CH-8

Then the door swings open, and Blaise looks at us, surprised.

"I thought no one was in here," he says. Then he grins. "You lot are getting sloppy. First you forget to cast a Muffling Charm, and now you're forgetting to lock doors."

"Shove it, Zabini," says Ron.

He shrugs and starts to leave, but Harry stops him.

"Blaise, wait."

Blaise turns around. "Yeah?"

"I think it might be helpful if we know a little more about Malfoy's abilities. And since you're his best friend—"

"Hey, I haven't had a proper conversation with him in years," Blaise says as he reenters the room and shuts the door behind him. "Honestly, I don't know much about how his abilities have grown in all this time. But there is one thing I want to warn you about. He seems to have learned something that allows him to stop us from using our wands."

"What do you mean?" I ask. "I've never heard of any sort of magic like that."

"I'm not sure what it is. I have a hunch that he might have to touch a wand in order to control it. But when I saw him, the first thing he did was Disarm me. He gave my wand back right away, but later on, when he threw me back against a wall, I couldn't block the spell."

My eyes widen. Harry and Ron look surprised as well.

"What do you mean, you couldn't block the spell?" Harry asks.

"I had the intention of using a Shield Charm, and it didn't work."

"Maybe you're just rusty," Ron says.

"Nonsense," Blaise snaps. "I'm excellent at nonverbal magic, and you know it."

"Yeah, there's no way Blaise would screw up a Shield Charm," Harry says to Ron.

Blaise takes one look at me and says, with a sly grin, "I bet Hermione's wishing for that Hogwarts library right about now."

I punch him in the shoulder, and he laughs.

"Don't laugh at me," I say. "Besides, wouldn't all of you like to know how he does that as well?"

"So I guess my best piece of advice for you two is, don't let him get a hold of your wand," Blaise says.

"Do you think it's some sort of Dark magic, then?" Ron asks.

"Probably," Blaise replies.

There's an awkward pause. Then I pull the door open and shove Blaise out of the room.

"We're going across the hall to discuss something," I say. "You two should probably talk out some sort of strategy for facing Malfoy. I'll come back in a few minutes."

Harry and Ron exchange surprised glances, but before they can comment, I exit the room and shut the door behind me. Blaise is looking at me with an amused expression. I cross the landing to the room that I share with Ginny and pull the door open.

"Get inside," I say.

He enters without complaint, and I push the door closed behind me when I'm inside.

"Muffliato."

"What are we talking about?" he asks.

"Do you have any idea who—"

"Still worrying about the Death Eater who set you free?"

I sigh. "Yes. Did you find anything out yet?"

He looks at me with something akin to sorrow in his eyes.

"What? Is it something awful?"

"No, no," he says quickly. "I haven't found anything out yet. I just don't like to see you bothering yourself so much about this."

I feel disappointed that he hasn't identified the Death Eater yet. But I suppose it is asking a bit much to expect him to determine the identity of a Death Eater from one of their standard cloaks.

"Relax a bit, Hermione." He pauses, and then a grin spreads across his face. "Maybe I can help you with that."

I roll my eyes and open the door. "Go on, get out."

He exits the room, and I follow him out.

"Zabini!" Lupin calls from the foot of the stairs. "I was about to go looking for you. Can I have a word with you?"

"Sure," Blaise says. He flashes a smile at me before starting down the stairs.

I cross the landing to reenter the boys' room.

I wonder if Draco Malfoy would really turn spy for the Order. Not bloody likely. It's probably best to start planning ahead, coming up with ways for Harry and Ron to defeat him in a duel.

I'm lounging in a worn-out, high-backed armchair facing the fireplace in my godfather's study. My mask is hanging on the armrest, and my extra cloak is draped over the back of the chair. It's already been twenty minutes, and still Potter hasn't shown.

I decide to give him ten more minutes before leaving.

Then I hear the floorboards creaking very quietly.

Someone's coming.

I wait calmly until they're in the room before letting my eyes wander up to the small mirror that hangs over the fireplace.

A head of red hair.

Why am I not surprised?

"This is hardly good for trust-building," I say.

I see his surprised expression, but then he looks at the mirror and scowls.

"I'm not here to build trust with you, you insufferable bastard. Now, what kind of information are you giving to us?"

I click my tongue and stand up, turning to face him. "Do you really think you can just show up, after I specifically asked to see Potter, and expect me to tell you what I know? Even after I kept my word and didn't bring a wand?"

He points his wand at me. "Yeah, I do expect that. I could kill you, and no one would care. I could just tell them that you attacked me."

"It's true. That's certainly something you could do. But you'd regret it."

Weasley narrows his eyes. "Why?"

"I won't tell you," I say. "I asked for Potter. I suppose since the Order doesn't care for my information, I'll just go back. It's safer for me that way, anyway."

I start to walk around the armchair.

"Don't move, or I'll blast your arse to hell," Weasley says.

I don't stop moving. "Go ahead," I say, stepping toward him.

He lets me pass by him.

"Answer me this," he says as I start walking down the hall, away from him. "Why would you offer information to us anyway?"

"Has it never occurred to you that you're not the only ones who want the war to be over?" I reply.

"Malfoy, wait," he says. "I'll take to you Harry."

I spin around and wait. So Potter is around here somewhere, after all.

"I'm only here to make sure that you held up your end of the deal," he continues. Then he points his wand at me. "Expelliarmus!"

Nothing happens, as expected.

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