Author's Note

Oh, wow! I didn't expect to have followers or reviewers or favorites or anything! This is awesome! I apologize so much for the long time since the last update – school started up at the end of August and just hasn't let up since. I'm so, so sorry for the hiatus. I hope this chapter can partially make up for my absence! Of course, I welcome any feedback!

Chapter Two

"How did you—?" Hermione narrowed her eyes at Wednesday.

'It was just a guess.'

"What's going on, Hermione?" Harry asked, frustrated. The sooner Malfoy could figure out how strong she was, the happier he'd be. He wanted to be able to understand her, but his experiences with Legilimency had made him reluctant to let someone inside his head willingly.

"Yes. I'm going to ask him to come here at midnight," Hermione told Wednesday, hurriedly explaining to the two boys that the woman had figured out that they had a Death Eater spy.

Wednesday nodded. Just then, somebody rapped on the door.

"Hey you lot, food's ready!" The door opened to reveal Blaise Zabini, who stopped abruptly in the doorway upon seeing the new girl. "Sorry. Did I interrupt something?"

"This is Wednesday," Hermione said. "She'll be helping us."

"Nice to meet you," Blaise said, walking closer and offering a hand to Wednesday. "I'm Blaise Zabini."

Wednesday stood and took the proffered hand. 'Wednesday Darling,' she signed, to Blaise's momentary confusion. She was surprised in turn when he signed back, her shock showing on her face.

'I'm not deaf, I just can't speak,' she signed to him, and he let out an 'Ohhh' of understanding.

"So we have someone else who understands sign language. Great. Now can I get some food?" Ron asked crankily. "I'm hungry." The four established Order members laughed it off, but Wednesday eyed him, unsure of his disposition. If he was Harry Potter's friend, she supposed he was all right, but he seemed a bit brash to her.

"We'll have to introduce her to Mrs. Weasley and everybody else," Blaise said, leading the way downstairs. "McGonagall and Vector are staying for dinner. Where's Teddy?"

"Last I checked he was with Ginny at Seashell Cottage," Harry said of his godson. "Fleur's taken a shine to him."

Ginny had been forbidden to participate in today's battle by Mrs. Weasley; she was recovering from an injury sustained in the retaking of Hogwarts a month ago. It irritated her to no end to have to sit at home, helpless while her friends, family, and boyfriend fought for their lives. Thankfully, Teddy's presence had given her something else to think about, and Fleur, who was pregnant, invited her often to Seashell Cottage to try and take her mind off of the war for a little while.

"I haven't seen her at all since you guys left," Hermione said as they entered the busy kitchen. "Hello, Professor McGonagall, Professor Vector."

"Good evening, Hermione," McGonagall said, while Vector only nodded to them. "Wednesday, is that you?"

Wednesday nodded, smiling warmly at the Professor. 'Hello, Professor.'

"It's nice seeing you again. I assume you will be joining us, then?" McGonagall asked, stepping aside to allow Hermione past, leaving them to talk.

'Yes. Did you know that my father was part of the Order?' Wednesday's eyes weren't accusatory, but McGonagall blushed a little anyway.

"I'm afraid I did. He was afraid for your life, and your mother's life, if he openly joined us, so he staged his death. I knew all along, but Dumbledore made me promise not to tell you." McGonagall put her hand on Wednesday's shoulder in a rare sign of affection. "I'm sorry for your loss, Wednesday."

Wednesday merely nodded. At that moment, Mrs. Weasley put the last plate of steaming food on the table and called "Food's ready!"

There was a general rush to secure a seat; the kitchen was filled with chatter and the scraping of chairs on the tiled floor. Mrs. Weasley paused suddenly in putting down a dish of mashed potatoes. "And who might you be, dear?" she asked, addressing Wednesday.

Wednesday looked at Hermione, unsure of whether or not Mrs. Weasley knew sign language, but it was McGonagall who spoke up.

"This is Wednesday Darling. She's an old student of mine, and will be helping us against Voldemort." McGonagall accepted a dish of vegetables and passed them to Ron, pinning the redhead with a stern look. "You will eat your vegetables, Mr. Weasley."

