Chapter 6

Hermione's stomach lurched. It was a trap. Victor betrayed them.

All three reached for their wands and stopped when the old woman spoke again.

"I've been waiting for you. Perhaps you knew my niece?" She pointed a gnarled index finger to the name plate at her desk.

Maybus Trelawny.

Oh.

Hermione had never known a real seer. Divination at Hogwarts was a load of shit, and Professor Trelawny was a fraud, but the Department of Mysteries was filled with prophecies collected throughout the ages. Obviously, it was possible to see the future to some extent. Voldemort had certainly put stock in divination, as had Dumbledore.

"And I know what you seek." The librarian's voice creaked like old cupboard hinges in need of a good oiling. "Come with me."

Maybus hobbled around her desk and headed off towards the stacks. Completely oblivious to the open-mouthed, slack-jawed Golden Trio.

Not a trap.

Hermione breathed out slowly, heart was still racing. Her shoulders sagged in relief and she relaxed her grip on her wand.

Not a trap.

Sybil Trelawny was on Dumbledore's side. Was there any reason to think her aunt wouldn't be? Hermione snuck a glance at Harry, and he shrugged, still visibly shaken. What choice did they have?

Hermione tugged on Ron's hand and the trio cautiously followed Madam Trelawney through the maze of books. The librarian hummed to herself, tapping and waving her wand occasionally. With each flick and swish, books straightened on the shelves, misplaced scrolls and tomes whisked back to their rightful place, and books left carelessly on the floor returned to where they belonged as she tsk'd in disappointment.

They turned down another aisle and the woman pointed to four books on the shelf of varying size and state of repair. One was entitled Treatise on the Horcrux. Hermione's eyes widened and she reached out for it immediately. Considering it was a taboo topic in England and Slughorn's reluctance to share that he had ever discussed the topic with Voldemort, she was shocked to see a book with the name of the very object they needed in the title.

Hermione turned to Maybus.

"Can we take these?"

The old librarian nodded. "You won't have time enough to read them here."

Harry took the other three and they stuffed all four books in Hermione's beaded bag.

"Madam Trelawny," Ron called in a high pitched voice, peering up at the old woman. This whole arrangement as a family was so odd.

The old woman gazed down at him over her hooked nose.

"Can you tell us what will happen? Will we win?"

Harry and Hermione tensed. It was an excellent question. She obviously wasn't a fraud and could see the future. She knew they were coming, and knew exactly what they needed.

"The future has not yet happened." The librarian stared down at him disapprovingly. "If I tell you what I know, you will not make the same choices and it will change."

Ron pouted at her answer, but she and Harry had certainly seen enough science fiction movies to accept her reply as the truth. Honestly, she had no desire to know the future.

"Thank you," Harry told Maybus, giving the shelves one last scan. She grunted at them and hobbled back to her desk.

Harry turned back to Hermione, his eyes travelling up and down her body, finally landing on her breasts again. "You're going to give Ron one hell of an Oedipus Complex."

She crossed her arms across her chest defensively. "Believe me, I'm not exactly enjoying being ogled by every male I walk past. Least of all you two. Now I know how Fleur feels."

"I didn't want to say anything in front of Krum," Ron said, "But your breasts are fantastic."

She shot him a withering glare. "Is there any reason you felt you could say that in front of me?"

"Well it's not really you now, is it? I'm just making a comment on a smoking hot woman."

She raised her eyebrow at him. "Careful now, I'll put you over my knee and spank you."

"I… uh… I think I'd like that."

Harry sniggered.

Hermione released her twenty-seventh exasperated sigh of the morning and they walked out of the library to see if Victor had returned.

Never again.

ooooooooooooooooooo

Draco walked with the entirety of Voldemort's army through the cold stone hallways of Azkaban. He had been here twice before to visit his father and the familiar feeling of soul-sucking despair returned quickly. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to live here for days, let alone months. Years.

No wonder his aunt was crazy. He could hear her cackles echoing down the corridor. No one else was speaking, let alone laughing. He watched Alecto and Amycus Carrow in step with Yaxley up ahead and slowed his pace to put more distance between himself and her. Although, with the atmosphere created by the Dementors, perhaps even she wouldn't be sick enough to try anything.

