Floorcoaster wrote this chapter.
They landed in a dark room that felt large, the pop of their arrival echoing off the walls, but before Hermione could even blink, Draco sprang into action. Their hands were still clasping the Portkey when Draco grabbed Theo's arm, wrested his wand away, and pointed it at him.
It happened too quickly; Theo didn't have time to resist.
"Malfoy!" Hermione exclaimed, stunned. "What are you doing?"
"Taking some control of this situation, Granger." Draco stood, his face hard as stone, and Theo's wand in his hand still pointed at the other man's heart. "We have no idea where we are, our wands are back in that forest, and for all we know, this could be one giant trap. Is this a trap?"
Theo merely looked bored. "I thought you trusted me."
"Is this a trap, Theo?" Draco's voice was clipped and unlike anything Hermione had heard from him before. She suspected she was seeing a little bit of the young man he'd been during the war, who'd been forced into all sorts of situations and had to fight his way through any way possible.
"No, it's not a trap, Draco. You think the Death Eaters would use this place as a safe house?" He indicated the filthy room.
Draco never took his eyes off Nott, but Hermione surveyed their surroundings for the first time. From what she could tell, they were in a large building that hadn't been used in ages. There was dust and filth everywhere, the few high windows were mostly broken, and it smelled of rot and mold. The only light was the thin, pale moonlight that leaked in through the slim windows. She remembered that Voldemort had set up his headquarters at Malfoy Manor in their timeline, the richest, most luxurious home in all of wizarding England. She doubted very much that in this, albeit grittier timeline, he'd choose a location such as this.
"If you're anything like the Theo Nott I know, you're only in this for yourself. Nothing will happen to you as long as you're telling the truth." With his eyes locked on Theo, Draco shifted the wand from his right hand to his left, then pulled his gun from where he'd tucked it in the waist of his trousers. Unclicking the safety, he now pointed the gun at Theo and took a few steps back. "Granger, take this." He held the wand out to her. "Go and retrieve our wands from the forest where we left them a week ago, then come back here."
"We should talk about this." She took the wand, feeling instantly more herself and at ease, despite the wand in her hand not being her own. With a quick flick, she Conjured a chair. "Sit." Theo rolled his eyes but complied. She then tied him up with magical binding.
"Trust me. We can't let Nott have all the power in this. If he really wants to join the Order, he won't resist, and everything will turn out fine. But we have no idea where we are, we're far from our wands, and I won't rest easy until there's some balance."
Theo chuckled. "I'm only putting up with this because we've always been mates, Draco. And, if I'm completely honest, I'd be doing the same thing were our situations reversed."
"Are you sure about this?" Hermione searched Draco's face but he didn't let his eyes wander from their prisoner.
He gave a curt nod. "Go. And get back here."
She squeezed his hand, and he blinked, his jaw tightening. "All right. I'll be back in a few minutes." She took a few steps away from Draco, her heart pounding. There was something unsettling about the scene before her, Theo bound to a chair and Draco pointing a gun at him, but she couldn't dwell on it. All she could think as she Apparated back to another part of the forest they'd fled only minutes before was that she hoped everything would be the same when she returned.
The loud pop! of her arrival made her wince, but there was nothing to do. She simply had to hurry. It took her a moment to get her bearings, but they'd placed a magical signature on the tree where they'd hidden their wands, and once she waved Theo's wand and located it about thirty paces away, she started for it.
When she was ten feet from the tree, she heard the sound of a gun cocking. "Don't move."
Hermione froze. In the moonlight, she saw Naylen step out from a shadow, his weapon trained on her head. His expression was grim. "Well. Hello there, Beth." He tilted his head. "Beth, Beth. Where's Phil? You two have been practically stitched together since I met you, and now you're all alone." He tutted and walked slowly around her. Hermione focused on keeping her breathing steady, her eyes straight ahead while not staring directly at the tree she needed to reach. Perhaps she could Summon the wands; she had Theo's in her hand.
Naylen continued, brandishing a walkie talkie. "My men tell a strange tale, Beth. According to their reports, you were on the other side of the forest just two minutes ago. It's a few miles walk from here to there, and this spot isn't even inside our perimeter. Yet here you are, all alone." He stopped in front of her. "This gives me some important information, Beth. It tells me that you're a witch."
She gripped the wand tighter, and Naylen's gaze darted down to it. His eyes glittered when he realised what she held.
"Ah, and here's the proof, if I needed any more. Hand it over, Beth."
Her heart stopped, and her breath caught in her throat. It took every ounce of control not to react, not to show Naylen that she was scared. She forced herself to look at him coolly, as though nothing he said or demanded affected her, and held out the wand for him to take. He did, examining it carefully. Then before she knew what was happening, he snapped it in two, sparks of raw magic shooting out. He pocketed the two halves and resumed speaking.
"So you're a Death Eater, then?" he asked, reaiming the gun.
"No. Never."
A look of surprise showed on his face. "No? I thought all your kind were Death Eaters. In league with Voldemort, bent on killing all of us non-magical people."
"I'm not the type of witch Voldemort would want on his side." She clenched her jaw. "I believe there's a peaceful way through this war, where magical and non-magical people can live side by side."
