Livin' On A Prayer

by Bon Jovi

She says, "We've gotta hold on to what we've got

It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not

We've got each other and that's a lot

For love we'll give it a shot."

Chapter Six

In a large cold room lined with pickled animals in glass jars, Hermione stood several cauldrons containing different potions in various stages of preparation. Their potion stores were easily depleted. They would run out of Pepper-Up potion first. Various healing potions also had to be sent up to the Hospital Wing on a monthly basis. The Dreamless Sleep potion was also in demand. Most of the muggle-borns they had rescued had undergone different degrees of torture. They often requested for Dreamless Sleep potion, although Madam Pomfrey was strict on the frequency of intake. As a victim of torture herself, Hermione had a dependency on the potion as well. She knew that the nightmares of the crazed woman who had her under the cruciatus curse and had carved away at her skin would never go away.

She had taken it upon herself to brew potions for everyone in the castle. Hermione felt like her time was better used brewing potions than research work. Ginny had asked her if she was really Hermione Granger and not someone else under the Polyjuice Person. As much as Hermione loved the library, this was war. She wanted to be out on missions with her friends. She wanted to put everything she had learned and studied to good use. All the research she was doing in the library was fruitless. At least by brewing potions, she was actually helping.

A clear, colorless, and odorless potion sat in the center of a table in the Potions classroom. Hermione ladled some of the liquid into a small vial. After eyeing the potion in the light making sure all the properties were correct, Hermione exited the Potions classroom with the vial in hand.

Ever since Kingsley and McGonagall had to resort to painfully breaking into the mind of their Death Eater spy to determine his loyalty to Voldemort, Hermione had started to brew Veritaserum in the event that they needed to interrogate more people. She was glad for her decision to do so. Ron had arrived last night with Pansy Parkinson in tow. Hermione had yet to see her former classmate and bully. Charlie, after telling her everything that happened during the rescue mission at Hermione's demand, had informed her that Kingsley wanted her to bring a bit of the truth serum to his office. If they were going to be housing Parkinson in Hogwarts, they had to make sure that she had no intention of exposing their passageway to Death Eaters.

Hermione entered the Slytherin common room. Beside him, Bill, Charlie, and Ron were sitting on a sofa near the fireplace. They had grim expressions on their faces. Across the Weasleys, Kingsley had a pleasant expression on his face as he sat behind his desk. McGonagall stood behind him eyeing a pretty dark-haired witch who was lounging on a large green wingback chair in the middle of the room.

"Ms. Granger." Minerva acknowledged Hermione's presence.

Hermione handed the vial to Kingsley. "Here, as you requested." As the Order leader carefully placed three drops of Veritaserum to a cup of tea, Hermione turned to face the witch who had insulted her on various occasions during their time in Hogwarts, "Parkinson."

Parkinson merely raised a brow in response, her face cold and indifferent. Hermione observed that the witch was wearing a pearl-colored silk nightdress that was burnt at the edges. She also noticed that Parkinson's arms were covered in burns that looked too old to have been the result of last night's fire. She smiled at the Weasleys and sat down on the space beside Bill.

"Shall we begin?" McGonagall asked.

The dark-haired witch nodded slowly. She accepted the teacup the former Transfiguration offered her.

After waiting for a few minutes for the truth serum to take effect, Kingsley began. "We should start with a question to test whether the potion works."

They all looked at each other. They do not seem to have any personal questions to ask that Parkinson would not, under normal circumstances, be willing to divulge. Aside from insults exchanged in between classes, they do not really know the witch.

Suddenly, Hermione was able to recall Parkinson missing a day of classes during their fifth year. "After Fred and George Weasley's departure from school, you got hit by a spell that altered your appearance. Can you tell us what the spell's effect was?"

Before Parkinson could filter her words, she began to blurt out a response. "A pair of antlers began growing from my head." Parkinson turned to shoot Hermione an irritated glare.

Satisfied that the potion was working, Kingsley addressed the witch in front of him. "Ms. Parkinson, did a Death Eater approach you and revealed that he was working for the Order?"

