"The plan has changed," says Severus's disembodied head from my fireplace. "The Dark Lord has decided to move castles. Tomorrow."
I'm too stunned to parse through the implications and he doesn't make me.
"The Resistance has decided to strike tonight rather than risk the delay. They feel confident enough in the plan to move it up one night. They're scrambling to get their people in place now. It'll -"
"Can they do it?" I interrupt wildly. Granger's frightened eyes flicker between me and the fireplace, my shirt still fisted in her hand.
"It'll take a few hours to slowly remove and replace the individual guards around the castle with Polyjuiced Resistance operatives. That part hasn't changed. What's changed is what guards are on duty tonight vs tomorrow, and where in the castle."
Severus looks between the two of us. "It'll all be over soon, one way or another."
That's what I'm afraid of. I was supposed to have more time. We were supposed to have more time. Another day. It wasn't much, it was nothing at all, but it was ours. Mine. It'll be all I have left of her. I feel like he punched me in the chest and I can't breathe. I don't know what to say.
"When will they strike?" Granger asks quietly. "How late?"
Severus gives her his full attention. "The original plan was the dead of night. Now, it'll be as soon as they get their people in place, however long that takes. They're setting to begin as soon as possible, replacing one guard at a time as quietly as they can manage. When they've taken over the outside guard, they'll begin infiltration in the same way."
"Is Fleur there?"
This stops Severus and I both. "Who? Why?"
"Fleur. Bill Weasley and his wife Fleur. Are they fighting, or are they still in France?"
He pauses, still puzzled as to why this, in particular, matters. "I'm not there, I don't know for sure. I believe they've called everyone from abroad who would come. The only former Resistance fighters who have had to stay uninvolved are the families expected to be in certain places in the UK."
"And where is my father?" I ask, dreading the answer.
"I don't know, Draco, I am not there. He's not here in the park, if that helps." Severus's trademark caustic tone is back, the only sign that he, too, was rattled by this sudden change in plans.
"Who can keep us updated?" Granger asks. "You?"
He looks at her again, evenly. Solemnly. "If the battle devolves, Draco and I will both be called to fight. I don't know how this will go."
I take her hand. "Please let me get you out, now. Please."
"No!" Granger yanks her hand away, hostile again. "We don't know anything yet, nothing at all. Don't ask me to -"
There's a clattering on the floor of my room and we both glance down. Three more pads are laying there by the hearth of the fireplace. Severus's head is gone.
Granger springs into action at once. It's impressive. I'm still standing here, horrified and mute, blinking stupidly at the fireplace.
She grabs the pads and sprints into the lab, yanking mist bottles to her chest. "Give me the locations of three more properties. I know you have them."
This helps, oddly. "Granger, we can't use all Malfoy properties as possible safe houses. They'll think to check them."
"Not straight away, they won't. They'll check traceable travel first and the Floo won't show any activity there. No one will be expecting this to be in use."
She's right, I know. I rack my brain and come up with the more obscure locations - the French one is fine for my mother, but it's also a predictable one. People know we use that one fairly often. She won't be able to stay there long; it'll be a stopgap and nothing more. But there's a penthouse in Hong Kong, a vineyard in Chile, and a small private island off Malta that my father gave to my mother as a wedding present.
She completes the same complex arithmancy and runes on each, and bundles each into its own small drawstring bag, then looks around as if afraid she's forgotten something.
"Granger - go to your room and pack. Be ready."
She gives me a black look and I hold up my hands. "I'm not going to send you away yet. And I promise I won't trick you and have Suz just take you. I won't do that. But you should be ready."
Swallowing hard, she looks around again, more slowly. "I don't have anything left over there. Not really. Everything is in here."
Because we've been living together here, essentially. I can't remember the last time she was in her room either. Her clothes are here, her bathroom things. Her wand is on her. What else is there?
But she does as I ask without further complaint. I watch her replicate one of the drawstring bags and perform an undetectable extension charm on it. She starts stuffing it full, moving through our room silently, and when she turns to face my direction again her cheeks are wet.
The expression on Granger's face is so lost, almost bereft. I can't stand it. I have to go to her. Wrapping her in my arms, I feel our size discrepancy in a way I rarely do, anymore. She feels so small, so breakable. Not weak, though; not the way she's gripping her arms around my back, clutching my shirt in her fingers.
Her shoulders shake as she starts crying openly. She's saying something and I can barely make it out against my chest. "Draco, don't make me leave."
