Devil Doesn't Bargain

The Meeting

Hermione slipped on her gear as quietly as possible. She only had four daggers in her room currently, so that would have to be enough. She didn't want to risk making her way to the training room; she didn't even want to breathe too heavily for fear of waking Draco across the hall. He was a notoriously light sleeper, and this was something she had to do alone. She tightened her braid, adjusted her mask, and flipped up the hood. She would attempt anonymity unless she was certain Moony knew her identity.

The manor was silent as she carefully stepped down the staircase. Once at the main entrance, she flicked her wand to muffle her footsteps and took off in a sprint. She had to make it past the main gates; the apparition ward was bound to them. She glanced back at the manor as she ran. Still nothing. Only ten more seconds, and she'd make it. Hermione sucked in a breath and pushed herself even faster. A few more feet. She glanced back again. A light flicked on in a window. She smiled to herself. He was too late.

Hermione passed through the gate and disappeared with a crack.

A feral growl rumbled down the bond, so furious that she slammed her hands over her ears. Malfoy was screaming obscenities so colorful it was almost artistic.

I'll be fine. Now shut up and trust me.

Before he could argue or attempt to track her, Hermione slammed all of her magic against their connection. She'd never tried to block him before, but it seemed to work. All at once, the noise died down and she could hear her own thoughts again. Wonderful. She quickly took in her surroundings.

She'd visited Cornwall before, on holiday with her parents when she was eight or nine years old. Even then, Hermione loved the old architecture and the history all over the entire beach. Today, she chose to land in a grove of trees, just to the side of the ruins. This way she was covered in the shadows and would see her target first. Theoretically.

A light tapping on her shoulder had her wrenching out a knife and settling into a crouch, ready to pounce. Malfoy had often said she reminded him of a cat with her feline movements. If her knives counted as claws, she supposed he was right. In her left hand, she pointed her wand dangerously at the figure.

He raised his hands cautiously. "Sorry. My senses are stronger than yours. I assumed you heard me."

It was Remus. Familiar, even-tempered Lupin. The man that had constantly cared for Harry and at times even herself over the years. The man who understood the value of knowledge, and rarely kept anything from her no matter how sensitive the subject matter. Her heart stung. She didn't lower her weapons.

"You sent the note." She wasn't asking, only confirming.

"Yes." Remus shoved his hands in his pockets and eyed her warily. His gaze flickered to her dagger a few times but finally rested on her mask. "But you knew that."

"Yes." She replied, running her eyes over his worn clothing and exhausted frame. "And somehow, you know who I am. How?"

"Do you really think everyone assumes you're dead?"

"Yes, I do actually. It's almost September, Lupin. I disappeared in–"

"In March," he interrupted, "yes, I know. I've been with Harry, you see. Working on a certain project that has recently lost a core contributor."

"And you find yourself in need of a Gold Mask, do you?" Hermione's voice was shrapnel, meant to be abrasive. That old wound was festering again at the sight of someone familiar. The anger of being left behind. The despair of being forgotten. The reality that no one had come for her. She fixed him with a glare, even though she knew it wasn't fair. He'd done nothing.