Author's Note: Happy Fourth of July! (: Of course, it doesn't really mean much to people outside the States, but I've decided that Independence Day calls for another new chapter! So here it is.

Chapter 29

This is a fucking suicide mission, showing up here. I'm clearly out of my mind.

I raise my fist to knock again, and the door swings open.

"M—Malfoy," Potter says, surprised. His wand is pointed right at my face. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to tell you that Granger found out who's betraying the Order. Now either put that wand away and let me in, or attack me, and I'll get the hell out of here."

He frowns. "What's happened to Hermione?"

"That wasn't one of the choices, Potter."

He backs up to give me room to enter but doesn't lower his wand. Fair enough. After all, I haven't given him reason to trust me. I enter the room, and he closes the door.

"Bloody hell, what's Malfoy doing here?" I hear from the stairs. I glance over to see that the weasel is standing halfway up the steps, glaring at me.

"I don't have time for this," I say. "Granger discovered the identity of your traitor. If I'm not mistaken, he'll probably be coming here soon with the news that she and Lupin were ambushed while interrogating Rowle. By that time, I want to be long gone."

"Who is it?" Potter asks.

"Mundungus Fletcher."

"Dung?" Ron says. "No, he wouldn't."

"He doesn't know that I've turned to work for the Order, does he?" I say.

Potter shakes his head. "No, we didn't talk to anyone who wasn't in our meeting that day… and I'm pretty certain that he hadn't gotten there yet."

"Perfect. I don't want him running off to Voldemort telling stories about me."

"How can you be sure that it's Dung?" Weasley asks, reaching the bottom of the steps.

He's drawn his wand and has it pointed at me, but I only shake my head at him.

"You're just going to have to trust me," I say. "Granger and Lupin have been taken by the Death Eaters, and I'll do my best to get them out. No guarantees."

"How do we know that you didn't help the Death Eaters catch them?" Weasley demands, stepping closer so that he can jab his wand into my chest.

"Would I be here if I wanted the Death Eaters to win?" I counter.

"Malfoy, we can't simply accept your word as reality. This could all be an elaborate—" Potter begins.

I throw my hands up, frustrated. Fuck it. Apparently it doesn't matter to me anymore whether I live or die, so what's the point in keeping secrets? I reach under my shirt and pull out the serpent charm.

"What's that?" Weasley asks.

"This is how Granger and I communicate. Don't ask me how it works," I say, speaking quickly to save time. "Two days ago, she told me that she was going to be interrogating Thorfinn Rowle tonight. I heard from some other Death Eaters about an hour ago that they were setting up a trap for Granger when she went to interrogate Rowle. I tried to warn her, but it was too late."

"How… how did you know it was too late?" Potter asks.

"I heard from my Death Eater friend that he'd succeeded," I reply.

Then I turn my charm around to show them the word that had appeared only moments after I hurled my stone basin against the wall: Mundungus.

"That's the last thing I got from her."

"Are you sure she meant that he is the traitor?" Weasley asks.

"Yes," I reply impatiently. "Now I really ought to be going. If and when Mundungus shows his face, subdue him. Contact McGonagall, Shacklebolt, Nymphadora, whoever has authority around here, and explain."

They both look surprised at my request, but Potter nods.

"Good luck, Potter, Weasley," I say, nodding at each in turn.

I prepare to leave, but Potter quickly steps into my path, blocking the exit.

"What are you doing?" I growl at him, aware that Weasley's wand is still pointed at my back.

"Stay," he says. "We'll know whether or not you're lying if Mundungus gets here. If he doesn't, then you're lying, and I can't let you leave."

"You can't make me stay," I say.

"My wand is jabbed into your back, Malfoy," Weasley snarls. "Don't even think about it. You'll be dead before you can try anything."

I slowly turn around to face him, smirking. "Really? Care to give it a try, Weasel?"

"Ron, don't," Potter says.

"I could, you know," Weasley says between gritted teeth, his face transitioning into a deep shade of red.

"Then do it," I say, trying to goad him into action. If Weasley pounces, that should be enough of a diversion to get Potter out of my way.

"Ron, he's not worth it."

"You know Granger, that Mudblood friend of yours? I've kissed her," I say, wearing an extremely smug expression as Weasley's face gets impossibly redder.

"You've what?" he roars.

"Snogged her senseless," I add.

"Ron, no!" Potter shouts.

A shrill shrieking starts up, but above the noise, I hear Ron's loud cry.

"Confringo!"

I grin as Potter rushes over to restrain Weasley's wand arm, but the redhead just stares at me furiously, his wand a useless stick of wood between his fingers.

"Is that all you've got?" I taunt, backing toward the door.

But at that moment, as I'm about to put my hand on the doorknob, there's a knock.

Oh, fuck me. That's gonna be Mundungus. Fuck these two idiots! I spin out of the way of the door and cast a Disillusionment Charm on myself.

"Oi!" Weasley calls out, lunging toward the place where I'd disappeared.

I've already slipped past him to the hallway, halfway to the room where I'd been interrogated during my first visit here.

Potter grabs his friend's arm and shoves him toward an ugly portrait on the wall, and I recognize the occupant of the painting as my great aunt, Walburga Black. Interesting, that the ancient home of the House of Black, one of the largest and oldest racist pure-blood families in Britain, would come to house the Order of the Phoenix, which opposes the elitist views that members of the House of Black would have heartily supported.

