"He can't contact you, and that's his mission," Hermione said quietly, feeling the rage steadily building in her chest. Her fingers were digging painfully into the wood of the desk before her. "That's the mission you gave him?" she repeated, still in disbelief.
There was a sudden throbbing pain near her ribs, where Dolohov had cursed her. She ignored it. She knew it wasn't real.
Shacklebolt merely nodded. "I understand your hesitancy, Miss Granger," he said. "But the Ministry is entirely under the control of the VA now. I assure you that this mission is not as dangerous as it sounds."
"The VA?" Hermione asked, looking towards Ron.
Ron immediately averted his eyes. "His army," he replied quietly.
Voldemort's Army. The VA. That made sense. Hermione nodded, gritting her teeth. Well, it certainly seemed a bit safer, considering Draco was part of—the VA, as far as they knew, at least. "What's the prophecy about?" Hermione asked.
"We don't know," Ron answered. "Harry saw it when he was—when he was dead. We don't know what it's about, Hermione. But we know it's important, and the Order has no way to get to it. That's where Malfoy comes in."
"Why do we need it, though? I've already told you what the last Horcrux is," Hermione reasoned.
"You also haven't told us how to destroy it," Shacklebolt replied. "Perhaps the prophecy tells us how to do that."
"Draco and I will find a way—" Hermione began.
"Mr. Malfoy will steal the prophecy and deliver it to the Order, as he was instructed," Shacklebolt replied firmly.
"How is he supposed to deliver it when he can't contact the Order?" Hermione asked.
"I have a feeling he can contact you whenever he likes, Miss Granger," Shacklebolt replied with a curl of his lip.
"That isn't the point!" Hermione shouted, slamming her fist against the desk. "The point is he couldn't contact you. What? Was he just supposed to hide the damnable thing in his flat until you deigned to call him? Seriously?"
Shacklebolt stayed quiet and refused to meet her eyes. She turned to Ron, whose eyes were now fixed on the chess board.
Hermione took the coin Shacklebolt had given her from her pocket and slammed it down on the table. "Reverse whatever spell you have on this. Make it so he can contact me," Hermione demanded.
"Miss Granger—"
"If you want that prophecy intact, you will do this, Shacklebolt," Hermione interrupted, pushing the coin towards him.
Shacklebolt crossed his arms across his chest and stared at her. "You said you had your own Galleon."
Hermione crossed her own arms, fixing Shacklebolt with her own stare. "This is for official Order business," she replied. "If I activate my coin he might panic and do something stupid."
Ron was staring at her now, his eyes narrowed and focused, as if she were perhaps another chess board.
Reluctantly, Shacklebolt withdrew his wand and ran it over the coin, muttering as he did so. When he was done, he pushed the coin back towards Hermione.
Immediately she took it, shoving it into her pocket.
"Tomorrow," Hermione said. "10 AM. I expect both of you to be on time."
Shacklebolt stormed out without a word.
Ron remained seated. He was still staring at her. After a moment, he spoke: "I didn't believe it yesterday, when Harry told me. I didn't believe it. But it's true—you're with him? Malfoy?" he asked.
Hermione nodded. "Yes," she replied. "I'm—we're together."
He was still staring at her, but she couldn't read him. Hermione had always been able to read him. But it had been two years; two years without him, and maybe she just couldn't read him anymore. She stared back at him, waiting for his inevitable response.
After a moment, he was back to staring at the chess board. Hermione wondered what he was thinking. "Good for you," he finally said. When he looked back at her, his blue eyes were hard.
His congratulations didn't seem genuine. It didn't surprise her. "Thank you," she replied. She wasn't being genuine either.
They were still staring at each other.
Ron sucked in his bottom lip, gritted his teeth, then exhaled. "Do you love him?" he asked, his voice sounding strained.
"Yes," Hermione answered instantly.
Ron visibly swallowed. His fingers tapped against the desk. Hermione painfully gripped the other side of the desk.
"I knew you weren't dead, you know," Ron said after a moment. "It wasn't just Harry."
"Did you ever look for me?" Hermione asked.
Ron nodded. "I told them to look in Australia," he replied. "I knew you'd be with your parents."
That told her all she needed to know. Ron didn't understand her—not really, not the way Draco did. They never would have worked. She had always known this, deep down. But now she really knew. This was closure on her relationship—if she could even call it that—with Ron. "I never would have gone to Australia," Hermione said quietly. "I obliviated them and sent them to a different continent. Why would I ever go to them?"
"I—I don't—" Ron stammered.
