WARNING: This chapter contains brief depictions of torture. If that type of content potentially bothers you, then I recommend you read the sanitized version or skip this chapter altogether. Feel free to reach out to me for a sanitized chapter, or visit my website at to find the sanitized version of the chapter there. Also, thanks to everyone who's reviewed or interacted with this story. I appreciate your attention!
There were few things Draco could think of that truly scared him anymore. The list had been much longer before Voldemort had intruded upon his life and indiscriminately wrecked everything in sight in a trial by fire. Many aspects of his old life had been rendered unrecognizable amidst the aftermath of the war, and along with them, his sense of self-preservation seemed to have fled as well.
The extent of that wreckage had only been compounded by the Sons of Salazar and their vindictive thirst for revenge—they had made him fear once more, when little else now could. Draco wouldn't exactly say he was doing well, but he was certainly focused. He knew what it would take for him to find some semblance of normalcy again. He'd spent every free moment over the past few weeks working towards knowing his enemy so that he could help infiltrate and destroy them from the inside out.
It'll take rooting out every one of those sorry sons of bitches from Hogwarts before I'm satisfied, he thought to himself darkly. Turns out Nott wasn't enough—what an anticlimax that was.
He mounted his broom by the Quidditch pitch in near complete darkness, and took a low and winding path around the school grounds out towards the Forbidden Forest. As he reveled in the feel of the cold night air against his skin, he wondered if a healthy dose of fear would have led him to make less brash decisions than the one he was heading towards on this night. Then again he didn't feel reckless right now. In fact, he felt singleminded in purpose.
If all went according to plan, tonight would be one of the last times he'd have to sneak around the castle after hours to surveil the activity of the Sons of Salazar on campus. He and Blaise would finally be collecting enough evidence tonight to nab all of the major players at Hogwarts. He liked to think he was somewhat prepared for it.
Auror Prather had shown him a useful spell that granted him clear vision in the nighttime darkness, and Draco had donned a black outfit that covered most of his pale skin for the occasion, complete with a skull cap that concealed his shock of platinum hair. He'd Disillusioned himself, charmed his footfalls to be noiseless, and armed himself to the teeth with every magitechnological edge he could think of that might grant him leverage over whatever trouble he may have the misfortune of encountering. He knew his preparation may amount to fuck all when the time came, but he liked to think he'd learned a few things from his previous encounters by now.
Then again, this wasn't his usual exercise in reconnaissance. No, tonight the Sons seemed to have something far different planned than their usual activities—initiation rituals and society rites, for example. Blaise, of course, would partake in these rites tonight, while Draco would be hiding in the periphery, remaining unseen while he spied on them and worked to visually corroborate the members who were in attendance. Both his and Blaise's memories would be used as evidence in the investigation against the Hogwarts contingent of the secret society.
Neither of them had known what to expect from Blaise's official initiation into the Sons of Salazar, but they'd both grimly chosen to assume that hazing would most certainly be a part of it. It was only when he arrived near the northern edge of the Forbidden Forest, flying as low as possible, that Draco realized he and Blaise had unfortunately been right on the mark.
In a grotesque display of submission, he could see one of the new recruits writhing on the forest floor in a small clearing well-illuminated by moonlight, a Silencio clearly having been cast at some point by what looked like Blaise, who was standing over the prone figure with his wand extended. The cursed recruit was seizing in a violent rictus of pain while his fellow society members stood around them wearing expressions that varied from boredom, to satisfaction, to glee and hunger. Like most meetings Draco had spied upon, this gathering only seemed to include Hogwarts students, all of them Slytherin. This was the most of them he'd seen in one gathering.
Draco landed in a nearby clearing, shrinking his broom and silently picking his way through the dense foliage that separated him from the casual display of cruelty that was taking place only a few meters away. He supposed he felt bad for what Blaise was being forced to do right now, but they'd known it would probably come to this.
Blackmail as a form of enforcement.
In a sick and twisted way, it made sense that each recruit would be pushed to prove their loyalty by using Unforgivables to both torture and be tortured by each other. Anyone found to have cast any of those three curses on or near Hogwarts grounds would be facing probable expulsion from school, along with Ministry attention. It was what Draco had faced, after all.
After another 30 seconds the curse was lifted, and while the Slytherin who had been writhing on the ground recovered in a shivering heap off to the side, Draco overheard someone address Blaise. The gruff voice belonged to Graham Montague, a stocky Slytherin who seemed to have filled Nott's absence in the vacuum that had been created by his arrest.
"So, Zabini? The Cruciatus or the Imperius? Which'll it be?" Montague asked in a matter of fact tone.
Draco crept closer, near enough to see Blaise's jaw clench as he responded simply with, "The Cruciatus."
The moonlight illuminating the clearing was strong enough for Draco to see the smirk on Montague's face as he gestured to a third recruit who'd been kneeling off to the side, "Well Burton? You heard the man."
Draco recognized the last name, and realized this was Norman Burton, the annoying 5th year who'd misguidedly attempted to become chummy with Draco in the common room the night he'd been assaulted for the first time. The younger Slytherin's face looked pallid and sweaty as he came into view, and he moved gingerly as he rose to stand in front of Blaise, wand arm extended and trembling. It looked as if he'd already undergone his own bout of initiation of the same variety Blaise had just chosen.
