Chapter 2:
"I'll be happy once we've moved completely away from here," Hermione Granger said into the frigid night air as she walked down Grimmauld Place.
Her companion, Remus Lupin, pulled his shabby cloak closer around his neck and tucked in his chin against the wind and sleet. As they came upon the townhouse, he agreed, "It hasn't been the same here since Sirius' death."
The townhouse that had long acted as the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters was already in plain view, a fact that caused them both to simultaneously draw their wands and stand back-to-back, scanning their surroundings. Hermione's eyes searched the quiet London street, finding no one and nothing out of place. At nearly midnight, the neighborhood was empty, only their breathing breaking the silence. As she looked back toward the townhouse, she noticed a bundle of fabric on the doorstep.
"Look," she whispered through barely parted lips.
Her astute partner was already eyeing the doorstep with hesitant curiosity. He took a single step forward, all the while watching their surroundings for any sign of movement. Hermione looked toward the bundle once more and noted a long trail of crimson, so dark it was nearly black, running from it and along the cracks of the cobblestones.
"Remus, it's a person!" she gasped, stepping closer as horrific scenarios played through her mind of who might be bleeding out on the stoop.
"Hermione, be careful," Remus warned, covering her back as she crouched beside the crumpled figure.
The individual was wearing a thick, black cloak, made of something finer even than crushed velvet or cashmere. With a trembling hand, Hermione reached up and pulled back the hood. The gasp that parted her lips was involuntary as a head of white-blond hair was illuminated in the sparse moonlight. "It's Draco Malfoy!"
Whipping around, Remus pointed his wand directly where Malfoy was lying. But Hermione noticed that while she and Remus's breaths put clouds of mist into the cold night air, there was no puff of breath coming from Malfoy's mouth or nose. Wand in one hand in case this was a rouse, Hermione slipped her fingers under the neck of his cloak to feel his pulse point. For a moment, she felt nothing, and a sick feeling settled like a heavy stone in her stomach. But then, her finger caught a faint beat and, too many seconds later, another.
"He's alive, but just barely," she informed her counterpart, running her hands over Malfoy's frame and trying to find where he was bleeding from. Her hands touched something sticky and she drew it back to find it covered in congealed blood. Pocketing her wand, she began pulling at the sleeve of his traveling cloak.
"Hermione," Remus warned at the sight of her stowing away her wand, but she ignored his brusque tone.
The source of Malfoy's blood loss became evident as Hermione uncovered his arm completely; she nearly vomited as she leaned back on her haunches, covering her mouth with her hand to keep from gagging. The skin of his left arm had been flayed wide open and a large chunk of it—containing his Dark Mark, no doubt— had been completely removed. Raw muscle, tendons, and vessels were visible in plain sight. "We need to get him inside."
"Hermione, he's a Death Eater," Remus reasoned. "This could be a set-up."
"Someone attacked him. He's defenseless right now, considering he is dying. We can get him inside and send a Patronus to Kingsley. He'll bring the others, and they can figure out where to bring him from there. But he needs blood replenishing potions or he will die."
Remus glanced around them once more, almost as though he expected Malfoy to spring up and a horde of Death Eaters to storm them. Aloud, he observed, "This place has a Fidelius Charm placed on it. Only Secret-Keepers know its location. How did he find this place?"
Hermione's unease deepened as she thought about what he was suggesting. Death Eaters knew of their headquarters. They had a leak in their ranks.
A cold shiver went down her spine that had nothing to do with the London chill. She looked back down at the limp form of their foe, his face screwed up in a grimace even in unconsciousness. "I don't know how he came to be here," she admitted, kneeling beside him and beckoning Remus forth. "Let's get him into the house and give him some potions."
"Step back, Hermione," Remus instructed, finally resolving to act and he levitated Malfoy's body three feet from the ground.
