The Art of War

“Doubled agents are enemy spies whom we employ. When the enemy sends spies to pry into my accomplishments or lack of them, I bribe them lavishly, turn them around, and make them my agents.”
Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Sitting at the table, Hermione sipped at a cup of tea as she looked over the parchment and waited for Luna to be brought to her. The necklace was around her neck again, the ring on her finger, and she was hoping that Narcissa and Lucius wouldn't venture to this part of the manor without their son here for the time being. She also had another vial of potion to keep from anything happening. Couldn't be too careful with Narcissa wanting things to happen her way.

Her stomach kept twisting and turning into knots. There was such stark contrast to the man who had delighted in hearing her moan and cry out and the man that had so casually tortured his friends because it suited his needs. Did he take joy in it? Revel in it as he reveled in what he was doing to her? She didn't know. And it felt like her morals were going to have to shift again, more drastically than the last time they shifted.

Neither side was better than the other, and yet she had convinced herself that she was doing a better job because she was trying to help people. How well did that stand up to close observation with the way that Muggles had died during the first onslaught of them seeking Muggle aid? If she wavered here, then she'd die, and so would he. Who knew who else in his household would meet an unfortunate end? There were too many unknowns. Too many things she didn't understand about him. Anytime she asked, it was the same song and dance: Marry me first.

She fiddled with the pendant on the end of the necklace as she waited, pouring herself another pot of tea. She missed her damn wand. After years of using her magic as often as she wanted, for survival as well as for what conveniences she could get, she had taken it for granted. Once she had it back, she wouldn't take it for granted again. Thinking of her wand brought another thought forward. One that hadn't sat straight. What did it mean that their cores were so similar that the jeweler had commented on it?

A few floors below the manor, Luna concealed herself in black robes after slipping into a pair of lacy patterned tights and a black dress. The velvet purple shoes she wore and sugar skulls dangling from her ears were the only seeming resistance to the aesthetic of the manor.

“I’ll be fine,” she promised him at the door, cupping his cheeks. “This is better than the last time.” Her airy voice held the promise of a smile. This had to be better than the last time. She wasn’t going to let this opportunity ruin it.

Leaving Blaise behind, she entered the room in a steady set of clicks, meeting her friend for what she told herself wouldn't be the last time. “Hi,” she greeted pleasantly, the glow she usually wore not quite as bright as usual.

Though they’d known each other for a decade, even she knew this was new territory. They were friends. Nearly been enemies, and though brunch had the makings of a last meal, she pushed forward. “Can’t remember the last time I ate at a table like this,” she admitted, pausing near her chair. They were alone. Did they embrace? Did she follow the same pecking order her lover did?

As she scribbled out a note or two, she glanced back over the vows and knew she'd have to finish them sooner rather than later. She just wanted to make sure she got the phrasing right. After the display in the study, how amicable he was to her demands had to be a trap or something....didn't it?

Years of trusting her instincts and her logic told her that something was going on here. Something more than she could see. But what was it?

"It is an adjustment. Not an unpleasant one though...." she offered and paused for just a moment. Fuck it. She wasn't lady of the manor yet, and no one was around. She got up and hugged Luna, squeezing her gently before moving back and gesturing for her to take a seat as she took her own.

She'd be formal and distant when she had to be, but she wasn't about to before it was required. "I'd have asked to see you again sooner, but preparing for things has been more hectic than I might have imagined." She wouldn't ask how Zabini was. Or Nott. Would she be expected to be just as ruthless with the pair as her future husband was?

After the initial shock, Luna embraced her friend, keeping her in tight against her chest for just a moment longer before stepping back. At the motion, she took a seat, trying not to squirm. Normally Blaise did wonderfully healing every bruise and welt, but they were needed, and the more he left, the less the others would have to leave to compensate. It had become normal.

“I’m glad we can,” she offered in that hazy tone, a smile that held warmth despite her exhaustion. “How are those going along? You have a date in mind?” She smirked and hated herself for asking.

Hermione tried not to grimace at that and took another sip of tea. "They're coming along. Making sure that the phrasing is laid out just so." After coming up with a hex for signing papers in the fifth year, she'd think this would have been easy. No. It wasn't. Some were standard, the til death and fidelity clauses, and then the modified ones for communication and silence and honesty.

"I don't get many options on the date...Haven't even figured out a dress yet, and the engagement. Official announcement happens this weekend," she explained with a slight smile, trying to appear more calm about it than she felt.

