A/N:

Just wanted to say thanks to Music96 and annaea3077 for their reviews. They make me happy! Thanks to Kyonomiko for taking the time to review each chapter: You are awesome. Sending everyone elevated hand slaps.

creativelymundane

Chapter Four: To Cause a Scene

April 1999

Muggle London

Where the bloody hell was his contact for the Order? The man was fifteen minutes late and the rain was coming down with a vengeance. It wouldn't be long before Draco was missed back at the Manor, and he had no intention of fielding questions about his whereabouts. His Muggle coat was barely keeping the water out. He felt a drop of water trickle down his neck and decided he was through waiting. That's when he saw the man leaning against the lamp post across the street, a red kerchief tucked in his back pocket. He hated all the little identifying signs, the code words. It almost felt like he was waiting for a blind date. 'Meet me at the pub. I'll be wearing a blue shirt and holding a red rose.'

Draco made his way over and stood next to him, hands tucked into his trousers.

The man glanced over at him. "You must be mad to wear that jacket in this weather."

"How do you know I'm mad?" Draco felt relief at hearing the code. He was tired of being wet.

He responded with the correct answer. "You must be or wouldn't have come here."

Suddenly, the man flipped his hood back and grinned at Draco. Harry. Fucking. Potter.

"Fine day for spying, isn't it Ferret?"

Longbottom and Finnegan had beaten a hasty retreat once they realized that a fight was brewing. So much for the Gryffindor courage. Kingsley Shacklebolt stood behind his desk, leaning forward on his arms with dark hands splayed on the scarred wooden surface. Ronald Weasley was less obviously dangerous as he leaned a hip negligently against the outside of the wide desk, his wand out, but not aimed at anyone in particular. The two goons to his left were angry and just waiting to do violence. They all towered over the woman currently seething with righteous indignation, who appeared to neither notice nor care that she was outnumbered. She had stalked into the room after dispersing the crowd in the hall and immediately began laying into the men waiting for her.

Draco stood in the back of the room next Pansy. He clucked his tongue quietly. "Temper, temper, Granger," he muttered.

"Think she'll hex any of them?" Pansy was positively excited by the ridiculous display going on in front of them. Theo and Blaise were behind her, waiting for the fallout with impatience. Both Draco's mother and Persia looked positively bored.

"I was nearly spit on, Ronald!" Granger punctuated her words with finger jabs. "What the hell have you done?"

"What have I done?" The wanker was too self-assured. He looked almost amused at her ire. "A better question to ask yourself, 'Mione."

"A fucking mob? Have you lost your mind?" Granger seemed to be ignoring Shacklebolt completely.

"Why do you think I had anything to do with this?" The ginger shrugged. "People are upset, Hermione. They want their anger to be known."

"I don't believe for one minute that it wasn't you stirring the pot. That disgusting, smug look on your face is evidence enough."

"Calm down, Ms. Granger," Shacklebolt said lowly. She took a breath and relaxed her shoulders, but didn't take her eyes off Weasley.

"Did you know about this, Kingsley?" she demanded.

"I was not aware of the severity of the situation until just a few minutes ago." Shacklebolt was glaring daggers at Weasley. "I was also unaware that the level of discontent had become so dangerous."

Draco had never met Shacklebolt in person, but his opinion of the man was sinking further by the minute. He was unaware that a mob had formed outside his office? No wonder they were losing this war. Draco had a feeling that the results of this confrontation would directly relate to the safety of his people. Politicians were always overly concerned with popular opinion, and if the gathering in the hall was any indicator, the soldiers here at Hogwarts were none too happy about their presence.

Weasley smiled smugly. "I think it's just the right amount of discontent, considering what's at stake here. We've got fucking Death Eaters among us."

"They're on our side, you idiot. Or didn't you know that part?" Granger shot Draco a look of apology. Was she actually worried that he would be offended? He resisted the urge to sneer at her. None of them needed her pity.

"Also, none of us are technically Death Eaters except for Draco," Theo piped up.

"That's . . . not helping." Blaise elbowed him.

Weasley plowed on as if none of them had spoken. "Our side? Even if Malfoy's been spying for us, that doesn't mean he's not dangerous." The Weasel had some sense. Draco was shocked. "And he forced you to bring his friends? Looks like an invasion to me." Even if he was a bit overdramatic.

