Chapter Fourteen
Unfortunately, planning was not the foremost in Harry Potter’s mind. One moment, Hermione was leaning forward to rearrange the papers on the coffee table, and the next, Harry pointed his wand at Malfoy and said, “Petrificus Totalus!” As Malfoy froze, Harry turned to her, wand pointed, but he said no curse. She’d had no time to reach for her wand.
“Well, that was well planned,” she sat up slowly, making sure her movements were precise.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Hermione…”
“…but it doesn’t mean you won’t. I know. I’m smarter, but you’re faster.” They’d debated before about who was the better wizard, but their theories had never needed to be tested, until now.
“Granger,” Malfoy said in her head. His body was frozen, but his thoughts weren’t, “Would you care to tell me what the hell is going on?”
“I’m not quite sure myself.” She answered honestly. Harry wasn’t supposed to trick them, she’d never imagined it in a million, okay, maybe a hundred, years.
“Stand up,” Harry told her, levitating Malfoy, “Walk ahead of me.” She took a step before Harry said, “Hands on your head.”
She laced her fingers over her skull and followed his directions. For now, she still had her wand, so the situation wasn’t hopeless, yet. Harry gave her directions to the center of the house where he set Malfoy down in a windowless room. It was more a closet. He ‘accio’d’ Malfoy’s wand and turned his own on her, after performing several complex locking charms on Malfoy’s cell.
“My office, now.” He told her firmly. Now that she knew her destination, she no longer needed directions. Once they were seated in his inner sanctum, he ‘accio’d’ her wand, and she knew that she was in trouble. “You have two minutes to tell me what is going on, starting now.”
This was Soldier Harry, the leader, and she wasn’t quite sure if he was her friend anymore. “Merlin, Harry, I told you the truth! I wouldn’t lie to you, you know that, right? We’ve been friends for almost fifteen years, can’t you trust me?”
“Obviously not.”
“I swear to you, on anything you will accept, that I didn’t know who I was working for, or with, until a few weeks ago.”
“Time’s up. Now it’s my turn.” He opened a drawer on his desk and put her and Malfoy’s wands there. Then he opened another drawer and pulled out a very thick file along with two thinner files. “Did you really think I’ve been a recluse author all of this time?”
“It did seem a little out of character.” He slid the thick folder over to her. There was a picture of Bellatrix Lestrange, along with her name, on the cover. She didn’t need to leaf through it to know what if would say. “The other two are mine and Malfoy’s, right?”
He nodded.
“What’s going on with you, Harry, since when do you keep huge files of your enemies,” and me, “In you desk? Which is great if somebody breaks in, by the way.”
“You think anyone could get to them?”
She shook her head.
“I’ve been investigating Las Brujas for three years.” He said it quietly, “Do you remember when I showed up at your flat last year, so angry I could have killed something?”
“Yes.”
“That was when I found out that you were involved. I couldn’t tell you once I realized that you didn’t know. Believe me, I wanted to, but…” He trailed off, suddenly at a loss for words.
Hermione tried to feel angry, but her rage fizzled out in a matter of seconds. “We sure are great best friends, huh?”
“You’re not going to scream at me?”
She shook her head, “Not yet. Are you going to give me my wand back?”
He shook his head, “Not yet.” He pushed Malfoy’s file at her, when she didn’t pick it up, he said, “Read it. If you knew what Malfoy has been doing, you wouldn’t have come here with him.”
“It really doesn’t matter what he’s been up to, we need each other.” Though she did grab the file.
“Are you sure?”
“Granger, what’s going on?”
“Still not sure.”
“Read the file, Hermione.” He didn’t leave the room, or even pretend to give her room.
Malfoy, Draco
DOB: 5 June 1981
Father: Malfoy, Lucius
Mother: Malfoy, Narcissa Black
Schooling: Hogwarts
House: Slytherin
Former Affiliation: Death Eater
Current Occupation: Las Brujas
Duration: 4.5 years
Knowledge of Employer: most likely
Assignment: Loyalty Confirmation
“He’s looking for spies in Las Brujas?” She asked. Harry nodded. She kept reading. Under his assignment there was a list of half a dozen names. There was no heading, just the list. “Who are they?”
“People who he’s either turned over to be killed, or that he’s killed himself. We’re not sure which.”
“Who is we?”
He took a moment, trying to figure out how to word his answer. “It’s not all that different from Las Brujas, I suppose. Several members from the remnants of the Order and a few people in the Ministry have joined to look for former Death Eaters and then we make them pay.”
“You’re vigilantes.”
“Yes,” he answered, though she hadn’t worded it as a question.
“Why didn’t you ask me to join you?” He’d said that he’d only known about her membership in Las Brujas for a year, but that he’d known of the group for three.
“I didn’t think you would have understood. It’s not like we turn the Death Eaters that we catch over to the Ministry. Some have even been acquitted. It doesn’t make them less guilty; it just means that they have friends in high places.” His tone was sane, but his words were crazy.
