A sheepish hello to everyone. So, it's been awhile. Three years, but to be honest, it's your reviews that brought me back. Lately I've been in a writing mood, and seeing reviews really made me want to continue with this story. So, thank you for that.
So, what's been happening with me and with the world since this story was last updated? I studied abroad in London, I graduated from college with majors in English and History, I am employed and have moved to a different state. Barack Obama was elected president, Michael Jackson died, Avatar became the highest grossing film of all time. So, you know, not much. I will try to do better, I promise. So, here is the much awaited new chapter.
Chapter Eight:
Elena woke in her own bed. Malfoy was gone, the Dark Lord no longer suspected him, and the world, for all intents and purposes, looked exactly the same as it had three days ago. She rose from the bed and performed her morning ablutions as if the world had not tilted on its axis for what had to be at least the tenth time in her life. Draco Malfoy was now her ally in her subversions of the Dark Lord. Of course, it seemed like he had always been on her side, she just hadn't known it. But where to go from here?
"A girl was killed..." Elena pushed the thought from her mind. It didn't matter that Malfoy had gone to the Order because of her. It wasn't like he had defected out of grief. It had nothing to do with the person she had been.
And it didn't matter.
Elena Hisham still had a job to do, no matter that the last three days felt like three years and that she would much rather go back to a time when things had been so much less complicated. The age of ten sounded nice, when she was just a regular Muggle with no cares in the world. But that was lifetimes ago and she had a job to do, and neither the Dark Lord nor the Order would be pleased if she were to neglect her duties.
After preparing a pot of tea and some toast, Elena spread her dossiers of every known Death Eater on her kitchen table. She studied the folders, knowing she should turn over the evidence to Harry and the Order, but something gave her pause. Why had the Order believed she was dead? What evidence has McGonagall seen? Something was off about the circumstances of her capture, but Elena had no idea what.
A beak pecked at her window sill. A messenger owl. It seemed so mundane, but life carried on. She took the letter and sent the owl on its way.
Elena,
No doubt Draco has invited you already, but I would be remiss if I did not invite you for tea on Sunday. It has been far too long since we have seen each other, my dear. I hope this message reaches you well and that we will see each other soon.
Regards,
Narcissa Malfoy
Elena nearly groaned aloud. Now was not the time for tea and biscuits with Draco Malfoy's matchmaking mother. Really, this day could not have began any better.
And then Draco Malfoy burst from her fireplace.
Excellent.
Ron Weasley still lay in the infirmary, his wounds healing at a frustratingly slow pace. He should be out in the field, gathering information and hunting down Voldemort's horcruxes, instead he was stuck lying about like an invalid. He hated it. If there hadn't been four bloody Death Eaters he could have escaped and everything would have been fine.
Instead, he walked into a fucking ambush.
It was neither particularly late, nor was it particularly dark. Ron felt perfectly comfortable travelling alone in the twilight hours of the day. It was still a little too early for real danger, and his flat was only a few blocks away.
He saw the first Death Eater come at him, rushing from the alley as he passed by. He dispatched him quickly, it was the other three who turned out to be problematic. They were not so obliging as to line up and fight him one at a time. Instead, working together he was unconscious in seconds. It should have been the inglorious end to the short life of Ronald Weasley.
But he woke up, which was a pleasant surprise for a moment. And then the pain began. And it continued with little interval until he was dragged before the Dark Lord's horde of minions and tortured once again.
And then, as quickly as it began, it was over, and Ron was in front of the Order being healed by friendly faces.
And he had no idea why he was alive. Had Malfoy done something in that last second, somehow used a Portkey to send him back? It would have been unbelievable stupid, so Ron had no problem believing that it was possible. But there was no love lost between them, and loathe as Ron was to admit it, Malfoy wasn't an idiot. A git, yes, and idiot, not exactly.
But if Malfoy hadn't gotten him out, who had?
Professor McGonagall stepped into the room. "Mr. Weasley, it seems you are recovering quite well. No doubt you will be able to resume your duties shortly."
"Not soon enough."
"You should not have been travelling alone, Mr. Weasley, especially without applying the most basic of protection charms. You seem to be forgetting how much it will cost the Order if you were to be killed! How do you think Potter would react if you had been killed?"
"I did have a protection charm engaged, Professor, it was how I-"
"Yes, I read your report, Mr. Weasley, I do not need you to remind me. We had a team move your belongings here for the time being. It is safe to assume that the location of your flat has been compromised." Her lips compressed, a thin line barely visible. "I fear it is not safe to live alone in London anymore. We're moving some of our more vulnerable members here and setting up safe houses."
If it were not for his injuries, Ron would have leaped off the bed, "I'm not vulnerable!"
McGonagall slanted a pointed look at his bandaged body, "For the time being, Mr. Weasley, you are. And once you are well, you will be guarding these locations. Believe me, everyone wants you well as soon as possible." She looked away and then muttered, "If only she hadn't been quite so thorough."
"I couldn't agree more, Professor." Ron slumped back onto the bed. He started to say something, but held it back. Then he sighed and said, "Hermione promised she'd visit with me again, can you remind her?"
Her eyebrows shot up, "Potter didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what?" Suspicion laced his words.
"She's gone."
Draco Malfoy did not look pleased. Elena had been expecting this, but not quite so soon. He must have come directly from meeting with Harry. His face was more than a little red and he was breathing heavily. There was even soot from the fireplace in his hair.
