Not Quite Dark Magic

Radial Active

The day after Hermione was released from the hospital wing, the A, B and D team gathered in the War room to prepare for the raid. Malfoy had informed them that while the take over in Romania had indeed been successful, it had exhausted and severely injured the majority of the Death Eaters that had been assigned.

"How'd you escape unscathed then?"

Hermione stiffened. While Ron's voice had not been entirely unkind— perhaps a bit accusatory, but nice enough— she was aware how much he disliked having Malfoy in such close proximity to her, especially after he'd walked into her room to see his Slytherin jersey placed carefully onto her bed.

Malfoy didn't let it bother him, not outwardly, at least. But Hermione could feel his irritation trickling into her mind before he shoved his shields up higher.

He shrugged, moulding his face into a carefully crafted mask. "Must be a bit more skilled than them, then."

"When would be the best time for us to strike?" Moody was looking over the document Hermione had been working on concerning her and Malfoy fighting on opposite sides while bound. He wasn't convinced it was a smart idea to let Hermione battle in the raid and she was determined to prove him wrong.

"At night, definitely," Malfoy began, sitting up straighter and leaning his arms on the table. "Those that aren't injured will be celebrating the victory. If you wait until one or two in the morning, the majority of the Dark Lord's forces will be too shit faced to be able to fight back properly."

Hermione sent a flare of irritation to him and he rolled his eyes to the ceiling, but refused to look at her, or correct himself. Though she had no doubts that Malfoy's switch in loyalties were strictly based on self preservation, she still found terms like "Dark Lord" to be offensive and unnecessary.

He fired back with an image of him accidentally calling Voldemort Tom— they way they had often referred to him since the Taboo had been put out— and of him being crucio'd until he was senseless. Hermione huffed out a breath but withdrew her emotions behind her Occlumency walls. She supposed he did have a point there.

Everything that was happening, that Malfoy could witness, needed to be kept under the largest and thickest of shields in his mind. Picking up the terms they used and changing his language to fit them would do nothing but cause suspicion and get him injured. And as reluctant as she was to admit it, she did not want to see Malfoy hurt on her account.

"Tonight," Moody declared, setting the papers down with a flutter. He eyed the group harshly. "Everyone needs to be on the roof at the apparition point at midnight."

There was a flurry of nodding heads and shuffling papers, but no one stood to leave. There had been no dismissal in his tone and Hermione stiffened as she waited.

"Malfoy," he turned to look him in the eye. "We'll do our best to aim nonlethal hexes at you or make near misses with the spells. Your orders are to stay clear of any Order members. If it comes down to it, if you aren't quick enough, we will kill you to avoid suspicion."

Malfoy didn't seem deterred by the emotionless tone of voice or the harsh words. He merely nodded.

"I can help confuse things on the other end. It won't be much, but I'm sure I can delay their arrival by a few minutes."

"Every second counts." Harry's voice was strong, but his hands in his lap, fiddling nervously, were a dead give away. He hated the idea of Malfoy being at risk for the sake of the Order. Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. After all Malfoy had done to spite them since the second he'd met Harry, you'd think he could be okay with this specific person finally meeting with his karma. Maybe he really was a saint.