Chapter 1
December, 2002
Hermione turned side to side in front of the old silver mirror, examining the ballgown she wore. It was somehow both perfectly modest and unbearably revealing; the onyx black silk fell all the way to the floor hiding her legs, long sleeves covered her all the way to the backs of her hands, and even the neckline sat high enough that there was only the barest hint of cleavage. And yet, Hermione had never felt more exposed. The gown clung to her like a second skin, hugging her body and revealing every dip and curve. Then there was the jewelry- everything about her outfit tonight was meant to keep the attention off of her, but it would be strange, for the daughter of a wealthy Death Eater who was searching for a husband, to show up to an event like this one with nary a gem in sight. Thankfully, Sirius still had access to the Black Family vaults in Gringotts, so Hermione was decked out with a simple diamond pendant, matching earrings, and a delicate, elegant tiara.
She had argued with Kingsley for nearly an hour over the tiara, insisting that it would draw too much attention. But of course, Kings had dragged Sirius into the discussion to all but bully her into submission. He had, after all, been raised as a proper, pureblooded male of the Noble House of Black, until he managed his escape from his mother. For much of his childhood he had attended a myriad of high society pureblood events like this one. He knew exactly what would and would not draw unwanted attention, what clothing was appropriate for her disguise, and had been involved in every minute detail of the plan for tonight.
If it was anyone else, that might make Hermione feel better, but Sirius wasn't exactly known for thinking everything through from every angle. Of course, it wasn't like he had planned it all out alone, but that didn't detract from her opinion that this was a harebrained scheme, dreamed up by a man who had been trapped in a gloomy old house, almost completely alone, for far too long. Now that Voldemort had won the war, there really wasn't much point in Sirius hiding anymore, but it seemed he was determined to do anything, consequences be damned, that he thought might help the Order, as if he were making up for lost time. Even if it meant sending the only "sister" his godson had on a suicide mission.
Needless to say, Hermione wasn't exactly thrilled to see Sirius when he knocked at the door, stepping inside the gloomy attic room when she offered a quiet "come in." Lucky for him, he had been smart enough to bring witnesses, and however angry Hermione might be at Sirius she would never kill Harry's godfather, at least not in front of him. For just one, brief moment, seeing Harry and Ron standing on either side of the older man, she felt as though she were being replaced. It had felt that way sometimes, as Harry turned more and more often to Sirius instead of her. She shook the thought away almost immediately. Harry wasn't replacing her, he still came to her for almost everything. But he had stopped coming to her for more practical advice, or to talk about his relationship with Ginny, and she couldn't lie and say it didn't hurt that she had to learn things from Ron now, instead of directly from him.
She was very grateful to see Ron, since he had been one of the few people who had argued with her that this plan was completely unhinged. At least someone in this room was on her side, and even though he couldn't stop what had already been set in motion, Hermione felt significantly less alone with him there. After their brief romantic relationship had failed less than two months into the war, somehow she and Ron had become closer, as if now that they had made an honest attempt, and saw that it didn't work, it was just something out of their way. Ginny and Harry had worked out, Luna and Neville had worked out, and Ron and Hermione hadn't. No more pressure from family, just the pure, sibling-like friendship Hermione remembered from their early Hogwarts days. When she caught his eye in the mirror, he nodded sympathetically, and she breathed just a little bit easier, finally summoning the courage to turn around.
"All ready?" Sirius asked, his voice loud and abrasive in the quiet room.
"I believe so." Hermione responded shortly, noting the glint of guilt that flashed briefly through both Harry and Sirius's eyes at her sharpness.
"Well, then." The older man cleared his throat awkwardly. "Best to get a move on, then. Here-" he held out a large vial full of a brown, mud-like substance. "-Is your polyjuice for tonight. Remember, it's a double batch so it should last you two hours instead of one, but you should be in and out-"
"Before I even hit the hour mark, I know." Hermione cut him off, irritated. They had gone over the plan a thousand times. This was the simplest part, it didn't need reviewing. With a huff, she scooped up the hem of her dress and withdrew her wand from the holster strapped to her thigh, then turned to face the mirror, raising and preparing to cast the incantation when Ron suddenly called out to her.
