Breaking point -2 Weeks Later:

The days passed in a blur of tension and exhaustion. The house was silent—too silent—as they waited. Waited for word, waited for answers, waited for the grief to subside enough to function. But it never did. Hermione paced the halls of Muriel's house like a caged animal, her nerves frayed and raw, her mind consumed with dark, twisting thoughts.

She couldn't sleep. Could barely eat. All she could think about was the last desperate moments in the safehouse, the screams, the blood—the feeling of utter helplessness as the professors were slaughtered like animals.

And Draco's face haunted her through it all. His letters, his words of comfort, his insistence that he was on their side.

Buthow had the Death Eaters known?

It circled in her head, looping endlessly until she thought she'd go mad from it. Someone had tipped them off. Someone had betrayed them. And there was only one person in Theo's network of contacts that she trusted the least.

"Ready?" Theo's voice was low, breaking through her spiral of thoughts. He stood in the doorway of her room, his face drawn with worry. He hadn't been sleeping much either—she could see the dark circles under his eyes, the tension in his frame.

"More than ready," she bit out, grabbing her bag and pushing past him. The two of them left the house in silence, tension crackling between them. It had taken two weeks to prepare—two weeks to arrange meetings with the others, two days to steady herself for what was coming.

Two weeks of barely concealed rage simmering under her skin.

Now, they were going to get answers.

They Apparated to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of a tiny, secluded village. Theo had insisted on keeping the location hidden until the last minute—just in case. Hermione hadn't argued. She didn't have the energy.

The warehouse was cold and dark, its walls lined with rusting machinery and piles of old crates. The air smelled of mildew and dust, and a biting chill cut through the room, making Hermione shiver as they stepped inside.

Draco was waiting for them, standing stiffly in the center of the room. He looked paler than usual, his features drawn tight, his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. He glanced up as they approached, his gaze flickering between Theo and Hermione, lingering on her for a moment too long.

"Hermione," he murmured, his voice careful, as if testing the waters. "Theo."

"Don't," she snapped, her voice sharp and brittle. "Don't pretend you're on friendly terms with me, Malfoy. Not after what happened."

He blinked, taken aback. "I'm—Hermione, I didn't—"

"Shut up." She was shaking now, anger and grief twisting inside her like a vice. "You knew, didn't you? Youknewwhat they were planning, and you said nothing. You let them walk in there andbutchereveryone!"

"What?" Draco's eyes widened, genuine shock flickering across his face. "No—I didn't, I swear—"

"Liar," she spat, stepping forward, her hands clenched into fists. "How else could they have known, Malfoy? How else could they have found out?"

"I—I don't know!" He sounded desperate now, his eyes wide and pleading as he looked at Theo. "I didn't know about any of it. I swear, I—"

"You're going to take Veritaserum," Hermione interrupted coldly, her voice like ice. "Right now. You're going to take it, and you're going to answer every single one of our questions."

"Hermione—" Theo began, but she rounded on him, her eyes blazing.

"No." Her voice was a whipcrack, cutting through the air. "He's going to take it, or I'll find out the truth some other way."

Theo flinched, glancing at Draco, who was staring at Hermione as if she'd just struck him. For a long, tense moment, no one moved.

Then Draco took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "Fine," he murmured, his voice tight. "If that's what it takes to convince you… fine."

He held out his hand, and Theo hesitated before pulling a small vial from his pocket. The clear, shimmering liquid inside seemed to pulse in the dim light, glowing faintly as Theo passed it to Draco.

"Three drops," Theo murmured quietly. "No more."

Draco nodded, his eyes never leaving Hermione's as he uncorked the vial. He tilted his head back, letting the drops fall onto his tongue, then swallowed hard. For a moment, nothing happened—then his expression went blank, his eyes glazing over as the potion took hold.

Hermione's heart pounded in her chest, her breaths coming shallow and quick. She'd never actually seen Veritaserum used before, not like this. She'd read about it, knew how dangerous it could be. But right now, she didn't care.

