16- Tears

Hermione woke with a start. It was still dark. The other bed in the room was empty, of course. Ginny must've been taken back to the Burrow. Why hadn't anyone left her a note updating her on Ginny's condition? Harry and Ron were probably still mad at her. Mrs. Weasley was the one who usually thought of things like that, but she'd been too busy to even notice Hermione was gone. Professor McGonagall knew that she'd left. It wasn't her style to leave a note though.

She cast a lumos so she could see the watch on her bed stand. 4:15. Her locket was lying next to her watch. She picked it up and flicked it open. The miniature portrait of Hyacinth grumbled in her sleep. The metal of the locket was cool - no message.

Was it even safe to touch the locket? Who had sent it to her if it wasn't Hyacinth?

And where was Draco? He'd said he'd let her know when he got back. How long would a Death Eater meeting last? Surely Ginny was okay. Mrs. Weasley was very competent, although she wasn't a healer. Hermione closed her eyes, rolled over and slipped into an uneasy slumber.

Every once in a while she'd wake enough to reach over and touch the locket to see if it was warm. It would've been easier to put it on, but somehow, remembering bad experiences with the horcrux locket, she didn't trust it enough to wear it anymore. She couldn't resist checking it though.

Surely the meeting was over by now? If Ginny wasn't okay, someone would've still been up, wouldn't they? Malfoy was such a jerk. He'd forgotten his promise to let her know that he was okay.

Unless he wasn't okay. If Professor McGonagall was wrong . . . if the Dark Lord had caught on to Professor Snape's tricks . . . perhaps before he killed Snape, he'd plundered his mind and learned all of his secrets . . . or maybe she just hadn't done it right . . . the painted on bruises hadn't been convincing . . . she had left his fingers all straight . . . the Dark Lord must have known . . . would she just never hear from him again, never find out exactly what painful death he'd endured? . . . or maybe his body was already thrown outside on the pavement like those poor Muggles had been . . . .

At 6:35 she gave up on sleep, although she refused to look out the window to check the pavement. Maybe someone else would be up, someone who'd know about Ginny. She cast a silencing spell on the creaky staircase and hurried down to the kitchen. She put a pot of tea on, knowing she could heat the water instantly with magic, but not wanting to. She was trying to kill time.

How long would it be before someone else got up? At least now she could have some uninterrupted time to read Professor Snape's book.

A half hour later she was practicing the wand motions for a spell version of a basic pain-killing potion. She wasn't sure if she was getting them right. She was pretty good at repeating wand motions after seeing them demonstrated. Following a hand-drawn illustration was much less certain. It didn't help that this whole area of magic seemed somewhat dodgy to her.

"Whoa – it's too early in the morning to lose a spleen!"

Hermione jerked her hand back. "Neville! I'm so sorry. Did I get you?"

"No – I'm fine. Good morning to you too."

"Good morning. Sorry, I was just . . . ." Hermione gestured vaguely with her hand, but she didn't think she should share details about Professor Snape's spells. Neville didn't press her for information. "The kettle's hot if you want tea."

"Thanks. You disappeared last night. Everything okay?"

"Um, . . . yeah, . . . kind of." Hermione hated this, all this secrecy and evasion. "I'm working on a project. I can't really tell anyone about it. I had to go. Did Ginny ever wake up? Was she okay?"

"Yeah, she'll be fine. Thank God they found her." Neville yawned as he poured his water for the tea. She felt a rush of relief. She should have just gotten some sleep, not worried about nothing, although there was still . . . .

"It was that bastard Malfoy. He was in there slaughtering children."

Hermione opened her mouth to say . . . something. What? There was nothing she could say.

"Okay. I know they weren't real children – that was brilliant by the way – but he didn't know that. He was going to take Ginny and the one child back to Snake Eyes for whatever sick games . . . ."

It was so unfair. Neville was so wrong, but she couldn't tell him what really happened, couldn't tell him what Draco had done for them.

"Did you stay here last night?" Hermione interrupted him. She couldn't contradict him, but she didn't have to listen. She frowned. Where had Neville had been living lately? Hogwarts? His grandmother's?

"Yeah. I went with them when we returned the little girl. We left her in a Muggle hospital, modified her memory and all. They all just think she and her chaperone were hit by an out of control motorbike – hit and run."

"Still pretty awful for her then."

"Not nearly as bad as the truth." Hermione had to agree with that. "Anyway, there's going to be an Order meeting this morning, 8:30, so I figured I'd just stay here. Couldn't sleep though. Ron snores."

