Chapter 46: Pawn Game

And then they were back at the Death Eater launch point. Now the air in the chamber was thick with the heat of sweating bodies and the panting of breaths. The stenches of ozone and sulfur, bodies dead and alive, and scorched cloth would have been horrific and overwhelming in Hermione's human form, but in her fly form they were only a distraction.

The other Death Eaters were all clustered together near the table, making use of the towels and water and supplies there, and Malfoy had to shove between them to find the place where he could get rid of his portkeys and wand. As before, they hushed dramatically as they realized he'd returned, but this time it wasn't a complete silence. Not by far.

And this time there was a body on the floor nearby, one robed in a Death Eater's robes and without any sign of damage – aside from being dead of course.

The name "Danager" was audible over and over again among the whispers, and they kept glancing back in Malfoy's direction.

Malfoy unloaded his remaining Death Eater items into their hollows on the table, making the collection complete. The moment the last object fell into place, everything vanished in identical puffs of smoke.

Death Eater security. If something was not returned, and its loss was not authorized, all would be able to see.

Malfoy didn't seem to want to stay among the others long enough to make use of the amenities on the table. He half-glanced down at the body, but his eyes slid away before making contact. He hurried past it on a beeline to the statue of Voldemort.

Since Hermione had last seen it, the statue had been defaced by blood smeared all over its outspread hands. Hermione realized it must be blood from the Muggles who had been killed by the Death Eaters a short time before.

Malfoy passed his hands through the air over the statue's, symbolizing the wiping off of gore onto them the way the others must have done literally. Then he knelt and kissed its feet, supporting himself against its base. His own hands, Hermione saw now, were trembling. It was easy to see when they were spread pale against the dark stone. She wondered if he did feel anything of the horror of what he'd done, or if it was a simple physical reaction to the exertion of the fighting, a release from the danger of the raid. Or maybe nerves at the upcoming confrontation with the others about what'd happened to Danager.

For it did seem they were waiting for him to be finished. Clustered around the table, they stared at him with a malevolence that was difficult to miss. A couple of them looked as if they wanted to curse him from behind as he knelt there, and yet nobody dared. Maybe because the surrogates made a clean kill impossible, or maybe because they could never quite be sure he didn't carry a hidden wand to defend himself. Or perhaps he really did have powerful protection from either Voldemort or the Inner Circle, and attacking him that near to the statue was foolish.

Malfoy picked up one of the candles that was still unlit and held it to one of the others until it caught, then placed it near to the statue's feet. Hermione could hear the Death Eaters breathing as he hesitated, and then picked up the candle again and placed it a little nearer. Then he adjusted a couple other candles.

"Enough!" snapped somebody, causing all present to jump. Malfoy darted reflexively to his feet. Once he was there, he had no choice but to turn and reluctantly face them across a stretch of floor. The body of Danager lay between them.

"Well?" demanded someone else. "What have you got to say for yourself?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "About what?" he snapped back.

Their postures, theire relative positions, made it clear Danager was going to be the subject of discussion. Even Hermione could see that. But Malfoy was going to make someone say it aloud. Based on their discussion before the raid, Hermione knew many of them feared being caught in a one-on-one duel with Malfoy if they accused him and everybody else failed to support the accusation. She was pretty sure Malfoy was hoping nobody would dare open their mouth now. It had probably worked in the past.

"You killed Danager," said a third Death Eater at last, his voice accusatory. "Don't bother trying to deny it."

Now that it was finally out in the air, the group of Death Eaters firmed up their stances, sure in their having been wronged. The gamble had paid off; the one who'd spoken did have the others' support. There wouldn't be any way Malfoy could duel or intimidate his way out of this now. Malfoy's pale eyes flicked over them, and Hermione could see him coming to the same conclusion.

"It wasn't my idea," said Malfoy at last. He was going for belligerent, but he sounded defensive. Damage control was likely to be the goal now.

"No, you couldn't afford for it to be your idea, could you?" demanded a Death Eater.

"I don't see why you're all so surprised," snarled Malfoy. "He did try to hex me last week. And during a raid no less. And then he had the gall to claim it was an accident!"

