Hermione was surprised at how her routine meetings with Malfoy seemed to be easier after that. While he was not as friendly with her as Ron or Harry, he was certainly not as cold as when they used to meet. She recognised his sarcasm as more teasing than biting and she found herself subconsciously watching him for any signs of pain. He continued to refuse her help even when he arrived with a cut across his forehead, but Hermione took to dropping bits of healing advice into their conversations to combat his excessive need to be okay.

A week after they'd destroyed Yaxley's manor, however, Malfoy arrived with a visible limp and a tremor in his hands that Hermione could not ignore.

"What happened?" she demanded, staring at him as he held a parchment between them. The tremor hadn't been that noticeable at first, but when Hermione had reached for the parchment, it had shaken enough she knew something was wrong.

"I'm not—"

"It's cruciatus and I know it," she interrupted. She summoned a chair from the dining room and it came screeching into the room, stopping right at Malfoy's heels. "Sit down and tell me what happened or so help me, Draco Malfoy, I will apparate you to the Order myself."

Malfoy scowled at her and stuffed the parchment back in his robes as he sat in the chair. Hermione stepped forward and held out her hand for his, something he didn't seem to immediately pick up on. He stared at her for several seconds before Hermione gave up on waiting and snatched his hand out of his lap.

"Hey—"

"Talk," she demanded, looking at the hand she now held between both of hers.

She splayed his fingers out so his hand was flat and glared down at his hand as if it had personally offended her before slowly starting to massage it. Malfoy yanked his hand away from her and she scowled at him.

"Give me back your hand," she ordered, holding out one of her hands.

"I'll either tell you what happened or give you my hand," Malfoy argued, protectively tucking both of his hands in his robes. "You have to choose."

Hermione fumed, but she didn't need to think about which option she'd choose.

"Hand. Now," she said. Malfoy huffed and held out his hand, pointedly ignoring her gaze as he did so. "Thank you."

In the dead silence of the room, Hermione began massaging Malfoy's hand like she'd done for some of the patients in the hospital wing of the Order. It was a miracle she'd actually found the method buried in ancient medical books, but when she'd managed to uncover it, she'd spent a full ten hours moving between the beds of cruciatus patients and massaging their hands until hers were stiff and cramped.

"Why are you doing that?" Malfoy asked, his voice tight. Hermione glanced at him to see him staring at his own hand in hers.

"It helps," she said, not sure if he cared for the full explanation or not.

"Yeah, but how?" he asked. He glanced up for a second but the moment his eyes locked on hers, he looked back at his hand.

"Your hands have the most nerve endings in your body," Hermione answered, looking back down at Malfoy's hand and continuing to massage it. "The cruciatus curse targets your nerves when it's cast and has lasting effects as the curse works its way through your body. Massaging the hands of a cruciatus victim chases the lasting effects away faster and can prevent further damage."

"Can there be permanent side effects?" Malfoy asked quietly. Hermione's fingers paused at the question but she didn't look up at him.

"Yes," she said quietly, resuming the massage. "If a person receives the cruciatus curse multiple times, they could develop permanent tremors in their hands. The massage can help, but after so many times, the tremors are permanent."

The room went silent as Hermione finished massaging Malfoy's left hand then took his right hand. He didn't protest and Hermione continued to work silently until he spoke up again.

"How many times until it's irreversible?" he asked. Hermione shrugged. The book hadn't said.

"I guess you don't know until it's too late," she answered, applying a bit more pressure when she felt his fingers twitch. "There's no real pattern to it, but you do have to use magic."

She lifted one of her hands to show Malfoy the way her fingertips glowed slightly.

"How do you do that?" he asked.

"Wandless magic," she said with a small smirk. Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I just imagine my magic moving to my fingers and it does." She shrugged. "I don't know how else to describe it."

She finished with his second hand then took a step back to give him space. He flexed his hands out in front of him and Hermione was pleased to see they weren't shaking anymore. She'd spent a little extra time on each hand since she knew he was likely no stranger to the curse, but she didn't need to tell him that. Instead, she took the time to send the chair back to the dining room. When she looked back at Malfoy, he was pulling the parchment from his robes again and offering it to her.

"Information on Mulciber's slave trade movements," he explained shortly. Hermione nodded and tucked it into her robes securely. "There's another one scheduled a few days from now, but they've made some changes to the revels."

"Oh?" Hermione asked. She'd expected as much after Malfoy had told her what had happened the last time. Unfortunately, most everyone had apparated before the bombs had gone off due to the five minute delay between the time Malfoy triggered them and the time they went off. Only a few younger Death Eaters that hadn't gotten the message had been lost in the rubble.

