Adult Content Warning
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Summary
Years after what should have been the final battle, the Order is losing the war—almost as badly as Hermione is losing grip on her own magic. But the Brightest Witch of Her Age is used to carrying secrets.
Then a grieving Weasley pulls her into the orbit of her childhood nemesis . . .
—
Sparks shot from the end of Hermione’s wand. “Stay the hell out of George’s head.”
She didn’t say the rest aloud: Because he’s hanging on by a thread, and the boy I remember would break fragile things just because he could.
Malfoy inclined his head. “Of course. All you had to do was ask, Granger. No need to bring fire to a friendly chat between allies.”
He gave the man at her side an unreadable look. “It’s been dull staggering through that mess of a mind anyways. He forgets most of what used to make him even mildly interesting, these days—did you know?”
Hermione ignored how the stench of stale firewhiskey and George’s dead weight on her shoulder nearly made her knees buckle as Malfoy moved closer.
“Besides,” he added, “I’m more interested in getting into yours.”