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Chapter 2

Draco idly wondered when the noise would stop. Granger had stopped the curse minutes ago, but his throat still released a throaty, animalistic growl.

Stop it, he commanded himself. You are weak.

He looked up from where he had fallen, only to see Granger looking at the thick folder again, and wondered if they had recorded all of his crimes, and how they got that information anyway.

"We have our ways," Granger said. Her voice seemed detached, but it rang high and clear in the suddenly cavernous room, answering his unspoken question.

Of course she was a Legilimens. "If you can read my mind, why don't you just use Legilimens on me and call it a day?" he asked, his voice gravelly.

"Obviously because you're an Occlumens." Hermione still hadn't looked at him since she lowered his wand.

His wand. He was amazed the thing yielded to her. Traitorous thing. At this thought, Draco heard Granger slide the folder back under her chair. He looked up to see her examining his wand.

"Your wand is a lot like mine, Malfoy. Now, are you going to tell me what I want to know, or shall I continue?"

Draco really didn't want to answer her question, so he opted for asking one of his own. "So, tell me. When did you become this ruthless?"

Hermione's eyes flicked back to his, and she smirked. Then she stood up tiredly, as if she had better things to be doing than torturing one of Voldemort's top generals. With a flick of her wrist, she moved the table over to the wall to the right of her. She Vanished the chair he had sat on, and before he could react, she conjured heavy chains that bound his wrists to the ceiling. All this was done in the span of two seconds, and without the use of either wand that she had on her person.

"I must say, I'm surprised that I felled you, Malfoy," Hermione said, sitting back in her cold metal chair.

Draco spat a globule of blood and saliva onto the ground, then tried to strain his wrists against his shackles. For the purposes of his interrogation, Hermione had transformed Draco's holding cell into a dungeon. He looked up then, blood dripping from the corner of his lips. The shock of being tortured by Gryffindor's Golden Girl had worn off. Draco, in his arrogance, had forgotten that this was war, and that Hermione was the brightest witch of her time. Now, facing her and her wands (she had used both on him), Draco chose to be careful with his words.

"It was luck, Mu-Granger. You wouldn't have been able to do it otherwise." Well, more careful then he would have been.

"Well, your inadequacy cost your side a lot."

Draco flinched at the use of the word "inadequacy," then proceeded to glare at Hermione.

"Besides," she continued, "it's clear from the way you fight that agility is not your strong suit."

Silence from Draco.

"You know, Parkinson was sure you'd be willing to cooperate," Hermione said, twirling her own wand lazily.

Draco's eyes widened. "You have Pansy?!"

"I'll tell you if you tell me," Hermione said, a slight smile twitching her lips.

"No fucking way, you Mudblood bitch!" Draco spat on the ground again, his demeanor revealing just how much he reviled this "new" Hermione. How could someone change so much over the course of the years?

"Same way you changed, I suppose. We are fighting the same war. Or did you forget," Hermione asked sarcastically, walking forward to jab her wand into the soft hollow of Draco's throat. "Now, tell me what I want and I'll go easy on Pansy," she whispered, her eyes moving up to look into his.

Draco shook his head roughly, trying to remove himself from the painful thrust of Hermione's wand. He pursed his lips and refused to speak.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Alright then," she said. She turned around, heading towards the door, then decided against opening it and going through Parvati's exhaustive round of security procedures. She conjured a Patronus, a very faint outline of an otter, Draco noticed, and sent it to Parvati with a message.

"Bring in Parkinson."

She spent the next couple of minutes alternating between reviewing the thick file and flinging cuts and hexes at Draco nonchalantly. The room echoed with his labored breathing, and Hermione was very aware of the tasking way he tried to keep his emotions under control. Several times she looked up at him with blank eyes, refusing to register the blood that had pooled around his heavily-booted feet. She would not make the same mistake she had at the beginning of the war.

Finally, the heavy metal door opened and Parkinson's bound figure was shoved through. The sound of the door slamming shut echoed ominously as Draco stared incredulously at Pansy's shaking figure. "You captured her too?!" he burst, livid. He had lost his composure, finally.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, in the off chance that you wouldn't cooperate. They were going to trade her last night, you know, for that prisoner exchange bollock that they do, but I figured she'd be more useful here with us, in order to persuade you."

Draco continued staring as Hermione pulled Pansy up and sat her on the table that Hermione had pushed to the side of the chamber. Hermione tilted Pansy's chin up. "How about it, Parkinson? Think he will cooperate?"

Even though Pansy refused to look in Draco's direction, he believed he could detect her fear. He saw tears roll down her cheeks as she looked into the far corner of the room, not wanting to acknowledge him. Draco knew she didn't want to pressure him, and that only made him more angry. The girl was innocent, for fuck's sake! Only guilty by association.

"God damn it, Granger! Pansy has nothing to do with this war!" Draco shouted.

"But she's a sympathizer," Hermione deadpanned. "And her father is a prominent Death Eater."

"Are you fucking kidding me?! She was at Hogwarts! She doesn't follow her father's creed anymore." Draco breathed heavily, then spoke, his voice hoarse and loaded with disgust. "How- how did you find her?"

"We have our ways," Hermione replied. "Now, are you going to do what I want, or am I going to have to torture Pansy here?" Hermione was still facing Pansy, who looked into her eyes resentfully.

Draco looked on, helpless. "She's an innocent!"

"Boy, Malfoy. You're not willing to cooperate, are you? And you keep yelling!" Hermione inhaled deeply. "Please, keep your voice down." She walked towards him. "Are you sure you want to go down this route?"

Draco looked at Pansy, and what he saw made him look at Hermione in a new light. Pansy had her face lowered, and trembled very slightly, looking like, to Draco, the very embodiment of fear.

"Well?" Hermione questioned.

"What do you want to know," Draco asked, resigned.

"Can't believe that worked, Granger," said a deep male voice from behind Hermione.

She didn't look up, and continued to read her book on defensive magic.

"You didn't hurt Pansy, did you?"

"Of course not," Hermione said, yawning and stretching her arms above her. "For a spy, you're really dense," she continued. "Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the work you do," she chuckled, finally able to relax after her taxing assignment, "but you've known Draco for years. You should have known better than to think that coercing him would work." Hermione shook her head at the dark figure that walked past her to the chair on the opposite side of the table.

"Would you believe me if I said I was testing your instincts?" Blaise Zabini sat down, stretching his long legs out under the small table and nudging Hermione's own out of the way. He was anxious to know how the interrogation went, and waited for Hermione to divulge her tale.