Chapter beginning notes: sorry for the confusion with chapter 56. I posted my (uber scary borderline dead dove) one-shot by accident, that chapter has been posted correctly now. I apologize if anyone read something they weren't prepared for. the correct chapter is up now.

Chapter 57

July 1998

Hermione and Ron arrived at Malfoy Manor Polyjuiced as a married, middle aged couple, both Ministry officials. She worked in the Portkey Division, he worked in the Ancient Artifacts Division. Hermione's department was highly in demand, and she could use her position as an excuse to talk to nearly anyone present. Ron's department would, of course, have a natural interest in the Hufflepuff Cup. Harry arrived separately as Stan Shunpike. Although not Inner Circle, Shunpike would have an excuse to talk with any known Death Eater.

Shunpike and the Ministry officials were currently confounded and incapacitated in their homes.

The trio agreed that Harry would be adequate at keeping up the Polyjuiced pretense by himself. Ron would be better off mostly silent, with Hermione at his side to handle the majority of the talking. However, she had to be careful about bringing up the topic of the Hufflepuff Cup without revealing the reason they were asking about it.

She also didn't know how to figure out whom Voldemort would trust with its safekeeping.

It was a dangerous mission but the trio was stuck. They needed a lead and wouldn't find one holed up in Order safe houses. Nervously, she entered the ballroom with Ron, fingers wrapped around his elbow.

Hermione scanned the room. There were five hundred people here at least, both inside the ornately decorated ballroom, and outside, spilling into the gardens. A quartet played music in the corner and house elves ensured the food was plentiful and the alcohol flowing. All the men were dressed in black formal robes and the women were adorned in colorful, sometimes glittering dresses. She observed Kingsley talking with Umbridge and someone else she didn't recognize.

She narrowed her eyes at Kingsley. All her research into the legalities of pardons indicated that he was hiding something. But how could she find out what it was? She shifted her gaze to Umbridge and stifled a nervous chuckle at the memory of smashing Umbridge's kitten themed plates prior to burning her house to the ground. Ron must have been thinking the same thing and shook with barely concealed laughter.

"Umph," he grunted as she elbowed him.

The danger of their situation somehow made it harder to keep from laughing. Ron gazed down at her with an anxious grin and she steered him in a different direction before one of them laughed out loud.

Some guests parted as Bellatrix sauntered through, her arm laced through Rudolphus'. Her black curly hair was piled loosely on her head and her hips swayed confidently as she walked among the guests. Everyone was terrified of her, including Hermione, and regarded her deferentially. In a brief moment of panic, Hermione glanced over at Harry/Stan Shunpike, worried what he would do when faced with Sirius' killer. With relief, she saw him clench his jaw and abruptly turn away.

Good. He was keeping himself together.

Hermione squeezed Ron's arm and murmured, "Let's go mingle on the opposite side of the room as her."

Ron didn't need any convincing. Fear at her presence wouldn't be perceived as anything out of the ordinary. They wouldn't give themselves away by avoiding her. The two strolled around together past a tray of wine glasses, and she plucked one off the tray for him.

Ron shook his head. "I don't want anything to drink tonight."

Hermione pressed it into his chest. "It'll give you something to do with your hand besides clenching it into a fist. And a sip here and there won't hurt. It'll look more natural."

"Fine."

She sighed in relief and took a glass of wine for herself. Bellatrix's presence was unnerving.

Hermione scanned the crowd, wondering where to start and saw Draco over in a corner with Theodore Nott, Gregory Goyle and Pansy Parkinson. He looked so different in his formal robes. She was used to him in jeans and T-shirts, pajamas, occasionally her father's black leather jacket.

Scruffy and tousled.

Now he was elegant. His hair styled and combed back instead loose, always falling into his eyes. His posture was perfect, his movements measured and deliberate. The perfect aristocrat; a costume Draco donned with ease.

Hermione caught a glimpse of his posh persona when he slipped into it addressing the elderly museum docent. At the time, she thought it endearing. He had also given Hermione a mock bow when she taught him the Patronus, using that part of his life to amuse and pacify her. It was different to see him acting as such for so long. He was a completely different person, and yet the same.

