Lies Laid Bare pt. 3

Hermione woke slowly, consciousness drifting back in uneven waves. The first thing she felt was pain—dull and throbbing, pulsing through her entire body. She shifted slightly, wincing as the movement sent sharp stabs of agony radiating through her arm and ribs.

"Easy, Mione'," a soft voice murmured, and Hermione blinked, her vision slowly clearing.

Ginny Weasley was sitting beside her bed, her expression tense and worried. Her fiery hair was tangled and unkempt, shadows etched under her eyes. She looked like she hadn't slept in days.

"Ginny," Hermione whispered, her voice raspy. Her throat felt raw, each word scraping painfully. "What—where's—?"

"Draco?" Ginny finished, arching a brow. Her voice was flat, her lips pressed into a thin line. "He's… getting checked out by Kingsley and the others. They need to make sure he's really here to help us before—"

Ginny broke off, shaking her head sharply. "But don't worry about him. You should be worrying about yourself. You nearlydied, Hermione."

Hermione swallowed hard, the weight of Ginny's words settling heavily in her chest. The memory of collapsing in Draco's arms flashed through her mind, along with his frantic, terrified expression.

"I—I'm sorry," she murmured, wincing as she shifted in the bed. Her entire body ached, but at least she could feel it. That was something, at least.

Ginny's gaze softened slightly, but her expression remained tense. "You should be," she said quietly. "We thought—we thought we were going to lose you. Harry's already barely holding on, and now you—you can't justdothat, Hermione. You can't just—"

Her voice broke, and she looked away, blinking rapidly. Hermione's heart twisted painfully, guilt flooding through her.

"Ginny," she whispered, reaching out with her good hand. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—"

Ginny shook her head, her shoulders trembling. "I know," she said softly. "But that's not—" She took a deep, shuddering breath. "That's not what I'm mad about."

Hermione's brow furrowed, confusion washing over her. "Then what—?"

Ginny's gaze snapped back to her, fierce and blazing. "How could you fall forMalfoy?" she demanded, her voice trembling with anger. "After everything—after—"

She broke off, her chest heaving, and Hermione stared at her, stunned. "What—what are you talking about?"

"You knowexactlywhat I'm talking about, Hermione," Ginny said sharply. "If it was soeasyfor you to—" She clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white. "If you could justfallforhim,forDraco Malfoyof all people, then how—how could youneverlove Ron?"

Hermione's heart stopped. The breath caught in her throat, and she stared at Ginny, the words hitting her like a physical blow.

"I—" she stammered, shaking her head helplessly. "Ginny, I—"

"No, don't," Ginny snapped, her eyes blazing. "Don't give me that. Ron—he would havediedfor you, Hermione. He—hediddie, and—" She broke off, her voice cracking. "And you—you never even—"

Tears filled Ginny's eyes, and she looked away, blinking furiously. Hermione felt her own eyes burn, guilt and grief twisting together in her chest.

"It's not that I didn't care about Ron," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I—I loved him. I did. But it—"

"But not enough," Ginny said softly, her voice thick with pain. "Not the way he loved you."

Hermione closed her eyes, the weight of Ginny's words crushing her. She knew it was true. She had known it for a long time. But hearing it—hearingit, and knowing how much it hurt Ginny—it was like a knife to the heart.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so, so sorry, Ginny."

For a moment, Ginny didn't respond. She just stood there, staring down at Hermione, her expression torn between anger and anguish. Then, slowly, she shook her head.

"I don't—" She swallowed hard, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I don't understand, Hermione. How—how could you fall forhim?"

Hermione's chest tightened painfully, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I don't know," she whispered, shaking her head. "I just—I don'tknow."

But even as she said the words, she knew they weren't entirely true. She did know, at least a little. She had felt something shift between her and Draco during their long, desperate conversations, during the nights spent pouring out their fears and dreams in letters. It had been so unexpected, so impossible—and yet, so very real.

But how could she explain that to Ginny? How could she make her understand that it wasn't about Ron, that it was never about choosing between Ron and Draco? It was about her heart finding something—someone—in the midst of so much darkness and pain. It was about survival. About clinging to whatever light she could find.

But none of that mattered to Ginny. None of that could erase the hurt and betrayal in her eyes.

Ginny looked away, her jaw clenched tightly. "I just—" She took a shuddering breath. "I don't know if I can ever forgive you for this."

Hermione's heart shattered. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. What could she say? What could possibly make any of this better?

"I'm sorry," she whispered again, her voice breaking.

Ginny didn't respond. She just turned and walked away, leaving Hermione alone in the cold, empty room, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air.

And for the first time, Hermione wondered if she would ever be able to fix this—if she could ever make things right again.

Draco couldn't remember the last time he felt so out of place. He'd experienced disdain and distrust from the Order before, but this was something entirely different. It was one thing to be viewed with suspicion — that, he could handle. It was quite another to be completely ignored, treated as if his presence were a foul stench they had no choice but to tolerate.