Naylen gaped at her, then barked a harsh laugh. "That's complete bullshit, Beth. There's no future in that. But tell me, why wouldn't Voldemort want you? And what were you doing infiltrating my group? I hear you left with one of my best Commanders, too? Did you threaten him? Take him hostage?"
"My parents are not magical. Voldemort hates my kind." She hoped against all hope that this might be true in this timeline; but perhaps he'd decided that he'd have a larger army if he welcomed all kinds. Of course, he'd seemed okay with using half-bloods, so maybe even in her own time he'd have welcomed anyone with the kind of hate he possessed.
Again, Naylen seemed surprised. "Ah. So then you're part of a rebellion, even among your kind?"
"Something like that." There was a really good chance she could Summon the wands non-verbally. She hadn't used magic in a week, so it was simmering just under the surface, waiting, and with her heightened state of duress, she was almost certain that she'd succeed.
"Why did you come?" He looked genuinely curious. "You only stayed a week, that doesn't seem like enough time to do much of anything."
Hermione realized in that instant that there was a good chance he intended to kill her. She could use this to her advantage, and if she got away, she might have useful intel to report. "The device. We learned that you're working on some way of detecting magic."
Naylen's eyes widened and then he chuckled. "Of course! Yes, the device. Which is why you were in the tent that night." He shook his head. "Although the report on that makes me think you and Phil got a bit distracted from what you were supposed to be doing. You couldn't have been in there for five minutes before we noticed you. Not very good at this, are you, Beth?"
She shrugged. "First time."
"According to Troy, you and Phil were highly competent and promising individuals. Huh. And I know you two weren't my mole; I've been suspicious for weeks." He stared at her curiously for a long moment. "I'm nearly satisfied. What about my Field Commander? What have you done with him?"
Hermione said nothing about Theo. Just in case he'd been telling the truth, she couldn't risk endangering him or she and Draco. Without knowing more, there was simply no safe answer. "I doubt you'll ever see him again."
"No, likely not. Well then, Beth. Shall I tell you a little tale?" Naylen relaxed a bit and leaned against a tree, his weapon still pointed at her. "Your hostage knew a lot but he didn't know everything. Only I and one other person know what I'm about to tell you. It concerns that device you were so curious about."
She swallowed. By willingly giving her information, he'd all but confirmed that he was planning to kill her. Even though she felt reasonably sure that she could get away, it still chilled her to the bone. He seemed so light about it, casual, as though he killed people every day. He probably did.
"What about it?" Her voice was raspy, and Naylen grinned evilly, interpreting this as fear. Good. Let him underestimate her.
"It's far more complete and advanced than anyone knows, and it can do much more than simply locate magic traces. We can use it to put a trace of our own onto a person or an object. For example, I've done this with you."
Her blood froze. "What do you mean?"
"Before I stopped you in the woods just now, I used the device to tag you, if you will." He pulled a small, handheld electronic device from his pocket and showed it to her. What they'd thought was the device, a large, tube-shaped object covered with a cloth in the tent, hadn't been it at all. Her heart sank; all that work was for nothing. He pocketed the device once more and pulled another gun from a holster at his waist. "Now this gun shoots a very special bullet. It's designed to find that trace and hit it, no matter how far away I am when I shoot it."
She sucked in a breath, truly frightened for the first time.
"We've not had an opportunity to test it yet." The look he gave her now was predatory. "But since you're here, and you're a witch—I don't really care if you aren't in Voldemort's army—seems like a good time to try it out." He tucked his regular gun in the holster and took the tracing gun in both hands. "Now, it's not really sporting if I don't give you a chance, and besides, I want to see how this thing tracks. So, I'm going to give you ten seconds to run before I shoot. Are we clear, Beth?"
Hermione nodded, her mind on her escape plan. She'd run straight for the tree, which wouldn't be easy considering all the undergrowth, and if she reached it, she'd grab the wands and Disapparate. If she hadn't made it to the tree in eight seconds, she'd try to Summon the wands and Apparate. Without a wand, it might not work, but it was her only chance.
"Right then." Naylen grinned. "Ready?"
She started to run before he told her to, her heart pounding and adrenaline rushing through her veins.
"Oh, Beth! That wasn't on!" Naylen laughed. "One! Two! Three! Four!"
She wasn't going to make it; the brambles were too thick and catching on her clothes.
"Five!"
Only just halfway to the tree now, and the path was thicker ahead than behind.
"Six! Seven!"
Hermione stilled her thoughts and prepared to cast a spell with no wand.
"Eight!"
"Accio wands!" she shouted, hand outstretched.
"Ni—What did you say?"
The tree ahead of her rustled as the wands, disguised as branches, dislodged themselves from the tree and flew at her. Then everything seemed to slow down. Hermione watched the wands approaching, her hand reaching, her fingers, extended as far as she could make them go.
She heard a gunshot, and knew that Naylen hadn't bothered to count to ten.
Something ripped into her leg at the same instant that her hand closed on the wands and a pain unlike any she'd ever felt tore through her. Using every bit of strength she had, Hermione refused to think about the searing pain and focused on her destination, the warehouse. She was more determined to escape than she could ever remember being, and with all the deliberation she could muster, she turned on the spot and vanished with a crack!
ooo
Draco was a ball of nerves. She'd been gone far too long, and if something had happened to her, he would never forgive himself. He'd thought he'd given her the safer task of retrieving their wands, leaving him to guard Theo. But the other wizard had done nothing but blink and sigh. As the minutes wore on, however, even Theo became uneasy.
