5. House On a Hill

Disclaimer: Please don't sue me, I make no claims of ownership of these characters. They belong and always will to JKR.

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Chapter 5 – House on a Hill

When Hermione returned to the Ministry, she gave the information from Draco to Harry and walked wordlessly back to her desk. There was only about an hour left before it would be time to leave, and she spent the time staring absently at the calendar on her desk, or looking at the paperweight of a giant turtle that sat on her desk, or twirling a Muggle pencil in her hair while biting her lip and frowning.

This was how Harry found her, sitting at her desk, staring at a memo, reading it over and over, still trying to focus on it. She finally gave up and put it down when he approached.

"Hey," he said, smiling.

"Hi," she returned, forcing a smile.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Rough day with Malfoy."

"I'm sorry, I really am. But thank you, Hermione. You don't have to go back to Azkaban to see him ever again." Harry gave her a pointed look. "Say, do you want to, maybe, get a bite to eat before you head home? It looks like you could use some company."

She wanted to say no, to go home with a pint of ice cream in her hand and watch a sappy movie, but a tiny voice in the back of her mind begged her not to go home to an empty flat just yet. "Okay, but a quick bite," she insisted. She gathered her bag and books and followed Harry through the office to the lift.

When they arrived at the Apparation point on the main lobby level, Harry took her arm in his. "Allow me; I know this great little place." If Hermione had been paying closer attention, she would have seen something behind the grin Harry cast her, and she would have been suspicious. But she didn't see it, because she was watching a little girl pulling her father through the lobby toward the exit doors. He was laughing. She didn't get to see what happened next, because just then Harry Apparated her away.

When they stopped spinning, and she felt solid ground under her feet, Hermione opened her eyes, expecting to be in a crowded part of town. Instead, she found herself in an empty field, with nothing breaking the flat ground as far as the eye could see on three sides, and a line of trees on the fourth. The wind was blowing fiercely, and her hair was flying all around her face. "Harry, where are we?"

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, and now that she was paying attention, she saw a guilty expression plastered on his face. "Please, come with me." He tried to lead her, but she refused to budge. "Please, trust me, Hermione. I'll explain as soon as we're inside."

She looked around her. "Inside where, Harry? I don't see anything!"

"Come on," he urged, "It's very close". She gave in to her curiosity and followed. They walked for five minutes, and finally Hermione saw something other than flat ground. The thing that broke the flat line in her vision looked like a person standing in the distance. Harry urged her toward that figure. As they neared, she was able to make out one standout feature – white blond hair. She stopped walking, fear gripping her insides.

"Harry, what's going on?" she asked, squeezing Harry's arm so hard he thought she'd draw blood.

He became more insistent. "Hermione, please relax. We'll talk inside. Please. Trust me."

"That's Malfoy," she said, panicking. But which one was it? And why was Harry taking her to him? And was this really Harry? As her thoughts tumbled over themselves, she started shaking. "What's he doing here? He's in Azkaban. Harry – are you really Harry? Tell me what's going on this instant, or I swear I'll hex YOU!"

"Calm down, Hermione. It's Malfoy. He's not in prison anymore. Of course it's really me."

"Fifth year, what were you asked to do for your Charms practical?"

Harry rolled his eyes. He didn't see why she was being so irrational. Of course, he had information that put him at ease, and if he'd thought about it at all, he would have been able to see things from her perspective, that she didn't have that knowledge, and would rightly be highly concerned at her situation. But he didn't think about it, so he couldn't understand her. "Make an eggcup do cartwheels."

Hermione threw her arms around him tightly, nearly choking him. "Her-mi-o-ne," he stuttered, unable to string two syllables together at once due to lack of precious oxygen.

She pulled back, looking scared, but a little more relaxed. "You don't know how scared I was, Harry. I thought you weren't you, and you were taking me to Lucius, and – oh, what is going on, Harry?"

"Lucius? What?"

"Well, from a distance, he could be Lucius," she insisted.

"Okay, okay. True. Well, he's not. Let's go, okay?"

"He's still him! I am not taking one step further toward him!"

Harry pulled her and as he was much stronger than she was, she couldn't completely resist him, but she put up such a fight that Harry nursed a bruise or two for a week. Finally she gave in and let herself be dragged toward the edge of what she determined was a cliff. Nearing a cliff where Draco Malfoy appeared to be standing set off more alarms all through her brain.

