A/N: Thanks to those who have followed, favorited, and reviewed so far! Hope you continue to enjoy. :)
Just a reminder that this work is rated M for a reason - Lavender's story is pretty dark.
Lucius Malfoy.
The name pounds my brain like a persistent migraine the entire return trip home. Crabbe and Goyle Seniors' conversation might not have been the most intelligent – clearly, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree – but what they said is true: few can rival Lucius Malfoy in terms of loyalty to Voldemort. He'd fallen out of favor with the Department of Mysteries disaster, and of course our escape from Malfoy Manor didn't go over well either, but Lucius had surprised everyone in making up for his mistakes a hundredfold. He barely batted an eye when Voldemort ordered Narcissa executed when it was discovered that she wasn't as devoted to the cause as previously believed, and he killed his own son without a second thought as well. The official story on that one is that Draco turned traitor, but I'm not sure I believe it. The Draco Malfoy I knew wasn't brave by any stretch of the imagination, but he also wasn't stupid; six years of classes together had taught me that, and he'd figured out the complicated magic necessary to repair the Vanishing Cabinet all on his own. No, if Draco had suddenly gotten cold feet, he would've been much more subtle about it – but Lucius was a Malfoy as well, with many more years' worth of practice in Slytherin/Malfoy cunning than his son. I doubt we'll ever know the full story, since of the two people who know the truth, one is dead, and the other is Voldemort's right-hand man, his rank rivaled only by that of Bellatrix Lestrange.
"Malfoy's back in town," Ginny announces as we help our fellow resistance members store the food we've brought.
"Malfoy?" Bill says sharply. "Shite – that can't be good."
"No, it can't," McGonagall agrees. That her professor side doesn't even react to Bill's language is a sign of how serious the situation is. "We'll have to be extra careful."
"Well, whatever he's up to, we know it's no good," Ron says with a scowl. "He's Malfoy." He then looks at me, as if daring me to chastise him for stereotyping. I don't even attempt to restrain my eye roll.
"Ron, you know perfectly well that I agree with you that Lucius Malfoy is pure evil," I snap. Ron just snorts and returns to stocking jam jars. No doubt he's annoyed that I specifically said 'Lucius' Malfoy – in his black-and-white world, all of the Malfoys were/are pure evil, and Draco and Narcissa got what they deserved. In my mind, 'pure evil' is reserved for those who truly deserve it – namely Voldemort, Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Dolores Umbridge. Rarely are people so cut and dry. Continuing the fight is pointless, though, so I don't.
Ron and I…it's complicated. Yes, I'd kissed him when he remembered the house-elves during the Battle of Hogwarts, and I'd fancied myself in love with him from at least sixth year, if not earlier. For one thing, though, the war escalated so quickly that exploring a new relationship was out of the question, and for another, Harry's death proved all too clearly that Harry had been the one keeping us together – without him, Ron and I had next to nothing in common. Ron might not have thrown derogatory names my way like Draco Malfoy had, but he'd still had his fair share of cruel moments, putting me down and making me feel small for being who I was. He'd mocked my intelligence so hard I'd cried, not spoken to me for most of third year when he thought Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, snubbed me again when I'd dated Viktor Krum, used me as a homework machine, abandoned us on the Horcrux hunt without bothering to understand my point of view…I've never forgotten any of those things. Nowadays, we really only interact when on a mission together. It's sad to see a once-solid friendship fall apart, but at the same time, was that friendship ever really so solid in the first place? I still don't know.
"We'll need to send a few scouts in to get the scoop at the rally," Bill continues as I mentally pull myself back to the present. "We know there'll be one, all the big-name Death Eaters do something when they're in town. We need to find out what Malfoy is doing here, and why."
"We should use the opportunity to grab some gold as well," Ginny adds. "Crowds are good for that sort of thing." Stealing purses is necessary sometimes, just in case the goblins ever decide to close us out, and Ginny's right – a rally is a great place to relieve people of their gold without anyone noticing. Some of us have become rather adept pickpockets.
"I'll go," I say at once. Not only am I a good thief, but I have to admit I'm curious about Lucius Malfoy's return. It might be my reckless Gryffindor side winning out, but I want to know what's going on, and I want to be in the thick of it.