Hermione wasn't interested in hearing more. She turned on her heel and left.
As soon as she was in her room, Hermione pulled the Order's Galleon from her pocket. "Need to meet," she wrote using her wand. "You can reply now," she added after a moment.
After a few moments, the coin began to burn hot. "Tonight," the message read. "8. Clearing."
He needed a week's notice, her arse.
Harry was still fast asleep in her bed, his brow furrowed as if he were deep in thought.
Hermione wondered if he still dreamed about Voldemort. The connection had been broken, but surely, He was still in Harry's dreams. She wondered if their dreams were at all similar.
Draco had once accused her of thinking loudly, and that appeared to be true as Harry immediately opened his eyes, suddenly wide awake. "Good morning," he said, grinning.
Hermione couldn't help but grin back. "Morning," she replied.
"You look irritated," he continued.
"I am," she said stiffly. "Are they really this incompetent?"
Harry shrugged. "Probably," he agreed.
While she understood it, his indifference irritated her further. "Get up," she ordered.
"What—?"
"I said get up!" Hermione repeated.
Harry scrambled, immediately pulling himself up out of the bed. He stood before Hermione, his hair sticking straight up. Hermione attempted to smooth it down to his head, but it predictably sprang back up.
"I know you're tired," Hermione said, making a second attempt at smoothing his hair—and promptly failing. "And He isn't going to be your fight anymore. But I need you to fight for something."
"For what?" Harry asked, looking lost once more.
"Ginny," Hermione said firmly. "Fight for Ginny."
Harry swallowed and looked away. "How do I do that?" he asked.
"You love her?" Hermione asked.
Harry nodded, not meeting her eyes.
"Tell her—that's a start."
"But what if she doesn't—" Harry began.
"She does," Hermione interrupted. "Tell her."
"She does?" Harry asked.
"She does," Hermione replied.
"How do you know? Did she tell you?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry had always been shit when it came to girls. "Just tell her," Hermione repeated. "Now, before I kick you out of my room, can I borrow your invisibility cloak?"
Harry narrowed his eyes. "Why?" he asked.
Hermione took a deep breath. "Draco's last mission is to steal the prophecy—the one you saw. His father—his mission was to steal the first prophecy, and it ultimately got him killed. I just—" Hermione paused and swallowed, calming herself. "I would just feel better if he had it."
Harry was silent for a moment before nodding. "It's yours," he promised.
Hermione apparated into the clearing promptly at 7:58, invisibility cloak in hand, to find Draco already waiting.
"You're going to be a giant pain in my arse, aren't you?" he asked, his brow raised.
"Probably," Hermione replied.
Despite his complaint, Draco took several steps forward and cupped her face in his palms. He kissed her, and she kissed him back.
"Why didn't you tell me what your mission was?" she asked him.
Draco sighed. "Because I knew you'd worry," he said.
"Of course I'm worried! I'm always worried about you!" Hermione cried, feeling frustrated tears begin to well in her eyes.
"Hermione, look at me," Draco said gently, tilting her face slightly so that she was looking up at him. "This is possibly the safest mission the Order has ever given me. I can easily enter the Ministry. No one knows about the prophecy but the Order."
"How do you know that?" Hermione asked.
"IfHe knew about it, I'd know," Draco said confidently, comfortingly stroking her cheeks. "We would all know."
Hermione nodded. That made sense, she supposed. "I still don't want you doing it," she replied obstinately.
"I know," Draco said quietly. "I know. But I have to. This is the last mission I will ever go on. I promise you."
"After this, you're done?" she asked.
"After this, I'm done," he agreed.
She pushed Harry's invisibility cloak into his hands.
"What is this?" he asked, staring down at the folded cloak.
"This is Harry's invisibility cloak," she said. "You have the means to get into the Ministry, but not the means to stay undetected. Get into the Ministry. Pretend that you're there for a reason—then disappear. Somewhere where you're alone. Put on the cloak, and then—wait. For someone to enter. Steal it. Then wait for someone to leave."
Draco stared down at the cloak apprehensively. "Invisibility cloaks aren't entirely reliable," he said quietly.
"Harry's is," Hermione promised. "If you're not sure, then let me steal it."
"What?" he asked. "Are you mental? I would never put you in danger like that."
"I've broken into the Ministry before," Hermione argued, making to take the cloak back from Draco.
Draco pulled it away from her. "Just because you did it once does not mean you can do it again!"
Hermione rolled her eyes and reached for the cloak again.