They stopped about 100 feet from the edge.

Draco had enjoyed watching Harry and Hermione approach. He knew it would be difficult to get her to cooperate, but he had no idea how difficult. He watched Harry fighting with her the whole way, except for that strange hug she'd given him, which she followed with a series of sharp punches to the shoulder.

Draco smiled at them when they were within 20 feet of him. "Welcome!" he said happily.

Back to swagger-Draco, Hermione thought. Then she scolded herself. She shouldn't be seeing any kind of Draco! She realized that when they'd spoken last, he must have known this was going to happen, and that made Hermione mad. She didn't like being played with.

"What's going on?" demanded Hermione, feeling dizziness join her list of complaints.

Harry spoke. "I'm going to have to let Malfoy do most of the talking here, Hermione, since I can't tell you myself. But I must tell you now, if you decide not to join us, I will erase your memory and you can go back to work like nothing happened."

"Join you?" she said, incredulously. "What do you mean? And you will erase my memory? Since when do you have the right to erase my memory!"

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you sooner, Hermione, I really am. But it had to be kept absolutely silent."

"Join you in what?" she asked.

"We're joining forces. Combining our respective resources," said Malfoy. "To solve a mutual problem."

"And that would be?"

"Voldemort," He said frankly.

Hermione's jaw dropped.

"And Lestrange," added Harry. Draco nodded to him and returned to look at Hermione.

She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. Malfoy had offered Voldemort in Harry's office, she had heard that. Did this mean he'd accepted the offer? "Harry, why would you do this?" She turned to Draco. "And, and Malfoy, you're – you're –" She couldn't put into words exactly what she was thinking, in part because she had no idea herself. Her brain had seemingly turned to mush. Hermione put her hands to her head and closed her eyes, forcing herself to take deep breaths. Then, "Why? None of this makes any sense!" Hermione rubbed her head to try and relieve the pressure that was rapidly building.

"My reasons," said Malfoy.

She gaped at him. "Your reasons? That's all you're going to give?" He just looked at her as though she were a very amusing plant. "Well, that's not good enough for me."

"Too bad," he said, looking at his hand. "Because that is all I'm saying."

"You can't honestly expect me to just capitulate because you promise that you have 'reasons'. How could you think I would be satisfied with that?"

"We don't, Hermione," said Harry quickly, "I'm asking you to trust me, trust that the reasons he gave me are good enough. Because he can't tell you his reasons."

She glared at Harry, arms crossed tightly. "How do I know you're not under a curse right now?"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Hermione, because Malfoy doesn't have his wand back yet. I have it, right here." He pulled the smooth black piece of wood out from his robes and showed it to her. She took it and put it in her own robes.

"Hey!" said Draco.

"You get it if – IF – I decide you get it."

Draco looked at Harry angrily. "Potter, I want my wand."

"You'll get it, don't worry."

"Harry, please help me understand what you're doing."

"Hermione, nothing is happening with the Ministry. Every lead we get is crushed, every hope is dashed, and nothing goes anywhere. We start moving one way, but we're led another way, two steps behind where we started. We move backwards, all the while putting on this great show like we're making headway on Voldemort and his followers."

"But this isn't the way to get things done," she protested, turning to face Harry and put Malfoy out of her vision. "This isn't right. You can't just take matters into your own hands and expect things to turn up roses in the end."

"Matters have been in my hands since the night Voldemort killed my parents. Remember the Prophecy? I let the Ministry take matters away from my hands, thinking they would help me. Instead I just ended up another cog in the wheel, putting in my time and wasting away behind a desk. You know what I mean, I know you do. You must have felt this way at some point during these last couple of years. I can see it in your eyes, you agree with me."

"Yes, I do," she said, "But I also think there are rules and laws for a reason."

"I'm not breaking any laws!"

She blinked at him, then turned around and pointed at Draco. "Uhm, does he seem familiar to you? Because he's supposed to be in prison. But look, he's not. He's here, he's free, and apparently waiting for you. That's a law or two broken, I'm pretty sure."

"It's all on the table, Hermione. Part of the agreement we made."

She stared hard into Harry's eyes for a minute, then closed her own. "I'm just supposed to accept this."

"It's okay if you don't. I just know how futile you think the Ministry is right now, and we thought you would appreciate the chance to do something about it."

"And what exactly are WE going to do, anyway?"

