AN: Hi! I have this story cross-posted to AO3 (you can find me there under the same username, hellvwng). I am able to respond and engage much more easily and freely there and I LOVE chatting with readers and discussing with them, so please read and comment over there if you'd like! Thank you to everyone that has commented already: I read each and every review and I'm eternally humbled that people are enjoying my story. mwahhh
Two lonesome figures materialized suddenly on the cliff, cloaked in the inky indigo of receding night. Hermione and Snape stared at the cliffside cottage, windows cheerfully illuminated.
Hermione glanced up at Snape, standing still next to her. He seemed to be regarding the cottage suspiciously.
"Where are we exactly, Miss Granger?" he asked suddenly, turning to look at her.
Hermione faltered.
She had never considered that.
"Erm … I think it belongs to the Malfoy family? Mippet can travel here freely," Hermione said weakly. She gestured vaguely in the direction of the cottage, as if her hand wave explained it all.
"Mippet … is a house elf," she offered unhelpfully, after a few beats of silence.
Snape stared at her with an expression of greatest dislike.
"How helpful, Miss Granger. I am sure Mippet will be able to give Moody directions on where to retrieve our corpses," Snape sneered. He turned without another word and began stalking over to the cottage, cloak billowing out behind him.
Stupid overgrown bat, Hermione grumbled in her head. She turned to follow him and they arrived at the door a few seconds later.
Draco had been expecting them, it seemed. No sooner had they reached the door and Hermione extended a hand to turn the knob, he had opened the door itself.
They stared at each other, a most unlikely meeting.
Draco was regarding them both with a mild sort of amusement, while Snape glared back at him. Hermione shot Draco a measured look, as if to tell him "behave, please".
He stared back at her and looked faintly bored by the entire ordeal.
"Well, this is unexpected. Do come in, Severus, Granger," Draco drawled out. He opened the door wider and stepped back, making room for them.
Hermione entered first, followed by Snape. Draco closed the door behind them and Conjured a squishy loveseat sofa that matched the existing cream sofa, before settling himself into it.
He gestured imperiously at the cream sofa and Hermione obediently (if not a bit irritatedly) sat down, glad to rest her aching feet. Snape glared at Draco and paused, before making his way over to settle down as well.
Silence fell upon them.
Hermione twisted her fingers anxiously, picking at the dry cuticles and skin on her thumb. Should she say something? It seemed like Snape and Draco were sussing each other out.
Snape was the first to break the silence.
"It would appear Miss Granger has decided that Death Eaters are among the unfortunate, miserable creatures that deserve her protection now, much like house-elves," he drawled. His eyebrow was arched arrogantly at Draco.
Draco expression stretched into an expression of amused contempt.
"Granger does enjoy aligning herself with unfortunate, pitiful creatures, doesn't she? Picking up scar headed orphans, penniless ginger beggars, the entirety of the Insurgency - a losing cause, if I ever saw one," he responded slowly. His tone was calm and measured, but there was an edge to his voice.
Snape snorted derisively and settled himself back against the sofa. He gave Draco an appraising look before his expression darkened.
"You and I know what Narcissa is capable of. If she had found a means to defeat the Dark Lord, why did she keep it hidden from you?" Snape asked sharply. He seemed to be addressing Draco alone; Hermione had been forgotten.
She held her breath and watched Draco carefully. He had tensed, and his forehead was wrinkled in concentration as he considered Snape's words.
"She was in poor health and frail after being … tortured. Truthfully, I'm not sure what she did in the Manor most days; I was busy fulfilling my duty as High Reeve. I checked in on her every now and then but my mother had withdrawn from me too. It was hard to get more than a sentence out of her," he grimaced.
Draco's expression seemed to be far off as he hesitated, drawing upon his memory of a dark time.
"She didn't want me to see her in her condition," he continued on. "I … respected her wishes. I felt she deserved at least that - freedom to dictate her days. To be left alone so she could suffer in peace. She had been caged for weeks and tortured, I- … I couldn't cage her too, and force her to be in my presence."
He looked up at Snape. There was a hollow look in his eyes.
"I didn't notice her decline for a while. I was gone often by then. One day she seemed weaker than usual, and assured me she was fine. When I returned a few weeks later, she had slipped into a coma. I reached out at that point."
Snape pressed his long fingers over his mouth as he considered Draco's words thoughtfully. He nodded slowly; he seemed to accept these words as truth.