It made sense that he was pushing her out. More Malfoys in the manor, the likelihood of another event that would leave her free to garner too much. Luna looked over at the parchment and just as quickly drew away the moment the word fidelity glared at her.

“Sounds like a lot.” It was honest. “Wish I could be there for you.” No matter the side, they seemed to have gravitated towards the other, and betrayals aside, a part of her still wanted to protect that friendship.

A small smile curved her lips at that as she glanced up at her. "If I could steal you to be my maid of honor, or at the very least one of my bridesmaids, I would do so in a heartbeat," she promised quietly before glancing back at the paper and writing out the one about her list in that vague verbiage again.

Maid of honor. It wasn’t something Luna would soon forget—a kindness she didn’t really deserve. Instead of dwelling, she reached for a glass of water and attempted to soothe her parched throat.

“Even if I wanted to, I…” How could she put it out there? She’d already given Hermione knowledge that she was likely being sent back soon. “I-I’m going back tonight. Hopefully, for the last time,” she twisted her hands in her lap. “Might be a while before we see each other again.” They were all going to hate her after this. Better hating her than any of them dead.

"You are much too useful gleaning information from them, though. And they're dumb enough to think you're simply getting lost," she rolled her eyes with a shake of her head before food was brought out. "Let them keep underestimating you. It works in your favor." Everyone's favor. But she'd slip two of these notes to her momentarily. They were vague notes simply telling two of her friends not to get involved and that she wasn't under the effects of a curse.

There was a sad edge to the smile on her face at that, and she reached over, offering the blonde her hand. "You're being very brave. Must be from all the Gryffindors you hung out with in school," she teased just a touch before she sighed. If Draco got one of her remaining best friends killed, she would find a way around this vow to hurt him.

Putting some of the food that appeared on her plate, her mouth started to water. This was starting to be something she was used to. No nearly expired rations. No bland food. All fresh and perfect. "Keep your head down, and once you're back, we'll have tea, and I'll see about a small dinner to celebrate. Get what information you can about Diggory and Wood, but avoid them if possible." Those two were hers. Draco thought he had a claim to harm Wood, but he was hers to deal with.

“Those who you want as a wedding present?” She asked almost dreamily. She had wanted to carve her anger into Diggory, but if setting them up for it relieved her of the proverbial Damocles Sword residing over her and Blaise’s head, then so be it.

"Absolutely." Luna might have been giving information to this side for years, and she had no clue how much intel had been given, but Diggory blatantly traded her to further his own ends because he hated Harry. Hated that Hermione was so good at her job but seemed to fail where he thought it mattered most.

“Consider it done,” she flashed a wicked smile. Over the years, something had broken inside of Luna. Something she didn’t quite care to fix. Diggory had set her up for this and it was only fair she repaid him in kind.

She’d made it out easily enough the last few times, and now, now, she felt more confident in her odds. It didn’t stop the knotting in her gut or the way a healthy dose of fear threatened to hollow her out, but who were they compared to the Wyvern? Who were they compared to the cruelty that saturated the very walls of Malfoy Manor?

“I could tell you the same,” she opted to respond instead. “Don’t get His attention more than you need to.” Even when spoken, the singular pronoun felt capitalized. Different from any other application of the common term.

Trying not to grimace at the idea of the Dark Lord paying attention to her, she looked down at her plate, able to see the scar on her forearm from the corner of her eyes. "I'll do my best. Luckily, He approves of the union." Say what was expected to a point. She'd likely have to praise his mercy or something at her nuptials, and it would make her want to carve her own skin off for playing nice.

“They’re going to ask…pry…” she warned. “What portrait of you do you want them to have?” Luna mostly moved her food around, not quite having the stomach for anything save a strawberry.

"You're the best, Luna." And she was. She had realized it, despite their bickering about creatures in school, when they had all fought in the Ministry together. Luna had kept Ron safe and been willing to do anything for her friends. Diggory didn't deserve that loyalty. If Zabini didn't realize how good he had it to have her trust, she'd hex him herself.

She sighed, starting to chase food around on her plate. Her stomach was starting to turn itself inside out with knots again. Countless people that she fought and maimed or murdered the family of would be under this roof in a matter of hours. "As close to the truth as possible. I felt limited and controlled under Diggory's leadership, was impressed by Malfoy, and seduced him. Throw in whatever ideas of spying they have. But if you think you can manage it, without getting caught or blowing your cover, I have two notes I want put in deaddrops—the older ones. People wouldn't even question how long they might have been there. What everyone else thinks doesn't matter. They'll see me how they wish to."