Draco pulled back further. "No," he said firmly. "You are not breaking into the Ministry. I am not putting you in danger."
"Draco—"
"No," he said again, more seriously. "This is my mission, and I will complete it."
"But—"
"Hermione, stop! You're the thief, and I will take your instructions into consideration. That is the end of this conversation," Draco said firmly.
Hermione remained silent, staring up at him with gritted teeth.
After a moment Draco softened, reaching for her hand and intertwining their fingers. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, squeezing her fingers. "I don't mean to be harsh, but you're so godsdamned stubborn." Draco shook his head.
"I know," Hermione relented.
"I love you," he continued softly. "And you're just so reckless—you're just willing to throw yourself into something dangerous—"
"For you—!"
"Stop it," he interrupted. "I don't need or want you endangering yourself for me. What I want is for you to be safe with the Order. I want—no, I need you to be safe. I need to not be worrying about you so that I can do my job."
"Okay," Hermione said quietly.
"Okay?" Draco asked, seemingly surprised.
Hermione nodded. "Yes," she replied. "I'll be safe. I'll stay safe."
He pulled her in close, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair. "That is all I need you to do for me, Hermione. That is the only thing."
"I know," she said, leaning against him and burying her own face in his shoulder. "I'll stay safe. I promise. I love you."
Draco's arms tightened around her, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her hair. "Then just trust me a little bit longer, okay?"
"I trust you," Hermione replied. "I trust you. I'm just—I'm scared. I'm afraid I'm going to lose you." Of course she trusted him. But he needed more than just her trust. Despite his assurances that his mission was safe, he was throwing himself into danger once again. He needed her trust, but he also needed someone who believed in him. She believed in him. "I believe in you."
"Thank you," he said solemnly. "Do you have anything else for me?"
Hermione shook her head as she buried her face in his chest. "No," she replied, her voice muffled against his shirt.
He kissed the top of her head. "You can't call me every day, Hermione," he said gently. He pressed another kiss to her forehead.
"I know." She looked up at him. "When this is done—when you've stolen this prophecy—you're coming to the Order, right?"
"If they'll have me," he said quietly.
"They'll have you," Hermione replied fiercely. "Harry's in—he's in bad shape. I'm taking his place."
"What's wrong with Potter?" Draco asked, his brow furrowed.
Hermione sighed. "He died, he's in love with a girl, existential dread—you know, the usual," she quipped.
Draco's jaw tightened. "A girl?" he asked.
Suddenly, Hermione understood Draco's reservations when she had told him that Harry was alive. He had told her to be careful, which had confused her. But she understood now—Draco was jealous. "You're jealous?" she asked.
Draco's jaw tightened further. He remained quiet.
"Oh, my gods," Hermione said, laughing. "You're jealous." She kissed him. "You're an idiot. He's in love with Ginny—not me."
Draco's face relaxed minutely. "The Weasley girl?" he asked.
"Yes," Hermione replied. "He's been in love with her for a long time. What? You thought it was me?" He wouldn't meet her eyes and that told her everything she needed to know. Draco had thought Harry was in love with her, and he was jealous. She rested her palm on his cheek. "Hey," she said quietly. "I love you."
Finally, he was looking at her again. He nodded briefly.
"Draco," she said firmly.
"Sorry," Draco said after a moment. "I was almost certain you had shagged him at some point."
"The only person I've shagged is you," Hermione replied.
At this, he grinned. "Right," he said. "I remember it vividly."
"Shut up," Hermione said, pushing him away.
He caught her about the waist, pulling her back into him. "Forgive my teasing," he said seriously. "I was jealous for a moment."
Hermione pushed his hair off his forehead—he needed a haircut, she thought. "You have no reason to be," she replied.
Draco nodded. "I know," he replied. "I trust you. And for the record, I believe in you, too."
She kissed him, wanting to savor him. "When will you do it?" she asked. "When will you steal it?"
"Theo works for the Ministry. I have a meeting with him in three days. If all goes well, I'll steal it then," he said. "Using your plan, of course."
"And then you're done?" Hermione repeated.
He nodded. "After that, I'm done. I will need a few days afterwards to get everything in order. But after this, I'm done."
Hermione nodded. "And you'll tell me?" she asked. "You'll tell me?"
"I'll tell you what I can on the Galleon, Hermione," he said reassuringly. "I'm going to be okay. I promise you."
"I know," she said, wrapping her arms around him.
"You should go," he said.
"Not yet," Hermione replied, tightening her hold on him.
"Okay," Draco agreed, kissing the top of her head.