"You-"
"Good morning, Draco," she interrupted, "Would you like a cup of tea?"
"No, I would not like a cup of tea." He gritted the words out. "How could you have not told me? I thought I was your friend!"
She narrowed her eyes at him, "Are you that bloody stupid? I take it H—you were told?"
"I was told."
"How much?" She sat down on the couch and gestured for Draco to sit.
He remained standing and began to pace. "Everything."
"Oh, I seriously doubt that."
"Are you, or are you not H—"
"I am. Was. Is. Were. I'm not quite sure of the proper conjugation at this moment. But, nevertheless, I have been."
He stopped pacing and turned to her. "I-" He sat. "You could have told me."
She raised an eyebrow and smirked, "When exactly? Perhaps when you betrayed me? You know they would have killed or imprisoned me, right? Maybe when we had dinner with your parents six weeks ago? How about at the gathering this week when I nearly killed a boy I used to—" Her volume increased and she cut herself off. "It's not like you were ever honest with me."
"I almost was a time or two. But I thought you-"
"I know. So did I." She sighed and lay back against the couch. "Your mother has invited me for tea on Sunday. You failed to mention it while you were betraying me."
He half smiled, "My father didn't tell me until after."
"Then I'm sure you can be forgiven for not passing on the message. Shall we go, then? On Sunday?"
"After all of this?" He didn't seem enthused.
"Life goes on, Malfoy." He flinched. "Sorry, Draco."
"I joined the Order for you."
"No, you didn't. You joined the Order for you. I was merely the catalyst."
Draco moved to the couch and sat next to her. Without looking at her, he said, "I wish I had joined the Order for you." He turned his head slightly and leaned towards her. His lips softly brushed her cheek.
"I'm glad you didn't." She whispered. Her face turned almost imperceptibly. And then, "No." She stood up and moved to the chair Draco had been occupying. "We'd best not have any of that."
Draco was silent. He stared at her with new eyes.
"Sunday, then?" He nodded. "Very well. You'd best be off." At first he was reluctant to move. But Elena remained firm in her dismissal.
"Then I will see you later, I suppose." He left the way he came.
"What do you mean, she's gone?" Ron asked Professor McGonagall.
"Do you mean Potter hasn't told you, Mr. Weasley? Miss Granger has been among the Death Eaters for the past five years. She was the one who got you out. Clever girl that she is, she turned your pin into a Portkey. Sent you right here."
Ron's jaw dropped. He was struck dumb for several moments. Finally, "You mean Hermione did this to me?"
"She saved your life."
"She tortured me!" He winced.
"She didn't have much of a choice. You'd better rest, Weasley." She stepped out of the room and almost ran into Harry Potter.
"Sorry," Harry muttered, and stepped past her into the room. "So," he said to Ron, "I take it McGonagall told you?"
"How come Hermione didn't tell me herself, or tell me that she was leaving?" He crossed his arms. "I mean, we were—you know, friends, she told you!"
"Ginny discovered the glamours, McGonagall uncovered them, Hermione didn't willingly reveal herself." Harry sat in the chair next to the bed. "In fact, Malfoy brought her in. Captured her."
"How?"
"Slipped a potion in her tea."
Ron rolled his eyes, "Not that how. Hermione Granger, a Death Eater?"
Harry seemed reluctant to share her story, but the words burst forth, "They didn't kill her five years ago. They tortured her, the brainwashed her, they changed her, and they Marked her. Now she's the Dark Lord's head spy hunter."
"What's brainwashed?"
Harry searched for the words, "Er...made her think she wasn't Hermione anymore. Took away her memories, gave her new ones. Well, tried to anyway. It seems it didn't quite take." He fidgeted in his chair. "She's Marked. The Dark Lord was calling her, apparently it can be quite painful. She had to leave or he would have known."
Disgust was painted across Ron's face. "How could she let them do that to her? I'd rather die than be Marked."
"I suppose she was more useful to them alive."
"Really?" Ron looked skeptical, "How does that make any sense?"
"She's Hermione." The reasons seemed self evident to Harry. "Cleverest witch at Hogwarts, best friend of Harry Potter, and Muggle born and proud of it. It was a huge blow to lose her."
Ron still didn't look convinced, "Course it was." He paused, "But," Harry seemed poised to interrupt, "No, let me finish. What did they gain from making her a Death Eater? I mean I l—I have infinite respect for her, but there are loads of clever witches, and not all of them are on our side. And they hate Muggle borns, so I why would they give one so much power? I'm not saying I don't want her to be Hermione, I'm just saying that it doesn't make sense."
"She's Hermione. I talked to her. If anyone knows her, wouldn't I?" Harry couldn't believe that she was anyone but Hermione. They'd removed all of her glamours, that was what she looked like, no questions.
"I want her to be Hermione, too. It's just—How can we be sure?" He paused, not really wanting to say the next words. "Would Hermione have tortured me?"
"She did it to save your life, Ron. We've got our friend back after five years, and now it looks like you want her to be a fraud. Haven't you noticed, we don't have that many friends left. I mean Dean and Pavarti and Cho and Charlie—and that's not even everybody! Hermione's back, just be happy about it." Harry stood and stormed out of the room.
"I'd be jumping for joy," Ron muttered, "If I could stand."
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