August 2002

"Find each person's "handle," his weak point. The art of moving people's wills involves more skill than determination. You must know how to get inside the other person...First size up someone's character and then touch on his weak point. "

Hermione stayed up half the night re-analysing Draco. She scrapped her entire notebook and started a new one.

She felt as though she were brimming with new theories about him. She wasn't sure if any of them were based on reality or merely brought on by her sleep deprivation, but she felt as though she had hit upon something. As though she were breaking into a muggle vault and finally heard the first tumbler click into place. A warm sense of elation made her smile to herself while she brewed potions that day.

Her heart felt almost light.

This could work. She could win. She could bring him to heel. Seal his loyalty.

She hadn't realized how much the belief that he was simply a monster with a moral code had convinced her that she could never succeed. She'd had a sense of certainty that eventually he'd turn and kill her along with everyone else; it had been entrenched. Despite her heavy reliance upon occlumency the conviction had bled into how she thought and treated him as a whole.

Despite the game they played. He'd kissed her and taught her occlumency. He'd told her she could say no. And she healed him and followed his instructions about dueling and exercising. Beneath the learning and the partial niceties, it always felt like they were two vipers waiting for the other to finally strike.

Now she was reconsidering.

He was not a monster. Not entirely. He was trying to fix something. There were some sort of amends that he was trying to make. Not for killing Dumbledore or anyone else, but for something.

He knew he was fallen. Somewhere along the way something had happened that he was willing to suffer for, even die because of. Something he was trying to make right. He wasn't a spy out of ambition. He wasn't just playing the Order and the Death Eaters against each other in order to come out on top. He was trying to fix something.

Not the war. Not the killing. But there was something he was trying to make amends for.

Her initial assessment had been right. Draco Malfoy wasn't all ice. Under the death, rage and darkness there was more to him. She could use it.

Hermione doubted he'd tell her what was driving him. He was clearly determined not to reveal it. Playing a game of misdirection until her head spun. But she could be patient. Now that she had figured out that spying was some sort of penance for—something. If she refused to really hate him now; if she continued to be kind and comforting and interesting and clever to him. She could find a way in.

She could win.

As evening drew on and she got ready to go tend to his back, she took a moment to pause and steady herself.

She'd have to start over again.

There was something between them that—that she had difficulty letting herself think about too carefully. A tension between them that she'd likely wrecked with her outburst.

She'd have to begin cultivating it again carefully.

She had to be subtle.

Subtle as poison.

Hermione closed her eyes and shifted through her memories; winnowing out her strongest feelings and setting them aside.

Tamping down on her elation, on her bubbly sense of inner-confidence; stifling them until she was clear-headed. Focused.

She apparated to the shack one minute before eight.

When Malfoy appeared, she stared at him for a moment before dropping her eyes, biting her lip and awkwardly fidgeting with her cuticles.

"Sorry..." she mumbled. "You were right. I was careless last night. It won't happen again."

She looked up through her lashes to see if Malfoy was even remotely convinced by the apology.

"Good," he said, staring across the room. "I'm not your keeper. I'm not interested in having to monitor you in order to keep you alive."

"It won't happen again," she reiterated.

He eyed her for a moment and then looked away, summoning a chair from across the room and straddling it while starting to unbutton his shirt. Hermione drew it off his shoulders and surveyed the runes.

She rested her fingers lightly on the top of his shoulder as she leaned forward to get a better look. Malfoy didn't flinch when she touched him. He tensed though, slightly.

"Do you have a time when you want me to close the incisions?" she asked in a low voice as she used her fingers and wand to ease the salve out and inspected the raw edges of the cuts.

It still looked unbearably painful. She wasn't sure how Malfoy was even functioning, much less apparating, much less dueling. Every time she saw the wounds it made her cringe.

He didn't say anything.

She rested her hand on his spine. "I'm going to use the cleansing charm now."