"No." Kingsley nodded. He had expected her response. Due to the magical agreement, Kingsley would have been informed if the spy told anyone. That and the fact the spy's tongue would begin to numb. Depending on the level of betrayal, the spy's muscles and organs would begin to shut down. Physically, he would not be able to move. Internally, he would feel pain. The graver the betrayal, the worse the pain would be. The magical agreement's grey magic bordered more on the dark side of the spectrum. The spy had refused to sign the contract unless Kingsley added a clause that would also give him a painful end if he betrayed the spy. They performed an Unbreakable Vow in the forest where they first met, but the written magical agreement allowed both parties further specifications when it was decided that the spy would be risking more for information and that he required a price in exchange.

"No Death Eater approached you and revealed that he was working for the Order, but you have your guesses on the identity of our spy. Am I correct?" Kingsley asked.

Parkinson smirked. "Yes."

Kingsley continued, "Why did you refuse to become a Death Eater?"

"I have no interest in killing and torturing people to please him. I saw what serving the Dark Lord did to my father and what it is doing to my friends. As a pure-blood, I believe I am well-versed with the old customs of the wizarding world. Customs that muggle-borns do not respect. I have never met a muggle-born that I liked and I have never even talked to a muggle, but even I know that killing them for simply existing is wrong. My mother would not have wanted me to become a mindless follower." Parkinson scowled, clearly unhappy with being unable to stop the honest bubble of responses that came from her throat.

The people seated on the sofa stared at Parkinson in surprise. As if sensing what they felt, Parkinson looked back at them over her shoulder and spat, "I still despise Granger, of course."

Ron stared at Parkinson, "Because she's a muggle-born?"

Parkinson struggled against the effects of the potions for a moment. Whatever she was about to say, she really did not want them to hear. "No, I dislike her because she's an annoying know-it-all swot that strutted around school with a stick in her arse." She breathed out. "Also, in the fourth year, it took me hours to get ready for the Yule Ball. I even had my robes shipped from Paris. But all the boys did not even spare me a glance because of her! Not even my own date." She let out a frustrated scream, "Fucking hell, Weasel! Can you stop it with the stupid questions!"

To be fair, the potion was making Parkinson reveal all her dark insecurities that were the source of her deep dislike towards Hermione. Considering the existence of the Dark Lord, Hermione knew that although that might have held true during the fourth year, Parkinson might have already grown out of those petty teenaged feelings. Still… She always thought that every insult thrown at her was mainly because of her being a muggle-born. It does not mean that she would be friends with Parkinson but it could mean that a civil relationship might be possible.

"Why did our spy ask us to save you from being marked?" Kingsley tried to resume his control over the interrogation.

Parkinson gritted her teeth. "I. Don't. Know."

Kingsley smiled at her, "Why do you think our spy asked us to save you?" The former auror's smile grew at the glare he received for his question.

"I think that the spy wanted to spare me from the pains of being a Death Eater."

McGonagall looked thoughtful, "Are you loyal to the Dark Lord?"

"No."

"Who are you loyal to?"

"Myself." Figures, Hermione thought to herself.

Kingsley and McGonagall asked more questions. Hermione's thoughts began to wander on the identity of their spy. She was almost sure it was Malfoy.

"If we allow you to stay here, would you be able to behave yourself, Ms. Parkinson?" McGonagall asked. "I know that the animosity between the Gryffindor and Slytherin House goes beyond the walls of the classroom."

"Yes," Pansy said seriously.

Kingsley shifted in his seat. "Ms. Parkinson. In the event that a battle breaks out again, can we trust you to not turn your wand against us? Can we trust you to help our side in our time of need?"

After a moment, Pansy whispered. "Yes."

"That's very comforting to hear, Ms. Parkinson, but would you be willing to swear that under an Unbreakable Vow?"

Parkinson and Kingsley performed an Unbreakable Vow. McGonagall acted as the officiator. A thin tongue of brilliant flame flowed from her wand. The red-hot wire wound around Pansy's burn-covered arms. When the vow was completed, Kingsley stood and faced Hermione.

"I am placing Ms. Parkinson under your care for the meantime, Ms. Granger."

Great.

Harry eyed the young Death Eater sitting across from him in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. Mrs. Malfoy had suggested that the formers classmates should sit down and chat. Once he was able to calm down, Malfoy had told Narcissa that they should throw Harry out in the streets. Harry had said that maybe they should obliviate the little ferret instead.

In the end, Mrs. Malfoy had convinced them to spend the afternoon together drinking tea. Harry had felt self-conscious and humiliated when the elder witch had to levitate him down the stairs. With a burning face, he had risked a look at Malfoy, he had expected him to jump at the chance to insult the state of his body. To Harry's surprise, Malfoy had on an impassive mask. Harry decided that he should try to talk to Malfoy. He was in Voldemort's ranks and he knew more than Mrs. Malfoy who hardly goes out into public anymore.