Draco backed into someone and turned around to see Pansy's dark brown eyes, wide and terrified. She was doing her best to project an unaffected visage, but the sheer number of Dementors was getting to her. She had never been to Azkaban before. He understood. It was a lot for someone to take in for the first time even under normal operations, and now there were no guards and the Dementors were flying around unrestrained.

Draco had never been so close to one before, let alone this many, even when visiting his father. Glancing surreptitiously around to make sure no one was paying attention, he reached out and took Pansy's hand. She peered up at him, blinked, and swallowed. They turned forward and continued walking down the cold white corridors of the prison.

Draco watched as the Dementors flocked to the Dark Lord and they both shivered each time one passed by. Pansy's small fingers gave his hand a gentle squeeze in thanks, and she walked slightly closer to him.

The Dark Lord wasn't affected by their shadowy presence in the slightest. Draco knew that he planned to use them, but he wasn't sure how. What he did know was that their visit here to Azkaban was a display of the Dark Lord's power and control. A reminder to everyone in his army that he could do what Death Eaters could not. That even Dementors were at his beck and call, making every single person in his army vulnerable.

It was a veiled threat.

Draco remembered hearing stories about Potter learning to cast a full corporeal Patronus a few years ago, and recalled when Granger had cast one in her bedroom.

She had used it to communicate with Potter without an owl. It had been fast and she hadn't used anything except her wand. Draco wondered if anyone in Voldemort's army could cast a corporeal Patronus like that. Not only were they at a considerable disadvantage in the face of Dementors if they couldn't, but Patronuses seemed like an extremely efficient method of communication for short missives. He had never seen anyone communicate via Patronus before and after thinking about it, was slightly appalled.

If one method of communication was superior to another, why not use it? Why rely on owls? He supposed the Dark Mark was a substitute of sorts, but that didn't allow Death Eaters to communicate among themselves instantaneously, and certainly not verbally.

Dementors were far more terrifying if you had no means of defense against them. If the Dark Lord was employing the Dementors to instill fear and prevent mutiny, being able to cast a Patronus would thwart those plans. And he was sacrificing efficient communication in the process.

The thought made Draco angry. He didn't like it when knowledge was kept from him, especially if the purpose was to keep him in line. He thought back to Granger calling him brainwashed. Certainly, there was a level of blind devotion to the Dark Lord amongst his followers. But Draco had seen through it. It may have taken some time, but he had figured out that serving the Dark Lord was folly. He wasn't the sort to simply go along without questioning why.

He wasn't brainwashed.

Clenching his jaw, he squeezed Pansy's hand tighter and continued on down the corridor.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

"It's an implant," Mary repeated to Hermione in irritation.

After returning from Durmstrang, Hermione had finally been able to follow up with Mary Cattermole regarding the problem with Veritaserum. Seeing as Cho was the one who had gotten her safely into hiding, and was a Ravenclaw like Mary, Hermione sent her to recruit the Healer to join the Order. Despite Hermione's hope, she had adamantly refused.

Mary was afraid, and didn't want to get involved in the fighting. However, when Cho explained that they were resorting to torture to get information and needed her help to understand the problem with Veritaserum, she relented with reluctance. Hermione recalled Mary's reaction to Malfoy being Crucio'd at her house. She was against torture for any reason. Prior to Hermione's discussion with Tonks and Remus, Hermione had been as well.

The war had changed her conception of right and wrong.

The two women stared down at Dolohov in his cell at Pinner safe house. He looked absolutely terrible; lying on the floor, not even his cot. His eyes were closed but he had dark bags from sleep deprivation, large bruises on his body and some dried blood on his neck. She didn't know how far Tonks had gone to get information out of him and she didn't want to know.

Hermione couldn't even picture Tonks torturing Dolohov, and she felt bile rise to her throat. Once again, she was grateful that interrogations were not her responsibility.

Mary had been hostile the moment she laid eyes on him.

"But I scanned him and Bixley before I brought them in," Hermione countered.