As he stood beside Hermione in the cramped sitting room at Muriel's house, he could feel the stares of everyone around them burning into his back. And yet, no one addressed him. Not Harry, who sat on a worn armchair with his arm heavily bandaged and eyes staring vacantly into the fire; not Ginny, who lingered beside him with her arms crossed and her lips pressed tightly together; not even Kingsley, who merely gave him a curt nod before continuing to direct the other Order members.

Ginny's gaze, however, was the worst. She didn't just look at him with suspicion or distrust. No, Ginny Weasley's eyes were filled with loathing, a hatred so palpable it made Draco want to recoil.

"Harry, can you pass me that healing salve?" Hermione's voice broke the tense silence, soft and hesitant. She reached out a hand, but Harry didn't move. He didn't even look up at her.

Draco's jaw tightened as he watched the exchange. When Harry finally turned his head, he glanced at Hermione briefly, his gaze skimming over her as if she were a stranger, before his eyes shifted away again.

"Sure," he muttered flatly, tossing the jar onto the small table between them.

Hermione flinched at the coldness in his tone, her fingers hesitating before she picked up the salve. She didn't say anything else, just turned back to Draco, her face pale and drawn. Draco's heart twisted painfully in his chest as he watched her, a surge of anger flaring up on her behalf. She didn't deserve this. She didn't—

"So, Hermione," Ginny's voice cut through his thoughts like a blade, sharp and biting. "You andMalfoy, huh?" She spat his surname as if it were a curse, her eyes narrowed into slits. "Guess it didn't take much for you to just… switch sides."

Hermione stiffened beside him, her face going even paler. "Ginny, please—"

"Don't," Ginny snapped, her voice trembling with fury. "Don't you dare say anything to me. After everything—everythingRon did for you—"

"Stop it." Draco's voice was low and dangerous, and he felt Hermione tense beside him, her gaze snapping to his face. "You have no idea what she's been through. What we've both been through."

Ginny's laugh was harsh, grating on his nerves. "Oh, don't I?" She leaned forward, her eyes blazing. "I know enough to see what's happening here. You're using her. Manipulating her. And Hermione's just too damn stubborn to see it."

"Ginny!" Hermione gasped, her face flushing with anger. "That's not—"

But Ginny wasn't listening. She took a step closer, her gaze fixed on Draco's face with a look of pure venom. "I'll say this once, Malfoy," she hissed. "I don't care what you say or do — I'llnevertrust you. And if you think you can waltz in here and steal her away after everything she's lost, then—"

"Enough!" Hermione cried, her voice shaking. She stepped between them, her eyes wide and desperate. "Ginny, please, he's not—Draco's here to help us, I swear. You—"

"He's aDeath Eater, Hermione!" Ginny shouted, her face twisted with fury. "He'salwaysbeen a Death Eater! Or did you forget that? Did you forget everything he's done?"

Hermione's eyes filled with tears, her hands trembling. "No, I—"

"Ginny, that'senough," Harry said quietly, his voice tired and strained. He glanced at Draco, his expression guarded, but there was no malice in his gaze. "Let's not do this now."

Ginny's mouth snapped shut, her shoulders heaving with barely contained rage. For a long moment, she just glared at Draco, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

"I'm watching you, Malfoy," she whispered harshly. "Don't think for a second that I'm not."

Then she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, leaving Draco standing there, his heart pounding painfully in his chest.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered beside him, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Draco, I—"

"Don't," he murmured, shaking his head. He couldn't bear to see her like this — so broken, so guilty. It made his blood boil. "It's not your fault."

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1 Month Later:

Luna appeared in the doorway, holding a letter in her delicate hands.

"Hermione," she said softly, her gaze flitting briefly to Draco before she looked back at her friend. "This came for you."

Hermione took the letter with trembling fingers, her eyes widening as she recognized the neat, looping script. She tore it open quickly, her gaze scanning the words.

"It's from Daphne," she whispered, her face draining of color. "She—she says—"

She looked up at Draco, her eyes wide and horrified. "Ted and Andromeda—"

Draco's heart stopped. "What?"

"They're—" Hermione's voice broke. "They're dead, Draco. Their bodies were—" She swallowed hard. "Daphne says they were mutilated beyond recognition. They can't even—there's nothing left to bury."

The room seemed to tilt violently, the air rushing out of Draco's lungs. Dead. Ted and Andromeda—dead.

"They—" He forced the words out, his voice strangled. "They're really—I never got to know them"

Hermione's eyes filled with tears. She reached out a hand, her fingers brushing against his arm. "I'm so sorry, Draco."

But Draco barely heard her. His heart pounded in his ears, his mind reeling. He had to—he had to tell—

"Nymphadora," he whispered hoarsely. "I—she—"

"I'll tell Tonks," Hermione corrected softly, but Draco shook his head sharply.

"No," he said, his voice low and determined. "I—I should. She deserves—she deserves to hear it from me."

Hermione hesitated, but then she nodded slowly, her gaze soft and understanding. "Okay," she whispered. "If you're sure."

Draco swallowed hard, his throat tight. "I'm sure."

Tonks was sitting alone in the corner of the dimly lit sitting room, her hair a muted, washed-out brown. She looked up as Draco approached, her eyes red-rimmed and wary.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked tiredly, her voice flat.