I can't promise that. She knows I can't. I tip her face up and kiss her instead, slowly. Gently. "It's going to be alright," I promise, even though I can't do that either.
Granger reaches up to wind her hands behind my neck, curling her fingernails into the hair at the base of my scalp, and deepens the kiss. My hands find her hips and move around to her arse, which I somehow never get to pay enough attention to. I grip her beneath me for what could be the last time, loath to let go.
She moves her hands down my chest to my trousers and snaps open the button, stepping backwards towards the bed at the same time.
"Don't stop it this time," she pleads, looking up at me through her lashes. "Please. I want to."
I know she does. Hasn't she all evening? Haven't we both? But this is different, and we both know it. Even so, I won't dodge her again. Tears are still streaking down her cheeks and this isn't how I wanted it. But it's the last chance we'll have and we clutch at each other with a sense of desperation, of lost time.
The backs of Granger's knees hit the bed and she sits, pulling me down and I scoot us both up to the pillows. She yanks her shirt over her head and my hand runs up her side, feeling her skin, her ribcage, her breast as I unclasp her bra. She throws that aside, too, and pulls off my own shirt. It's a flurry of clothing as we speed up, her hands sliding under the band of my boxer briefs, but then she stops after they're off.
I sit back at once, concerned, but Granger gives her head a small shake. Nothing's wrong, it says, and she puts a hand on my chest to push me backwards instead, climbing into my lap.
"You're still overthinking things. Can you just be here with me, please? Can we forget everything else, just for a few minutes?"
She dips her face to mine and kisses me instead of waiting for an answer.
This isn't how I would have done it for the first time. I'd have taken her slowly, gently, beneath me, comfortable and cautious on the bed. But she sits in my lap, knees on either side of my hips, and feels underneath her to find me ready. Lifting up slightly, she positions herself and comes down gradually, sinking herself onto me.
She stays still for a moment, feeling and adjusting to my size, her forehead pressed to mine. I run my hands up her back and whisper, "Alright?"
To me, it's indescribable. I hope it's not uncomfortable to her. Without foreplay, without the teasing and fondling, she could be wetter, and I move my hand between her legs to gently circle over her clit. But she's hot, her whole body like a furnace, and she's sheathed around me in the most perfect cloak. I swallow hard and keep circling my finger on her.
"Yeah." Granger cups my face in her hands and kisses me as she starts to move. "This is what it's like?"
"Yeah," I say in an unconscious mimic, nodding a little.
She's pressing her chest against mine and my arm is wrapped around her back and we couldn't be any closer, and I realise this is why she chose this position. She moves up and back in again, not going very far and I can feel her getting wetter. She nestles into my neck and places a soft kiss there, letting her lips linger.
Gently, I move my hips up as she comes down the next time and she makes a small noise, deep in her throat. Her fingers clutch at my hair and she makes the motion again. "I love you," I say into her ear and she slides slightly farther off before coming back down this time.
She feels like velvet, molten silk, around me and I bury my face into her neck to press my lips onto her pulse point. Placing one hand on her hip, I help her find a rhythm to what she's doing, canting her hips. She puts a little more weight on her knees to get further off my length, before coming back down with a little more intensity in it, and I gasp into her throat.
I might be able to make her come like this with my hand between us. I probably can. But I lift her with my arm and lay her gently down on her back without pulling out of her. I'm struck dumb by how perfect she looks. Her face is flushed and breathless, her pupils blown dark, and when I reach back down, she's practically dripping wet around my cock.
Watching her face closely to see how different the angle is for her, I slide into her again and have to bite down on my own lip.
"More," Granger exhales. "Please."
So I do. I pull all the way out, resting at her entrance for a half a second before thrusting steadily in, to the hilt this time. Her mouth opens in the most perfect O and I dip to kiss her neck.
No longer worried about the angle of things, I frame her face with my forearms to kiss her properly as I slide in and out. Granger's hands grip the backs of my shoulders, crushing me to her, my mouth to hers, and she bends one knee up to the side of my hip.
She's so tight around me, molten slick and she's starting to make those little noises that make my heart race. I gently put my hand under her knee and lift her leg up, angling deeper into her and she gives a soft little cry.
I'm not sure how long I can keep this up and I start trying to mentally inventory my ingredients cabinet when her nails scrape my skin and bring me back to the present.
Just like when my hands or mouth are on her, Granger's begun to move to meet me, creating her own friction. "More," she breathes again.
Slowly, I increase my pace, finishing each stroke buried inside her, hesitating for a fraction of a second before withdrawing to do it again. Granger's starting to writhe, one hand in her hair now, and I slide my fingers between us again.
