A/N: Thank you all for your lovely comments! I really appreciate hearing what you think.
AlphaBet love to BiscuitsForPotter and DisenchantedGlow for spending countless hours helping me with this story!
Something was certainly off within the Order. Even a month after Pansy's death, the feeling of vulnerability still lingered in the minds of every Order member. Although Shacklebolt had stated outright that he did not suspect that there was a traitor in their midst, many of the members seemed to disagree. Clearly they had been compromised in one way or another. Either Shacklebolt was wrong and there was a spy, or their security wasn't nearly as strong as they had once thought.
Draco was still getting wary glances every now and then, but he wasn't the only one. Everyone seemed to be hesitant to open up to anyone outside of their small circle of close confidants.
Draco noticed that Finnegan in particular seemed to keep to himself. With the exception of Dean, the man rarely spoke to anyone else. George Weasley also seemed withdrawn, choosing to only keep the company of Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson, and his family members.
Draco had Granger, of course, but also could turn to Ginny, Chang, or Potter for company if Granger was stationed elsewhere. Charlie was still friendly with him, but something had certainly shifted within him when Pansy had been killed. Whether he was heartbroken over the loss of his… whatever she was to him, or felt guilty about her dying while under his protective care, Charlie had withdrawn considerably in the past weeks.
As May ended, some of the abroad teams came back to headquarters. Unfortunately for Draco, this meant the reappearance of Ronald Weasley.
The redheaded menace walked into headquarters like a king returning from a victorious battle, arms held wide to receive embraces from his adoring fans. Draco grimaced from his chair in the sitting room as Ginny jumped up to greet her brother with a warm hug.
Granger stood too, and Draco watched her movements carefully as she approached Weasley with a smile and wrapped her arms around his neck. He couldn't help but notice—with some satisfaction—that she seemed slightly less enthusiastic than she had last time he'd seen them together.
After the weekly Order meeting, Shacklebolt read out the list of safe house assignments for the week. He would be at the Westenberg house with Granger, Potter, Weasley, and Chang. At this announcement, Cho shot him a look of solidarity, and Draco could guess why. A week with the Golden Trio. Draco and Cho would surely be glad they had each other by the end of it.
As they all departed for the safe house, Draco noticed that Granger seemed to make a point to put herself between Potter and Chang, rather than stand next to Draco or Weasley as the Portkey whisked them away.
Draco got settled into his room, grateful for the number of bedrooms in the Westenberg house. With five bedrooms, there shouldn't be any sharing of bedrooms—at least Draco hoped.
"Who's up for a game of Quidditch?" Cho asked after dinner. "It's still light out. We could have a quick match before dusk."
Draco sneered, rubbing his side. "No, thanks. I haven't forgotten how a game of doubles with Weasley ends for me."
"That was an accident," Weasley scoffed.
"Sure it was," Draco droned, rolling his eyes. "Either way, I think I'll wait to fly until you're back in another country."
"Coward."
Draco looked up sharply. Weasley's eyes were on him, dark and daring. Draco knew he shouldn't allow himself to be goaded into playing just so he wasn't seen as a coward, but dammit, he couldn't give Weasley the satisfaction of thinking he was right.
"Alright, fine," Draco conceded. "But if you try anything like last time, you'll be puking up slugs. And I'm sure you remember how that felt."
Weasley's ears went red, much to Draco's satisfaction. From the corner of his eye, Draco saw Granger roll her eyes and shake her head.
"We could just put you two on the same team and force you to work together," suggested Potter with a smirk.
"I'd rather lose than play on the same team as the ferret," Weasley grumbled.
"Good," Draco laughed. "Because Chang and I are going to wipe the floor with you two."
Cho was a fair flyer, and together, she and Draco made a good team. They communicated well and did an excellent job of sharing offensive and defensive duties. But Potter still had his Firebolt. Against him, Draco and Cho didn't stand much of a chance on the splintered old brooms from the shed at Westenberg.
Even with Weasley's abysmal flying, Potter outscored them 60-20.