They quickly entered the house and Hermione ran upstairs, hastening to wake the few Order members staying there. She rapped harshly on Andromeda's door before slamming into a cupboard where they kept healing potions. As she opened her door, Andromeda was pulling a dressing robe around her shoulders and tying it closed as she looked around at the witch.
"Grab whatever you can."
"What's going on?" the elder witch asked, scooping up an armful of the towels and bandages Hermione had put onto the sink vanity.
"Draco Malfoy has been injured—he's nearly dead. Remus has him downstairs," Hermione replied, Apparating herself to the ground floor.
Remus had levitated Malfoy onto a couch and used a severing charm on the length of his sleeve, exposing the wound for all to see. Andromeda gasped loudly and clapped a hand over her mouth. "He came," she choked out, kneeling next to him and using her wand to siphon the blood from his arm, face, and hair. "I was asleep," she said as an explanation as to why she had not known of his arrival, guilt masking her features.
"I've sent a message to Kingsley, ah—Lee, Dean," Remus said, watching as Lee Jordan and Dean Thomas both came ambling quickly down the stairs.
"Blimey, is that—" Dean began, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as though he were hallucinating.
"Yes, and we don't have long. Go get Molly," Remus instructed. Dean and Lee locked arms and Apparated away to their newest headquarters, a structure they called the "Compound."
Hermione rushed to Remus's side as he began whispering healing charms—he knew a vast array, considering the number of wounds he had self-inflicted over the years during his transformations. When Katie Bell, Grimmauld Place's last tenant, finally came down the stairs, Remus momentarily stopped his incantations long enough to instruct her to fill a shallow bowl with warm calendula and rose water.
She looked down at the limp form of the man sprawled across the couch, hesitant. "Why are we helping him?" she queried, crossing her arms. "He nearly killed me once."
"Yes, and we are not like him. We still have compassion," Hermione bit out, tilting a vial of coppery liquid to the unconscious man's lips. "Either help or get out."
Katie glared in their direction for a moment before heading into the kitchen to retrieve the necessary herbs. Hermione lifted Malfoy's hand, finding his skin freezing cold, and elevated it above his head. Almost unnecessarily, she announced, "He's hypothermic."
Andromeda began placing heating charms over his body just as Kingsley came bounding through the front door.
"Remus, I got your patronus—" the ex-Minister's eyes grew wide as he caught sight of Draco Malfoy, nearly dead and surrounded by Order members attempting triage. Raising his wand and crossing to the window, he peered out to watching the night sky, as though they could be under siege at any moment. "Will he live?"
"We're trying," Remus replied.
Katie returned with the bowl of warm water, and after transfiguring a coaster into a short pedestal to hold it, Remus took it.
"Place his arm into this," he instructed Hermione, enlarging the bowl to fit his entire forearm.
Just as Malfoy's arm entered the water with a warm splash, Molly Weasley entered. She had rollers in her hair and looked as though she had been ripped from a deep sleep. Dean and Lee followed her in, with Ron Weasley and Harry Potter behind them.
"Hermione, back away from him," Ron said immediately, winding through several other individuals to reach her.
"He's dying, Ron," she told him, gesturing to Malfoy's listless frame.
The noise of everyone speaking, grumbling and speculating, was nearly deafening. Hermione tried her best to drown it out, concentrating on the long tendrils of Malfoy's blood rinsing from her own hands and tainting the water. when the twins arrived, loudly declaring they ought to leave his body as bait, Kingsley stepped into action.
"Secure the perimeter—Tonks, Bill, and Neville are already close by, searching for any of his friends," Kingsley instructed from behind them.
As commanded, everyone left to spread out around Grimmauld Place, and the din around Hermione finally quieted. Only she, Remus, Andromeda, Molly, and Harry remained in the room with Kingsley, who continuously watched through the window as other Order members arrived and took position.
