Chapter 39
April 1998
Hermione gripped the edge of her parents' kitchen table as she deflected the mental assault and showed memories of a snowball fight with Harry and Ron. Everything pertaining to Draco and the Horcruxes was safely locked away, as was the location of her parents, some Order plans and Kingsley's involvement. For all intents and purposes, there was no way to know that those memories were concealed in her mental library, let alone that they even existed. Her mentor slid by her memories and she deftly lay others exposed for perusal, shifting the piles of books and laying herself bare. Seemingly exposed, but tightly guarded. There wasn't even a hint that she was hiding anything.
After a while the search stopped, and her mentor laid back with a satisfied smile across her red lips and Hermione exhaled a breath in relief. These lessons always left her knackered.
"Well done. You've mastered Occlumency." The older witch tapped her chin with a red painted nail and peered at Hermione in thought.
After all these sessions, this unknown woman knew Hermione better than she knew herself. She witnessed her fears, her sorrows, her worries and the happiest moments in her life. In the beginning, Hermione would frequently leave her lessons a quivering mess of tears. But now that she had grasped the ability to mask and even repress her emotions, fatigue was the only after effect.
"You're completely exhausted," she observed, twisting a gold ring on her finger.
"I am," Hermione agreed.
"Perfect." She raised an eyebrow.
Without warning, her mentor extracted the memory of Hermione watching herself disappear from the photographs in her house. She knew it was one of Hermione's saddest memories, if not the saddest one, and went right to where she knew the location of her parents' and their new identities were hidden. Hermione retained a physically impassive exterior although a despairing sadness persisted within her which she had no doubt her mentor could feel. After a few moments of holding out, her teacher broke through and reached her parents' new names and location.
Hermione's face fell. She failed when it came down to masking and controlling her emotions.
Again.
"To be fair," the older woman said, "I knew exactly where to look and what to look for because I've already found those memories in the past. I don't think someone else would have been able to."
"Really?" The hope was palpable in Hermione's voice.
"Really," her mentor assured her. "But war is not fair. We'll try again next time, but with external pressures. You're ready for that now."
Hermione's eyes widened in fear, remembering how Draco had tested her ability to lie and mask her emotions. "What kind of external pressures?"
"Pain," she answered casually. "But I think you can handle it. Maybe two or three more lessons and we should be done."
Hermione choked, recalling Draco's comment regarding how an interrogation would really take place.
Torture.
"You're going to Crucio me?" she asked in horror.
The woman looked offended and she brushed a lock of shiny black hair behind her shoulders. "Of course not. I've spent so much time in your head it would almost be like trying to Crucio my own flesh and blood. I wouldn't be able to."
"Oh," Hermione replied, much relieved, but still wary about what kind of pain would be inflicted on her. And then she felt a surge of warmth for this mysterious woman who had just admitted that she cared for her.
Even if she was somewhat terrifying.
Very terrifying.
"Hermione." The woman's voice was low.
"Yes?" Hermione felt a rush of adrenaline.
Her teacher had never spoken her name before. She wanted their meetings to remain as anonymous as possible. However, even though the older witch told Hermione not to introduce herself, she would know her identity after being so long in her head. She would have known who Hermione was after being in the same room with her for less than a minute. Hermione knew exactly how good a Legilimens her teacher was.
The woman rested her chin in her hand and studied her for a few moments. Hermione had spent many hours having those sultry, light brown eyes bore into hers. Her penetrating gaze was as unsettling now as it was the day of her first lesson.
"I think you're correct. Harry Potter is an accidental Horcrux and needs to be killed after you destroy the cup, the diadem and Nagini. Preferably by You-Know-Who himself. Oftentimes there is a symmetry to magic."
Hermione felt like she had been whacked up the side of the head with a sledgehammer. Her mentor never discussed her memories. And of all memories to discuss, she chose the day Hermione read Fractured Souls. She had been hoping that she was mistaken in her research, but had no one to discuss her theories with.
"I'm sorry," her mentor continued, genuinely. "I know what he means to you."
A tear fell from Hermione's eye and she wiped it away with a sniffle. "Thank you, I didn't have anyone to talk about that with."