"I'll go too," Ron says. I bite back a groan. Ron absolutely should be there – he's by far our best strategist, which is why he's in the London group in the first place, and he should be there to take everything in and start thinking about what to do next. But at the same time, working with Ron is difficult – not because of our history, but because his disguise is so close to his own looks that he might as well not wear one at all. He claims that the Death Eaters overlook him because they aren't expecting any of us to be so bold, but even so, I worry. Keeping hidden is always much more difficult when Ron's around. I'm secretly glad when Bill joins us as our third – his heightened senses will help keep us out of trouble.
"Everyone, keep eyes and ears open for information about this rally," McGonagall commands. "If Lucius Malfoy is anything like the rest, it will be soon."
"He'll want everyone to know he's here," Bill agrees. Thoros Nott had done the same when he'd been stationed here, thrown a big event within forty-eight hours of his arrival…and he's not even half as important as Malfoy.
"Anything you hear, report back immediately," Bill says. "It's about time something happened around these parts, so let's get to it."
Our intel about the rally arrives that very night, in the pocket of one Lavender Brown. Lavender's been gone since this morning, so she wasn't around for our little meeting, but she returns to base looking excited, as if she knows she's got something important. She unseals the hidden pocket on her robes and removes a tape recorder, which she places on the kitchen table.
Lavender's story is horrific, actually. Brutally savaged by Greyback during the Battle of Hogwarts, she barely made it out alive – most of us were convinced she was going to die, she was in such bad shape. Somehow, she managed to pull through, but her throat was damaged beyond repair, and she can no longer speak. It is this loss, however, that makes her one of our most valuable weapons. Despite the silver scars glittering across her throat, Lavender is still quite pretty – even I, who've never really liked her, have to admit that Lavender has always been blessed in that department. Honey-colored hair cascades down her back in effortless waves, big blue eyes dare you to say no, and she's curvy in all the right places. It was Lavender herself who suggested using her looks to our advantage – even Death Eaters are (debatably) human, and most won't hesitate to accept the company of a pretty girl. Understandably, everyone else was horrified at the thought of Lavender whoring herself out for information, but she'd insisted – Who, she'd scribbled on a piece of parchment beneath the outline of her plan, is going to look twice at a mute? She had a point. Her lack of speech left her incapable of doing magic beyond anything she'd mastered nonverbally, so while her scars gave away her magical status (any Muggle attacked as viciously as Lavender had been would have died, no question), she wasn't seen as a threat.
Let me do this, she'd written. I know it will work. So, we'd procured a tape recorder, charmed the batteries to never die, and sewed special non-detectable pockets into all her clothes. And Lavender was right – I've lost track of how many times she's come home with valuable information stored on that cassette. She chooses a victim, does her thing, and soon they're singing like a canary. She insists she's never had to go beyond heavy kissing and some petting to get what she needs before she Stuns and Confounds them (her nonverbal Confundus is strong enough that they often forget she was there at all, and she's been able to visit some Death Eaters repeatedly because of it), but even so, the knowledge of what she's had to do makes me sick and a little bit sad. Lavender and I will never be best friends, but there's no doubt that she's brave.
"Got something for us, Lav?" Ron asks, his tone far too sweet to be casual. I roll my eyes again – how in the world Ron thinks Lavender will ever look twice at him again after the way he so casually ditched her in sixth year is beyond me. If he makes it any more obvious how badly he wants to sleep with her again (and yes, they absolutely did, back in the day), his pants will be around his ankles right here in the middle of the kitchen. I'll pass, thanks.
Lavender, thankfully, ignores Ron's tone and gestures triumphantly to the tape recorder as the rest of us gather around the table. She presses the rewind button and lets the tape do its thing for a minute before stopping and playing back the recording.
"Fuck…you're a feisty one, aren't you, love? Ah, Merlin, yes, right there…" Sounds of what is unmistakably kissing fill the room.
"Mmm…I'm on top of the world, pet, you want to know why? Yes, that's it…aaah…Malfoy's back, which means he's got something good for us. Pompous ass, he is, but…ooooh…having him around means things'll start getting good. I'd love to…fuck!...put some of those shits in their place." More kissing and moaning.
"If you keep that up, love, I'm going to…AH…fuck you right up against this wall, and to hell with whoever sees us…no? Coy little thing, aren't you? Well, you…yessssss…I might have to see you again, pet. Tomorrow, after this to-do of Malfoy's. You'd like that? Good girl…wait for me in St. James's Park, it's right there…" The Death Eater stops speaking then, and there's a thud, followed by the rustling of fabric. Lavender shuts off the recording, looking pleased. The thud must've been the Death Eater falling after she Stunned him.
