“Is this going to expose you?” she asked, running her hands over the glass longingly. “This is a suspicious quantity. An individual couldn't use this much in a lifetime.”
He smirked dismissively. “I'm a General in the Dark Lord's armies, I can ask for anything I want. Those who question it tend to find their tongues missing.”
Hermione blanched and Draco rolled his eyes.
“I'm being facetious, Granger. I have never cut out anyone's tongue. Suffice to say, I'm not going to do anything that risks blowing my cover just because of you.” He sneered at her as he shoved the scroll of information into her hands.
“Keep practicing.” He vanished soundlessly.
Hermione stared at the empty space for several minutes before she left.
When she got back to Grimmauld, she surreptitiously divvied the Essence of Dittany into dozens of tiny vials and hid them carefully. Most Order members were too ignorant about potions to notice or wonder if Hermione suddenly had an endless supply of it, but Padma would know. They'd been trying to invent ways to stretch their meager supply of Dittany for weeks.
Malfoy was quiet and surly when he trained her. He ignored her questions and only spoke to scold her angrily when she did something wrong.
She would have almost thought he hated her, except every time she walked in the door he instantly appeared and looked as though he were bracing himself to find her injured; his eyes ran over her from head to toe as though to reassure himself.
The dueling sessions kept getting longer and longer.
Hermione pretended not to notice.
Several weeks later Malfoy pulled out a shielded cloak. She looked it over carefully.
“All my clothing is already shielded.” She held her cloak in front of herself and found that it was perfectly sized for her height.
“This is shielded with manticore blood.”
She looked over at him sharply. “Does that mean you killed it?”
“No. It's surprisingly difficult to come up with a good excuse for killing them. But it seems that mine is strangely lethargic, McNair cannot understand why,” he said with a smirk.
“You're bleeding it,” Hermione said, looking at the cloak again.
He nodded. “They don't do well in cold climates. Perhaps it will come to an unfortunate end this winter. If I'm lucky it will mature enough to produce venom before succumbing to the cold.”
“I hope you're not torturing it,” Hermione said, eyeing him. “It's sentient. And even if it weren't, every living thing should be treated humanely.”
“I am not torturing it. Although describing it as sentient just because it can speak is highly generous,” Draco said with a faint sneer. “All it does is croon about how it wants to eat me alive.”
“If you were keeping me prisoner and draining me of my magical abilities I'd croon similarly,” Hermione said.
Draco laughed mirthlessly.
“Thank you, for the cloak,” Hermione said after she looked it over carefully. It was beautifully made. It had temperature regulating charms woven into it so she could wear it all year round and it was lined with dozens of undetectably expanded pockets for her to stash things inside. The hem was charmed not to be tripped on. Even without the manticore blood protection, the cloak had to be worth a small fortune in craftsmanship.
“Consider it my thanks for healing my back,” he said without looking at her.
She looked over at him and he stared determinedly out the window. “Are they—,” she hesitated. “Did the scar tissue set properly? I — you — you never came — when I came to check on them.”
“They're fine,” he said in a stiff voice. “Physically, I can barely feel them. I had no need for further attention.”
His jaw was rolling slightly, rippling as he clenched it. Hermione stared at him for a moment before dropping her eyes back down to the cloak.
“Well, that's good,” she said. “I — hadn't ever done the procedure to that extent before. I was worried—”
“Don't be! I have no need for the concern of someone like you.”
Hermione stared at him wide-eyed. He balled his hands into fists as he stared at her.
“I just meant—,”she started.
“Just back off, Granger,” he said in hard voice. He wrenched a scroll out of his robes and dropped it onto the ground before vanishing.
Hermione picked up the scroll thoughtfully, tapping her chin after she stashed everything in her satchel.
She left the shack and walked toward the creek deep in thought.
What had he said about the influence of the runes?
“