Hermione looked down at Malfoy's face for the first time since it had been cleared of blood. The grimace was gone, replaced with a look of blissful incognizance. His eyes were flickering behind the lids, while the faintest of peach coloring was returning to his pallid skin. As she studied him, her adrenaline began to ebb, to be replaced by common sense and logical reasoning. The man lying here, the one everyone was trying so hard to save, was a ruthless and trained killer. He was one of his foot soldiers, merciless and malicious. And yet, someone wanted to harm him. Had he been caught and then left for dead on the stairs? Did another Death Eater, or all of them, know where Grimmauld Place rested? Would there be a legion of angry followers swooping down on them at any moment, ready to avenge him?
All of the possibilities—the very ones Remus had attempted to voice outside—began to close in on her and she had to take a deep breath to try and clear her head. There was an acrid scent of Dark Magic lingering around Malfoy, no doubt from years of casting and basking in evil, and likely made more evident when his Mark had been carved away. The air about him tasted metallic as the blood and icy sleet that had soaked into his clothing began to thaw under the heating charms.
The others in the room were still talking, now in hushed voices, as Molly stepped up behind her. The motherly witch placed her hands on Hermione's shoulders and gently lifted her into a standing position. "Hermione. Why don't you go and make a spot of tea, hmm? I'll wrap his arm."
Molly withdrew the mangled remains of Malfoy's arm from the healing bath. Uncorking a vial of Essence of Dittany with her teeth, she began applying it liberally over the wound. Hermione nodded numbly and went to the kitchen. Her hand shook as she tapped the stove with her wand and lit a fire under the kettle. The witch stared out of the window, charmed to show a country scene, though the house was nestled amidst a neighborhood in the city. Sleet had turned into large flakes of snow: a rarity in this part of Britain. Beside her, a small Christmas tree sat on the kitchen table, its lights twinkling magically, almost tauntingly.
When the kettle began to whistle, Hermione jumped, startled by the high-pitched keening. Scolding herself for being ridiculous, she pulled the kettle from the stovetop and arranged it with teacups, sugar and a carafe of milk onto a tray. Not trusting her trembling hands, she levitated it into the living room and placed it on the coffee table. Not one person in the room seemed the least bit interested in tea.
Molly had bandaged Malfoy's arm tightly, a tiny dot of vermillion staining the stark white as a bead of blood escaped his veins. They had vanished his cloak, shirt, and trousers, leaving him in only a pair of boxer briefs. Hermione removed his boots and a dagger clattered to the floor. It appeared to have been hastily cleaned and remnants of blood had dried in the once-elegant engraving. With a shaking hand, she dropped the weapon into his empty boot before removing his other one. Molly and Remus both scanned his pale form for any additional wounds, speaking in clipped tones of their findings. Reaching forward, Molly beckoned Harry to assist her in rolling him onto his side, so they could check his back.
"Blimey, I've never seen so many scars," Harry muttered. He looked thoroughly put-out to be wasting magic on a Death Eater in any manner other than one conducive to interrogation.
"Poor dear," Molly remarked, running a damp cloth over his back to clean it of blood. "There's nothing else. Just his arm."
"If he's here, that means Narcissa is dead," Andromeda said aloud, her voice shaking unevenly as she patted her unconscious nephew's knee.
The witch, who bore a haunting resemblance to her sister Bellatrix, looked as though she had aged twenty years in the last ten minutes. Kingsley narrowed his eyes as he glared in her direction from his perch on the windowsill. "What does that mean? Did you go running your mouth? You are a Secret-Keeper!"
Andromeda shook her head vigorously. "No. Cissy and I spoke of this home just before He returned. Before Sirius Black offered it to the Order," she told him, standing and wringing her hands. "This house belonged to the Black family—all of us know of its existence."
"Then Bellatrix Lestrange can lead Him straight to us!" Hermione exclaimed, her heart beating at an infuriating pace that refused to slow.
"No," Andromeda said slowly. "You misunderstand me. It belonged to the Black family. It now belongs to Harry. Sirius, Alastor, and Bill all worked to place charms to ensure its safety. Now that it has left the Black lineage, it will only appear to a Black in distress."