She wondered what Draco was like as a Death Eater, and felt her bowels go cold at the thought. She knew it was another costume he had to wear. She was as much terrified for him as the victims of his wand.

Parkinson patted his chest affectionately and stretched up to kiss his cheek. Draco raised an eyebrow at something she said and laughed. It was obvious how close they were from the way they regarded each other and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. Parkinson leaned into Nott and he put his arm around her, drawing her close.

She knew Parkinson and Draco had dated in the past and they were still friends now. Just like she and Victor were. Just like she and Ron were. From the body language, it seemed Parkinson was with Nott now anyway.

Hermione felt like an outsider looking into Draco's life. She knew nothing about this side of him and had no part in it. She was hidden. A forbidden secret. His friends and family had claim to a part of him that she never would and Hermione felt a sense of loss.

Draco seemed to belong here with them, and not with her.

Ron must have noticed the direction of her stare because he grumbled, "Fucking Malfoy. He started this damn war."

She couldn't argue with that.

Looking around the room he said, "I have no idea where to start."

That was Draco's critique of this operation as well. It was a valid one but they had no leads. The trio was stuck and the war depended on them destroying the Hufflepuff Cup. They had to start taking risks. They had to do something.

"Give it a chance," she replied, scanning the crowd. "We haven't been here for more than ten minutes. You never know when-"

Hermione gasped.

Her Occlumency teacher just entered the ballroom on the arm of Blaise Zabini.

Hermione watched gob smacked as the attractive woman sauntered in with a smile, receiving a number of appreciative glances from the men she passed. At once, she understood why the witch had looked so familiar. Her mentor had the same light brown eyes, nose and facial features as… Blaise must be her son. Hermione had heard rumors about his mother and how she became a wealthy woman. She had spent enough time with her – she had no doubt they were all true.

And she was teaching Hermione Occlumency.

And Kingsley trusted her.

Hermione was horrified at his lack of scruples at enlisting the help of a murderess, but she supposed they had to take help where they could get it. She wasn't murdering for blood purity, but for financial gain. As Zabini's mother had explained, skilled Legilimens were rare. Kingsley was pragmatic and knew which battles were worth fighting in pursuit of the larger goal.

Hermione could respect that reasoning. She was often the same.

But could you trust someone that murdered for financial gain?

You couldn't. Absolutely not. They'd betray you if the price was right.

Kingsley was trusting a murderess with the three of the four biggest secrets the Order had: Kingsley's involvement, Draco spying and the Horcruxes. The only thing Blaise's mother didn't know was where the Order was hiding.

But her Occlumency teacher killed for money. Who was to say she wouldn't sell them all out? Why in the world was Kingsley trusting her? How did he know he could? Blaise's mother specialized in taking advantage of men.

Was she playing both sides to see who would win?

Zabini's mother caught her gaze. After a moment of confusion, she sent Hermione the same disapproving stare she used when Hermione failed in their lessons together. Immediately, Hermione cloaked herself in emotionless apathy. She barely caught her mentor's nod of approval before Blaise and his mother turned to chat with other guests.

Hermione was floored, and then felt a rush of terror. Her mentor knew her thoughts right then and there. She had finished her Occlumency lessons, but would there be repercussions for Hermione figuring out who she was?

But Kingsley knew, and he trusted her.

Who else did Kingsley have working with the Order?

After giving his mother a quick peck on the cheek, Blaise walked over to join Draco chatting with the other Slytherins, leaving his mother alone. Immediately, two wizards approached her and she smiled flirtatiously at them while they did their best to outdo each other for her attentions.

Hermione remembered her mentor's promise to help with the Horcruxes. If anyone would be able to figure out who had the Hufflepuff Cup here tonight, it was her. But would she even help if Hermione knew who she was?

Kingsley said she hadn't been able to find out anything about Wembley Stadium. Was that even true?

It had to be. Blaise's mother knew enough to bury the Order five times over if she wanted to. She could have finished the war long ago if that was her purpose.

