The Art of War

“Engage people with what they expect; it is what they are able to discern and confirms their projections. It settles them into predictable patterns of response, occupying their minds while you wait for the extraordinary moment — that which they cannot anticipate.”
Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Three days he gave her, handling other matters. He might have received clearance to set his plan in motion, but that hadn't changed his reality. Miss Hamilton still needed an escort to the Americas, the Dark Lord still demanded priority of every and any which command he gave, and though he had undoubtedly stoked the flames of her ire, it had been necessary.

His study almost felt foreign with how long it had taken him to return to it. Most things seemed in their place, not that it mattered. She could upheave every room of his wing, it would go back to how it had been. It'd been quite the source of frustration in his youth. There was something unspoken as to the lengths of anguish and aggravation Black magic in the female line could prove to be.

Taking deep breaths, he sat at his desk and collected his thoughts.

While Malfoy was gone, she had eaten quite a bit more. The fear of him tampering with her food wasn't there when he was out of the house. Rather than venturing out of her room, she stayed in. She'd asked for parchment and a quill and had been taking detailed notes of what she was reading in that book. She read through it all twice already. Tried to comfort herself with the Tales of Beedle the Bard.

She was getting restless, finally. And so after another shower where she had scrubbed herself clean and used the potions that had been set out for her hair, she collected her notes, the quill and ink well, and that book after getting dressed and returned back to that study.

Though as soon as she saw Malfoy there, she paused, her hand tightening on the tome. The brunette was dressed in a pair of leggings and a cream-colored sweater dress that had been in the closet. It was comfortable and cozy, and she had been surprised to see any lighter colors in the damn closet. The dress also helped hide just how thin she still was. Though all of the food she'd been eating the last few days would likely help with that.

The look she gave him was one filled with such hatred that it had a heat all of its own before she crossed over to the same couch she had been in before. She tucked her legs under herself and flipped the book back open, jotting down more notes on her piece of parchment.

He hadn't heard her so much as felt her. In part due to the wards, but the very fire of her gaze threatened to consume him if he turned to look, so he didn't bother. Instead, he pulled another silver tendril from his temple and bottled it. Memories to study at a later date.

"If you feel up to it, I'm certain Lauren would appreciate a kindred spirit in the library," he called, still refusing to look at her. It was merely practice for what was to come, and if he had to guide her in the right direction, then so be it.

"So I can help your research for You-Know-Who?" She asked, her voice cold and distant. Detached in a way. Her anger did nothing. He didn't so much as care, and he just wanted to possess her. To break her side down by her switching sides. It was what she was convincing herself of. Especially as she read more about these expectations between couples.

Turning a page, she wrinkled her nose a little bit more. "Does every pureblood marriage arrangement come with blood magic?" It was asked just as detached as the previous question, not offering him any emotion other than that glare.

He turned to look at her. At least she had made an effort. It was a start. "It's the most effective." It was a simple fact. "Quick, painless, binding. Much less messy than soul and bone," he walked his memory over to his cabinet.

"I was thinking more of offering the scholar a reprieve and introducing you to a new part of the manor, but you're right," he taunted her. "Not everything is a nefarious invitation."

"Such mistrust even among other purebloods," she muttered with a shake of her head. Her parents had honored their vows without anything binding them other than their affection for each other. But she supposed if all marriages were of convenience or arrangements, she shouldn't be surprised. "Your lot has always been a bloodthirsty and power-hungry sort, haven't they? Can't say I'm surprised. Wonder how long negotiations happened between the Blacks and the Malfoys."

It was an offhand comment. She could remember that detailed family tree that had been on the walls of the House of Black. Was it still empty or had the Death Eaters reclaimed it after she accidentally showed it to a Death Eater? She didn't know. And it wasn't something she dared to ask.

Snapping closed the book that he had given her to read over, she glanced over at him with narrowed eyes, still not rising to the bait. Her voice stayed cold rather than heated or angry. "Fine. The library, then."

Someday, she would understand. How the amount of gold in his vaults was enough to make any sane person happily fork over any and all morality. Granger was different, though, and of the many vices he had noted in her, he doubted that would be the thing to make her snap.