When a crack! split the air, they both turned in time to see Hermione arrive, then immediately collapse, blood pooling around her.
"Fuck!" Draco rushed to Hermione's side, searching desperately for where she'd been hurt. When he found a round wound on the inside of her thigh, he didn't know what to do.
"She's been shot," Theo said from his chair, his voice anxious. "She needs help. Fast. Take her to St. Mungo's."
Draco nodded and tried to gather her in his arms. Their wands spilled from her hands and he quickly grabbed them.
"Hey! I can help, let me out!"
Without sparing Theo a glance, Draco released him from the bonds. Theo was by their side in seconds, worry etched on his face. "Where's my wand?"
"Don't know. Don't care." Draco stood, astonished at how easy it was to pick Hermione up.
"It's the adrenaline," Theo said, answering his unspoken question. He ripped a strip off his shirt and tied it around Hermione's leg. "Shit. This is pulsing, the bullet hit an artery. We have to go now."
Hermione moaned just then and Draco looked at her. "We're going to St. Mungo's, Hermione. Hold on."
Just as he was about to Apparate, she spoke. "No. Harry."
"Bloody hell." He looked at Theo for help with this impossible decision. It seemed like her very life was draining away right in front of him.
"Whatever she says." Theo nodded rapidly, and Draco knew that he, too, was struggling.
"Fine." Draco thrust into Theo's mind, sent him a picture of the street where Order Headquarters was located, and said, "Meet us there. I'll collect you as soon as I can."
Theo nodded and Draco focused on not Splinching himself as he Apparated to Grimmauld Place. He was running as soon as his feet hit the ground, pushing away the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him at the task of Apparating with an unconscious and bleeding Hermione Granger in his arms. When he got to the door, he pounded on it, finally kicking it open to slam into the wall as he barged in.
"Potter!" he screamed. "Potter!"
People came running from every room, gasping when they saw Hermione limp in Draco's arms.
A woman Draco thought looked vaguely familiar rushed in, took one look at Hermione, and started working. Draco recognised some of the spells as diagnostic in nature, and he suspected the woman was a Healer.
"She was shot." His voice broke.
The woman nodded. "I gathered from the tourniquet. That was quick thinking, but she's lost a lot of blood. I need her downstairs in my operating suite."
Someone came and offered to take Hermione, but Draco shoved past him, following the woman with a singular focus. They descended two flights of stairs, finally emerging into a hallway. The woman led him into the first door on the left, a bright, well-lit room with a metal table in the center.
"Lay her down."
Draco complied at once, and the woman began ripping Hermione's clothes off to get at the wound. It was high on her inner thigh, and there was so much blood Draco didn't see how she could survive. Others flooded into the room, donning masks and gloves and special robes, and Draco was slowly pushed aside as everybody forgot him in their rush to save Hermione.
When his back hit the wall, Draco slid to the floor. He only then registered that he was shaking uncontrollably. He felt sick. But he couldn't focus on that right now; Hermione was bleeding out on the table not three feet away, and it wasn't possible, it just simply wasn't possible that she might die. Not Hermione Granger.
He propped his elbows in his knees and bought his hands to his head, belatedly realising they were covered in blood.
Her blood.
"I've got it."
A tiny, metallic click followed, but Draco didn't look up. He couldn't bear to watch, despite the collective gasps and relieved sighs from others in the room.
"The bullet severed the femoral artery, but we got to it just in time. I've repaired the damage there and will move on to the less urgent areas. She needs Blood Replenishing Potion stat and someone start an IV of antibiotics and fluids."
Three people stepped away from the table and Draco caught a glimpse of Hermione's hand resting limply on the table. The same hand he'd held as they walked through the Collective camp, from one training session to another, to the creek and back, the hand he had held onto in the dark of night when terror and doubt had threatened to swallow him.
After what felt like hours, during which Draco was barely aware of anything except Hermione's hand, the group of people attending to her began to disperse, removing gloves and bloody gowns and patting each other on the back.
"Well done, Healer Patil."
The name registered in his brain and drew Draco from his thoughts just as the woman herself spoke to him. She knelt down so that she could speak to him face to face.
"Malfoy? She's going to be fine."
At her words, something inside him broke open and he let out a shuddering groan, dropping his head to his knees. His heart was still pounding but he found that he could take deep breaths again. "Thank you." His voice, though, was still shaky, exactly the way he felt.
"You did the right thing, bringing her to me. Mungo's might have been too late." He nodded mutely. Patil smiled. "She's resting. I imagine she'll need a day or two of rest, but then she'll be good as new." Her eyes flitted over his face. "Looks like you could do with some rest yourself. But before that..."
She trailed off, her gaze drawn to the door of the surgical suite. Draco followed her line of sight and saw Harry standing there, his eyes on Hermione. With him was Ron and one of the Weasley twins.
Patil pulled off her surgical gear and went to speak to the group that had gathered. Draco slowly forced himself to stand, knowing he had to tell them what had happened to the best of his ability.