Harry had always thought that Narcissa, sister to Bellatrix, wife to a Death Eater, and the woman who bore his childhood nemesis, would be cruel and a devout Voldemort supporter. She was not any of those things, Harry had realized. She was a mother who was trying to protect her child. Like how his own mother, Lily Potter had. Harry had grown to respect Narcissa. She had survived months of having Voldemort living under her roof and having to watch his son be tortured on a daily basis. Now, she was trying to get Harry back to the Order, at the risk of her own life, for the minuscule chance that he would still be able to defeat Voldemort in his condition, all for her son.

Glancing at his watch, Harry noted that almost an hour has passed since they sat down. He realized that he had to be the one to offer the olive branch.

"Malfoy."

Malfoy stared at him.

"Look. I'm sorry I hit you with the sectumsempra curse in sixth year." Harry said.

Malfoy's brow rose. A few seconds passed.

"I appreciate you coming back for us. When we were in the Room of Requirement." Malfoy said quietly.

"You recognized me, even though my face was distorted. Back in Malfoy Manor." Harry said tentatively.

Malfoy's brow rose higher.

"That's a conversation for another time, Potter."

Harry nodded. He knew that this was only a temporary truce. Years of fighting and frustration would not go away from just a few handful of words tossed over the dining table, but it will have to do for now.

Harry needed Malfoy.

"I heard you're on your way to rising to the top of Voldemort's ranks."

Malfoy's stony exterior gave away nothing.

"Your mother seems to be under the impression that you are not a willing Death Eater to your Lord." Green eyes stared into grey.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Malfoy responded slowly. "Everything I have done, I have done out of my own volition."

"So you're saying that you are loyal to Voldemort?" Harry asked. Narcissa was convinced that her son was only serving Voldemort because of constant threats to their lives. Harry might believe that to be true in sixth year up until the Battle of Hogwarts, but he was not so sure now. Narcissa, in her worry, had once let it slip that Malfoy was being preferred by Voldemort. Assigning him on special missions and personally training him.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "I am the Heir of the Malfoy House, Potter. Pure-blood customs may mean nothing to you, but I am loyal to my family."

"I need you to get a message to the Order."

Malfoy's face tightened.

"Well, since you asked, Potter. I'm sure that if I manage to get through their impenetrable wards, and if they don't kill me on the spot, that they would be eager to believe me when I say that the Boy-Who-Lived lives." Malfoy drawled.

He needed Malfoy, Harry reminded himself.

"You'll find a way." Harry took a deep breath. "I know you'll do anything for the safety of your Mother."

"You being here. Risks her safety." Malfoy stood up and began fastening the buttons of his cloak. "I am not your bleeding Order. I fall to knees to do whatever you want, Potter." He headed for the door.

"She lied to Voldemort for you, did you know?"

Malfoy stopped. He already had his back to the dining table. He did not turn back to face Harry, but he also did not attempt to exit either.

"Voldemort ordered her to check if I was alive. She knew I was. I was unconscious for most of it but I felt it when she used legilimency to check my memories to see if you were alive. When she found out you were, she lied Voldemort."

"She told me why she did it. Why she lied," Harry continued. "She wanted a better life for you, she said. She said it was her fault you were marked. She said if she had just the courage to leave with you to keep you safe, you would not be where you are now. Groveling at the foot of some overlord."

"Fucking no, Potter!" Malfoy spun and stared at Harry. He looked murderous. "They would have killed us all if I had refused. Even if we had gone away. Even if we had fucking ran off, he would have found us and killed us. I did not have a choice and neither did she!"

"I know that." Harry calmly held his stare. "But you have a choice now, Malfoy."

Silence.

"What will your choice be?"

Hermione walked along Hogsmeade.

She had told Ginny that she needed to buy more supplies in Diagon Alley. Truthfully, she just wanted a break from babysitting a sulking Parkinson. The Slytherin was not being antagonistic, in fact, she was not being anything at all. She refused to talk with anyone. Granted, people would shoot her dirty stares and insult her. Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna had sat beside Hermione and Parkinson during meal times. Although the Gryffindors did so out of their duty to show that Parkinson is not the enemy, Luna seemed to actually like speaking to the dark-haired witch, even if all she got was blank stares in response.