"It wouldn't be detected," she replied dismissively and removed her cloak, setting it atop a chair. "I'll need anti-bleeding paste, blood replenishing potions and a diagnostic serum to start." Mary pursed her lips and gave Hermione an irate look, dark eyes angry, greying hair coming out of her bun. "I don't approve of what you're doing."

"I know. None of us likes it," Hermione hoped that her shared feelings would reduce her hostility.

"And yet you're torturing them anyway," Mary pressed, glaring at her.

"If we can use Veritaserum, we won't have to."

She hoped that this project would keep Mary working for them as a Healer. They still didn't have one, couldn't afford an infirmary, and their medical supplies were sparse, consisting of what they managed to scavenge. Anything Mary would do with Dolohov and Bixley would have to be in their own containment cells at Pinner safe house. She didn't even know if they had the items Mary requested to start working now.

Relying on Madam Pomfrey was too risky to the staff at Hogwarts that were already working undercover. But Minerva had offered to bring supplies from Pomfrey just this once so Mary could get started. Too much pilfering of the Hogwarts infirmary would surely lead to questions and rouse suspicion.

Seeing how reluctant Mary had been to help them, Hermione had asked her if she knew someone else that would join them instead, but Mary flat out refused to give them any names, not wanting to endanger her colleagues. Despite the fact that the Order rescued her and her husband, she didn't trust them. Seeing the handiwork of Tonks' interrogation sessions wasn't helping.

If they had a Legilimens, none of this would be necessary. Hermione thought back to Malfoy's comment about having to learn Occlumency. Hermione discovered very quickly that learning Occlumency couldn't be done from books alone. She would need a mentor. What if…

She turned to Mary in a burst of inspiration.

"Mary," Hermione asked tentatively. She tore her eyes away from Dolohov as he groaned on the floor. "I know you don't want to work for us, but would you be willing to train someone?"

Mary released an exasperated sigh. "Being trained as a Healer requires four years of study and two years of rotation."

"We'll take what we can get," Hermione answered, hopeful since she hadn't flat out refused. "We're desperate."

"Clearly," was Mary's annoyed answer. "I told you. I don't want to be involved."

Hermione was beyond aggravated. Mary and her husband would be in prison if it weren't for the Order. Possibly dead. Any of them could have been injured or worse when they took Mary and Reginald into hiding. Time to play on her sympathies.

"If Cho had broken a bone getting you and Reginald out, she'd likely be crippled for life. We only know basic first aid, and don't have a Healer on staff, let alone someone familiar with dark curses. Cho was a Seeker for Ravenclaw, you know. If we couldn't heal her properly, she'd never play Quidditch again. And that's assuming she'd even live through this war."

Mary flared her nostrils at Hermione, even more angry that she was so obviously playing to her guilt and fondness of Cho.

"Fine," she spat back. Mary turned to Dolohov in thought and crossed her arms. "Get me two Portkeys that I can activate at any time to a location of my choice and I'll do it."

Portkeys.

Or lack thereof.

The bane of Hermione's existence. Being suddenly caught in an anti-Apparition ward was terrifying. Mary must have been shaken from the experience of not being able to leave her own home when it was invaded by Death Eaters. Hermione couldn't blame her. She was terrified of it happening at their safe houses.

"Alright, but that will take some time," Hermione promised, not knowing how she would get one, let alone two Portkeys.

It was time to take matters into her own hands.

oooooooooooooo

Minerva entered the Tonks' kitchen levitating two stacks of books of varying colors and thicknesses. Kingsley, Remus and Tonks eyed the stacks in curiosity and Hermione stood up, giddy with excitement.

Finally!

They all watched, amused, as Hermione practically skipped to the kitchen door and eagerly grabbed a few books off the stacks as Minerva carefully lowered them to the table. It was almost like being in school again. Her ex-Professor gazed down at her as she flipped through one of the books.

"These are the references Madame Pince recommended for you. I suggest you make copies as soon as possible so I can return them. We don't want the wrong person to notice that all books regarding Portkeys are missing." Hermione gave a non-committal sound, indicating that she heard, and continued paging through the book.

"Hasn't changed a bit, has she?" Remus quipped.

Hermione shot him a glare and Tonks sniggered.