The Healer patted Draco on the back when he joined her. "Take it easy on this one, yeah? He's a bit of a mess. Hasn't left her side." With that, she left Draco to face Hermione's friends.
Draco heaved a giant breath, but Harry held up his hand. "Wait. I have orders to take you to the kitchen first. Come on."
Ron and his brother went on ahead while Harry waited for Draco. "I take it you're never seen a gunshot wound before?"
Draco shook his head.
"Bloody hell. You really aren't from here, are you?" Harry chuckled. "Don't answer that. I know it's true, but it didn't seem quite real before. But you look... Well, you look pale as a sheet and half dead to boot. Listen, they're gathering as many of the Order as they can to hear your story, but it'll take a little time. Molly figures you need to eat, and from the look of you, you need a pint. Or three. I can get you started with the latter, but only after the meeting." Harry indicated a door for Draco to walk through.
He did so, his stomach protesting the onslaught of smells that hit him upon entering the kitchen. A woman who could only be Ron's mother looked up from where she stood over the stove, orchestrating the preparation of various dishes like a conductor.
"Oh, Draco, dear, have a seat." She left the stove and bustled over to him, bringing a prepared tray covered with tea things. "Help yourself to whatever you need. Does anything sound good? When did you last eat?"
Draco had no idea what time it was. "We ate dinner at… seven or so." Somewhat mechanically, he began to prepare a cup of tea.
"Merlin's beard, you must be famished. It's nearly seven in the morning!"
Draco looked up at that, astonished that twelve hours could have passed since their last meal—and he'd been awake for most of it. Even still, nothing sounded very good. "I'll have some toast, I suppose. If you've got any."
"Coming right up." Molly smiled genially and set to work.
A woman with long, red hair sat down across from him, her hands wrapped around her own teacup. "How is Hermione?"
To Draco's relief, Harry answered. "She's going to be fine. Malfoy got her here in time for Padma to set everything to rights. Got the bullet out—it's a strange bugger, one we've never seen." He glanced at Draco. "But I suppose we'll get that story later. The good news is she'll make a full recovery. Though I doubt she'll be anxious for another assignment any time soon."
Draco wanted to say that the only thing they'd be doing from then on was working to get home, but he thought he'd better not; he didn't know who among the Order knew the truth.
Harry sat down beside the woman with a plate of bangers. "Something else to prepare for, Malfoy. We've got Theodore Nott in a holding cell downstairs. Claims he's with you?"
"That's right." Molly set a plate in front of Draco with three pieces of fresh toast, three pats of butter, and an assortment of jellies. "Thank you. He claims he wants to defect. We wouldn't have got out so easily without him."
Harry whistled and the woman raised an eyebrow. "You call one of you getting shot an easy exit?"
"I don't really know how that happened," he admitted quietly.
"You what?" Harry cried, incredulous.
"Now, dear, let's wait to hear him out."
"But Mum! How can he not know what happened to her?" Draco received not his first utter shock that day when he realised that the woman sitting opposite him was Harry's mother. He should have recognized her from her green eyes, but he'd assumed she was a Weasley from the red hair.
Molly returned with another plate of food for Harry and some cut up fruit for Draco. "Now, now, let's wait and hear what he has to say. Let the man eat, he's been up all night, worried for Hermione. He's filthy and needs a shower—give him some space."
Draco grudgingly thanked Mrs. Weasley and tucked in to his food. Nobody bothered him while he ate, for which he was grateful. When he'd eaten the toast and fruit, the rest of his appetite woke and he ate two full plates of bangers and mash, much to Molly's delight. When he couldn't eat another bite, he pushed his plate away and yawned, stretching his body to its limit. It had been a long time since his last sleep, and now that his stomach was full, his body was reminding him of that fact.
"Done?" Harry finished his cup of tea, poured a second, and motioned for Draco to follow.
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. Breakfast was incredible." Draco took his dishes to the sink, which made Molly grin.
"So polite. But enough stalling. You'd best go on." She shooed him out of the kitchen.
Harry led him through the house to the room where he and Hermione had received the details of their mission. Harry went inside, but Draco hesitated. Through the door he could see about nine people occupying chairs, and it occurred to him suddenly that he'd be recounting the last week of his life without Hermione by his side. The thought was unsettling. He took a deep breath and was about to enter when someone called his name.
"Ah, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco froze, his nerves melting inside him. When he turned around, Albus Dumbledore was gazing at him with a most curious expression. "Professor."
Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up. "Ah, nobody has called me that in many years, dear boy. But then, you are not from here, are you?"
Draco shook his head. "No, Sir." He couldn't help staring at the man who, when Draco had last seen him, was soaring over the edge of the Astronomy Tower, dead long before he hit the ground. His last words had been to beg Snape for something, but Draco had never found out what it was.
"I gather from the way you're looking at me that it's been some time since we've seen each other, is that correct?" Dumbledore peered over the rim of his half-moon spectacles, looking so much like Draco's earliest memories of the man that his knees nearly gave out.
"That's correct, Sir."
"I take it that, where you're from, I'm dead."
Surprised by his bluntness, Draco could only nod.
"And yet your war has been over for some time." Dumbledore nodded to himself. "Why, then, Mr. Malfoy, are you so pale?"