Three days. In three days, he'd be putting himself in another deadly situation.
Every day was a deadly situation for Draco.
Every. Single. Day. For him, this was just another day.
"I love you," she said quietly. "You aren't allowed to die."
"Hermione, I'm not going to die," he replied as he ran his fingers through her curls.
"Good," she said, burying her face in his shoulder. "I would be rather cross with you."
He laughed. "Did you really break into the Ministry?" he asked after a moment.
Against him, Hermione nodded. "Gringott's, too."
"You terrify me," he said quietly, holding her tighter. "You fucking terrify me."
You terrify me, Hermione wanted to reply. You have me terrified every single day. She forced the thought from her mind—she had just told him that she believed him, and of course she did. But it did nothing for her terror, and it would do nothing to help him. "How long do we have?" she asked instead.
"Not long," he replied.
Hermione lifted her head and found him staring down at her. Her arms moved from around his waist, traveling up his shoulders until she was cupping his face between her palms. She kissed him, slowly, hungrily, deliberately. All at once, she felt the ache that was still between her thighs flare as she began to grow aroused.
She'd touched him once. But what if once was all she ever got? Hermione could feel him—hard, against her belly.
He kissed her back, but just as her fingers moved to unbutton his shirt, he pulled away. He was breathless and flushed. "We don't have time for that, Hermione."
Her fingers lingered at his buttons, knowing that he was right. "Okay," she said quietly.
Draco pressed his forehead against hers. "The next time we're together, Hermione," he began, "It will be the way it should be. On a real bed, with real sheets and real pillows. We'll have a ceiling, and a door. We'll be warm and safe—and we won't have to rush. We'll be able to take our time." He paused. "I want us to be able to take our time."
Draco. In a real bed, in a real room. With real time. It sounded—perfect. "You promise?" Hermione asked quietly.
"I promise you," he said fiercely.
Hermione nodded. "I believe you," she replied. "I believe in you."
He kissed her, just briefly, before pulling away entirely. "You have to go now, okay?"
She felt tears well in her eyes. "Okay," she agreed. "When will I see you next?"
He closed his eyes and swallowed. "Unless you have serious Order business, the next time you'll see me is when I meet my handler with the prophecy."
Hermione nodded and wiped at her tears.
"Go," he repeated.
"Wait—"
"Hermione—"
"Shut up and come here," Hermione said firmly. He sighed but took several steps towards her. She cupped his face in her palms again, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. "Be careful," she said quietly. "And don't forget that I love you."
"I will never fucking forget that," Draco said before kissing her.
The house was rowdy when she returned. Night had fallen, and it seemed as if there was a party in full swing. The house was loud with music and chatter, and Hermione paused in front of the door, wondering if she should just head upstairs or—
Before Hermione even had time to make a decision, a glass of strong-smelling liquor was shoved into her hand by someone with shocking red hair. The face was a blur, but she knew it was a Weasley.
So, at least three Weasleys were alive, then, she noted. Hermione tentatively took a few more steps into the parlor, where everyone seemed to have gathered.
There were so many people.
She took a long swallow of—something horrible.
After several moments, the alcohol warmed her belly and she suddenly felt more relaxed. She took a few steps further into the house.
She was surprised by what she saw.
So many redheads. The Weasleys were somewhat intact then. Everyone she had thought was dead—they were right there before her
It was surreal.
Everyone had been dead for two years, and here they were. In her head, they were all dead. But here they were, alive. Laughing, dancing, drinking. Harry, Ron, Ginny—they had been the worst losses. But then there was George, Seamus, and Dean. Padma, Katie, and Lavender. They had all been dead. But—they were here. Hermione's mind was spinning. She wasn't sure if it was the shock of seeing everyone or the alcohol. She took another sip of her drink, nearly choking as she did so.
Overwhelmed, Hermione searched the room for a friendly face, eventually finding Harry sitting alone in the furthest corner, a beer in hand. Hermione immediately went to him, seating herself on the arm of his chair before gently tapping her glass against the lip of his beer. Harry nearly jumped out of his seat. "Oh," he exclaimed, his eyes instantly darting to Hermione.
Hermione followed his line of his sight, finding Ginny dancing with Seamus, a glass that matched Hermione's in her hand. She was laughing. She looked happy.
"You didn't tell her?" Hermione asked loudly, uncertain if Harry could hear her over the blare of the music.
"No, I didn't tell her," Harry replied, taking a swig of his beer.
"Why not?" she asked.
Harry motioned towards Ginny, who was still dancing with Seamus. "Look at her, Hermione. She's happy."
