Fleur's parents had been early casualties when the war reached France. Gabrielle had survived by being at school rather than at home, but eventually the war had razed Beauxbatons too. Few members of the French Resistance had survived. Hermione suspected Gabrielle's veela allure had been what spared her. The way Gabrielle had continued to weaponise it seemed like a form of guilt-stricken restitution and revenge.
Gabrielle's methods had grown more vicious and vindictive over time. Flamboyant. Borderline careless. Hermione had started taking calming draught before even heading to the beach in Cornwall.
Hermione wasn't sure how much of Gabrielle's activity Fleur was aware of, but she imagined Fleur knew enough and suspected more about the little sister who was always so eager for her next mission.
Gabrielle's eyes were colder and older than even Draco's.
Hermione stared at Moody in silence for several seconds after Fleur left. He gave a low sigh and started casting privacy charms.
“I'm worried about Harry,” Hermione said when Moody sat back. “He seems like he's at the edge of a precipice. We need to get into Hogwarts.”
“We're trying to. Remus has a team there now.”
“I think—,” she hesitated and crossed her arms. “I've been — dabbling in a few things lately. I think I've found a way to take down the wards around the castle. I've been analysing all the reports brought back. There's — a bomb — a bomb I think I can make. It can be placed under temporary stasis. We can have Draco or Severus plant it without risking their covers. I can delay the detonation for up to three days.”
Moody stared at her. “You think?”
Hermione's throat tightened, but she lifted her chin. “Well, I've never made one before. When I mentioned the idea a few years ago, I was told it was unethical, regardless of how targeted the blast could be on a Death Eater location. The Order decided we could only use explosives on empty buildings. However, this one wouldn't have much collateral. The blast would be targeted at the magic surrounding the castle. So — if it's framed carefully, the Order shouldn't find it unethical in this case.”
“What materials would it require?”
She could see Moody calculating a budget for her proposal.
She swallowed. “I — already have them.”
Moody's expression stiffened. His eye spun and locked on her. “This is Malfoy's idea then. He's offering to supply you?”
Hermione pushed her chin up. “No. This is my research exclusively. I have the materials because the Resistance brought them in last year when the curse division's lab was raided. There was a large quantity of materials brought back that—” her mouth twitched. “They aren't used in traditional forms of potion making. I have more than everything I'd need.”
Moody gave her a long look. “You've never reported it.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I was busy at the time; all I could do was store them until I had time to catalogue it. It wasn't until July that I knew exactly what I was handling.” She shrugged. “My supplies were never an inventory I was asked to report.”
Alastor's face twitched with irritation, but he seemed to be seriously considering the proposal.
He ran his thumb along the handle of his wand. “Using a bomb to get into Hogwarts would result in an all-out battle.”
“I know.” Her chest felt constricted, and she had to force herself to breathe. “I was thinking, if it's played as a rescue, we could use a larger attack as a diversion while a smaller group could go into the castle. The school should still recognise Minerva; it might cooperate with us.”
Moody gave a slow nod, looking deep in thought.
Hermione left without a word.
Alone in her potion cabinet, she leaned over and rested her head on the worktop. Her hands were shaking from stress and exhaustion. Voldemort felt like an incoming tide. The rock the Resistance had lashed itself to was crumbling beneath them.
No matter what she did, it was never enough to enable them to get ahead.
Draco had been abroad for nearly a week, inspecting the puppet governments Voldemort had set up across Europe. It was an assignment Voldemort tended to give out on whim.
Rodolphus Lestrange had been on such a mission when he'd been intercepted by Gabrielle.
Draco left a note in the shack to explain his absence. It had been so abruptly assigned that a note was all he could manage.
Since the day she had read it, Hermione had nightmares of arriving at the beach in Cornwall and discovering Draco sitting mangled in that small room in the cave. Nightmares of him never returning at all, and receiving word from Severus that he'd been been found dismembered in some foreign city.
She had never even thought to warn him about Gabrielle.
When her ring burned again for the first time in days, she ran out of Grimmauld Place to apparate and flung herself through the door of the shack.
He was already standing in the middle of the room, still wearing his Death Eater robes.