Hermione laughed. Everyone complained of Ron's snoring. She and Harry had long ago learned to just silence him. "Where was Harry? Didn't he . . . ."

"He spent the night at the Burrow. The Weasleys took Ginny back there." Hermione nodded. Of course.

"Neville, I'm been meaning to ask you – any luck with the wolfsbane?"

Neville wilted so quickly that an answer wasn't necessary, but he explained anyway. "No. I just don't get it. I know they always say that wolfsbane resists being cultivated, but I can't figure out why. What am I doing wrong? We'll keep working on it. How're your stores holding out?"

She couldn't bring herself to tell him how bad things were. "We've still got some." That was true, just not enough for the amount of Wolfsbane Potion that Hagrid wanted, that Hagrid needed. Hagrid wouldn't say why. Was he raising werewolf pups? Every month he wanted more. "I'm sure you'll figure it out," she said, but she couldn't meet his eyes. "So how're you? Did you go to St. Mungo's?" Hermione had almost forgotten that she'd never gotten details on how they got out.

"Yeah, that was the strangest raid ever. I thought we were dead, walked right into a trap, then somehow, it all fell apart for them. We didn't even lose anybody, although I guess there was a patient who was . . . ."

There was a crack of apparition in the hall. In the early morning quiet it made them both jump.

"I'll check that," Hermione said, her heart suddenly clenched with fear and hope.

As soon as she saw Nappy she knew the news was bad "Miss! Miss, I is needing you! Master is needing more 'help me.'" Hermione's stomach churned. He wasn't even recovered from his 'punishment.' How much more could he take?

"Nappy, it's okay. I'll come. Just let me get my bag." Even as she spoke her bag was coming down the stairs to her. "What's happened?"

"Miss – Nappy no understand. Was mess, Master hurt, but bells no ring."

"Let's go."

Hermione's wand was drawn even before they reached the cottage. The last time the only thing out of place had been Draco, on the floor. This time, she could tell there had been a battle. The sofa was overturned, and she could see Draco lying across the back of it. For a moment she froze, all thought knocked out of her brain.

"Miss? Miss? Master breathing. No wake up." Nappy's whisper forced her to focus, to think again.

He must have been blasted and the force of his fall knocked over the furniture. Was anyone still here? The mirror above the mantle had been knocked down and shattered. There was a scorch mark on the wall that had taken out part of the frame of the peaceful landscape painting, another scorch mark marred the wall near the front door. The door itself was fine, closed. Was it still locked?

She was thinking like a Muggle. A locked front door didn't mean much in a wizard house.

There was no sign of anyone still here – no other bodies, but what if they were disillusioned? She cast a Hominem Revelio – no one. "Were you here, Nappy? What happened?"

"No Miss. Nappy at Manor. Nappy bring breakfast." She pointed to a silver tray, laden with food, and waiting on an end table. "Miss – there is wards. If Master is danger, bells ring, bells at Manor."

Hermione kept her wand up and stepped carefully over to Draco. He was out cold, his arms above his head on the floor. Maybe he would have some answers. "Ennervate."

He groaned and shifted, sliding off the back of the sofa, then yelped as his weight went onto his injured hand. Hermione moved forward to help him, but she wasn't sure what to do.

"What time is it?" he muttered, even as he was pulling up the sleeve on his left arm, checking his mark.

"Almost 7:30. Who was it? What happened?"

His mark wasn't glowing. He leaned back onto the still-overturned sofa, and ran his left hand over his face.

"Nappy? Did you bring tea?" Nappy nodded vigorously. Hermione couldn't believe him. Tea?

"Draco, we need to know. Who was it? They're gone now, but they could come back. This isn't safe."

"Relax. We're safe. There's no need to be uncivilized."

Hermione felt the flush of anger rise over her face. She hated being told to 'relax.' "That's rich. A Death Eater telling me to be civilized. Tell me are you civilized when you . . . ."

His eyes were like ice as he cut her off. "The wards are fine. I need some tea before my brain can function."

Hermione frowned as she peered nervously around the room. "What do you mean? This is serious. We need to figure out what happened, where they went, who did this."

"I am aware of the serious nature of my situation, but the idiot who did all of this does not want to talk about it right now."

She froze, then lowered her wand. He tossed his blond fringe out of his eyes and went on. "I'll make you a deal. Make the pain stop first, then I'll explain everything." Nappy had levitated his tea to him and he took the cup with his left hand, leaving the saucer floating in the air. He closed his eyes as he savored the hot tea.