"Good game, everyone," said Potter as they made their way back into the kitchen.
"Yeah," Weasley laughed, clapping Potter on the shoulder. "For us!"
Draco scowled at Cho, who rolled her eyes, obviously just as annoyed by the ginger menace as he was.
"Ron!" Granger chastised.
"What?" Weasley laughed, ruffling her hair and walking past her into the living room.
"Tactless son of a—" Cho muttered under her breath.
"I'm going to take a shower," Draco announced, needing a break from Weasley's presence more than anything.
That evening, Draco silenced his room. He hoped that Granger would not let Weasley into her room again as she had last time, but if she did, he didn't want to know about it.
He slept restlessly that night. Each time he woke up, his hopes had him glancing toward the door as if Granger might sneak into his room and lay down next to him. She never showed. It wasn't so out of the ordinary, really. They frequently went several nights without seeking comfort in each other. He could only hope that she was getting a good night's sleep… alone.
Draco rose early the next day and tiptoed down the stairs just after seven. He put the kettle on the stove and set to work making some breakfast.
"Good morning," came a cheerful voice from behind him. He turned away from the eggs he was scrambling to see Granger shuffling in, freshly showered and fully clothed.
Had she slept with Weasley last night? Draco couldn't tell. She certainly seemed chipper, which was likely evidence—at least in Draco's mind—that she hadn't had Weasley pawing at her all evening. But she'd already showered, so he couldn't glean much evidence from the state of her hair.
"Morning," he returned lightly. "Cuppa?"
"Please."
Draco retrieved the kettle and poured her some tea. She thanked him and then began setting the table for breakfast.
"Thank you for cooking. This all looks amazing," she smiled, peering around him to eye the eggs and bacon he'd made.
"Don't mention it."
"Sorry about Ron yesterday," Granger said, sipping her tea.
Draco scowled. "It's not your responsibility to excuse his actions, Granger."
"I know that. But I feel like I should at least explain."
"Alright," Draco sighed, stirring the eggs in the pan. "I'm listening."
Granger leaned back against the counter next to him. She didn't look at him, instead keeping her head slightly downcast. "He's a bit… different since Fred died. It hit him and George the hardest, I think. At least they seem the most changed by it. I know it's not really an excuse. He's just been so angry these past couple of years. I think he sees you as someone he can take it out on."
"Yesterday was nothing, Granger."
"I know, but he's going to be here all week, and I just think it would be helpful if you… took the high road, as it were."
Draco scooped some eggs onto his plate and grabbed a couple of slices of bacon. Irritation bubbled within him. It seemed to him that Granger should have directed this little lecture to Weasley. Instead of excusing his actions, she should have called him out on them. Weasley didn't deserve to have her stand up for him, and yet she did it all the same. Perhaps she had slept with him.
Pushing his ire down, he turned to face her. "I see," he hummed. "So you want me to be the bigger man."
"If you don't mind," she smiled up at him.
Draco's eyebrow twitched up as a smirk took over his face. "I don't think that will be a problem. There's no doubt in my mind that I am the bigger man."
A faint blush spread over Granger's cheeks and her eyes widened as he winked and turned away to sit at the table.
"Alright, Hermione?" Potter greeted as he shuffled into the kitchen and made a beeline for the kettle.
Granger shook her head quickly. "Yes, good morning, Harry. Draco made breakfast!"
"Thanks, mate!" Potter poured himself a cuppa and then set to work preparing a plate for himself.
Draco blinked, sure that Potter had never called him 'mate' before. It made him feel strange, to be so civil with his old school rival. Surprisingly, it did not make him want to vomit. In fact, he found himself rather enjoying breakfast with The Boy-Who-Lived and the Gryffindor Golden Girl. Perhaps all of this was an elaborate hallucination brought on by madness due to Dolohov's Cruciatus Curse back in August. It would certainly explain a lot.
Once Weasley joined them for breakfast, it became abundantly clear to Draco that Granger had spent all of the previous night alone. The ginger man was in a right foul mood. Surely if he had spent the night with Granger, he wouldn't be acting like someone spat in his tea.
