Chapter 9 - Half-Truths and Lies

The atmosphere seemed tense even before Hermione stepped back into the protective wards around the campsite. Harry and Ron were both up and about, their wands in hand and just barely-contained anger coming off of both of them. Hermione may have caught a swear from one or the other as she approached, but it wasn't until they caught sight of her that the shock on both of their faces really sunk in and gave her time to feel...well, ten times more guilty and worse than she had expected. Now, she almost wished that she hadn't apparated with Malfoy and let things go on so long, and even a reminder that it couldn't be avoided didn't help matters.

"Nice of you to come back," Ron snapped sarcastically, his face red enough to match his hair. "And here I wondered if you hadn't up and quit on us!"

"Stop it, Ron!" Harry retorted, though his face was every bit as angry as his friend's. Since it was Ron who was wearing the locket currently, Hermione knew it must be serious for even Harry to reach his breaking point.

Setting her bag down, Hermione held up her hands in complete surrender. "Calm down, both of you, and just let me explain," she said. Then, reaching out towards Ron, "Come on, let me wear it now."

But Ron made no move to take it off, instead just glaring at her even more intensely.

It was Harry who finally spoke up. "Hermione, what happened? And what made you go off when we specifically agreed that you wouldn't?"

"You lied to us, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed before she got a chance to reply. "Just outright lied to us and left!" His breathing was erratic, and for a while he turned away from her, pacing back and forth and specifically avoiding looking at her. "Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?! You not only put yourself at risk, but me and Harry too! What if you'd been seen and then captured by Snatchers?! Bloody hell, they could've tortured or even killed you by now, and then where would we be?!" He slashed his wand across the air, finally coming to a stop and casting Hermione the darkest look she had ever seen on him. "Isn't it enough that I have to spend every day worrying about my family, and now you make me bloody terrified over what's happening to you?! Do you even care?! You...you bitch!"

Even Harry stared at him wide-eyed now, calming himself down enough to step forward, his own wand raised in surrender and his other hand outstretched. "Ron...give me the locket," he said slowly, his face serious. Hermione was glad to witness his self-control, but at the same time felt her insides twisting up almost to the point of pain at what she was causing Ron to say. On the one hand, it hurt beyond what she was prepared for to hear him say such things, but on the other hand she couldn't help but also blame the locket, trying to remind herself that it was her fault after all, and that Ron was...

This time, Ron did remove the ruddy thing, but instead of putting it in Harry's hand he tossed it onto the ground and did the most immature and anger-prone thing he could've done by stomping on it. Of course, it had no impact and didn't damage the locket in the least, but Hermione still winced at the thought that maybe it might explode and unleash dark magic on them all. However, that wasn't how the locket worked—it was far more adept at corrupting things on the inside, like it had already done to Ron.

That's not true, Hermione, he's still himself. He'll calm down in a minute and then you can talk...

Stepping forward once Ron had stepped back, Hermione picked up the locket and put it on, feeling an uncomfortable shiver once the evil object touched her skin. "Let's just get inside now and I'll explain everything, okay?"

Harry cast her an unconvinced look in equal parts frustration and pain, but complied to what she said. With one more glare, not as bad as the one before, Ron tucked his wand away and also shuffled in after Harry, leaving Hermione to do a quick check over all their wards—just to buy time more than anything—and then hurry in after them.

Once inside, though she cast around for other distractions, there was obviously nothing as important as telling them what had happened, so Hermione had no choice but to cut right to the point.

"I would say I'm sorry for having done it, but I can't," she said, aware on the one hand that it might probably antagonize them further to hear that she didn't regret what had happened, but at the same time unwilling to admit any wrongdoing on her part when she had only been trying to move their search forward. The fact that she had lied to them and snuck out wasn't so much her fault either, as they had practically backed her into a corner by refusing to even listen to her plan.

"At least let me say this before going any further: nothing bad happened to me." Close to bad, but not fully—or, at least, she wouldn't categorize her conversation with Malfoy as "bad", but for now she was only referring to her trip to Diagon Alley. Right now, Harry and Ron probably already thought that she was mental for taking any risk at all and going off alone like that; if she brought up Malfoy, she'd have to backtrack to their first meeting in the woods as well, and retelling the whole thing might make the boys think that she was under the Imperius Curse or something. Besides which...since she still had no idea just how to think of Malfoy, there was absolutely no sure way to explain it and be able to answer the onslaught of questions that Harry and Ron were sure to have.