I circle while I pull back and press as I thrust in and she starts actively crying out. The impact of my cock buried in her presses that much harder against my finger on her clit and we're both gasping.
"Fuck, Draco," she cries. "Please…"
I hike her leg up on me and push in, landing hard, and I won't last much longer. She's starting to clench around me and it feels like nothing I've ever had in my life.
She's fluttering and spasming in alternating waves and I almost stagger, barely keeping my balance with my fingers on her, in her, my cock - it's all running together, her heat, the delicious smell of her arousal, the soaked sheet beneath us, her walls clamping down stronger and tighter than I could have ever dreamed.
Her whole body shudders as I give a final thrust, burying myself in her, feeling her heartbeat under my mouth.
How long do we have? I don't know.
The witch on my chest looks asleep but isn't. No twitching fingertips. But she doesn't know either. No one does.
It's foolish to lay here naked, though. I don't know how long we have been; a while. Something could happen at any time. And still I can't bring myself to move her, to get up and get dressed, to remind us both of what's hanging over our heads. If we pretend it isn't there, maybe it isn't. For just a few more minutes.
I was supposed to have more time than this. How can it all be over, already? One more day was all I wanted; well, no. That's not at all true. But one more day was the agreed-upon bargain.
Granger and I had until Saturday night. Saturday. Not tonight, not now.
"I love you." Granger lifts her head as she says it, looking at me evenly with her chin on my chest. She hasn't said it since her confession earlier and I smile at it now.
"I love you, too."
She seems to be readying herself for something, and she doesn't make me wait long before coming out with it. "I know you want me to go before we know how it turns out. I understand why, but run with me. Please. You don't have to stay and fight."
"I can't, Granger. I can't leave my mother here alone if he shows up."
"Then let's go explain to her, now, and send her away to the chateau. She has to get out, right? The attack is in motion, so let's do it now, together. Then you come with me. We'll find out if the Resistance wins or loses, together, but not here. From somewhere safe."
I don't answer.
"Please," she whispers. "Don't ask me to go without you."
I try to find a critical flaw in the plan, any reason it would be worse for her if I go.
If Potter wins, we'll hear. I'll be tracked down and charged as a Death Eater - or run indefinitely. To be determined later, I suppose. If Potter loses, at least we're already out. My mother, too. I wouldn't go to the same place because my father will be looking to reunite with her, and my father will be dangerous to Granger. He can't know where she is; where we are.
The Dark Lord will be looking for Granger. We might be on the run indefinitely anyway. But is any of that worse than her going it alone? Even if it's just for now?
I decide it isn't. Fuck it. I never really let myself believe that Granger would still want me around at the end of this. If she does, am I really going to abandon her?
Pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head, I give her a nod. "Alright. Let's go."
The jumbled mix of joy and relief on her face makes any remaining doubts of mine vanish on the spot. She rolls off of me, grabbing for clothes, and throws me what's mine. I yank them on and start sifting through drawers, flinging things into the bag Granger holds open for me.
On our way out, she makes one more pass through the lab, scooping up a few more bottles of mist and vials of lotion. At my look, Granger defends, "What? We worked hard on them. And I have a weightless charm on the bag."
Shrugging, I pull her along by the hand. "Where to? Where should we hole up, waiting for news?"
I catch her grin from the corner of my eye. "The island off Malta sounded nice."
Reaching the intersection of the solarium or the main wing of the Manor, I glance around for my mother. The Manor is dark, wall sconces flickering. Between the dim lighting and the absolute silence, it's eerie. Is anyone else even here? The Manor has never felt so abandoned to me.
My mother is not in her conservatory, either. I've just decided to call for an elf to locate her when we run smack into Jasper, hearing his crack of Apparition in the corridor just in front of us.
"Master Draco!" the little elf gasps, winded. "Mistress says you must come at once."
Granger and I exchange a worried look, more so when Jasper grabs my wrist and Apparates us into the main sitting room off the entrance hall foyer rather than leading us there.
But it's not just my mother who is there. Lucius is, too.
"Good, you brought the girl," he calls distractedly, trying to calm my mother - who is in what can only be called hysterics.
I'm also distracted by this and in the half a second it takes me to realise that my father wanted Granger here and that should be concerning, Granger has her wand out.
"Keep that out, girl, but don't use it on me," my father shoots at her, then, with his arms locked around my mother to restrain her, turns to me. "Their cover is blown. The Dark Lord is preparing to fight. You have to take her, now, and go."