A traitor. An opportunist. Cursed. Controlled. Desperate. A coward. Of all of the ways they might view her, coward and traitor were the worst. Especially as she remembered what someone she looked up to had said once. I would have died. I would have died rather than betray my friends. She swallowed down her shame with another sip of tea.

Praise. It had once been a driving force, but after everything, it only felt good coming from certain people. Though Hermione's enjoyment certainly gave her warmth, it didn't make her spine tingle the way it did when Blaise said it in her ear.

As a child, she'd always been taught to cherish the truth, to expose it at any turn without fear. When her mother died from that potion accident, she had wished for lies. The truth had been too harsh. With age, she'd discovered the truth was as sharp a weapon as any other. "You're madly in love and wanting to offer their heads on pikes for your man, got it." She grinned at the visceral image.

At the request, she paused. "What kind of notes?" The question left her lips, and she couldn't help but swallow. "No, don't tell me," she amended. There's no point in prying, especially when she'd already have to sacrifice memories to sell her own story. "I'll do my best."

Hermione nearly choked on her tea at that and shook her head with a ghost of a smile. Love. That wasn't to be in the cards for her, was it? She had a possessive wizard that would give her anything she asked for within reason because it was expected of him, but not love. She'd need more of those romance novels that held more romance than spice to get her through. But she'd manage. It was better than being dead.

"Oh, absolutely. Just so madly in love and want those two to suffer. All in the name of devotion to my husband-to-be," she added with a slight flutter of lashes. If her memories were to be taken, she couldn't even roll her eyes. Damn it all.

Taking a bite of food, she sighed a little. As much as she wanted to tell Luna, she knew she couldn't. At least her friend wasn't offended by that. "If you can't, it's fine. Don't do anything that could get you hurt. You're still my friend," she tried to reassure and slid two sealed envelopes to Luna. There was no guarantee that the old dead drops would even be picked up. But if Harry, Ginny, or Neville got one of them? Perfect. They were familiar with the code she would talk in to them.

"Clearly," Luna hadn't gotten a chance to see them together. She had trouble imagining Draco Malfoy as gentle or kind to anyone, not with how cold and composed he always was. Watching him was very much like seeing a game of Wizard Chess unfold. Brutal and meticulous.

Luna reached a hand towards the letters and shrunk them with a tap of her of wand. Reaching for her first earring, she murmured for it to open and hid the notes in its mouth before placing it back in her ear hole.

"You're still my friend, too," she smiled. "If I can do it, I will," she reassured.

Watching as the earring opened, she couldn't help but chuckle and smile a little bit more. "Very clever. Might have to charm some of my own jewelry." Just for her own sanity. All of her things that hadn't been destroyed, so everything other than clothes, were still in her bags on the floor of her closet.

The reassurance had that slightly sad smile back as she sighed and forced herself to take another bite of food. She'd have to deal with her future in-laws later. And not rise to any of the bait that Lucius likely would do. Finishing the lines of the last two vows, she called for a house elf and folded the list closed.

"Deliver this to my fiancé." She said simply, biting back the please or thank you as she took another bite of food as the elf disappeared with a resounding crack. Looking at Luna's plate, she smiled a bit more sympathetically. "You should try to eat something."

Luna looked at her plate and sighed. "I should, but it'll make those rations just so much harder to stomach," she admitted lightly. They were awful. She wasn't looking forward to whatever scraps she was in for.

"Those are something I'm not going to miss at all. We'll get you back here before too terribly long," she attempted to reassure without a promise of when. But getting her in once they got Wood and Diggory seemed like a good plan. The idea of going against Kingsley made her own stomach turn in knots. She looked up to Kingsley.

"Anything you need help with, preferably nothing that can be used against your husband to a point where he might want to torture me?" She asked gently, trying to laugh, but she knew his temper. A distraction might do well for both of them.

Shoving that right back down, she took another bite of food and pulled out another piece of parchment. She had been busy while waiting for Luna. Not too busy, but enough. She had a vague sketch of a dress that she turned. "Well. He won't torture you for this, but he might envy that you know. I'm attempting to put together a dress elegant enough that it fits for all...." she trailed off and gestured at the Manor in general.

Hope could be such a cruel thing. Though she certainly hoped to return sooner rather than later, she knew it was a risk. Every time was. When offered a distraction, she looked at the parchment and listened to Hermione's statement. "Oh?" she asked, smiling. It would be a lavish affair. One that she would happily read in the Prophet while feigning disgust.