"Hermione, wait!" There was a hint of desperation in his pale blue eyes when she turned back to face him. "Give this to her for me, will you?" He stepped up to her as he spoke, dropping his voice into a murmur and pressing something small and warm into her palm. "Tell her I love her."
Hermione nodded, and Ron suddenly leaned forward and pulled her into a tight hug, as though they wouldn't be seeing each other in just a few hours' time.
"Be safe, 'Mione."
"I will." She offered him a small smile, then turned back to the mirror. She took a deep breath, raised her wand, and tapped it three times against the mirror before whispering
"Apparere," and vanished through the rippling silver surface.
Hermione emerged feeling as if she had just walked through a rushing waterfall. She had created the spell that allowed people to pass between connected mirrors, a mix between Apparition and the enchantment that bound the small mirrors Harry and Sirius used sometimes, but she hadn't had the chance to perfect it to her liking. She glanced back at her reflection and was relieved that this time, at least, she had managed to emerge only feeling like she had been doused in ice cold water, instead of looking it too. They didn't have much time before the ball began, and Hermione was going to need every last second to prepare. Noticing that nobody had arrived to greet her, she began to examine the unfamiliar room instead while waiting for her hostess.
It couldn't be more obvious that she was in one of the old pureblood manors. The room was taller and wider than the entire third floor of Grimmauld Place, and resembled rooms she'd seen in period dramas. A large, four-poster bed reached almost to the ceiling, decked out in gold and green drapery with bedding to match. A pair of glass lattice doors led out onto a balcony that gave her a view of the hauntingly beautiful English countryside.The floor and walls were made up of mahogany, the walls done in an elegant paneling that reminded Hermione of an old muggle manor she'd once toured with her classmates in primary school.Vine and flower motifs were carved into the crown molding, and beautiful Persian rugs were scattered all throughout the room.
It was stunning, and she felt a sudden spike of envy as she spied a pair of doorways, one leading off into a surprisingly modern ensuite bathroom, and the other into what could only be a private library, complete with a writing desk and window seat. Hermione had been sharing a bathroom with at least six people at all times since the Order had officially moved back into Grimmauld Place after the Battle of Hogwarts, and it was rare that she got more than five minutes alone before someone was banging on the door, demanding their turn. Her body was craving the comforting scent of parchment and ink that she associated with nearly all magical libraries, subject as her nose had been to the mildewed odor that pervaded the library at Headquarters.
Before Hermione could act on the impulse to go exploring, however, the bedroom door opened, and Daphne Greengrass sauntered in as if she hadn't a care in the world. She was the woman of the hour tonight, as this was not only a commemoration of the Battle of Hogwarts, but also her engagement ball. She was expected to stand by Theodore Nott, her fiance, with a deliriously happy smile on her face as though she had been given her heart's desire. And the woman had clearly been keeping up that facade for someone out in the hall, because as soon as she closed the door and caught sight of Hermione, the nonchalantness she had walked in with melted away in an instant.
"Thank Merlin you're here, I was starting to worry. There's just so much to be done, you know, I haven't had a moment to eat all day! Come, come, we don't have much time. Do you have the potion?" The rush of words out of Daphne's mouth and the flurry of gestures she made with her hands took Hermione aback for a moment. The girl she knew from Hogwarts was quiet, composed, and arrogant, the same way most Slytherins were, their wealth teaching them that the world belonged to them first, and everyone else second. But the woman in front of her was anxious, her steps hasty instead of elegant, and despite the beautiful gown and jewelry, she appeared completely ragged.
"Hermione?" Daphne closed in on her, and Hermione realized she had been staring and hadn't responded.
"Yes, sorry, I have the potion right here-" she didn't get a chance to finish her sentence before the other girl was ripping the vial from her hand, popping the cork with an overzealous tap of her wand, and marching to the vanity that sat just a few steps away from them. Daphne opened one of the drawers with a rough tug, and after rummaging for a moment produced a hairbrush covered in straight blonde hair, completely the opposite of the coffee-colored, tightly coiled curls that sprung from the Greengrass girl's head. Hermione gulped at the sight. This was suddenly far too real. For a second, she thought about retreating back through the mirror as Daphne plucked a hair from the brush and dropped it into the Polyjuice, turning it a pale, vivid pink.
