Part II: Vrai
Vrai (French) – True
Hermione handed the prophecy to Harry, who immediately rolled it between his hands, studying it critically. "Did you look at it?" he asked, looking up at Draco.
Draco shook his head. "No," he said simply. "That was not my mission."
Harry narrowed his eyes briefly, as if not quite believing it. Then his eyes shot to where Draco was still holding Hermione's hand, then back to Draco. Their eyes met briefly before Harry nodded shortly. The prophecy stilled in his hands.
"I would like a meeting with whoever runs the Order," Draco said after a minute.
Harry shrugged. "You're looking at three of the four," he replied. "We're only missing Kingsley."
Draco's gaze immediately shot to Hermione's, his eyes narrowing. "You didn't," he said disbelievingly.
Hermione ignored him, turning to look at Harry and Ron. "Find Kingsley," she suggested. "Tell him we have the prophecy."
Harry raised an eyebrow at her but nodded. "Fine," he said. "Come on, Ron. Let's go find Kingsley."
Ron also nodded. His face was red, and he already appeared on the verge of apparating out of the room.
As soon as Harry and Ron disappeared, she turned back to Draco, who was still staring at her. "You didn't," he repeated. "You did not put yourself in charge."
Hermione stared back at him unabashedly, jutting her out chin defensively. "You know I absolutely did," she replied.
"Why do you feel the need to constantly put yourself in danger, Hermione?" he asked quietly.
"I'm not the one currently laying in a hospital bed!"
"I'm fine!" he argued.
"You don't look fine," Hermione replied. "You're missing the majority of the bone in your right leg, if you haven't noticed!"
Draco opened his mouth to speak before his eyes darted towards his leg. He winced and promptly closed his mouth. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment.
"You should be," Hermione replied sternly.
"I said I was."
"Good."
"Are they fighting?" came Ron's voice from outside the curtain.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You can come in, Ronald," she said. There was the rustle of the curtain before Harry reentered, followed by Ron. Shacklebolt's absence was notable. "Where's Shacklebolt?" she asked.
"Bad news," Harry replied. "He's gone—"
"Gone?" Hermione interrupted.
"He's been called away for an emergency," Harry said. "There's been an issue—with one of the spies. He took Parvati with him. That means it's medical."
Draco's hold on her hand, which had loosened minutely, tightened again. Hermione wondered if he was thinking about Theo.
"Do you know who it is?" Hermione asked, forcing herself to look away from Draco.
Harry shook his head. "I only know that he was called away for an emergency and that he took Parvati." He met Hermione's eyes. His jaw tightened minutely before looking towards Draco. "I've delivered the prophecy—it's locked up for now. But we'll have to wait on that meeting, Malfoy."
Draco didn't reply, nor did his hold on Hermione's hand loosen. Instead, Hermione spoke: "Just as well, Draco needs to rest, anyways."
Harry nodded again. "I'll let you know when Shacklebolt returns," he replied. "Until then—well, I guess welcome to the Order, Malfoy," Harry repeated awkwardly.
As soon as Harry and Ron vanished from the infirmary, Hermione was on her knees before Draco, her hand still gripping his tightly. "Do you think it's Theo?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I don't know, Hermione," he replied quietly. "It shouldn't—It shouldn't be. He was prepared—He was the one who requested a meeting with me."
Hermione went to push his hair out of his eyes before realizing it was still matted with dried blood. She conjured a cloth and wetted it with the cup of water sitting at his bedside. "Tell me what happened," she said, beginning to clean the dried blood from his forehead and hair.
"I just—I did what you told me," he began. "I met with Theo. He wanted to discuss donations—that's what my father did. Made donations to the Ministry. I didn't think anything of it. I went to the loo afterwards and put on the invisibility cloak, that thing is barmy, by the way—"
Hermione grinned as she continued to clean his hair, dried blood flaking off and falling onto his pillow. "It's not quite like any other invisibility cloak, is it?"
Draco shook head. "No," he agreed. "What did Potter do to it?"
"That is a story for another day," Hermione replied, the corner of her mouth twitching.
Draco sighed and began to speak several times before he appeared to give up. After a moment, he grinned. "Can I show you instead?" he asked.
"How?" Hermione asked. "I don't have a pensieve."
Draco merely shrugged. "Don't need one," he replied.
"What—?" Hermione asked.
He grinned again. "It's something Snape was working on, a new type of mind magic. He taught me what he knew—before he died."