Her mentor kept staring at her. "You need help locating the Horcruxes and don't have anyone to ask about that either. Sometimes I wonder what Dumbledore was thinking, entrusting the three of you with such a critical task and no one to help."
Hermione had thought about that too. But now someone knew. They weren't alone.
"Are you going to help us?"
Hermione still had no idea who this woman was or what she did when she wasn't reading minds, but it was heartening to have an older and more experienced person than she, Harry and Ron, that was aware of their mission, and could advise them appropriately.
"I will. But I was going to suggest someone else. Someone who is deeper on the inside than I am."
"Who?" Hermione asked, curious as to the identity of the person.
"Draco."
Hermione sat back. "Draco? But I can't trust–"
"I understand his conflict between giving you information and endangering his parents, but you can trust him with this." She sat back and watched Hermione process the information. "Aside from that, he is a much better Occlumens than you are. Perhaps as good as Severus. No one will be able to pry the information out of him. Not even me."
Hermione blinked. She was dying to know who her mentor was.
"How do you know all this?"
Her teacher smirked. "I told you before, I'm good with secrets."
ooooooooooooooooo
Draco studied the picture of the Hufflepuff cup in the books describing artifacts of the Four Founders of Hogwarts. Hermione sat next to him on her bed while he scrutinized the details of the ancient goblet. His long fingers curled under the page in thought and Hermione watched the motion.
She couldn't stop thinking about the way he looked at her that morning in her parents' guest room. Recalling how it felt to be cradled against him with his arms and legs wrapped around her body, she shivered. Sitting down next to him on the bed was a mistake. Their thighs and the skin of their upper arms were touching and she felt like her whole body was heating up while he gazed at the book in thought, racking his memory. The ache between her legs wouldn't go away. She should return to her desk chair. They were too physically close.
"And you need this why?"
"I can't tell you."
He stared at the picture of the cup for a few moments longer, pushing his tongue into his cheek in thought. Her eyes flicked up to the side of his face. His brows were furrowed in concentration and some blond hair fell forward, blocking her view. He ran a hand through his hair and it flopped right back down in front of his eyes. She wanted to run her hands through it, remembering how soft it was when he was sobbing against her chest.
After a few more seconds he sighed in frustration. "You're not giving me much to work with, Hermione. If I knew something about its purpose, I might be able to figure out where it would be."
She glanced to the side, considering what she could tell him. "It's important to You-Know-Who. More important than anything or anyone. More important than the war even. He wouldn't want anybody to know about it and would need a safe place to keep it. Someplace permanent, from before the First Wizarding War. That's all I can say."
"Someone's vault then," Draco answered with a shrug, as if it were obvious. "He doesn't have his own."
"Well," Hermione explained. "That might be so, but the other objects we've found weren't hidden in vaults."
"Where were they?" he asked, curious.
She thought back to her Legilimency mentor. If anyone would know whether or not Draco could be trusted, it would be her. Someone who had been privy to his thoughts and feelings at some point. With a start she realized she was… jealous of her mentor. That the older woman would know and understand Draco more intimately than Hermione did, and she shoved those feelings to the side. Finding the Horcruxes was more important, and Hermione, Draco's handler, couldn't get romantically involved with her spy.
"One was with your father." Draco's eyebrows rose at this news. "It was a diary," Hermione continued. "It could have been in your vault, we don't know. But considering what your father did with it during second year, it probably wasn't. Another object was hidden in the Gaunt's old house, just among the ruins. One was hidden in a place he would go to as a child when he stayed in the Muggle orphanage. However, there were traps set in place to guard it." She looked up at him. His face was too close to hers and she turned her head to talk to the open book page. "We think one may be at Hogwarts, and maybe another with someone else he trusted implicitly. Like he trusted your father."
Draco scoffed. "I don't know how much he trusts my father anymore. We're always a hair's breadth away from being killed."
"So you don't know where this might be kept?"
He shook his head. "If you want to keep something safe you lock it in a vault in Gringotts. I can check ours."
He leaned forward to squint at the details of the cup and the warm skin of his arm brushed against hers. His forearm hair was soft and tickled. She tucked her hands between her legs, wondering if moving away from him would just bring attention to the fact that they were sitting so close to each other, and make the tension worse.