Draco doubted Burton was capable of directing enough negative energy to cause Blaise more than a base level of pain. Hell, he doubted any of the idiots present tonight were capable of casting a Cruciatus that was worth a damn. None of the people in that clearing save maybe Blaise deserved his concern nor his consideration, though. Their very presence tonight showed just where their loyalties were placed. And even his sentiments towards Blaise had wavered and cooled when he realized just how much both he and Pansy had concealed from him. Draco wondered how much of his situation could have been avoided if either of them had simply told him something.
He was torn from his thoughts by the sound of Norman's hissed "Crucio." It was quickly followed by a muttered "Silencio" from Montague, who was standing nearby with his arms crossed and a satisfied smirk on his face.
Draco watched Blaise begin to twitch erratically on the floor within seconds, his mouth open in a silent scream, his eyes shut tightly in pain. It was difficult to compare subjective experiences of pain when different casters were causing that pain, but it seemed as if Blaise was having an easier time of it than the still anonymous recruit who had been under Blaise's wand just a few minutes ago.
I suppose that has to count for something, Draco thought to himself grimly, knowing Blaise wouldn't see it that way. Surprisingly, this felt nowhere near as difficult to watch compared to the memory he'd viewed in McGonagall's office, but he didn't stop to examine why. Of course, it still wasn't easy to watch by any stretch of the imagination. Blaise was someone he'd considered a close friend once, and watching a 5th year reduce him to nothing but a writhing mess in the dirt didn't sit well with the part of him who remembered that friendship.
Draco switched his attention to the other society members facing him to catch a clear view of their faces. He stealthily pulled out a pair of omnioculars from the bottomless pouch strapped to his waist, and peered through the magical lenses. After a few quick adjustments, and with the help of the night vision charm he was still using, he was able to clearly distinguish the faces of Elliot Arbery, Adrian Pucey, Millicent Bulstrode, and Terence Higgs.
Off to the side, he could also see what looked like Adrik Morozov, a 6th year transplant from eastern Europe, kneeling with his forehead touching the ground. Morozov was clearly still recovering from the Cruciatus Blaise had inflicted upon him.
That still left four people in the gathering whose identities Draco had yet to confirm. After less than a minute, Burton lifted his curse, while Montague lifted his silencing spell. The sound of Blaise gasping became apparent, and for a moment it was the only sound that could be heard in the clearing. At length, Blaise struggled to his knees and knelt in a similar position to Morozov. Burton dropped to his knees beside them and did the same.
Realizing his time might soon be up, Draco crept slowly around the periphery of the clearing as Montague began to speak. His footfalls and movements were thankfully concealed by his prescient bit of spellwork earlier. This change in position might be the only way he'd be able to catch sight of the rest of the people in attendance tonight before the festivities were over.
In his haste, he stepped on a large brittle tree branch, one of many strewn across the forest floor. Draco only realized a split-second later that his footfall charm wouldn't be strong enough to hide the cracking sound from so large an object. He lifted his foot quickly before he could snap the branch completely, but the damage had already been done.
A few heads shot up at the cracking sound of wood, and Draco cursed himself internally for his folly. Thankfully, after some discussion no one chose to investigate the sound, although he could tell it had unsettled the group. He overheard Bulstrode muttering about the myriad dangerous creatures that could be found in the forest at night, and an arrogant smirk crept onto his lips despite his slip-up.
I'm one of the creatures you should be scared of, Millie.
He chose his next few steps carefully, and thankfully they brought him close enough to the opposite side of the clearing to see the faces that had been obscured from him at first. He recognized Clarence Burke and Victor Caswell, two 6th years with malicious streaks a kilometer wide, as well as Chelsea Travers, a quiet 7th year whose presence there surprised him. Next to her stood Conrad Warrington, a 5th year who he recognized as a friend of Burton's.
With any luck, every single person in attendance tonight would face expulsion and Ministry blowback for their efforts—it was the least they deserved for clinging to pointless prejudices after they'd been given every chance to renounce them. And their prejudices were pointless. Draco could see that more clearly than ever, and was ashamed to say the strength of his conviction only came from now having been on the receiving end of the bigotry he used to peddle, from having seen firsthand what its far-reaching effects could be.
The thought of Granger and the strength she'd shown in the face of those prejudices slithered into his mind, something that had been happening more often lately. In the few seconds he allowed himself to think about her before shutting down the distracting train of thought, he remembered not only the strength and defiance she'd shown in the face of that hatred, but also the faith in him that she'd displayed. It was more than he'd deserved, and certainly more than any of the people here tonight seemed to warrant.
Draco wanted to believe that some percentage of the witches and wizards standing in the clearing could be redeemed, even as they swore allegiance to hatred and destruction. He wanted to believe this because if he didn't, then he'd begin to question how he had come out the other end of the war feeling as if he'd woken up from such a dark and twisted dream. Were any of them capable of feeling that way—as if they'd been swimming in dark waters for so long, only to finally emerge into a world they hadn't even been aware they wanted to be a part of? Could any of them separate their predispositions for Slytherin behavior from their culturally instilled bigotry? Would they want to?
