She'd asked him to come with her; 'I need your eyes,' she'd said. 'I'm never quite sure what cultural norms are in the wizarding world, what's considered reasonable.' He looks around and thinks, whatever reasonable is, this isn't it. The orphanage is relentlessly institutional and cheerless. Someone has taped pages ripped from a children's book onto the wall and the yellow duckies and smiling pigs somehow make the place even sadder; a horse picture hangs askew and he has to fight the urge to go over and stick it back up. "How many children live here," he asks after a few minutes, his voice carefully neutral.
"Twenty-three."
"You read to them?" He's not sure how that's possible; the room has no bookshelves, no books. The floor is painted concrete, there are, he counts, fifteen chairs around tables, a bin of toys sits in one corner. He's willing to bet the toys are wretched cast offs. His own nursery, he remembers, had looked like a shop had thrown up in it, the result of an over-indulgent mother with no budget.
"I do, that and also help with some administrative tasks. Draco," she turns to him, dark eyes troubled. "Is this as bad as I think it is?"
"I don't know how bad you think this is." He looks out the window to a fenced yard. Children kick a ball in the dirt; an older girl has herded some toddlers into a corner and is standing watch over them. They all look thin to him. He's fairly sure his mother would have thrown out every single thing they were wearing.
"I want your opinion, uncolored by mine."
"This is… this is unacceptable. Magical children should not be living like this. I'm not even sure if muggle children should be living like this. I thought this place had funding." He walks over to the toy bin, picks up a stuffed bear that's worn and sticky. He hadn't known stuffed toys could get sticky. "This is disgusting."
"Can you get your photographer friend from the Prophet to come in here, take pictures in secret?" Hermione asks. "And will he sit on them until I tell him to run them?"
"He's not my friend," Draco says absently, watching the children play in the dirt, "but yes." If he has to imperious the man, she'll get her pictures.
Later, at lunch, he explodes. "How is it still that bad if you are there several times a week? What is going on Hermione? What do you and Theo know?"
"A lot of money goes into that place," she says, handing her menu back to the waiter with a polite smile. "It's very well funded."
"Bollocks."
"But it is. The money goes in, Draco. Actually, as far as I can tell even more money goes in than the official funding explains. I'm trying to discover where it goes."
"They're laundering money." He looks at her flatly. "Tell me you're joking."
"I'm not. I've found the books documenting all the income, but it's not clear where it's coming from and I can't find the expense ledgers. I've made copies of what I have found, but…"
"Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Be careful. Promise me you're being careful." He reaches across the table and takes her hand, laces his fingers through hers. "I mean it, Hermione. Go slowly. If you get caught…it would be bad."
She shakes her head at him, "I'll be fine; don't worry about me."
"I do, don't be daft. Of course I do." He looks at her, willing her to listen to him. "You have a history of insane bravery and it's gotten you hurt before. If you were hurt again, I don't know what … just - just humor my selfishness, promise me you'll be careful."
"Why, Drakey, I didn't know you cared," she bats her eyes at him and he drops her hand in disgust.
"The things you don't know, you bloody cow, would astonish you." He glares at her and she flushes, then takes a sip of her water. "I'm still waiting for that promise."
"I'll be careful." She looks at him and he raises his eyebrows and drums his fingers on the table. "Fine, I promise."
"Good."
"Draco," she hesitates. "I need to talk about something else. I'm... relieved that that environment is not considered, um, acceptable in the wizarding world. I have something somewhat related I want you to research for me, an idea I got from talking to your mother."
He raises his eyebrows, pulls a piece of bread from the basket. "What?"
"Changelings."
"Changelings? Explain."
"It's a tradition in folklore, fairies stealing away babies and leaving behind, well, different things but generally some kind of fetch that would sicken and die." She starts to reach down to her bag, he assumes to pull out a book, before he stops her.
"I know what they are, Hermione. I want to know where you're going, what you need me to figure out."
"How," she asks, taking her own piece of bread and staring to butter it, "would we make a similar fetch?"
He bites the inside of his cheek and looks at her. Well. That's interesting. "How long does it have to survive, what can I make it out of, what does it have to be able to do? What are the parameters? You're talking about a pretty complicated bit of magic. Dark magic, probably, by the time we get it all solved."
"Which would be why I'm asking you."
"I'm flattered, I guess. I still need the specifications"
"We need to be able to make it indistinguishable from the original, not just similar enough for a cursory inspection but so identical that no muggle technology can tell the difference. It can die fairly quickly, hell, it can be found dead, but has to maintain the illusion until it's buried. Or cremated, I guess," she shrugs.
"Blood magic," he mutters.
"What?"
"I'm just thinking out loud. The best way to personalize the fetch is going to be to use the blood of the person you're replacing, even just a few drops. Can I base research on the assumption I can use blood? That you can get a blood sample from the victim?"
"Not a victim," she smiles at him, "But, yes, you can use a blood sample."
