February 6th

Hermione thought over what Malfoy just offered. What was the catch? She hadn't survived in their world as long as she had by being foolish and overly trusting. A Death Eater didn't simply give out information because they were asked nicely. There had to be something in it for Malfoy, something worth risking Antonin's wrath. If he ever learned that the tracker had a method to find his estranged wife whenever he desired and he didn't share that knowledge, he'd be in serious trouble.

The clock next to the bed showed the time to be just after midnight. She had nowhere to go. Her only plans had been to slip back beneath the covers with one of her stolen books until she was tired enough to sleep again. There was no way she'd ever get inside the bed with someone like Malfoy on it. That sent the wrong message. It was too familiar. Even as her traitorous mind decided there were worse people to share an intimate space with, she pushed aside all inappropriate thoughts and sat in an empty chair.

"You spoke to Augie? When?"

He claimed he was returning to France. Had he lied about that? If so, to what purpose? She worried that everything had all been part of some sick game, some horrible lie. Augustus was unpredictable. Just because he hadn't thrown her to the Dark Lord's feet didn't mean he wasn't planning on it. He hated France and couldn't stand living with his wife. Maybe if he betrayed Hermione, he would be allow to come back on a more permanent basis alone.

"When he was hiding you in his room at the Leaky Cauldron. I tracked your coat. Imagine my surprise to find you safely snuggled up in the bed of your former lover."

His teasing was wearing on her nerves. She preferred his business-like, impersonal tone on all previous visits. Had something changed since she saw him in Wales? They weren't magically friends just because he hadn't turned her in yet. She could hardly stand to be near him. He was a reminder of a past she was trying to forget.

"I was sick. Augie was taking care of me."

Draco raised both of his hands, palms out, with a laugh. He was still the smug bastard he'd always been, to Hermione's anger. His family's crash in power and respectability hadn't affected him as much as she assumed it would. Or, perhaps most likely, he was as skilled as she at putting on a convincing show.

"What you do in the privacy of your own room is none of my concern. I just merely found it interesting."

It was childish to roll her eyes, but Hermione didn't care. There was a time in her life when that had been her usual response to anything that came out of his mouth. That and hiding in an empty classroom to cry alone when he'd been particularly nasty. Years later, when they were both adults, she was embarrassed by how easily he had been able to control her reactions. Malfoy knew just what strings to pluck to play her like a fine-tuned instrument. He hadn't been foolish enough to try since the war ended and their places in society became vastly different. Did he see her now as so pathetic and weak that he could go back to his previous behavior?

She hoped not. There had been moments, brief moments, in his visits that made her actually look forward to seeing him again. Maybe he had changed into a decent human being. Or, maybe all of her isolation was simply causing her to finally go round the bend. After all, she'd been threatening to go completely mad for years.

"But in all seriousness, Granger, what do you want to know?"

"Why have you been searching for me if it's not because you want to take me back to Antonin or the Dark Lord?"

He shrugged his shoulders. It was a far more elegant gesture than she'd ever been able to accomplish with the same movements.

"You may not be aware of the power you still possess."

Hermione scoffed. If ever there was a more powerless person than she, she'd be surprised. Everything that she once held dear had been stripped away from her. Even her magic was useless. She couldn't even use it without fear of Antonin finding where she was hiding. Maybe once upon a time, she had power, but no longer.

"There are a number of people who are dissatisfied with how the Dark Lord is running the country."

"I'm aware of those in the Resistance. I've spent half of my life fighting them."

"Not the Resistance, Granger. More and more of the average citizens are growing weary with business as usual. Is that how the Muggle saying goes?"

Hermione was startled to hear that it wasn't just some extremist group on the fringes of society who were dissatisfied with how their world had been shaped during the years following the end of the war. They'd built a practical Utopia! How could anyone be unhappy? The only reason she'd run away from the center of power was because of her disintegrating marriage. That was a private matter, not a consequence of all of the hard work that had been done over the years to build up their society to heights that had previously been unknown. She feared there was little hope to be had for a collection of people who had grown so lazy and complacent. Lord Voldemort supplied all of their needs. In exchange, all they had to do was remain loyal. How was that a difficult concept?

"What could they possibly have to complain about? The Dark Lord has been exceedingly generous."

"I fear your closeness to the Dark Lord may have skewed your vision of how happy and satisfied the rest of the world is."

The chill in his tone was undeniable. Gone was the cheeky playfulness from earlier. His grey eyes flashed with what could only be described as fury. It startled Hermione. For the briefest of moments, she was afraid of the man in her room again. He made her question what she knew to be fact and she didn't like it at all. How could he claim to know more about the world they lived in when he spent a majority of his time running around the country and abroad searching for those he was ordered to find?

"There's a growing movement to replace the Dark Lord."

To openly make such a statement was a dangerous offense. Either Draco trusted her to remain silent or he, rightfully so, knew she wasn't foolish enough to approach one of her former comrades just to file a report on his words. Instead, she chose to encourage the conversation further. Maybe he knew something else she didn't.

"Isn't that what that meeting in London was about? Antonin gathering the support he needs to overthrow the Dark Lord?"

"That is what that meeting was about, even if no one was brave enough to speak that plainly, but no, that's not what I'm talking about. There's another group who believes they would be better for our government."

He was dancing around his true meaning. There was no reason to remain silent unless… unless he was talking about the Resistance. Had he really fallen so low that he was willing to throw his lot in with the deplorable rabble that wanted to undo all of the good they'd done? The Resistance was dangerous. Even speaking to them was a crime. Not that it was a hardship to avoid falling into that trap. Nothing they had to say was worth hearing.

"You said I still have power. What did you mean by that?"

"Many of us remember who you were and what you were like before you became the Dark Lord's pet. Some wonder if you might be persuaded to join…"

"The Resistance?"

She spat the word out. It was bitter on her tongue. Clearly amused by her expression, Draco rose to his feet with a smile. His countenance was vastly improved. Some of the hardness that had developed over the years melted away.

He crossed the room to where she still sat. Leaning down, he placed a polite, chaste kiss on her cheek. Before he headed for the door, he removed a stack of parchment from inside his robes. She accepted the offering, immediately setting it down on the table next to her chair. Their conversation was not over yet.

"You're just going to leave? Without answering me?"

"Yes, I am." His grin widened. "I still haven't decided if I can trust you yet."

Malfoy existed her room moments later. Utterly frustrated by his lack of cooperation, Hermione growled and stomped back to her bed. When it was clear she wouldn't be able to sleep in her current agitated state, she grabbed her coat and headed outside. It was past time to drop it into a rubbish bin.