She was on their side. She had to be.

Hermione squared her shoulders and turned to Ron.

"I have to talk to someone but you need to stay here. Just five minutes and I'll be back, alright?"

He looked at her suspiciously. "Where are you going?"

"I think I have a lead, but they won't talk to me if I'm with you."

Ron glared down at her, rearing for a fight. He was still pissed off that Hermione refused to explain where she got the Horcrux from.

"You're going to have to trust me on this one," she whispered. "We can't fight about it here."

He flared his nostrils and yanked his arm out of her hand angrily, stalking away. She wondered if she and Harry should have come alone. If Ron wasn't able to control his temper, they'd be caught for sure.

Hermione took a deep breath, plastered a smile on her face and concentrated on cultivating a contented apathy as she approached Zabini's mother. Her mentor tilted her head as Hermione approached.

"Madam Zabini, if I'm already seeing you here, I wanted to discuss with you the difficulties we were having with your Portkey to Greece."

She raised her eyebrows. The two men next to her were visibly annoyed that Hermione had stolen the attractive witch's attention away from them.

"That's considerate of you to let me know. How about I find you in an hour to chat? I haven't yet finished speaking with these wonderful gentlemen," she winked at them and they chuckled. "And I'd like to get another cup." She raised her half-filled glass of wine, indicating that she knew exactly what Hermione wanted her to do.

Working with a Legilimens had its advantages.

"Cheers," Hermione raised her own glass.

Blaise's mum peered over her shoulder and Hermione thought she saw a flash of rage in her eyes. But before she knew what she was looking at, the fury was gone, replaced by sultry flirtation. Hermione glanced around to see what had caught her mentor's attention but only saw Blaise and Daphne Greengrass sharing a drink together.

She walked back to Ron, silently fuming in a corner with his hands shoved in the pockets of his dress robes.

"One hour and we may have something to work with," Hermione told him.

Ron was determined in giving her the silent treatment so she scanned the ballroom. Her eyes were drawn to Draco again and she watched him bow and kiss the hand of a tall, slim, attractive brunette who just arrived and was obviously enjoying his attentions. Hermione recognized her from the Slytherin house. Perhaps a year younger? Her hair was expertly done, swept up with a few curls hanging down her neck. Her dress was elegant and expensive looking. Shimmering silver, sleeveless with a plunging backline. Draco drew her in affectionately and placed his hand on her lower back where the skin was exposed, and led her around the ballroom.

Hermione watched his hand, his long fingers resting there. On that woman. On her skin.

She couldn't suppress the surge of hurt and jealousy that fired through her. Was he cheating on her? No. Of course not. Draco knew she would be here. He knew she would see. It was a role he had to play, just like his role as Death Eater. Just like with that intern he was seducing at the Ministry. As he had told her, his life was not his. He was trapped.

Even so, she wished he didn't look so pleased to be with the young woman.

And did she have to be so beautiful?

Hermione quietly observed him as he handed her a glass of wine, fingers delicately holding the stem out to her. She took it, wrapping her fingers around his with a small, sensual smile. He offered her his arm and she lightly gripped his elbow while he led her around the room, introducing her to some Ministry officials that were high enough in the bureaucracy that even Hermione recognized them.

Once again, it was a side of Draco Malfoy she had never seen before. Not the bully she loathed in school, not the passionate, rebellious spy she loved now. With that witch, he was a diplomatic aristocrat, wooing her properly at a ball.

Hermione yearned for this part of him too. She wanted all of him. She couldn't prevent the emptiness forming inside her at the thought that this part of his life didn't belong to her too. Sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, the beginnings of tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

Draco must have sensed her gaze upon him because he glanced over at her, grey eyes icy and guarded. So different from the intense, barely contained passion she was used to. Hermione turned away immediately, pretending to survey several people in the ballroom. It wouldn't do for him to know who she was disguised as.

Ron looked down at her, breaking his silent treatment. "You're keeping things from us."

