Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.

A/N: So there aren't enough sorrys in the world to make up for the delay but I've been busy with studies and other stories that have captured my interest and surgery but here I am fully recovered and with a plan. I'm going to update this story every Wednesday, so you should expect longer or at the very least more regular updates. So I'm reposting this chapter after rewriting it a bit because it was bothering me in its old form and it still bother's me a bit but i think it's a bit better now. Sorry about that. :)

If there's anyone still reading this, your reviews make me smile and they make me write faster! ;)

Merry reading!

-S

Chapter 11: Belief

Or at least someone who looked exceedingly like Hermione Granger. Draco peered closely at her, noting the clever transformation still held a few differences from the true Ginny Weasley. But to someone who spent little time around the Weasley brood, who had seen the Weasley girl perhaps once or twice in person and never up close, some one like a Death Eater, the differences would be unnoticeable.

Clever; very clever.

But now the question was why?

"Granger why on earth are you willingly looking like a Weasley?" He intoned, his voice twisting sardonically.

"Draco, you don't get it, I am Ginny Weasley." Her voice came out higher pitched and if he closed his eyes he was certain it'd be a perfect replica. She looked at him fiercly then, her dark eyes, just shy of the right shade of brown that would match Weasley's, alight with the enlightenment she wanted to bestow on him. He realized their location then, if there was something for him to discover he would have to through intuition and whatever subtle hints she provided. Great. If anything this was proof that the girl before him was actually Hermione Granger, she would find a way to turn communal prison time into a classroom. Obviously she didn't want anyone else to know that though. He would play along for now.

"Well, don't expect me to applaud you for the epiphany. It's hardly an achievement." He sat down then suddenly and she sank to the floor beside him, her finger idly making markings in the sand. The script was foreign, the graceful calligraphy curling in and out of the letters and he was sure he couldn't transcribe it. Until he shifted slightly to the side and saw that it was not in fact letters that she was creating but rather an eye.

Her question was crystal clear then: Were they being watched?

He shook his head then once more when she carefully scratched her ears.

She paused for a second, in surprise and then her face tightened. She didn't trust him. Well, he wasn't entirely sure if what he was telling her was true but it made no difference to him. She looked frustrated beyond belief but there was nothing he could do about that. If she didn't want to talk to him, then that was her own bloody problem.

He sat back, idly crossing one foot over the other. What was her angle here? If she could so easily transform into Ginny Weasley, why would she do it now?

Ginny Weasley, what was so remarkable about her?

Nothing.

Although she looked fantastic in that Quidditch uniform- right on task, Draco, focus.

He pondered for a moment before looking at her again. She was staring at him, her face determined as if willing him to come to the right conclusion. He almost snorted at that, she could keep staring all day, it wasn't going to do shit.

He considered what she had said just moments before she changed, Ginny was pureblood, she was underage and she was too young to be inducted into the Order. Which meant she didn't know anything worth questioning her for, unlike Hermione who would have been privy to Harry's plans. But she had revealed nothing the entire time he had been questioning her, except once when she mentioned that she was going home for the winter. The death eaters had located her parents in muggle London fairly easily, their spies following a bushy haired girl from Platform 9 3/4. But upon arriving in the front yard, the girl had cleverly snuck into the basement and vanished. So where was the real Hermione Granger?

Ginny Weasley had made it public knowledge that she was following Dean Thomas home to Scotland for the winter holidays at the Platform, her mother had dragged her into a heated conversation over the matter before eventually submitting to her passionate daughter. Weasley had bumped into him as she passed by, her face alight with victory and he had seen her go off himself. But then the next day, his father had told him that he saw Arthur with his 'obscenely red-headed' daughter in Gringotts withdrawing money. But how could Ginny be in Scotland and in London simultaneously.

The answer was obvious, she couldn't. Which meant that Hermione had been masquerading as Ginny Weasley for an extended period of time. But what was key? Where was all this leading? Why the subterfuge? What could she do as Ginny Weasley that she couldn't do as Hermione Granger? Why didn't she know anything when he questioned her, she fought, she resisted the imperious curse but on those odd moments when he broke through she had nothing to say?

Nothing consequential, unless she was not part of Dumbledore's plan. Which meant she was doing something else. Even he knew that you didn't waste a mind like hers. Granger may have been a mudblood, but she was quicker than most purebloods on a Sunday and twice as quick on a Monday.