"Oh, I'm sure he wasn't trying to hit you on purpose," began Amexia Brandt.

Hermione felt gut-level that the fellow probably had been trying. Who wouldn't try to kill Malfoy, given what appeared to be a clear opportunity?

"He did hit me," said Malfoy. "Or would have, if I hadn't heard it coming and gotten off a Deflecto."

"But –"

"You people really ought to care more for my well-being," said Malfoy. "If it wasn't for me – "

"Once we have an animagus, the Dark Lord won't need you anymore," said a Death Eater. "And Wilcox and Stanleigh are both on the verge of figuring out how."

Hermione realized that the business with the Animagus scouts really was the Death Eaters' plan to eliminate their dependance on him. It knocked him back on his heels this time, just as it had when Amexia had mentioned it before. It must have a fair chance of succeeding, because he clearly took the threat seriously.

"If they say they're close, they're lying," said Malfoy at last. He sounded distraught. "You can't finish it learning out of a book. Another Animagus has to show you the rest. Why do you think they want them all registered? And you'll never find one willing to help Death Eaters."

"How do you know we haven't got another one teaching them already?" said Brandt. "You should watch your step, Malfoy. You're going to need us a lot more than we need you, soon."

"If they were stupid enough to tell you they were trying to learn it, that proves they haven't a teacher," retorted Malfoy. "You're all bluffing!"

For the first time, Hermione wondered how much Malfoy had learned about Animagi from Rita Skeeter herself. Had he only been a tool of convenience for her, helping her get to where she could spy on Harry Potter and his friends, or had she actually tried to teach him the transformation?

Just from some of the comments he'd said tonight Hermione was pretty sure he'd at least attempted to study it on his own. You can't finish learning it out of a book was a hard lesson, one that Hermione herself hadn't believed could really be true until she'd tried to learn it on her own. Before Rita Skeeter had come to Hogwarts, and finally provided her with the missing link.

And having received some instruction from Skeeter might explain why Malfoy had never betrayed Skeeter's secret to the Ministry, despite having had plenty of reason to do so. That scandalous piece about Malfoy and Amexia Brandt the Daily Prophet had printed last spring was only the most recent of several disastrous articles Skeeter had written about him over the years. If none of those had driven him to betray her, Hermione figured, nothing would.

Of course, if he were an Animagus himself, he shouldn't have to fear being replaced by those other Death Eaters in his job. Presumably the other Death Eaters would know if he was one, because of the Memoralias Charm. That they didn't was an argument against that idea. Not that it mattered much either way; if Skeeter were captured and forced to reveal the names of every student she'd ever had, he was in trouble whether he'd ever succeeded in the actual transformation or not. It was difficult to prove oneself incapable of a bit of magic, as Malfoy had discovered in St. Mungo's courtyard at Nesbitt's hands.

"Did you have Special Instructions then?" demanded one of the Death Eaters surrounding Malfoy. "Let's see them."

"I'm not going to show you my instructions," said Malfoy, and Hermione thought that such showing must be taboo. It fit with the rest of the Death Eater security precautions that nobody should know one another's plans.

"Oh yes you are," said one of the others. They shifted towards him, all of them, fists tightening and solidarity among them once again. Malfoy managed to avoid giving ground, but glanced nervously back at the statue in apparent hope for a rescue that did not seem to be in the offing.

"All right," he said at last. "I'll show you, but only because you insist. We're not to be showing each other our assignments."

They waited impatiently while Malfoy tried to find the card. Nerves seemed to have affected his memory. Either that, or he was trying to postpone the inevitable as long as possible by fumbling in every pocket in his robes.

Finally, reluctantly, he drew forth the card the statue had given him. He held it out on his hand, message side up, and the others crowded in to see.

There was a moment of silence and intaken breath.

Then the card writhed on Malfoy's palm and turned into a poisonous black asp. Malfoy gasped and dropped it, and everybody jumped back and scrambled to get clear. Mutters of "Jesus," and "get out of the way" and the hasty shuffling of feet accompanied the snake's exit through a hole low along one of the walls.

