After nearly six years as a Death Eater, Malfoy was likely a highly accomplished manipulator.
Severus' reports on the goings on of Voldemort's inner circle indicated that it was a ruthless political environment. Voldemort was a cruel master, and unsparing in his punishments. Death Eaters had little loyalty to one another. They were eager to cut down those ahead of them if it helped secure their own places or access greater power and protection for themselves.
Malfoy's offer could easily all be a ploy to climb even higher. To become a double agent for Voldemort in the same way that Snape acted as one for the Order. To feed them false information at a crucial point that could lead to their downfall.
However Severus was supporting the idea, apparently of the opinion that Malfoy's offer was legitimate. She would have to speak to him. She wanted to know exactly what he had noticed to believe it.
She slipped into an alleyway and apparated back to Grimmauld Place. As she made her way up to her room she noticed Lavender Brown leaving the room Ron shared with Harry and Fred.
Ron and Lavender weren't exactly in a relationship per se. Ron had about five girls that he cycled through based on availability following missions and skirmishes. The War had made him angrier and more tense. He was constantly on edge as he strategised raids and skirmishes. His talent for wizard's chess had translated into a talent for war strategy. He tended to take every casualty as his personal responsibility. If he wasn't shagging someone, he tended toward explosive bouts of rage.
Everyone had different coping mechanisms.
Neville Longbottom and Susan Bones smoked so much boomslang in the attic they reeked of it even after a smoke banishing and freshening charm had been applied to them.
Hannah Abbott bit her nails until they bled.
Charlie had a hip flask that Hermione suspected had an undetectable expansion charm on it given how his poison of the day never seemed to run dry.
Harry smoked cigarettes, and habitually found his way into underground muggle fight clubs.
Hermione hesitated in the hallway, staring after Lavender for a moment before going over and knocking lightly on the door to the bedroom.
“It's open!” Ron called.
Hermione peeked in and found Ron pulling on a shirt.
“Everything alright?” he inquired.
“Yes,” she said awkwardly. “I was just — wondering if you could tell me about what happened when the Lestrange Manor burned down. I was doing some spell research. It was fiendfyre wasn't it?”
Ron gave her an odd look.
“That was a while ago. But yeah, after Harry and I got caught by those snatchers. I got him on the face with a stinging hex so they didn't recognize him right off. They took us to Bellatrix, and her sister was there too. They sent off for Malfoy to come identify Harry before they called Voldemort. But, before he got there, Luna had got word back to the Order and she, Moody, Tonks, and Charlie showed up on that dragon and smashed right through the bloody window.”
He ran his fingers through his hair and Hermione noticed with a pang that it had streaks of grey in it.
“Anyway, it was just nuts after that. Spells were flying and Crabbe, I think, tried to stop us with a fiendfyre curse and lost control of it. He was always an idiot. It burned down the whole place in minutes. We probably would have all been killed if not for Charlie's dragon. But — we couldn't grab Luna. She was too far away... one of the fire chimaeras swallowed her.” As he spoke Ron expression grew far away and haunted.
“And that's how Bellatrix and Narcissa died too?” Hermione prodded casually.
“Yeah. They probably could've apparated out of the Manor if they'd realised in time. But Crabbe was standing right behind them when he cast. It hit them first, which is probably why he lost control. Probably freaked when he realized how fucked he'd be for killing Bellatrix.”
“Probably,” Hermione said nodding.
“Fiendfyre is not a joke, Hermione.” Ron was staring at her seriously. “I know you're always going on about wanting the Order to start using more dangerous spells, but just because it's not dark magic doesn't make it any less serious. If you're going to try to push for using fiendfyre on a battlefield, I'm going to be the first to shut you down.”
Hermione pressed her lips together and her grip on the knob tightened until it rattled faintly. She eased her hold quickly.
“I'm not an idiot, Ronald. I just need ashwinder eggs for potion making and I'm trying to decide what the best fire spell will be.” It was a ridiculous lie, but it had been years since Ron had brewed a potion.
“Oh. Well — probably not fiendfyre.”
She nodded sharply in agreement.
“Well, I've got some more research to do then,” she said, and withdrew from the bedroom.
As she pushed open the door to her own room Harry and Ginny sprang apart looking guilty.
“Sorry,” Hermione apologized. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No,” Harry said quickly. “I was just asking Gin for more details about that mission she and Dean got back from.”
He left the room quickly.
Hermione eyed Ginny. “Mission details?”
Ginny blushed.
“We were just talking. He still — won't. He just — comes to talk sometimes.”
Harry and Ginny had been dancing around each other for years. Their interest was obvious, but Harry refused to get into a relationship. He said it was too dangerous. That it would paint a target on Ginny's back.
But anytime Ginny dated anyone else, Harry's tendency to sneak out into muggle London and return home with missing teeth, a broken nose, split knuckles, as well as fractured eye sockets and ribs tended dramatically increase.
Ginny hadn't dated anyone in over a year. Like a black hole, her availability seemed to drag Harry in toward her. He couldn't seem to keep away from her but he also couldn't bring himself to acknowledge his interest.
“Well, at least he's talking to you,” Hermione murmured.
Hermione and Harry had — drifted apart. Her urging about using dark magic was seen as a lack of confidence in him and Dumbledore. Possibly even a betrayal, although neither Harry nor Ron would actually use the word. Every time she said anything on the subject of using the dark arts he'd barely speak to her for days.
She shoved the thought away. She couldn't think about it. She had far too much to consider already.
Chapter End Notes
Illustrations by Avendell, follow her on tumblr and instagram.
Additional Illustrations:
The Order's Healer by thegirlthatreadsfantasybooks.
A portrait of Hermione by anottart.
Flashback 2
March 2002
Hermione pored over the books she'd bought during every spare minute she had. She transfigured them to resemble texts about arithmancy, ancient runes, and healing, and no one even blinked to find her plowing through them while brewing, during the quiet moments in the hospital ward, or during meals.
She wasn't sure if any of the information would actually be useful, but she was completely at a loss as to how else to prepare. Books were the only resource she had. So she read and brain-stormed and worried, and found herself snapping defensively at people.
"I'm sorry, Fred," she said, wincing when he stopped by to visit George. He had tried to lighten the mood by recommending she provide a naughty nurse routine while caring for his brother. Hermione, abruptly finding the subject matter sensitive, exploded at him and nearly slapped him across the face.