He looked at her again interest. She wasn't identical which meant it wasn't Polyjuice. Additionally she hadn't drunk anything. But she had transformed without a wand.

But she was muggleborn, so she couldn't be a metaphormagus. A wand was tantamount in performing magic. But she hadn't used one. So how had she done it? He settled his questions for later, but she had transformed herself for a reason.

Which he still had yet to discover.

She stilled as a familiar rattling echoed through the cell. She glanced back at him but he looked at her blankly, shaking his head. He saw her visibly shrink and for the first time in a long time, he saw her scared, completely and utterly lost, but then it was gone. And she was stone faced as their captor appeared, his skinny fingers, miles in length, caressed her hair. She shivered but maintained her composure.

Draco felt tendrils of annoyance whisper at him. He was trying to think here and all this noise wasn't helping. He needed some peace an quiet, he almost didn't care if the man took Granger with him.

He shook his head in an attempt to block out the noise but it was unsuccessful. He looked up at Granger who looked too much like a little girl whose puppy had been stolen. It was bizarre, he was so used to seeing her uptight and righteous, to see her so defeated made him feel almost...protective? No that wasn't it, he vehemently denied, it was more...possessive she was his responsibility. To torture, to question, etc. He vaguely noticed that she was casting furtive glances in his direction and he have her a nod in response feeling like he ought to acknowledge them, after all she was supposed to think she was on his side and he was just going along with all this. He couldn't tell if she wanted him to do something or whether she was just checking to see if she had gotten it yet.

The man tugged at her again and she visibly recoiled as his spidery fingers cupped her face, pulling her towards him. Draco dropped his gaze to the floor, just because he didn't like Granger, didn't mean he wanted to see this.

"Get your hands off me." She ground out and he was impressed at the stillness in her voice, she barely sounded disturbed.

"But you are no longer so dirty now, are you? I can touch you all the more freely." He grabbed at her neck, pulling her up in a sharp motion, his face pressed to her hair.

"It's startling, you can barely discern the difference, between our kind and theirs. She even smells the same."

He flashed his eyes to Draco who maintained his gaze on the floor, he didn't really feel like playing along right then. The man seemed to sense his mutiny because he let out a deep breath before speaking again.

"Draco you will be rewarded for your...accomplishments, but your task is not complete." He took a glance at Hermione as he said that and predictably she let out a cry of surprise and shock, looking over to Draco in hatred and hurt.

It was a fairly incredible performance, if he was in the state of mind to notice. Instead he shuffled his feet and tried to look ashamed or contemplative or whatever the hell the man wanted him to look like.

"Oh, did you think Draco here was on your side?" He cooed, all sympathy and murder. " How quaint." He saw Hermione look at the man in quiet calculation, she threw a scrutinizing gaze over at Draco and he felt like she could see through him, that just for a second she lost all the faith that she had in him.

He didn't look at Hermione again. What was it that he had was talking about, some rot about accomplishments...

Accomplishments.

Suddenly he felt like he was very close to something. He didn't know what, but accomplishments sounded right. He looked at her, his eyes combing her form. Hermione Granger was nothing without her accomplishments.

It wasn't who she was; it was what she'd done.

But what had she done?

His feet itched to pace and his fingers clenched. He needed more time.

" Now I must ask one teeny, tiny favor from you before you can leave." That damned voice broke his concentration and he felt the strands of the oncoming epiphany drift away from him. He tried, he tried so hard but they were gone and he was left, once more in the dark.

But he felt renewed hope; he had an idea of what she wanted him to guess at now. He would figure it out, he would. But now was the time to pay attention. Carelessness was nothing short of deadly when it came to death eaters, and they were in the hive.

"What?" He questioned dully, attempting to keep his newfound discovery out of his voice. Hermione was motionless, her eyes trained on him but she showed no signs of panic which was surprising, or enlightening, he thought to himself. She expected this favor then. So she knew he would be asked to do something, something that pertained to her transformation. He kicked the dirt at his feet.

He was so close to discerning the truth, but it was evading him still. He took inventory, what did he know? He knew that the thin man wanted him to pretend that he was befriending Granger to get her to reveal her secrets. Check. He knew that Granger thought he befriended her and gave up her secrets. Check.