She felt Malfoy tense under her hand and saw his knuckles whiten slightly. She counted to three and cast.

His whole body shook faintly.

"I'm sorry," she said. "If there were any way for me to repair this faster or at least relieve the pain, I would."

"I am aware," he said in a tight voice.

She applied the salve as lightly as she could.

"Would Monday work?" she asked, drawing her fingertips along his bare shoulders trying to get him to release the pained tension that radiated through him. "I can skip dinner if you need me to come earlier."

"Monday," he said after a pause. "Eight is fine."

"Alright."

She recast the protective spells. Then she studied the runes again, brushing her fingers near them. She could barely feel the magic in them. It had sunk in; become a part of him.

She could barely feel any Dark Magic around him at all. Not anymore. Not for weeks.

"Do you—feel the runes?" she asked. "Can you tell if they're affecting you?"

He seemed to be considering.

"Yes," he said after a moment, straightening. "They don't countermand my own behavior, but it's as though new elements have been written in. It's easier to be ruthless. Somewhat harder to dissuade myself from impulses. Not that I had much distracting me before, but now everything else feels even less consequential."

Hermione read the vow again.

"Did you know when he was cutting them which runes he was choosing?" she asked.

"I chose them," he said, pulling his shirt up and rebuttoning it.

Hermione looked at him stunned.

"It was my penance. I already had to grovel. If I chose them I was able to ensure he wasn't going to insert anything problematic. That's why there are so many, I didn't want to leave any room for additional promises. He had to be convinced of my remorse," he said as he stood up. His eyes reminded Hermione of a storm.

"Although," he said, and his lip curled faintly, the rage in his eyes becoming obvious, "he failed to mention that they would take so long to heal until after the fact. In retrospect, I should have anticipated that additional punishment."

"When I close them, it will take a while in order to ensure the scar tissue won't restrict your movement. You'll have to stay awake to tell me. You—may want to bring something to drink."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed and he stared at Hermione for several seconds.

"I'm not going to drink around you, Granger."

She shrugged.

"It's just a suggestion. I'll bring something in case you change your mind. But I imagine the alcohol I can afford is more inexpensive than you'll appreciate."

He snorted.

"I'll keep it in mind."

He vanished without another word.

The following night he was in a tetchy mood, and Hermione refrained from speaking to him as she treated him. However, she noticed that he had begun relaxing slightly into her touch. She doubted he was even conscious of it.

Hermione, for her part, had realised that she had grown comfortable with him. With the taint of Dark Magic no longer hanging about him, her instinctive fear had faded. She didn't hesitate to touch him, didn't experience any tingle of dread in her spine. She no longer tensed, bracing herself that he might lash out.

He felt familiar.

On Saturday, a soothing charm finally stuck to the incisions when she cast it and Draco shuddered significantly less when she cast the cleansing charm.

"The venom is finally gone," she told him with relief. She summoned her satchel over and dug through it for an analgesic potion that she had developed. She drew some cloths out and, after placing a barrier spell on her hand so that it wouldn't go numb, poured the analgesic out until the fabric was drenched.

"This will feel cold and sting for a moment, but then it will numb the incisions," she said. "I'm going to start on the top of your left shoulder."

She rested her fingers just above the first rune for a second before she gently laid the cloth over his shoulder and lightly pressed it against the incisions underneath. He shivered.

She set a timer for the left shoulder and turned to attend the right.

"They shouldn't hurt now but they're still open wounds on your back," she said. "Don't go do something stupid Iike getting into a fight with a werewolf just because you aren't in agonising pain anymore."

"Will you sign off on my werewolf fighting Tuesday?" he asked in a snide voice.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'd advise giving the scar tissue at least three days to set before fighting any werewolves."

He chuckled faintly.

The conversation stalled after that, but the evening ended on a surprisingly cordial note.

Hermione was in a somewhat cheerful mood when she apparated back to Grimmauld Place. As she landed on the steps, her bracelet suddenly grew red hot.

