Kingsley was standing in the war room, staring at a map on the wall. Hermione knew he was aware of her presence, but he didn't immediately acknowledge her.
“Kingsley,” Hermione said as she closed the door softly, “could I have a word?”
He turned with a sharp pivot, his robes fluttering around him and cast several privacy wards on the room before he spoke.
“Granger,” he said, “new information?”
Hermione unbuckled her satchel and handed the scroll to him. Kingsley unfurled it and ran his eyes across it for a minute before stashing it inside his robes and looking at Hermione again.
“Do you need to speak with me about something, Granger?”
Hermione stared at him for a moment. Ever since Draco had demanded her, Kingsley had stopped using her first name. She had noticed. He referred to Harry and Ron and most of the other members of the Order by their first names, but he always used her surname to address her. To impersonalise her to himself, she had concluded.
“I think Severus has spoken to you and Moody, about his concerns regarding Malfoy,” she said.
Kingsley nodded, his expression betraying nothing. “Yes, we've spoken.”
Hermione nodded. “The way things are going… I'm beginning to think there's at least a chance Malfoy may kill me.”
Kingsley looked at her squarely and straightened his robes. “Are you asking for us to pull you out, Granger?”
Hermione looked away and stared at a still life painting on the wall. “No. We need the information. We'd probably all be dead by now if not for Malfoy. I just — I want to know what I should prioritise while I'm training Padma to replace me. She doesn't have two years like I did, and there is still too much basic healing she needs to learn before I can teach her advanced Dark Arts healing. And then there's potions and foraging. I'm just not sure — She's not as driven as I was. I know she wanted to stay in the field with Parvati. So I need to know what you and Moody regard as the highest priorities.”
Kingsley was silent for a minute.
“I'll speak with Alastor and look over the hospital's reports. Perhaps make a list of what areas we have no redundancy in. I'll have an answer next week.”
“Alright,” Hermione said, nodding. Her voice sounded stilted and mechanical.
“Granger. Tell me, what exactly is the strategy you're trying to employ?”
She looked back over at Kingsley and felt tired.
“He wants me. He's obsessive, and he wants me. But he knows what I'm doing. I can tell, by the way he looks at me, that he knows. I still don't know what his long term goals are. He doesn't ever say anything that gives it away. If I keep drawing him in, and it turns out I interfere with his original ambition, he may resort to killing me. But, if he doesn't kill me — according to Severus the Malfoys tend toward being both obsessive and possessive. I don't think he'll abandon the Order at that point. Willingness seems critical, and he knows that mine is conditional on the Order's survival. ”
Then she shrugged. “Or I could be wrong and he'll turn on the Order, which is what Severus fears. I honestly don't know. This is not — I don't know how to use people like this.”
Kingsley was silent.
“If he's growing obsessed with you — That's more than I had expected,” he said, glancing over at the table and resting his fingers on the edge and tapping thoughtfully.
Hermione felt as though she should have some kind of reaction to the words; offense or satisfaction or — something. But she felt nothing. It was as though her heart were slowly compacting inside of her chest, growing smaller and harder day by day.
“I'm not—,” she started and then paused and pressed her lips together. She twisted her head slightly as she felt tension in her neck begin radiating down her shoulders. “I'm not lying to him, Kingsley. I'm not being insincere. The emotional connection between us is real.”
Kingsley's fingers stilled, and he studied her with slightly narrowed eyes. “I hope you're not becoming compromised by him, Granger. The Order is depending on you to stay on mission.”
Hermione nodded stiffly. “My loyalty will always be to the Order first.”
Kingsley's expression did not ease. “Harry — you know I can only keep him away from the worst fights if I know which ones they'll be.”
Hermione flinched. “I know. I'm doing everything I can, Kingsley. I am doing the very, very best that I can. I'm not — I'd never do anything that would risk Harry.”
“Keep it up then,” Kingsley said, turning back to the map on the wall.
Hermione stared at his back for several moments before she turned and rested her hand of the doorknob; as she gripped it, she laughed quietly.
“Something else you want to say, Granger?” Kingsley's voice had a slight edge to it.
Hermione glanced over her shoulder. His back was still to her.
“I was just realising,” she said in a low voice, “If I succeed — you'll use me to control Malfoy the same way you're able to use Harry to control me. It — it almost makes me feel sorry for him.”