"And if Bellatrix happens upon it, in distress?" Harry pressed, looking around the room.
"She won't. Bellatrix would never come to us if she were in trouble… and the house would not show itself to someone with malicious intent," Andromeda explained, looking down at her kin.
"You did not think to tell any of us of your vast knowledge of this house?" Kingsley chided, incensed. "We would never have stationed anyone here if we had known that the house would appear to Draco Malfoy!"
"It would not appear to him if he came to kill us. Or if he brought others to kill us!" she retorted, immediately on a defensive edge.
The others looked at Malfoy as well, confusion written all over their faces.
"What if it didn't appear to him at all?" Hermione asked aloud.
"What do you mean?" Andromeda asked her, sitting next to her nephew on the edge of the couch.
"Maybe he was dumped here by a vigilante," Hermione offered to the group, voicing aloud the first reason she could think of as to why Malfoy had appeared at the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. "Someone who knew where to find us."
"You mean, one of us," Kingsley clarified, looking incredulous of and uncomfortable with the idea.
Hermione backed down slightly, pursing her lips together. "Sometimes people do things in desperation. We lost a couple in the last skirmish," she reminded them thickly, her throat closing a fraction as she fought back tears.
It was true. Only a month prior, they had encountered a team of Snatchers—prospective Death Eaters whose only goal was to catch Order members or sympathizers, and present them to Voldemort. They had avoided capture, killing both of the men. But they had lost Dennis Creevy and Padma Patil in the skirmish. Kingsley glowered in her direction and Hermione shrank slightly under his scrutiny. "You are accusing your fellow comrades of something rather severe, and I suggest that idea doesn't leave this room."
Harry shot Kingsley a dirty look before he sighed down at Malfoy's half-naked frame. "We need to move him away from here. Get him to St. Mungo's."
"If I bring him into the hospital, it will hit the Daily Prophet before daybreak," Kingsley told them.
"We should bring him to the Compound," Andromeda stated confidently. "The house appeared to him for a reason. We need to hear his side."
"You are biased by your relation," Hermione argued, placing her hands on her hips.
"She's right, Hermione," Harry said gently. "Think of everything he could potentially tell us."
"And you think he'll just go spilling all of His darkest secrets?" she asked, avoiding saying Voldemort's name for fear of setting off the Taboo.
"Aren't you the one who wanted to bring him in and save his life?" Remus questioned, running a hand over his face.
"I didn't want him to die," Hermione stated matter-of-factly, suddenly feeling foolish as her warring emotions were openly questioned.
"When he wakes, we will interrogate him. If we have to, we can keep him tethered," Kingsley decided.
"Shackled? Like an animal?" Andromeda demanded, outraged as she rose from the couch.
"Can we just get him to the Compound? We can discuss this as a group tomorrow," Molly suggested. "Everyone is exhausted."
"Hermione, Harry, place a hand on him and we'll apparate together. To the oak tree," Remus suggested.
Feeling uneasy with the decision to harbor him, even though she had been the one to suggest saving him initially, Hermione placed her hand on Malfoy's shoulder.
"On three," Remus suggested.
"Three," Harry said quickly, and they were gone.
When they landed, they were in the middle of a field in the Scottish Highlands, blanketed in fresh snow. Thunder rumbled in the distance, announcing a coming rainstorm that promised to wash away the white cover. Malfoy's body levitated over the ground as Remus carved the ancient runic symbol for 'moon warrior' into a knot on the oak tree. He drew his wand across his palm, bringing a pearl of blood forth and placed it over the rune. The knot in the tree began glowing a faint blue and before them, as a mirage being uncovered, rose the Compound.
The three levitated Malfoy to the front door, and Harry suggested they could put him in his bed. He offered, "I'll bunk with Ron. I haven't even had enough time in that room to really unpack, anyway."
