Author's Note: I suggest looking up the black-winged kite. It's truly striking!
Part Three
The enthusiasm of the crowd rivaled that of the Quidditch World Cup match before Hermione's fourth year. All around her, faceless Muggles waved flags and clapped their hands. Their mouths gaped with delight, even as chunks of Arsenal Stadium fell down around them. The lights, which had stood tall and shining before the match was set to begin, rained sparks and glass down upon the once award-winning football pitch. Whole chunks of seating had been ripped from the concrete to be used as projectiles and shields alike. Many of the torn sections still cheered, albeit weakly.
Hermione ducked behind one of the larger, more resilient sections, hoping that the noise and movement of the remaining illusion would hide her from any unwelcome followers. She remained for a minute, silent and still, then was off again, headed south.
It was uncanny, sneaking through the wreckage of battle amidst cheering and applause, but the adulation of a well-made illusion was infinitely better than the screams of pain and terror that would've occurred had actual Muggles been here tonight.
The illusion hadn't even been the difficult part. With just one Firecall to a few well-placed Ministry contacts, the Arsenal football match was rescheduled for next Sunday, the stadium was charmed to be temporarily Muggle-repellant, and a team of world-class Charms experts were deployed to construct a crowd in the exact shades of red and white that were the trademark of one of London's most popular Premier League teams.
Convincing Kingsley that her information was good, on the other hand? That had been a trial, involving both Veritaserum and some poorly performed Legilimency. Both had been highly unpleasant, but the sight of thousands of dead Muggles would've been infinitely worse.
The truth of it was, though, that Hermione had done very little to prevent those deaths. The real hero tonight – and she never thought she'd be saying these words – was Draco Malfoy.
Now if only she could find him and let him know.
She ducked behind another chunk of destroyed stadium, waited yet another minute, then began moving again. It was more out of force of habit than actual need that she was moving so cautiously. The battle had started at the south end of the stadium and was now finishing up at the north. Some of the Death Eaters had scarpered when they realized the crowd wasn't real. Many had stayed, but since the Order had had so much prior noticed of the attack, they were able to rig the stadium with traps. The strategy had been to herd the oblivious Death Eaters into the rigged areas and let the traps do the rest.
Though there had been intense intervals of spellcasting, the Order had been in good shape when she left. If it hadn't been, Hermione could never have convinced herself to go. But her objective tonight, apart from assisting with the battle, was to rendezvous with Draco. Kingsley thought he would be in the middle of the action, but Hermione knew him better than that. Draco's sense of self-preservation was as sharp as ever; he would be as far away from the fighting as possible. If she wanted to see him, then that's where she had to be.
She only hoped he didn't leave before she got the chance to talk to him.
Hermione had thought a lot over the past month about what she would say to him tonight, but hadn't been able to come up with much of a script. She was a firm believer in actions speaking louder than words, and Draco's actions practically shouted that he was no longer content to be a pawn. He wasn't the boy she had known at Hogwarts. Wasn't the coward who had bullied anyone weaker than him. He was in control now, ready to take responsibility, stand up for himself, and make his own decisions. She had always thought that Draco was nothing more than wasted potential. She was glad that he had finally discovered his own worth.
After a few more minutes of crouching and sprinting, she reached the stadium's southern entrance. There was no sign of him. She crept out from the shadow of a broken food stand and stood in the open for a minute, trying to decide what to do.
Then, a low whistle came from her left. She drew her wand and rolled behind the rubble. A streak of silver joined her a moment later. She watched in awe as it coalesced into a raptor. Its eyes and wings were dark silver and the rest of its body seemed to glow. All she could do was stare: this was an exceptionally powerful Patronus.
It was also exceptionally annoyed. The bird ruffled its feathers and regarded her with an exasperated expression.
"Don't be stupid, Granger," came Draco's faint voice. She could hear the amusement in his tone and rolled her eyes. Without another word, the bird flapped its wings and disappeared, turning back into the distinctive, silvery wisp of a traveling Patronus.
Hermione followed quickly, wand still held at the ready. She had to laugh as the Patronus led her into, of all places, the woman's loo.
Draco was leaning against the far wall, idly twirling his wand in his hands. He straightened and stopped when he saw her. The hidden smile in the right corner of his mouth reappeared; Hermione couldn't stop herself from grinning.
"You have a beautiful Patronus," she blurted. Draco raised an eyebrow. That wasn't at all how she had wanted to begin. "I mean, it's great," she recovered hastily. "Powerful. How… How long did it take?"
"A few weeks," he said smoothly, his eyes alight. He held out his arm and the Patronus settled there naturally, as if it had been doing so for much longer than a week. He smiled at it warmly, and Hermione felt her heart skip. "I did some research," he continued. "It's a black-winged kite."
"I've never seen anything like it."
