From Wiltshire, With Love

Chapter 57

July 1998

Hermione and Ron arrived at Malfoy Manor Polyjuiced as a married, middle aged couple, both Ministry officials. She worked in the Portkey Division, he worked in the Ancient Artifacts Division. Hermione's department was highly in demand, and she could use her position as an excuse to talk to nearly anyone present. Ron's department would, of course, have a natural interest in the Hufflepuff Cup. Harry arrived separately as Stan Shunpike. Although not Inner Circle, Shunpike would have an excuse to talk with any known Death Eater.

Shunpike and the Ministry officials were currently confounded and incapacitated in their homes.

The trio agreed that Harry would be adequate at keeping up the Polyjuiced pretense by himself. Ron would be better off mostly silent, with Hermione at his side to handle the majority of the talking. However, she had to be careful about bringing up the topic of the Hufflepuff Cup without revealing the reason they were asking about it.

She also didn't know how to figure out whom Voldemort would trust with its safekeeping.

It was a dangerous mission but the trio was stuck. They needed a lead and wouldn't find one holed up in Order safe houses. Nervously, she entered the ballroom with Ron, fingers wrapped around his elbow.

Hermione scanned the room. There were five hundred people here at least, both inside the ornately decorated ballroom, and outside, spilling into the gardens. A quartet played music in the corner and house elves ensured the food was plentiful and the alcohol flowing. All the men were dressed in black formal robes and the women were adorned in colorful, sometimes glittering dresses. She observed Kingsley talking with Umbridge and someone else she didn't recognize.

She narrowed her eyes at Kingsley. All her research into the legalities of pardons indicated that he was hiding something. But how could she find out what it was? She shifted her gaze to Umbridge and stifled a nervous chuckle at the memory of smashing Umbridge's kitten themed plates prior to burning her house to the ground. Ron must have been thinking the same thing and shook with barely concealed laughter.

"Umph," he grunted as she elbowed him.

The danger of their situation somehow made it harder to keep from laughing. Ron gazed down at her with an anxious grin and she steered him in a different direction before one of them laughed out loud.

Some guests parted as Bellatrix sauntered through, her arm laced through Rudolphus'. Her black curly hair was piled loosely on her head and her hips swayed confidently as she walked among the guests. Everyone was terrified of her, including Hermione, and regarded her deferentially. In a brief moment of panic, Hermione glanced over at Harry/Stan Shunpike, worried what he would do when faced with Sirius' killer. With relief, she saw him clench his jaw and abruptly turn away.

Good. He was keeping himself together.

Hermione squeezed Ron's arm and murmured, "Let's go mingle on the opposite side of the room as her."

Ron didn't need any convincing. Fear at her presence wouldn't be perceived as anything out of the ordinary. They wouldn't give themselves away by avoiding her. The two strolled around together past a tray of wine glasses, and she plucked one off the tray for him.

Ron shook his head. "I don't want anything to drink tonight."

Hermione pressed it into his chest. "It'll give you something to do with your hand besides clenching it into a fist. And a sip here and there won't hurt. It'll look more natural."

"Fine."

She sighed in relief and took a glass of wine for herself. Bellatrix's presence was unnerving.