Chapter 12
After speaking with Kreacher, they discovered that the locket had been in the house for years, only to be pillaged by Mundungus Fletcher after Sirius’ death. It took Ginny putting Harry in a full body bind for him to calm down at the disrespect his godfather was shown by the other wizard.
Sending Kreacher to locate Dobby so they could track down the thief, Hermione told the rest of them it was time to go to sleep for a few hours. It was past four when Ginny and Hermione returned to their room and passed out on the beds, too tired to talk about the fact that Malfoy was speaking again.
When Hermione woke up, she had only managed a measly three hours of sleep. Not wanting to dwell on how much she should sleep so she didn’t lose focus and end up in the hands of Death Eaters, she went to the bathroom down the hall to shower and dress.
Her entire wardrobe was sitting in her charmed purse, so she felt like a new person when she put new clothes on; her minute fear of not having enough clean laundry when they went fully on the run was not rational at the moment, and Kreacher promised if they left clothes and such behind when they changed locations, the washing would get done.
When the water began to cool, Hermione knew it was time to get out and prepare breakfast for herself and the others. One of the rules they agreed to was the first to wake made breakfast, and the last to sleep would take first watch. First watch didn’t matter much when they were holed up in Grimmuald, but two teenage boys needed to be fed no matter the location.
They’ll have to talk about how to get food—having a designated hunter and gatherer would be necessary or the morally gray area of stealing from muggle towns was still up for debate among the four noble Gryffindors.
It is entirely too early for that brain of yours to be creating pro/con lists regarding food collection, Granger. You could simply call Minty to take care of it.
Settling in the kitchen to start eggs and bacon, Hermione rolled her eyes. Malfoy, you go mute for days and then have the audacity to joke about my thinking habits. Where were you?
She heard footsteps upstairs and knew one of the others was awake and would be down soon. Content to have her conversation with Malfoy unseen, she waited for him to speak.
I don’t want to indulge you in the wrath of the Dark Lord when he figured out someone had warned you four to flee before his Death Eaters got there, so I will refrain from answering.
The gasp she let out was harsh amidst the sizzling of bacon and the quiet of the kitchen. Hermione didn’t stop to think much about whether Malfoy would be on the receiving end of Voldemort’s dark curses, and she was ashamed because she should have.
You don’t have to tell me, but are you okay? Do you need anything?
The footsteps began a descent down the stairs, and Hermione moved on to making toast with the last of the bread.
Malfoy’s voice sounded guarded when he answered her. Granger, don’t worry about me. Are you okay? Did you get hurt in the last few days?
I am okay. Did you hear much of what I was doing during your self-imposed exile? It was meant to be quippy, but she worried that it sounded too harsh and mean. She didn’t want him to joke her for her worry.
I tried very hard to shut you out because the Dark Lord was in someone’s mind for three days. I couldn’t let him find this, couldn’t risk it. He sounded so desperate.
Does he know about the prophecy?
Yes.
The word beat around her mind as the kitchen door opened to reveal Harry and Ron.
“Hermione, everything okay?” Harry said, coming around to get plates.
“Yeah, you’re just staring into space,” Ron replied as he sat at the table.
She shook her head. You’ll tell me everything later?
Yes, Snape can’t come to the house today, but I can.
Hermione removed the bacon from the pan, and went to get the milk when Kreacher appeared.
“Kreacher has run into a problem retrieving Master Regulus’ locket for the Half-Blooded Master,” he croaked. His clothing was atrocious and Hermione could smell the poor thing over the aroma of bacon and eggs.
Harry took the plate of food from her and gestured to her to sit next to him. “What kind of problem?”
Kreacher wrung his hands together and whimpered. “Kreacher tried to locate the thief, but thieves are tricky. Kreacher called an old friend, old Black family elf, and Kreacher was told the wretched thief was being held by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”
Oh that’s just bloody perfect, Hermione thought. She took a drink of milk that she accio’d, then smacked her head on the table lightly and groaned. “Why does nothing go right?” she muttered.
“Does anyone know where his base is?” Ron asked, shoveling food down his throat, Hermione barely heard him over it. When he caught Hermione’s glare, he shrugged and kept eating.
She knew where his base was. There was only one place that Malfoy would have constant access to Voldemort, and Voldemort was vindictive enough to punish the Malfoys for their continued failure in his eyes. But she didn’t know how to say it. Harry would know where the information came from, but she was still hesitant to deal Ron into the game.
Luckily, Kreacher saved her. “Kreacher knows.”
Harry nudged her and broke into a grin. He looked grateful that Kreacher would be the one to deliver the news. “Where is it?”
Ginny came through the kitchen doors just as Kreacher opened his mouth and two words slipped out.
“Malfoy Manor.”
The red-headed girl seemed to need explanation after she came, so Hermione quickly filled her in. Ginny smirked at her friend and said, “So, how are we getting to Malfoy Manor?”
No, you’re not coming here, Malfoy said as soon as Ron shouted “Absolutely not!”
Oh Draco, I wonder what Ron would say if he found out you both agreed on something like keeping his sister safe, Hermione thought with a laugh that escaped her lips.
Darling, it’s not just the little Weasley I want safe.
Ron turned to her. “What the bloody hell is so funny?”
She felt her cheeks turn red at Malfoy’s words and being caught laughing to herself. “Nothing. Anyway, let’s focus on meeting with our new informant before we run head first into a fight we won’t win.”
Harry was inclined to agree. He nodded enthusiastically. “Kreacher, could you talk with your old friend again to see if the elf is able to talk to Mundungus about the locket?”
The old elf looked at Hermione with narrowed eyes. “Minty is not allowed to enter the dungeons. Her mistress forbade it.”
“Well, could you manage to get down there and ask about it?” Harry pushed, looking at Hermione with a question in his eyes. “We need to know what happened to that locket if we are going to have a proper plan.”
Kreacher gave a low bow and said “Of course, Master. One must tell the… mistress to lift the command.”
Hermione was uneasy as she said, "I guess her mistress should give her the okay?"
The old elf gave Hermione a sage nod, and what looked like a small smile. "Of course, Mis-Miss Granger."
The four teenagers stared at the elf. Was he able to call me mistress?
Before she could question it, Kreacher disappeared. When he popped away, Ron tucked back into his food, Harry made Ginny a plate, and Hermione thought of the best way to break the news to Ron about who they were actually meeting today.
He’s a big boy, Granger, Malfoy said softly. If he can’t handle being offered information then he shouldn’t be fighting a war.
None of us should be was all she could say. Because that was the truth. None of them should be fighting in a war, they didn’t know the first thing about war. Strategy and curses for fighting were not taught in Hogwarts–Hermione very much doubted that a stinging hex would make a suitable counter to avada kedavra. And thanks to Dumbledore’s lack of insight into the DADA professors he hired, their defense lessons were spotty at best.
The other three seemed to engage each other in conversation about what would happen to the Quidditch House Cup this year considering Gryffindor lost three players and Merlin knew which students from Slytherin would be returning. She let them talk for a little while, let them all be teenagers again before she burst the bubble with meeting a major informant.
Looking at the watch on her wrist, 7:15. She took a breath and made the comment.
“Snape is unable to meet us today.” Conversation stopped. “He’s sending someone else.”
Harry and Ginny shared a look. Ginny spoke first. “How about we leave you two to talk?”
The two made their way to leave, but Ron stopped them. “Why? How do you even know?”
Hermione looked at him, and gave a small smile. “Ron, I need you to make me a promise.”
“What?” He looked concerned. Looking to Harry and Ginny for support, but they were looking at her.
She took another breath. “I need you to promise not to say or do anything rash.”
Ron looked concerned, but refused to agree. “You’re not secretly dating Snape are you? That would put a damper on plans.” He tried to laugh it off, but when he noticed the other three occupants weren’t laughing, he sobered. “Oh, Merlin, I was just joking. You aren’t really seeing Snape, surely.”
That is an image I did not need this morning. Actually scratch that, that is an image no one needed, ever. Draco had a point, but Hermione did not have time to wage a battle over her attention at the moment.
Draco, I will ask you kindly to shut up. Apparently that was all it took because he said nothing else. Focusing back on Ron, Hermione spoke. “There is an informant who gave me information in a secure way no one besides the two of us can access. I cannot tell you exactly how, but I promise that this person has done nothing, to my knowledge, that would jeopardize our mission.”
“Okay…” Ron said slowly. “Mione I know you’re smarter than everyone, but you don’t need to talk down to me like I’m Lockhart in St. Mungo’s or some other nutter in the Janis Thickney Ward.”
Oh, not very friendly, is he? Hermione shot a glare in the direction she assumed, without actually verifying the cardinal directions, Malfoy Manor was in comparison to herself at Grimmuald. I assume based on the vivid image of you throttling me that I am being chastised. Forgive me for enjoying a show.
“Alright, Ron,” she started, voice chilled in her various shades of annoyance, “if you want me to come outright and say it, then I will. But don’t forget you promised to not do anything rash.” The look she gave him stopped any word from exiting his open mouth. “Draco Malfoy will be meeting us at a secure safehouse to discuss our plans in lieu of Snape.”
For a solid minute–thanks to the clock in the Black family kitchen–Ron said nothing. The emotional range he went through was that of a toe dipped in the water. Shock, understanding, and then rage. He looked behind Hermione at Harry and Ginny who were idly standing in the doorframe.
With a narrowed eyed look, Ron addressed the three of them. “You all knew?” Three heads nod. “You’ve known for how long and kept it from me?”
“Harry and I found out–” Ginny started but her brother cut her off.
“I knew there was something being kept from me.” His voice made Hermione go cold for a moment, afraid she made a grave error in her delivery of it. “I sat around this house, waiting for the ball to drop after Ginny refused to go home. I knew you three were consorting and planning without me.”
Harry came to stand next to Hermione. “Ron, we only found out late last night.”
This did not help.
“Why didn’t you tell me!” He screamed, eyes boring into Hermione’s. “I was in the house, I was waiting for someone to clue me in on the plan for meeting Snape! Did you forget about me?”
“Ron,” she started carefully, “you’ve been going about the house in a mood since Tonks’ surprise check in. Any planning sessions we’ve had, you declined coming to. We asked you several times–” He cut her off.
Throwing his hands up, he raged. “Draco Malfoy? Draco sodding Malfoy? The coward whose daddy is so far up You-Know-Who’s arse he might as well have built a second manor there? That is the so-called trusted informant you’ve created a secure connection with? Nothing about that slimy git is trustworthy!”
“It doesn’t matter what you think of him!” She yelled back. “What matters is he’s willing to be an inside informant for us, willing to put his neck and his family on the line to help us! Does that scream ‘I’m a bloody coward’ to you, Ronald? Does it mean nothing to you that Draco sodding Malfoy, son of a prolific Death Eater, is willing to put aside his beliefs on blood purity to help Harry sodding Potter? The one person besides me he actively hated in the student body of Hogwarts? Your childhood school rival is willing to put aside whatever feelings he has about you to help your best friend. Is it enough? Is that good enough for you, Ronald Weasley? Does it meet your standards, or will you refuse to help your best friend the way Malfoy is?”
The red-headed boy seemed to cave in on himself and his argument. He looked between his best friend, her, and his sister, the three of them forming a solid wall of opinion. Whatever conversation he was having with himself, whatever side of his mental chessboard he was playing, it seemed to be hard to answer. But he did.
“I want him bound and wandless, or I will leave and take Ginny with me.”