How could he just sit there, like nothing was wrong, like he owned the place. Okay, well, he did, but he should care then that it'd been demolished. "Fine." Hermione hoped his insanity wouldn't get them all killed. "Give it to me." He held his right arm up a bit as she crouched down next to him. It looked horrible, but that meant nothing. "Finite Incantatem." The color of the bruises faded, the swelling went down, but it still didn't look good – some infection remained and there was a large new welt running down his forearm.

"Ow! Hey, do the 'ambidextrius' thing again. I don't want to spill this." He gestured with his cup. It would be so easy to douse him with his own hot tea. Of course, that'd just give her more burns she'd have to heal. Did he have to work at being such a egotistical prat or did it just come naturally? How could he be so calm? She waved her wand over his left hand anyway.

She sat back on her legs and settled into healer mode. She'd just ignore the arrogant patient. The first issue was the fever. It wouldn't work to take his temperature until the full effect of the fever spell wore off. She levitated his arm over to herself, studying it carefully. "Where does it hurt?"

He raised his eyebrows at her as though he didn't believe the question. "Everywhere. It's not like it was . . . before, but it aches.."

"Here, this should help – 'confrigo.'" He immediately began to shiver, setting his teacup down with a rattle.

"Hey, I'm freezing."

"Oops." He glared at her again, clearly not believing that had been an accident. She gave a smirk. It wouldn't hurt him to remember he needed her good will. She ended the spell, then tried again, this time with a 'confrigo partialus.' "That better?"

"Yeah. What's with the cold anyway?"

"It's a Muggle thing. Cold makes it numb." He frowned at her, but she ignored him. "What's this? What did you do?" She pointed to the welt.

"Baldy gave it a smack, testing me." She bit her lip, considering how to heal that, but he shook his head. "Just leave it. It doesn't hurt now."

She cleaned the arm and then decided it was time to check his temperature. "You're still running a fever, although it's down to 100 degrees now. Take these." She handed him another antibiotic and a couple of analgesics. He took them without question, washing them down with tea.

She began to leaf through Snape's notes, looking for the numbing spell she'd seen.

"Master? Should Nappy be fixing?" She gestured around to the general devastation.

"Not yet. Let's see if Granger can figure it out." He summoned a croissant, then marmalade and a knife, all wandlessly.

Hermione tried not to marvel at how easily he did that. Then she realized that he was looking at her expectantly. "Figure what out? Who attacked you?"

"Yeah."

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Yep."

"But you won't explain it?"

"Exactly." He took a bite of his croissant and smirked at her.

She surveyed the room. His wand was still sitting on the end table next to the sofa. "The wards are working so no one broke in. You said the 'idiot' who did this is still here . . . ."

She studied the mirror. It lay broken on the floor, cracks radiating out from a point near the middle, as though it had been punched. If it had been knocked off of the wall it would've cracked evenly throughout. That meant it had been taken down before . . . .

It was starting to come together.

"You did this! You took down the mirror. You aimed a spell at it." She glanced around and saw, as she expected, his wand on the far end table. "A wandless spell. A stupefy?"

He nodded, still finishing his breakfast.

"It rebounded, much stronger than you expected. It knocked you out, knocked you over, and parts were deflected by the mirror all over the room."

"You got it in one. Twenty points to Gryffindor," he smirked. "Nappy? You can fix the room up now." He stood up and brushed off his pants as well as he could with one hand. Nappy righted the sofa first and then turned to fix the mirror.

Hermione ran a hand through her hair. "Why? Why didn't you just call me?"

"First off, we didn't figure out exactly how I should contact you. It was 3:30 in the morning. If I sent you a rune message you wouldn't get it until morning. I didn't want Nappy showing up in a roomful of Order girls. That'd lead to questions."

Hermione sighed. They'd been in such a hurry yesterday, that she hadn't explained how to get in touch with her. "I should have told you. I have a . . . locket." She wasn't sure about the locket, but he might as well know she could get messages through it. "It's got Hyacinth's picture and it's charmed to get warm if I get a message."

"What's wrong with it?" Had he always been this annoyingly perceptive?

"I don't know. I thought Hyacinth sent it, but she didn't even know about it. I'm just not sure . . . ."

"Do you have it with you?"

"No. I left it back at . . . ." She almost said 'at Grimmauld Place.' She needed to be careful, but . . . . Hermione frowned at him. "Wait a minute. How did Nappy know where to find me? How did you know?"

"Granger, you have lousy security."

"No. You're wrong. We're careful. We . . . ."