The screams quiet down when Weasley tugs the curtains in front of Mrs. Black, and Potter pulls the door open. Sure enough, Mundungus is standing on the doorstep.

Potter asks him a few questions, and then he's permitted to enter.

"What's going on?" Potter asks him, closing the door.

One of the two Weasley twins appears on the steps before Mundungus can reply. He has both ears. But I can't remember for the life of me which one got his ear spliced off by my godfather.

"Hey, Dung! Got anything for me?" he asks.

Mundungus shakes his head. "Bad news. Hermione and Remus…"

"What happened?" Potter asks, and I'm surprised at how well he feigns ignorance.

"They were ambushed by a group of Death Eaters," Mundungus says, shaking his head. "I got away before they noticed me. I don't think they made it out."

The twin looks infuriated. "Why didn't you help them? How many Death Eaters were there?"

"I—I don't know. Looked like a whole swarm of them."

Weasley points his wand at Mundungus. "Do you swear you're telling the truth?"

I note that the short man's eyes are darting between Weasley's wand and the door, and I can tell that he's calculating the likelihood of getting out before being hit by a hex. Before he can do anything, I point my wand at him.

"Incarcerous!"

Thick ropes burst from the tip of my wand, and his arms are bound to his sides. The weasel whips around, pointing his wand in my direction, and I shift a little to the left.

Mundungus's eyes seem to be bulging out of his head. "Who's there?" he gasps.

"Don't you dare tell him," I say.

The Weasley twin has his wand drawn and is pointing it in the direction that my voice came from. "Harry, what's he doing here?"

Ah, so he knows it's me. I move to stand next to Potter and smirk at the sight of the two Weasleys, both pointing their wands at nothing.

"Don't worry, Fred. He came a few minutes before Dung and told us about Hermione and Lupin. And from the looks of it, he wasn't lying," Potter says.

"We haven't proved anything. Who says Dung is the spy?" the weasel says.

Fred Weasley looks angry. "I wouldn't put it past Dung to sell us out," he says.

Mundungus opens his mouth to protest, but Potter Silences him.

"Well, there you go," I say, startling Potter. Both Weasleys turn their heads, looking for me, but they only see Potter. "Twin number one agrees with me. Where's the other one of you, by the way?"

"Thanks to your comrade, he's still bedridden. Won't be able to walk for another week or so."

"Dolohov, I assume," I say.

Twin number one glares at the place where I'm standing, then says to Potter, "What should we do with Dung, then, if Lupin and Shacklebolt aren't here? McGonagall?"

Potter nods. "Yeah. Fred, could you go to the kitchen and Floo her?"

Fred Weasley moves down the rest of the steps and toward the kitchen.

"Ron, take Mundungus into the kitchen," Potter says.

"You got… him?" Weasley asks, his wand pointing at me—I haven't moved away from Potter.

I snort. "As if you'd be much help to him, you overgrown weasel."

"Ron, just go," Potter says.

He sounds tired. Weasley levitates Mundungus and takes him away to the kitchen. When the door closes behind him, I lift the Disillusionment Charm on myself.

Potter turns to me. "Can you find a way to free Hermione?"

In any normal situation, I would have played it off. The usual drill. Of course I can, piece of cake, don't you know I'm Draco Malfoy? But tonight, it's different. Granger's life is on the line.

"Honestly? I wasn't lying before. No guarantees," I reply.

"Then—"

"I'm going to try my best. All right, Potter?"

He studies my expression for a moment, and I begin to wonder what he's thinking. Finally, when he's made up his mind, he gives me a small nod. Maybe he's smarter than I've given him credit for.

"If you have any news, any information at all, come back here," he says. "I'll need something that will prove that you're really you. Answers to a few questions, or a password, or—"

"Otter."

"Pardon?"

"Otter," I repeat impatiently. "That's my password. Now I've really got to be going."

Potter nods, and the way he looks at me is slightly unsettling. As I pull the door open, his voice makes me pause.

"Malfoy, you're all right. When you're being cooperative, that is."

I smirk. "Don't get used to it, Potter. It won't last."

I exit the house and Disapparate as soon as I'm on the doorstep.

I appear at my cottage a moment later. I take a deep breath to calm myself—it won't do to fill my head with mindless worry.

What kind of approach should I take?

I briefly consider asking Aunt Bella, but I doubt she'll know much about this—she hardly ever handles matters concerning prisoners, preferring to be out on the field, fighting. Father, on the other hand, has been relegated to interrogations and torture. But I can't ask him about anything. He doesn't speak to me unless it's to reprimand or punish.

No, trying to get information out of Aunt Bella or Father won't do.

I wonder if Granger is important enough for the Dark Lord himself to interrogate—in my fit of anger, I had felt so certain that Voldemort would be torturing her, but when Theo's face showed up in the fireplace to tell me they'd succeeded, he'd told me that they'd dropped her off at a camp. I was sorely tempted to ask him which one, but I held it in; I couldn't look too interested in Granger's fate.

Although Voldemort doesn't usually interrogate prisoners in the regular camps, there's still the possibility that he would make an exception in order to find a traitor—he absolutely loathes spies.

The thought of her writhing in pain under Voldemort's wand is almost unbearable. I have to do something.

My dilemma is that I don't know what to do.