Levitating Malfoy down the corridor where the men's rooms were located, they came to a halt at the very last door. Stepping inside, Harry waved his wand around the room and a few loose items packed themselves back into his trunk. Malfoy's hand slid from his bare abdomen and grazed Hermione's elbow. Startled, she looked up to his face; he had not awoken. Lifting his hand from where it had fallen, the witch tucked it back onto his body. The contact with his skin made her uncomfortable now that the threat of him dying had lessened.
"Come on, hurry. This feels creepy," Harry commented, and Remus sighed.
They nestled him into the bed and Hermione turned to go. Remus remarked, "We need to keep watch for when he wakes."
"I'll take first round," Harry volunteered, looking thoroughly agitated at the thought of spending any time in the same room as Malfoy. "I'll try not to hex him until after he wakes up."
"Ron will sit with you," Remus stated in his most authoritative tone, just as Ron bounded down the corridor toward them.
"Oh no, mate. It wasn't my idea to bring him here," Ron protested with conviction. "I'm not babysitting the little ferret."
"Ronald Weasley, you will do as Remus asked of you," Molly scolded as she, too, walked into the room. "I'll be in first thing to check his bandages."
"And what if he does wake? And attacks us?" Ron questioned, frowning at his mother.
"His wand was broken," Molly reminded him, retrieving the two pieces from within her robe pocket.
Ron snapped his mouth shut and plopped down in a chair beside the bed. Harry plucked a paperclip from the desk and transfigured a second chair. Both boys looked comically sullen at their task, and Harry leaned forward and scrubbed a hand over his face. Hermione took one last look of their unwelcome guest before following Remus and Molly out, feeling heavy and nauseous.
"Why don't you go and get cleaned up, dear?" Molly suggested, putting an arm around her shoulders and hugging her to her side.
Hermione suddenly felt as though her legs would give out. The last of her adrenaline was wearing off and exhaustion set in. She looked down and saw that her wrists and arms were still caked with blood and she murmured a weak agreement. As she made her way to the bathroom, her legs felt as though they were made of lead while she trudging through the mud. Her heartbeat had slowed only minimally.
When she closed the door behind her, she leaned against it for a brief moment. A stifling heat began to settle over the witch, and the vomit that had threatened her earlier rose in her throat, and finally spewed forth. Hermione retched into the toilet, her stomach roiling nauseatingly. True terror began to set in as she thought about how stupid it was that they had a high-ranking member of Voldemort's inner circle resting in their home. They were going to be retaliated against. More people would die unnecessarily, because they had not just let him die.
When she was finished retching, Hermione went to the sink and ran cool water. A glance in the mirror showed her that she looked like something out of a nightmare. Her arms were covered in Malfoy's blood, save the hands that had dipped into the healing bath when she had placed his arm into it. At some point, she could not remember when, she must have touched her face, as there was a crimson trail there. What had begun as a compassionate moment on the porch outside of Grimmauld Place, an underlying drive to keep him alive, had quickly morphed into a heavy disgust, anguish, and sheer horror. She peeled her clothes off quickly, lighting them ablaze once they were in a pile on the floor.
Turning on the taps, she climbed into the shower without giving the water time to warm. The icy stream hit her and immediately, sucking the air from her lungs. She had fought in more than one battle alongside other Order Members, watched others die, performed healing spells on her friends and family. Paranoia set in and so did guilt, as every possible scenario came to the front of her mind. This was Voldemort's way of luring them in. They were planning an attack, and they knew where the Order was.
She scrubbed her skin raw, washing away the blood, long-sullied with Dark Magic, as though just the contact would suddenly taint her. Once water finally grew hot, it became apparent that she had begun crying, only she could not tell where her tears stopped and the shower began. She hoped, with every ounce of her being, that by saving Draco Malfoy's life, she had not brought about all of her friends' deaths.
o-o-o
a/n: another heartfelt thank you to HeartOfAspen for extending her betaing skills and assisting on this chapter.