Right now, she needed answers.

"Malfoy," she said softly, stepping closer. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes," he murmured, his voice flat and toneless.

"Good." She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay steady. "Did you know about the attack on the safehouse? Did you know the Death Eaters were going to target us?"

"No," he said immediately. "I didn't know."

Hermione's stomach twisted. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Did you give them any information that could have led them there? Did you tellanyoneabout the professors, or the safehouse, or anything?"

"No," he repeated, his face still blank. "I didn't know about the professors. I didn't know about the safehouse."

"Then who told them?" Her voice trembled, and she hated how desperate she sounded. "Who gave them that information, Draco?"

"I don't know." His voice was flat, empty. "I don't know who told them."

She felt something inside her crack, a tiny, fragile piece of hope shattering into dust. "But—someone had to have—someone knew—"

"I don't know," Draco whispered, his eyes unfocused, staring straight ahead. "I don't know who it was."

Hermione stepped back, her hands trembling. She looked at Theo, who was watching her with a mix of worry and sadness in his eyes. Slowly, he stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Enough," he murmured softly. "He's telling the truth, Hermione. He didn't know."

She shook her head, backing away. "No… no, there has to be something, some mistake, some—"

"Hermione," Theo said gently, his grip firm. "Let it go. He didn't betray us."

She stared at him, her chest heaving, her vision blurring with tears she refused to shed. And then, slowly, reluctantly, she nodded.

"Fine," she whispered, turning away. "Fine."

But as they left Draco standing there, dazed and empty-eyed, a hollow ache settled in her chest.

Because if Draco hadn't betrayed them… then who had?

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The next few days were a blur of tense meetings and whispered conversations. Theo and Hermione moved quickly, setting up back-to-back interrogations with the remaining informants. It was exhausting, each encounter draining Hermione more and more, but she couldn't stop. Not until they had answers. Not until they were sure who had betrayed them.

They Apparated to a small, discreet manor nestled deep in the countryside for their first meeting. The Greengrass estate was beautiful, elegant, and remote—perfect for keeping secrets. As they walked up the winding path, the morning mist clung to the grass, swirling around their ankles. Hermione shivered, her nerves frayed from sleepless nights and endless speculation.

Theo's hand hovered at the small of her back, a silent gesture of support, and she glanced up at him. His face was set, his expression hard, but she saw the tension in his shoulders, the slight tremble in his fingers.

This wasn't easy for him, either.

"Ready?" he murmured as they reached the front steps.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she replied tightly. They shared a brief, tense look, then Theo raised his hand and knocked sharply on the door.

The Greengrass sisters, Daphne and Astoria, answered together, their faces calm and composed as they greeted them. They led Theo and Hermione into a small sitting room, elegantly furnished and warmly lit. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room.

"Thank you for meeting us," Theo said stiffly as they settled into their seats. Daphne sat across from them, her posture regal, while Astoria perched on the arm of her chair, watching them with curious eyes.

"Of course, Theo," Daphne murmured smoothly, her gaze flickering between him and Hermione. "We're always happy to help. Though, I must admit, we're a bit surprised by your request."

Hermione leaned forward, fixing them both with a piercing stare. "We need to know if you've been passing information to the Death Eaters. Anything, no matter how small."

Daphne blinked, her eyes widening in genuine surprise. "What? No—Hermione, I swear, we haven't. We've stayed out of everything. We never joined up, never took the Mark. We've only ever been on the fringes of the social circles."

Astoria nodded quickly. "We've heard things, of course—people talk at parties, at events—but we've never shared anything. Never. We're not like that."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, searching their faces for any hint of deception. But there was none. Just fear, and confusion, and a flicker of hurt.

She glanced at Theo, who gave a slight nod.

"They're telling the truth," he said quietly.

Hermione exhaled slowly, feeling a tiny knot of tension unwind in her chest. "Okay. Thank you."

The sisters exchanged relieved glances, and Theo stood, offering them a tight smile. "We appreciate your cooperation. Stay safe."