Draco swallowed hard. "Because, Sir. I'm afraid that it was my fault that you died." The words tumbled out of his mouth without his permission, but he didn't regret them for an instant.
"Ah, I see, I see. We were enemies?"
"Oh, not exactly, Sir. It's… it's a long story. I was told V-Voldemort would kill my mother unless I killed you, so I… worked hard to do a shoddy job of it, but in the end, I… I managed to let in people who did finish you off." Draco frowned. "Actually, Sir, that's not quite true. Snape is the one who—"
"Snape!" Dumbledore was truly surprised at that. "Severus Snape?"
Draco nodded. "Yes, Sir. He's the one who… you know. You'd asked him to, you see. That much I've gathered."
"Severus… was working with me?" The old wizard's bright blue eyes were piercing, and Draco wondered if he was trying to peer into his thoughts.
"Yes, Sir. Granger would know more about that than I, though. You can talk to her when she wakes up." Draco glanced into the room, half expecting to see his former Potions teacher among those gathered. "Is Snape not here?"
"I'm afraid I have some upsetting news to depart, it appears. Severus is Voldemort's right-hand man, Draco. He has been, ever since he left Hogwarts."
Draco frowned. "Are you sure, Sir? He was a double agent of sorts where I'm from, perhaps he's doing the same thing here."
"No, I'm afraid not." Dumbledore appeared deep in thought now. "I've seen and heard too much about him to believe that he could be working with us, even surreptitiously. But where you're from… Fascinating… I look forward to speaking with both you and Miss Granger at length another time. For now, however, we've other matters to attend to." He motioned for Draco to enter the room.
The quiet chatter died when he entered, taking a seat beside Harry. Dumbledore went to the front of the room and called order, even though it was unnecessary. It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.
"Thank you all for coming on such short notice. As you know, Mr. Malfoy here and Miss Granger were sent on a reconnaissance mission to infiltrate the Collective. They've returned to us today under most unusual circumstances after being gone a little over a week. I, for one, look forward to hearing the story." With that, he sat down and turned his full attention to Draco. Everyone else in the room followed suit.
Draco cleared his throat and began. He started from the beginning and shared every relevant detail, including how Theo had come to join them. Theo's claims to know everything about the device caused a stir in the room, and Draco sensed some excitement at the idea. Finally, he came to the point of his greatest shame, when he had to tell them he had sent Hermione back for their wands—alone.
"You what?" Ron exploded, almost coming out of his seat to launch himself at Draco.
"I had no idea it wouldn't be safe! We'd stowed them far from the camp; I don't even know if she was hurt by someone from the Collective or someone entirely new. All I know is, she Appararted back to where Theo had taken us and immediately collapsed. We brought her here. You know the rest."
Silence stretched for several minutes. Draco stared at the table in front of him, unwilling to look anyone in the eye. Finally, Dumbledore spoke.
"You left the Collective because Theodore Nott, one of Voldemort's top Lieutenants, threatened to expose you unless you brought him with you?"
"Yes, Sir." Draco's voice felt dry and exhaustion was beginning to finally sink all the way to his bones. "When he said he wanted to defect, I figured you lot would know what to do with that. Then he pointed out that, since he'd been there so long, he knew far more than we'd ever learn, so it seemed that staying any longer was unnecessary. The leader suspected there was a mole in his group, so it was only a matter of time before we were found out—even though we weren't that mole, we were still suspicious. I highly doubt he trusted us."
Someone else, a man about twenty years older than Draco with shoulder length black hair, spoke. "You're telling me you let Theo Nott take you and Hermione to an undisclosed location via Portkey when you didn't have your wands?"
Draco blinked, realising how stupid it sounded. "Yes."
The man threw up his hands and laughed, somewhat maniacally. "You just broke about a dozen rules of espionage, not to mention being utterly stupid."
"Sirius, he got the better of Nott," said Harry.
"Only because it just so happened that Nott didn't betray them! He could have taken them straight to Voldemort!"
"We trusted him." Draco met the man's eyes. "Or, at least, we believed that he wanted to leave Voldemort's service." When Sirius started to speak again, Draco cut him off. "I realise that it was a mistake that could have gotten us killed, but we're here, aren't we?"
Sirius only shook his head and pointed towards the door. "Your partner? Is only barely here. So I suggest you—"
"That's enough." Dumbledore steepled his fingers on the table before him. "Gideon, Remus, please speak with Mr. Nott after this meeting. As for Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger… it was a mistake to send them, and I take full responsibility for that. They were untrained and completely unfit for the mission, I see that now. But what's done is done, and we may come out ahead on this. Does anybody have any further questions?"
It turned out that just about everybody did. Draco spent the next two hours going over everything at least three more times as they plied him for every scrap of information that might possibly exist in what they saw and did. He gave them his memories of their time in the big tent—stopping that memory when Naylen's men entered, he had no intention of sharing what happened next.
The frantic feel of her lips on his felt like another lifetime now.
When Dumbledore finally called the meeting to an end, he asked that Draco remain and bustled everyone else out.
"How are you feeling, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore's bushy eyebrows furrowed slightly.
Draco didn't answer right away, instead taking a moment to assess the question and what his answer might be. "Honestly, Sir, I'm feeling overwhelmed, but seeing you, speaking to you, it's… been good for me, I think."
