Things continued on uncomfortably normal despite knowing the Death Eaters were looking to start a slave trade with muggleborns, blood traitors, and muggles. Hermione kept an ear out for any news that could point to it beginning, but nothing seemed to pass through the camp.

As it was, the camp was fairly empty for the rest of the week as Kingsley had sent a team out to help move everyone out of their safehouses on the southern coast. Kingsley hadn't acted like the information Malfoy had provided was important when she delivered it, but a team had been dispatched that afternoon so she knew he at least wanted it checked out. He wasn't happy with the information Hermione had regarding their attack at Bristol, but that was mostly due to the fact the Death Eaters seemed to have no more information on suspects than the Order did. He'd grumbled about it for several seconds before dismissing her to return to the medical wing.

Almost twice a week, Hermione would meet with Malfoy at Grimmauld Place. They didn't always leave and sometimes all Malfoy had was a passing bit of information to hand over, but Hermione still insisted they meet in case something changed. When Malfoy asked her to meet him at Grimmauld Place late on a Wednesday evening, Hermione knew something had changed.

She arrived at the same time he did despite having spent a few extra minutes convincing Harry she was just going to pull a night shift at the medical wing. Malfoy stumbled into a wall as he landed, earning a raised eyebrow from Hermione who hardly wobbled. When he stepped forward, she noticed a slight limp but didn't say anything.

"Mulciber started it," he told her. Hermione wrinkled her forehead in confusion for a second before realising what he was talking about. "Tonight at the revel. There were only half a dozen, but Granger, it's not good."

"No slave trade is 'good', Malfoy," Hermione reminded him. Malfoy scowled, but winced shortly after which ruined the effect. "What? Did you get cursed hurrying here to tell me?"

"None of your business. I'm here, aren't I?" Malfoy bit back. Hermione narrowed her eyes but didn't push him further.

"Back to Mulciber," Hermione told him and Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"Tonight's sale is long finished, but there's another in two days," he said. Friday night, Hermione realised. "Mulciber struck a deal with Yaxley to use one of his properties in the north, so that's where the next one will be. We'll have to leave here no later than eight so do make sure you don't get held up. You'll probably want to build those bombs again as well."

Hermione blinked at him, not having expected such a plan. Malfoy seemed to take her silence for agreement, though, which she supposed was better than assuming the opposite.

"Have you mentioned this to Shacklebolt?" he asked. Hermione shook her head, but Malfoy seemed happy with the answer. "Best not to, I suppose. He'd send an army in when what he needs is something much quieter."

"I'll need information to give Kingsley on Friday night if you don't want him to get suspicious," Hermione told him. Leaving that early in the night left too much time for Kingsley to call on her and she didn't want to risk him asking Harry and Ron while she was gone. The less people who noticed her missing at dinner, the better.

"Antonin Dolohov is developing a new potion for—"

"Tell me later," Hermione interrupted. She was almost certain to forget between now and the time she told Kingsley. It would be better to wait. "You're certain your disappearance from the revel tonight won't be noticed?"

"I never stay long anyway," Malfoy assured her. He raised a hand as if to wave the worry away and Hermione saw a flicker of a grimace cross his face. His other hand moved to his side but he gave her a sharp look to keep her from asking. Hermione scowled.

"I am a healer, Malfoy," she informed him. Had she mentioned that to him before? She wasn't sure. "If you're hurt, the least I can do is tell you if you're dying."

"I'm not dying," Malfoy said, making Hermione roll her eyes. "If you must know, my father was in a rather foul mood this evening and I was on the end of a nasty slicing curse."

Hermione frowned. As far as she could tell, he wasn't bleeding anywhere so he must have healed it at least a slight bit. The way he was clearly still in pain, however, was not a good sign.

"How did you heal it?" she asked.

"It's taken care of," he said, making it clear he didn't want to talk about it anymore. Although Hermione was still curious—not worried, she told herself—she dropped the subject.

"Is that all?" she asked. Malfoy nodded. "Write if anything else comes up, but I'll take tomorrow to build more bombs. How many do you think we'll need?"

"Enough to level a building the same size as the Manor," Malfoy told her. Hermione briefly recalled the one time she'd seen Malfoy Manor and mentally calculated how she'd need to place the bombs to efficiently destroy a building of that size.