"Thankfully, she hasn't," Minerva replied fondly, generating a smile from Hermione. "I applaud your initiative Miss Granger and I don't doubt you'll master the needed Arithmancy. But you'll still have a difficult time acquiring the potions ingredients necessary for Portkey creation. They're rare and expensive. We simply don't have the funds."

"Well…" Hermione shifted on her feet nervously. "I wasn't planning on purchasing them."

Minerva's eyebrows rose to her forehead.

After the conversation about torture, Hermione didn't think Remus and Tonks would disapprove of her plans for larceny. And she had a feeling Kingsley wouldn't care either. She eyed him. He looked impressed, actually.

But Hermione wondered what her strict, rule abiding professor would think. The Order was essentially an underground guerilla operation. Known members would be arrested on site. They couldn't hold jobs and were subsisting on everyone's savings until Kingsley could come through with a reliable funding source.

How else could they get expensive, necessary supplies if not through illegal means? Hermione looked at her teacher anxiously. After a moment of surprised silence, Minerva spoke.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that." She said with a small smile. "Perhaps Horace will know where to begin your search."

Hermione sighed in relief. They were one safe house raid away from complete destruction. And Portkeys took time to make. She didn't want to wait for a funding source to fall into place before they started buying them on the black market or working with sympathetic Ministry officials in the Portkey Division. It wasn't something that could be put off, but the Order didn't have the resources to devote to them.

So… Desperate times, desperate measures.

No one else had the bandwidth to prioritize Portkeys, so Hermione would have to make time. And she'd have to break the law in order to do so. To be honest, it wasn't the first time she engaged in illegal activities.

It was for a good cause. Totally justifiable.

"Thanks for your help," she smiled at Minerva gratefully. "I may need the Arithmancy looked over. Do you think Professor Vector-"

Minerva shook her head. "No, Septima has no love for the Carrows but she can't be trusted with anything having to do with the Order. I've heard one to many suspicious comments from her in the faculty lounge to risk it. If you need help, I'll take a look. She's not the only one capable in Arithmancy you know." She pushed her spectacles higher up on her nose. "Where are you going to brew?"

That was a good question. But Hermione didn't even have the ingredients yet. Potion brewing was a problem for another day.

"One thing at a time."

Remus nodded approvingly at her and glanced down at his notes. "The first topic for tonight: Hogwarts students?"

Minerva turned to him, she had been receiving worried Floo calls from parents over the past few weeks since Hogwarts opened.

"Yes," she replied. "The Carrows and Snape grow more and more powerful and are beginning to use Unforgivable Curses on students in detention. They are also teaching older students to cast them and there is only so much the faculty can do. I'd send the students home, but their parents think Hogwarts is safer. I am at a loss."

"Are there any students in particular that are targeted more than others?" Remus asked.

"Of course," Minerva confirmed. "Ginerva Weasley for one. It's known her family is part of the Order."

Hermione's stomach lurched. Unforgiveable Curses were being used on Ginny? Who else was suffering at Hogwarts?

"Luna Lovegood," Minerva continued. "Her father has been printing anti-Ministry articles in the Quibbler. And some of the older students who refuse to curse younger students and are targeted in turn."

"So, they have three options," Remus said, shuffling his notes. "Stay at Hogwarts, go home, or if they are of age, come fight for the Order. Of the sixth and seventh years, you'll need to figure out who wants to fight without giving yourself away."

Minerva nodded and Hermione grimaced at the thought of their already cramped living space becoming even more crowded. Much as she would love to see more of her former classmates join them, waiting over two hours to shower after combat training had gotten old quickly.

They needed more safe houses.

They needed more Galleons.

They needed Portkeys.

Hermione sighed.

"There will be a new set of names added to the Undesirable List in two weeks," Kingsley commented. "Students with parents on that list will undoubtedly be targeted and should go into hiding with their families."

"When can you find out the names?" Minerva asked.

"In a week," Kingsley replied. "But if the students trickle out one by one, the Ministry will get suspicious. You'll put yourself and other faculty at risk and have trouble getting the rest of the children out under the increased scrutiny. I suggest evacuating those that want to leave all at once with the Order's help. Then we can help families that choose to go into hiding do so."