"Oh? How so?"
"I think… just knowing that you're still out here… somewhere, even if you're not alive where I'm from… Well, Sir, you're the only one Voldemort was ever afraid of, so I have a great deal of hope for your cause and the wizarding world here."
Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up. "I am? The only one he's ever been afraid of? Oh, now that's… not something I've heard before, at least, not quite like that. Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I do believe the happy accident that brought you here was most fortuitous, and I shall have to apologise to your counterpart when I see him next for forbidding him from testing his device. It clearly didn't work as intended, and he'll need to figure out why, but I'm most grateful for the chance to meet you. And Miss Granger, when that time comes. Thank you."
Draco left without a word and discovered that Potter was waiting just outside in the hall. He was led to a guest room where he could sleep, and Draco passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow.
ooo
Draco woke with a start; someone was pounding on the door. "Oye! Malfoy! Dumbledore says you've had enough rest. Hermione's awake and she won't talk to anyone until she talks to you, so get your arse out of bed!"
"Bugger off!" He did his best to sound put out and intimidating, but considering he yawned through the last word, he didn't think he quite managed it.
Ron laughed, banged on the door once more, and left. Draco listened to his heavy footfalls disappear and groaned into the pillow. He hadn't moved an inch in his sleep, and he was groggy from his inadequate nap. He slowly pushed himself up, feeling his muscles strain from the training they'd gone through the day before.
It took him a few minutes to clear the fog from his mind. Draco stood and stretched, then saw, with horror, that his clothes had left blood stains on the sheets. He knew from his time during the war that blood was very difficult to get out of fabric, even with magic, but he did his best. He scrounged through the drawers, looking for clean clothes, but came up short. Apparently, the room wasn't one someone stayed in.
As he was beginning to despair, there was another knock on the door. "Open up!" came Harry's voice.
Draco did, ready to ask for something to change into, but without a word, Harry held out a stack of clothes, a towel, and a bar of soap. "Merlin, that's a welcome sight. Thanks, Potter."
"Sure. Just hurry up, all right? We're all anxious to hear from Hermione." He gave Draco a pointed look and walked away. "Bathroom's just down the hall on your right!"
After he'd showered and put on the fresh clothes quicker than ever before, Draco felt like a new man. Still a very tired man, but one who could at least perform basic functions required of him without dropping off to sleep in the middle. He made his way through the house, which felt both enormous and small all at the same time. He kept finding new rooms and nooks and crannies and it felt like it went on forever yet every hallway was too narrow for two people to walk through.
Just as he was about to head to the underground levels, Harry intercepted him. "Guessing Ron didn't tell you where to go. Sorry. She's one level down, third door on the right." He walked off before Draco could thank him.
Draco easily found the room and knocked on the door.
"Come in."
His heart did a funny skip at the sound of her voice that he didn't want to analyse. She was in a different bed, propped so that she was sitting. On a little table beside her sat a stack of books and a glass of water.
"Oh, Draco!" Her smile was bright and warm, and he was unable to stop himself from returning it with one of his own.
"Hello. You look a lot better than the last time I saw you." Without conscious thought, he pulled a chair beside the bed and took her hand in his—the same hand he'd watched through most of the time she'd been in the other room.
Hermione rolled her eyes but her smile stayed the same. "They tell me you saved me by bringing me here?"
He shrugged, the idea slightly unsettling for some reason. "You told me to. I didn't know you were conscious, but Theo said to take you to St. Mungo's, and you said no, bring you to Potter."
"Did I?" Her eyes widened in amusement. "Thank you for listening to me."
"How are you feeling?"
"Well, considering I was shot." At that, her smile faltered and she leaned forward slightly, her hand tightly gripping his. "Oh, Draco. There's so much I have to tell you!"
Draco listened with increasing astonishment and amazement at the woman before him as she recounted what had happened to her after she left him and Theo in the warehouse, and at some point, without thinking, he laced his fingers with hers.
When she finished, he let out a long breath. He'd been so caught up in her story, especially the end where she'd had to run to get away from Naylen, that he'd barely been breathing. "I can't believe you got away!"
"It was hardly unscathed." She gave him a pointed look. "From what I hear, I nearly bled out all over you."
"I don't care about that."
Her expression morphed into one of tenderness. "I also hear you didn't leave my side until they said I'd be all right."
Draco was having all sorts of feelings that he couldn't easily identify and wasn't prepared to explore. He scoffed. "I told you. I can't go home without you or your friends will kill me."
Hermione laughed but she didn't challenge him. He figured she knew it was more than that. When her mirth settled, she sighed. "I suppose we need to tell everyone else."
His own mood darkened. "I can't believe they've got a way to shoot magic users from such a distance, and with essentially no effort."
"And he wanted to toy with me," Hermione said, looking away from him. "Tagged my leg so that I'd be fit for another round or two."
Draco clenched his empty fist. "I'm so sorry for sending you back there. It should have been me."
She whipped her head around, giving him a hard look that matched the way he felt inside. "No, Draco. You had no idea; how could you? If we had to do it over again, it's possible I was the better choice. I've had more experience creeping through woods, trying to avoid capture than you. Remember?"