Hermione stared at him. When she spoke, her voice was tight: "Draco Malfoy, do you mean to tell me that you possess the skills to perform a completely undiscovered type of magic, and you've never told me about it?"
Draco flushed and looked away from her. "I never told you about it because—well, it's far from perfect. You hate it when I use Occlumency, and I'd never use Legilimency on you—it's like that," he said quietly.
Hermione couldn't lie to herself—she was intensely curious about the new type of magic that Snape had developed. Even if it was far from perfect, Draco wouldn't have suggested it if it had even the slightest potential of hurting her—she knew that. "What do you need me to do?" she asked.
Wincing, Draco moved over in the bed, making just enough room for Hermione to sit next to him. Gently, he took her face into his hands, pulling her closer until her nose was nearly touching his. He kissed her briefly, before staring deeply into her eyes. "Just relax," he said quietly. "If you've ever felt Legilimency before, it will feel like that. Don't fight it. I will not hurt you."
Hermione nodded before staring back at him.
Suddenly, her mind swam before her, and her vision became cloudy as if she had been unexpectedly thrown into a pool. She could still see Draco in front of her, but he was growing dimmer by the second.
And then, just as suddenly, she was inside of the Ministry, as if she were Draco. It was as if she were viewing a memory directly from a pensieve. He had just entered the loo and was pulling Harry's invisibility cloak from his robes. He sighed heavily before pulling it over his head. He promptly disappeared before leaving the loo and promptly headed towards the Hall of Prophecy.
Draco's journey was uneventful, much to Hermione's relief, but when he finally arrived at the Hall of Prophecy, Hermione's stomach briefly sank. The door was open. It was a trap—it had to be. Draco paused for a moment, and Hermione could feel his uneasiness and knew he was warring with himself internally. Quicky, Draco made a decision and slipped through the open door and into the Hall.
The Hall of Prophecy was not the same as Hermione remembered—much of it had been destroyed in the battle that had given Hermione her scar, but there were still numerous shelves that went high up in the ceiling, filled with glowing prophecies, their mysteries swirling just beneath the surface. The ceiling seemed to disappear into the stratosphere. Hermione could not feel it, but she instinctively knew the room was cold.
Draco seemed to know exactly where to go. He walked down one row of shelves for several minutes before taking a sharp left turn and stopping before another shelf. He paused only a moment before he began to climb. After climbing several shelves, he stopped again. He reached out and easily snatched a glowing orb, quickly tucking it somewhere beneath the invisibility cloak.
Prophecy stolen, he carefully descended the row of shelves. When Draco was back on the ground, he turned and before him stood Theodore Nott, absently studying a glowing prophecy in front of him. His eyes traveled up the shelves before he nodded shortly. "You got it," he said. "Good."
Hermione could practically hear Draco's heart hammering in his chest. His mission had gone perfectly. It had been easy, even. But he had not expected Theo. His surprise showed in his movements, as he audibly stumbled and slammed into a shelf. Several prophecies fell to the ground and shattered.
"You fucking idiot," Theo hissed between his teeth.
Somewhere in the distance, an alarm began to blare. It grew louder and closer with every second that passed. Theo looked down at his wrist, studying his watch. He nodded. "You have approximately 45 seconds before the wards in the Hall go back up. Go—now. And stay gone," Theo advised. "You're done."
Draco didn't need to be told twice—he apparated out of the hall immediately, and the crack Hermione heard was far too loud. She knew it was the precise moment Draco had nearly splinched himself. She could still picture his bone sticking out of his leg.
She felt as Draco receded from her mind. Regaining her sight was very much like regaining consciousness. The darkness in the corners of her mind began to fade, until all she could see was a light silver.
Draco's eyes. She was once again staring directly into Draco's eyes. Hermione released her breath.
Against her face, Draco's thumbs began to rub soothing circles against jaw. "Are you okay?" he asked.
Hermione nodded immediately. "Theo's a spy," she replied disbelievingly.
"Now you see why I wanted to show you," Draco said.
The Order had two other spies. If Ron was correct, they were both members of the Sacred 28. Theo was a spy—it was glaringly obvious in Draco's memory. He had left the door open for Draco, had deactivated the wards for at least some amount of time, allowing Draco to escape quickly. Hermione's stomach flipped briefly as she realized that it was possible that Draco would not have been able to complete his mission without Theo's help.
Something always rises from the ashes; Hermione suddenly remembered Theo's words. "Phoenixes," Hermione said quietly.
"What?" Draco asked, tilting his head.
"Phoenixes," repeated. "They rise from their own ashes. He tried to tell you."