Job done for the night, Draco stashed his omnioculars back in his bottomless pouch with satisfaction and observed silently as the cadre of students performed a few more closing rituals before the gathering ended. He waited until each of the Slytherins in attendance had made their way past the tree line and back towards the castle before he moved back towards the clearing he'd originally landed at. He wasn't sure how exactly they'd made it past the school gates and wards, since it didn't seem like any of them had used broomsticks, but he didn't worry too much about it. He'd counted the number of bodies lumbering back to school grounds, and each of them had been accounted for, even if he didn't know where exactly their entry point would be.
After waiting nearly half an hour to ensure his housemates had all slithered back to the dungeons, he pulled his broomstick out of his pouch and transfigured it back to full size. With one last look around, he pushed off and was in the air for the second time that night. He was preoccupied with the next steps he'd need to take to pass everything he'd learned tonight onto Auror Prather, but he still kept an eye out for anything unusual as he flew back over the castle boundary and landed in the southwestern corner of the Quidditch pitch.
Feeling antsy with a sense of victory and anticipation, Draco stashed his broomstick away before stealthily sneaking back into castle via one of the open corridors that led onto the Quidditch fields. Minutes later, he crept over the walkway that connected the eastern and western ends of the castle and made a sharp turn into the corridor that led to the stairs. As he rounded the corner with his wand clutched at the ready, his overconfidence caught up with his ambition.
In a matter of seconds, multiple things happened in quick succession. From behind, he heard a shout and sensed a nearly imperceptible ripple of magical energy speeding towards him. In the split-second he had to make a decision, he dove to the side to avoid the spell while aiming his wand behind him and blindly launching a wordless Stupefy. He had another split-second to feel grim satisfaction at the sound of a body hitting the floor, but was then quickly distracted by the Stupefy that hit him from the side.
Fuck, was all he had time to think before it was his own body hitting the floor unconscious.
Hermione had been crouched Disillusioned in the same spot for at least half an hour now, but she was too stubborn, curious and worried to leave just yet despite how bad of an idea she knew this was. Besides, she'd cast a warming spell on herself to ensure she couldn't use the temperature as an excuse to turn tail and retreat to the warmth and safety of her quarters. Although she'd allowed herself to shift around a few times during her vigil, a dull ache had begun to suffuse her joints as she huddled close to the ground behind a set of hedges—one of many that lined the Quidditch fields.
Of course, that dull ache had more to do with the tension and anxiety currently coursing through her body than it did with tonight's temperature. She knew this was stupid—no, supremely idiotic. She knew she must have a death wish at this rate, to be sneaking around alone at night based on information that was almost guaranteed to be faulty—provided by a Slytherin no less. She hadn't even notified anyone about where she'd gone. Perhaps it was anger morphed into stupidity that was motivating her now.
That must be it, she scoffed to herself with a tinge of morbid humor, My brain's turned to mush after so many bouts of the Cruciatus.
Pansy's words had gnawed like a stubborn itch at Hermione's self-control and peace of mind throughout the rest of the day. She'd spent it stewing, wishing she would have forced the Slytherin's hand during their earlier meeting. Yet she'd also spent it reminding herself that as Head Girl she had an example to set—one that didn't involve incapacitating and mentally violating a fellow student in broad daylight without physical provocation, no matter how tempting the prospect. Despite knowing she'd acted with her responsibilities as Head Girl in mind, Hermione had spent the next few hours simmering with mounting disquiet and indecision, wishing she'd at least been more forceful with the nasty viper of a Slytherin who'd thought to mock her plight. Pansy was clearly up to something.
Objectively, Hermione could see exactly why what she was doing tonight was a terrible idea, but she hadn't accounted for being unable to warn Malfoy, had assumed she'd see him around at least once throughout the day as per usual. Yet she'd seen neither hide nor hair from him since Pansy had delivered her wholly unexpected warning this morning. He'd vanished for all intents and purposes—she'd checked.
Harry had gifted her the Marauder's Map upon her return to Hogwarts after the attack, insisting it would help give her peace of mind given her responsibilities as Head Girl. When she'd hesitated he'd insisted upon it, telling her he hoped it would make her feel safer within the castle where so many terrible and wonderful things were liable to happen. Although she'd used it occasionally out of idle curiosity to distract herself, this was the first time she'd used it specifically to track someone since she'd been back this year.
However, she'd been alarmed when she'd activated the map that afternoon only to find that Malfoy seemed to be nowhere on it. Although it wasn't unheard of for students to leave the castle premises during the school day, she felt a frisson of panic knowing that there was a very real chance she could be too late to warn him. He'd given no indication recently that he planned to go off-campus at such odd hours.
Just where in the hell is he?!
For a split-second, her confidence in Malfoy wavered, and she wondered what he could possibly be doing, wondered if he'd snuck off for nefarious purposes. She abandoned this train of thought as quickly as it formed in her mind, deciding she was quite done making him her enemy for the time being, especially when he'd been nothing but a gentleman while in control of his own faculties. The rational part of her mind chimed in with a reminder that he could still have business to attend to, in the same way she had her weekly appointments with Healer Donovan.
Pansy could also be playing an elaborate prank on me, she reminded herself. But is that a chance I want to take? It's too much of a coincidence that he'd disappear on this of all days.