"That would be helpful but I doubt he'd entrust your father with two of these."
"If you think it's with someone he would trust, it would either be Aunt Bella or…" he paused, considering his answer. "Probably Aunt Bella."
They needed to talk about honesty and him holding back on her, but Hermione was making progress and didn't want to derail it right now. She reached across him, her fingers grazing his wrist, and flipped the pages until she reached the picture of Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem.
"What about this one?" she asked.
Draco's eyes suddenly widened.
"You've seen this?" Her voice rose in excitement.
"Yes," he said, amazed at recognizing something the Order needed so badly. "It's in the Room of Hidden Things. I…" He paused and cleared his throat. "I spent a lot of time there in sixth year." The silence became awkward as they both remembered the night he allowed Death Eaters into the castle.
"Draco," Hermione said softly. "What you're doing now, it changes things. It changes you. You've already changed."
He swallowed and didn't answer immediately. "I know. But I'm still doing…" He took a deep breath and started again. "There are things that... that I don't know how not to do. I can't pose as a Death Eater without actually being a Death Eater."
Without thinking, she threaded her fingers through his to show him that she understood and that she cared. Hermione couldn't imagine how she would deal with the ethical quandaries presented to him. He squeezed her hand back and rubbed the underside of her wrist with his thumb. She saw his Adam's apple move while still staring at the book. Not wanting him to break down again, she returned to his discovery.
"Alright," she said, encouraged by his discovery. They identified a Horcrux and its location. Her Legilimency mentor was absolutely right. She, Harry and Ron needed to get out of their bubble if they wanted to find and destroy the remaining Horcruxes. "So I'll go to Hogwarts and–"
"No," Draco cut her off, turning towards her. "Don't put yourself in danger. I can make an excuse to go without raising suspicion. I'll get it for you."
She glanced up at him in surprise at the protective tenor of his voice. But she shouldn't have. Draco was already facing her. Hermione was already too close to him, sitting on her bed together and holding his hand. Her lips parted at the desire in his grey eyes and that was all the encouragement he needed.
Before she could voice a protest his mouth was on hers, muffling her whimper. She heard the book thud to the floor, forgotten, and his fingers splayed across the side of her neck and up her jaw. Shuddering, he inhaled through his nose as his lips molded to hers. The heat and desire coursing throughout her body was immediate. It was so unlike kissing Ron. She could hear and feel Draco's want for her like it was a corporeal entity in and of itself, ready to consume them both. She opened her mouth wider and his tongue instantly slid inside, swiping her teeth, reaching out, hungry for contact. He moaned and the sound vibrated all the way down to her core.
Draco leaned into her, his hard body forcing her down onto the mattress. His hand released hers, immediately moving to her waist and sliding under the fabric of her shirt. She gasped into his hot mouth and he pressed his fingers into her midriff and her ribs. The warm ache between her legs became a fiery demand as he shifted his position without breaking their kiss. His nose rubbed against the side of hers as he devoured her mouth from different angles. Hermione whimpered and he crawled on top of her, briefly abandoning her torso to lift her legs to the bed and settling his body atop hers.
It was all so fast, and she could barely process what he was doing through the muddled haze of lust. They had been dancing around the tension between them and now it exploded. Hermione inhaled through her nose and cupped his face, feeling his jaw move as he swallowed her mouth. She tried to lift his face up so she could stop things before they went any further, but Draco was so intent on deepening the kiss that he didn't notice. He broke off the kiss and moved his lips down to the side of her throat that his fingers weren't holding, and slie his thigh in between her legs.
Hermione arched her back and moaned at the jolt of pleasure when his thigh made contact at her juncture and at the sensations his lips and tongue made on her neck. His pelvis rocked into her hips and she felt how hard he was. He rubbed himself on her and moaned into her neck.
It had to stop.