"Lucius Malfoy would hold his rally right in front of Buckingham Palace," I say with a snort. "The man prances around like a king, so why not present himself like one? Pig." Lavender sends a small smile my way as thanks for starting conversation so quickly, and I nod in return – just because she offered to obtain information this way doesn't mean she has to suffer the rest of us dwelling on it.
"How do you know it's being held at Buckingham Palace?" Flitwick asks.
"Easy," Ron replies. "Saint James's Park is right next door, and it's a pretty recognizable landmark even for the Muggles. No one will be able to miss it." Ron might be a pain in the arse, but one of his biggest strengths is knowing London like the back of his hand, having memorized most of the city through studying maps while helping plan our various moves. Those moves have been small so far, but his knowledge will be immeasurably useful when the time comes for bigger actions.
"He didn't mention a time," Ginny says. "You'll have to prepare to be there for a while."
"Knowing Lucius, he's likely to start at high noon, when loads of people will be around," Bill replies. "But you're right, Gin. We'll have to camp out early to be safe."
"We'll be fine," I say. "Enough people have heard about the rally by now that there will be a crowd early on, so hiding won't be a problem."
Talk then turns to provisions, strategy, and the like. Our scout team increases from three to four when we decide that Lavender should come as well – not to meet the Death Eater, of course, she's definitely not doing that – but to record Malfoy's speech and anything else important. Bill, Ron, and I are capable of listening, of course, but we'll be preoccupied with stealing gold and not getting caught. Lavender can just blend into the crowd and watch, and as a bonus, we'll all have the recording for later, in case one of us misses something in the moment. That settled, we disperse for the rest of the evening.
The next morning, Bill, Ron, Lavender and I are scattered throughout the area around Buckingham Palace by 9:00am. My guess turns out to be right – there are plenty of people already milling about, so it's easy to slip in and become one of the crowd.
Bill's guess also turns out to be right, as we end up standing around for nearly three hours before anything happens. Nearby bells chime the hour, and as soon as the twelfth toll sounds, a carriage – an honest-to-Merlin carriage – rolls down the street. It could very well be one of those previously belonging to the royal family, but I don't know enough to be sure. All I know is that the horses pulling the carriage are the finest I've ever seen, snow white from head to toe, decorated with flowers, and, it goes without saying, only the purest of blood. Lucius Malfoy would never settle for anything less.
And speaking of Lucius Malfoy…the man himself sits in the carriage, haughty and arrogant as ever. He is, of course, dressed to the nines in that way that only the very rich can manage, surveying the crowd with that patented Malfoy smirk. The carriage rolls to a stop, and the driver, a mousy-haired young man roughly my age, hops down to open the door. Lucius exits the carriage with far more grace than anyone has a right to and ascends the platform erected in front of the palace gates, stepping up to the podium. My vantage point isn't the greatest – we made sure Lavender was closest to the podium, since she's the one with the tape recorder – but I'll still be able to hear just fine. Sure enough, Lucius taps on the microphone, the sound booming through the assembled onlookers.
"Good afternoon," he says smoothly, "and thank you for the warm welcome. Our Lord has requested my presence in London for the foreseeable future, and I trust that I will have your utmost cooperation. It is my goal to ensure that life continues to operate as smoothly as possible…" Lucius speaks for a few minutes more but says nothing of import, concluding that he would see those with tickets at tonight's banquet before stepping down to tumultuous applause. (Only the assembled Death Eaters and their supporters are really clapping for Lucius, of course, but even the Muggles have learned that in this regime, you applaud the person in charge if you want to live, and Lucius has left no doubt in anyone's minds as to who's now in charge in London.)
Disappointed in the lack of anything informative in the speech, I begin moving through the crowd, lifting purses as I go while simultaneously listening in on the surrounding chatter and searching for the rest of my group. In an emergency, we flee the scene no matter what, but if we can, we travel in pairs for safety. I spot Ron first, his charmed hair so close in color to his natural vivid red that he's easy to find, and I'm shocked and dismayed to find him deep in conversation with a young blonde woman – we're supposed to stay hidden! My frown deepens when I see his face. He's gazing at this unknown woman in awe, looking like he'd do absolutely anything she asked of him. Shit. Could he be any more of an idiot?