She flung the door open and found it in chaos. There was blood smeared across the floor.

"Hermione," Neville shouted. "It's Ginny."

Hermione bolted up the steps as quickly as she could, avoiding the blood spilled across the floor.

Harry, Ron and all the other resident Weasleys were there. Pomfrey and Padma were hovering over a bed where Ginny was lying.

"What happened?" she demanded, dropping her satchel and rushing over. Ginny was unconscious and had a large, ragged gash along her face. Blood was pouring from it.

"Necrosis curse hit her on the cheek," Pomfrey said, between spells. "They cut it out as quick as they could, but we've never had anyone make it back after being struck in the head."

"Padma! Blood replenishing potion!" Hermione barked as she cast her own spells. Brain damage was not one of Hermione's specialties. Normally when curses reached the brain the damage was beyond healing.

She cast the most complex brain scan spells she knew and studied them.

"It didn't reach her brain," she gasped with relief. Then she cast another diagnostic over Ginny's head. The ragged, hurried cuts made it hard to read any other details. She couldn't see any obvious indicators of remaining necrosis, but Hermione didn't trust Fate to be kind. She snatched Pomfrey's wand from her hand without asking, muttered a charm and began using the second wand tip delved into the diagnostic layers, looking for any remaining traces of rot hiding beneath all the tissue damage she was reading from the removal process.

There...

"There's necrosis in her zygomatic and frontal bones. I have to remove them now," Hermione said. "Everyone get out!"

There was protesting which she ignored as she cast more blood staunching spells, trying to see exactly where the curse was still eating into Ginny.

"Give her one drop of Draught of Living Death," she ordered Padma who had just poured blood replenishing potion down Ginny's throat. "It will slow the recovery but we can't risk her moving."

Hermione grit her teeth and prayed as she summoned potions from the cabinet and began to cast a series of intricate spells and wards over Ginny's head. Many of which she had never used before or only used once.

Trying to remove any sections of the skull was horrendously risky in any situation, but far worse when trying to accomplish it rapidly. It was going to expose the sinuses, Ginny would lose her entire eye socket, and part of her frontal lobe would be exposed until the bones grew back.

Staring at the black spots on Ginny's exposed skull that were now growing before her eyes Hermione cast a hair removal charm and then spread a thick, purple potion very carefully around the edges of the gash and then out across more than half of Ginny's head and face. When it was carefully and evenly spread Hermione cast a setting charm. The potion grew hard and shell-like. An exoskeleton.

Hermione took a steadying breath and banished each section of Ginny's skull.

The exoskeleton potion externally held the areas which no longer had bone structure supporting them. Hermione recast the diagnostic and checked repeatedly and thoroughly. The necrosis was gone. The bones had been removed before the curse reached through to Ginny's brain.

Hermione collapsed slightly and felt tempted to sob with relief. It had been so close. So very close. Closer than she would ever tell anyone.

She steadied her hands and administered Skele-Gro. She added several monitor wards and several more protective wards around Ginny's exposed brain. Then she set a timer.

With the interference of Draught of Living Death the bone regrowth would take ten hours. She couldn't start repairing the gash until the bones had been regrown completely or the repaired tissue would have nothing to form over. Ginny would carry a cruel looking scar for the rest of her life, but she would live. Whoever had cut out the necrosis had done it quick enough to save her.

Hermione took Ginny's hand in her own and stroked it gently. She was covered in blood. Hermione cast cleaning charms across Ginny's body and changed her into into hospital robes with a few flicks of her wand. Then Hermione cast diagnostic charms over the rest of Ginny to ensure she wasn't injured anywhere else.

There was a scrape on her calf and bruising on one arm. Hermione fixed them in a few minutes.

Hermione stood and picked up both of the wands beside her.

"Sorry," she said, handing Poppy her wand back. Grabbing a person's wand without permission was grossly offensive.

