Chapter 3

                                    

                                          
Hermione was fine. At least physically. She and Kingsley made it back fine, along with most of the other pairs. Most. 
George had taken a curse and nearly had his ear severed off and his head dented in as his red hair was matted with blood that also soaked his skin and his clothes. But the worst of it was that Mad-Eye Moody was dead. Harry and Voldemort had faced off after Hedwig gave away who he was as she tried to protect him, a feat that cost her life. And the second Mundungas took a look at the Dark Lord, he Disapparated and left Moody to fight them on his own. He hadn't lived to tell the tale. 
So now, as people were getting cleaned up and ready to turn in for the night, Hermione locked herself in the bathroom in the Burrow as she stared at herself in the foggy mirror. She was in her pyjamas, a simple blue cotton button down with short sleeves and long pants as her hair was swept into a ponytail. 
She'd just finished brushing her teeth and wiping her mouth when she caught the reflection of her emerald ring in the mirror. She could take on Death Eaters and flying with no experience, but she couldn't take calling Draco Malfoy first. 
"Screw this," she huffed as she closed her eyes and held the ring. "Malfoy? Malfoy, are you there?" 
Goosebumps on her arm drew a gasp from her lips as her eyes snapped open and Draco's reflection stared back at her in the mirror. She spun around to face the ghost-like apparition that was him, who had touched her arm to get her attention. He was still dressed in black, but in his usual suit rather than his Death Eater garb.
"So, you didn't become the world's palest pancake," she teased, and the corner of his lips turned up but it seemed pained. 
"So, you were worried about me?" 
"Worried that my only in to the Malfoy library became road kill," she fired back and his lips spread a bit more. 
"I knew you only agreed to trust me for the books," he played along. "So, I take it that you're safe?" 
"Most of us are. One was injured, one betrayed us, and one didn't make it." 
"I hope you didn't summon me here for sympathy?" Draco said and Hermione just sighed. 
"Don't worry. I am well aware that your black heart isn't capable of feeling anything other than disdain and the overwhelming need for self-preservation."
"Of course, my heart is Black. My mother was a Black. Is that not common knowledge?" Draco asked and Hermione rolled her eyes before he continued speaking. "I'm not here to coddle your little feelings every time someone dies, Granger. This is war. People are going to die, but you will not be one of them because you are the only person who possesses a modicum of intelligence enough to help me end this war." 
She stood straighter. "Believe me, I know that you're not here to coddle me, nor would I ever want you to. But you don't make any sense to me." 
"I'm not here to make sense! I'm here to -" 
"End the war, I know," she finished. "But a week ago you were talking me down from a panic attack and now you're...this." 
"What is 'this'?" 
She seemed to flounder. "The word eluded me, but trust me, I will find it." 
He smirked this time, a proper one that made his eyes shine with mischief. "Hermione Granger is not able to find a word. The world really is ending." 
"Shut up. Why did I even need to summon you here anyway? Do you have anything new to tell me?" 
Draco shifted, somewhat uncomfortably as a hand held his ribs. "Not currently. There is something in the works though. Another raid or something. And it must be important because He's planning it himself."