“You’re right. Merlin, Harry, the system may be flawed, but it has to be changed from the inside. Killing anyone who got away won’t help a thing. Besides, you could go to prison!”
“We’re not amateurs, Hermione.”
“I just--when did vigilantism become alright?”
“I knew you’d react this way. But look at who you’ve been working for! You have no right to judge--”
“I have every right! I didn’t know. It’s a flimsy excuse for what I’ve done, but at least I had good intentions. You can’t even fall back on that. What’s your excuse? Voldemort stole your childhood, so now, even thought he’s dead, you have to kill everyone who ever associated with him?”
“You don’t--”
“What, understand? I’ve known you since we were eleven fucking years old!” He flinched when she cursed, “Why did you have to stop being a good guy?” Her eyes were glistening, but she wouldn’t cry.
“We’re ridding the world of evil. Last time I checked, that was good.”
“It’s not your job to decide who lives and dies. You may be Harry Potter, but that doesn’t make you God!”
“Someone has to do it, Hermione. The Ministry is too corrupt, there’s no one but them for law enforcement. Did you think that I could just sit around and let killers walk free?”
She threw her hands up in the air, “You are a killer, Harry! Did that fact escape you? We’re not at war anymore, those rules no longer apply.”
“Well, What else am I going to do? As many people love me as hate me in the political world. And, besides, I hate politics. I can’t hold to some illusion that I can change this world again.”
“You’re going to kill Malfoy.” She tried no to think about why this made her more angry than anything else.
“Not personally, and he needs to be questioned first. I’d think you wouldn’t be so mad about it. Think of what he’s done to you and me.”
“Five years ago.” Was she defending Malfoy? When had the world turned on it’s axis?
“You’re defending him?” Oh, wow, Harry was sharing her thoughts. Maybe soon, all of England would be, too. “Don’t you remember who he was? He called you a,” the next word he whispered, “Mudblood.”
“That was five years ago. And we’ve actually worked well together. Are you sure that he knew who he was working for? That Bellatrix was his boss?”
Harry didn’t answer, and that told her enough.
“Where will you take him for interrogation? And to murder him?”
“He should already be there.”
That was when Hermione felt the first stab of pain. It was in her stomach, like she’d been stabbed. She looked down, gasping, and saw nothing, then she felt for anything. But these were phantom pains. Malfoy was being tortured for information. They, whoever they were, didn’t plan to let him live, so they weren’t holding back.
In that moment, she began to hate Harry Potter.
And then she passed out.
She didn’t come to in Harry’s house. She woke up into a dream. Malfoy was there, haggard looking, covered in a light sheen of sweat. “Well, Granger, I believe this is the part where I say I told you so.”
“Come off it, even you didn’t think of this,” she approached him, looking for wounds. There was nothing visible, and she couldn’t see any blood. “They crucio’d you.” Her voice held disgust.
Malfoy just nodded, to in pain, even in this dream world for a biting comment. “When did your boy switch sides? Last I checked, torture was mostly a bad guy thing.”
“You would know.”
“I guess I would.”
His face was right in front of her, she wiped some of the sweat off of his face with her sleeve. Realizing what she was doing, she took her hand down and said, “They’re going to kill you. Harry’s organized a band of vigilantes.” She quickly told him everything that Harry had told her.
Malfoy was silent for a minute. Finally he said, “If I were a better person, I wouldn’t even ask what I’m about to, but I’m not a good person. Is there a way for you to rescue me? At all?”
“I don’t know.”
Malfoy nodded. Almost as if he were resigned.
“I didn’t say that I wouldn’t try. Can you describe where they took you? The room that you’re in?”
“The room is an ugly green, but it’s really dark. I didn’t see anything while they transported me. Potter locked me in that room and it was pitch black. I was knocked out, and then I woke up in the green room. It smells bad, like moth balls, but I can’t hear anything. Either it’s soundproofed or no one is near me.”
She was thinking of possible places, the one’s that had been used during her Order days, “Does the house feel old?”
“Feel, that doesn’t sound very exact, Granger.”
She sighed, “Do you want me to save your life?”
“It feels like an old house that no one lives in. How’s that?”
“And you’ve seen no other rooms?” The wheels in her brain were turning. “You’re absolutely sure?”
“I’m quite sure.”
“What--”
She woke up, Harry was shaking her. “What’s going on, Hermione? Are you alright? You just passed out on me.”
“How long was I out?” She sat up slowly, resisting his help.
“Less than an hour. Don’t scare me like that.” He handed her a glass of water, she didn’t accept it.
“I’m not going to let you kill Malfoy, Harry.”
“I won’t.”
She leaned her head back, knocking it against the wall, “You gave him to your people and they will kill him. I’m holding you responsible.”
“You really don’t have a choice.”
She laughed harshly, “You don’t even know me anymore, do you?”
He didn’t answer, but they both knew they truth. They’d not only drifted apart in five years, they had become different people.
She had to choose, Harry Potter, boy wonder and best friend, or Draco Malfoy, question mark in her mental book of labels.
It wasn’t a hard decision.