Tonks flipped through a barrage bright colors in her hair while she stared at the ceiling in thought. After settling on green she brought her gaze down and spoke. "So we need to evacuate everyone within two weeks." She turned to Minerva. "Can you buy us time?"

Her teacher nodded. "During a Quidditch game would be best. The entire faculty attends. Some missing students may not be noticed while everyone is distracted. I'd assume two hours."

Hermione, remembering Tonks' discussion on Muggle military communications devices, had made everyone in the Order their own D.A. Galleon for communication during raids and other operations. She brought them to the meeting intending to make a demonstration but quickly saw her timing was fortuitous. The Galleons would be perfect for communicating at Hogwarts. She had about twenty-five of them now and took the five she brought out of her pocket, placing them on the table.

"Collecting funds for Portkeys?" Tonks teased her. "You've got some ways to go."

Hermione scowled but Minerva had a knowing smile. She knew all about D.A. Galleons.

"We used these in fifth year to communicate without anyone knowing. I made one for every member of the Order, we can use them during missions for instant communication. I think they'll be especially helpful at Hogwarts. That place is a maze."

Everyone took a Galleon and flipped it over in interest.

Hermione thumbed hers.

Tonks is an arse.

They all laughed at the appearance of the message on their Galleons.

"Clever, Hermione," Tonks said with a smile. "Very clever."

oooooooooooooooooooooo

"Can you see?" Hermione looked back at him over her shoulder, covering her breasts with a jumper, but the curve of her arse and back was on full display for him. Her hair hung down loosely between her shoulder blades.

"No," he lied.

"You're smirking."

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, bit his fist and rolled over onto his side. He couldn't stop thinking about Granger. Night after night the fucking bitch wouldn't go away. He was so hard it hurt and he couldn't get the naked images of her out of his head. She was forbidden, which made her that much more tantalizing. Inasmuch as she was Potter's sidekick, Undesirable Number Two, a known member of the Order, but also a Mudblood. Everything he shouldn't want. He wasn't supposed to react to her this way.

It was one thing to make her feel uncomfortable and taunt her, to appreciate a breast, arse and pair of legs, it was quite another to obsess over what he would do with that breast, arse and pair of legs. The more he tried to repress the way she had swiveled her upper body towards him, entire backside visible, the more he desired her.

He was weak.

Nighttime was the worst. Draco already had a cold shower tonight and it only worked temporarily. He took a pillow and pressed it between his legs, gritting his teeth. He tried to remember what being with Pansy felt like. Heavy, desperate snogging sessions in hidden alcoves, awkwardly losing his virginity while terrified they'd get caught after curfew, her mouth on his cock, dark eyes gazing knowingly up at him. It wasn't working. He tried to think of Blaise's mother: voluptuous and sensual, whispering into his ear while remaining just out of reach.

But Granger's breast and backside kept returning.

"I'm a Malfoy. I smirk."

He was a Malfoy. And Malfoys didn't roll in the mud. Draco was better than this. He could trace his ancestry back twenty-three generations. All of them Pure-bloods. His father would never approve of this shit.

He pressed the pillow against himself harder. It wasn't providing any relief. He rubbed the pillow against himself and grunted a whine.

Finally giving in, Draco reached down under the waistline of his boxers and cupped himself with an agonized groan. He shuddered and whimpered while tentatively touching himself. It didn't matter. It was just a wank and he'd get her out of his system. Denying himself was only making the fantasies worse. Just a wank, no one would know except him. He wasn't really dirtying himself. He wasn't really touching her. Or kissing her. Or grabbing that arse as she wrapped her legs around him.

He fisted himself and moaned loudly.

Or palming her breast. Or thrusting into her.

He licked his palm and reached down, stroking in earnest, rubbing the tip, smearing the pre-come down and over his shaft. His breathing was labored while his hand worked himself towards a swift and powerful climax.

"Can you see, Draco?"

His hand slid up and down, squeezing himself. His body trembled and he bit his lip, pushing his chin towards the ceiling as he came over his torso.

Fuck.

Chapter end notes:

Another OG - in Gravidy's Gods of the Lost, the chink in Draco's bigotry begins when he first sees Hermione naked. He realizes she's attractive, hates himself for wanking to her, and does it anyway.