"That negotiation lasted most of their Hogwarts years. Father was older, so the years after his schooling were most painful from what I understand." Lucius had gone to great lengths to win his mother's hand. "And they were lucky," he admitted. "They genuinely had feelings for each other. At least at first," he shrugged. Life hadn't exactly been as expected for anyone.

"Long negotiation process. So, about as long as we've been trying to kill each other." Interesting. Though there was a spark of surprise that the two of them had had feelings for each other at all before the engagement. That didn't seem normal. Or at least typical for purebloods. "Lucky," she mulled that over with a slight snort.

Her parents had loved each other and still did if they were still safely where she put them. She wouldn't dare try to check. Ever. That could easily be used against her. The list of people she cared about kept getting smaller and smaller. No need to give them anything else to work with.

Draco watched that detachment, the way she casually spoke about his parents. He knew she'd been exposed to the oh so noble House Black. "Is it so hard for you to believe parents, even the likes of my own, would want the best for their children?" he demanded.

Certainly, he had always known his marital life would be transactional. "The Ministry hasn't been stocked as it is based on elections," he reminded cooly. "It was corrupt long before all of this, long before us." He didn't often mention his disillusionment to it all. He doubted anyone would even believe he could feel anything but awe and pride for what he did.

He paused beside her, offering her his arm. "Best if you stay close."

"I can stay close without touching you, Malfoy." Carefully unfolding from the couch, she stood up and tucked that book under the arm nearest to him, pointedly avoiding his arm.

"You'll have to forgive my disbelief, considering the state I found you in the last time you left my wing," he pressed.

Hermione actually looked right at him, raising a brow slightly. "If the best is more a social climb than what's best for them emotionally or otherwise? Yes. Incredibly hard to believe," she offered as a contrast, running one hand through her more neat brown hair. How long had it been since her hair had been so straight and lacking frizz? Ages. Felt like a lifetime ago.

"I realize the Ministry was corrupt before us. I'm not a child," she muttered with a small spark of irritation before it was gone, trying to keep everything off of her face. Everything buried.

The witch rolled her eyes and gave him a rather unamused look as she stared him down. "Do you actually want an explanation to that? Or are you going to try and insist I take your arm so we can pretend I don't hate being here and that I can actually stand your company?"

She didn't want to touch him. Her traitorous body always seemed to want to be closer to him when she did.

"I don't need an explanation, Granger. I'm not one of your halfwit friends," he pointed out. Perhaps it was too soon, considering he'd killed one in public. It felt like a lifetime ago, and yet, it hadn't been that long.

Pausing at the doors, he looked at her sternly. "I knew you were a quick study," he gave in lieu of praise.

Pain flickered through her at that. The blood running from Ronald's neck in her mind. But she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, held it for two seconds, and slowly exhaled. "That is abundantly clear that you aren't them."

What had they told Harry about her disappearance? The note she sent him last would likely be the last note he got from her. And she didn't even get to say goodbye. Apparently, she never got to say goodbye.

"I haven't agreed to a damn thing, so I'm not going to be on your damn arm." She closed the space between them as he stood in at the doors, just waiting for him to lead the way to the library.

He gripped above her elbow. "Yet," he kept her close. "I take no pleasure in this," he offered an expression that from afar could easily be misconstrued as doting or even pleasant.

Leading her down the hall, he ignored the greetings and shows of allegiance by his subordinates as he kept the girl close. After his punishment of the six that had attempted to defile her, no one dared linger their gaze on her longer than for recognition. Good. The thought coiled in him like a snake.

"Liar," she accused with a hiss, resisting the urge to tug away from him on the pure force of will alone. The looks she gave Malfoy's subordinates were even colder than how she had looked at Malfoy. Dismissive. As if all of them were beneath her. Not knowing that played incredibly well into what he would have wanted for her.

Keeping pace with him was easy enough. The only show of her outward discomfort was her free arm wrapped around herself. Like she was trying to hold herself together from the outside in.

It was a corridor and a grand staircase before they were before the double doors to the library his home held. Part of him had wanted to keep her away from it, as if he could maintain a shred of his past intact, but that wasn't possible for him.

With the tip of his wand, he beckoned the French doors open, allowing her into the very heart of his home. It had always been his favorite, and when he'd taken charge after his father's time in Azkaban, he'd poured the little left of him into this place. Collecting tomes and filling the stacks. Two rooms had been repurposed for the expansion. It nearly put Hogwarts' original library to shame.