"And Narcissa … if we were to suggest an alliance of sorts, against the Dark Lord, she would accept?" Snape asked. His eyebrow was raised as he regarded Draco. "She has quite a … history, with him. On-going, even, as Bellatrix would serve Him in this life and the next, and she cares for her remaining sister. I am to believe that she would be loyal to the Insurgency?"
Draco nodded hesitantly.
"She … she was loyal to the Dark Lord, once. But that time has long passed. She has been weary of him for a long time … several years, at least. After my second year, my mother was tense. She wanted us to flee the country once she realized the Chamber of Secrets had been re-opened; she thought it was an omen of things to come."
Snape gave an ungraceful snort at this.
"Yes, Lucius rather bungled that entire affair," he remarked drily. Draco gave him an unamused look in response before continuing.
"She begged my father to let her escape with me at the end of fourth year, but he assured us he had things under control. He did not, as we now know," Draco responded irritably. "My mother wants nothing more than to cast off this wretched war; I am certain she would aid us if she knew the Insurgency had the resources to defeat Voldemort."
Snape sat silently for some time, considering Draco's words. Finally, he gave a curt nod and rose.
"Swear an Unbreakable Vow with Miss Granger, before we start this suicidal mission. I shall be the bonder."
Draco looked irritated, but complied anyway and kneeled down with his right arm propped against the coffee table. Perhaps he thought he could've outmaneuvered the Insurgency or that Snape had forgotten.
Hermione kneeled down opposite Draco and held out her own right arm, grasping his hand with hers. She stared at Draco and concentrated hard before speaking.
"Will you, Draco Malfoy, aid the Insurgency in defeating Lord Voldemort to the best of your ability?"
Draco stared at her. There was an intensity in his gaze.
"I will," he responded unflinchingly.
A rope of brilliant yellow flame snaked out from Snape's wand, to twist around their joined hands.
"And after his defeat, will you promise never to claim his power or become a Dark Lord yourself?"
"I will."
The flame surged and burnt blue for a single second, before disappearing in a shower of sparks. Magic thrummed between their clasped hands and Hermione's blood felt electrified.
Snape stared down at the two of them with a cold expression.
"Good luck, Miss Granger. I beg you to consider devoting your time to some equally pitiful but less dangerous creatures in the future; Blast-Ended Skrewts, perhaps."
Snape shot them one last look of utter contempt before making his way out of the cottage, slamming the door behind him.
Once Hermione heard the crack of Apparition and confirmed that Snape was truly gone, she sagged bonelessly against the coffee table and buried her head in her crossed arms.
Her breath left her body shakily, in a few stutters. Even her lungs had been anxious and tense, afraid to move a muscle.
She had saved Draco, for now. She had at least bought him some time, so that he wouldn't be executed immediately by Moody. Whether or not they would be successful in their nearly hopeless endeavour - only time would tell.
Even with her head bent down and ears covered, Hermione was able to hear the muffled sigh of relief from Draco next to her.
He had been holding his breath too.
Hermione Transfigured her jacket into a thick blanket and curled up on one end of the cream sofa, too exhausted to move. The night, day, night, and now day was catching up to her. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept; the day of the Sussex raid, maybe?
She was running on fumes. She was grasping at straws. She was desperate and hurtling into the unknown future, sprinting towards it blindly.
A shuffle of fabric and then she felt the sofa move beneath her. Draco had collapsed onto the opposite end, just as tired as her.
Hermione felt the blanket tug and she opened her eyes, blinking blearily. He had taken the other end of it and prepared to nap on the same sofa.
She narrowed her eyes.
"Transfigure yourself one, Malfoy," she muttered. Hermione tried to tug the blanket back towards her but Draco clung onto it obstinately.
"This is *my* house, Granger. Go back to your own base," he sneered.
She paused at this and turned to look at him curiously.
"This is your house?" she asked, eyebrow raised. It seemed too … quaint. Cozy. She had expected Draco to live in a fancy townhouse in London, like the once-decadent Grimmauld Place.
He snorted and continued in his assault against the blanket, tugging it further towards him.
"It belongs to my family, off the coast of France; my parents honeymooned here when they were young. The Malfoys landed in England in the 11th century but retained vast plots of land in France," he explained somewhat arrogantly.
With a successful humph, Draco had pulled the blanket to cover himself fully. Hermione's top half was left cold, while her legs remained toasty.