"Oh, I'm going to kill him," chimed Malfoy, pleasantly. "And my dear Auntie."

"Bellatrix?"

Draco shrugged. "What's one more in the whole scheme of things? Potter won't have to do the deed but he gets revenge on Aunt Bella for Sirius. I go retire to my island – I think I've mentioned it before – happy as a bunny rabbit in springtime. No one gets hurt."

"You're going to kill Voldemort." she said, looking at Harry with arms crossed.

"Yes," said Draco, "At least, we'll disembody him once more. Then we'll search together for the remaining Horcruxes. You tried that a few years back, but went about it the wrong way. You should have killed his current body, and then tried to destroy his soul. Much more efficient, and there's less chance of getting yourselves killed."

She shook her head. "And you want no fame, no glory, nothing – just an island." He nodded. "I don't buy it. It's not your style. You're in this for something for yourself, Malfoy. Don't try to deny it. And there's no way you can live on an island for the rest of your life. You need people to feel superior to, people to insult and put down."

Draco actually clapped his hands together and said in a most gleeful voice, "Oh good, so you'll come too?"

She narrowed her eyes. "And what do you get out of this?"

"Full pardon."

"Ridiculous," she said, shaking her head. She waited for him to tell her what he really wanted. When he didn't say anything, only smiled that crazy, escaped lunatic smile he was sporting today, did she think he might be serious. "You've got to be joking. A full pardon? For everything you've done?"

"In exchange for Voldemort. Oh, and all the Death Eaters, and everything I know about them, which I've already given."

She turned to Harry. "Do you really think Voldemort is worth a full pardon?"

The look he gave her told that yes, he most certainly did think it was worth it.

"Doesn't matter anymore what anyone thinks, least of all you; what's done is done," said Malfoy.

"I beg to differ, oh great evil one. It probably matters to a lot of people."

"Yeah? Like who?"

"Okay, since you're so good with names, let's have a list of all the people you have hurt or killed who will not receive justice for what you did."

He cringed. "A whole list?"

"Yes."

"Let's try numbers, shall we? I'm good with them too. Let's see… 722 no 723 uses of the Imperius, 458 uses of the Cruciatus, and 47 deaths."

"Murders," she corrected. Then she frowned. "Only 47? In four years? I'm surprised the number is so low. So who was the lucky witch who can say she was your last kill?"

"Wasn't a witch," he said. She started to speak, so he added, "Not a wizard. A Muggle." Hermione was shocked. "And number 48 was supposed to be a witch," he said, watching her closely for signs of outburst and also planning an escape route for when the pieces fell together in her head. He didn't know her at all, but he figured she'd be upset to say the least.

Comprehension dawned on her. "Wait, are you saying the last people you killed were my parents?"

"And she does get the prize for brightest in her class!" Then he instinctively put his hands up to protect his head.

"But, that was over a year and a half ago! I cannot believe you haven't killed since then."

"It's true."

"How is that possible?"

He shrugged. "I worked my way up so I could pass that duty off to others. Never seemed to be a problem to my esteemed master."

Hermione shook her head. Draco Malfoy had not only turned himself into the Ministry a month ago, and made an agreement with Harry, but here he was now, claiming that he intended to defect from the Death Eaters with the purpose of destroying Voldemort and the underlings he slaved with for four years. "Still, full pardon is excessive."

"Like he said, Hermione, it's done," said Harry firmly.

She thought hard. "Let's say for a second that I believe you. What's the plan? What am I doing here?"

"You, if you agree," said Harry, "Will help us from the inside. You'll go back to work and feed us information – on Death Eaters, progress, anything that might be helpful. The details of your assignment will be withheld until we have your decision."

Hermione put her hands on her hips, cocked her head, and said in a frighteningly Mrs Weasley-ish way, "Harry Potter, do you really think I would settle for such a menial task?" Draco blinked; was he just impressed by her?

"Blast – I didn't think about that," he said, groaning, "No, of course you wouldn't."

"You're certainly right about that. Informing is not something I will agree to. If I'm joining this – whatever you want to call it – thing – I'm IN, all the way. I won't go back and sit at my desk like a good little Auror, waiting to be given work by you two."

Draco smiled at her, and looked at her as if he'd never really looked at her before. The truth was, he hadn't ever really looked at her before. All he'd ever thought about her was that she was a goody-two-shoes, workaholic, study freak who enjoyed a Friday night with books more than an evening with living people. "Didn't see that coming, huh Potter?"