"You're all secret keepers now, right?" She frowned and nodded. "That apparently included a piece of scum named 'Mundungus.' The Dark Lord captured him. If I hadn't erased the scum's memory he would've seen your headquarters in his mind."

"What happened to Mundungus?"

Draco just shook his head, then his face darkened. "There's something else, someone else, I need to tell you about. Did you know a Hestia? Hestia Jones?"

"Hestia? Where is she? Is she captured? When?"

He shook his head again. "She was captured. She died. She did some amazing thing. You know, all captives are charmed against suicide, especially ones like her." Hermione's eyes grew wide. Did Shaklebolt know this? "He thought he'd get all sorts of stuff from her. She was an auror and all, and I saw her mind – he would have. She knew lots of things and her barrier was broken. Then she said some weird thing – something about a unicorn – and she just stopped breathing. Just like that. Do you know what that was? Was it a spell?"

Hermione shook her head. She still couldn't quite believe that Hestia was dead. It didn't seem possible. "A unicorn? What?" None of this made any sense to her. "I don't know. We're not aurors. Maybe they know something, some way . . . ."

"Okay, but Granger, there's a problem. He was furious after she died. He wanted something, something from her mind. I thought I could give him something useless. I'd seen the password to the Aurors' office, but it had a thieves' downfall. I thought it was safe to tell him the password, since we couldn't get past the water, but I didn't know Aunt Bella stole it. We're going in, . . ." He hesitated, his face was impassive, but she knew he was thinking. He made up his mind. "Tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yeah. He wants us to go in before the Order changes the password. He seems to think they won't notice Hestia's gone missing for a while. Look, you have to tell them, but try to get them to be subtle. Don't come charging right in. It can't be too obvious that you know about the raid."

"I know. We have a meeting this morning. If I hurry I might be able to catch Shaklebolt before it."

"Wait." He summoned something from the pocket of his robes, then handed her an elaborate silver key. "Use this. It's a portkey. It'll bring you here so you can get here without Nappy."

"I've got to get back soon then. How's your arm?"

"Still achy."

"That's not good. How much sleep did you get last night?"

"I dunno – almost 4 hours."

"That's not enough. You wouldn't have blasted the room apart if you hadn't been tired and in pain." Draco started to interrupt, but Hermione talked over him. "We need you at your best. You need to get some sleep. There's a spell here – it's a spell form of a pain-killing potion, but I'm not sure if I've got the motions right."

She summoned the journal over to him and showed him Snape's drawing. "Let me see. Show me the wand motion." She studied the picture one last time and then showed him what she'd been practicing earlier. "No, it's more like this." He showed her the motion with his wand. She frowned at him. "I'm more used to Severus's drawings than you are. I've seen them for years."

She did the motion again. "Is that it?"

"Better – but don't slow down at the end there. Finish with a jab." She did it again and he nodded.

"Are you ready? I'll try it."

"I guess pain is making me desperate. Give it a shot."

"Here, sit down again. Put your arm up on the back of the sofa, like that." She took the cold spell off and cast the petrifying spell. It would help with the pain and keep his arm still so she could try Snape's spell. She ran over it again in her head, checking her memory with the sketches. Draco shook his head and laughed at her thoroughness.

She took a deep breath and said "torpentem" while flourishing her wand, making sure to end with a jab, except that perhaps she overbalanced a bit and did too much of a jab. Or maybe she did the whole motion too vigorously. Whatever the cause, Draco fell back into the sofa, completely unconscious. Hermione started to revive him and then thought, why? He wanted to get some sleep. This wasn't exactly the plan, but it would work.

"Nappy? Can you stay with him a bit, watch his mark and wake him if it moves?" Nappy nodded. Hermione went ahead and finished all of the cosmetic spells she needed to do to make his arm look sufficiently injured, although she went just a bit lighter on all of them on the theory that each day his arm would improve just a bit. When she was done, she looked at the clock. It was nearly 8:30. There'd be no time to catch anyone before the meeting. She'd have to talk to Shaklebolt afterwards. Did he know about Hestia? She didn't want to have to be the one who told him.

She apparated onto the front step of Grimmauld Place and hurried into the kitchen. Everyone was just getting seated and she was annoyed to see that Harry and Ron hadn't saved her a seat. Not only that, but Harry caught her eye and glared at her, his own eyes heavy from lack of sleep. Great. Another thing that she couldn't fully explain, although the part she couldn't tell him only had to do with her role in finding Ginny. He was mad because she took her in the first place so he might not care, not yet. She found an empty seat next to Bill Weasley.