He looks at her but she clearly doesn't intend to explain any further so he just says, "Could you pass me the butter."
. . . . . . . . . .
Of the two new members, Astoria arrives first. She looks around, smiles at Blaise who blows her a kiss, then sits next to Greg, who moves over to give her more space to lean on the wall.
"I think you all know Astoria," Hermione sit cross legged in the chair, Draco has draped himself over one of the chair's padded arms and is balancing himself, one foot on the floor, arm behind Hermione.
"Where's the other one?" asks Theo.
"Daphne and I haven't had time for our little chat yet. Or do you mean Miss Lovegood?" Hermione looks at him. He's made his displeasure about trusting an "outsider" more than clear. "Be nice, Theo."
When Luna does come in she's got an armload of red roses and is wearing what looks to be about 3 different sundresses layered on each other. "I brought you these." She gives one to Theo, who's moved to within inches of her side and is looking down at her. He closes his hand around the stem and starts an elaborate bow, then swears as a thorn thrusts into his finger.
"Fuck!" He glares down at the blond who just shrugs and says, "Pretty things have thorns. You should be more careful."
Blaise, when handed his rose, breaks each thorn off and hands them back to Luna, who smiles at him and blushes. Pansy rolls her eyes and sticks the stem of the rose in her bag. Astoria simply thanks her. Greg mumbles something, then hands his rose to Astoria.
"My love is a red, red rose," Luna hands the rest to Hermione, who laughs and responds, "That's newly sprung in June? Or did you just hope to make Theo bleed?"
"I don't think blood is the problem anymore, not here anyway," Luna settles down in the center of the circle.
"It damn well is," Theo mutters, sucking on his finger.
"So… Luna," Pansy narrows her eyes. "Why would you want to join us, anyway? This isn't the flower club. We're planning on, I don't know, overthrowing the government and running wild around the halls of power. Not really your thing."
"Yeah, I thought you were a member of the Order," Greg mutters.
"Not really," Luna smiles at him. "People think I'm strange. They don't tend to want me to join them."
"Go figure."
"Theo," Hermione warns him.
"Lady," he mutters acerbically before turning back to the girl. "Why do you want to be here? We're not your type."
"I don't have a type." She cocks her head to the side. "It's the vampire thing. The Order has been almost wholly taken over by vampires." Pansy chokes back a laugh and Greg looks at Astoria who shakes her head. Blaise has become fascinated by the laces of his shoe.
"I… what?" Theo looks at her, then at Draco and mouths, "are you kidding me?"
"So," Luna smiles at Blaise, "shall we martyr ourselves? Fling ourselves heedless into the bloody meadows and rouse the people to overthrow the tyrant?"
"I was hoping to accomplish this sans martyrdom," Hermione raises her eyebrows.
"You won't, though."
"Anyway," Hermione says, commanding attention. "Luna is going to be working on a long term side project with Theo. Tonight, however, is really just a chance to get to know both her and Astoria, to welcome them to our merry band. Neither of them are going to be at most meetings so enjoy this time but, as the saying goes, don't get attached. There's wine in the kitchen."
. . . . . . . . . .
They're washing up and Hermione has her hands plunged into the water when Theo says, "I don't trust her."
"Astoria?"
"No, the other one. She's too batty to be reliable." He leans up against the counter and with a flick of his wand finishes the dishes. "Would you stop that mindless chore and listen to me."
"It's soothing." Hermione turns to him, hands dripping as she reaches for a towel.
"Have Draco soothe you; you shouldn't be doing dishes like some muggle." Theo shakes his head. "She's unstable. Did she really pass the examination?"
Hermione hesitates. "She… her mind is hard to read. It wanders."
"Color me unsurprised. Don't let sentiment weaken you, Hermione. You want one of your old friends to join you, some connection to the past. You're not going to get it. If you're the Dark Lady former warriors for the light aren't going to sign on. They're just not."
"And you're prejudiced against her."
"Lady," Theo drops to his knees in the kitchen.
"So you're being formal?" This was, she thought with some annoyance, one of the downsides of the vaguely feudal title; clever would-be vassals could exploit the implied relationship and Theo was nothing if not clever.
"If I have to prostrate myself and lick your feet to get you to listen, that's what I'll do, so, yes, I'm being formal. She's a liability. I'm begging you, Lady, to get rid of her, or at least limit her access. Don't trust her. Use her if you have to, but don't let her know what you're doing."
"No one knows all of what I'm doing except maybe you and Draco, and I doubt even you see all the threads." She shakes her head. "Get up, Theo. The floor is filthy after tonight's little gathering and I don't get off on literally having my boots licked." He stays, stubbornly, on his knees, and she swears. "Get up."
"Not until I know you're listening to me."
"You don't do subordinate well."
