From Wiltshire, With Love

Chapter 69

Author's Note: There's a trigger warning associated with this chapter. See the end notes for details if you need them.

Hermione stepped into the shower, hoping the hot water would help calm her nerves. Everyone was on high alert. Even though they were prepared, and just about ready to leave, it was still unsettling knowing that the raid could be any time.

After chewing Hermione out, Tonks suggested she tell Draco to stand-by for information right before the raid, and Hermione did her best to make it sound like instructions before sex. She hoped he understood the double meaning because he didn't reply, didn't acknowledge receipt of the message, and refused to answer any of her pleas to talk.

Several times she held her Galleon in hand, tempted to tell Draco outright about the bombs. And then she'd change her mind. It was only the knowledge that she'd put everyone – including Draco – in even more danger than they were already that kept her from saying anything.

Feeling empty, she held her body as the water pounded down, and her lip trembled in worry. Covering her face with her hands, she began to cry. Hot, angry tears of frustration.

Hermione understood Tonks' rationale. For all the trio's work on the Horcruxes, killing Voldemort wouldn't be enough. They also needed to gut the support system of Death Eaters that ran the Ministry and other institutions from behind the scenes. She couldn't deny that blowing up the safe houses would strike a devastating blow to Voldemort's Army, a victory that the Order desperately needed. Although they stymied Voldemort's progress in controlling wizarding society, they hadn't been able to overthrow him. Up until now, the Order had been treading water, barely keeping above sea level.

The bomb strike could mark a significant turning point in their favor.

But Hermione was still furious. She had never felt so helpless, or regretted an idea so much in her life. She wiped her nose, smearing snot and tears in the water running down her face.

What if Draco didn't get her warning in time? What if he ignored it? What if he threw away the Galleon? All sorts of irrational thoughts ran through her head. He'd only have a few minutes. And then what? What could she do?

Maybe she could stay during the raid. With Harry's invisibility cloak, no one would see her. But how would Draco know where she was? How would she even know which safe house he was at? How would Hermione be able to identify him? When in their masks and robes, all Death Eaters looked more or less the same.

Fingers twitching nervously, she pulled the wet, matted hair from her face and tilted her head back into the water stream.

Tonks told her long ago that the spy/handler relationship wasn't an egalitarian one. But good relationships were.

Militaries weren't democracies. Without knowing why, soldiers did what they were told, trusting their commanders to make the right decisions for the whole, not the individual. But you couldn't hide critical information from someone you loved.

Hermione understood all this. And yet, knowing didn't help.

She wanted to strangle Tonks. And she was certain Draco felt similarly towards her. She betrayed him. Thinking back, there were a thousand ways she could have handled that conversation with him better. She wished he would have stayed so she could explain her moral dilemma, but what was left unsaid? She was sure he understood why she held back, but it didn't matter then, or now.

Her heart ached, and she wiped away more tears. Hermione was sure that telling him had been the right thing to do. He didn't deserve to be lied to. But the longer Draco's silence lasted, the more she second guessed herself. Would he really abandon them? Had she endangered the Order? She didn't think she had at the time, otherwise she never would have said anything at all. But after her conversation with Tonks, she wasn't sure.