Disclaimer: I'm still not J. .
Day 116 – A Little Later
For a moment no one besides Ron moved, their eyes transfixed on the newcomer. And then, as if by magic, the room sprang into life. Eager hands moved to fill plates and a low level chatter resumed. Hermione busied herself with boiling two kettles over the hob, pulling out mugs from an overflowing cupboard and trying hard to stifle the questions threatening to spill from her lips as she made endless cups of tea and coffee, ignoring the new presence.
She hadn't seen him since…well, since the incident in his home.
"This is delicious Hermione," Tonks said in thanks as she accepted a cup of tea from her. "Honestly, you bake the best bread I have ever tasted. It never tastes this good when it's baked by magic alone."
Hermione beamed at the compliment. "Ah, well I've had enough practice now feeding you lot." She grabbed a crust from one of the boards before it disappeared, sitting down beside her. "It's quite therapeutic making dough from scratch. It's surprising how much I enjoy baking really."
Tonks squeezed her hand reassuringly as she reached for the butter knife. "You'll find it again, don't you worry."
"If by 'it' you mean my magic, then you have more faith than me." She smeared butter first, and then raspberry jam second, over her slice. "I'm sure it will all work out," she added, dismissing the conversation. Hermione's eyes turned to Malfoy, seated at the top of the table next to Harry, looking distinctly uncomfortable, his eyes downcast. "What happened?" She asked the elder witch quietly.
Today Tonks' hair was a rich mahogany brown, curling to her ears. Her eyes were slate grey, tired and heavily lined as the toll of the last few weeks caught up with her. "I'm sure Harry will fill you in later, but it started quite uneventful. Everyone was assigned to their posts and nothing much appeared to be happening. At one point I thought Moody would call the whole operation off for the evening, but that man's hunches are often spot on."
She paused to take a sip of her tea. "Around 2am the first of them started to arrive from off of the high street, we still can't work out where from. They headed straight to the meadow on the cliff where they were met by another group that appeared by boat on the beach. I counted five in the boats but Mundungus swears there were six of them. A third group gathered close to Ginny and Ron's watchpoint in the hills, but they remained where they were, not talking, just watching."
Outside, rain started to fall. It tapped against the windowpanes, inpatient as lazy knuckles rapping against a table.
"Then there was a lot of shouting and confusion. At first I thought they'd spotted us, or had figured out that we'd been watching them. Maybe they've known we've been staking out this spot over the last few months. Who can say? But there was a very heated discussion down in the meadow, that much is certain, and before we had a chance to get closer a fight had broken out and spells were flying everywhere."
Fred was seated opposite Tonks and had been listening as he quietly ate his fill of the breakfast food. "Aye, it was a right ol' fight. Nine against one," he said, jerking his head in Malfoy's direction. The Death Eater for his part was sat motionless next to Harry, head down, little more than a corpse if it were not for the shuddering breaths he took. A plate had been set for him but he made no move to eat. "I'll hand it to him, he didn't give into them easily."
"And then as soon as it had started it was over. One of them, maybe Antonin, maybe Zabini, it was impossible to hear and we couldn't risk even a disillusioned extendable ear, but one stopped the rest and calmly just walked up to him, as casual as you like, and pushed him over the edge of the cliff."
Ginny had stood and was now collecting finished plates with her wand, sending them to the sink to be washed. "And then they all Disapparated and it was as if nothing had happened. The only thing you could hear was the sound of the waves crashing down below, and there was a horrible wind. Harry didn't even wait before he flew down over the cliff after him. Moody was not happy."
Hermione glanced up the table. "And he survived?"
"Well, it was a miracle he missed the rocks. Harry hoisted him out of the sea and cast a warming charm on him and took him to one of the safe houses. There was a bit of a debate as to what to do with him, but we couldn't just leave him."
And we couldn't just kill him. That sentence didn't need to be heard to be understood.
Hermione sat quietly as the throng of people around her finished eating, offering her thanks and then retreating to their own areas of the house for some much needed rest. She nibbled on her thumb as she sat and recounted the night's events. Questions built up in her head, but unlike in class, she couldn't relieve the tension they caused within by raising her arm.
Before long, the room had emptied out, leaving herself with Harry, Ron and Malfoy. Still motionless, still downcast. She didn't really blame him.