"Don't be so ridiculous!" Granger looked at the man pityingly. "This is just another example of you flying off the handle before you know all the facts."

His face darkened. Suddenly, he wasn't so amused. "How could you bring them here, 'Mione? The one place we have left that's safe!" Weasley stepped towards Granger menacingly, towering over the much smaller woman. There was a glint in his eyes that Draco recognized. The hair on his arm stood straight up. Draco found himself at her shoulder suddenly, his borrowed wand held at the ready. Weasley had been more than happy to ignore Draco's presence until that moment. He noticed the length of wood gripped in Draco's hand and his eyes widened in horror.

"You're arming them as well?" He raged. "HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND?"

The two men behind Weasley shouted and drew their wands. Time seemed to slow down as Draco's killer instincts woke up. He observed their movements and battled with himself. The dark voice in his head told him to use the borrowed wand and kill the threatening three men. The more rational part of his brain immediately smothered those homicidal thoughts. They would all be thrown in prison and possibly executed. He studied the goons, deciding they were not much of a threat anyway. It was unlikely they would try to murder Draco with the Gryffindor Princess standing close enough to be harmed, no matter how angry they were. He decided to swallow his pride and drop the wand. It clattered when it hit the floor.

In the handful of seconds it took him to come to this conclusion and raise his empty hands in front of him, one of the men had shoved forward, while the other stepped back and to the side, leaving Weasley in the center. It was a common attack position. Draco felt the killer instinct laugh at him. Told you so. Even so, he was sure they wouldn't attack. There was more shouting, which Draco ignored as he flung his open hand over his shoulder, ordering Theo and Blaise to stay put. He didn't have to look back to know they would be responding to the violence hanging heavy in the air. The last thing he needed was a full melee in the Minister's office. He was also reluctant to reveal just how much damage he and his people could do without the use of a wand.

Suddenly, the man in the back jabbed his wand in the air, and it spat green sparks across the room. Granger had apparently cast a small shield charm in front of herself the moment she had realized what was happening. The sparks skittered off her charm harmlessly, but Draco had no such protection and was hit directly in the face. He curled away from the impact with a grunt and then swung back around. It wasn't a fully formed hex, but Draco felt the skin around one eye already starting to swell and darken. He heard a snarl work its way up his throat. The killer instinct was winning. Then Granger was standing in front of him, her feet planted widely and her wand held out horizontally in front of her, ready to cast another shield charm.

"Drop your wands!" she shouted.

Weasley looked dumbstruck. As he stared at Granger's back, Draco could admit to a similar feeling. Only his mother had ever physically put herself between Draco and danger. Now this woman, who had every reason to hate him, and hadn't even spoken to him in seven years, was offering herself as a shield. What kind of game was she playing? Then it occurred to him that she did it because she was a good person, not because she wanted something. The idea made his skin crawl.

Shacklebolt was standing with his arms crossed, a thunderous look on his face. He didn't seem terribly bothered by the accidental hex, and Draco wondered if such things were common practice. "That. Is. Enough."

The man who had thrown the hex looked positively ill. "Sorry, Cap," he muttered to Granger. "This new wand don't work like the old one did. Wasn't trying to hurt you."

"Sod off, Amos."

"There will be no more of this kind of violence in my office," Shackelbolt said quietly. "Or anywhere else on Hogwarts grounds."

Harry Potter chose that moment to enter the office. He stopped short. He was breathing heavily and leaning on his cane. "What the bloody hell is the going on?"

"A sorry display of incompetence by two of our best leaders." Shacklebolt folded his arms.

"Right." Potter straightened as best he could. "You two," he pointed to Weasley's buffoons. "Get out." They complied quickly.

"Hello Potter." Draco took in his old nemesis.

"Malfoy." The milky white of Potter's bad eye was a startling contrast to the still-bright green of the other. It appeared that the entire left side of his body was no longer working properly. A year could a lot of damage it would seem.

Potter attempted to grin, but only one half of his face obeyed. "Bit of sight these days," he joked. Draco realized he had probably been staring.

"Actually, I'm impressed." Draco admitted. "I was quite sure you'd be a vegetable by now. Well done."

"I've got a pretty good team keeping alive. There may be no cure for that damned curse, but I plan to see this war to the end."

Draco hummed his appreciation. "Did you get the Christmas present I sent you last year?"