"Can we discuss it afterwards?" she sighed impatiently. "Now is not the time. And you should take your… medication."

Hermione extracted a vial of Polyjuice out of her clutch, quickly downed it when she thought no one was looking, and then vanished the vial. Ron did the same. She searched the room for Harry to remind him.

"Let's look for Harry and make sure he takes his as well. It's about time."

Ron nodded and they strolled slowly around the ballroom together watching the elegant guests mingle, drink and snack on hors d'oeuvers. After several minutes they crossed Draco's path. The elegant witch was still holding onto his elbow and he spoke to several Ministry officials who laughed at something he said. She nearly brushed him as she passed by, and tucked her arm in closer to avoid contact.

Hermione couldn't help herself, and snuck a glance as she and Ron walked by. Draco's muscular body was hidden but the angles she was familiar with showed through, hinting at what was underneath. He was clean shaven instead of with a days' scruff or more. She longed to run her fingers through his perfectly styled hair and mess it up so it would flop in front of his eyes again.

He held the stem of a glass of wine with long graceful fingers. Fingers that had touched every inch of her body. Fingers that had made her come, made her scream, made her cry, made her moan.

Hermione was unable to draw her eyes away. Draco met her stare and furrowed his brows in suspicion while she passed him. She was going to get him in trouble. He was focusing on finding out who might have the Hufflepuff Cup anyway, better leave him to it. She tore her gaze away to focus on someone else.

Glancing back, she saw his grey eyes studying her over an unknown woman's shoulder while he sipped his wine.

Bollocks. He must know it's her now.

She continued on her circuit around the room, craning her neck while she and Ron searched for Harry.

A large man Hermione didn't recognize sneered at them and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'useless tossers at the Ministry.'

"Jugson," Ron whispered to her.

"What's that?"

"Jugson," Ron repeated. Hermione watched the large man down his drink in one go. "He's one of the Inner Circle Death Eaters. We should tail him for a bit; try and see who he's talking to and what he's talking about."

"We could butt into the conversation," she added, still scanning the room for Harry.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Jugson's not the type to brag about artifacts but having someone else talking with him might help open him up."

They stopped near the large Death Eater, waiting for him to strike up a conversation with someone, while still searching for Harry. Hermione had no idea where he had gotten to and was beginning to worry when all of a sudden he appeared in front of them.

"They're here," Harry whispered, low and breathless.

"Who?" Ron asked, apprehension in his voice at Harry's nervous state.

Hermione was grateful for the loud background noise created by everyone's chatter and the music, but she walked them away from Jugson anyway. No one would overhear them if they kept their voices low.

"Luna, Ollivander, the Order members," Harry explained, still whispering. "In the dungeons below. I overheard Yaxley and Mulciber talking outside."

Hermione felt a barrage of emotions all at once. Panic, because she knew their mission tonight just became infinitely more complicated. Shock and relief in that the captured Order members were still alive. And betrayal, because Draco had lied to her. He had let her think they were all executed.

She snapped her gaze back to him. He was surreptitiously watching her over the rim of his wine glass and then angled his face away, nodding at something an older wizard said.

"I thought they were dead!" Ron whispered back furiously. "How do we get there?"

"Wait, you two." Her authoritative tone caused them to turn down to look at her. "Think. First."

"But we have to–" Harry protested.

"Yes, I know," Hermione said firmly, cutting him off. "But it won't help them any if we're caught." She looked pointedly at Harry's pocket. "Did you take your medicine?"

He stared back at her. "What do you– oh."

Harry glanced around warily, faced the wall and downed the vial of Polyjuice. She sighed in relief. Merlin, that was close. Too close.

"I'm getting answers about the cup in forty-five minutes," she informed him. "So we can't get them out now."

"Alright," Ron said glancing around the ballroom. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet and looked down at Hermione. "You wait here; we'll wander around, see what we can find out in the meantime."

"Split up, meet back here then?" Harry asked, eying the two of them. "Just outside the garden?"

"Stay far away from Bellatrix," she warned them. "Don't give her an excuse to take an interest in you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "We're not suicidal, Hermione."