"Neither had I," he chuckled. "I'm… I'm glad you like it." With a twirl of his wand, the bird dissolved. It seemed to take her calm mood with it.
"You didn't tell me he was bringing werewolves." Her tone was more accusatory than she meant it to be. Draco's casualness faded immediately.
"Yes, you're quite welcome for the tip," he said sourly. "So glad I could put my life on the line for you and save thousands of Muggles and not even get a bloody thank you for my troubles."
The barb struck home, but Hermione refused to cave. "We weren't prepared for it."
"You seemed to do just fine."
"Because we got lucky," she huffed, crossing her arms. "No one was bitten this time, but next time?"
"There won't be a next time," Draco stated. He leveled a challenging look at her. She met it for a moment, but curiosity got the better of her.
"What do you mean?"
He smiled smugly; Hermione nearly regretted asking. "The Dark Lord promised those curs all the defenseless Muggle children they could eat. Can you imagine their fury when the only humans they could bite were very angry, very full-grown wizards?"
She could; the thought made her smile. "So they're out?"
"Completely. That brings his grand total of supports down to nearly twelve hundred, maybe less. What few vampire covens deigned to help will probably be deserting soon, too."
She laughed in quiet delight and leaned against a sink. "That's fantastic news, Draco. Really. We couldn't have done it without you."
"I know."
"Thank you," she said earnestly. "This is… This is amazing news."
She stared at the stall across from her, taking a moment to imagine Lupin's face when she told him that the werewolves were no longer fighting for Voldemort.
"Has there been any suspicion on your end?" she asked.
Draco shrugged. "Not yet. Mother says I've been distracted, but she's always been keen."
"Do you want out?"
He barked a laugh. "You would sacrifice your source?"
She tried and failed not to feel insulted. "You're not just a source, Draco," she reprimanded sternly. "You're…" Well, what was he, exactly? A friend? A colleague? A comrade?
"No, Granger," he said, saving her the task of deciding. "I think I'll stay. Can't leave a job half finished, after all."
"Well, be careful, then. If there's any chance you might be discovered, you have to let me know immediately, alright?"
"Fine."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You promise?"
"Merlin, Granger. Would you like me to make the Vow?"
She ignored his sarcasm and grinned. "No, I don't think that will be necessary. What have you got for me this time?"
"Nothing much," he sighed. "Vague plans for Muggle baiting. There's been talk of going into Hogwarts as soon as term starts, but with the werewolves gone, that will probably be rethought. I… I don't know when I'll be able to see you next." It was probably her imagination, but it sounded like the prospect depressed him.
"I'm glad you mentioned that," she smiled. "Kingsley and I have been giving this some thought. It's not very safe for us to be meeting up in the middle of battle, is it? What if we're seen, or overheard, or-"
"Killed?"
"Yes. Or if you're in trouble. Well, Lupin volunteered his old house for us to use as a rendezvous point." She dug around in her pocket and withdrew a small, polished stone. It hung on a silver chain. "You took Ancient Runes, right?"
"Yes."
"And you remember the designation for dates and times?"
He looked at her as if he had never heard a more foolish question.
"Sorry, of course you do," she said quickly, enthusiasm undiminished. "I've cast a Protean Charm on these. We can use them to coordinate meeting times. You can change the date and time by speaking to it in the Ancient Language. Whenever the runes change, the stone will get hot. Then, when you're ready to leave, all you have to do to is say Portus domus Remus. It will take you directly to the house."
"I'm impressed," he said, reaching for it. "But what if I don't fancy a necklace?"
He was joking, of course, but Hermione grinned and held out her right hand. On her ring finger was a stylish looking ring set with a dark stone that matched the one in Draco's palm.
"It's an IntelliChain," she explained. "A Weasley invention. It can be anything you want it to be."
He regarded the chain warily, rightly suspicious of any item which bore the name 'Weasley.' After a moment, he slid the chain over the ring finger of his right hand. "A ring's fine," he said. "Inconspicuous. If the Dark Lord asks, I can say it's an heirloom. Merlin knows my family has enough of them."
"Perfect. I'm glad you like it."
Awkward silence fell between them once again. He and Hermione both stared at the ring on his finger, and Hermione couldn't help feeling as if they had crossed some sort of barrier. With these rings, they would be able to communicate despite the distance and their circumstances. He would be able to ask for her help if he ever needed it, and she would be able to ask for his. It was hardly the traditional use, but it felt intimate all the same. A wave of heat rushed through her body at the thought, making her fidget.
Draco cleared his throat. "Well, I should be off."
"Of course. I'll see you…" She glanced at her ring.
"Soon," Draco finished. Hermione remained against the sink to watch him leave. He paused for a moment when he reached her, and his right hand flinched toward her. Her heart pounded, her eyes widened. Every nerve in her fingers anticipated his touch. But he thought better of it at the last moment and passed her by, leaving her tense and confused.