Ron sat next to Harry, resolutely staring at a spot on the wall near the door. The set of his jaw told her he was with Harry on this - mad at her because Harry was. Why couldn't they see, why wouldn't they see, that Ginny was not a puppet? She made her own decision. Hermione bit down on her own teeth to choke back the tears that threatened. She was tired. It'd been a long night.

Kingsley came in, talking to Professor McGonagall and smiling. Hermione sighed. One look told her that he didn't know about Hestia yet. Great. The room was packed now. Hermione started a "to do" list to keep herself from looking at Harry and Ron and to stop the voice in her head imagining how to tell Kingsley the bad news. She usually prioritized her lists, but right now it all seemed urgent. She needed to talk to Kingsley, as soon as the meeting was over. She needed to work on that numbing spell. Could she practice on Malfoy? She had to brew as much Wolfsbane Potion as she could, then do some research into where she might find some wild-growing wolfsbane. Since Greyback had started prowling the Forbidden Forest, their main supply has been cut off, but surely there had to be another forest somewhere where it grew.

"It's good to see you all this morning. Glad so many of you could join us on such short notice." Hermione flipped the page and prepared to take notes, something she did mainly to force herself to focus. She started by noting down those in attendance, a habit from prefect meetings that seem so long ago. Her eyes swept around the room, sliding over the two obstinate boys across from her. Then her quill froze.

Hestia Jones was sitting just behind Oliver Wood. Hermione looked down, not wanting the shock on her face to be seen.

Was he wrong? Did he get the name wrong? There was only one other female auror that Hermione knew of and she has brown hair and an eye-patch. Draco definitely described Hestia. Could he have lied? But why? He almost died to save Ginny. She was going to trust him. Although maybe he'd been deceived. Old Snake Eyes wasn't above lying to his own. Could this be some sort of trap?

The only other possibility was that this Hestia was an imposter. Hermione kept her face down, but looked up through her fringe studying Hestia. She was sitting quietly in the back, looking down at her own shoes. Wasn't Hestia usually more lively and loud than that? Of course, she could be having an off day. Anyone could have an off day, but if she was an imposter wouldn't she try to stay quiet and talk very little, to draw as little attention as possible.

How could an imposter have gotten in? According to Draco the real Hestia had been captured during the St. Mungo's raid. Someone, presumably a Death Eater, would have had to have the polyjuice ready, but then, how hard would it have been to grab a hold of one of the others as they apparated to Grimmauld Place, or just listen if someone accidentally mentioned where they were going, thinking that they were among friends?

Draco was right. Their security was lousy.

And now what was she up to? Would she be reporting every word of this meeting back to the Dark Lord? What if someone said something that implicated Draco? If she herself had mentioned the planned raid at the ministry, which she had been planning to do, the Dark Lord would know there was a spy. What if she'd seen Nappy the night before? Would the elf be recognized?

Hermione's stomach lurched with fear. Could she sneak out of the meeting and go warn him? Of course not. If this was a spy the last thing she should do would be something conspicuous, something to draw attention to herself. She looked down at her blank sheet of paper – she'd taken no notes – and tried to calm herself, tried to draw deep breaths, make her heartbeat slow.

She tried to force herself to focus on the meeting, but she couldn't do it. Every other second another hazard of having a spy in the house would occur to her. Maybe she should stand up and yell "She's an imposter!" But if the spy had a portkey, she could vanish on the spot and then the Dark Lord would question how anyone had known there was a spy?

And what if there was another one? How careless had they been?

She knew her thoughts were spinning into paranoia now, or were they? Bill looked sideways at her, puzzled. His senses were heightened. He could probably smell her panic, hear her racing heart.

"Thanks again for coming. I'll need those reports by tomorrow, day after at the latest. Could all the Aurors stay? We've got a few more things to cover."

She hadn't heard a thing. She'd have to ask someone later, maybe Neville, not Harry or Ron, what she'd missed.

As soon as the others started standing, milling about, she was out the door and down the hall. She snuck into the front sitting room, and once she knew no one was watching she grabbed the portkey and in an instant she was back at the cottage.

Nappy was still standing guard, Draco still out on the sofa. Hermione paused for a moment. She'd never seen his face so calm, so relaxed, almost gentle.

"Miss? You is back. Will Miss be wanting tea?"

"No, thank you. I need to talk to Draco – alone."

Nappy didn't so much as raise an eyebrow and she vanished. Hermione bit her lip. She hadn't meant to be so rude, but there was no time for that now.