Even beyond Weasley's sour attitude, Draco could tell nothing had transpired by the way Granger avoided looking at the man. She kept her eyes down as she finished her eggs, only speaking when spoken to. She offered Weasley short, clipped replies and Draco wondered if they'd had a falling out. His earlier irritation with Granger melted away and his spirits boosted for the rest of the day.
While it seemed clear that Granger was not sleeping with Weasley, she also seemed to be keeping an unusual distance from Draco. He hadn't seen so little of her since they'd been stationed at different safe houses. For such small quarters, he went shockingly long periods of time without seeing her.
Draco couldn't help but feel slightly insulted by her sudden coldness. A dark, possessive part of him longed to make some kind of gesture. Stake a claim on her for Weasley to see. But he knew that doing so now would only anger Granger. She would surely hate being treated like an object to be claimed.
Yet a primal, masculine force within him growled every time he saw her talking to Weasley.
This angry force hit him particularly hard when, after five days, Draco heard raised voices in Granger's room as he walked down to dinner. He paused, listening closely. He could only hear specific words, but it was enough to paint a picture of the greater argument.
"Malfoy… Death Eater… fucking traitor… spy."
Based on these words, it wasn't hard to glean what was being discussed. Draco could hear Granger's angry voice reply, low and daring, her words muffled.
"Unbelievable!" Weasley roared.
Draco heard something low thud loudly against the wooden floor and he jumped, assuming the worst. Immediately conjuring images of Weasley raising a hand to Granger, Draco went into a protective mindset, he drew his wand and pushed the door open.
Granger and Weasley stood several feet apart. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her brow furrowed angrilly. There was a toppled chair just behind Weasley, and Draco wondered if he'd thrown it down in a fit of rage. Seeing red, he snarled at the ginger man. "Get away from her."
"What are you doing here?" Weasley grimaced. "We're having a conversation."
Draco seethed. "You're done. Get out."
"It's fine, Draco. Really." Granger's voice was soft.
"Oh, it's 'Draco' now, is it?" Weasley sneered. "And since when do you need him to fight your battles for you?"
"I'm not going to tell you again." Draco gripped his wand tighter in his hand.
Weasley's eyes darted back and forth between Draco and Granger several times. "So this is how it is, then?" His face went a deep crimson as his jaw clenched. "Fine."
On his way to the door, Weasley paused next to Granger, speaking in a low voice. "I'm really disappointed in you, Hermione." He brushed roughly past Draco and swept out of the room.
"Are you alright?" Draco asked.
Granger's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Yes, of course."
"He didn't—?" Draco eyed the overturned chair and Granger followed his gaze. Her eyes went wide with realization.
"Oh, no! Ron would never—he just tripped." She let out a little laugh, but it seemed a little forced.
He raised an eyebrow at her.
"Really, Draco, I'm fine. Ron and I have always fought like cats and dogs. He has a temper, but he isn't violent."
The tight coil of rage within Draco loosened slightly.
"How much of our fight did you overhear?" Granger asked, her cheeks turning slightly pink.
"Enough." Draco shrugged.
"Oh…"
"It's okay, Granger. I don't care that he thinks I'm a traitor." He pocketed his wand. "Everyone else seems to."
Granger tilted her head in confusion. "He wasn't calling you a traitor."
"He wasn't?"
She shook her head. "He was calling me one."
At the end of the week, Weasley left to go back to his assignments abroad and Draco and Granger were separated. Draco would be spending the week at headquarters, and Granger—well, he didn't know where Granger would be. In an effort to keep members safe. The Order had begun moving people to and from safe houses at unpredictable hours. The master list of safe house assignments was kept locked in Shacklebolt's office. On the morning after the weekly meeting, Draco had woken up to discover that Granger and her housemates had moved some time during the night.
That week, Draco spent most of his time during the day brewing more antidote in the office with Lovegood. It seemed that the only time the girl wasn't talking incessantly was when she was brewing potions. The two worked together in near silence.