"Did you ever imagine a dress when you were little?" she asked. It felt odd now, thinking of some of her childhood games. Playing out roles she could barely understand. "Might make for a good start."

A sigh left her lips at that question, and she gave a shrug. "Nothing that would be nearly this extravagant. I wanted something more simple. Smaller...just friends and family...Weird how things change so drastically, huh?" She tried to play it off without sounding sad. But this was such a far cry from anything she would have ever wanted.

Looking down, she caught sight of her ring and paused for just a moment before tracing a bit of the filigree around the chest and bodice with a spark of inspiration. "But taking inspiration from what's around me? That I could possibly do...." She added flowing sleeves off of the shoulder and nodded slightly before she chuckled. "When I was little, I pretended I was exploring old archives or ruins."

"I used to want Cinderella's dress with the magic sparkles," she grinned. "Now I think I have an aversion to tulle," she shook her head. "Add some sparkle for me?" she asked gently, a vulnerability. "I'd imagine gemstones or something would be allowed. Your Yule Ball dress was nice. Maybe reuse the neckline, but somehow make it less pearl-clutching. Especially with those," she pointed to Hermione's chest. She'd definitely gained some since their school years, even more since their war years.

"Magic sparkles, huh?" She asked as she glanced up at her friend with a gentler smile. "Tulle is a nightmare, but I have a feeling if it's not somewhat poofy, it might be out of place....I'll add quite a bit of sparkle for you...the official ring is going to have a few stones in it. Don't want the ring to outshine my dress," she offered as reasoning as to why. Her Yule Ball dress was lovely, and revisiting the neckline was nice. Maybe use the jewels to add 'modest' while still showing skin? Perhaps. As she pointed to her chest, she actually chuckled. "It's a wonder what regularly eating seems to be doing for my figure again..."

Even when she was here, Luna had to watch what she ate. Returning well-fed would be a dead giveaway. "Maybe next time I'll know," she spoke and paused. "I need to warn you about tonight," she slicked her lips. "Don't go outside," she cautioned. "I..." How did she even begin to explain what was going to happen? To explain the lengths they would be going to to ensure she would be accepted again.

Hermione glanced up at that warning and tensed just a little bit. They had to make it look good, didn't they? Had to make it look like she had escaped. Which meant she'd get hurt to some degree and it would be....it would be bad. She reached over and took the blonde's hand, giving it a light squeeze. "....I won't go outside. Promise. Won't even go near a window." She wanted to promise that this wouldn't happen again, but she couldn't. Not yet.

Luna brought that hand forward and rested her forehead against it. "I'll be safe. Blaise will handle me," she admitted. If Hermione got word, if she knew, or was made aware, she needed her to know that much.

Blaise always hated this part. It was made worse with Lucius Malfoy here at the manor. This was supposed to happen without Draco's parents already being here, but they would have to put on even more of a show now. She'd be put down in the dungeon momentarily. But for the moment, he held her close and brushed another kiss to the top of her head. He didn't like saying the word goodbye; he didn't want to jinx it that her side would find out or that his side would think this had been going on for too long in the first place.

Everything was kept in a careful balance, and he was just glad that Hermione hadn't done anything to make this worse. Apparently, she was spending more time with Draco than he would have expected. Maybe the pair of them were moving past denial. He knew better than to imply one way or the other. Especially as things got ready for the large engagement party that would be tomorrow evening, so this had to happen now.

"Remember to avoid Mr. Malfoy," he murmured against her hair.

Luna had kept the earrings, but her attire was different. No longer belonging to the Manor. Her old, tattered purple trousers, high tops caked in mud, and whatever he and the war had put her through. Her t-shirt and jacket still in the same poor condition. An hour with Blaise had ensured her hair would be just as mussed as if she'd been in the dungeons all this time.

"I only have one grim reaper on my heels," she cupped his cheek. "Make it look good, love," she nipped his lower lip.

A sigh left his lips as he leaned into that small hand. Envy that Draco got to keep the witch he wanted so close at hand was there for a moment before he quelled it and lightly covered her hand with his own before he nipped back at her bottom lip then pressed one more kiss to her forehead. "Always do," he assured with a half smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

“I’ll do my best to make sure this is the last,” she promised. “Next time you hunt me down will be for the thrill,” she promised in an undertone. Usually, this sort of hunt was rigged in her favor. With Malfoy Sr. around, she knew she had to be more careful.