Poppy stashed her wand with a shaken expression.

"I had already cast four diagnostics before you came and none of them showed the remaining bone necrosis. I've never seen a diagnostic dissected compositionally before. I'm glad you didn't waste time asking permission."

"I read about it in a book on healing theory. Brain diagnostics are difficult. There's so much activity that the magic picks up. They're hard even for specialists to read quickly. It was just luck it worked."

Hermione sighed and wanted to sit down. Now that the crisis had passed, she was able to feel her heart pounding and her hands shaking. She felt light headed and on the verge of falling over backwards.

"I should go let everyone know she's alright," she said shakily.

Harry and Ron and almost everyone else in Grimmauld Place were waiting outside the doors of the hospital ward.

"She's alright," Hermione said as she opened the door. "She'll be alright."

Harry gave a sob and slumped back against the wall.

"Oh, thank Merlin," Charlie muttered.

Ron rubbed his eyes and Hermione saw blood on his hands and all over his clothing. She approached him and cast a subtle diagnostic as she did so. He was uninjured. It was all Ginny's blood.

"Did you remove the necrosis?" she asked Ron.

He nodded and his pale blue eyes flooded briefly with tears. His whole body was shaking as though he were going into shock.

"You saved her, Ron," she said, pulling him down into a hug. "You bought her enough time to get back. If you hadn't, it might have been too late, or she might have lost her eye. She'll have a scar, but she's going to be fine."

"Oh Merlin," Ron collapsed slightly in Hermione's arms. "Lucius showed up. We apparated but when we landed we realized Ginny was hit. When I saw it—"

He dragged his hand across his eyes and it smeared blood across his pale skin. His hands were shaking uncontrollably.

"All I could think of was when Dad came back. And after George. And now Gin—and I—she looked at me and I knew I had to try. It was—it was worse than anything—"

Ron sobbed and buried his head into Hermione's shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him tightly.

"I just kept trying to tell myself it was to save h-her," he mumbled into her shoulder. "Mum—I promised Mum I'd keep her safe—told her I'd never let anything happen to Gin."

"You did save her," Hermione said into his ear. "You did exactly what you needed to do."

"I am going to kill the Malfoys," he muttered into her ear. "Lucius and Malfoy, I'm going to kill them both. I don't care if I have to wait until after the war to do it.That family deserves to die."

Hermione didn't let the circles she was rubbing into Ron's shoulders falter. She just hugged him tighter.

The oath to kill the Malfoys was an increasingly common refrain among the Weasleys; the primary exception to their firm opposition to killing. It had started after Dumbledore's death, but grown more frequent after Bill returned from a mission dragging his wailing father with him. Lucius Malfoy had made a point of identifying himself immediately after cursing Arthur with some obscure spell that had resulted in giving Arthur the mental capacity of a toddler.

Hermione had gone through every healing manual and obscure book of curses that she could get her hands upon but she never managed to find out what the curse was or any means by which to reverse or lessen the effects.

In some ways, Hermione sometimes guiltily thought, it was worse than if Arthur had died. Which was probably what Lucius had intended. Arthur Weasley was gone, except not. His friendly, curious, affectionate self remained, trapped in the body of a middle-aged man and a child's mind. He needed to be watched constantly. He would only mind a few people, and was prone to having explosions of accidental magic and minor seizures when upset. His effective loss was a staggering, dual setback for the Order. Molly had to step away almost entirely to care for her husband full time. She had taken him to live at one of the hospice safe houses. When George was able to leave the hospital ward at Grimmauld Place, he had joined his mother in helping to care for his father.

"You are a good brother," Hermione murmured to Ron.

When his shaking finally eased she pulled back slightly in order to ask the question pressing in her mind.

"Ron, can you tell me what you used to remove the necrosis? Was it spellwork or a knife?"

"A knife. One of the ones from Harry's vault," he said.

"Can I see it?" she asked steadily.