Hermione didn't like keeping secrets from her friends at all; but, as always, she understood the necessity of doing so, and, as the girl of the group, wasn't quite as open as the two of them about what she was always thinking or feeling. Besides which, Hermione Granger feeling confused was sure to be seen as a bad thing, no matter how she justified it.

"So, the part about my leaving you already know, but basically what I did was go to Diagon Alley in disguise. A few simple charms and a pair of spectacles and I looked like an old hag," Hermione went on. "No one got close, and fortunately I was able to find what I need to make a pensieve with no problem." Ordinarily, Hermione would have been excited to take out all the ingredients and explain their importance, but now didn't feel like the time.

"The reason I stayed so long, longer than I expected in fact, was because I was also looking for a book." She glanced at Harry in particular, looking for forgiveness first in his eyes, as he was more likely to give it than Ron. "I thought I might find something like a copy of that book I read up in our first year, the one that mentioned Nicolas Flammel. It's a book about all significant witches and wizards in history, and I thought that since even if we see the wizard from your vision we might have no idea who he is, the book would be a good reference point to help us on our search."

Harry's features did lighten and his shoulders did relax a bit, but Ron still wasn't convinced.

"So what?" the redhead countered. "Did you find the bloody book or not?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm afraid not. It must be a unique copy to the Hogwarts library. I even tried the street peddlers and there was nothing."

"So in other words, you've wasted time," Ron finished. "Time that you should have spent here, making sure that we're not tearing our hair out over what's happened to you, and helping us figure out what to do next about this bloody Horcrux!"

"Ron, please, enough with the vulgarities!" Hermione snapped. "Look, I promise I won't do it again and nothing happened this time, so what more do you want?"

To both her surprise and Harry's, Ron's face became unusually gentle at this point as he just stared at her, and then finally stood up to leave. "I just want you to be safe, 'Mione. If anything happened to you, I'd—" Then, abruptly, Ron stood up and mentioned that he'd take over guard duty for the afternoon, ducking out of the tent and leaving Harry and Hermione alone.

For a while, both of them were silent, taking in what had just happened. Hermione was surprised and touched to hear such words from a normally awkward and distant Ron; but, on the other hand, she was a bit distracted with everything else going on right now to really give his words the attention they deserved. If he had spoken to her like that only a couple of months before, then maybe now they'd be...

"Well," Harry said, awkwardly scratching his head. "I'm no expert, but I'd say he's close to forgiving you already."

"And you, Harry?" Hermione asked, giving him a small smile. "Do you forgive me?"

Her bespectacled friend grinned. "Just as long as this works and you don't give us any more heart attacks in the future, then yeah."

Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy was due to a somewhat less warm and heartfelt reception at his sudden return, seeing as his destination was Malfoy Manor and his purpose was to replace a duplicate key in his father's office. Coming back again so soon was bound to raise suspicion, especially if Bellatrix happened to see him, but there was nothing for it unless he wanted more problems further down the line with his father discovering that the key was gone.

Looking back, planting a duplicate key would only save him a little time at most, but Draco felt it was a necessary precaution regardless. Truthfully, he didn't foresee any reason why his parents would want to tap into their fortune at Gringotts anytime soon, so hopefully they wouldn't even look for the key and he could put the real copy back once he was through with the list; but just in case they did, Draco had placed a triggering spell on the duplicate (which was extremely easy to do, by the way) so that it would alert him if it was ever removed from its hiding place, buying him a few extra minutes and possibly even hours to come up with something to do.

Again, not that he should have to, since it was unlikely that it ever would be removed.

Walking up the wide pathway to his front door, Draco forced himself to keep his hands at his side so that he didn't finger the key through his robes just to make sure it was still there. He had to be as casual about this as possible, and just...well, pray that no one was around. At this point, especially after what had happened with Granger—which he wasn't going to think about just now—even meeting with his mother seemed an unwelcome prospect, as Narcissa keenly felt when something wasn't right with her son. Granted, nothing had been right with Draco for the past several months, but his mother was sure to see something on his face if things had changed for Draco, whether for better or for worse.

And which of those is the case for Granger? Draco wondered, before stepping into his home and habitually shielding his mind, just in case.

Halfway up the stairs to the second floor, he realized two things: that he oughtn't to have been worried only about Bellatrix, and that his other worry should chiefly have been his father.

For, as fate would have it, Lucius Malfoy was standing even now on the second floor platform, looking down at his son with a mixture of mild surprise, curiosity, and misplaced pride. That last one stung Draco the most, even as his father wrapped his arms Draco in an uncharacteristic hug that he hadn't given him since years before, back in his childhood.