But then Daphne was shoving the vial into her hands, and she instinctively raised it to her lips, downing the horrid concoction in one thick swallow. A second passed as the potion worked its way through her system, and then her transformation began. Hermione grit her teeth and tried to hold in her moans of pain as her skin bubbled and shifted, her hair suddenly changing from toffee brown to vibrant gold, losing all the volume and curl of her actual hair. Her skin lightened several shades, as did her brows. The shape of her nose and lips tweaked slightly, giving her a newer, less pouty mouth and an aquiline nose.
Her freckles were the last thing to disappear, and Hermione thanked Merlin when the transformation was completed and she realized that her new doppelgänger was a few inches taller than her. She wouldn't need to wear the pair of high heels on her feet and immediately kicked them off, then used her wand to transfigure them into a pair of simple ballet flats. Daphne appeared next to her once more, using magic to tighten the dress in a few places and loosen it in others, and at her nod Hermione stepped back to take in the effect.
Astoria Greengrass stared back at her from the mirror. Despite having used polyjuice several times over the last ten years, Hermione was still shocked every time at just how effective it was. Even her eyes were no longer brown, but instead bright green. Every minute detail was produced in a way that human transfiguration could never quite match. It was perfect.
"It's perfect!" Daphne echoed, as if she had heard Hermione's thoughts. She clapped her hands together in excitement, then just as quickly returned to business, all but dragging her "sister" to her vanity and forcing her down into the chair in front of it. She deftly removed the tiara from Hermione's head and set it aside, running a brush through the somewhat-messy strands. A wave of her wand and a quiet accio makeup bag had a large, hot pink bag flying across the room towards them. It landed on the floor next to her chair with a thud, and Daphne hummed in thought as she began to sort through it, tossing brushes and palettes and a few other tools that looked vaguely like torture devices to Hermione, onto the vanity table. Hermione curled her fists, anxiously awaiting her second transformation of the evening, when suddenly she realized her hand was clenching around the item Ron had pressed into it before she left. Opening her palm, she stared down in shock at what she was very, very certain was Molly Weasley's wedding ring. Apparently, Daphne recognized it too, because she snatched it from Hermione's hand before she had a chance to react, and was staring at it in awe.
"This is Molly's ring isn't it? Did Ron give this to you? Is it for me? Oh that stupid, sweet Gryffindor!" Hermione was once again silenced by Daphne's torrent of questions, so instead when the other girl finally met her eyes in the mirror, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, she simply nodded and smiled.
"He told me to tell you he loves you." She said quietly. "I think he wanted to say more, but we weren't alone and I was already running late." Hermione wasn't even sure Daphne was listening to the last bit. Instead, she was humming quietly to herself, dancing about with the ring as if it were Ron himself, before sliding it onto her finger and letting a single tear fall to the floor.
"That idiot. He wanted to make sure I know he's not mad at me for tonight." Daphne hugged her hand to her chest, and Hermione marveled for a moment at the gesture, and at how grown up Ron had become. At Hogwarts he had had more than his share of jealous moments, and a few times he had even become downright possessive over both Harry and Hermione. But now here he was, the love of his life engaged to another man, and instead of the bitterness she might have expected in the past, he had simply made sure that Daphne knew how much he loved her, that he supported her.
The moment also left her terrified, though. So caught up was she in preparing herself for the ball and her new persona, that she had forgotten that this had become more than just a reconnaissance mission. Tonight was also the night Daphne and Astoria were going to escape from their family. Hermione's job was both to gather intel and to smuggle the girls out of the Manor and back to Headquarters. Daphne, so that she could officially join the Order and, based on the gift Ron had sent along, finally marry the man she truly loved. Astoria was supposed to leave the country, but she had been fighting with Kingsley and Moody over this, demanding that she be allowed to stay near her sister despite her refusal to join the Order. Everything hinged on Astoria's cooperation, which was apparently quite touch-and-go, and she and Daphne had apparently been arguing for weeks about the plan.