"Alright," she said, settling on the number in her head. She made eye contact with Malfoy and said, "See you in two days."

He nodded in reply and they both apparated away. Hermione made sure to land just outside her tent instead of traipsing all through the camp. Harry, Ron, and Ginny were all still awake when she arrived and looked at her in surprise.

"They didn't need me," she said, keeping up the facade of having gone to the medical wing. She'd thought she'd be gone longer, but it hadn't even been thirty minutes since she disappeared. No one voiced the suspicion she could clearly see on their faces, however, so she joined them on the floor and asked after all their days, pushing the thoughts of Mulciber's slave trade to the back of her mind.

* * * * *

Hermione spent Thursday afternoon building three new bombs for the following evening. She waited until Friday around lunch before informing Kingsley she would be meeting that evening with their contact if there was any specific information he needed. As expected, he only wanted information on the attack on Bristol from several days ago as well as any information on the wards the Death Eaters had set up along the southern coast. Once she was dismissed, Hermione returned to the medical tent in an attempt to distract herself until it was time to leave for Grimmauld Place.

When she apparated to Grimmauld Place, Harry, Ron, and Ginny were still at dinner so she didn't try to explain where she was going. Instead, she grabbed her bag and arrived in the hallway of Grimmauld Place minutes before Malfoy appeared. He grimaced as he landed and Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"Don't," he snapped before she could say anything. "How many bombs do you have?"

"Three," Hermione answered. As long as wherever they were going wasn't protected with ancient ley lines, they should be just as successful as they had been in Bristol. Yet there was one thing Hermione still worried about. "What are you planning on doing about the slaves? We can't let them die there too."

"I wasn't planning on it," Malfoy answered. Just like he had at Bristol, he waved his wand to create a replica of where they were going. Using his wand to point to each room, he said, "I'm fairly certain the slaves will be held here until the sale. They were held in the dungeons at Yaxley's Manor as well, so it seems like the most reasonable assumption. Here is where the sales will actually take place." Hermione followed his wand and mentally memorised the map in front of her as he spoke. "I can't be seen helping you, so I'll set the bombs while you get those in the dungeons out. I imagine you have a place you can take them?"

"Yes, there's an Order safehouse that will take them in," Hermione confirmed. Depending on the number of slaves, she'd take them to two separate locations so as not to overwhelm a single safehouse. However, if there were just a few like Malfoy mentioned before, that would not be necessary.

"Perfect," Malfoy said. He held out his hand and said, "I'll take the bombs; you show me where to place them."

Hermione handed over her satchel, briefly explaining that it had been magically enlarged, but as long as he focused on finding the bombs, they should come straight to him. Malfoy slipped the bag over his head, casting a concealment charm over it and hiding it under his cloak. With a notice-me-not charm on the small lump under his cloak, it was impossible to tell he was carrying a bottomless bag with him.

"Since there are only three," she explained, lighting her wand to point on the map, "You'll need to place one here, one here, and the last here. We should set a time to detonate them so we're both sure to be out. Once you've set them, how long will I have to get the slaves out?"

"Half an hour," Malfoy told her. Hermione frowned and opened her mouth to say that wasn't enough time, but Malfoy shook his head. "There's sure to be someone down there anyway, but Mulciber will only leave the dungeons for half an hour to eat and make a speech before the sale begins. I'll be expected to make appearances long before then, so you'll have to apparate with me and then stay hidden. I'll write in the notebook when it's safe."

"How long will I have to wait?" Hermione asked, already restless at the thought. Sitting in a Death Eater manor was not how she wanted to spend her evening.

"Two hours at least," Malfoy answered. Hermione opened her mouth in protest and scowled at him.

"We're blowing the place up," she reminded him. "Surely you can "make appearances" for a shorter amount of time."

"If you want to risk my cover, be my guest," Malfoy hissed, scowling back at her just as fiercely. "However, I don't fancy being the Dark Lord's next plaything so I'll be working to keep appearances up just in case."

Hermione glared at him and crossed her arms but didn't argue further. However annoying he was, he was right and the Order did still need him. If Kingsley found out Hermione had lost their one contact with the other side, he'd have her head.

"Fine," she hissed, tapping her wand impatiently against her arm. "Where am I supposed to wait?"