"Welcome home, Draco. So good to see you," Lucius greeted, his voice seeming permanently raspy now. Draco also noticed that he had grown thinner, his dark robes loose on him now, and that besides looking older and ultimately less like himself, there was also the smell of Firewhiskey that lingered on his breath.

Pulling back, Draco forced himself to look at his father directly, though by impulse he would have looked down. "Good to have you home father. I trust your mission went well?"

Lucius's mouth twitched slightly. "Ah, yes," he said after a moment, sounding much too enthusiastic for so basic a question. "Y-yes, I was away for quite a while this time, wasn't I? Missed you when you went back to Hogwarts for your final year. I'm so proud."

That last part was something that he was saying more and more often as the parting to their conversations, a habitual tick that he couldn't seem to get rid of. Before, those words had meant everything to Draco and, like Crabbe and Goyle with their fathers, he had done everything to solicit those same words from his; now though, they had lost all truth of meaning from Lucius, and perhaps lost all meaning for Draco in general, as they were words that he had "earned" only after what he had done to Dumbledore.

If that was what it took, then I'm sorry I ever did want to make you proud, father, Draco had bitterly thought more than once.

Before, in his sixth year, Draco had come close to almost hating his father for what he had gotten the entire Malfoy family into, what he had gotten him into; now though, seeing the shell of a man who was becoming more and more faded and hollow as time went on, Draco felt nothing but pity, and an intense repulse at the idea that he was anything like Lucius. The physical resemblance between father and son had always been prevalent though; Draco feared for it to extend to anything further beyond that.

"So what does bring you home now, my son?" Lucius asked, attempting a small smile. Once, that smile might have been charming, in a cold and aloof sort of way; now, like all of his father's expressions apart from wariness and a dead sort of terror, it looked out of place.

"I need to borrow a book from your office," Draco lied. He was counting on the fact that his father, for all that he owned many books, couldn't be bothered to read them even before the Dark Lord had come back and twisted everything in their lives; once his Hogwarts days were over, it was doubtful whether Lucius Malfoy had ever read a book from cover to cover again.

"A book? What book?" Lucius whispered.

Swallowing down his self-disgust, Draco readily replied, "A book on curses, the sort of things they wouldn't have in the Hogwarts library." Then, for added affect, he managed what he hoped was a menacing smile, though it probably came out looking more like a grimace. "Thought there'd be something interesting to use on the mudbloods."

"Ah, a fine idea!" Lucius exclaimed after a few minutes of silence. "Yes, Draco, always good to see you taking an interest. Yes, good, good!" And then, without another word, the eldest Malfoy turned and left his son to his own devices—noticeably heading down the stairs and towards the wing of the house that held the wine cellar.

Draco felt close to being sick at what he had just said, and the idea that torture was his father's idea of Draco "taking an interest", but at least the lie had gotten him into his father's office and thus took away any suspicion from his presence there. Of course, he wasn't actually going to take out any book on curses, though it was bad enough just knowing that his father did indeed have one (or more) there; it had been a guess, but an accurate one.

Making his way into the office, Draco replaced the duplicate key in its place without issue, and was just about to leave when none other than Narcissa walked in on him.

"Draco," she breathed. As was always the case shortly after Lucius returned from an errand for the Dark Lord, she looked frightened and more on edge than usual, having to skirt around any sensitive topics involving the Dark Lord and yet at the same time comforting her husband and making sure that he was alright. By now, Draco could easily predict the moods of either of his parents based on just the looks of one—as soon as he had seen how his father looked, he knew to expect that his mother would be little better. "I thought you weren't coming home again so soon..."

Ordinarily, with his mother he could be open about everything he was thinking, everything he was feeling. He had even shared his doubts with her last year, after the Dark Lord had told him what his mission was regarding Dumbledore; in response, Narcissa had gone to Severus and even gotten him to take the Unbreakable Vow to help him. In the end, it had been the right choice and had saved Draco from committing a worse atrocity than he had been ready for, but it just went to show how far Narcissa was willing to go for her son. Since then, Draco had said little else to her, afraid that any further thoughts beyond his hesitation to kill for the first time would cast doubt over his entire role as a Death Eater.

For his family's sake, if not for his own, that couldn't happen.

"I came back to get a book on curses," he replied easily. At least, he should stick with the same lie just in case his parents compared notes.

"Curses?" Narcissa asked. "Whatever for?"