After an afternoon in the library, with Parkinson sitting silently and sullenly beside her, Hermione decided she needed an escape.

She had cast a disillusionment charm and found herself walking towards the woods near the Hogsmeade Station. It was risky. There were lower rank Death Eaters stationed at certain points around Hogwarts wards, she knew. However, Hermione had confidence in her magical abilities. She knew she would stay invisible for as long she wanted and that if one of the Death Eaters spotted her, they were most likely to be unmarked and unable to call Voldemort. She could easily stun them.

When she stepped past the station, Hermione felt like she was being drenched under a waterfall. Hermione rubbed at her dry skin. She could almost swear someone doused her with a blast of aguamenti over her head. It felt familiar. The feeling. It felt almost like the Thief's Downfall.

Thief's Downfall!

That's impossible, Hermione thought. The Downfall was an actual physical waterfall. Its waters had rare magical properties that wash away all enchantment, all magical concealment. Unless… someone was able to replicate that magic into a charm that caused any unauthorized person entering the perimeter of a certain area to be revealed.

Pop.

A pop of apparition.

Suddenly, pops of apparition can be heard all around her. Three…. Four…. Five Death Eaters were surrounding Hermione. She looked down and saw, to her dismay, that whatever magic she had stepped into ended her disillusionment charm.

With a gasp, she threw the strongest protego charm she had ever cast and ran deep into the forest. Four spells hit her shied and the strength of the combined spells blasted it apart. Three of the spells were green.

While she running, Hermione formulated a plan. She did not want to lead the Death Eaters into Hog's Head. That means she has to either hope they would get tired of chasing her or stun them all so she could escape.

A green light shot past her ear.

She ducked under a branch of the tree. She could see three of the Death Eaters hot on her trail.

Panting, Hermione decided she was not going to outlast them by running.

Hermione took a deep breath and turned to face the three dark-robed figures running towards her.

She transfigured the twig she had stepped on into a massive boulder. Standing on top of it, she threw a stunning spell at her nearest attacker. It missed. The Death Eater tried to shoot a spell that would knock her off her boulder. She flicked it away with her wand. She sent a spell flying towards the Death Eater, this time it hit, setting his robes on fire. The man screamed and Hermione was able to stun him. He fell over, unconscious. Hermione bound him with a spell but left his robes flaming.

Hermione turned and saw the other two Death Eaters were closer now.

She dodged an evil-looking purple jet of light but had to jump off her boulder to escape a green light that narrowly missed her shoulder.

Rolling on the ground, she grabbed a rock and threw it in one of the Death Eater's direction, hoping it would hit. It did, judging by the sickening thud she heard. She stunned the fallen Death Eater.

Her wand flew from her hand.

She snapped her head at the Death Eater who now had her wand.

Before the Death Eater could move, Hermione lifted her hands and concentrated on the magic thrumming within her. She had been practicing her wandless magic for months. When they were on the Horcrux Hunt, the extent of her wandless magic was being able to levitate objects and cast a wandless expelliarmus. Now, she was able to some basic duel moves with a wand.

Hermione closed her eyes and sent a stunner to the third Death Eater. As the Death Eater fell over, so did Hermione.

She knew there were two more Death Eaters, but she had to run. Not having built up the stamina for wandless dueling yet, Hermione was exhausted.

Despite the cool wind, she was sweating profusely. Her damp curls stuck on the back of her neck. Her brown sweater was tattered and covered in grime. She tried to cast a disillusionment charm over herself but the deterring magic around the forest did not allow her to do so.

She forced herself onto her feet and started running.

Hermione had almost thought that the two Death Eaters had given up when she hit a hard body.

She lost her balance. Unexpectedly, two arms shot out to grab her. She knew they meant it to keep her from running but she was glad she did not topple over.

Hermione struggled against the tight hold.

"Granger."

She froze.

Hermione could not tell who was behind the mask, but judging from the voice, this Death Eater was around her age. Young.

The two arms that held her let her go.

Hermione ran as fast as her legs would carry her away from the Death Eater. Glancing behind her, she saw as another Death Eater broke through the trees and stopped behind the one that had let her go. She heard the Death Eater swore.

She echoed his sentiments, exactly.

Shit.

"Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. Only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape. "

― William S. Burroughs