"Yes, Professor," Ron acquiesced, taking the vegetables.

"It's nice to meet you, Wednesday," Mrs. Weasley said, smiling brightly. She frowned in confusion as Wednesday signed back.

'Thank you,' Wednesday signed, and Hermione and Blaise said at the same time, "She says thank you."

Ron snorted into his sausages, and his mother glared at him. "Ronald. Manners, please."

"Yes, Mum," Ron answered, rolling his eyes.

"Manners, ickle Ronniekins," George said in a high-pitched voice, and Ron flicked a piece of carrot at him.

"Boys!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. She turned back to Wednesday. "Are you deaf?" she asked.

Wednesday chuckled without the sound. 'I can hear you perfectly fine. I just can't speak.'

"She can hear you, Mrs. Weasley, she just can't speak. She was born mute," Hermione informed Mrs. Weasley, whose eyebrows rose in surprise. At least she was polite enough not to stare openly at Wednesday's scar and her blind eye.

"Well, welcome to the Order, Wednesday," she said with a warm smile for the newest addition to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. "Wasn't Ginny coming home for dinner?"

"Fleur probably convinced her to stay. Her cooking is wonderful," McGonagall commented. "Not that she's a better cook than you, Molly," she added, tucking in.

"Thank you, Minverva," Mrs. Weasley beamed.

There was a lull in the conversation at the table while everybody ate. Several people were present tonight; the Professors McGonagall and Vector, Mrs. Weasley, Blaise, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Seamus Finnegan, Hannah Abbot, Parvati Patil, Mr. Ollivander, and Xenophilius and Luna Lovegood. In addition were Amy Preston, a cursebreaker for Gringotts, Raven Acosta, a Magical Creatures expert, and Alexander Johnston, a lanky American college student who had joined the Order since the Battle of Hogwarts. Introductions were quick, in between mouthfuls of food, and conversation quickly turned to the ongoing war.

"Emily is still on her mission to America?" Vector asked after a period of silence. "I thought she'd be back by now."

"The Death Eaters know she's there. It might take her a while to get back," Hermione said, flicking a glance towards Wednesday, who caught the look and stood up to excuse herself.

"Wednesday—" Mrs. Weasley began, but Wednesday shook her head and left, entering the living room and looking out the window. Almost unconsciously, she was rolling the wand in her fingertips, relearning the feel of it. With a sudden, restless movement, she Conjured a flock of birds that twittered around her head. Satisfied that the wand would work well for her, she Vanished the birds and sat down on the sofa.

Who could be the spy in Voldemort's forces? Nobody would be that brave…although she had heard that the late Severus Snape had been a spy for Dumbledore. But who would love so deeply as to betray the Dark Lord, of all people? Who in the Order inspired that kind of courage? Surely it wasn't just respect; that had not stopped witches and wizards from murdering before. Thus, Wednesday reasoned, the spy had to be someone who was in love with an Order member, and who held a high position in Voldemort's ranks, or they would be useless as a spy. With a sigh, she gave up trying to figure out who it was; she did not know enough about the Order members to guess the identity of their spy.

At twenty one years of age, Wednesday didn't feel like she was in the prime of her life. On the contrary, she had seen and experienced the worst of humankind. She might have come out in one piece physically, but it didn't mean that she wasn't psychologically damaged. Sometimes she wondered if she was crazy. Maybe this was all in her head, and she was really sitting in a white padded room somewhere being fed nutrient-rich jelly by someone in scrubs. If only.

"Wednesday?" It was Hermione. "Do you want me to show you where you can sleep tonight?"

'Sure,' Wednesday signed, standing. If she was crazy, then she would do her best to save her made-up world. If she was crazy, it didn't matter; her reality needed to be rescued. There was something to fight for, even if she was insane. What would there be left to live for if she didn't fight?

Hermione led Wednesday to a door labeled 'R.A.B.' It was a Slytherin room, from the Black family coat of arms painted on the ceiling to the green and silver sheets on the bed. "This was Harry's godfather's brother's room. We're pretty sure we removed all the possibly harmful spells and items from in here, but I'd be careful still."