The hours before dinner had found Hermione bracing herself against one of the desks in her common room. Nose hovering only inches above the magically inked parchment, she'd looked for Malfoy's name with a frantic sense of concentration, hoping it would appear near the periphery of the castle indicating that he'd returned from wherever it was he'd disappeared off to.
Hermione had even gone as far as surreptitiously asking around about his whereabouts from other students. When that hadn't worked, she'd resorted to sending him an urgent owl and posting a note to his door in the afternoon. Neither message seemed to have been successfully delivered.
She wasn't quite sure what she intended to do once she found him now, especially if he appeared to be in no danger. She supposed finding him at all would be a relief at this point. Certainly asking him what the hell was going on would be her first course of action if he was indeed unscathed. In the idle hours she spent scouring the map, she decided to dress herself in clothing more suitable for the kind of idiocy she was contemplating if he did reappear.
It was in the Great Hall during dinnertime that she really began to worry. She'd positioned herself across from Ginny to surreptitiously watch the Slytherin table, and had noted Malfoy's absence throughout the entirety of the meal. As far as she could tell, it was the first time he had missed dinner in weeks.
And suddenly at around 10:30 that night, long after she'd moved to the couch to lounge with Crookshanks while keeping one eye on the map, Malfoy's name had miraculously reappeared. The black dot representing him had briskly made its way into the castle via the stairs that led up from the boat docks. With a start, Hermione had watched as he'd made his way towards the side of the castle that held their dormitories, only to veer off and head towards the eastern end of the castle. He'd paused for a few minutes at what looked like a supply closet before making his way towards the northeastern corner of the castle.
Upon realizing he didn't plan to return to their quarters, Hermione had scrambled to grab her wand and cloak, all while keeping an eye on the black dot that represented Malfoy on the map to track his position. She'd then hurried out of their rooms, giving herself little time to question what she was doing, or why. All she knew was that she would feel responsible now if anything happened to him tonight. She had been too frantic to let things like common sense and reason guide her, too preoccupied to wonder if Pansy had indeed intended for her to walk into another trap of some sort.
It was why she now found herself crouched outdoors waiting for Malfoy to return from his little night jaunt. She'd allowed her emotions to overtake her, had decided to rush into this situation because she felt she'd failed him by not alerting him in time, in the off chance that Pansy had been telling the truth. Although the rational part of her understood that none of what could befall him in the next few hours would be her fault, tonight she was a Gryffindor to a fault if her reckless decision-making and insufferable desire to save others was anything to go by.
She could have chosen to wait for Malfoy in a more obvious location, but she didn't like the idea of leaving herself so exposed while being so distracted. The hedges had provided just enough to cover to make her feel less anxious about splitting her attention between the skies and the map to ensure no one was creeping up on her, and to ensure Malfoy hadn't come back through a different entry point in the castle altogether.
Hermione wasn't even sure this was where Malfoy would return to the school grounds. She'd nearly sprinted across the castle to catch up to him, using the map to avoid Filch and a few other late-night wanderers, including the two Prefects who were on patrol for the rest of the night.
She'd arrived at the Quidditch pitch just in time to see him lifting off on his broom to slice up through the air. For a split-second she'd considered shouting out to him or catching his attention in some way, but there was an entire sports field separating them, and in the time she'd hesitated he'd quickly disappeared into the night sky. A sickening pit of worry had dropped in her stomach upon his departure, along with anger at his hypocrisy.
He tells me not to wander around the halls at night alone, yet here he is cavorting around doing Merlin knows what at near midnight after going missing for the day! The nerve!
Left with little other recourse and motivated by a not inconsiderable amount of mounting ire, she'd hunkered down, keeping one eye on the map and one eye on the skies while she waited for something to happen. A little under half an hour later, she noticed a group of what looked like Slytherin names appear suddenly near the dungeons on the map. Alarmed, she watched as a few more of them appeared on the river bank, as if they'd emerged from the water. One by one each Slytherin made their way down to the dungeons and presumably back to their dormitories, with the exception of two who broke off from the group to make their way towards the heart of the castle.
Montague, Zabini, Burton, Bulstrode, Pucey, Higgs, Morozov—just how many of them are there?!
Heart racing, Hermione made it a point to memorize the names she saw emerging from the river and heading towards the dormitories. Her first instinct was to say to hell with it all and go straight to McGonagall. Such a flagrant disregard of school rules by such a large contingent of students—twelve altogether, if she'd counted correctly—was not something that could be taken lightly given the current atmosphere.
Torn, Hermione had half a mind to investigate for herself just what in Merlin's name they were up to, knowing it was almost certainly nothing good. She watched as the two dots representing Clarence Burke and Victor Caswell stopped near the eastern edge of the courtyard that opened onto the walkway facing the opposite half of the school. She raised into a half-crouch, ready to storm over to that part of the castle and raise hell, but something held her back.
Once again, the image of Malfoy sprawled out in front of the hearth, contorting with the strength of the Crucio that had been cast upon him stopped her cold in her tracks. She sat back heavily into the scratchy brush beneath her, momentarily thrown by the memory. No, she would stay put and see her original goal through first. After all, she would be speaking with McGonagall about this one way or another first thing tomorrow morning, even if it meant revealing her possession of the Marauder's map.