"Ha! It hardly counts as a gift. That raid lasted all of five minutes."

"Oh, that is disappointing. My apologies."

"Wait one fucking minute." Weasley had gone all red in the face again. "You two know each other?'

"We all went to school together you great git," Potter exclaimed.

"You know what I mean!"

"Oh do stop shouting." Granger pleaded with him, rubbing her temples. It was amazing how the tension in the room had almost completely dissipated now that Potter was present. "Harry, you knew about Malfoy?"

"I was often his contact for the Order. Until I got cursed, that is."

"Why didn't I know this?"

"A bit above your pay grade, Granger." Draco watched her face tighten.

"You took a very liberal interpretation of my orders, Granger." Shacklebolt rumbled. "Don't let it happen again."

"I take full responsibility for this, sir" Granger declared. "The Manor was under attack. They were all in danger."

"So you took it upon yourself to put us in danger?" Weasley scoffed. "Did you even calculate the risk these people represent?"

"What?" Granger was incredulous. "Calculate risk? Do you hear yourself when you talk?"

"Where have you been?" Shacklebolt asked Potter wearily.

"Scouting about, mostly." The bespectacled man hobbled forward. "Found out that besides the handful of people stupid enough to cause a scene this morning, there's really nobody who's questioning Hermione's judgment on this."

The freckle faced weasel looked away guiltily.

"You unmitigated bastard." Granger growled. "You were trying to manipulate Kingsley into tossing them all out! When it was just you and few of your cronies stirring up trouble?"

"I don't care what everyone else thinks! This is a bad idea. Allowing these people to stay is a mistake that we will all pay for in the end."

"I didn't do this on a whim, Ronald. Why can't you just trust me?"

"Can you blame me, Hermione? You haven't exactly been stable recently!"

The quiet that followed his exclamation was heavy. Draco watched Granger wilt. Interesting.

"You should leave." Potter shuffled Weasley to he door. He clapped him on the back briefly and spoke under his breath. "I know that you're trying to do the right thing here, but you're only making things worse, mate."

Shackelbolt was deep in conversation with Granger when Weasley left the room. Potter limped over to Draco with a genial expression on his face.

"Sorry about all that," he said to the group. "Nice to see you Nott, Zabini." The men shook hands. "Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Parkinson. Pansy." Potter nodded politely to the women.

"So can we expect to walk the halls without getting lynched?" Pansy asked.

Potter winced. "I can't say that people are thrilled, but nobody is going to harm you. But it might be wise to stay together."

"Fantastic." Theo rolled his eyes.

Granger came over, her face tight with tension. She didn't make eye contact with any one person, but rather spoke to the wall behind them. "I'm going to see about some living arrangements for you. I'll be back by the time your Legilimancy exams are finished."

"I'll accompany you."

Granger looked at Draco like he'd just announced he was going to juggle. "You don't need to do that."

"I'm not needed here. Besides I have to make sure you don't stuff us in some abandoned classroom with rags for a bed."

She didn't even bristle at his mockery, merely closed her eyes for a moment and nodded.

Ron was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. The sight of him brought a sharp pain to her chest. How could he say such things to her? The Ron she knew and had loved for years would never be so callous. Straightening her spine, she let her hurt turn to anger. She thought about hexing him into the ground then kicking him in the ribs for good measure. He must have seen the dangerous look on her face, because he raised empty hands in surrender.

"I just want to talk, Hermione," Ron said. Her first instinct was to turn away, to tell him to go to hell. Then she reminded herself that Ron had been her best friend since childhood. They had been in love once. He had pulled her from the dungeon at the Lestrange Mansion and carried her home. The last couple years had been rough for them, and the last few months had been the worst. For a moment, she considered turning him away. There wasn't much for them to talk about, and she was too tired to argue.

Ron sighed impatiently and looked over her shoulder at Malfoy. "Can we talk? Alone?"

Malfoy stepped past her and walked a few feet down the corridor, looking away as if he wasn't interested. She couldn't care less if he heard every word. He had already seen her berated by her friends, and nearly spit on by her soldiers.

"I just want to talk," he repeated when she descended the last few steps to him.

She was completely unwilling to listen to any more angry recriminations about her character, and she told him so.

"That's not what I want to talk about," he assured her. She remembered a time when that face looked on her with love and devotion. Now he just looked bitter.