"Lauren's probably at one of the desks," he offered in a peace offering of sorts. "I should be back in time for tea."

As soon as the doors opened, something in Hermione eased a little bit. Her shoulders relaxed, that arm fell away from around her body, and her grip on the tome she had been taking notes on loosened. There was a spark of something in her eyes for a moment. Not hatred or anger or loathing, but something brighter. Books. She had missed books. Libraries and a wealth of information are just a page turn away. The books she had in her bags had been read so many times over.

If anyone ever cared to win her favor back with the insurgency, they'd bring her a book in the hopes that it was one she hadn't read. It was rare. But Viktor, Ron, Oliver, Neville, Luna, and Harry had all managed it at least once. She took a few steps forward on her own, her gaze sweeping the shelves as tried to figure out where to start. He wanted her to research, but how could she possibly ignore everything that was here?

"Take your time," she drawled, but it didn't contain as much hatred as it had a moment ago. Actually, meaning this for a nonhostile reason. She wanted as much time in this larger library as the one that was in his wing. She didn't look back at him as she strode inside, wanting to find where Lauren was and see what she'd learned so far. Then she'd figure out what books to grab. If she'd be helpful or self-indulgent.

There it was, the lack of bite or venom. There weren't many witches - or wizards, for that matter - that enjoyed knowledge quite as much. He'd found refuge in these stacks many times over. He knew the look in her eyes. Not lingering, he turned on his heel to deal with the latest issues at hand.

A few stacks away, tucked in an alcove of a study area, Lauren poured over a number of texts, jotting notes on her notepad. "Just leave the tea there," she motioned with a swatting motion, not bothering to look at whoever or whatever had come to interrupt her. Time was easily told by the cup of tea or small meal that was brought to her. Hadn't she just had finger sandwiches? She tried not to overthink it.

As Hermione strode through the stacks, she let her fingers trail along the spines. The old leather and smell of the books had her relaxing a little bit now. If she could wrap herself in that smell and just disappear into these books and not have to worry about anything else....she deserved that respite. That refuge. She wouldn't get it for long. And as she heard Lauren speak, she smiled faintly, the expression still not reaching her eyes.

"Afraid it isn't tea time," she muttered, tensing just a little. The woman was pouring herself over everything. It reminded her of herself when she was in Hogwarts. How many papers had she done excessive amounts of research for? "....Those artifacts help you figure anything out?"

Had her request from the American scholars actually yielded results for herself? There was no way to go to her PO box now to get it. And the wizards she had worked with didn't really get the whole idea of a PO box. Nor did they have her key. It gave her a cruel satisfaction that they were going to fall behind. That Diggory would. Even if that meant Harry was hidden and kept away for so much longer.

That voice, she recognized it. It had chills down her back and reminded her of their last encounter. Swallowing down, she shifted her papers and adjusted her position.

“M-Morrie,” she greeted, trying to find her tongue in all of this. “I think,” she said. “I’ve been trying to calculate the next celestial event to make sense of it, which has not been received well,” she winced. Nothing had happened to her. Yet.

“Translating archaic languages our ancestors did their best to destroy also not an ideal predicament…” she continued.

Lauren’s features were a little more dull. As well put together as she appeared, closer inspection showed the darkened circles, the worry lines digging into her features. Her lower lip was raw from biting it.

A sigh left her lips. "...Hermione, actually," she offered as she wrapped her arms back around herself as she looked at the woman before looking at the desk before her. "....He does tend to like rapid results," she muttered with a grimace, unconsciously rubbing at her forearm, able to feel the scars under the sleeve.

"...Latin or something older?" She asked without really thinking about it. Ancient runes had been a class she had so adored in school. And she had taken the time to learn different languages to try and translate texts during the war. Ever the scholar. Even when she was pushed to her limits.

As she studied the other woman, there was an almost sympathetic expression on her face. "....I did try to warn you," she sighed, though there was no bite to it as she made a shooing motion with her hand. "Move over. Tell me what you found...I'll see what I can do."

