REBEL

1. INK BLACK - PITCH BLACK

1. INK BLACK – PITCH BLACK

He is here.

They actually brought the bastard here, and Harry didn't even bother to consult me before issuing the corresponding order. Instead, it was Blaise's Patronus that startled me out of my sleep. The loud mention of his given name woke me up. In an excited, almost euphoric voice, far too joyful for such news.

Draco has surrendered, Hermione.

I literally stood upright in bed, for fuck's sake.

I can't share Blaise's delight because I don't think it's a coincidence that Malfoy deigns to defect to the Resistance now of all times. After more than seven years. It's probably a ruse. An ambush. Or maybe he fell out of favor with Tom over something and simply had no choice but to flee head over heels. That would be typical of him.

But whatever the truth, bringing him here was negligent either way. What was Harry thinking?

Even if Malfoy is actually on the run and has no intention of using his Dark Mark to summon his master, Tom can still use it to track him down. I guess we're lucky he's not here already.

It's that last panicked thought that has me rushing into the dining hall in my goddamn pyjamas less than two minutes after Blaise's message. To take most of the ridiculousness out of my unprofessional appearance, I put on a scowl and push open the door twice as hard as usual.

"What the hell is going on?" I yell as I march across the room, hands already on my hips.

At least Harry has the decency to look caught red-handed.

"It's all right, Hermione," he says, raising his hands reassuringly. "We have the situation under control."

"Under control?" I bark, trying to stop myself from tearing my hair. "We must evacuate headquarters immediately, Harry! How could you bring him here? Without prior interrogation? That's probably exactly what Tom is hoping for! Where do I have to report to work with professionals just once?"

"Draco has surrendered," Blaise notes carefully, repeating himself.

The sound of his voice causes me to quickly scan the rest of those present. Sitting at the table next to Blaise are Oliver, Dean, Anthony, Katie and George. So almost the entire crew that was with Harry at the guard post that Malfoy picked for his little theatre.

Merlin, I hope they haven't left the village completely unguarded. I feel a strong urge to slap each and every one of them. Seriously.

"Malfoy is a superb actor, Blaise," I retort, exasperated. "He always has been. How can you be sure that he isn't pressing his finger to his Dark Mark at this very second? And even if he actually wants to switch sides, which I honestly very much doubt, Tom can still use his cute, little tattoo to track him down. You damn well know that!"

"Oh fuck," mumbles Oliver.

"Oh fuck, indeed," I repeat snidely.

Harry adjusts his glasses and clears his throat, but before he can open his mouth, Blaise speaks up again.

"If that worked, Tom would be here by now, wouldn't he? He would have had plenty of time to track Draco down. If you ask me, he must have been on the run for days. He looked like shit."

"I can confirm that," Harry chimes in. "I think we can risk taking our time with the interrogation. There must be a reason he's here."

"I'm sorry, what?" I snort with irritation. "Why should we even give him a chance to explain himself? He's a Death Eater of the worst kind. One of their supreme commanders. Even if Tom can't track down his followers, as we've assumed so far, Malfoy can't expect us to harbour him. We should throw him right back out and leave him to his fate. I can kill him myself for all I care. He's a massive security risk."