She would be replaced if it continued, and whoever replaced her would just pump him for information. The Order would use him like a tool – just like Voldemort was. They wouldn't care like she did, they wouldn't advocate for his pardon. They wouldn't be his friend when he needed, and wouldn't hold and comfort him while he struggled. And if she was replaced, Tonks wouldn't let her see him anymore, would she? Hermione would only complicate the relationship with the new handler. Maybe they'd lose him completely as a spy. She couldn't let that happen.
"Draco," she called his name breathlessly while he groaned into her neck, his body slowly shifting and rubbing and writhing on top of hers. "Draco, stop. We can't."
He lifted his head from her throat and gazed down at her, breath ragged. His face was flushed and his grey eyes dark with longing.
"Why?" His whisper was low and husky and his lips brushed against hers.
Hermione felt the tension within him. He was struggling to hold himself still. If she so much as breathed too heavily his mouth would be on hers and that would be it. There would be no stages of petting and touching and pushing past limits; it was all or nothing. She knew she would give herself to him if they continued kissing.
She desperately wanted to, she had never felt a desire so overwhelming before.
"They'll replace me with someone else. If I… If we…" She couldn't form words with him looking at her like that. As if he would ravage her at any moment if she wasn't careful. "If I can't be objective."
Hermione wondered if she had lost that ability already. If it was too late. It wasn't just lust she felt towards him. She knew that, and Tonks would see right through her. She never Occluded at Order meetings, and she shouldn't. She needed Tonks' guidance.
Draco's hooded eyes gazed down at her silently and the corner of his mouth quirked upwards. He shifted his stare to her lips and back to her eyes again. He was probably wondering whether she had already lost her objectivity as well. His fingers were still under her shirt, gingerly rubbing the lines of her ribs. She squeezed her thighs together around his leg to ease the ache.
His thumb caressed back and forth across the bones of her cheek and jaw. "How can I keep you?"
"Keep me?" she repeated, her heart twisted in her chest at the possessiveness of his words.
He nodded slowly while his fingers trailed along her ribs. So close to her breast. She didn't want to manipulate his emotions in this way but he had all but told her to do so.
The hard length of him pressed into her leg and twitched. It was so close to where she wanted it to be, between her legs. Inside her. She fingered the fabric of his shirt over his shoulders.
"Tell me what's going on." She had to clear her throat to continue speaking. "Tell me why you're holding back."
Draco studied her expression and licked his lips.
"Because some information would lead to the death or torture of myself or my parents."
She knew that already.
His fingers splayed along her midriff and his thumb inched closer her breast, stroking the skin underneath her shirt. He could slip his fingers underneath her bra so easily. Push the fabric up. Press. Grope. Stroke. She wanted him to, she wanted him to touch her everywhere. She was afraid she'd combust for want of his hands on her body.
Draco's grey eyes studied her. Waiting. Just waiting for the slightest signal that she would give in. Hermione was afraid to move.
"Can you…" she could barely breathe with him staring at her like that. Laying atop her. "Instead of telling me that you don't know, tell me that instead. For that reason. There's a difference and I need you to be honest with me."
His thumb moved back and forth below her breast. Tingles of pleasure spread out from his touch, down through her core. She bit back a moan. His thumb was so close. And closer. It grazed the fabric of her bra and she shivered.
"Alright."
Draco shifted his weight and his thigh moved slightly against her crotch. She flushed and inhaled sharply at the contact. The tip of his tongue appeared between his lips as he watched her.
"Just now. There was someone else that you were about to say You-Know-Who trusted besides Bellatrix."
He studied her, considering how to answer. Hermione didn't know if he was going to lie to her or not.
"I don't want to betray them."
Draco's fingers increased their pressure on her skin. She struggled not to move. Not to react. But she couldn't. His thumb rubbed the soft flesh over the fabric of her bra and she bit her lip, nearly whimpering.
Hermione composed herself and spoke. "But this person is not your mother or your father."
He continued rubbing the skin around her ribs, back and forth. Achingly close to her breast. His other hand cradled her jaw.
"No," he spoke in a low, soft voice.
Draco's face was right above hers, his lips only centimeters away. She had been breathing so shallowly during their conversation because he was laying on top of her. She was afraid to make any sudden movements for fear of what they might result in. But she needed to breathe. She inhaled deeply and her breasts pushed up against his chest causing his fingers to slide along her skin with the movement.