They left quickly, Apparating to the next location: a dimly lit alleyway in Knockturn Alley, where Pansy Parkinson waited, her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.

"What do you want, Nott?" she snapped as soon as they arrived. "I don't have time for your games."

"It's not a game," Theo said quietly, his gaze steady. "We need to know if you've been feeding information to the Death Eaters."

Pansy recoiled, her eyes flashing. "Are youinsane? Why the hell would I do that?"

Hermione stepped forward, her jaw clenched. "Because you were involved with them, Pansy. Because you passed messages for them. Because you were a part of it, whether you want to admit it or not."

"I wasn't aDeath Eater," Pansy snarled, her face contorted with anger. "I was never one ofthem. I was just—just a pawn. A messenger. They never trusted me with anything real. And I sure as hell didn't betray anyone to them."

"Then you won't mind taking Veritaserum," Hermione said coldly, pulling out a vial.

Pansy's eyes widened, her gaze darting between Hermione and Theo. For a moment, Hermione thought she'd refuse. But then, slowly, Pansy reached out, snatched the vial, and downed the potion in one gulp.

"Ask your questions," she growled, her voice tight and furious.

They did. For the next several minutes, they asked everything they could think of—names, dates, locations, suspicions. But Pansy answered each question with a snarled "I don't know," or a vehement denial.

She was telling the truth.

Hermione's shoulders slumped in relief, and Theo sighed softly beside her. "Thank you, Pansy," he murmured quietly. "You're free to go."

"Like hell I'm going to stick around," Pansy snapped, her lips curling in a sneer. "Good luck, Nott. And you—" She jabbed a finger at Hermione. "Stay the hell out of my business."

With a sharp twist, she Disapparated, leaving them alone in the darkened alley.

Theo turned to Hermione, his face pale and drawn. "That leaves just one more."

Hermione nodded slowly, her stomach twisting. "Blaise."

They Apparated to an empty field, a vast, open space with nothing but grass and sky stretching out around them. Blaise was waiting, his posture casual, his expression unreadable as they approached.

"Theo," he greeted smoothly, inclining his head. "Granger. I take it this isn't a social call."

"Cut the crap, Zabini," Hermione bit out, her heart pounding in her chest. "We know it was you."

Blaise raised an eyebrow, a slow smirk spreading across his lips. "Do you, now?"

"Blaise," Theo murmured, stepping forward, his eyes pleading. "Please. Just—tell us the truth. If you didn't do it, then say so. But if you did…"

Blaise's smirk widened, his gaze locked on Theo's. "And what if I did?" he murmured softly. "What then?"

Theo froze, his face going pale. "You—"

"Did you sell us out?" Hermione demanded, her voice shaking. "Did you give them the location of the safehouse?"

Blaise shrugged, his eyes never leaving Theo's. "Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't. What does

"Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't. What does it matter now?" Blaise's voice was low, almost teasing, and it sent a shiver down Hermione's spine.

Theo's expression twisted, a raw, visceral pain flashing in his eyes. "Blaise,please," he whispered, stepping closer. "Don't do this. Don't—don't make me choose."

Blaise's smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second, his gaze softening as it met Theo's. "Choose?" he repeated softly. "Theo, darling, you already made your choice a long time ago."

Theo flinched as if struck, and then something in his face hardened. He reached for his wand, his hands trembling slightly. "Tell me the truth," he demanded, his voice low and fierce. "Did you sell us out? Did you give them the safehouse?"

For a long, breathless moment, Blaise just looked at him, his eyes dark and unreadable. Then, slowly, deliberately, he smiled—a cold, cruel smile that sent a wave of dread crashing over Hermione.

"Yes," he said softly. "I did."

Hermione barely had time to register the words before Theo snapped.

"Confringo!"

The blast of magic erupted between them, a shockwave of heat and force that sent Blaise stumbling back. He recovered quickly, his wand flashing up in a blur of motion.