Draco walked over to the bookcase nonchalantly and took out one at random. It wasn't so much luck as percentage that the book he had taken out was actually on some form of dark magic. "Interrogation of mudbloods. Anything to further the Dark Lord's plans will require 'creativity' at this point."

He didn't think that his mother was buying into his bloodthirsty act, but if so, she didn't show it. Even if it was unspoken, there was a solidarity between mother and son that just couldn't be challenged by anything, not even the Dark Lord himself. Although his mother would feel more at ease knowing what Draco was actually doing, he couldn't bring himself to tell her. His house or not, Malfoy Manor was no longer a safe place, and the saying "even the walls have ears" went a long way when it came to spies. And that was just it: any Death Eater would easily and gleefully rat out another fellow Death Eater if it meant getting further in the Dark Lord's inner circle. And the Malfoy family, who were at the top of the proverbial chain, were prime targets, however indirectly—Draco couldn't remember anyone stepping up to his father's defense the previous year when he had failed to obtain the prophesy at the Ministry of Magic.

"Draco..." Narcissa said, as he was about to brush past her and get the heck out of there as quickly as possible. "Perhaps you had best remain in Hogwarts in the coming days." Her voice was low, but her tone was urgent. "The Dark Lord will be returning soon. He'll want you to be ready there."

Draco furrowed his brow and barely kept from swallowing back the nervous—and, he might as well face it, frightened—lump in his throat. "We await his...return," he managed to say.

Thankfully, that was all of their conversation that Bellatrix heard as she rounded the corner and came to stand behind Draco.

"Indeed," she breathed, sounding legitimately ecstatic. "It's been far too long and we'll have a lot to report on, won't we, Draco?"

Draco held perfectly still as his aunt circled him, like a vulture circling prey. "I imagine some things will be more welcome news than others, of course." She frowned. "And certain parties will have to be punished..."

"What do you mean?" Narcissa cut in.

Bellatrix pouted, her usual go-to of playing the innocent. "Haven't you heard, Cissy? A group of ours bumped into Weasley's lot earlier today." She hissed. "Seems they got away though, and not one injured among them."

"That is...unfortunate," Narcissa said. And to put it lightly, it was. Arthur Weasley's family had grown notorious as furthering the cause of the underground Order of the Phoenix and, besides their proximity to Potter, Arthur Weasley himself was also a prime target of the Death Eaters for how he had furthered the cause for interacting with muggles. If nothing than for the fact that his ideology contradicted everything the Dark Lord envisioned for the Wizarding World, Mr. Weasley's head and the heads of his family were much sought-after.

"Failure is not 'unfortunate', Cissy," Bellatrix snarled, her face contorting into something ugly and feral. "It's..." She struggled for a word. "Punishable. Yes. I only hope the Dark Lord will allow me to 'correct' how he has been wronged this time."

Now Draco really felt like he was going to be sick, and felt the need to leave more keenly than ever. "I should be getting back now," he managed to choke out. If he stayed any longer, he'd have to endure Bellatrix's love of graphic descriptions, and since he already had a book on curses in hand, he didn't need any more.

Bellatrix grinned, responding to that before Narcissa had a chance to. "Of course, Draco," she said, stooping down and kissing his cheek. "You go back now and be ready for when he returns. There will be much to look forward to." Then, glancing down at his book, she added, "And do be prepared to show off."

With merely a look of goodbye at his mother, Draco strode away. Once outside, he couldn't help but go faster and faster until he was sprinting, ducking into the Vanishing Cabinet and coming out in the Room of Requirement with a gasp.

Throwing the book of curses into the air and then sending it with his wand as far away from him as the large room would permit, Draco then remained standing alone, staring into space. Finally, he dropped his wand and fell to his knees, able to hold back his tears but not his cries of loathing and frustration.

Again. And again. And again.

A/N: Not a cheerful chapter to bounce back on after the Dramione interactions of the last chapter, I know, but there do have to be reality checks in this fic as far as plot-line goes. Also, I really wanted to get some father-son interactions between Lucius and Draco, as that was one of the things I was most intrigued about regarding the Malfoy family in the books and movies, so I included some of that as a starter. I might delve into and explore their relationship a bit more in upcoming chapters, but we'll see where the main interactions go first.

Anyway, as a slight hint of what's coming up in the next chapter, let's just say that from this point on, since we've got Hermione and Draco on 'okay' terms for now, we'll be getting more and more chapters and interactions between the two of them, so stay tuned for that.

Ahem, and, as always, please do follow, favourite, and review to let me know what you think. And again, thank you to everyone keeping up with this story and showing your support!