His chuckle was a little darker at that, and he did look a little more amused. "Don't tempt me like that. You're going to make it very hard for me to play my role," he rumbled in a playful threat before he straightened himself up and took a step back. Blaise took a moment to school his expression, appearing much more cool and aloof. "You ready?"

Just like anything, it was all about headspace. The gentleness eased out of her features as she shoved him back. “Get off me,” she shrieked. It wasn’t that uncommon for Death Eaters to play with their prey. The love in her eyes was replaced with fear and fire. If she imagined every asshole she was going back to, it was easy to fall back in her mind, ready to be marched, disheveled back to the dungeons. Their latest round was still fresh between her thighs, her shallow wounds glistening for all to see through the ripped fabric. Nothing that would hinder her. Endurance potions among a litany given to her to give her an edge. She just had to outrun them and make it to the road. Hopefully, with someone from her side.

As soon as she shrieked, that cold, calculating nature seemed to click back into place for Blaise as he reached around and grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her along at wand point. "You really think you're in a place to make demands, witch?" His voice was cold and cruel as he started to march her back down to the dungeons, keeping his wand pointed at her at all times. Other Death Eaters snickered at the way that Luna struggled, and it made him want to throttle them. Easy to push that cold hatred and fury into his eyes with them around. He despised some of them as much as Draco did. The blond was going to learn a bit more about why Blaise disliked them so much with the brunette about. But he had to stay focused for now.

Luna thrashed against him, even with a wand at her. "Fuck you," she spat back, "fucking animals, the lot of you," she looked at the others, committing their faces to memory as if she was making a list. She definitely had one, and some of them were already on it, but she wasn't even a notch on the totem pole to get away with it. Yet.

"Rather an animal than a traitor, Lovegood," he growled as he led her down the steps, keeping a firm grip on her. She'd have to dodge spells soon enough. He didn't want to cast one on her while they were in the halls. Especially not where Mr. Malfoy could hear her scream and possibly get tempted to show his dedication to the regime. The idea alone had his blood boil.

He was so strong against her smaller stature, and if it weren't for his grip, she would have face-planted down the stairs. His firmer grip had an inhuman sound escape her.

After years of playing with her, he knew that his grip was going to leave more bruises on the back of her neck. In another situation, he'd like to see his marks on her and take care of them. Now? It would simply sell the idea that she had been mistreated and abused. That she was likely being used as bait to draw out more insurgents since all of them saw her as incapable.

He made sure she didn't trip down the stairs, and with a flick of his wand, the doors opened to the cell that he shoved her into, slamming it shut behind her. He'd get punished later for not securing her properly, as always, but it was worth it. And no one knew just how frequently this happened other than Draco and Nott. But Nott wouldn't say a word. "We'll be back for you later," he drawled, looking between the six of them in the cell before going back upstairs.

Cold, humid, and unyielding. The floor of the dungeons wasn't unfamiliar to her. It was where they had brought her the first time she'd been caught. Her gut twisted the same way it had when Malfoy had decided their fate. In many ways, this was a small price to pay. Blaise was alive, and she got to be at his side.

Giving him one last glare, she poured as much venom as she could into it as though she considered hexing him once the hunt began. Sitting against the cool stone, she closed her eyes. It would all begin soon, and then she'd be able to accomplish her final deception.

It was an hour before he came back. A Death Eater per cell. She and Blaise had unfinished business; at least, that's how everyone saw it. This wasn't her first hunt, and with Nott having had the last one, she welcomed this one.

Silently, she followed out into the expansive backyard of the Manor. Beyond the roses and the maze, all the way to the forest's edge. When she peered into that darkness, it felt like a reflection of herself.

"Beautiful afternoon for a hunt," Draco drawled, looking between the six masked individuals, with each a prisoner. "You know the rules. You hunt your own prey," he warned his men. "If I catch them, you'll hurt. If they escape, you'll wish you never existed." His lips twisted into a vicious grin. "All spells to bring your prey in alive are permitted. Once you do, you're welcome to execute your prisoner as you see fit. To make things interesting, your prey will be given their wand and a three-minute head start. Don't disappoint me." His wand threw a three-minute countdown overhead. The prisoners already knew what to expect, the glimmer of hope dangling before them, even if every odd was stacked against them.

Rather than speak, he let the timer begin, some taking a few seconds to realize it was their time to run, to feel that adrenaline carry them forward.