"Sure," Ron said, somewhat confused. He glanced around looking slightly dazed still. "I think it's downstairs. Neville has our stuff."

Hermione stepped back and poked her head into the hospital ward.

"Poppy, can you check Harry and Ron for injuries? And administer a Draught of Peace? Double for Ron. I need to check something."

Hermione made her way downstairs. Neville and Hannah Abbott were mopping up the floor with magic.

"Nev, can you show me Ron's rucksack?"

He nodded over toward the corner.

"It's the one with all the blood on it. I haven't cleaned it yet."

Hermione went over and started going through it carefully. The contents had been flung in haphazardly. There was blood drying on everything. Shoved into a outer pocket she caught sight of a knife handle.

She pulled it out carefully. It was goblin-wrought, as she had suspected.

She carried it into the kitchen and washed the blood off. Then she pulled a small piece of raw chicken from the stasis bin and ran the entire blade of the knife lightly across the meat. The magically sharp edge sliced effortlessly. Then Hermione laid the knife carefully aside and stared down at the chicken.

A minute passed. Then two. Hermione wondered if she'd been mistaken. Then, a small speck of darkness appeared on the chicken. Hermione stared and watched as it slowly grew larger and larger over the next several minutes.

Hermione cast a stasis charm but it had no effect on the rot steadily spreading across the meat.

She cast a barrier charm on the blade of the knife, and several protective wards. Then she wrapped it in several towels and put a repelling charm on the whole thing. Then she placed it in a drawer which she locked and booby-trapped with several stinging hexes and an alarm.

She turned and went back up to the hospital ward.

Harry was sitting next to Ginny, holding her hand. His eyes were huge and devastated and his face was pale. He was chewing nervously on his lip. When Hermione laid her hand lightly on his shoulder, he started and looked sharply up at her.

He smiled thinly. A hospital smile. A rictus. The faint, wan tightening across the face that givers made with the intention of appearing encouraging or stalwart, but which alway just looked fractured.

When Ginny woke she would wear the same expression while she reassured everyone that she was fine; that she didn't mind her scar; that she really was fine.

Hermione smiled sadly down at Harry and conjured a chair in order to join him

"She shouldn't have come," Harry said after a minute.

"The Order decided what the best unit would be, she wasn't there because of you two," Hermione said. "Lucius' grudge doesn't have anything to do with whether you and Ginny are together."

"I'm going to have to tell them not to pair us anymore," Harry said, looking up from Ginny's hand to stare into the distance.

His expression was dazed and his bright emerald eyes didn't seem to see the hospital ward. Hermione recognized the expression. He was back on the mission, reliving it over and over, in order to berate himself over what had gone wrong.

"It was all my fault," he said. His voice was small, quavering slightly. "I should have put the wards up sooner. The mission was so easy. Pointless. It was like a trip with her and Ron. Like we were camping for fun. I let my guard down."

Hermione said nothing. It was confession. He was so stunned and grieved that he had things he needed to say. He just needed to verbalise it. He couldn't tell Ron. He felt too guilty to direct it at Ginny beside him.

Hermione had listened to a lot of confessions from those on bedside vigil in the hospital ward. Sometimes she felt like a priest.

"After we got away—when I saw it on her face—I froze," he said after several moments of silence. "When I saw she'd been hit. I didn't—She started crying. And Ron stunned her. And I was just standing there. I just stood there while he was cutting her face up. I barely snapped out of it enough to apparate us back. Ron had to do almost everything. It was just like Colin. I just stood there."

"No one could have saved Colin," Hermione said quietly.

"I could have helped save Ginny!" Harry snapped suddenly furious. "What if she had died? And I had just been standing there? The woman I love—my best friend's sister. I just stood there and watched her face rot—"

He dropped Ginny's hand and shoved his glasses up, rubbing his eyes.