The irony of the statement. He could refer to so many. Even now, she could think of a handful that fit the impatience description. “Well, Hermione,” she tried the name out. “I’ve been an expert in my field. You’ll have to forgive my hubris as I now realize how little I actually know.”

Everything she had believed to be true had hinged on science and knowledge. Then overnight everything had become a new fact to unpack and reassess. Things she had discounted now weighed more than they had.

“This makes Latin modern,” she tried not to laugh. “Part ideographic, part sacred geometry,” she felt like a charlatan by her own growing vernacular.

When the brunette seemed willing to help she didn’t make a motion to stop her. “If my translation here stands, we’re looking more of a transference like these were channels for magic. Large conduits for BIG events.”

"Easily forgiven. Had to lose my own hubris about seven years ago," she murmured with a grimace, still rubbing at her arm with mild irritation before she pulled up a chair and moved to sit alongside the other woman, tucking her hair out of her face as she looked over the texts, a hint of a smile curving her lips. The sacred geometry she could help with. Even some of the ideographic parts.

There was that thirst for knowledge and to be the best starting to rise back up in her as she reached for a quill, almost laughing as she saw the pens there. Well....that made sense. When she first started at Hogwarts, there had been a learning curve with quills. But she took a pencil and carefully wrote down a few notes, tapping next to one symbol as she studied it and then flipped open one of the other books on the desk.

Focus was easy. Even when she felt a cat winding between her legs under her. Crookshanks wouldn't be a distraction. She chewed lightly at her bottom lip as she looked over it. "Transference or something like exchange. Not just a giving but a taking. And something about ley lines. Not just channels but nodes...." she breathed, taking the time to read through the other woman's notes and the books that were there on the desk.

“The nodes are like the needles of a clock if it dictated the very workings of the planets. Each one represents a moon, a solstice…” she supplied the lengths of paper she had written on, referencing to books that she had jotted pages down for.

“It used to be believed that these sites were sacred altars for sacrifices,” she explained. “Any scholarly account is either tainted by the lens of the speaker casting judgement or honestly what I’d call a sensationalist story at best to impress some boudoir.”

Lauren paused. She wasn’t sure how much she could trust the Brunette but after weeks of being isolated from anyone willing to listen without an agenda, she needed her. “I thought I’d find more here, but the truth is, I don’t think either side wanted the knowledge shared. I’ve been through these shelves. There’s loads about conduits: wands, staffs, amulets. But there is no origin story. What if this dates back to the beginnings of magic?”

Nodes made sense. When she had looked at Muggle texts and compared them to some of the texts that had been at Hogwarts? She had seen some overlap in some of their stories. A past that likely Muggle nor Wizard had wanted anyone to remember. But there were better records of old druidic magic that were in those halls. And she could remember some of the book titles.

Grabbing a piece of paper, she started writing down a few titles of the books that she could remember off of the top of her head. And hoped they were right. There were likely some title discrepancies, but they would be invaluable to trying to figure it all out. "Wizards and their secrecy and Muggles and their superstitions," she grumbled with a shake of her head, chewing lightly at her bottom lip.

Part of her hated how easy it was for her to fall back into this. This was likely exactly what Malfoy hoped would happen. He opened a door back to her past to where she had excelled in research and theory and picking things apart, and she fell into it readily. Eagerly. Damn him to hell and back. "Wand lore is slightly more modern. As far as wizards are concerned, it's ancient, but it's not. I took far too long hearing about it from wand crafters, like the one that made my wand," she murmured, thinking aloud as well as sharing a little bit with the woman. What was the harm after all?

"This library is going to be more limited. Speaking more to magics as high borns would want it. But I think a lot of our answers are going to fall into old druidic and hedge magic. Maybe from a few squibs....or even muggleborns..." she mused before she jotted down a few ideas, tapping the pencil against the desk.

Secrecy was something she was accustomed to by now. If any active part in this participated in their own right, she couldn’t blame them. Her own curiosity had brought her this far.

“Can’t say I’d know the difference, but he’s been good about getting me most things. Except the internet,” she sighed.

Hermione actually laughed, a surprised sound that had her shaking her head. "You're lucky that they have proper lighting. Wizards seem to like staying as close to the Dark Ages as possible....couldn't even get a calculator to work on the school grounds," she murmured.