So now he was meant to do something that they both seemed to want him to do.

"Tut-tut, all in good time." He laughed then, full-bodied and manipulative before latching a collar onto Hermione's neck, and dragging her by a rusting iron chain.

"This would have been more appropriate before you revealed yourself I suppose, but no matter, I was not expecting Draco to succeed so quickly." He smiled ironically back at Draco before beckoning him forward with a curled forefinger. The tips were painted blood red.

Or, Draco, thought himself queasily, perhaps it was just blood.

Fuck you, and fuck your nail polish. He intoned in his head, taking a breath to steady his stomach, he'd never done very well with blood.

"Quickly now, we mustn't keep Him waiting."

At this, Hermione stilled. And suddenly thrust her head back, looking at Draco with dread. Her cinnamon eyes bore into his and she glared at him, before the look turned pleading. For the first time, she looked nervous.

Which only served to quadruple his own anxiety.

The thought struck him like he'd walked into a wall. Of course.

She needed him to confirm that she wasn't Ginny Weasley.

He looked at her again and then she flickered back to normal and for a second he almost stopped in his tracks, in that second she had flickered back to Hermione Granger.

But then she was back to looking like the Weasley.

He wanted to break something; he want to curse her, anything that would make this mind-numbing lack of understanding go away. Nothing was making any fucking sense.

What did he know? He knew they were about to face a room full of fucking death eaters and the Dark Lord himself and he was supposed to lie. They wouldn't question him but if he lied, they'd kill him without a second though.

Damn it. Not helping. Okay think, what do you know?

He knew she was Hermione Granger but she looked a hell of a lot like Weasley.

Because he knew who she was.

But what if he didn't, what if he believed that she was Ginny Weasley.

He thought back to what he knew, she had been about to explain but she asked if anyone was watching, or listening. He remembered her frustration with his responses.

But suppose she didn't want him to answer her questions. Suppose he was meant to watch what she was doing. She wasn't asking questions, she was giving him clues!

Granger, you stupid tart, this was not the time to tiptoe through the daisies. When you're about to die you give people facts, not fucking hieroglyphs in the sand.

Idiot, he thought in her direction, but her head was resolutely down. He briefly thought about saying it out loud but then reconsidered as he remember where he was. What he was about to do. But it was startlingly simple, the death eaters wanted him to say she was Ginny Weasley, Granger wanted him to say she was Ginny Weasley.

He felt like he'd won the lottery, not that he needed the money, but the metaphor held. He didn't know what Snape was complaining about, this two-sided shit was easy as pie.

He looked up again and he saw her wavering again, he had to stop thinking of her as she was but as what she needed to be.

If he believed he was seeing Ginny Weasley and he heard Ginny's voice, the transformation would complete itself.

He looked at her again and pictured Ginny Weasley before him but she was still there, those stupid little discrepancies were still fucking there.

He closed his eyes and concentrated, he remembered what Hermione sounded like and removed it from his head, and then imagined Ginny Weasley's voice and her disgustingly orange hair that couldn't possibly be real and her annoying tendency to follow Potter around. He looked up quickly, without pausing to think about what he was going to see, he just went on instinct and there she was.

Ginny fucking Weasley.

Granger, what have you done? Because of course, Hermione Granger had just eliminated the moral cause of the Dark Side, blood was now in the eye of the beholder. Superiority was going to be fucking hard to establish when every other pure blood was actually a mudblood in disguise, assuming of course that people other than Granger could do this. He took a furtive glance at the man, he looked so familiar but Draco still couldn't put his finger on it.

He suddenly felt very displaced. Who else was playing her game?

The dark corridors were lit with giant wooden sconces that were placed every ten feet or so. The man before him paused before muttering a quick incantation and the lights in the hall way flickered and died. It pitch black and Draco scratched his neck uncomfortably. He shifted his feet, reaching to his side and let out a breath of relief as the comforting solidity of the limestone beside him met his fingers. He leaned surreptitiously against the wall.

Then as his eyes adjusted he noticed that it was not quite as dark as it had seemed, there was a slim beam of flickering orange streaming out of the floor, the junction where the wall met the floor to be exact.

They had, it appeared, arrived.

Well, fuck me, he thought to himself wryly, here goes nothing.