Draco's eyes narrowed and, after a moment, he nodded. "He did," he agreed.
She had been too preoccupied with Draco and his safety at the time. She hadn't even thought of Fawkes or the way he was reborn from his own ashes.
When Hermione turned back to Draco, she found him grey, his eyes strained with exhaustion and pain. Too much Legilimency and Occlumency always took their toll on him, even on a good day. Hermione could only imagine the toll a new type of magic took on him, especially when he was already injured. "You need to rest," she said quietly.
She expected an argument from him. Instead, Draco merely nodded and dropped his head down onto her shoulder. Hermione shifted in the bed, lowering herself so that she was propped up against a pillow. Draco immediately wrapped his arms around her and rested his head against her chest. Hermione gently stroked his hair, watching as his breathing began to slow. Hermione knew he had a rough few hours ahead of him—as soon as the Skele-Gro began to take effect, it would be difficult for him to get any sleep.
Draco was very nearly asleep when there was a commotion in the infirmary. Instantly, he was wide awake, sitting up and reaching beneath the pillow for his wand. When he found it missing, he attempted to push Hermione behind him. This aggravated his injury and he hissed between his teeth. "Where's my—?"
Hermione grabbed Draco's wand from where she had placed it on the bedside table. "It's right here, Draco," she said, handing him the wand. "We aren't in any danger. We're in the infirmary. Someone's probably hurt."
His eyes flickered to hers, then back to the curtain that surrounded his bed. His body was tense.
She could see in his eyes that he was exhausted and running off pure adrenaline. "Draco," she repeated. "We're in the infirmary. We aren't in danger. I'm not in danger." Hermione gave him a grin before settling back down against the pillows and closing her eyes.
Draco remained sitting up for several minutes before sighing and lying back down next to her. Hermione felt him tuck his wand beneath the pillow before he once again rested his head against her chest.
When he finally fell asleep, Hermione took her own wand and cast a silencing charm around his hospital bed.
She kissed the top of his head before closing her own eyes, not even realizing as she, too, fell asleep.
Hermione woke when the curtain around Draco's bed was drawn. Draco, surprisingly, remained asleep. Before her stood Lavender, her mouth set in a thin line. Behind her, the infirmary was dark. Hermione had no idea how long she had been asleep.
"Visiting hours ended a long time ago," Lavender said.
Lavender was crazy if she thought Hermione would be leaving. "That's nice," Hermione replied coldly.
The corner of Lavender's mouth quirked in a facsimile of a smile. "I'll let it slide for tonight. But for tonight only," she replied.
"Thank you," Hermione said quietly.
"Tonight only," Lavender repeated. "I'm on duty—I'll be in my office. Call me when he needs a pain potion."
When. Not if.
"Thank you, Lavender," Hermione said.
Lavender nodded shortly before leaving, drawing the curtain behind her.
Draco began to sweat not long after. Then he began to groan. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he moaned. The Skele-Gro had begun to work.
"Do you want a pain potion?" Hermione asked.
Draco shook his head. "'m fine," he murmured.
"Draco," Hermione said quietly. "We're safe. We're in the infirmary. Nothing is going to happen. You're in pain—take a pain potion."
He looked up at her. "Will you stay?" he asked.
"What?" Hermione replied. "Yes, of course I'm staying. I'm not going anywhere."
Draco blinked twice before nodding. "I'll take it. As long as you stay."
She kissed his forehead. "I wasn't ever going to leave you."
Hermione gently shifted in the bed, avoiding Draco's injured leg. She made her way into the infirmary. In the corner, she saw a brightly lit office, where she found Lavender bent over a thick tome. Before Hermione even had the chance to knock on the door, Lavender's eye swiveled towards her. "Come in," she said.
"He's finally agreed to take a pain potion," Hermoine replied.
"Took him long enough," Lavender said shortly. "Regrowing that much bone is practically torture."
"Yes," Hermione agreed. "Well, he's stubborn."
Lavender stood and began rummaging through the cabinet behind her. She quickly located a pain potion and placed the vial in front of Hermione. "I remember you being the same way," Lavender replied.
"Very few things have changed," Hermione said.
"Speak for yourself."
Hermione rolled the vial of potion in her hands for a moment. "What happened?" she asked, regretting it even as the words slipped from her mouth.
Lavender appeared unfazed. "Fenrir," she replied. "At the Battle of Hogwarts."
Fenrir. A werewolf.
"Are you—?" Hermione began.