Wednesday drifted over to the desk, running her fingers over the smooth wood. From the half-open top drawer, she lifted out a heavy gold ring set with a large emerald. The engraving on the ring was exquisite. It was obviously a holdover from the Black family, perhaps a precious heirloom that had been forgotten. Turning it over in her hands, she held it out to Hermione.

"Yes, well, Harry didn't want it and we couldn't think of what to do with it, so we just left it here…" she explained. "Technically everything in this house belongs to Harry. He inherited it and everything inside when his godfather died."

Wednesday raised an eyebrow and twisted the oval emerald from its setting, revealing a tiny mirror beneath it. 'You didn't find the twin?'

"No. I know it's a communication ring, but since we can't find the other one, we figured it'd be safest to leave it here, since we aren't using this room. I'll take it now, though. We'll have to put it in the attic or something."

'Are you sure you don't know where the twin is?' Wednesday repeated.

"Yes. We've tried a Summoning Charm – not that it would work, anyway – and tracking spells, as well as scrying spells. We even asked Sirius' portrait if he knew, but he didn't."

'Did you try asking it?' Wednesday inquired. She offered the ring to Hermione, who stared at it, perplexed.

"You can do that?" she asked, hating the feeling of knowing less than someone else.

Wednesday shrugged. 'It's just a guess. My father had one, and I had the twin. I buried it when he died. When we thought he died. It might not even work, but it's worth a try.'

Feeling silly, Hermione addressed the ring. "Where is your twin?"

Both women stared as mist began to spiral out from the mirror, thickening enough to display the image like a holographic picture. A gold band around a woman's finger, set with an emerald. The hand was slender, pale, attached to an arm that led to a face with heavily lidded eyes and a lazily cruel smile. The face of Bellatrix Lestrange. With a gasp, Hermione snapped the emerald back into place, covering the mirror and breaking the connection.

"We have to destroy this thing. She probably knows it's here already," Hermione said softly, her voice only slightly shaky.

'Or you could use it to feed her false information,' Wednesday signed. 'Keep your spy safe.'

Hermione smiled slowly. Just in case Bellatrix was listening, she signed, 'Brilliant. Which reminds me, midnight tonight. Meet me in the living room.'

'All right.' Wednesday turned back to exploring her room, and Hermione left her to it.

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, was cold at night. Wrapping a borrowed cloak around herself, Wednesday made her way down the creaky stairs at eleven fifty five. Her blind eye hampered her; in an unfamiliar house, in the dark, with only a lit wand to guide her, she moved slowly, trying not to wake the other occupants of the house. As she approached the living room, she heard muffled voices.

"You don't think I can break her?" The speaker was male, with an unfamiliar voice. The spy.

"If you can't break her, then I don't know what we'll do. Harry says we can't trust her if she won't let us see into her mind, but you're the only one I know who might even sense her shields. I couldn't, although I know they're there. I felt…a void. That's the word. There's a void in her mind where her shields are. She only let me see what she wanted me to see." Hermione was pacing in front of the fire. Draco Malfoy watched her with those silver eyes, which were now narrowed with hurt pride.

"So you don't think I can get past her guard."

"Look, Malfoy, she's the strongest Occlumens I've encountered. I can't get through, and I'm no eejit when it comes to Legilimency, either. I have to know if she's trustworthy." Hermione spun to face the Slytherin. "Malfoy, she can resist the Cruciatus Curse."

"What?" That stopped Malfoy cold. "That's impossible," he said flatly. "Nobody can resist the Cruciatus Curse."

They jumped at the knock on the door. Wednesday had decided it was time to make her entrance. Hermione opened the door, revealing the pale, dark-haired woman. After closing the door, she introduced them.

"Malfoy, this is Wednesday Darling. Wednesday, this is Draco Malfoy. You cannot reveal his name to anyone outside the Order."

'I won't. He's the one testing me?' Wednesday signed, leaving Malfoy confused and slightly peeved as Hermione answered her easily.

"Yes. Malfoy, she can't actually talk, which is one of the reasons we need to know if we can trust her. Harry won't give his permission for her to speak mind-to-mind unless you can verify her loyalty."

"How can she be loyal to you if she's only just met you?" Malfoy pointed out.