What? Granger looks up at me, panicked, and pulls out one of the pads.
My mother screams again, "No, Lucius, please don't send them, please," and my father's arms strain, his hands clasped on each forearm wrapped around her chest.
"It has to be done, Cissa. There's no better way. They have to see him fighting by her side. He'll fight beside her and protect her, and they have to see both."
He turns to me again, seeing that I'm too astonished to track what's happening. "I knew if Jasper told you I'd called, you wouldn't bring her," he nods towards Granger, arms still occupied with Narcissa. "Go, now. You'll have to Floo to the Laird & Dog in Edinburgh before you can Apparate to Dunrobin. They'll be expecting you; both of you."
Granger, still quicker on the uptake than I am, has already started moving, stuffing the pad that would presumably have taken us to Malta back in her bag.
My mother screams my name, sobbing and inconsolable, and Granger pulls out one of the small drawstring bags with the bottle of mist, another pad, and one of the lotion vials in it. She sets it on the table by my father. "There are instructions in here on how to send Narcissa to your chateau in France. I know you can Floo there, but this is untraceable."
The look on my father's face is indescribable. "Thank you."
Granger's expression is equally odd. "I didn't do it for you. But - how long have you been in contact with the Resistance?"
"Long enough. It's Draco's only chance at a future once the regime falls. Go, now."
"No," Granger says firmly, and we both stare at her. "Not until you tell us what we're walking into."
Lucius shakes his head in frustration, still physically wrestling with my mother's furious opposition. "I don't know how the cover was blown. I know they have many operatives already Polyjuiced and in place, but I don't know how far into the castle their infiltration was able to get. Operatives will meet you in the Laird & Dog to explain more. It's their designated thru-stop."
Granger seems to consider this sufficient to be going on with. She grabs my hand and yanks me towards the fireplace. A sudden thought strikes me and I yell over my shoulder, "Tell Severus to get Blaise out!"
I have no idea if my father knows anything about that part of the plan, if my words make any sense at all to him, but his eyes say he'll do it nonetheless.
As Granger reaches for the jar of Floo powder, my father calls out over my mother's hysterical screams of "Draco!"
"Do more than protect her, Draco."
It's a good thing Granger is here and comfortable taking charge of things. My mind is reeling, quite as disoriented as the rest of me spinning through the Floo.
('Your father saw an opportunity, as he is wont to do')
('I believe he's positioning himself for maximum credit and favour')
My father, always with his finger on the pulse of the winning side, ensuring the best possible position for himself. Purchasing Granger to get her out of the park. Housing her in a very considerate way, all things considered, and generally keeping himself scarce - not interfering with her access to a potions lab, the library or the grounds, or her near-constant proximity to my wand.
Even his parting words to me sound different with different inflection to them.
'Do more than protect her.' Yes, easily, I'll do anything for her.
'Do more than protect her.' Contribute to the cause.
We've tumbled out of the Floo into the Laird & Dog and my whirling thoughts spin to my mother.
('Should I be concerned?'
'No concern necessary'
'Do you know something I ought to?'
'Be patient')
But my mother didn't know my father was going to send us to the battle. She can't have; she was on the verge of collapse at the idea moments ago. This was a new
(opportunity)
wrinkle in the plan, something my father sees as a visible way to help the Resistance fight. What he'd done before now helped himself as much as it helped me. But this, this is how I contribute. Because he knows as well as I do, if the Dark regime falls, he and I are going to be tried as Death Eaters.
('Cissa, they have to see him fighting by her side')
Merlin's bloody bollocks, I'm tired of being in the dark on everything. Severus and my father, moving chess pieces on a board at different times and for different reasons, but always seeming to involve me.
A wave of black dreadlocks I distantly register as belonging to Angelina Johnson fly towards Granger.
('They'll be expecting you; both of you')
('Draco, you need to focus, darling')
Using my Occlumency in a way I haven't had to in months, I box all of this up and wall it off. Granger has her wand in one hand and my hand in the other, gripping it tightly as if she expects Angelina - or someone else here; looking around, there must be a dozen people in the Laird & Dog - to rip me away and hit me with an incarcerous hex.
But my father was right. While I don't see trust on any of these faces, I do see a wary acceptance of my presence. I'm not a surprise here. But wands are out, raised. Angelina is the only one close to us, but her wand is out, too and pointing at Granger with caution.
"Hermione, where do your parents live?"
I wince. Painful topic. Granger's parents are no longer there. But when she coolly answers, "Hampstead, before the war," I look down and realise she's also fully Occluded. Her eyes are dull, a guarded brown. Her jaw is set.
