She didn't know what to feel over his death.
“I don't think Kingsley thought of anyone as his friend,” she finally said, looking away from Padma.
“Well, Ron is pretty wrecked over it all. Over Lavender and then everything else on top of it.”
Hermione nodded absent-mindedly. She hadn't known Ron and Lavender had become serious. She'd been so preoccupied with research and experimental potions, with worrying about Draco, with caring for Ginny; she'd barely paid attention to any of the relationships at Grimmauld Place. It hadn't seemed important. She didn't have the time or energy for everyone's relationships to be important to her.
Kingsley was dead. Lost in a battle that the Order should never have let themselves be lured into.
The war was coming down to the line, and the Order had nothing to show for it after six years. All they'd been doing for the last year was surviving. Without Kingsley's deft manipulation reining in Harry and the Resistance, she didn't know how they were going to manage even that.
Draco would be next.
She could feel it written into the future.
It had been in his eyes as he watched her apparate away.
Padma was reciting the list of the dead, the injuries — Hermione was only half-listening to the report.
“I need to speak to Moody. Make sure it's all written down, Padma; I'll verify the reports later.”
Moody was sitting behind a pile of paperwork. His expression hardened when he saw Hermione. He cast a dozen privacy charms before he spoke.
“You're alive. I've been buried in reports, Patil said you'd been injured and then went missing, and that damned elf came in, sent to “inform me” that you'd been removed for your protection. How long has Malfoy been using it?”
Hermione swallowed and drew a deep breath. “Last April. That's what he told me.”
Moody's mouth twisted. He was the most paranoid man she'd ever known. Discovering that Grimmauld Place had had a latent spy in residence immediately after losing Kingsley had to have been a shock.
“I thought it was bound to Potter.”
Hermione looked down at the floor. “House-elf magic is complicated. I haven't researched it extensively — most of the books only study it to exploit it. House-elves draw from the natural accumulation of magic. When old families have an estate that taps into the ley lines and utilises blood wards, it entwines the magic. They become highly attuned to the signature.”
Her throat tightened as she thought about the elves that had stayed in Hogwarts. McGonagall had offered to break the ritual bond they had with the castle; Hermione had begged them all to leave when the school evacuated. Some had agreed, but others had declined. Hogwarts and the magic there was their home.
She didn't know if they were still alive inside Hogwarts prison, or if the Death Eaters had killed them all when the school was purged of 'uncooperative magic'.
She stifled the thought. “My theory is that whatever Sirius did to force the inheritance of Grimmauld Place to go to Harry split Kreacher's ties. Kreacher's bound to Grimmauld Place as a family seat, but he's also bound to the Black family's magical signature. Lucius handed the title and manor over to Draco after Narcissa's death. If Draco keyed the estate to himself with blood wards, then Kreacher belongs to Malfoy Manor as much as he belongs to Grimmauld Place; possibly more, since Harry has never used blood wards on Grimmauld Place to strengthen the ties. It was inevitable that as the Black signature on Grimmauld faded, Kreacher would be drawn somewhere that he could find it again. Instructions Draco gave him would have more influence than orders from Harry.”
“I want it gone.”
“I was going to suggest it. His bond with Harry is so weak I think I can break it myself. He'll lose the bond and connection to Grimmauld Place.”
“What will happen to it then?” Moody's eye was spinning suspiciously.
“His ties will be solely to Malfoy Manor.”
Moody seemed to be considering. Finally he cleared his throat. “Fine. Gone by tonight, or I'll be the one who deals with it.”
Hermione's shoulders tensed as she gave a sharp nod. “I have something else to report. Rodolphus Lestrange was killed in Bulgaria. Draco was summoned about it. Due to Tom's reaction to the news, Draco suspects that there may be a horcrux in the Lestrange vault.”
Moody started, looking at her sharply. “You told Malfoy about the horcruxes?” His voice was a growl.
Hermione met his eyes calmly. “I did.”
“You weren't cleared to.”
She rolled her jaw. “He's taken a Vow, Moody. He's not going to betray the Order. We've known about the horcruxes for five years, and we failed to find a single one. Draco is more effective than anyone”—her voice sharpened, — “and you know it, because your list of demands for him has kept getting longer every week.”
Moody stood. “Watch your tone, Granger.”
Hermione did not watch her tone. Her voice dropped lower, and it vibrated with intensity as she met his eyes. “You have over-utilised him. If I were a lower calibre healer, he would have died ten times over in the last two months; I have told you this, I told Kingsley this, and you both ignored it. The fact that he will try to do anything you ask doesn't mean you can keep demanding it until there's nothing left of him to exploit. Tom knows we have spies in his army. It would be miraculous if he hadn't noticed by now. He's testing the Death Eaters' loyalty. Kingsley pushed too far, and yesterday was the consequence of it.”
She leaned across the table towards Moody. “We lost Kingsley because he allowed the Order walk into a trap for the sake of solidarity. I said the Resistance shouldn't go.” She felt so angry her chest ached, as though her sternum were going to fracture again. “I said we shouldn't go, and I was told that putting the Resistance first was the same as saying 'wizards first' and that's only a step short of 'Purebloods first,' and then I was reminded that every human life is worth the same and worth saving; as though I'm not the one trying to save them.” She fought to breathe through her seething rage and swallowed bitterly. “Well, they know we'll walk into death traps on principle now, so how many worthy lives do you imagine yesterday's heroism will cost us in the long run?”
She slammed her occlumency walls more firmly into place and released a short breath.
She gripped the edge of the table, and her mouth twitched as she met Moody's gaze. “I'm done watching my tone.”
She straightened and glanced around the room. “I'm the only person you've got in Grimmauld Place. I have been an obedient foot soldier. I have done the unconscionable for the Order, and I don't know what we have to show for it.” Her mouth twisted, and her chest tightened. “We're no closer to winning than we were a year ago. I have followed orders without a word of complaint. I would accept it if it was just me — because at this point, what good would stopping do? Or if I believed we'd eventually win the war because of it. But I don't believe that. I don't even think you believe that.”
She met Moody's gaze and gave a thin smile. “If you have a better ally left in the Order, by all means, show me.”
Moody said nothing.
She released a sharp breath. “Draco and I will try to find the horcrux. I need access to the sword of Gryffindor. I can—” her throat tightened, and she dropped her eyes down to the desk, “—help coordinate and manage the reconnaissance team, since they're all acquainted with me, and I can take care of the food distribution to the safe houses; it can be done along with the potion distribution I'm already responsible for.” She studied the files on the table between them. “Let me know what else you need.”