As she considered Burke and Caswell's possible motivations, she realized with a jolt of adrenaline that they might be the ones Pansy had warned her about this morning. Could it be that she was watching them as they positioned themselves to ambush Malfoy? Had she really just caught the pieces as they settled into place? It might be a stretch, but it was too convenient to be a coincidence, and she kept the possibility on her mind as she reevaluated how she intended to handle this situation. Perhaps direct action wasn't what was required on this night. Perhaps it called for more subtle measures.
Nearly an hour after she'd first spied Malfoy's liftoff, she noticed a dark figure flying back over the the school's boundary. She scrambled to prepare to move, and after double-checking the map, confirmed that it was indeed Malfoy who had just landed. He was quick to dispatch of his broom and sweep into the nearest archway.
No matter what happens tonight, I'm getting some answers, she thought darkly despite the relief also coursing through her body.
A sliver of rationality interrupted her self-righteous musings with a reminder that under these circumstances, Malfoy's first response upon realizing someone was following him might be to take evasive or defensive maneuvers unless she identified herself clearly. She debated the best way to catch his attention without putting herself in harm's way, and realized with a stroke of clarity that it might be best to trail him silently until she could provide backup or until they both arrived safely back at their quarters. At least in their rooms she'd have the privacy to rip him a new arsehole for being such a bloody idiot.
This is Howler-worthy bullshit, she thought as her irritation with Malfoy grew.
She crept along behind the hedge and then slipped through the closest archway into the school, clutching the map in her left hand, and holding her wand at the ready in her right hand. Cursing silently, she checked the map in a shaft of moonlight before folding it hastily and shoving it in her pocket once she noticed that Malfoy had progressed far ahead of her into the castle. Either he was naturally gifted with stealth, or this wasn't the first time he'd done this—or both. The thought only caused the furrow in her brow to deepen.
As they crept closer towards the western wing of the castle, Hermione's wand hand began to tremble. He was headed exactly in the direction where Caswell and Burke had stationed themselves. She wrestled with what to do, unsure if she should cause a commotion, or try to intercept Malfoy, or if she should try to ambush the ambush. The strategic side of her grimly noted that if she waited until the 6th year Slytherins attacked, she would have much more probable cause for being out tonight and apprehending them within her capacity as Head Girl. But it would involve letting Malfoy walk into yet another potentially traumatic situation, and it would involve putting herself in danger once again.
Hermione found that she didn't mind that last thought as much she should have, but the thought of some sort of catastrophe befalling Malfoy terrified her. She wasn't sure what it was that was driving her to so fervently look out for his best interests, and now was definitely not the time to question it. Later, she'd have plenty of time to wonder just what the hell was going through her mind.
She scurried into the shadows only stopping once to check the map again, cursing silently when she saw that Malfoy was already beginning to cross the covered walkway that spanned the river. She rushed ahead to catch up with him, and reached the end of the stone bridge in time to watch his nearly imperceptible form turn the corner up ahead. She was also just in time to see the shadow that peeled away from the wall to begin stalking after him, wand pointed at his back.
Too many things happened in the span of a few heartbeats as she sprinted into the hallway and rounded the corner yelling his name. The shadowed figure wordlessly launched a stunning spell at Malfoy's back, but seemed to miss. The Stupefy that had half-formed next on her lips was cut abruptly short when the shadow was felled by someone else's stunning spell, presumably rendering him unconscious. Almost immediately after this, the reddish flash of a third stunning spell illuminated the dark hallway, one that knocked Malfoy unconscious a few meters ahead of her.
With nothing but milliseconds to decide on a course of action, Hermione decided to incapacitate now and apologize later. Aided by the illumination of the three successive stunning spells that had just been cast before her, she pointed her wand where she'd just seen Caswell standing over Draco. She shot the fourth stunning spell of the night at the 6th year, and noted in mute horror that he'd responded in kind with something much nastier upon noticing her. She lunged to the side to avoid his hex, and noted that her spell struck true. In the seconds it took for his body to hit the floor, she cast a Lumos and rounded on Burke, who was laying unconscious behind her. Frowning, she cast an Incarcerous on the two unconscious 6th year students, and then rushed to crouch by Malfoy.
Feeling ever-vigilant and shaking slightly from the adrenaline now coursing through her system, she pulled out the map first and checked to see if anyone else had slithered out of the dungeons to cause trouble. She was relieved to see that the four of them were the only ones nearby. She tucked the map away and refocused her attention on Malfoy, double-loading spells to keep him illuminated.
"Rennervate," she whispered.
He came to with a start, wincing and staring at her in confusion once he recognized her behind the glare of her Lumos.
"What the fuck—Granger?" he began, clearly still experiencing the same panic from before he'd been knocked unconscious.
He sat up quickly before pushing himself to his feet, and Hermione held up a hand to interrupt him after standing to face him. She felt a spike of compassion shoot through her at the emotions clearly coursing through his usually shuttered visage.
"We're safe, Malfoy," she cut him off, "and although we have plenty to catch up on later tonight, in the meantime there are more pressing matters we need to attend to—namely those two over there."