Her heart clenched at the thought; it was so much harder to carry out missions like this when family and love and other emotions were involved. If Astoria decided that forcing Daphne to remain with the Greengrass's was the right choice, or even if she herself simply decided to stay behind out of love or loyalty to her family, they were screwed. At least Astoria had agreed to the plan and would be staying out of the ballroom tonight. But Daphne would be right in the center of it all, and was almost in more danger than if she were going onto an actual battlefield. Battles between the Order and the 'New Regime', as they had taken to calling themselves, were near-constant exchanges of Avadas and other quick, life-ending curses. But if Daphne and Hermione were caught, it would be in a ballroom full of Death Eaters. Their deaths would be long, slow, and drawn-out, involving excruciating torture of both themselves and their loved ones. Hermione wouldn't put it past Astoria to sell her out to save herself and her sister.
When Daphne finally came down from her high, she apologized to Hermione and immediately set to work. They sat in silence for a while, with only the sound of brushes moving softly over products and skin, until it became too much for Hermione and, unable to think of anything else, she blurted out the question that had been on her mind since she first learned about the addition Ron had put into Sirius's plan.
"Why do you want to join the Order?" Daphne's eyes flicked up and met hers in the mirror, before she returned her focus to her wand, which she was now using to curl Hermione's newly-straight hair.
"It's a bit of a long story..." she hedged.
"We have at least twenty minutes." Hermione pointed out. "I promise this is only coming from a place of curiosity, nothing more." She said firmly, but gently. Daphne visibly relaxed at her reassurance.
"Sorry, it's just..."
"They asked you that a lot when you first expressed interest in coming over?" Hermione finished for her with an understanding smile.
"Exactly." Daphne laughed, the sound easy and light despite the fact that they were discussing the betrayal of all her family and friends. But then she sobered up suddenly, glancing around suspiciously and dropping her voice until it was so soft, Hermione was almost straining to hear.
"At first it started out as an escape route from this marriage," a warm curl dropped against her back. "I've been engaged to Theo since we were three years old, and he's fine, you know? We probably could've been happy." Another curl fell, this one hotter than the last. "He was always kind and sweet, but we just never had much in common. And then, when the New Regime took over it was like..." Daphne trailed off, and Hermione tried not to panic as she noticed the other girl was holding a ringlet in place around her wand much longer than she had any of the others, staring off into space as she searched for the words to explain. "It was like suddenly that boy I knew was gone." Finally the curl was released and Hermione was almost relieved to feel the uncomfortable heat against her skin.
"What do you mean?" Hermione gently prompted when Daphne lapsed into silence. The other girl turned away and began to rummage in the vanity drawers again, this time pulling out dozens of hair pins and a few products Hermione vaguely recognized as things Parvati and Lavender had used at school, and placed them on the table.
"He became distant. Cold. He wasn't kind or sweet anymore, and then he- he took the Mark." Daphne had gathered a few strands of hair, but she choked on a sob as she tried to speak and dropped them almost immediately. Guilt overwhelmed Hermione. She should have left well enough alone, and was about to say as much when the other girl started to speak again, her voice still shaky but a little stronger, her hands gathering the long blonde strands and beginning to deftly twist and pin as she talked.
"Him and Draco and a few others all did it together, and suddenly the friends I'd had my whole life, who I always thought were good people, became torturers and murders and Merlin knows what else. And then I met Ron, and..." Daphne trailed off, and Hermione just nodded. She was quite familiar with that story. Ron had, out of the blue, begun to take more shifts in Diagon and Knockturn Alley than ever before, where an Order member was always posted to keep an eye on the comings, goings, and purchases of known Death Eaters. After a few weeks of this, when Ron was normally so hesitant to take guard duty, Hermione had finally cornered him and demanded the truth.