"Should have."

"Yes, Harry, you should have," she scolded. "You know me better than that."

"So you're in?" asked Draco, hopefully.

"Not yet. Since I refuse to play the role of tattle-tale, what will I do? Will I even be useful?"

"Of course you will be useful, Hermione. You could get another job, one you like," added Harry, trying to sound positive. "But the thing is, we do need someone in London at some time, helping gather information. And you're such a good researcher, Ron and I never would have made it through without you, you know that."

He was trying to flatter her and gain her acceptance. Just because it always worked didn't mean she would cave this time. But she found herself intrigued by this new challenge.

She narrowed her eyes at him. Flattery will get you nowhere, Harry."

"Am I getting through at all? Does this interest you at all?" he asked, sheepishly, hopefully.

"Yes, you are. I admit I'm intrigued, and fed up with the way the Ministry is handling things. And I want to say for the record that I think this could turn out very badly." She looked pointedly at Malfoy, indicating that the possibility of betrayal was at the fore of her mind.

"It won't, Hermione. I really believe that."

She sighed. "So, my job will be to do research and pass you information. Do I get to do anything fun?"

"Funny, I thought you loved the library, and looking things up in books was your perfect description of fun," said Draco, feigning confusion.

"Haha, very funny."

"We'll see, Hermione," said Harry, not wanting the other two to talk for too long, for fear that Malfoy would say something to set Hermione off. Or the other way around. "We're not exactly sure how this is all going to play out."

"And if I say no, if I listen to this little niggling voice in my head that's screaming 'bad idea', what would happen?

"I'll Obliviate your memory of everything involving Malfoy."

Well, huh. That was an entire month's worth of memories. Nearly everything she'd done at work related to him, and most of her thoughts away from work were about him. She spent time thinking about ways to slowly and painfully kill him (only for entertainment), ways to humiliate and embarrass him on her next visit, and she even tried figuring out what he was up to. Which, obviously, had been a waste of time. She never would have guessed that he'd be asking for her help. Then something occurred to her, something that she didn't want to think about, but it was like a train wreck; she couldn't not think about it.

"If I went back, you'd erase my memory of today," she said, matter of factly.

"Yes," said Harry slowly. "Like I said, all the way back to when Malfoy walked in to the Ministry."

"I see."

"I'm sorry, please know that I am. It feels like all I've done over the past month is apologize to you. But we can't risk having anyone know that he was there. And if I didn't erase your memory, could you truly be okay with what you now know? And if I didn't go that far back, you'd notice that I was missing and Malfoy out of prison, and make a big stink about it."

"I – I wouldn't remember all our meetings," she said, addressing Malfoy.

Draco frowned, not at all understanding her point or why she sounded so unhappy at the thought of not remembering. "No," he said slowly, looking at her thoughtfully. "Though I don't see why that would be a problem."

But it was. She had learned things about him that for some reason she wanted to hold on to. The image of him as a ghost, and his poetic description of himself, were things she never wanted to let go. She had no idea that it had happened, but when he'd quoted those verses from Tennyson to her, she started to wish, deep down in a far away corner of her mind, that she could find something in him worth finding. After all, how could someone who spoke with such emptiness be so full at the same time? And how could someone whose words were deeper than the ocean depths at the same time be empty? And now there was another reason she wanted to remember: the last people he had killed were her parents. That meant something, she knew it.

Hermione thought briefly of her options. One, she could return to work, to a job she didn't really like, where Harry wouldn't be anymore, with no knowledge of where he was or what he was doing, and continue plugging away at pointless tasks, disgruntled because she felt so incredibly useless. Or two, she could help him and Draco Malfoy, sworn enemy, Death Eater, murderer, general scum, do the unimaginable and attempt to destroy Voldemort. Well, when she put it like that, the choice was obvious.

"Okay, I'm in," she said, confidently. She looked at Harry, who smiled, and then at Malfoy, who had a strange expression on his face. She couldn't read it, no matter how hard she tried. Then the expression was gone, replaced by his standard smirk.

"Wonderful!" said Malfoy. "Then please, step into my parlor." As he spoke, a small, two-story house appeared out of nowhere. It looked old as England, and rotten, musty and falling apart.

" 'Said the spider to the fly,' " muttered Hermione as she followed Harry through the door.

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A/N: Would love a little note from you:)