His fingers tensed, and trembled slightly. He wasn't removing them, but he wasn't pushing past the boundaries she set either. Then his fingers slid closer to her breast again when she exhaled, perhaps wondering when she would stop him.
"You know where You-Know-Who is but you won't tell me. You don't need to find out, you already know."
The hand cupping her jaw slide up to play with her curls near her temple. Hermione kept her hands on his shoulders. Struggling with the need to feel his body and draw him into her, and the knowledge that she had to push him away.
"That's right," he whispered.
She resumed with her questions, his fingers still splayed on her midriff. They could slide up towards her breast where his thumb had teased, or travel downward under the waist of her trousers, reaching between her legs. But they stayed, stroking, pressing, leaving hot trails and taunting her with possibility.
"You knew where Luna and Ollivander were before they were killed with the rest of the prisoners. But you didn't tell me."
Draco sucked in a breath, he seemed conflicted about her statement, probably because he had participated in their murder. He studied her expression, and while she waited for him to answer, he shifted his hips with a sigh. "Yes."
"The bill that you're trying to pass with the Wizengamot. You really don't know what it's for?"
He answered more quickly this time, and rested his fingers across her forehead. "I've tried to figure it out. I don't know and I can't ask."
She bit her lip and his eyes watched her mouth. "Have you heard anything about Brockton Bridge and Wembley Stadium?"
His gaze snapped back up to hers. "Where are they?"
"London."
His body was so hot, hard and heavy atop her.
"I haven't heard anything, but I'll let you know if I do." His answer seemed genuine.
"The Inner Circle," Hermione continued. His pelvis rocked into her thigh ever so slightly and she swallowed her moan before it left her throat. His cock was against her hip under the fabric of his trousers. She wanted to know what it would feel like inside her. "You only gave me some names, but you know more."
He shifted his weight again over her, his thigh rubbing the juncture between her legs again. Seemingly unable to stop himself, he made slow little rocking motions against her hip, rubbing himself against her and his eyes fluttered closed. She didn't know if he was doing it intentionally or unintentionally but the friction at her juncture was driving her mad. He opened his eyes again.
"I can't give you everyone. Depending on how the Order uses that information, it could lead back to me. Or my parents."
"So why did you give me the ones you did?"
Draco furrowed his brow, struggling with his answer. His hand went slack, and stopped teasing her skin. He seemed to deflate, and just like that, the tension between them was gone. Curious, Hermione wondered why this was so difficult for him. Was he afraid she'd think less of him?
"The Lestranges you already knew."
He paused. Unsure how to continue. She held her breath, waiting.
"Rowle was raping Pansy."
"Oh my god," she said softly. Tonks was absolutely right. He was protecting those closest to him.
"Nott senior has been beating Theo for as long as I can remember."
She watched him, fascinated.
"MacNair was after my mother. He's been looking for an excuse to get rid of my father. And me. Dolohov hated me, you already know that. He resented that my father never went to Azkaban after the First Wizarding War with him and took his anger out on me. After everything that happened in the Department of Mysteries, I was an easy target."
She swallowed. "And that's why you told me about the Veritaserum? So we'd have to torture him?"
"Yes."
He stopped and peered down at her. Unwilling to continue.
"What about the Carrows?" she prodded him.
"She…" Draco's mouth flattened into a line while shame and revulsion darkened his features.
Something crumpled inside Hermione as she realized what he was about to say. There was so much physical and sexual assault within Voldemort's army. She simply couldn't understand why people would willingly subject themselves to this treatment, or allow their children to join, no matter what their beliefs on blood purity.
Draco pushed himself off of her and her body felt cold from his absence. He sat up and silently stared at the floor while she pulled herself up, sitting cross-legged next to him.
"She's done things to you?" Hermione asked tentatively.
He didn't answer and hung his head. His blond hair fell forward, hiding his expression, but his silence was confirmation enough.
"But you never gave us the plans to her estate."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Someone figured out I was behind the disappearances. I had to stop."
Draco had used the Order to protect those he loved. But he had ensured the safety of everyone else first, saving his own predator for last. And now he couldn't get rid of her. Hermione put a comforting hand on his thigh but he didn't react.