"But still—"
"No." Hermione adamantly shook her head. "We're not doing this. Just because you're a man doesn't mean you automatically should have been the one in harm's way. That's rubbish and you know it. I'm more than capable with a wand, just as anybody can be caught completely unaware. I wish I knew how he found me, but what's most important is that our task is complete and we can work on getting home."
Draco nodded, his brow furrowed. "It sounds like their device is nothing like the one other-Draco made."
"Let's call him Fake-O." She grinned wildly, mirth dancing in her eyes.
He quirked an eyebrow, then chuckled as her smile widened. He was about to speak when there was a knock at the door.
"Come in." Hermione gave his hand a squeeze, drawing his attention to the fact that their hands were still clasped on the bed.
Before the door could open, Draco jerked back, withdrawing his hand. He hated the twinge of confusion on her face, but he wasn't ready to deal with the questions and looks they would almost certainly be subjected to. Then he reminded himself that the people here might not care.
It was too late to take her hand again, however, as a long trail of people entered Hermione's room. Dumbledore led the way, followed by Potter, a slew of Weasleys, Potter's mother, plus a handful of people Draco assumed were part of the Order, including Sirius, whom he had belatedly realised was his mother's cousin. In total, Draco counted thirteen people as they walked through the door. Somehow the small room expanded to accommodate the group, and chairs popped into existence as the visitors Conjured them.
Draco remained beside Hermione, sitting as close to the bed as possible.
When everyone was settled, Dumbledore spoke, addressing Hermione with a fond smile. "Miss Granger. It is a pleasure to meet you. I've heard great things about you, though I shouldn't be too surprised, considering I know the Hermione Granger from this timeline." Draco's jaw dropped at the open way Dumbledore was discussing their real identities. Last he knew, they were supposed to pretend to be their counterparts. The older wizard must have picked up on his apprehension because he smiled serenely at him. "After your arrival last night we didn't have much choice but to tell the others the entirety of the situation. But don't worry, your secrets are safe here."
Hermione didn't seem bothered by the news at all. "It's very good to see you, Professor."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Are you ready now to tell us what happened to you? Mr. Malfoy here has given an account of your time since leaving this place up until you were separated, so there's no need to go into that. Unless, of course, you feel there's something you'd like to share."
Hermione glanced at him briefly. "I'm sure that Draco told you everything of import. However, he didn't have all the facts, which I only learned when I returned to retrieve our wands."
She launched into the story once more, and since Draco had already heard it, he focused on Hermione instead. She was animated yet controlled, thorough and careful. He watched her speak of the traumatic event which had happened to her with poise, grace, and humility. And bloody hell, he realised he found her to be the most beautiful and fascinating woman he'd ever known. Her strength in recounting the ordeal only reinforced what he knew of her, both from stories about the war and what he'd learned over the last week.
When she finished, the room was silent. Many were obviously distressed by her information, some agitated, but no one spoke. Everyone waited for Dumbledore.
"We have much to consider now that we have this information. Thank you, Miss Granger, for your courage in both what you did and in speaking to all of us here. They have a new device which can be used to electronically tag us, allowing someone to fire a weapon that is almost guaranteed to find its mark. This device is portable, functional, and likely easily reproducible. The Collective is a small organisation, but they will get more members and more attention with this technology. Thankfully, Miss Granger survived the attack on her life, and we can use the information she brought us."
An older man with red hair raised his hand. "Sir, something to neutralize the device shouldn't be too hard to create."
Dumbledore nodded. "Perhaps Miss Granger would be so good as to share her memories of the device with us?"
"Absolutely," she replied without hesitation.
"Excellent. You may begin at once, Fabian. Take your usual team."
Padma came to Hermione's bed with a vial in hand as Hermione put her wand to her temple and slowly extracted the memory. Padma bottled it and handed it to Fabian Prewett, who thanked her and headed for the door. Draco watched as six people stood and followed him out.
"Now, Mr. Malfoy, you and Miss Granger must turn to the task of getting back to where you belong. What do you require?"
Draco exchanged a look with Hermione. "We need to go back to Hermione's building. Perhaps there's something in the rubbish there that will help."
"Oh, we recovered the device. Earlier this week." Draco's head snapped towards the speaker; he knew that voice well. Minerva McGonagall stood and gave a curt nod in his and Hermione's direction. "It's in the lab room where our Draco Malfoy was working."
Dumbledore beamed. "Mr. Malfoy, it appears that you can begin your investigation. As soon as Miss Granger is given a clean bill of health, she may join you. Now, is there anything either of you would like to tell us?"
Draco couldn't think of anything useful, but Hermione shifted beside him, sitting up straight again.
"Sir? I don't know what help this might be, but I was told by someone earlier today that Snape is Voldemort's most loyal follower here?"
Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I had such hopes for that young man when he was at Hogwarts. Alas, he was too drawn by Riddle's charisma, I'm afraid."
Hermione's gaze flitted from Dumbledore to Harry to Lily Potter and back to Harry. "Again, I don't know if this information will be helpful or even true here, but where I come from, Severus Snape was a hero who died in the war. His last action was to give his memories to Harry, who then viewed them and was able to piece together the solution to defeating Voldemort."
Draco noticed that Hermione kept glancing at Lily, whose expression was torn.