Angelina lowers her wand and motions for us to follow her. She strides quickly towards a back room, Granger nearly jogging to keep up.
"The assault inside the castle is ongoing. We are sending no other operatives inside that were not already prepped to be there. The plan is too intricate. Objectives were given to specific people; they'll have to problem-solve on the fly inside the castle."
"What do you need?" Granger asks, practically yelling to be heard over the commotion in the pub, the chaos of a strategy in flux.
"We need help defending the perimeter. As Voldemort calls in reinforcements, we can't let them get inside the castle. He has his own anti-Apparition wards set but he'll have dropped them to allow his own people in. We've raised ours instead. You'll Apparate onto the southern part of the grounds. It's easier to defend, bordering the water. Coordinate with who's there to cover entrances and exits. Look out for gold armbands; those are our people."
"Do we need them?" I ask before I can stop myself, and she looks at me, visibly disgruntled.
"It's for any operatives whose covers are blown. They're still under Polyjuice. They look like Death Eaters. Try not to hit our side."
I can think of a few problems with this plan, but offhand, I can't come up with a better way of identifying people at a distance at night. Before I can voice any unsolicited opinions, Angelina looks at Granger with open fondness, her eyes a little bright.
"I'm really glad to see you, Hermione. We heard you'd be coming, but we didn't know -" she breaks off, and points her wand at the armband in her hand. It turns from a canary yellow to a more subtle gold.
"They'll know you're here, now. Ron's been going spare, wouldn't believe anything Harry told him," she explains. "You were the last captive. Now they'll all know you're out."
Granger doesn't even seem to hear Angelina. Her eyes are completely focused; almost cold. "Where's your Apparition point?"
Angelina blinks and recovers. "Down the alley to your right. Remember; land on the southern grounds. It's where we're sending our own reinforcements. Our people there will direct you to where they need additional support."
Given the chaos of the blown cover, this is remarkably organised. Having random people Apparating in all over the place is inefficient. Funnel them through the Laird & Dog, to the south lawn, then to assigned points of weakness. They've been working hard, obviously planning for the potential of mayhem; hopefully the team within the castle is equally prepared for contingencies.
"Are you all joining us?" I ask and wish I hadn't. I might be tolerated here but my input is not appreciated. Even so, Angelina grants me an answer after Granger glares at her.
"Hermione was the last we expected could turn up, but we may have unanticipated aid. We'll leave two people here at the Floo. The rest of us will be joining you on the grounds before long."
Granger is dragging me towards the door when my left arm burns and I hiss, grabbing for it. "He's calling us in," I yell over my shoulder. "His reinforcements will be arriving."
The urge to Disillusion both of us is strong but that would defeat my father's whole purpose of sending me. And if only Granger is Disillusioned, there will be no context for my presence here at all. I'll be assumed to be fighting with the Death Eaters.
A similar thought must occur to Granger because as soon as we're out of sight of the pub door, she conjures a gold armband on my left arm above the elbow.
"You said 'calling us,'" she repeats, businesslike. "Does it work like that? He presses the Mark and everyone is called?"
"Not necessarily," I scramble over some bins and help Granger behind them. "He can call specific people. He might just be calling me - or my father, Severus, and me, if he suspects us of something. Or, he could be calling everyone and that's the more important scenario for Johnson to prepare for."
"What happens when you ignore it?"
"We'll find out. I've never ignored it before. I don't know anyone who has."
The residual burning isn't going away. Usually it fades when I appear at his side, the call answered. But it's manageable. I Occlude that, too and grab Granger's hand with my left. Whether it's the Occlumency or her small hand in mine, it helps and together we Apparate to Scotland.
The minute we land, I cast the strongest shield charm I can around the both of us. We're both right-handed, wands out. No more hand-holding. It's pitch black and I think I might see a few people, shadows in the dark. But not as many as I'd expected, and no outright battlefield chaos.
It's also cold, bitterly cold, and a damp haze is in the air. I cast warming charms on us both and we turn a slow circle, taking in our surroundings. It's much, much larger than I envisioned. I can feel the harsh wind coming off the firth to our back, even though we aren't that close to it. It must be my imagination, feeling the spray of the water off the rocks and I shiver unconsciously.
"Hermione!"
We both whirl, wands raised.
"The armband changed," a man pants. "We knew you'd be Apparating in."
He gets closer and Granger recognises him, even if I don't. "Lee? Do you need to check it's me?"