Often in these hours, he'd find his mind drifting back to Granger. He wanted to brew as much antidote as possible to avoid a repeat of the last attack recovery. Seeing Granger so defeated was not something he wished to relive.
"Would you like a charm to take care of those wrackspurts?"
Draco looked up from his bubbling potion. Lovegood was staring at him with her pale eyes. "What?"
"Your brain's gone all fuzzy," she said dreamily, tilting her head to the side. "Were you thinking about her again?"
Draco cleared his throat, deftly returning his attention to his cauldron. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"It's okay. Her brain goes fuzzy when you're around too."
He looked up sharply. Lovegood was stirring her potion absently, five circles clockwise, two counterclockwise. She seemed so oblivious to everything. How was it possible for her to have noticed something he kept so heavily guarded? And Granger… had Lovegood noticed something similar in her as well?
Turning back to his potion, Draco tried desperately to quell the fluttering in his heart.
On Thursday, Draco sat at dinner with George and Charlie Weasley and Lee Jordan. Despite Jordan's obviously biased commentary of the Quidditch games at school, Draco found that he enjoyed the man's company now.
"I'm telling you, mate," said George, picking at the final bites of his roast. "There's a market for that sort of thing."
"For a magical vibrator? You've got to be kidding." Lee just shook his head with a laugh. "I know you love inventing some wild items, but that's just… a whole new level."
"Charlie? I know we talked about this on Monday, but would you care to tell Lee what a git he is?"
Charlie looked up from his drink. "Hmm?"
"C'mon! You remember! On Monday I told you all about this idea. You said it sounded brilliant!" George cajoled with a wink.
Charlie's brow furrowed. "Monday? I wasn't even here, mate."
"Are you mental? Sat right there and talked over dinner."
Charlie just shot his brother a perplexed look and shook his head before picking up his drink and taking a healthy swig.
George stared at Charlie skeptically. Draco understood why. Charlie had been at least half drunk every day since Pansy had died, but to forget entire conversations… Perhaps there was cause for concern. Draco vowed to keep an eye on Charlie in the future.
Shaking his head, George rounded on Draco. "What do you think, Malfoy?"
Draco pulled back slightly. "Me?"
"Yes, you. Is a magical vibrator something you could see yourself using?"
Draco's neck flushed. "See myself using? I don't—"
"Okay, maybe not for yourself. But perhaps with a lady friend?" George waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Sometimes a witch needs a little extra help. Could be useful…"
Draco cleared his throat. "Never had any complaints." He didn't feel the need to tell George just how long it had been since he'd even had the opportunity to please a woman.
"I think that's a yes." George turned back to Lee with a triumphant smile that Draco didn't think was really justified. "See?"
Lee scoffed and took a swig of his butterbeer. "You're mental, mate."
George's eyes went a bit unfocused for a second as he twirled his knife on the end of his thumb. After a moment, he cracked a smile. "What about an automatic ear hair trimmer?"
Lee burst out laughing and even Draco joined in.
A sudden commotion near the front door caused them all to rise to their feet and draw their wands. People were shouting and running toward the entrance from the living room and dining room.
"What is it? What's happened?" Potter asked as Ginny entered the house coughing, nearly black with soot.
"The Westenberg house was attacked," she said, her voice trembling with terror. "They set the place ablaze."
Several other people were filing into headquarters behind her. Cho was cradling her arm, which appeared to be badly burned. Dean Thomas was coughing so badly that he was wheezing for breath, clutching at the wall to support himself.
"Is this everyone?" Potter asked, his voice urgent, green eyes darting from person to person.
Draco's stomach twisted painfully as if he knew what Ginny was going to say before she said it. Where had Granger been stationed? He hoped against hope that it was anywhere but the Westenberg house. Ginny shook her head, her teary blue eyes meeting Draco's.
"Hermione…"
Draco's stomach fell to his shoes as his chest tightened.
No. Merlin, please, no.
"...she didn't make it out."
A/N: The end.
Lol Just kidding. Can you imagine?
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Next chapter: June 29th
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