He had admitted rather sheepishly that he had had a run-in with one Daphne Greengrass, on her way to a fitting for the very gowns both girls presently wore. Late for the appointment with her mother and sister, and occupied with tucking some loose knuts back into her change purse, Daphne had walked straight into Ron, who stood disillusioned a few doors down from Madam Malkins, the favored spot for those on duty since it provided a good view of both alleys. Hermione had scolded him, wondering how he could be so careless, and Ron had turned almost as red as his hair from embarrassment, before she remembered that there was another point to this story that she had gotten carried away from. He had been distracted, watching Rabastian and Rodolphus Lestrange head into Knockturn Alley heading for the shop that sold rare books on Dark magic, so when Daphne stumbled into him Ron reacted exactly as he would if it were any other woman, reaching out to right her before she could fall. Daphne, being a fairly skilled duelist, had pulled her wand and banished his charm in a second, but according to both Ron and Daphne the moment their eyes had met it was love. Hermione privately suspected it was actually more lust at first, because they had begun sleeping together within a week despite hardly knowing one another.
But they were happy, and Hermione was happy they were happy, so she had let it be, and had even helped Ron a few times by taking his shift so he could see her. Daphne's request to join the Order had only been finalized in the last week after an intense round of interrogation with Kingsley and Moody, and a good deal of Veritaserum if Hermione knew the men.
"I promise, after tonight you'll be safe with the Order, and Astoria will be off to the continent or America or wherever they've decided to send her. We've just got to get through the next few hours." Hermione reassured Daphne, injecting a confidence she couldn't quite muster in herself into her words.
"And we will." Daphne seemed to match her confidence, but it didn't go unnoticed that her hands were shaking as she stepped back from Hermione, admiring her handiwork. "You're ready, by the way! What do you think?" The other girl's face brightened as they shifted gears to discussing the hair and makeup. After a few minor adjustments, Daphne finally reached over for the tiara and settled it on her head, and Hermione couldn't hold in her gasp. Although it wasn't really her face, she felt absolutely beautiful. Daphne grinned, and Hermione rose to embrace the other girl. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her.
"Where is Astoria?" She didn't know the other Greengrass girl, but she suddenly felt concerned for her well-being. The side of the plan involving the escape was mostly orchestrated by Ron, and Hermione had been given as few details as possible so that, should something happen, Hermione would be unable to provide any information. But not knowing something was one of both her greatest fears and her greatest frustrations. It was hard for a strategist like her to not have all the pieces. Thankfully, Daphne responded, though with a grimace that told Hermione she wasn't particularly fond of this part of the plan.
"She's hiding out with the portkey out on the grounds somewhere. When it's time for us to go, she'll send us a patronus so we know where exactly she is." Hermione nodded. Having Astoria out of the manor completely should make the whole mission easier, since there was significantly less risk that someone would stumble across her. According to Daphne, balls like this were typically an excuse for the teenagers and young adults, and even on occasion the actual adults, to disappear into one of the many libraries, studies, or bedrooms and have sex or use potions. Having Astoria farther away might make escaping more difficult, but ultimately it was worth it to minimize the chance of discovery. Hermione was about to say as much when suddenly the bedroom door burst open without so much as a knock, and she almost jumped out of her chair in alarm. A tall, balding man with thin strands of blonde hair, and pale, milky skin that matched hers-that is, Astoria's- stepped into the room. The sight of Death Eater robes nearly had Hermione scrambling for her wand, but Daphne placed an easy hand on her shoulder, indicating that all was well, and Hermione slumped back in her chair with relief.
"Girls, we're going to be late. We need to leave now if we're to make it to the Malfoy's on time." Florian Greengrass, Daphne and Astoria's father, announced in a surprisingly aggressive tone, given that he was- or believed he was- speaking to his two daughters. But his surprising anger wasn't what caught Hermione most off guard.
"What do you mean, father, the Malfoy's?' Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione watched Daphne go deathly pale under her blush and knew the same must be happening to her. The ball tonight was taking place in the Greengrass manor ballroom, which was the entire reason the mission had been planned for tonight. Security here was significantly more lax than Malfoy Manor, which was now the permanent residence of the Dark Lord. Daphne knew the secret passageways that littered the old house like the back of her hand, and had made certain that two separate tunnels would be easily accessible should they need another way out. Even having Astoria out on the grounds was a completely feasible method of escape, because it wouldn't be difficult, even in the dark, for Daphne to lead them there.