Lee - Jordan, now, I do recognise him - shakes his head. "If you're here, Angelina already checked."
"Why is it so quiet out here?" Granger asks suspiciously. "What's going on?"
"We're trying to neutralise the opposition as they Apparate in. They can't Apparate into the castle - I'm sure Angelina explained. As they arrive on the grounds, we try to take them out before they even know who is near them. Keeping the grounds clear like this confuses them; they're expecting a battle, too."
"Is there any word from inside the castle?"
Lee shakes his head. "Nothing, but we don't expect there to be. When we know something, it'll either be obviously bad or obviously good. No news is good news, for now. We just defend their position and keep reinforcements from reaching them."
"The Dark Lord called for those moments ago," I say again, rubbing my arm. "I don't know anything else, but I know he's alive and wants reinforcements to arrive."
Granger shoots me a furtive look but I hold my position. There's a slim chance he was just calling me, or those of us betraying him, but the likelihood is that he's wanting aid. Legitimate aid. He put out a full call, I'm willing to bet.
Meanwhile, Lee looks alarmed. Conjuring a Patronus, some sort of bird of prey - an osprey, maybe? - he whispers to it and it flies off, zipping along through the dark, visible long past a regular osprey would be in the night.
"Why aren't the others coming over?"
Lee glances around. "Everyone is to hold their positions. I was on the lookout for you. We have a perimeter around the castle and they aren't to break it. Everyone knows their place."
Breaking into this, I ask, "Where do you need us?"
"The eastern side of the gardens has a lot of hidden angles, tall hedges. They could use extra eyes."
I don't like this. They're managing the incoming reinforcements so far, but there could be a flood of them about to arrive. No one knows what's happening inside Dunrobin. It could be good or bad, but we're on two separate islands here.
"Are you spread out evenly? The Resistance is all Apparating to the south lawn, but -"
Lee cuts me off, annoyed. "We're as evenly spread as we can be. If you want to help, head to the east."
Granger, also annoyed, looks like she wants to respond but I yank her along with me. The east it is. Everyone else is following a battleplan, the least we can do is follow suit. No sense throwing a wrench in things now, at the eleventh hour. Obviously they've done an abundance of planning, so who are we to question it?
But… as we make our way east, through this extensive property, grounds and gardens all over, something's becoming clear to me.
This attack strategy may have been clear-cut, and people are following it - to whatever degree I can tell from our limited time on site. But… the neutralised bodies we're passing are far past neutralised.
First, I see a torso in the darkness. The head is still attached and, to be fair, it's very dark out here. I can't tell who it is. But I can tell it's just a torso and head, and one appendage. An arm. The other three are gone and it's sitting in a pool of blood, seeping into the hedges to its right.
Another is caught by the slightest glimpse of the moonlight, trapped in a tree. Impaled there, actually, body and head hanging. A thick branch protrudes from the chest cavity, dripping blood to the ground in a slow trickle.
We pass another two in a pile, stacked like the rubbish outside the pub we just left, and I can only see one head. I wonder if these were some of the original guards that were replaced by the Resistance, or if this has happened since the infiltration.
Granger dodges something on the ground nimbly without pausing, and there's the second head. I haven't recognised any bodies we've passed so far and I'm curious who the Dark Lord was calling to his army on location. Surely he had a strategy of who was guarding inside the castle, outside, second-tier aid and tertiary calls.
Speaking of which, my arm burns again, hot. It brings the burning I've been trying to ignore back to the surface and I wonder, again, whether it's me he's calling or everyone.
I sense eyes on us from somewhere in the dark, and I refresh our protego maxima. The stealth here is making me uneasy. The quiet.
We still know almost nothing, the two of us. We don't know how many operatives are hidden on these grounds or where they are.
I fight back another urge to Disillusion us both. I feel exposed, far too visible as we skitter east along the garden paths. Who are we supposed to be coordinating with?
A sharp crack of Apparition comes up ahead and to our right. We see nothing, but hear a gushy sort of slice in the air and a thud. A body levitates its way across our path, leaving a wet red trail and tucks behind a tall hedge, where it lands with another thump.
We never see the Resistance operative.
I don't like this at all. During the main fighting of the war, I was used to open battlefields, slinging curses and duelling visible opponents, the chaos and madness of it. These hidden guerilla tactics have me on edge, trigger-happy.
This is not the way the Resistance and the Order fought before. Now, that did not work out the way they wanted and this specific mission is extremely precise. But the ruthlessness of this is a striking departure.
The Resistance is out for blood.