"Did you see, did anyone see, did it say?" demanded one of them.

"I saw it," said another.

"I saw it too," said someone else. "Special Instructions: Danager."

"I told you," said Malfoy, scrubbing one palm with the other and staring after the snake with a white-rimmed cast to his eyes.

That simple trick, the card turning into the snake, could have been done any number of ways using ordinary magic. But the fact that it appeared to have been done by Voldemort instead clearly struck to the core of these people's fears, putting the religion into them.

Malfoy in particular seemed shaken up by the event. After the others let him alone he retreated to the statue of Voldemort-as-serpent and lurked there, arranging a few extra candles closer to the statue's feet. Hermione decided he did believe in Voldemort. Maybe the many years he'd spent working for Supernatural Relations had made him credulous about such matters, or maybe it was just one more example of the addled beliefs growing up in a pureblood family had lent him. Like luck from rainbows, or the value of palm-readings.

Or the inferiority of Muggles, she thought, feeling a growing rage and frustration.

She would no longer be able to limit herself to business ethics and matters of Batwing and Trelawney. Not now. Now that she'd seen exactly what Malfoy was and what he did, she could not stand by and allow it to continue happening. And that, she found, made her angry. Deeply and powerfully angry in a way that she had been feeling a lot lately, ever since accepting this assignment.

Moreover, she couldn't even give in to impulse and take Malfoy himself down quickly, no matter how much she might like to. Because this situation of her having a way into the Death Eater raids without anybody's knowledge could not be squandered. She and she alone had the power to end these raids forever, if she could figure out how. And it was her moral obligation to do so.

And whether she liked it or not, Malfoy was her unwitting ticket in. She had to keep him alive and free until she was done.

The rest of the Death Eaters left one by one, until finally only Amexia Brandt remained.

Brandt walked over to stand next to where Malfoy was still kneeling. She pulled off her glove and her hand - tiny and clean and impeccably manicured - came to rest on his shoulder. This time, unlike before, it was done gently.

"They're gone," she said. Her voice was different now too, more caring.

Hermione's skin crawled.

Brandt came between Malfoy and the statue again, this time quite deliberately, and knelt down before him. Her hand caressed the side of his face, her pristine curves accentuating the stark elegance of his jawline below the mask.

"You look tired," she said. And it was true – his mouth was drawn, his pale eyes glazed with exhaustion. The demonic slits of his mask made them look smoky and sullen instead, but now that Brandt had said it Hermione could see it too. "You should go home," said Amexia Brandt. "Get some sleep."

"I've things to do yet this morning," he said. "Things that can't be put off."

She leaned forward and kissed him once, gently, on the lips. "You've been working too hard," she said. "You're not made for this. You'll drive yourself to collapse if you're not careful."

"I've done what I had to before," said Malfoy. "When I've had no other choice."

"If you say so," said Amexia. She ran her hands down his black-robed arms, and took his hands in hers. Their hands fitted together perfectly, matched in both proportion and elegance. Unlike his, hers were not covered with battle scars. But somehow Hermione had a feeling that that didn't make Brandt any more innocent than coming back from the raid without literal blood on his hands made Malfoy.

Brandt leaned forward and tried to kiss him again, but this time Malfoy didn't let her.

"In any case you aren't permitted to care if I do," said Malfoy primly, "as we are no longer an item. Or had you forgotten?" He tugged at his hands, freeing his right easily, but he couldn't pull so hard with his left. Not without hurting himself. When she didn't immediately let him go, he let her keep that hand. But his face was turned away, a clear signal that he no longer wished to be near her.

"Rumor has it that is soon to change," said Amexia, squeezing his hand in both of hers. "We're to be together again."

"So you've heard those rumors too," said Malfoy sourly.

"Several times," she admitted. "I've even heard you're building up Batwing just for me."

Malfoy snorted out a laugh. His eyes were on the far side of the room, avoiding the witch clutching his hand. "The rumormongers grow more delusional every day," he said roughly.

Brandt looked somewhat crestfallen at this. "I wouldn't mind," she said after a moment, "if the Circle ordered us together indefinitely."