She motioned at the two unconscious 6th years sprawled out before them.
"But first," she said more gently, "Are you alright?"
Malfoy noted the bound forms of his housemates with a mix of confusion and relief, and turned to look at her with a hint of disbelief still coloring his features, "I'm fine, thanks to you Granger. But how did you know to be here? How did you find me?"
She watched as he visibly pulled himself together, watched as the last of the panic bled from his gaze only to be replaced by a more composed expression.
"We can talk about that later. For now, I say we take this up with McGonagall. You levitate Burke, I'll take Caswell," she said, inclining her head at the 6th years.
"And what exactly do you propose we tell McGonagall, hmm Granger? How exactly do you intend to explain your involvement in this to her? Do you plan to tell her you just randomly happened to come across me in my time of need at half past midnight?" he asked sarcastically.
Her gaze cut a sharp line to his and narrowed.
"I'll tell her the truth, Malfoy. Would you rather I release these two with nothing worse than detention and points reductions, and wait until tomorrow to bring it up? You saw what happened the last time your housemates ambushed us. I doubt they had anything nicer planned for you this time."
Malfoy winced minutely at her words, but met her gaze evenly, "There's certainly one way to find out."
He stepped over to Burke, who was closest to him, and cast a Petrificus Totalus on the unconscious teen, then cast another on his friend.
"Malfoy, what are you doing?" Hermione asked suspiciously, coming to stand next to him as he cast a double Mobilicorpus on the pair of Slytherins.
His response was evasive, "I'm levitating them to this classroom up here on the left to give us more cover while we figure out what to do."
He began to make his way down the corridor, and had the nerve to call out behind him, "Your Lumos would be much appreciated up here you know."
She glared at his back with angry incredulity, but followed after him and bit out, "That's a shit answer and you know it. Try again."
He waited until they were safely inside the empty classroom with the door closed behind them before he said, "I'm going to see if they have any incriminating memories worth extracting. Then I'm going to Obliviate any memory of my intrusion from their minds. And then we're going to take them to McGonagall."
She paused, shaking her head, "You shouldn't be tampering with their memories like this, not without first checking with her."
He locked the door and silenced the room with an Alohamora and Muffliato cast in quick succession before responding with a sigh, "Granger, I answer to the same people she does. She'll understand."
"Pardon, what?!" she asked, some of her anger bleeding into confusion and curiosity.
He grimaced, "Look, I can explain it all once we get back to our rooms, but now is not the time, witch."
He made as if to point his wand at Caswell, but Hermione's patience snapped before he could finish. In quick succession she aimed Expelliarmus and Immobulus charms at him, rounding on his frozen form so she could ground out her next words while locked onto his furious gaze.
"No, Malfoy. You'll give me answers now," she said in a tone that left no room for argument, "You'll tell me now why the bloody hell Pansy fucking Parkinson of all people was right to warn me about you. You'll tell me now who the fuck you're working for. The finer details can wait until we're back in our rooms, but don't you dare try to brush me off one more bloody time or so help me!"
Her gaze smoldering with stubborn ire, she added with mock ruefulness, "Don't worry Malfoy, the rest of your body might be frozen but your face is free to move, so you can still run your mouth."
He stared at her with a hint of the type of icy regard he'd reserved for her in the days when he'd still called her mean names*.* She didn't care that her actions just now had potentially violated any sense of trust he may have had in her, didn't care if this put them back at square one. She was tired of being kept in the dark.
At length he muttered, "The investigation into the Sons of Salazar—I'm helping with it. It's why I was out there tonight, and it's why I told you McGonagall won't care if I invade their minds. She knows I'm a Ministry informant, knows that's what I was up to today. What she doesn't know is that you're involved in any way—and you shouldn't be. She'll have my head for it if she finds out."
He ended with a pointed look at her, although its impact was lessened given the frozen state of the rest of his body. Hermione paused.
I suppose that makes sense, actually.
She'd already wondered if he'd been off on Ministry business of some sort, but it wasn't too much of a stretch to think that he'd become part of the official investigation. A spike of envy shot through her at the knowledge that the Ministry had trusted him with that kind of work while leaving her out of it.
"Why shouldn't I be involved? I've just as much a right to get to the bottom of it as you do, Malfoy," she declared, placing her hands on her hips while wearing a defiant expression.
He rolled his eyes, "Right, of course, because you're a bloody Gryffindor and it's your life's mission to intrude into everyone's affairs so you can swoop in and save the day."
Hermione ground her teeth, "That's not fair and you know it! I've just as much a right to be involved in this investigation as you do!"
She had the distinct impression he would have cocked his head to the size if he hadn't been frozen to the spot because of her.
He raised an eyebrow, "Look Granger, I get it—I shouldn't have treated you like a pushover just now. Lesson learned. But is this really the time?"
She huffed with exasperation but conceded, "Fine, but gods damn it Malfoy! Enough with the secrecy!"
She released the freezing charm and handed him back his wand reluctantly, refusing to feel sheepish for having stood up for herself. She'd just saved his arse, after all.
Without wasting any time, he proceeded to cast a Rennervate on Caswell, who was still bound and petrified despite now being awake. She watched Victor's eyes swivel around frantically only to land on Malfoy and widen. Malfoy didn't waste any time, and with a whispered Legilimens he locked gazes with Caswell and dove into his mind.