"A strange thing to say to a man on his knees," he looks up at her. "And if you wanted a mindless underling, you should have asked Greg to stay late, not me. In private you get my real opinions, not flattery. She's dangerous. She's fixated on her delusions – vampires, my arse – and weird poetic gestures. She's – "
"She's a woman with access to private printing presses, Theo. She has the know-how and the technical capability to run off enough pamphlets to send one to every potential conservative in England. When it's time for your little research project to come to light, we'll need a more reliable way to get that information into every home than Pansy's society pages or the Daily Prophet." She looks down at him. "Now get up."
"Let me look into other options. Please."
She closes her eyes and inhales sharply before she sighs and looks at him with resignation. "Fine. Go forth and look into other printing options. Now get up."
"Thank you, Lady." He takes the towel from her hands as he gets up and makes one of his courtly bows over her hand, eyes on hers. "I live to serve."
"I swear, you live to be a torment," she mutters.
"I live to see your goals, our goals, come to fruition. And that… fruitcake … is a mistake."
"He's got a point." Draco has been silent until now, standing in the doorway. "She's dotty, always has been. We said from the beginning – you said – that the inner circle had to be absolutely trustworthy and she's just not. Greg may be an idiot, but he'd die for this. She wouldn't."
"Don't insult Greg; he may be a hammer to your scalpel but you will not insult any of our core group. Will not. And I'm not having this argument over the sink." Hermione stalks back to the living room and throws herself into the chair. "Actually, I'm not having this argument."
"Because we're right," Draco follows her, "and you're much too clever to argue with two people who are both right."
"I will - hand me that book – accede to Theo's request and keep her isolated. And if you should find another private printing option I will be open to it. But – "
Theo hands her the book with both hands. "Principles of Accounting? Scintillating."
" – you can't have them back, Hermione." There are times Draco finds the lack of other chairs in the room really irritating, and this is one of them. He can stand in front of her, like a petitioner, or sit at her feet, but he can't just pull a chair up and try to force the interaction as equals. "The trio, your little resistance group, it's all gone. You aren't a sweet, little schoolgirl anymore and this isn't a simple battle against an obvious villain. This is revolution and you're going to get your hands dirty and none of those people, none of those great and good people who you loved when you were twelve, see in shades of grey. They aren't going to play, not this game, and if you would just open your eyes you'd know that. Who else would you try to pull in? Neville?"
"Too in love with nobility," she snorts.
"Exactly. Potter?" he persists.
"Harry wasn't interested."
"You asked Harry Potter to help you overthrow the Ministry." Theo starts to laugh. "That was an…interesting idea, if by 'interesting' you mean 'daft'. What did he say?"
"I suppose 'recoiled in horror' might sound a bit dramatic but it's probably a pretty good description of his response. I obliviated him, of course." She frowns. "I wonder if some fragment of a memory of that is what triggered his desire to run for office. I wish he weren't doing that, he's forcing my hand."
"Hermione, Lady," Draco settles on sitting in front of her. "You can't have them back, not in the inner circle. They may support you – anyone who sees that orphanage should condemn the Order, and not just because it's filled with blood sucking parasites - "
"Though, metaphorically speaking, it is," Theo interjects, then looks at the roses Luna left, still in a pile on the floor, and murmurs, "My love is a red, red rose. Just - bugger me."
"Not tonight, I've got a headache," Draco quips.
Theo snorts and points at the roses. "She's not quite as insane as I thought."
"What are you talking about?"
"It was a bloody metaphor. She was being convoluted, not insane, the dotty bitch. And Blaise gave her back the thorns from his and then they left together and - " Theo starts to sputter.
"Why does that bother you?" Hermione looks down at her accounting textbook. "Greg and Astoria are probably off doing the same thing. At least I hope they are. I'd like to encourage Greg's little tendre."
"Why?" Draco looks at her then shakes his head. "Never mind, I probably don't want to know." He sighs and leans his shoulder up against the chair. "Metaphor or wholly insane, I still don't trust her. I think you're blinded by your history with her, just like you are with Potter."
"I'm taking care of Harry." She reaches one hand down and he reaches up and takes it, idly twines his fingers in and around hers.
"I wish you'd let me just kill him. Or at least hurt him. Think of it as a present to me," he wheedles.
"Cultivate patience, Draco. It's a virtue." She looks up at Theo. "You're still here?"
"Have you taken my counsel, Lady?"
"I have."
"Then, with your gracious permission, I'm gone." And he is.
. . . . . . . . . .
A/N
"My love is like a red, red rose / That's newly sprung in June" from A Red Red Rose by Robert Burns. The actual poem uses a simile but I needed a metaphor so Luna misquotes. Sorry.
Thank you so much to my lovely reviewers: Chester99, dulce de leche go, LadiePhoenix99, my name is mommy, and Pank98. I am always thrilled to get and read your feedback; as I say every time, you fill my day with smiles.
Thank you thank you thank you, everyone, for continuing to read this, and comment and enjoy; your kindness and support are wonderful.