"A werewolf?" Lavender interrupted. She shook her head. "No. Luckily. He just took my eye and my life—for a few minutes, at least."
"That's why you're a Healer now?" Hermione asked.
Lavender nodded. "Without Pomfrey, I'd be half blind. She taught me everything I know."
"She's dead, isn't she?" Hermione asked, already knowing the answer.
"Yes," Lavender replied.
"I'm sorry."
Lavender merely shrugged. "It's not your fault," she said, then nodded towards the vial in Hermione's hands. "Make sure he takes all of that—he's probably in agony right now."
When Hermione returned to Draco's bed, he was very nearly in agony. He was sweating and trembling, his eyes closed tightly. Immediately, Hermion uncorked the vial and held it to his mouth. He drank the potion greedily before collapsing against the pillows. "I hate regrowing bones," he muttered.
"You've done this before?" Hermione asked.
Draco nodded. "Many times. I played Quidditch, remember?" He attempted to grin at her—he grimaced instead.
The tension in his face eased minutely, and Hermione crawled back into the bed, pulling the covers up and over them. Draco tilted his head, so that he was once again resting against her chest. "You won't leave?" he asked, his voice sounding incredibly boyish. He was in pain, and he was vulnerable.
"They'll have to drag me away," Hermione promised, kissing his forehead. "Sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."
Against her chest, he nodded.
He was asleep within minutes.
Lavender came to check on Draco's leg in the morning. Seemingly satisfied with his recovery, she nodded. "Are you in any pain?"
Draco shook his head. "No," he replied.
"Then you don't need to be here anymore," Lavender declared.
"Great," Draco said, standing, gingerly testing his full weight on his right leg. Finding that it didn't hurt, he merely nodded and looked towards Hermione. "Shall we go?"
With a final nod towards Lavender, Hermione took Draco's hand and led him from the infirmary. Luckily, the day was still early, so they didn't encounter anyone else in the hallways on the way to Hermione's room. "Welcome to the Order," Hermione said, as she closed her bedroom door behind them.
As he studied her room, Draco immediately frowned. "They're keeping you in a closet, I see."
Hermione shrugged. "Everyone else has a roommate, I think," she replied. "They weren't sure I'd want one."
Draco's eyes darkened and he took a step towards her. He took her face in his hands and tilted her chin upwards. "Well, you have a roommate now," he said, pressing his lips to hers in a greedy kiss.
"You're not my roommate," Hermione said quietly when he pulled away.
"No?" he asked, tilting his head.
"No, you're my—" Hermione began before cutting herself. Draco was what exactly? They had never discussed it, really. He couldn't possibly be her boyfriend—right?
Draco seemed to sense her struggle, because the corner of his mouth quirked in amusement. "I'm in love with you," he said quietly. "I'm whatever you want me to be."
"Boyfriend?" she replied apprehensively.
He grinned at her before kissing her again. "My parents would have preferred the term suitor, but I suppose I'll take boyfriend."
"Good," Hermione replied, feigning indignation. She kissed him softly, reveling in the fact that he was here, with her. He was real, he was safe, and he was away from Voldemort. He was here in her arms, and she was never going to let him go—she'd never let him get hurt again. She mirrored his movements, taking his face in her hands. "You are not allowed to ever get hurt again."
"Understood," he said, staring into her eyes.
Of course, in the world that they were currently living in, no promises could be made. It was likely that Draco would be hurt again—it was likely she'd be hurt, too. But they could pretend, if only for a moment. "I love you," she said quietly.
Draco did not respond—he didn't need to. He merely wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She rested her head against his chest. His chin rested against her hair. He kissed the top of her head.
There was a knock at the door, but neither one of them made to move apart. After a moment, the door opened. "Oh!" said a surprised Harry. Reluctantly, Hermione took a step away from Draco and turned to find Harry, who was looking embarrassed. He scratched at the back of his neck as he stared at his shoes. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything."
"No, it's fine," Hermione replied.
Harry didn't look up from his shoes. "Kingsley is back. He wants a meeting—now."
Hermione nodded briefly before looking back at Draco, who merely tilted his head. "Go," he said quietly. "I'll be fine."
Hermione followed Harry to the attic, where they found Ron staring grimly at his chess board. None of the pieces had made a move yet. Kingsley was on his feet, pacing in front of the desk. Harry closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his arms crossed over his body.
"What's happened?" Hermione asked. "I was told there was an issue with a spy last night."
"Spies," Kingsley spat. "As in multiple. This was exactly what I was afraid of—"
"What?" Hermione asked. "Spies? Both of them?"