'Because loyalty doesn't come just from time, Malfoy. I can be loyal to their cause without ever even knowing them,' Wednesday signed as Hermione translated.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her. "Very well," he said in his silkiest, most pureblooded Malfoy voice. "Let us begin. Legilimens!"

"Crucio!" A child no more than seven years old writhed in the air, her mouth open in a silent scream of pain. The caster, a hollow-eyed woman with snarled brown curls and sunken cheeks, watched with an expression of vicious satisfaction and anger. "This is all your fault. You should never have been born." She waved her wand haphazardly, sending the child crashing into a wall with an explosive purple bang. Bony fingers clutched the wand tighter as she stalked towards the girl. "Now I have to take care of you—and pay for you—" With each phrase, cuts ran along the child's pale skin, blood running in rivulets down her face, her arms, her legs. "I told you to be a good girl. Now you've made me angry. You don't like it when I'm angry, do you? Because you get punished like the filthy scum you are. It hurts, doesn't it? Crucio!"

The woman was clearly deranged; he could see it in her eyes, in her expression. She enjoyed torturing her daughter, who could not retaliate, could not even scream or beg for forgiveness. Malfoy understood the pain on Wednesday's face; it was not merely physical pain that tortured her, but psychological as well. Her own mother harmed her; who else could she trust? He knew that feeling, although it wasn't his mother who he feared, but his father.

Malfoy fell through the hell that was Wednesday's past until he hit something that felt like a glass wall in her mind. However, it didn't shatter like glass; although he attacked it fiercely, that wall would not give way. No matter what he tried, her shields were diamond-hard. All he saw was his own reflection in her mind. All he heard was the echo of her voice. Her voice? Of course. She would be a telepath. That was one of the reasons he was there in the first place.

What do you want, Malfoy? What else do you need to see?

Your time in Voldemort's hands would be nice. They were so deeply immersed in the spell that their bodies were held immobile. Their only communication was mind-to-mind, exactly what Hermione had been afraid of allowing.

Very well.

"Blood traitor," the Death Eater snarled. "You're lucky the Dark Lord wants as many purebloods alive as possible, or I'd kill you in a heartbeat."

Wednesday gave no reaction, bound in heavy iron shackles that clanked with each step she took. The Death Eater was prodding her down a stony corridor, past sad, empty cells. There didn't seem to be anyone else in this dungeon of Voldemort's creation. Where were they? Dead? Or merely too weak or afraid to show themselves?

"In you go." He threw her into a cell, leaving her in a heap on the floor. After a moment, he raised his wand. She couldn't see his face, covered as it was with the mask, but she knew he did not mean well. "Crucio!"

She relaxed. He could not hurt her with this spell. Somehow, as she had improved her control and honed her mental abilities, she had also developed a shield against magic that affected the mind, like the Cruciatus Curse or an innocuous Cheering Charm. The Death Eater's body language grew more and more frustrated as she did not react to the curse, despite flopping around in the air with the force of the spell. At last, he let her fall to the floor, slamming the door and storming away, presumably to find Voldemort.

"What is your secret?" Voldemort's snakelike hiss was the only sound in that cold stone cell, save for the sound of Wednesday's body slamming into the floor again. "Look at me!"

Unafraid—what did she have left to lose?—she met his eyes. They were cold, but not quite dead; anger roared in those serpentine eyes, cold but burning with frustrated rage. She felt rather than heard his hiss. Legilimens! Yet she felt nothing but her own mind behind her eyes, saw nothing she did not want to. His snakelike pupils were all that filled her vision.

With a roar, Voldemort blasted her across the room, a deep gash slicing upwards across her body. As her head crunched against the wall, darkness crept across her vision. She heard his snarled oath as he slammed the door, as the blackness rose up to claim her.

Blood clotted her clothes. It made the floor tacky. Her head pounded. Looking down, she barely registered the gory mess that was her own chest. All she knew was that she hurt. She drew her knees up against her burning chest, hugging them to herself. The door creaked; her head came up with a snap that shook her bruised brain and caused her to close her eyes briefly at the pain. It didn't matter. She knew who it was.