"Why didn't that person turn you in?"
He glanced at her. "I'm not sure, actually."
"And you won't tell me who this is."
He shook his head silently. Of course not. She understood him. He was loyal to those he loved; to those who went out of their way for him.
"Is this the other person You-Know-Who trusts implicitly?" He didn't want to tell her the name. It must be the same person.
"Hermione," he said, his voice hardening into a warning.
"Is it Snape?" She pressed on.
It must be.
Snape had killed Dumbledore, who was the only wizard that You-Know-Who was afraid of. He had pretended to be a spy all these years and then delivered the death blow to the Order when it mattered. Those actions would have raised him greatly in Voldemort's esteem, making him one of the few that Voldemort would trust so implicitly. But Snape had also protected Draco. He killed Dumbledore when Draco could not, and ensured he could leave the castle safely, avoiding the fall out.
"Stop it," he ground out. Angry that Hermione had figured it out.
It was Snape. He was protecting his parents, his friends, and Snape. And then Snape figured out Draco was using the Order to take out Inner Circle members and didn't turn him in. It made perfect sense, and Draco wouldn't want the Order anywhere near him.
But why would Snape not turn in a spy?
"Alright," she whispered.
Completely stunned, her thoughts returned to the bomb he just dropped.
Alecto Carrow had been sexually assaulting him this whole time. Hermione didn't know what to do. She couldn't help him.
"Will that be enough?" Draco asked, turning his head slightly towards her. He sounded exhausted from his confession.
"Enough for what?" Hermione didn't know what to offer him right now and felt absolutely terrible. The Order was using him. She was using him. He was being abused and she was using him.
"To keep you."
The beginnings of tears formed in her eyes and she willed them away. Reaching out, she placed her hand on his forearm, her fingers curled around gently pressing into his skin.
"I don't know," she replied, and he stared at her.
She had a feeling that it was too late with Tonks, and that nothing would ever be enough for Kingsley. So many emotions were playing across his grey eyes, she couldn't identify any of them. She spoke again, her voice trembling. "You protected everyone else first."
Draco didn't answer, wordlessly returning his morose gaze to the floor. She couldn't imagine all the horrors he was facing while serving in Voldemort's Army, but he was giving her a glimpse.
"Can you stay with me for a while?"
Hermione knew that sex was the last thing on his mind right now. He simply didn't want to be alone after telling her about the terrible things he dealt with while serving in Voldemort's army. He wanted comfort. That was something she could give, and she desperately wanted to. She felt so guilty for how the Order was using him.
"Yes, of course."
She leaned back down on the bed and drew him towards her, cradling his head in the nape of her neck. He tightened his arms around her, and sighed against her skin.
oooooooooooooooooooo
"You're falling for him."
It wasn't a question because Tonks already knew the answer. She should have known this was coming. Kingsley had also hinted as much during their last leadership meeting.
Her gaze pinned Hermione to the kitchen chair and she broke under it, staring down at the ridges of the table. Tonks didn't need Legilimency for most interrogations. She knew how to zero in on what she wanted.
Hermione took a deep shuddering breath and exhaled slowly. "Yes."
It didn't matter that she had prevented anything sexual from happening last night. As Tonks had told her before, you can't help what you feel. Either it is or it isn't. And she was falling for Draco Malfoy. Maybe she already had.
How could she not?
Tonks voice held steady, delivering to Hermione the inevitable consequences. "You know what this means."
Tonks would replace her.
Hermione wouldn't be objective. Her judgement wouldn't be sound. There would be difficult decisions to make and she might prioritize him instead of the Order. She already felt terribly for stringing him along with the promise of a pardon for his father that would never come. And she had no idea if Kingsley would even give one to Draco. She was betraying him deeply, hurting him on purpose even with everything he was putting himself through.
And he was being sexually assaulted on top of everything.
Could she continue to betray him like this for the sake of the Order? She didn't know. Much as she hated to admit it, and didn't want to be replaced, and didn't want to abandon Draco, Tonks was right to remove her. Hermione couldn't blame her for doing her job. In Tonks' position, she would have done the same.
