“Well, that settles that,” Ron Weasley announced, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up onto the desk.

“What are you talking about?” Harry Potter wondered, his forehead crinkling in thought.

“If Malfoy was the source, there’s no WAY he’s telling the truth. We’ll have to man everywhere else instead.” Ron shook his head angrily and sat up. “Nice plan he’s got. It’ll keep us on our toes for days, trying to figure out how we can have Aurors at every major wizard spot simultaneously.”

“I don’t think he was lying,” Hermione stated hesitantly, chewing on her bottom lip. “I think he’s seriously denouncing.”

Harry turned slowly towards her; it was clear he was shocked at her pronouncement, and did nothing to hide it. “You believe him?”

Instead of answering directly, Hermione chose a different route. “How old are we now?”

Ron and Harry exchanged quick glances, and then both looked at her, obviously confused.

“Last time I checked you were the smart one,” Ron commented lightly, tapping a quill against his large mahogany desk; Hermione gave him her best ‘no nonsense‘ look and he rolled his eyes. “We’re twenty-six. Give or take a few days.”

“Right.” Hermione stood up and began walking slowly back and forth on the plush midnight-purple carpet that covered every floor in the building (except the main hallways downstairs). “So, being twenty-six, you should think we’d be mature.” She looked at them pointedly. “Correct?”

“I suppose. But you are talking about us. I don‘t know how many times you‘ve told us both we have Peter Pan complexes.” Harry reminded her, shifting in his chair. “I think you’ve told Ron more than you’ve told me though,” he added, more to himself than the others.

Ron scoffed. “And I still don’t know what she means by that.”

“Read the book,” Hermione stated offhandedly. She stopped pacing. “I was told once that we have to take every bit of outsider information we get very seriously. I don’t care if it’s Draco Malfoy or not, I’m going to believe him. We’ll regret it if it turns out he was steering us in the right direction the entire time.” She plopped down into her seat beside Harry, feeling very old all of a sudden. “We’ve lost so many places over the years. We can’t let them get Hogwarts, too.”

She realized her eyes were glistening with tears, and horrified, wiped them away the best she could, hoping the boys hadn’t noticed; they hadn’t.

“All right,” Ron replied, standing up; his boots made a large thud as they hit the carpeted floor. “We’ve got to go to Dumbledore, then.”

“I’ll go,” Harry replied, running a hand through his unkempt hair and sighing. “You two get the other Aurors notified. We need everybody this time.”

With that, the head Auror left the room in two quick strides and disappeared down the hallway.

Ron and Hermione turned to one another; Ron looked resigned while Hermione did all she could to hold it together.

“If he denounces, they’re going to kill him,” Ron stated, his voice stoic as he went back behind his desk and ruffled through some papers.

“I know.” Her voice was quiet, and she wasn’t sure why, but she felt hollow inside.

“I’ve never liked him, I won’t pretend I‘ve changed, but I’ve seen what they do to the betrayers.” An involuntary shudder went through him. “And I wouldn’t wish it on anybody; not even him.”

Hermione got up and threw her arms around Ron’s neck, catching him so off-guard that he fell back into his chair. “You have changed,” she whispered, pulling herself together and standing back up; she smoothed her skirt, a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

Ron didn‘t look away from her, despite the fact that he desperately wanted to. “What did he say to you.”

“I don’t think he’s changed, but…” she bit her bottom lip in thought, her eyes floating around the room as she gathered her words together. “…I think he’s scared.”

“He has changed if he’s going to go against his father’s wishes.” Ron shook his head, running a hand through his hair, which was in desperate need of a trim; it was down to his shoulders now, and flipping out at the ends. Every time he saw his mother, she threatened him with her scissors, just like she’d done with Bill years ago. “I don’t think I’m wrong in assuming Malfoy’ll be torn into pieces.”

Hermione shivered, picturing this image in her head; she looked down at her hands, which were twisting themselves into knots. “I wish it didn’t have to be like that.”

Ron didn’t speak for a few moments, and Hermione was afraid she’d upset him; she chanced a look up and saw he was staring at her intently.

“It probably doesn’t have to be,” Ron replied begrudgingly. “We can probably protect him.”

Hermione’s eyes lit up. “What do you mean?”

He sighed heavily and leaned his head back against his chair. To the ceiling, he said, “By the code of Merlin, anyone who gives us legit information to his or her own life’s disregard, we’re obligated to provide them with full-time guards. If they want them.”

“Like the Witness Protection Program?”

Ron relaxed his head and looked at her. “I don’t know what that is, but it sounds about right.”

Hermione’s lips curved into a smile. “You should have taken Muggle Studies.”

Ron laughed hoarsely. “Don’t start.”

The smile fell off her lips so suddenly that it was like it had been erased with a super-duper pencil eraser. “He won’t like that.”

Ron looked up from where he’d been examining a report. “Nope.”

She thought for a moment; it was quiet while he read, and while she stared at her shoes, trying to figure out a solution.

Ron‘s voice cut through her thoughts a few moments later. “Maybe you should figure out why you want to help him, before you try and figure out how.”

“I don’t know when you became so smart,” Hermione replied haughtily, standing up and going towards the door. “But I’m not so sure I like it.”

He smiled up at her, giving her an ‘aw shucks’ sort of hand movement. “I don’t know when it happened either. It might just be a passing thing.”

“I’ll go put out the bulletin,” she replied, her voice quiet. “And I’ll try and contact him after that.”

“Good luck with that,” Ron remarked dryly as she shut the door behind her.