"Have you decided to tell me how you possibly resist my power?" Voldemort's hiss cut through her headache like ice water. "Or do I need to teach you again that you are not omnipotent?"

Raising a bloody hand, she began to sign 'No.'

"Do not move!" She narrowly missed having her hand blasted off; as it was, a chunk of rock from the wall of her cell cut her cheek. Frozen in place, she watched with one blue eye. Waited.

"Draco. See to it that she is healed properly. I want her alive, do you understand me?"

"Of course, my Lord."

"And feel free to have some…fun." Wednesday closed her eyes and shuddered. There was no mistaking what he meant.

She heard the Dark Lord leave her prison, even as quiet footsteps approached her. She didn't move. What else could she do? She was far too weak to cast any spells; the headache would have prevented her from focusing her magic anyway.

Warmth blossomed across her torso, spreading outwards from her wound. The masked Death Eater tugged her arm; she flinched, but all he did was draw her chest away from her knees so that he could siphon the blood from her clothes. There was so much. How was she not dead?

Fierce itching signaled the healing of the cut. It was over in a matter of minutes. She was ready for another round of torture. And this time she might be too weak to resist.

Wednesday was startled when the smell of roasted meat assaulted her nostrils. She turned to look at the Death Eater with wide eyes. He held a plate of steaming food; steak, potatoes, spinach. Was it poisoned? Drugged?

Did she have a choice?

She felt the weakness in her limbs. Blinking was an effort.

"Eat." It was the first word the Death Eater had spoken. He held a fork. "You won't survive next time if you don't."

Would that be so bad? The headache wouldn't go away. She put a hand to the back of her head; it came away covered in flecks of dried blood.

"Let me see." Again the Death Eater drew his wand, not to torture her as she had expected, but to heal her. The headache faded, and she realized that she didn't want to die here.

She reached for the food, but couldn't muster the strength to raise the fork and feed herself. To her mortification, he proceeded to feed her. Once the food was gone, he offered her a glass of water. She delayed as long as she could.

Finally, she could delay no longer. She reluctantly gave him the glass and braced herself for the worst. He stood up, drew his wand, and—

—walked out of the cell, shutting the door with a metallic clang. Wednesday breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn't rape her after all. Not yet, at least.

Thank you, Draco Malfoy, for my life. It was you who brought me to the battlefield, you who healed me. Even though he was now in the present, Wednesday's voice echoed in his mind.

"You're welcome." His voice was hoarse. Had she really thought he would rape her?

The answer was yes. He was a Death Eater. It's what they did.

"I swear, I'm not like them."

Hermione watched their exchange with a mixture of hope, confusion, and jealousy. A corner of Wednesday's mind latched onto the brunette's expression and filed it away to be thought about later.

I know. I can feel it. Have you seen all that you need to see?

"I think so." Malfoy took a deep breath as he turned to Hermione. "You can trust her."

"Are you sure?" Hermione checked.

"Of course I'm sure!" Malfoy snapped. Delving into Wednesday Darling's mind was almost worse than witnessing the horrors he had seen as a servant of the Dark Lord. Hers had not been a happy life. It had put him on edge.

"There's no need to snap at me," Hermione huffed. "You're the one acting like someone ruffled your feathers the wrong way."

"You don't trust me!"

"Of course I do! Why else are you here?"

"Because you're so bloody desperate for information you'd do anything. Admit it, Granger, the Order is in trouble!"

"No thanks to you! What have you told us that is useful, really?" Hermione demanded.

"You don't understand! He watches our every move!"

Then you should get back. Malfoy jumped, a very un-Malfoy-like action, when Wednesday's voice cut through his anger with Hermione. You will be missed soon, won't you?

"Yes, yes. Of course." Malfoy ran a hand through his white blond hair. "'Bye, Granger. Wednesday."

Hermione huffed as Malfoy exited the room. They heard the front door open and close, accompanied by the crack of Apparition.

Hermione looked at Wednesday. "Well. I guess that's that. We should get some sleep."

She let her shields fall, enough to hear Wednesday reply. Yes.

They made their way up the stairs, each to her own bed. Wednesday sat for a long time in the dark, reliving the memories Malfoy had dredged up. Finally, she fell into an uneasy sleep.