Draco hesitated, his chest tightening painfully. How could he tell her? How could he possibly—

"I'm—" He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I'm sorry, Nymphadora, er Tonks" he whispered. "I—I have some… some news. About your—about your parents."

Tonks's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of fear flashing across her face. "What? What about—?"

"They're—" Draco's voice broke, and he clenched his fists, forcing himself to continue. "They're dead."

The color drained from Tonks's face. She stared at him, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly.

"What?" she whispered, shaking her head. "No. No, that's—that's not—"

"I'm so sorry," Draco whispered, his throat burning. "They—they were killed, and—and their bodies were—"

He couldn't finish. The words caught in his throat, choking him.

Tonks let out a choked sob, her hands flying to her mouth. She shook her head violently, her eyes wide and disbelieving.

"No," she whispered. "No, no, no—"

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered again, his voice shaking. "I'm so, so sorry."

But Tonks wasn't listening. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. And Draco stood there, helpless and heartbroken, the weight of his own grief crushing him.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. The room was filled with the sound of Tonks's quiet weeping, each sob tearing through Draco like a knife.

"I should have stopped it," he whispered finally, his voice raw. "I should have—"

But Tonks shook her head, her gaze fierce and tear-filled as she looked up at him. "This wasn't your fault," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Don't you—don't youdareblame yourself, Draco."

Draco stared at her, his heart aching. But Tonks just shook her head again, her eyes softening.

"They—they wouldn't have wanted that," she whispered. "They wouldn't have wanted you to carry this."

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As Draco stepped out of the sitting room, he felt the weight of the world settle back onto his shoulders. The tension in the house was palpable; every member of the Order seemed lost in their own thoughts, grappling with the losses they'd sustained. He could still feel Ginny's icy gaze lingering on him, but he forced it out of his mind.

"Draco!" Hermione's voice called out to him as he walked toward the kitchen. She was standing there, her hands trembling at her sides, her expression filled with concern. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said brusquely, though he knew it was a lie. He didn't want her to see the cracks in his facade; he needed to be strong for her. "I just spoke with Tonks."

Hermione's eyes softened, understanding etched on her features. "I'm sorry about her parents."

Draco ran a hand through his hair, the weight of it all settling back on him. "It's a bloody nightmare," he muttered, feeling the anger rising within him again. "I can't believe it. They didn't fucking deserve this."

Hermione stepped closer, her gaze steady. "None of this is fair," she said softly. "But we have to find a way to keep going. For them."

He nodded, appreciating her strength even when he felt so lost. "I know. But it's hard."

"Let's go check on Harry," she suggested gently, and he found himself nodding in agreement, grateful for her presence.

As they entered the makeshift healing area, the atmosphere shifted. The somber quiet was punctuated by the occasional rustle of bandages or the soft murmurs of spells being cast. Draco's heart sank as he saw Harry lying on a cot, pale and motionless, his breathing shallow.

Hermione rushed to Harry's side, kneeling beside him and reaching for his hand. "Harry, please, hang in there," she murmured, her voice thick with worry.

Draco lingered behind her, his heart heavy. He wanted to reach out, to comfort Harry, but the weight of his own guilt made it difficult. He'd been so focused on his own problems that he hadn't fully comprehended how dire the situation had become for Harry.

As Hermione squeezed Harry's hand, he could see the tears welling in her eyes. "We're going to find a way to make this right," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You can't leave us, Harry. You just can't."

For a moment, the room was filled with a heavy silence, and Draco felt the urge to speak. "He's not going to leave us," he said quietly, finding strength in his own words. "He's a bloody Gryffindor, remember?"

Hermione turned to him, her gaze searching his face. "You really think so?"

"I know so," he replied, his voice firmer than he felt. "Harry's tougher than any of us. He's going to pull through."

Hermione nodded, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. "You're right. We just have to believe in him."

Just then, the door creaked open, and Ginny stepped into the room, her face still set in a frown. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice sharp.

"Just… checking on Harry," Hermione replied, glancing back at her.

Ginny's eyes narrowed as she looked between them, a frown deepening on her brow. "Right." She folded her arms across her chest, the tension in the air escalating again.

"Ginny, can you please not?" Draco said, his frustration boiling over. "Now is not the time."

"Don't tell me what to do, Malfoy," Ginny shot back, her voice icy.

"Enough," Hermione interjected, her tone firm. "We need to focus on Harry right now. Can you at least try to put your feelings aside for a moment?"

Ginny hesitated, but the anger in her eyes softened slightly. "Fine. But don't think this is over."

Draco rolled his eyes as Ginny moved to the other side of Harry's cot, but he could feel the tension still hanging in the air, like a thick fog.

As they stood together in silence, the weight of everything — the loss, the fear, the uncertainty of what lay ahead — hung heavily over them. But through it all, Draco felt a flicker of hope, ignited by the warmth of Hermione's hand clasping Harry's. It reminded him that even in the darkest times, they had each other to lean on.

"Whatever happens," he said quietly, glancing at Hermione, "we'll face it together."

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with gratitude. "Together," she echoed