"What if she'd died? Or become like Arthur? Because I was careless and didn't put the wards up?" Harry's voice was trembling and his hands were clenched into fists. Hermione could feel the magic shivering around him as his guilt and emotions continued to grow.

Hermione summoned a flagon of Calming Draught and transfigured a piece of cotton dressing into a cup which she filled. She held it and waited for a moment in which to give it to Harry. If she handed it over too soon, it would be thrown into a wall.

"No one responds perfectly every time," she said.

"It can't happen again," Harry said flatly. "I'm not going to risk it.

Hermione said nothing, and after a minute Harry slumped against her. She slipped the cup of Calming Draught into his hand. Then she rested her head on top of his.

"She's going to be alright," she said. "I promise. She's alright."

Harry nodded, and Hermione gave herself a moment to just be with him. Her best friend.

Most days it felt as though they lived in separate worlds.

The boy who saved her from a troll. Who she'd brewed polyjuice potion for. Who she travelled back in time with in order to save his godfather. The friend she'd taught the accio spell. Who she'd set up Dumbledore's Army with.

He had carried on as a hero, but somehow Hermione's path had split off from his.

He turned to her as a healer, but rarely as a friend.

She laced her fingers through his chaotic hair.

"Ginny is in love with you, you know," she said. "Don't push her away. Don't do that to her. Don't do that to yourself. You're already both in danger because of this war. You shouldn't give up the happiness you have. Don't let Tom take that from you."

Harry didn't say anything, but he downed the Draught of Peace while he kept staring at Ginny.

"Can she hear me?" he asked after several minutes, his voice sad and hopeful.

"No, sorry. I put her in stasis until her bones regrow and I can fix the cut. It would be dangerous for her to move when her brain is exposed. She'll be awake tomorrow."

They sat together in silence for several minutes until a silvery bulldog came barreling into the hospital ward.

"Potter, Granger, mission debrief in five minutes," growled Moody's voice before the patronus vanished.

Harry sighed and stood up.

"I guess I'll see you in there," he said, stroking Ginny's hand one last time.

Hermione watched him walk out and then turned to Ginny. She cast a few diagnostics to confirm that everything was stable and regrowing the way it was supposed to. Then she went downstairs and got the knife out of the kitchen drawer before going to the dining room where Order meetings were held.

Remus and Tonks were already there, and smiled at Hermione when she entered and found her seat. Bill walked in a few minutes later. He and Fleur alternated meeting attendance so that one of them was always monitoring the prison. Charlie followed, still looking as pale as he had been when Hermione had announced that Ginny would be alright. Neville entered next, followed by Amelia Bones. Then Ron and Harry. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody entered behind them.

It was less than a quarter of the current Order. Only a handful of members were informed about the horcruxes. The Order had learned through hard experience the danger of letting too many know too much when their opponent was an accomplished legilimens. Molly and Minerva rarely attended any meetings although they were technically still in an intelligence tier high enough to receive all information. Severus only attended top level meetings scheduled with more advanced warning.

"Harry, Ron. We'd like a full report on your horcrux hunt," Kingsley said without any preamble.

"There's nothing to report," Harry said flatly. "We went all the way to Albania and couldn't find anything. We didn't see anyone or have any trouble until Lucius showed up."

"How did Lucius find you?" Moody asked, his eye rolling across Harry and Ron slowly.

"I don't know," Harry said, "we'd just started to set up camp. The wards weren't up but we'd been there less than fifteen minutes."

"Where were you?"

"Somewhere either in France or Belgium, I think. Some forest. We were planning to apparate back the rest of the way tomorrow."

There were several seconds of silence.

"Do you have anything else to report?" Kingsley asked.

Harry and Ron looked at each other and shook their heads.

Everyone's expressions hardened in disappointment.

Hermione took a deep breath and steeled herself. There was a chance that she was just being pessimistic, but given her track record in Order meetings she was not feeling particularly hopeful about the reaction to what she was going to announce.

"I have something to report," she said quietly.