Except for one thing.
Hermione raised her eyes to Tonks'. They were dark blue today. "But you can't."
"Oh?" Tonks face hardened in anger.
She didn't mean for her words to come out like a command, but they did. While she had a literal and figurative seat at the table with the senior Order leadership and they frequently made use of her ideas, she was considerably younger than them, and had far less experience. Hermione had never spoken that way to Tonks before. Even more so when she was out of her area of expertise, which included being Draco's handler. Dealing with spies was what Tonks had experience in.
She steeled herself and explained with a note of contrition in her voice. Hoping that her genuine regret would ease Tonks' irritation.
"Because he's helping me, Ron and Harry now with our mission."
Tonks leaned forward slightly, studying her as Hermione would a complex Arithmancy problem. She narrowed her eyes.
"That's awfully convenient, Hermione," Tonks finally spoke.
"I know what it looks like," Hermione admitted, somewhat insulted that Tonks took her for some flighty lovesick fool that would endanger them all just for the chance to see her boyfriend. "But the suggestion was made by my Occlumency mentor." Tonks face twisted at the memory of Kingsley not helping her when she needed. "My mentor knew we were struggling with the mission, that we were stuck. And… my mentor was right. He's helped already."
Tonks was still furious with Kingsley after all this time. Hermione would be as well. If she had been cornered into the position of having to torture only to find out there was another option available, she'd still harbor resentment.
On the other hand, she understood Kingsley's reasoning. Not relying on a Legilimens forced them to find a solution to the Veritaserum and led to the discovery of the implant.
There were no good decisions to be made at their level. Someone would always suffer from the lesser of the two evils.
Andromeda entered the kitchen holding a crying baby Teddy. "I'm sorry to interrupt but I think he wants to be nursed, Dora. Should I come back?"
"No, it's fine." Tonks stood up, giving Andromeda a bright smile, took Teddy from her mother and sat back down, glaring icily at Hermione. "Thanks, mum," she called back in a voice far too cheery for the unwavering angry gaze focused on Hermione.
Hufflepuffs.
Hermione waited while Tonks situated herself, levitating a blanket over her shoulder and the baby for privacy. She spoke a few motherly words, pacifying him while his cries quickly turned into contented suckling sounds.
Tonks glared at Hermione again.
"And how would your mentor know that you could trust Draco with something you don't even trust us with?" She spat the word 'mentor' as if it were something dirty and continued her interrogation without missing a beat. Nursing her son hadn't deterred her in the slightest.
Hermione raised her gaze from the blanket to Tonks. She was hurt that she didn't know what the Trio was up to. Hermione remembered Remus telling her to Obliviate him after he accidentally saw their work on Horcruxes. She wondered if he was angry about it now that he didn't know. McGonagall had simply accepted the fact that Dumbledore wanted it to remain a secret.
Who was her mentor? How did Kingsley know her? And how did she know Draco well enough to be so sure he could be trusted with something like this? Hermione had taken a leap of faith in learning Occlumency from her at Kingsley's behest, and she had taken a leap of faith in trusting Draco with part of the knowledge of their mission.
Everything seemed to work out, but Hermione didn't like unanswered questions.
Kingsley…
She wondered if her mentor shared the details of their lessons with Kingsley or if she kept them a secret as implied. Maybe Kingsley had even discussed trusting Draco with the Horcruxes with her mentor. In which case, Kingsley knew he could be trusted and was acting upon it.
He probably was. Kingsley valued information more highly than any other commodity and her mentor was a living, breathing gold mine.
A fury at the injustice of being lied to bubbled within her. The more she thought Kingsley, the angrier she got. No wonder Tonks was still bitter. He had played both of them. And Draco.
And what of Draco?
She brought her focus back on Tonks' question.
How did her mentor know that Draco could be trusted?
Hermione had thought about that question ever since her mentor first suggested it, but came up with nothing. She was no more knowledgeable now about her mentor's identity than she had been when she first met her. She lifted her gaze to Tonks.
"I honestly don't know."
Chapter end notes:
Let's hear it for multitasking while nursing.
Next up - Draco goes to Hogwarts.