"Both of them!" Kingsley replied harshly. "Malfoy's error at the Ministry just cost us all of our spies. You said we wouldn't be flying blind without Malfoy—but we are certainly flying blind now, Ms. Granger."
Ron still hadn't moved any pieces on his chess board. Kingsley was glaring at her. Harry remained at the door, appearing resigned. "Well, it's certainly not ideal," Hermione said tightly, prepared to defend Draco.
"We had three spies, now we have zero, and four more mouths to feed," Ron said, promptly knocking over his king with a flick of his index finger.
Hermione did not miss how Ron included her in the Order's current problems. Her jaw tightened. "They're here?" she asked. "The other spies?"
Kingsley nodded. "In the infirmary. One of them was in critical condition last night."
That must have been the commotion they had heard—it was another spy, who had been hurt. Briefly, she wondered if it was Theo.
"Well," Hermione began. "There's not much we can do about it now. We have the prophecy—"
"We have no spies—" Kingsley interrupted.
"Maybe we don't need spies, Kingsley," Hermione shot back. "Maybe we just need the prophecy and four more Order members. These are things that we have—we must make do."
Harry took several steps forward. "She's right, Kings," he replied. "We don't even know what the prophecy says. And more members—that can't be a bad thing, right? That's more power. More wands. There's nothing we can do now."
"Who is the other spy?" Hermione asked. "I know Theodore Nott is one. He helped Draco at the Ministry. Was he the one who was hurt?"
Kingsley fell into a chair, covering his face with his hands. "Nott is here. But no, he wasn't the one who was hurt."
Hermione waited for Kingsley to collect himself.
"It was the Greengrass girl. Astoria," Kingsley said.
Hermione's stomach dropped sharply. Astoria.
It was Astoria.
The girl Draco had pretended to date.
The pretty, faceless girl Hermione had been jealous of.
She was a spy, and she had been hurt.
"What happened?" Hermione asked quietly.
"She was his girlfriend. Malfoy's," Ron replied coldly. "The Ministry was robbed, and Malfoy disappeared suddenly. They tortured her for information until she was nearly dead."
"Did she say anything?" Hermione asked, feeling guilty even as she did so.
"You'll have to ask her," Ron said, his tone neutral.
Her body was not her own as she turned on her heel and left the attic, heading for the infirmary. When she arrived, Lavender was standing in the middle of the room, almost as if her eye had predicted that Hermione would eventually end up there. "Where are they?" Hermione asked, her voice sounding strange to her own ears. "Astoria and Theo?"
Lavender didn't move a muscle, but her false eye swiveled towards a hospital bed whose curtain was drawn. Hermione threw the curtain back and stepped inside. Astoria was lying in the bed, her eyes closed. She was thin and pale. Her hair was darker than Hermione had imagined it.
"Hello, Mudblood."
Hermione turned to find Theodore Nott sitting beside Astoria's hospital bed. He wore an unconvincing sneer, and he was nearly as pale as Astoria. Hermione felt her lip quirk. "Don't pretend," she replied. "I know exactly what you are."
"You know nothing, Mudblood," Theo spat.
"You helped Draco," Hermione said quietly. "I know that much."
Instantly, Theo's face softened. "It really was him, then?" he asked. "Is he here? Is he okay?"
Hermione nodded. "He's here. He's okay."
"Good," Theo said. "Good." His eyes darted to Astoria. "She didn't know anything, you know?" he continued after a moment. "She was dating him for information—but I was fairly certain he was a spy." He shook his head. "She didn't believe me. I told her, but she didn't believe me. I knew someone was going to steal the prophecy—I helped. But I knew it was him. She had no idea. I couldn't tell her—Fuck, I wish I had just broken the rules and told her! I should've warned her."
"Nothing about this mission went to plan," Hermione replied.
"No," Theo agreed, shaking his head. "No one was supposed to get hurt. It was supposed to be easy." Theo nodded towards Astoria, who was still unconscious. "I'm a spy because of her. I did it for her," he continued quietly. "She's my best friend. I was content to sit back and do nothing, until she became a spy."
"I thought her father financially supported—Him?" Hermione asked, remembering what Draco had told her.
Theo stared at her for a long time. "That's true. Her father financially supported all His efforts—" Theo cut off, audibly swallowing. "Until he ran out of money. Then her father sold her."
a/n: Surprise update! Welcome to Part II, please let me know what you think. Next update is scheduled for 7/21. Thanks for reading!