"Then it's a pity I'm unavailable, isn't it?" said Malfoy. This time he did jerk his left hand free, then climbed awkwardly to his feet. It was clear the physical abuse of the raid had caught up to him, for he moved extremely stiffly. Before, the weight of the heavy combat robes had only made him less graceful and more lunging and aggressive. Now they seemed to bow him down.

"Yes you are available, whether you want to be or not," said Brandt. But he was already turning away toward the shelves of Portkeys. There were only two left, his and another that was probably Brandt's. "You'll have no choice if they order it!" she exclaimed, following after. Hermione wondered if Brandt was actually in love with Malfoy, or if she just wanted his money like all those others. She wondered what kind of person could want either love or money from a wizard who'd just murdered someone she knew in cold blood.

Malfoy shot her a dirty look. "Why don't you try seducing Wilcox or Stanleigh instead?" he suggested. "Sounds like they've been coming up in the world lately, and they may even still have some illusions about you."

He snatched up his one-shot and squeezed it, but nothing happened.

"He doesn't want you to leave yet," said Amexia, glancing back at the statue. "See? He wants us together."

Malfoy placed the bronze sphere back in its bowl, his expression grim.

"You'll have to contribute something once they take over the scouting," said Amexia reasonably. "You wouldn't want to lose your usefulness entirely would, you? It's certain death."

"I won't," said Malfoy shortly.

"Look, even if we don't manage to find a replacement scout, you won't be able to do it for much longer," said Amexia. "Everybody knows it. You've more than lost your edge."

"No I haven't," said Malfoy. But now he smelled of fear.

"I see you've gone back to using the Time Turner," Brandt said. "Has it really come to that?"

After watching Malfoy for three or four days Hermione knew exactly what would happen next. He was tired, he was probably in pain, he had no way to escape the situation and Amexia was pushing him hard on a number of subjects that he found threatening and stressful. It was inevitable he'd turn on her, just as he'd turned on Hermione at the restaurant.

He hid the wrist with the Time Turner behind his back, which was pointless since she'd already recognized it, then spun around to face Amexia, his chin raised and his eyes blazing pale and awful through the slits of his mask.

"Don't forget that I could take your place," he said. "I've done the raid coordination before, and I'm quite good at it."

Brandt looked stricken, and glanced reflexively at the statue of Voldemort again as if it might be getting ideas from hearing this.

"Not as good as I am, not by half," she hissed.

"Just keep telling yourself that," said Malfoy.

"And even if you did take my spot, my family has more than enough money to be valued regardless!"

Malfoy sniffed. "Money from business only," he said. "And potionmaking at that. I'd wager Brandt Dyers would meet its end rather quickly if it lost its account with Batwing."

Brandt's eyes widened. "You wouldn't!"

"I most certainly would, if it suited me," said Malfoy. The bronze sphere that was his Portkey shifted subtly, and Malfoy snatched it up again triumphantly. "Good day, Brandt."

"You bastard!" she yelled, and jerked forward to slap it right out of his hand before he could squeeze it. It dropped to the floor with a clank. "How dare you threaten me! You have a lot of nerve, Malfoy. I'm the only friend you've got in Death Eaters anymore and you know it. And how dare you try to Portkey when I'm not done talking to you!" She followed it with a hard slap directly across the exposed part of his face.

Hermione remembered (with some embarrassment) having throughly subdued him with just such a slap back when they were kids in school. But after all these intervening years, Malfoy was made of much sterner stuff than he had once been. A look of outrage to match hers shot across his face, turned by the mask into something truly terrible. He shoved her away from him and she stumbled backward and fell on her arse.

"Best watch yourself, Brandt," he sneered. "My plans don't include you as my friend or as anything else."

Amexia Brandt just sat there for a moment, staring at him, and he took the opportunity to bend over and retrieve the fallen one-shot from where it'd rolled. Brandt scrambled to her feet looking as if she wanted to launch herself at his back again, but this time she didn't quite dare.

"Bastard!" she hissed again, her own voice shaking with reaction.

But Malfoy only squeezed the one-shot, and then he was gone, leaving Hermione and Amexia Brandt alone in the secret cave.