Hermione took another swig from her glass, then laughed. "If she's drinking this shit, she's probably drunk."
"Probably," Harry agreed, draining his beer before taking the glass from Hermione's hand and taking a swig. "Gods, I always forget how horrible that is."
Hermione laughed, already feeling quite intoxicated. "What is it?" she asked.
Harry shrugged. "Some swill George invented. It's awful, but it gets the job done."
Hermione slid further down into the chair with Harry, stealing her glass back from him. The drink burned as she swallowed, but Hermione agreed with Harry: it certainly got the job done. Her anxiety from being around so many people had begun to blur and fade, along with her vision. The cacophony of thoughts in her head began to quiet, and she found herself focused on the beat of the music that everyone else was dancing to.
It was nice—just to relax, for once.
She leaned back against the back of the chair next to Harry and closed her eyes, content to just sit next to Harry and listen to the music. Her relaxation, however, did not last long, as after only a few moment, the music was turned down and the room grew disconcertingly quiet. Hermione's eyes flew open to find that the entire party had stopped, and they were all staring at her. People began to murmur amongst themselves.
"I told you! She's here!"
"No, it's not possible"
"It's Hermione. I told you I'd overheard—!"
"Where's she been?"
"Who found her?"
Hermione felt her nerves flare once more. She did not enjoy being talked about when she was right there. She didn't know if it was her own stubborn Gryffindor bravery or the alcohol she had just consumed, but Hermione suddenly found herself clearing her throat and standing. "Hi, everyone," she said, raising her glass in a mock cheer.
The group parted and George Weasley appeared, his glass also held up in the air. "A welcoming cheers for Hermione, then?" he suggested, looking around the group. "Hope you're enjoying the beverages, Hermione."
Hermione inadvertently felt herself smile. "Hello, George. Good to see you're still kicking," she replied. "And the drinks are certainly—something."
Suddenly Harry was beside her, his own beer raised in the air. "A cheers for Hermione," he agreed.
Immediately, everyone in the room raised their glasses towards Harry, and all eyes were on him.
"A cheers for Hermione," Harry continued. "Who has been alive and safe, living in the Forest of Dean for the past two years, completely unaware of our existence. I'm sure many of you have questions, but all I can provide you with is that she was found by one of our Order spies. And I, for one, would like to say that we are lucky that she's here, because she's the answer to finally killing Him for the last time. Cheers," he said, clinking the lip of his beer to Hermione's before taking a long swig.
Hermione followed suit, her eyes briefly locking with Ginny's, who was also mid-swallow. When Ginny lowered her glass, she was the first to speak: "Is that true, Hermione?" she asked. "You know how to kill Him?"
Everyone's eyes were on her. Hermione shook her head. "Well, yes and no," she replied after a moment. The entire Order was staring at her expectantly. Their party had been forgotten, and they were now an army eagerly awaiting their orders. Suddenly, they were an army, and she was their commander. Wanting to be able to see everyone, she found a nearby chair and immediately stood on top of it. "Listen up, everyone," Hermione said, placing her hands on her hips. "I am in close contact with someone in the VA—a Death Eater, actually. Before He can be killed, the snake must be dealt with—"
"Well, that's easy!" Dean interrupted.
Hermione shook her head. "I know it sounds easy, Dean, but she's warded and she's impervious to most magic. There are several ways to kill her," she began. "Basilisk venom works, as well as Fiendfyre. If anyone is confident that they can control their Fiendfyre curse, please tell me, otherwise that option is off the table. That also goes for Basilik venom. An Avada would work if we could get through her wards—but I don't imagine any of us here are capable of that." Hermione sighed. "That's it. That's all I know. The snake is the first priority—we kill her, and we have a shot at killing Him.
"Secondly, I am retiring Harry. Any questions you have for him, kindly bring them to me instead. I know I haven't been here for the past two years, but what I've seen in the past few days is appalling. The Order is flailing, and I won't let it anymore. I'm here now and it's time that we remember the true purpose of the Order of the Phoenix: to kill Him."
"Hermione's right," said Harry, taking several steps forward. "We've forgotten the true purpose of the Order, and in doing so, we've been at an impasse for too long. But she's here, and she has the ear of a high-ranking official in the VA. My time as the leader of this army is over and I am officially ceding my position to Hermione Granger. She's in charge now."
George took another step forward and raised his glass once more. "Bloody hell, I'll drink to that."
a/n: Next update 6/30. Until then, let me know your thoughts. Hope you're all enjoying so far (: