The Art of War

“Opportunities multiply as they are seized.”
Sun Tzu, The Art of War

It wasn’t often that Draco was served conflicting directions. On the one hand, he was told in no uncertain terms to let Pucey lead his mission on his own. On the other hand, his directives were clear: kill Hermione Granger by any means necessary.

And so he had crossed the line in his seek to conquer and destroy. Pucey was the last of his worries, an annoying gnat confusing a torchlight with the bloody sun. Whatever came of his mission was his own, even if it conflicted with his work. He had needed to get her in a position that suited him. He wouldn’t let some greedy rank climbing git steal that from him.

The safe house was in chaos. Wards were dropped so people could apparate out. Wood led a few out by broom. People were frantically trying to either take intel with them or destroyed it. Better lost to them than in the hands of the enemy.

Hermione had her things, the two bags to her name with those extension spell on them. She cut down a few of the Death Eaters, but hadn't seen Pucey. Either he was orchestrating from a far or a wad actually listening to what Draco said and making sure he was no where near her. There was one thing she didn't have though: Crookshanks.

Luna was already gone and she was trying not to panic. A few of the others were trying to get her to leave.

Cutting down another Death Eater ruthlessly, she shook her head. "I'm not leaving without my damn cat. He's made it this long."

She snapped as she darted down a hall, looking for the grumpy ball of orange fur.

Draco kept his side of the mirror close, all while keeping outside the perimeter. Pucey didn’t need to be seen as incompetent, though that was debatable to the blond.

He just had to keep tabs on her. Follow that connection. Leaning against the side of an old half-destroyed church, he kept his sights on the glass. At least until her words distracted him. She was refusing to leave over an animal of all things? Stupid witch, he seethed internally, marching towards the fray and pausing.

Down the alleyway, he noticed a tuft of orange fur. He had known the feline from his school days. It was surprising, even for him, to know the creature was still alive.

Crouching down he stretched a hand out. “Come on,” he beckoned it. “Don’t you want to see Granger?”

This was a new low, even by his standards. The cat’s whiskers twitched, sniffing the air before cautiously padding over.

“That’s it,” he spoke praisingly. “Come here, Crookshanks,” he said his name. “I’ll take you home.” He hoped she fucking heard him, the same way he hoped the cat would fall for it.

Eventually, it ran towards him, belly swishing from side to side before pounding its large head against Draco’s hand. He could definitely see a resemblance to his owner. Head first. Before he could hesitate, he gripped the cat's scruff, earning a feral growl and attempted slashes as he tucked the cat in his cloak.

“Just cooperate, damn you…” he hissed, disapparating with a crack so he could contain the cat. He couldn’t just go home. Not with that collar, likely having a tracker. No, even destroyed the church had rooms he could use.

Slipping out of the building and darting down the stairs, she looked around, cursing under her breath before she hit another Death Eater with the killing curse. Was that Pucey? She didn't care. What she cared about was the one thing that she had been able to keep with her all through this. Any safe house she went to, Crookshanks was there with his collar. After leaving him behind the first go around, she wasn't doing it again.

Though with how old the cat was now, she was more convinced now that he actually was part magical creature. The only way he could be this old since he wasn't young when she got him.

Then she heard his voice in her pocket. "Malfoy, if you fucking touch my cat," she hissed and carefully used that tracking spell. Feeling where they were for a moment. She heard that growl, and her heart felt like it stopped. Dear Merlin, don't let Draco Malfoy hurt her damn cat.

After all the things he had done, hurting her cat wouldn't even be the tip of the iceberg for the atrocities. And yet, that was what she feared at that moment as she took off down the alley just in time to see them disappear.

"Shit...." She cursed and pulled that stupid mirror out of her pocket, wrapping it with multiple layers of clothes to muffle the sounds on it. "I'm going to fucking kill him," she seethed before she took in a breath, using that tracking spell on her cat's collar to follow after, disapparating once she made sure her bags were secure so she could follow that feeling of location. They weren't far.

Even if it was a trap, she wasn't letting that bastard hurt her cat.

Draco had had quite the ordeal separating cat from the neckband. Just getting the orange ball of fury to chill out had been more stunning spells than he was willing to admit.

“Just like your owner,” he sighed, slipping the collar in a dampening box before picking up the cat.

Anyone seeing him holding that monstrosity might have expected the worst with how limp it lay in his arms, heavy tongue out from being subdued. Beneath his robes, Draco could still feel the sting of claws at his neck and shoulder.

Appearing in the church, she left the chapel and moved through the hall, blowing doors open, seething in rage. "If you harmed one fucking hair on his head, Malfoy, I will stun you and skin you alive," She shouted into the church.

Perhaps she was a little unhinged for a moment, but there were few things in this world that were hers anymore. Crookshanks was one of them. He'd been there through everything. He discovered that Scabbers wasn't Scabbers. He had brought her comfort, had seen all of her friends, and had been a brilliant companion. Fear was locked around her heart as she blew open yet another door.

Draco could hear her as she blasted through the area. He shifted the cat to settle him over his shoulder like a sac of potatoes.

“Promises, promises,” he called. He needed to distract her just a while longer. Keep her out before Pucey deployed his final strike.“I think I’ll keep him…” He stoked the fire.

Hermione wanted to wrap her arms around that smug neck as she took in a deep breath and simply used a spell that blew all of the doors open and then stormed down the hall, glancing into each one.

"Over my dead and rotting corpse, Malfoy." She called with such venom in her voice that if voicings and looks could kill, he'd have been dead ten times over.

“You speak so sweetly,” he called back. “Does that mean you want him buried with you when I kill you?” He demanded, wand projecting his voice in angular ricochets to keep her on her toes. He couldn’t have her face him just yet. With the large feline, he was at a disadvantage for movement, though its body over his heart was a shield if any.

If he was projecting his voice, he could be at the very back where a Vicar would stay. But she wasn't convinced. It had her looking into every room as she glowered. "You haven't managed yet, and you aren't going to manage it, Malfoy. This ends with my hands around your throat. Leave my cat alone, and I'll make it quick."

Lies. She could taste it on her tongue. There was no way in hell that after he threatened her cat, she'd make it quick and painless for him. He needed to pay. For everything.

“You were never a good liar,” he accused, keeping on the move. He needed to both enrage and delay her. He was successful in one of those things so far. “Your cat? Mm, mmmm pretty sure he’s my cat,” he goaded her. It wouldn’t be much longer before there would be that explosion. He just had to time it.

"Debatable," she called into the church. Did any of these rooms attach to each other? She peered into one of them more thoroughly and saw that there were, in fact, a few rooms with adjoining doors. Damn it.

"My cat, Malfoy...I swear...if you fucking hurt him," she snarled, but there was pain under all that anger. A desperation she didn't want to feel. He'd do it. She knew he would. The man had no honor, no morals, and no loyalty to the most twisted of things.

Draco Malfoy had never wanted a cat. Yet there he was clutching one, claiming as though this was precisely what he desired.

“You nearly got him killed. No wonder he came running to me,” he accused through the dilapidated remnants of muggle belief. The muggles had ransacked most churches and places of worship, the lack of the secrecy statute bringing down many believers when faced with reality.

"He's nearly gotten me killed a few times. We're even." She snapped, though guilt gnawed at her. She should have found him somewhere he was safe. But she was selfish. Selfishly clinging to the few things she had left that reminded her of a home in the first place.

Draco’s derisive scoff rang against the walls. “If you say so…”

Taking in a deep breath, she stood in the hallway and carefully listened. "Draco Hyperion Malfoy. Give me back my damn cat!"

Draco felt a tingling in his spine as she spoke his full name. How delicious it sounded on her lips. “No,” he responded callously.

Even with him projecting his voice, she could hear where it was coming from now. Turning her head, she cast a spell to silence her steps and projected her own voice as she approached. "You're going to regret saying that."

Draco couldn’t hear her anymore beyond her nearing voice. It was as uncanny as a gaze in a foe glass as she turned the corner. He could feel her, how close she was. It had him stretch out with magic, hunting her until he held her.

It grazed her body, slithering like a snake until she'd feel like a hand at her throat, squeezing in a soft crescendo to exert the very air from her lungs.

Her eyes widened as she saw her cat in his arms, only to feel that hand close around her throat. A trap. Just as she thought, her heart hammered in her chest as that hand squeezed her throat, making her gasp, trying to get more air in.

As if he'd planned it himself, he heard the sound he’d been waiting for. “That's my cue,” he claimed before disapparating with a viciously loud crack.

The sound of the explosion had her heart thundering in her ears, and as he released her and disappeared, she felt her heart crack a little at the loss of her cat. Her body trembled in rage before she raced back to the church's front door, taking the steps down quickly and stopping in the alleyway just as she saw the Dark Mark being projected over what was left of the safe house.

There had been no saving it. They knew that when they had been overwhelmed by Death Eaters. Rage colored her vision. Pucey was standing there. Before she could even think, she cast a Killing Curse before disapparating. Check-in would be in a few hours, and they wouldn't know who was dead until then. At least she knew she had taken out at least four threats during that attack. Malfoy would be next.