"We've heard of the things Snape is capable of," said one of Ron's older brothers; Draco didn't know which. "If you've information on him that might help, please tell us."
"I will, of course. When Harry was a baby, his parents died to save him from Voldemort himself. Snape had… had been friends with Harry's mother when they were young, before Hogwarts, and it was this act that caused him to turn spy for the Order. Because he loved Harry's mother deeply. Until he drew his last breath."
Lily gasped, her eyes going wide. "What?"
Hermione rushed to speak. "This doesn't mean that your Snape feels or ever felt the same; I don't even know if you knew him before school, but… I thought you should know. Our Snape held onto that love his entire life, and if there's even the chance that he might be turned, you might start there. If you even knew him, Mrs. Potter."
"I did. He was a dear friend, for a long while. But he got caught up with a group in his house that introduced him to Dark Magic. Eventually, we drifted apart."
"That sounds similar to what happened where we're from. It's something to look into, at least."
Dumbledore had been nodding slowly all through Hermione's speech. "Love is the greatest power in all the world. Who knows, this seemingly insignificant information might turn the tide." He sighed wistfully, his gaze no longer seeing what was in front of him but some unknown scene from his past. "There is one more matter to discuss, and that is our… guest. Remus tells me that, like Miss Granger before him, Mr. Nott refuses to speak to anyone until he speaks with you, Mr. Malfoy. Would you mind paying him a visit at your earliest convenience?" He slapped his hands on his knees and stood. The others all did likewise. "Miss Granger, we'll leave you to your rest."
"Professor." Hermione's tone was urgent, and everyone paused to look at her, though she kept her eyes glued on their former Headmaster. "May I speak with you privately? With Harry and Ron, too?"
Dumbledore nodded without hesitation. Everyone exited save for those Hermione had requested stay; Draco assumed that she meant for him to be there and didn't even pretend like he was going to leave. When everyone was seated once again, Hermione proceeded. "Sir, have you ever heard of a Horcrux?"
Draco's blood went cold at the word, and he didn't even know what it meant. There was something about the word that whispered in his memory, but he couldn't be sure.
Dumbledore frowned, peering at her intently. "I believe I came across the term once. Why?"
"In our timeline, Voldemort created quite a few."
"What's a Horcrux?" Harry asked, speaking for the first time since entering the room.
"It's a piece of one's soul, ripped apart and placed into an object. Our Voldemort split his soul six times, believing that this would grant him that which he most desired: immortality. Harry, Ron and I spent months searching for each one and destroying them. Only then could Voldemort himself be defeated. When Harry's mother died to save him, her love protected him and the killing curse rebounded and struck Voldemort. At that time, he unintentionally created a seventh, in Harry himself. However, since his soul was not completely contained in his body, his spirit survived, and he was able to come back to life in a new body."
Weasley gaped at her open-mouthed; Potter was frowning.
Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling in a way Draco had never seen. "That would explain certain… characteristics I've noted in him."
"Are you telling us that you know what objects might house these Horcruxes?" Potter asked.
"I can certainly tell you what mattered to Tom Riddle in my timeline. Professor Dumbledore, you can likely attest to whether these things would matter to your version. Let's see." Hermione held up her hands and began counting them off as she listed. "There was the ring that had belonged to Marvolo Gaunt, his grandfather and a descendent of Salazar Slytherin, Slytherin's locket, a cup that had been Helga Hufflepuff's, Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem, a diary Riddle had created when he was sixteen, and his pet snake, Nagini. Oh, and Harry, of course, as I said earlier."
"Tom Riddle did and presumably does have an extreme affinity for Hogwarts. However, I've never heard of him with a snake."
Hermione shook her head. "The snake was the last one, and he made it after he had returned in his new body."
Dumbledore was quiet for a long moment, muttering softly to himself. "You said you, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Weasley searched for these things? Were you three quite close?"
"Are. We are quite close, yes."
Harry and Ron exchanged a look.
Hermione smiled sadly. "I suppose, in this timeline, it's possible we aren't such good friends. Harry, Ron, and I spent almost every year battling Voldemort in some fashion. Nearly dying while saving each other's lives… we're bonded in a way that's unbreakable. I'm sorry you lot have missed that."
"Oh, we've had plenty of chances to save each other's lives," Ron remarked. "We've been fighting this war and living in this reality our whole lives. But it does sound different."
Hermione nodded, then broke into a yawn. "I'm so sorry!"
At that, Dumbledore stood. "I look forward to speaking with you more on this matter, Miss Granger. For now, I must insist that you get some rest. You've been through quite a lot. Mr. Malfoy, do come with us. We need to have a little chat about Mr. Nott."
"I'll be right there." Draco stood and stretched, smiling at Hermione. "I'd like to hear all of those stories as well some time."
She grinned. "When we get home, I'll tell you any story you want to hear."
The thought struck him that when they returned home, they'd have a lot of explaining to do and even more questions to answer. But before he borrowed trouble, they had to find their way back to where they belonged. For now, as Hermione lay down and pulled the covers up close, he forgot all about what was waiting for him at home.
"I'm going to hold you to that." He brushed a curl off her cheek, then leaned down and gently pressed his lips to her temple.
"Sounds good." Her eyes were already closed, but she smiled. "Night, Draco."