"Exactly as I said, now hurry up!" He snapped, his face becoming cloudy with rage when neither girl moved, frozen in place with dread. He may as well have handed them a death sentence, and yet somehow Hermione was supposed to jump right to her feet and march along like a good little soldier? She wanted to run, to argue, to tell this man that it simply couldn't be. How could they switch the venue like this, so last minute? It wasn't possible. Her blood was turning to ice as her mind raced through the possibilities: Perhaps the plan was compromised, and someone would be waiting there for her to escort her straight down to the dungeons. Perhaps Astoria had known about this and had purposefully hidden it to thwart Daphne's plans to leave. Perhaps-
"Imperio!" Florian cried. A fog settled over Hermione's mind, and despite the surge of panic that rose up, demanding that she fight it like she was trained to do, she allowed it to drape over her like a blanket. I can fight it if I need to, she reminded herself. Walk to the fireplace in my study and wait for me there, came the whisper in her mind. Thankfully, Daphne walked a pace or two ahead of her, leading the way. Finally, after a surprisingly short walk, the two girls stepped into the designated room and Hermione felt the curse drop away from her mind. Relief swept through her, but she knew the danger was far from over. Daphne was silent as they waited, and taking a cue from her Hermione did not speak. Instead, she contemplated the fact that a father had performed an Unforgivable curse on his daughters simply because they were not moving fast enough. The ease with which he had cast the spell and the lack of reaction from Daphne told her that this was not an uncommon event in this house, and she felt a pang of sympathy for these girls, subjected to this kind of treatment by their own parents. At least when people cast Unforgivables at Hermione, she knew they were her enemies. These girls were being attacked by the very person meant to be protecting them.
Several moments passed, and Hermione attempted to drop into a meditative state as she tried to think through their options for escape. But too much was racing through her brain, and there were too many unknowns. The wards on Malfoy Manor were both many and extremely dangerous. Thank goodness they had opted for polyjuice over transfiguration; The Order had figured out, after a few trial runs, that polyjuice potion also changed the very blood in the body to mimic whoever was being impersonated. Having the pureblooded girl's blood running through her veins should protect her until the potion wore off. At that point she'd be on her own, but Hermione supposed that at least she'd be able to attempt her mission, instead of being magically eviscerated the second she stepped out of the Floo.
Once again Hermione jumped, shaken out of her thoughts, as the door to the study burst open, just as Daphne's bedroom door had, although this time a short woman, about Hermione's actual height, walked in, with the same tight, coffee-colored curls and eyes as Daphne. Clearly her mother, then, Hermione surmised, Flora Greengrass. Ha, she thought stupidly. Flora and Florian. She wanted to snort, but thought better of it as the woman stared her daughters down just as easily as Florian had moments ago. Flora examined each girl individually, her eyes skating over both Daphne and Hermione as if searching for flaws. Seeming to find none, she simply nodded. Then, quick as a viper, she was beside Hermione, pinching the skin at the back of her arm so tightly she cried out in shock and pain.
"Stand up straight," Flora hissed through her teeth. "If I catch you slouching like that again tonight, you will be locked in your room for a month, do you understand me?" Spittle flew and landed on Hermione's cheek, but she didn't dare wipe it away, instead nodding, straightening her spine, and dropping her eyes to the floor demurely, just as Sirius had instructed. If someone with authority speaks to you, he'd said, stand up straight but do not make eye contact. She was grateful for that guidance now, as it seemed to placate Flora, and she let go of Hermione's arm without any sort of apology. Another minute passed, all three women standing in complete silence, and Hermione surreptitiously wiped away the wetness on her cheek just as Florian barged into the room.
Instead of speaking, the man simply gestured impatiently to the fireplace, and Hermione watched Flora sweep up the train of her pale blue gown, gather a fistful of Floo powder, and throw it into the grate in front of them with a shout of "Malfoy Manor!" Florian gestured to Daphne and her next, and Hermione stepped up to the other girl and linked arms with her, deciding that if they were about to run headfirst into their deaths, they might as well go together.
Gathering a handful of powder, Daphne took a deep breath and then, with not a quiver in her voice, threw down the sand-like substance into the flames and called out "Malfoy Manor!". The flames flared up, turning a violent shade of green, and then Daphne was pulling Hermione along with her, into the dizzying abyss that would take them straight into the heart of the enemy's home.