"Ennervate."

Malfoy stretched without opening his eyes, then flinched as he accidentally moved his healing arm.

"Draco, hurry, wake up. We have a problem." Hermione hated the way her voice sounded – high-pitched, too fast, like she was panicking – maybe because she was.

"Hermione? What? What happened? How long have I been out? What did you do?"

In her haste she'd completely forgotten that he hadn't exactly agreed to have her knock him out with that spell. "Oh, that. I guess I kind of overdid the numbing spell. It knocked you out, but I just let you sleep. Don't worry. I had Nappy watch your mark while I was gone."

"So what's got your knickers in a twist then?"

"I saw her. I went to our meeting and she was there. She must be an imposter. We have a spy. How do we know there's only one?" Hermione babbled.

"Hold on. Breathe. You saw who?"

"Hestia. Hestia Jones. She was at the meeting."

"Are you sure?" Draco sat straight up, fully awake now.

"Yes. Are you sure it was her you saw?"

"Yes . . . . well, . . . wait. I've never seen her before. It was someone who said her name was 'Hestia Jones,' someone with memories of the Order, of being an Auror."

"Do you have a pensieve? Can you show me who you saw?"

"We've got one, but it's at the Manor. It can't be moved, not without . . . . look, there's an easier way. Have you ever done legilimency?"

"Yes, just once. It was a while ago. I . . . well, it wasn't very pleasant."

"Pleasant?" The smirk was back. "It's not meant to be a tea party. Give me a moment. I'll put all my other thoughts away, especially anything 'unpleasant.' I'll just leave the memory of Hestia, the one I saw." He ran his hand over his face. Hermione regretted not having Nappy leave tea, or maybe something stronger. "I'm ready." He was so calm about this. How could he just invite her into his mind?

Her wand hand shook a bit. Damn all this adrenaline. She took a calming breath, stared into his grey eyes and said "Legilimens."

She was there – she smelled the dank cave, her arm ached something fierce, she could feel the fear – not just Draco's but all around her, radiating off of all of them. There before her, bound, dirty, bloody and furious was Hestia Jones. She groaned as she sat up and glared at the Dark Lord.

That was her. The intensity was there. It'd been missing from the one in the meeting, the one who seemed a meek shadow of this witch.

The Dark Lord was ordering her to plunder Hestia's mind, saying he'd do it too. It was so dangerous.

Hermione felt something – a nudge. It reminded her. She'd seen enough. She wasn't sure how to end this, but she thought about leaving, thought about returning to the cottage, and there she was, safe once again and out of that hideous cave.

"That was her." Hermione reached down to make sure the sofa was there and sank down into it.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"How can you stand it? That was horrible – the smell, the fear, your arm. And what was that about Zabini? He's in danger?"

Draco leaned forward. "You got all of that from . . . just that? Thank God the Dark Lord's not as perceptive as you are."

"What? Isn't that what's supposed to happen? It was like I was you."

"No. At least it's not usually that intense. For me, it's more like watching a play. I can't believe you even picked up the Zabini thing. I'm not letting you back into my brain." He said it lightly, trying to ease her mind, but she was still shaking.

"She's dead then and the other one, who is that? What do we do? Who can we trust? I didn't tell them about the Ministry attack. I don't know who to tell. Harry's not speaking to me. Ron either. What if Kingsley knows? What if he's a spy too? Why didn't they question her?"

"Hermione, stop." He grabbed her arm. "Let's get some tea. Sort this out."

She nodded, but she could still feel the cave, still smell Hestia's blood.

"Hermione. You're not breathing. Breathe. We can do this."

She took a deep breath but then she couldn't hold it in. She turned, thinking she would get away, at least go into another room, but it was too late. A sob tore out of her, and she was crying, shaking. She couldn't stop it. It wouldn't stop. Then she was pressed up against Draco's chest, his arms holding her as she came apart.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been sobbing, when she realized that he was quietly 'shushing' her, stroking her hair, trying to calm her. She pulled back, embarrassed, her breaths still shuddering.

"I'm sorry. I . . . ."

He shook his head and reached up to catch a small glass vial he must have summoned silently. He held it up to her face and her tears were pulled into it as if by a magnet.

"What is . . . ."

"Don't ever waste your tears, Granger. They're too valuable. Come here." He stood up and motioned with his head. "I have a book you need to see."

He'd found the most perfect words of comfort to speak to Hermione - not that she would ever tell him that. No need to make the biggest ego in the world any bigger.