Hermione felt a roil of emotions at the scene playing out before her. She was still infuriated with Malfoy's earlier curt dismissal of her, and now felt discomfited by the sight of Legilimency being performed before her like this, so reminiscent of the position she'd been in a few weeks ago. She shook herself out of this train of thought, slamming her mental walls down on the whirlpool of emotions that threatened to overtake her with the spark of that memory. Despite her discomfort, some small part of her was also envious of Malfoy's shamelessness and assertiveness.
Sure, she could have tried something similar to his methods earlier today with Parkinson, but she hadn't trusted her own mental fortitude in that moment. The thought of mind-to-mind contact with anyone still made Hermione shudder. It reminded her of what it had felt like to have Mulciber rooting around in her mind, ruthlessly and methodically wreaking havoc one happy memory at a time.
Leaving her anger to stew somewhere near her stomach, she surreptitiously pulled out the Marauder's map and checked it to see if anything had changed. Their part of the castle had remained blessedly empty throughout their altercation, and they had a clear path to McGonagall's study with no obvious interruptions along the way. She deactivated the map and put it away only a few seconds before Malfoy emerged from Caswell's mind glowering.
"Well?" Hermione queried, "What did you find?"
"Far more than I'd hoped," he responded cryptically before stalking over to Clarence Burke, "They had quite the welcome party prepared for me down in the dungeons tonight. These two were to be my horse and carriage down to hell, as it were."
He didn't give her a chance to say anything else before he awakened Burke and whispered Legilimens once again.
Immediately Hermione's mind went back to Pansy's warning from earlier in the day. Against all odds, had Parkinson really been telling the truth? No guile? No games? There had to be a catch—something she was missing. As she mulled it over, she began to pace, distantly noting Victor's panicked gaze. His eyes were swinging around wildly as he presumably tried to figure out a way out of his current predicament.
She was reminded of the group of Slytherins who had snuck back into the dungeons earlier in the night via the waterway that divided the castle down the middle. It wouldn't take a huge leap in logic to imagine that they had been the welcome party Malfoy had inferred from Caswell's mind.
Just how far would they have gone to exact revenge?
She wondered if they would have had their fun with him first, only to transport him out of the school to be murdered as had been the original plan for her. Perhaps that was what Malfoy was in the process of ascertaining. Then again, as tonight had shown her, she obviously had next to no idea just what the hell Draco Malfoy was up to despite the fact that they were roommates and colleagues.
It occurred to her that this Slytherin welcome party would be expecting their guests' arrival any minute now. How long would it be before more Sons of Salazar came up to this part of the castle to investigate? Were they headed here now? Feeling paranoia begin to creep up her spine, Hermione pulled the map out again to check.
Just to make sure.
The moment she reactivated it, she was glad her paranoia had pushed her to check. Three more Slytherins were currently on their way towards their part of the castle. As she watched, each of them split off, seeming to take a different route towards where they'd expected their housemates to apprehend Malfoy.
Cursing, she looked towards Malfoy. His cool gaze was still locked on Burke's frozen expression. It was taking him a lot longer to read Clarence's thoughts than it had taken him to read Caswell's. Her eyes darted to the locked classroom door, and then back to the map.
Deciding this situation had officially reached the point of further escalation, Hermione pulled out her wand and tried to focus on happy thoughts. Her more recent memories came to the fore relatively easily, but the memories she had previously relied on to cast a Patronus had disappeared. It was supremely frustrating to remember that they had existed without being able to remember the memories themselves. It made their absence all the more stark in that moment.
Resolved to push past that momentary pain, Hermione drew upon new fountains of happiness, most especially from the day she and her friends had defeated Voldemort once and for all. It had been a day full of tragedy and pain too, but in that moment, when she'd realized the dark wizard had been eradicated, she'd felt such a strong feeling of elation, one that resonated even now as she revisited it.
At first, she was only able to produce incorporeal wisps of silver mist, but at length she was eventually able to produce the corporeal otter she'd grown used to. She was grateful to know that that of all memories hadn't been taken from her. Relieved, she whispered her message and sent her silver otter shooting off towards the Headmistress' quarters, hoping it wouldn't be intercepted by any of the Slytherins who were converging on their group, and hoping it would get there in time to be of help.
Her train of thought was broken a few minutes later when Malfoy finally emerged from Burke's mind. His glowering expression had turned murderous, and for a split-second a frisson of anxiety skittered down her back at the sight of him. She had to remind herself that he wasn't someone she should be afraid of, at least not in this moment.
"Things are starting to make sense, Granger. Including what you said about Pansy earlier," he said darkly.
Her anxiety quickly morphed into intrigue, "How so?"
He gestured towards Caswell, whose frenetic gaze had alighted on her, "Turns out Pansy's father is one of the ringleaders in the Sons of Salazar now—he was promoted. He's the one now in charge of overseeing student operations at Hogwarts. Quartius has been a busy man indeed."
Hermione's expression became confused, "But then... why would she have warned me to look out for you tonight?"