"I don't understand," she said as she busied herself making them each another cup of tea. "Why would they attack him? This has to be some sort of trap."
Harry nodded. "It's possible, but I don't know Hermione, there was just something in the way that they turned on him and attacked and then left - it didn't feel staged to me, there was a real intensity in the whole thing. And despite everything, for better or worse, I couldn't just leave him."
He was after all just a kid like them.
"Harry, this is ridiculous. You know perfectly well the lengths they'd go to to plant a spy within the Order. I don't like this."
"Why don't we use some of the veritaserum we have left and just ask him?" Ron offered up, polishing his wand with a cloth, seated as far from Malfoy as he could get. He didn't share Harry's willingness to help their enemy.
"Because we have very little left, and knowing Malfoy he's probably mastered occlumency rendering it useless anyway," Hermione told him. "And if this was some sort of plan to infiltrate the order, they're unlikely to have told him anything." Much better to use him as a pawn, it wouldn't be the first time. Honour brought you very little on the dark side. "Why now, after all this time? Has he said anything?"
He seemed perfectly content to ignore their blatant discussion of him. Surprising as he could hardly conceal his disdain or a snarky comeback in their Hogwarts days.
Ron was the one to answer her. "Moody spent a good hour checking him over. There's nothing on him that we can detect, and we all agreed he was better with us than left alone. We've not told him this address, and we took three port keys to get back so there's little chance they could trace us to here. He's in a right state though."
He'd sat silent throughout the meal, ignoring the cautious looks and slightly hostile chatter bustling around him. Hermione regarded him properly for the first time.
He was filthy, that much was obvious. His cloak was stained with mud, dirt and what could only be the crust of dried sweat or salt from the sea. Probably both. A huge cut across his forehead had started to congeal and needed tending to, and his hair, usually slick and uniform, was as messy as Harry's. You'd be hard pressed to tell it was usually translucent. Even beneath the heavy cloaks he wore she could tell he was malnourished. Clearly he hadn't been in anyone's favour for a long while.
His head snapped up and his eyes caught hers in their gaze. They'd shared that look before, years ago, when she was lying broken on that floor of his home. The scars on her right arm started to itch, as if she needed reminding.
"You might as well kill me."
The rain outside seemed to fall heavier. None of them knew what to say to that.
"Bit dramatic, Malfoy," Hermione countered, feeling something bubble inside of her. His voice was hoarse and grating, as if each word was wrenched from his vocal cords with difficulty.
"Hardly. It's the most logical outcome. There is nothing from me that you can gain though interrogation, though you're welcome to try." He lifted his bound hands to wipe at his nose. "And for all I can tell you, this is probably all part of an elaborate plan to gain access to you so that he can finish Potter. It's the most obvious thing to do."
Ron looked appalled. "We're not like your lot, we don't relish killing others."
"And who said we did Weasley? Don't presume for one second to have any comprehension for what some of us on the other side of endured."
Ron rubbed his face wearily. "I'm not even going to get into this." He reached over and squeezed Hermione's hand. "Thanks for breakfast 'Mione, it was delicious." He picked up the mug of tea she'd made for him and headed upstairs.
Harry let out a heavy sigh, leaning back in his chair. "You should get some rest too," Hermione chided him gently. "I'll sort Malfoy out."
She knew he would protest. "No, out of the question. I'll take him-"
"You know I don't want to spend time with him anymore than the rest of us, but you've been out all night and you need to rest. If he tried anything-"
"He just told us to kill him! What better way to ensure your own fate than by harming one of us!" Harry dropped his voice, "And you're more vulnerable at the moment..."
Hermione shook her head. "Oh no you don't, don't use that as an excuse." She turned to their captive. Or was it guest? "Malfoy, are you going to try and harm or maim me if I make you some breakfast and help you get settled? If so, can you do us all a favour and tell us in advance so that we don't waste precious food on you?"
The hint of snark in her tone clearly amused him. "As much as it deeply pains me to admit this to you both of all people, my desire for a good meal and a wash far outweigh any desires I may have to cause a scene."
Satisfied, Hermione grabbed the twisted rope from Harry. "Now off to bed with you," she told him quickly. "Malfoy, you can help me make you an omelette. But first, I'm going to clean that wound. And Merlin's beard you need a shower."