There were so many muggle-borns, and Harry, who had seemed so confused by the idea that technology didn't work on Hogwarts campus. She missed that school. The hollowed halls that had taught her so much. But that was a lifetime ago. "....But I'd know the difference. Glad he got you what you needed, though...And you haven't been harmed?" She asked the last part a lot more quietly with a bit of genuine concern. Even if she had been about to take the artifacts and get the young woman hurt, that didn't mean that she wanted to see her hurt.

At that, Lauren shook her head. “No harm,” she assured. “He stopped leaving his men in here a while back. They were distracting more than anything. One of them would just…stare. Millicent helped for a while, but…” she wasn’t sure how to put it nicely. “After meeting elves, I feel I’d probably have to apologize to trolls…”

Grimacing at the name, she remembered that particular woman. "You don't have to describe Millicent. We went to school together," she muttered with a wrinkle of her nose before she glanced over the work a bit more. It was far too easy to pull her into research. Her curiosity was going to be the death of her.

Falling into a pace of research and commentary became rather easy. Reminiscent of simpler days. Though Malfoy, and his entourage had tried to assist her in her queries, they hadn't come close to the assistance the woman, was providing.

"I do like these refillable teapots," she looked over the desk for where she had last spotted the item. Even technology hadn't managed perfectly hot tea that never seemed to end.

"Magic has its uses. Never got to use it at home, though," she said offhand as she worked, glancing over at the pot. A cup sounded amazing right now, but she wanted to get as much done as she could before it was actually tea time, and Malfoy came in to look smug as hell.

That was surprising for the ginger. “Never?” She asked. “But you’re a witch,” the confusion was clear on her face. How could one simultaneously have magic and yet not in the same stroke?

A small, sad smile curved her lips as she shrugged. "Parents are both Muggles. Grew up as one till I was eleven, then went to school. Though they did have signs I wasn't normal," she stated with a small note of amusement as she wrote down a few more notes on her paper but then had a separate list of books she thought might be helpful.

Muggles was such an odd word, but she had learned it. Been called it enough in her stay. "I see," she noted, unsure what to say. It was awkward, and yet it made perfect sense. She imagined it would be scary for a parent to know their child could do just about anything with the help of a stick.

A sigh left her lips. "They were very supportive. Didn't understand it. But were very proud. Tried to learn as much as they could.....but no underage magic in Muggle homes," she said with a shrug as she leaned back in her chair with a sigh, considering a moment.

If she did too much more she would be offering far too much help. She hadn't agreed to anything. She shouldn't be helping. A sigh left her lips as she moved to stand up, stretching slowly.

"Magic is...traceable," she asked. She hadn't meant to shift a meaningful conversation. "Is there a time limit frame..." she tapped her temple, trying to recall one of the more diagnostic-type tomes she'd discounted because it really didn't help her, but that didn't mean it couldn't help others.

"Sorry, I tend to eat, sleep, and breathe my research," the woman paused. "Sounds like you were at a disadvantage from the start. Now that magic is...out there, I doubt you'd have had to hide it at home," she wondered how that might have changed things for a witch like Hermione.

A sigh left her lips. "Every witch or wizard has a trace on them till they come of age. But it just tells that magic has been cast. Not who cast it." She said with a slight wave of her hand. Casting in a wizarding home would have been fine. She had a disadvantage compared to those growing up in wizard families and homes.

"You're fine. There was once a time I ate, slept, breathed research and school," she sighed before she chuckled, giving a small bit of a smile. "Even with that 'disadvantage,' I still had top marks. I beat everyone in my year." She explained. But she shrugged her shoulders. ".....my parents aren't around anymore," she said with a shrug before she turned to walk through the stacks to find herself something to read.

Every piece of information seemed to blossom into more. It had Lauren close her books and set her biro down. "I knew I had a good feeling about you," she smiled at the grades thing. "I'd say it's never too late to go back, but it might be overrated," she ran a hand through her red hair and sat back with her cup of tea.

"I keep hoping some book in here will hide a bottle of cognac or something obnoxiously expensive and strong," she smirked. She didn't know how to really handle loss. She'd lost her dad when she'd been a child. When the woman had used the past tense, she hadn't even questioned it.