He had always wanted to be needed, to feel special. They were never closer than when they were being hunted, when Hermione was an emotional wreck. The first year after the Battle of Hogwarts, she had clung to him for strength. Somewhere on the battlefield, however, she had discovered herself; the tough fabric making up her spirit, the current of her courage moving her forward. She needed him less and less. Even after returning home from captivity, she had found her feet quickly. She couldn't help feeling that he had been disappointed that she hadn't needed him.

"So what do you want?"

He winced at the question and shuffled his feet. "I don't want it to be like this. I hate arguing."

"I hate the way you called me an untrustworthy traitor." The anger felt good. It kept the pain away. "I hate the way you accused me of being unstable and a threat to our people."

"I know what I said. But I didn't mean it like that." He looked ashamed. She was suddenly very tired.

"Is this an apology?"

He frowned. "I still think they shouldn't be here. I don't think we can trust them. But I'm sorry for being so awful. I know Kingsley ordered you to take Malfoy and that he blackmailed you into bringing his friends."

It would be easy to let it go at that, to smile and part ways feeling better. But she didn't feel better and she didn't want an easy out.

"It was my call Ron." She challenged him. "Malfoy may have gotten his way in the beginning, but Kingsley told me to make the ultimate decision. I could have Obliviated them and kicked them out of the safe house. But I decided to bring them back to Hogwarts and make them a part of our cause. So barring anything horrible found from the Legilimancy, if they stay, it will be by my actions."

He stared at her, his jaw ticking. If he had been hoping she would lie down and let him have his way, he was mistaken. She wasn't interested in absolving herself of responsibility to make him feel better.

"The needs of the Order come before my personal opinions, though those have changed significantly since the beginning of the war. We need information on the Legion. We need talented wands to fight for us. There may be a risk, but closing ourselves off from everyone hasn't worked so far. Our numbers are dwindling. We're losing hope. And those people you don't trust may have brought us the key to winning this war."

She saw him open his mouth to argue. Reaching a hand out to stop his words, she grasped his arm and squeezed.

"I accept your apology, Ron." She stretched up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll see you later in the week to go over the details for the next supply run."

As she walked away from him, she was surprised at how easy it was to come to the conclusion that someone who had once been so essential in her life no longer fit.

Ron wasn't sure what had happened between himself and Hermione, but he watched her walk away feeling like he'd lost something. There were things going on in that conversation that he couldn't quite comprehend. It made him feel confused and angry. It was how he always felt around her. She was always three steps ahead of him, always leaving him behind. He shook it off. He had apologized and now they would be okay.

She was stopped down the hall by a witch with a handful of parchment. While the two of them spoke, he noticed Mafloy leaning up against the wall a few feet away. The dirty little ferret had probably heard everything. Ron decided it was time the two of them got something straight.

"I don't know what your game is Death Eater." Ron used his height to his advantage. He knew he was big, and even though Malfoy had grown taller and filled out a bit, he was still the smaller man. In more ways than one. "Following Hermione around like a dog doesn't make you one of us. And if you hurt her, you'll be dealing with me."

Malfoy sighed dramatically and studied his fingernails. "Why do the men in her life seem to feel the need to threaten me? Don't you think she can take care of herself?"

"You're a dangerous fucking twat, and I want you to know that I'm watching you."

"I'm dangerous?" Malfoy gestured to himself innocently. "I'm not the one who threatened her. I'm not the one who turned my back on decades of friendship."

Ron wondered if he could plant him a facer and get away with it. "Don't talk about things you don't understand. We have our ups and downs, but I will always be a part of her life."

"That little tête-à-tête a moment ago says differently. Or didn't you realize that was goodbye?"

The truth in Malfoy's words burned through him. Is that what had happened?

"You may think you know her," Ron growled, stepping into the other man's space. "Or that because she took your side that you're friends, but I know better. When this is all over, she'll drop you like yesterday's rubbish. This little costume you're wearing, the one that makes you look like a decent fellow, is total shite. One day, you'll slip up and she'll see who you really are, and she'll want nothing to do with you."

"That is certainly a possibility." Malfoy's mocking grin turned very serious, and he took a step forward so they were nearly nose to nose. In a quiet voice he said, "By the way, if you ever point a wand at her again, I'll bury you."

With that, the man sauntered away to join Hermione, whistling under his breath.