"They've designated the Carrows' manor in Newcastle for when the trade takes place," Malfoy told her. "They spent the week casting wards all around the property to prevent apparation of anyone who doesn't bear the dark mark. Side along apparation is an option I believe, but there's no guarantee it won't register your magical core and alert everyone to your presence."

"Is there a way you could find out where they keep the captives before they're moved to Newcastle?" Hermione asked. Wards were tricky to get around and she'd rather not risk them, but if there was no other way, she'd do it. "Surely Mulciber has to keep them locked up somewhere."

Malfoy hummed, admitting it would be difficult but he could probably figure something out.

"If I'm the only one Mulciber tells, though, I'm not telling you," he warned. Hermione wanted to argue, but she knew it would be too risky. Mulciber would know he'd told someone if all the captives disappeared and there would be no doubt who the spy for the Order was.

"Fine," she agreed. "Anything you can find out about the wards around Newcastle too. Maybe I can find a way around them."

Malfoy chuckled to himself and nodded as he said, "If anyone could, it'd be you."

Hermione grinned and pulled out her wand to prepare to apparate. Malfoy stuffed his hands in the pockets of his robes and watched her fiddle with the parchment she'd stuffed in her own robes for a moment. When she was certain it was secure, she tossed her braid over her shoulder from where it had fallen in front of her and looked at Malfoy with a small grin.

"See you in a few days," she said. Malfoy nodded once before she apparated to just outside Kingsley's tent.

Stuffing her wand back in its holster, Hermione stepped into Kingsley's tent and looked around. It was completely empty, something she hadn't expected at all. She took another step into the tent, looking around the room more and even calling out Kingsley's name but there was no reply. Confused, she turned on her heel to leave only for Kingsley to come walking through the tent flap and almost run right into her.

"Miss Granger," he said, looking surprised to see her. "Finally come back to the Order, have you?"

"That does that mean?" Hermione asked. Kingsley moved forward toward his desk, pausing in front of Hermione but she did not move. Giving her a slightly irritated look, he very pointedly stepped around her to get to his desk.

"You've spent several evenings away from the camp," he said as if she wasn't aware of this herself. "Don't think I haven't noticed. Something tells me it's not just to get information from the Order's unknown spy."

"I bring back information every time," Hermione said. She pulled the parchment from her robes to emphasize her point and set it on his desk. "There's no other reason for me to leave the camp."

"You say that, but I have other safehouses that reported rescued—excuse me, escaped—slaves before you brought information regarding this slave trade Mulciber has set up," Kingsley said. He took the parchment she'd given him, but didn't take his eyes off of her as he spoke. "I want to trust you, Hermione, but you must admit things aren't looking too good."

"Whatever you're implying, you can say outright," Hermione told him sharply. She'd made certain there was no reason for him to be suspicious and unless one of the captives had said something about her in particular, Kingsley had nothing on her.

"I know you're intelligent, Miss Granger," Kingsley replied, sitting back in his seat. "It's why I chose you to be the contact."

"They chose me. You had no say."

Kingsley's eyes narrowed at the reminder but Hermione stood her ground.

"You don't like me because I used an Unforgivable in battle one time," Hermione hissed, leaning forward as she lowered her voice. "I have been nothing but loyal to the Order and would never use a member of the Order for my own agenda. If you can't seem to look past one choice I made that saved—"

"You used dark magic," Kingsley snarled, slamming his hands on his desk and jumping to his feet. Hermione leaned back slowly. "The Order is the one thing standing between the reign of the dark arts and freedom and I will not have my soldiers fighting dirty. Dark magic is a dangerous art and if you resort to it, you're no better than the Death Eaters who fight for Riddle."

Hermione glared at him but bit her tongue. She'd known he wasn't past her use of the killing curse months ago and riling him up would not help.

"I have not dirtied the Order's contact," Hermione told him tightly. "I have continued regular contact and reported all the information the day I get it. You may ask Madam Pomfrey or Harry himself, but you will find I've only ever been gone during the agreed upon times."

Kingsley glared at her darkly but Hermione glared back just as fiercely. The tent remained silent for several seconds and while it got tense, neither of them said a word. It wasn't until Harry came stumbling into the tent that Kingsley dropped his glare in favour of giving her one last look of warning and turning away.

"Hey, Kingsley, I—" Harry interrupted himself when he saw Hermione standing there and awkwardly pointed his thumb over his shoulder as he said, "I can come back later—"

"No need," Hermione interrupted, giving Harry a tight smile and glancing at Kingsley. "We were just finishing up."

"Oh, ok," Harry replied, clearly uncomfortable with the atmosphere he'd walked into. "Uh, Ginny's in the tent if you—if you want."

"Thank you, Harry," she said, walking past him and out of the tent without another word to Kingsley Shacklebolt.