"Not sure if magical schooling is overrated," she called from another row of bookshelves. But she didn't even remember what it was she wanted to do with continued education anymore. Challenging magical law? Something she could do with enough backing and influence....No. She was not going to let herself be tempted by that potential.

Was Malfoy the kind to hide cognac in a book? Probably not. But she could use more firewhiskey. She needed more of it to get through trying to plan all of this. Trying to figure it all out. "If you ask him, I'm sure he'd get something. Especially if you're close to a breakthrough."

"There's advanced magical schooling...of course, there's advanced magical schooling. Why would Oxford be special..." She was starting to hold disdain for her alma mater.

She'd considered it a few times, but then there'd been that black-haired wizard who liked to stare. "I suppose I could," she acknowledged, sipping on her tea instead, idly petting the large ginger cat that had decided to display himself over her notes as he tended to do.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw her cat there, and a sigh left her lips. "....I'm glad my cat has been keeping you company. He did the same for me in school." She didn't hate this woman. She just hated that it was helping You Know Who. Voldemort.

Rather than answering about school, not wanting to open that door any further, she read over the titles on the spines of a few books. Her fingers delicately traced them, the charms on her bracelet clinking together. How long had she been pouring over those books with Lauren? She'd have to tell Malfoy about what books they needed. Those names wouldn't have come up here for her. Which proved she helped.

Holding back a groan, she rubbed at her temples, hearing her cat let out a disgruntled noise.

"Do you want to be pet or not, Mister," Lauren laughed at the playful swat she received, only to have her hand seized. She shook her head and let him keep his little control for a moment longer before gently prying herself out of his grasp.

She looked to Hermione. "I was surprised to see a cat here...he doesn't exactly...fit in," she admitted. In a house of velvet and silk with peacocks of all things running amok in the garden, a large, grumpy old ginger cat hadn't exactly been on her list of expectations.

"He never knows," Hermione murmured with a small smile as she plucked a few books off of the shelf for herself. A few on ancient magics and runes that she had been studying in Hogwarts before everything happened. Might as well have a few things to enjoy reading. To keep herself busy. "He doesn't fit here.....Malfoy kidnapped him," she grumbled as she turned back around to go to the desk.

Leaning down, she scratched under the orange cat's chin and smiled a little bit more, her expression softening as the orange cat headbutted her cheek. Such a needy thing. She kept petting under his chin, keeping eye contact with him. "Much better than the damn peacock," she muttered.

Before she could say much more, the doors opened again, but the blond she'd become familiar with wasn't the one making his way through. A tall, dark man walked through. His curly hair short with crisp lines. There was a strut to his walk as he made his way forward, a warmth to him that Lauren didn't quite trust.

"Lauren, Hermione," Blaise greeted. "Draco asked me to see that you both have proper tea, and anything else you might require. It seems his...engagements for the day have taken longer than anticipated."

As soon as the doors opened, she glanced over towards the man who came in and frowned. Her eyes narrowed. "Zabini. Didn't realize we were on a first-name basis," she drawled, voice colder immediately. Asked. Hardly. If Draco asked for anything at all, she would be shocked.

"Course they have," she shook her head before she scooped back up the book that Draco had given her to read along with the list of books on the parchment. Looking them over again, she passed them over to him before she went to find another desk to sit at, speaking over her shoulder. "If he wants further progress on that research without the Americans, those books should suffice. I know they're at Hogwarts, but they could likely be acquired elsewhere."

Whatever warmth she had started to show, Lauren was gone as soon as there was someone else around. Crookshanks let out another 'mreow' sound before hopping off the desk, trotting over to Hermione, and laid out over her books completely. "....You are a spoiled brat, Crookshanks...."

Blaise didn't lose his countenance at her jab. Instead, he decided to remain as pleasant as was humanly possible. "No need to curse the messenger," he smiled as she neared him. He pocketed the list and nodded. So it would be done.

"I'll get the list over and let you ladies pack up. I'll be back, and we can continue this heartwarming reunion over food," he offered.

"Can't exactly curse the messenger at the moment, can I, Zabini?" She grumbled. Wishing that she could. But she glanced over at him, raising a brow. Reunion. Probably not. But she supposed she needed to eat.

Ruffling out her hair she pet her cat, scratching under his chin and behind his ears. "Sure." She stated in a cold detachment again.