Shooting him a murderous look, she grabbed her wand and magically enlarged the blanket, big enough to cover them both.
With a whispered "prat" remark towards him (which he returned with a whispered "swot"), they both fell into an exhausted sleep on the sofa together.
Not touching, but sharing an overly large blanket that smelled faintly of moss and smoke.
Hermione awoke a few hours later. The sun had climbed lazy into its position in the middle of the sky, suspended perfectly so at mid day.
Pushing the blanket off, Hermione pushed herself onto her elbows and glanced around. Draco was gone.
Placing a hand on his side of the sofa, she found that it was cold. He had been gone for some time then.
She Transfigured the blanket back into her jacket and stood, pulling the jacket on. Taking one last look around and tidying the cushions she had flung onto the hardwood floor so she could nap peacefully, she left the cottage and Apparated.
The atmosphere inside Grimmauld Place was sombre. Whatever exhausted triumph they had felt from the liberation of Sussex and coordinated assaults on other bases had dissipated in the face of the aftermath.
Team Gamma was gone, members buried in a mass grave.
The prisoners that Bill had managed to liberate with the other half of Team Omega were in critical condition. Two dozen were hauled out of the underground cells in Sussex; a few had succumbed to shock before reaching base. The survivors clung to life but Hermione did not have high hopes for any of them. The best she could do was offer them pain relief potions or exceedingly questionable amounts of Dreamless Sleep, or Draught of Living Death.
You didn't need to worry about long-term dangers of potion abuse if your patients weren't going to survive long anyway.
Hermione had finished her rounds in the infirmary and had started brewing a quick batch of pain relief potion when she heard the tell-tale clunk of Moody's peg leg.
She turned and saw him. He was making his way towards her, but stopped when Hermione turned. With a quick jerk of his head, he began making his way towards his office.
Hermione cast a Stasis Charm on her cauldron in the infirmary before following Moody. She had expected him to summon her immediately. Maybe she should thank him for at least letting her catch up on her Healing work first, she thought grimly.
They entered the office and Moody closed the door behind her, limping to his desk. Hermione sat down at the same time he did, without waiting for his invitation to do so.
Moody stared at her appraisingly. Hermione refused to flinch or look away, and stared right back in defiance. She had been cowering, silent and obedient for far too long. She owed it to Draco to defend his life, the way that he had defended hers.
They sat silently for a few moments before Moody let out a slow, ominous chuckle. Then, he tilted his head back; the chuckle turned into a cackle, then a guffaw, before drying up again slowly.
"I didn't expect this level of cunning from you, Granger … can't say I'm disappointed anyway. Manipulating the Malfoy whelp and keeping him under your thumb … getting through all those Occlumency walls of his, sneaking your way in … very well played," Moody mused darkily. Hermione nodded faintly but did not speak.
It was never a manipulation tactic or game to her. She could never keep anything hidden from Draco. He had seen it all on her face, just as she had seen it all on his.
But she didn't dare let Moody onto the truth. If she breathed a word of any of it, he would consider her compromised by her feelings. He would start questioning her actions and leadership.
"I do wonder how far this whelp would go to save his mother. Severus said he swore an Unbreakable Vow?" Moody asked, looking up at her beadily.
"He agreed to aid the Insurgency to the best of his ability, and pledged never to take power for himself," Hermione confirmed evenly.
Moody's mouth tightened and distorted.
It took Hermione a moment to realize he was smiling. He was utterly pleased by this turn of events.
"Well … we'll just have to see how far we can push the boy then, won't we?" he asked Hermione. His expression had darkened.
Hermione felt cold as she stared back at Moody. She nodded hesitantly.
She had saved Draco, but it seemed that Moody would enact his own revenge against him regardless.
Draco had slipped from between his fingers, but Moody wasn't going to let him escape the war unscathed. Not if he could help it.
"Get to work with the Malfoy boy then, Granger. Regular reports on all the going-ons, then. We need the intelligence now more than ever. Dismissed."
Hermione rose and began making her way out of the room. Her meeting with Moody had left her distinctly unsettled, and suddenly uncertain. She had spared Draco for the time being, but a glint in Moody's eye told her that they weren't out of the woods.
"Oh, and Granger?"
Hermione had reached the door, and placed her hand on the knob. She froze and turned to Moody.
"That favour you owe Bill, he's looking for you."
Moody gave her a final, disfigured smile.