"Sorry." She'd forgotten how experienced they were. Much more than she was. "Can I still tell you both to be careful?"

Her boys each turned to her with matching half grins. Unsettling and yet comforting coming from Stan Shunpike and a middle aged Ministry employee.

"I suppose," Ron answered.

She smiled back nervously and watched them as they meandered off into the crowd, trying to figure out where the dungeons were.

Hermione found a spot on a wall and leaned against it, sipping her wine and eyeing the crowd while she waited for Madam Zabini. Lucius Malfoy had his hand on the small of Narcissa's back as he led her around the room, just like Draco had with that younger witch. Narcissa held a glass of wine, laughing and leaving smiling guests in her wake. The perfect hostess. Bellatrix stood against the buffet table, tapping long, black nails impatiently while Rabastan whispered something in her ear. Bellatrix's red lips curled upwards and Hermione abruptly looked away. It wouldn't do to look at Bellatrix or be near her lest she catch her attention. She saw Blaise with Daphne Greengrass, the two of them holding hands as they walked outside.

Hermione perused the crowd and startled when she noticed Draco leaning against another food table, by himself, staring directly at her from across the room. Their eyes met and he took a long sip from his wine glass, his grey gaze unwavering. She looked away, feeling incredibly hurt and betrayed after they discussed the necessity for honesty and trust. Especially when it concerned the lives of people she cared about.

He had been lying to her for a long time. And she was still lying to him.

She hated this war.

She was also hurt that he had been with that witch even though she knew she shouldn't be. It was an act.

Draco walked away. She thought he had gone off to mingle again but after several minutes he reappeared in her peripheral vision, leaning against the wall three feet away from her, staring out at the crowd.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking away from her and sipping his wine.

She looked straight ahead towards Kingsley while he socialized with a few others. Kingsley was someone else she couldn't entirely trust.

"Dungeons."

He stiffened. "Don't," he said, his voice threatening.

She flared her nostrils. "Too late," she spat back at him.

Hermione searched for Zabini's mother and caught her eye while she spoke with Narcissa. Madame Zabini gave her the slightest of nods. Hermione strolled outside into the cool evening air, willing her to follow, and left Draco glowering after her.

She didn't know what he'd do after direct defiance like that. He couldn't do anything. It's not like they were in her bedroom.

A few moments later Madam Zabini appeared outside and Hermione ambled around the topiary where they wouldn't be seen. Her mentor appeared behind her and she cast a Muffliato.

"If someone has it, it's either Severus or Bellatrix." Her light brown, sultry eyes sparkled in the moonlight, as did the ruby pendant on the gold necklace she was wearing.

Hermione's eyes widened. "How do you know?"

"Aside from Draco, they're the only ones I can't read. Process of elimination."

Snape and Bellatrix. The two most difficult people to get to, aside from Voldemort himself.

"Were you able to discover anything about Wembley?" Hermione pressed, even though Kingsley said she hadn't.

She shook her head. "Kingsley already asked. No one knows, their memories have been wiped." She inhaled a slow deep breath while glancing over Hermione's shoulder back towards the opening to the ballroom. She brought her eyes back to Hermione's. "Your friends are going to cause trouble and you'll be caught. You got what you came for. Leave now. Too much is at stake."

And without another word, she sauntered back towards the house, swaying her hips in the form fitting red dress. Hermione turned around and saw Harry and Ron perusing the grounds, waiting for her. Both their gazes were drawn to Blaise's mother and they gawked as she passed them on the way back in. Hermione waited a few minutes so they wouldn't realize she had just been talking with Madam Zabini and then stood in their view until they noticed her. She descended further into the garden and they followed. She stopped once she reached a secluded corner and waited for them to catch up.

They appeared and Harry cast the Muffliato this time.

Ron looked down at her, speaking quickly and quietly. "We found the dungeons. You can reach them through a staircase behind the drawing room."

"Where's the drawing room?" she asked.

"Down the corridor and to the right. Turn left after exiting the double doors of the ball room. There's only one guard," Ron explained. "Greyback."