There's nothing for it. I march forward purposefully as if looking for someone, pretend to see Ron for the first time when he's close enough to hear me, and say, "There you are! Did you forget we're visiting Mum today? She'll never forgive us if we're late." I turn to the blonde. "So sorry to interrupt, but Mum's a monster when it comes to punctuality. You'll excuse us, won't you?" Without waiting for a reply from either of them, I drag Ron into the crowd. Thankfully, he is close enough to a statue that it's easy enough to pull him behind it, activate the emergency Portkey attached to my belt, and disappear. Ron starts to fight me the moment we land in an alleyway across the street from our home base, but my anger prevails, and I swiftly drag him inside.
"What were you thinking?" I hiss. Ron glares at me.
"What the hell, 'Mione?" he snaps. "We were just talking!"
"About what? We're not supposed to draw attention to ourselves unless it's absolutely necessary!" I shoot back.
"What's going on?" Bill emerges from the kitchen, obviously having returned before us.
"'Mione dragged me back here for no reason!" Ron says.
"Your idiot brother decided CHATTING UP A GIRL was a good idea just now!" I practically shout, incensed that Ron would dare put the blame on me. I shouldn't be surprised, but I'm still mad as hell.
"Just because you're not getting any-"
"Oh sod OFF, Ronald!" I snap. "This has nothing to do with me and you know it!"
"Hermione, calm down!" Bill says, placing a hand on my shoulder. I want to throw the hand off, but I know Bill is fair, so I wait. "What were you talking about with this girl?" he asks.
"Nothing important!" Ron insists. "We were just chatting!"
"For how long?" I ask. "You were fully immersed in conversation when I saw you, which doesn't happen straight away, and it took me several minutes to get through the crowd to where you were. And yet you can't tell us a thing that you said to this girl!"
"I don't remember, alright?" Ron snaps. "What the fuck does it matter, anyway?"
"It matters a great deal, Ron," Bill says, suddenly stern. "You clearly talked to this girl for several minutes at least, and yet you can't tell us anything you said. You could have told her anything."
"But I didn't!" Ron says.
"You don't know that for sure," Bill replies. Ron throws up his hands in disbelief.
"Fuck off, both of you! We were just talking, Merlin…" He storms out of the room.
"That is going to be a problem," I say, looking at Bill. He nods.
"It very well could be. We know Ron's easily distracted by a pretty face, but he's never done something so reckless before. We can't afford to have Lavender in reverse."
"Speaking of, where is Lavender?" I ask, glancing around the kitchen.
"She was going to stay back for a bit, see if she could record anything useful," Bill tells me. "She operates alone so often that I knew she'd be fine – that, and the senses, of course." Lavender, like Bill, had gained heightened senses and strength after Greyback's attack, so she is able to sense danger before the rest of us and get to safety with ease. She is also like Bill in that she doesn't transform at the full moon, which is a blessing since wolfsbane potion is nearly impossible to come by.
As if in response to our thoughts, the door opens and Lavender walks in. Looking annoyed, she drops the tape recorder on the table and shakes her head.
Nothing, she scribbles on her ever-ready parchment. I recorded the speech, so we've got that, but nothing anybody had to say was worth hearing after that. I wandered through the crowd for ages.
"It's alright, Lavender," I say. "We know that most of the important stuff will happen at tonight's banquet, which we'll unfortunately miss since it's invite-only. The speech at least tells us that the Death Eaters are planning something big for London sometime soon – they wouldn't station someone as important as Lucius here indefinitely if that wasn't so."
"Hermione's right," Bill says. "We might have guessed that yesterday, but now we know for sure, and we can prepare. At the very least, we can make sure our supplies are well stocked and that we've planned for any number of outcomes. It's not much, but it's better than nothing." Lavender sighs but nods, accepting the situation for what it is.
All the same, as I'm preparing for bed that night, I can't help but wonder if Ron's actions today did any unseen damage. I didn't recognize the blonde woman, but I didn't have much chance to get a good look, either – she could be anyone, and that is an exceptionally dangerous truth.
A/N: Quick note on Ron - I did not write this as a Ron-bashing fic; in fact, I rather like Ron. He does, however, make his fair share of mistakes (they all do), and this definitely isn't the first time he's been bamboozled by a pretty girl. As Hermione said, they really don't have a lot in common when you remove Harry from the equation - throw a war into the mix, and it doesn't seem too far-fetched that their friendship might become strained.
The mystery girl will return very soon...