This time both of Malfoy's eyebrows rose as he turned fully to regard her with surprise, "Wait, you're saying she warned you to look out for me? I thought you meant she'd warned you to stay away from me."
Hermione shook her head, "No, she said you'd been caught sticking your nose into the wrong things, and mentioned that if I cared at all about your safety, I should keep you from sneaking around tonight. But of course, you disappeared from the castle for most of the day, so that became exceedingly difficult."
Malfoy's gaze narrowed, "How do you know that? How could you possibly have known I'd left school premises with that degree of certainty?"
She rolled her eyes, "Let's just add that to the list of things we need to clarify once we get back to our rooms, hmm Malfoy? In the meantime, trust me when I say that these two idiots are the least of our problems. Obliviate them so we can Stupefy them, because in the next five minutes we're going to have three more of their ilk knocking down our door if McGonagall doesn't get here in time to help us sort this out before someone gets hurt."
His gaze remained narrowed, but his eyes darted towards the door, "How in the fuck do you know that, Granger? What aren't you telling me?"
She gave him a wry smile, "Smarts, doesn't it—not getting the answers you want?"
He cut her an icy glare, "Now's really not the time to be petulant, witch."
"You should have thought of that before you tried to take me for a pushover," she shot back heatedly.
Shaking his head and muttering unintelligibly, he turned on the still paralyzed 6th years and made short work of Obliviating them before rendering them unconscious. While he did that, Hermione pulled out the map for a third time and smoothed it out before her to watch the three Slytherins—Higgs, Pucey, and Arbery—descend from different directions upon the hallway in which their skirmish had occurred a little under ten minutes ago. With a huge wave of relief, she also noted that McGonagall was already halfway across the stone bridge that connected both sides of the castle. It seemed her Patronus had done its job. Perhaps they would be able to avoid any considerable confrontation tonight after all.
Malfoy rounded on her once he was done incapacitating both 6th years and repeated, "What aren't you telling me?"
Hermione sighed and gestured towards the hallway, "Terrence Higgs, Adrian Pucey, and Elliot Arbery have just arrived in that hallway out there to find out why Burke and Caswell haven't returned with you to the Slytherin dungeons. Within the next few minutes Headmistress McGonagall should be done incapacitating them for further interrogation, at which point I expect her to knock on the door with the pattern I asked her to use to verify it's her."
Malfoy stared at her with what she guessed was a mixture of wonder and suspicion, "How in Merlin's name do you know any of that?"
"Don't you ever get tired of repeating yourself?" she asked coyly.
"Granger," he ground out in a warning tone.
Realizing she'd probably get an earful from Harry about this later, she gestured down to the Marauder's map, "It's this map. It lets me track any person's position if they're within the castle grounds. It's how I was able to find you tonight, and it's how I know for a fact that McGonagall has now dealt with Higgs and Pucey, and that she's in the process of apprehending Arbery as we speak."
Gobsmacked and looking extremely intrigued, Malfoy stared at the map she held in wonder and asked, "Where on earth did you get something like that?"
Hermione shook her head, "Later, Malfoy. Let's focus on cleaning this mess up before diving into any other quagmires."
Malfoy gave her a thoughtful look, "We could have cleaned it up ourselves, you know."
She nodded and met his eyes while folding the map and putting it back in her cloak pocket, "Yes, we could have. But I didn't trust either of us to be able to do it without harming someone in the process, nor without being harmed ourselves. I decided not to risk it given the current atmosphere."
At that moment, the door knocked in a peculiar rhythmic pattern. With a surge of relief, Hermione headed towards the door while informing him, "Well, the map confirms it. That's definitely McGonagall."
The next hour passed in a blur. Hermione and Malfoy spent it retelling their versions of what had happened that night while helping a slightly disheveled McGonagall transport the five unconscious Slytherins who had thought to act upon what was clearly a plan to ambush Malfoy for more nefarious purposes to her office. McGonagall had also awoken and conferred with Slughorn, who dragged the rest of the Slytherin party Hermione and Malfoy had spied sneaking around that night up to her office as well.
All told, the combined accounts of both Head Girl and Head Boy, along with their willingness to provide their memories of the night, gave McGonagall enough credible cause within the context of the investigation to refer the twelve Slytherins to the Ministry for further interrogation immediately. As they'd waited for the requisite number of Aurors to appear at so odd an hour of the night, McGonagall crisply informed each of the twelve students that it was very likely their attendance at Hogwarts would be terminated given the activities they had been part and party to that night. To say most of them were stunned would be an understatement.
Hermione felt nothing but grim satisfaction, and based on what little she could read in Malfoy's expression, it appeared he felt the same way. Not a single one of the Slytherins standing before them seemed to be interested in anything but purveying pure hatred, and Hermione had had enough of it.
As she and Malfoy quietly made their way back to their quarters with a promise to McGonagall to check in again early the following morning for a more in-depth briefing, Hermione felt resolute in the way they'd handled things that night. In one fell swoop they'd knocked out a huge swathe of the bigots who continued to purvey their backwards drivel at Hogwarts. But as she snuck surreptitious glances at Malfoy, she couldn't help but feel that things weren't over yet if his grim expression was anything to go by—not by a long shot.
Well, we certainly have a lot to talk about tonight, she mused as they walked back to their rooms together.