Hermione sneered in disgust.

"We don't know how many they're keeping here," Harry said, anxious from what they were about to do.

"That shouldn't be too much of a problem. You've got your Portkey?" Hermione asked, wondering why he was so bothered.

"No!" Harry whispered violently. "It's in my jeans pocket back at Westchester."

"For fuck's sake!" Ron blew out a breath in exasperation.

"Harry!" Hermione rubbed her forehead at his forgetfulness. "Don't you always have it on missions? That's the only reason leadership lets you go in the first place! I specifically made–"

"I forgot when we changed clothes!" he interrupted. "I know! I'm an idiot!"

Now she understood his agitation. That complicated things tremendously.

"We have three vials of Polyjuice left, correct?" Hermione knew they would be making an impossible decision in the next few moments.

Harry nodded, agonizing over their limited resources and his forgetfulness.

"We have to take them up the stairs, through the drawing room, down the corridor, past the ballroom, through the main entrance and out towards the Apparition point," Ron explained, also not liking the direction of the conversation.

"There's no other exits?" Hermione asked.

"There are," Harry answered. "But the gates on the grounds complicate the exit route and Nagini's outside. She'll see through the Polyjuice just like You-Know-Who."

"We'll be visible the entire way out," Hermione said, stating the obvious.

"Yes," Harry agreed, his voice rising with anxiety.

"So we can only take three, and only three that can walk," Hermione replied, anticipating a row.

"We can't do that," Harry countered.

"We have to take them all, Hermione" Ron hissed through his teeth.

Hermione closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. Despite their experience, Harry wouldn't make decisions like these. Neither would Ron. They'd never been in a position where they had to leave someone behind before.

They had no choice.

"Let's get back to Tonks and see where to go from there," she suggested, kicking the can down the road.

Harry clasped her hand and she opened her eyes. "Hermione." It wasn't Harry's eyes imploring her through the Polyjuice but she recognized the expression. "Promise me we'll come back for them."

"I can't," she said, willing him to understand that they would do the best they could. "And it won't do us any good if we return with no one and end up in the dungeons ourselves. You know that don't you?"

Neither of them answered.

"We didn't come prepared for a rescue operation," she reminded them.

"It's not right, Hermione," Ron argued.

"We know they're here and we can get them out," Harry implored her. "We owe it to them."

"We do," Hermione agreed, hoping that would mollify them at least until they made it back. "We'll get three, then we tell Tonks when we know more about what we're dealing with. Alright?"

They didn't answer.

"We can't save anyone unless we're all in agreement," she said. "Fight later at the safe house. Five minutes and we'll discuss coming back with Tonks. Five minutes, that's all I ask."

Briefly, she felt sorry at the mess she was dumping on Tonks' lap right now. She already had a nursing baby and sleepless nights to deal with, but Hermione didn't know how else she was going to get Ron and Harry out of here.

They would never leave anyone behind. But it was impossible to take them all.

"Five minutes, Harry," she repeated. "Tonks will have a solution."

Tonks wouldn't have a solution. There was none. They'd have to leave some behind and Harry and Ron would hate themselves.

"Alright," Harry ground out reluctantly.

Ron grunted his agreement.

"Who's down there again?" Hermione asked, relieved that they'd given in.

"Greyback," Ron answered. "You and I will go first and take him out." He glanced up at Harry. "Count to sixty and follow."

Harry nodded. She glanced at Ron and put her hand through his elbow, feeling the adrenaline race through her. They'd get a few prisoners back. But she had no doubt the aftermath would be horrific. Ron stood up straighter, more confident now that they were enacting a plan with a clear purpose.

"We're married. And useless tossers at the Ministry," he joked. "Smile."

She plastered a grin to her face and they re-entered the ballroom. Hermione saw Draco out of the corner of her eye whispering to his mother. Narcissa was smiling and nodding, a hand on her chest. Draco caught her eye as she exited the ballroom to the hallway, his expression was unreadable.

What was he doing?

Next chapter: what Draco was doing.