He didn't need to touch her. She knew. He could easily perform legilimency on her from several feet away.
He didn't pry. Didn't poke his head into memories that she overtly did not want him in. He just let her use his presence as a sort of practice dummy for learning evasive mental manoeuvring.
When he withdrew, she stared up at him curiously.
“Where did you learn that? I'm assuming your aunt didn't use the technique.”
“She did not.” His teeth bared slightly as he said it. “I read about it in a book. Malfoy Manor has a large library. It wouldn't work with most people, only other natural occlumens. Even though anyone can potentially learn occlumency or legilimency to some degree, it's always either painful or so subtle they can barely even feel it happening.”
He looked at her and added with a smirk “You could say I'm experimenting on you.”
Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Did the book require physical contact too?” she said in a sweet voice, eyeing his hand pointedly.
She immediately regretted saying it.
His hand tensed slightly, just enough to shift from resting to holding. His eyes darkened as his irises expanded incrementally.
“No.That — is just because I can.”
He smirked as he pulled her forwards and dipped his head to kiss her.
It was a cold kiss. His lips pressed against hers weren't wanting or passionate.
It was simply a reminder.
That he could.
That he was being restrained. That, if he wanted to, he could demand anything he desired from her and she had already consented to give it to him.
Hermione didn't respond to the kiss. She just let his cold lips meet hers without resisting until he pulled away again.
“Do you have any information this week?” she asked as his hand slid off of her and he stepped back.
He drew a scroll from his robes and handed it to her.
“Spell analysis and countercurse information for new curses from the Dark Lord's curse development division,” he said. “There's a new set being taught currently.”
Hermione slid the scroll open and glanced over the information listed. Severus had already given the Order all the details about the curses, but Malfoy couldn't know that. That it had occurred to him was a sign of how useful and proactive he was able to be. If they lost Severus, Malfoy was able to provide both types of intelligence.
An excellent spy.
“This is invaluable information,” she said, packing it carefully into her satchel.
He shrugged.
“No, really. This will save lives. I didn't even think to ask for this. That you did — I don't know how to thank you enough.”
Malfoy looked vaguely uncomfortable with the gratitude.
“Whatever. It was an obvious piece of information to provide. The death rate in your Resistance is getting noticeable.”
Hermione felt the blood drain from her face, and he stared at her. “How much longer do you think you all can keep fighting?”
Her throat tightened. “As long as it takes or until there's no one left. There's no plan B, Malfoy. There's no surrendering for us.”
He nodded. “Good to know.”
Then he paused as though abruptly recalling something. “Is there a safe house involving a lot of children up in Caithness?”
Hermione blanched. “Why — why do you ask?”
His face grew hard. “It's been noticed. Someone will likely be sent to investigate by the end of the week. Don't let them find anything.”
Hermione nodded sharply. “I have to go,” she said, rushing to the door.
She summoned a corporeal patronus through sheer willpower. They'd become a struggle for her ever since she'd obliviated her parents. It had taken her several years to regain the ability, and they'd never fully regained the silver luminescence they'd had during her fifth year.
“Find Minerva McGonagall,” she said. “Tell her to prep for evacuation.”
As her otter scampered away, she cast another. The sleek, translucent creature stood on its hind legs and stared up at her.
“Go find Kingsley Shacklebolt. Tell him we need a new safe house for Caithness.”
Then she apparated away to find Moody.
The process of evacuating children was slow and arduous. All of them were unable to apparate themselves, which meant that all available and easily contacted Resistance members had to be mobilised to carry them to safety via broomstick, repeated side-along apparition, or on the backs of thestrals. Creating portkeys was too time-consuming. None of the safe houses could risk having a floo connection.
The remote location had been a strategic choice. The hope was that it would pass unnoticed by Voldemort despite the presence of a great many odd children in such a small town. In retrospect, it was sheer luck they had succeeded for so long. There were few good options for trying to rehouse so many children in such a range of ages.
They had no backup safehouse for so many. The children had to be split up throughout dozens of safe houses. Ferrying them in small groups to other parts of the UK and then re-settling them, expanding rooms and transfiguring new beds.
Hermione made three trips. After she returned from the last one, she slumped against a wall with exhaustion. She'd apparated several toddlers all the way to Northern Ireland. They had vomited, and screamed, and sobbed with each progressive apparition. She'd been forced to stop and console them until they would hold still enough for her to safely apparate again without splinching anyone.
Minerva appeared and stopped in front of Hermione, her expression conflicted.
“Your information?” Minerva asked quietly.
Hermione nodded, “Moody's going to tell anyone who asks that he learned about it while interrogating a snatcher.”
Minerva gave a sharp nod of acknowledgement and pressed her lips together, staring at Hermione for several seconds.
“You are a good girl; I hope that's never doubted by anyone. Are you — alright?”
“He hasn't done anything to me.” It was all the reassurance Hermione could give.
Something untwisted itself in Minerva's expression. She nodded sharply and then swept away to help take down the wards and shrink the furniture.
Hermione glanced at the time. It was a full moon that night and she needed fluxweed.
She stood up and walked out of the manse until she reached the edge of the anti-apparition barriers. Then she began the series of jumps back towards London.
She stopped in a large field she often started foraging at near the Forest of Dean. Holding her wand out, she cast a point me charm and followed it in search of the weedy plant.
The bright light of the moon cast the sea of grass in sharp shadows. The clustered trees nearby rose up like a black curtain against the bright night sky. As Hermione slid down a small slope, a gust of wind shifted across the field, rippling the grass so that it whispered softly. As the sliding, shifting sound faded, a low howl emerged from the trees downwind of Hermione.
She froze.
A werewolf.
There had never been werewolves in the area before. She had been so tired and distracted she hadn't even thought to take any precautions.
Then another howl emerged. Further away. To her right.
And another howl.
There was a pack of werewolves in the Forest of Dean.
She almost apparated away but paused, hesitating. She needed fluxweed. If she didn't get it that night, she wouldn't be able to get any until the next month. She had to make the potion. Severus would not offer advice or take the time to invent potions unless it were urgent.
She bolted down the hill in the direction the locator spell was indicating.
Another howl. Closer.