Harry Potter: The Price of Silence.

18th November, 9 years after the Battle of Hogwarts

Silence.

Nothing.

Not a fucking sound.

Hermione took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and pressed herself into the stone wall behind her. She trained her ears on the quiet, waiting for the footsteps she knew were on their way towards her.

She just needed a second. Just a moment to catch the Death Eaters off guard and steal the artefact they carried. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they were moving it today. Knew this could be a chance to change the tide of the war, to wipe the slate clean and give the Order a new lease of life; a fighting chance - Merlin knew they needed it.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Neville whispered from beside her, his voice croaking nervously. "Are you sure they're moving it tonight?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I just am!" Hermione snapped, irritation prickling at her chest. She wished Neville would just shut up, now was not the time for a conversation.

She knew the artefact was being moved tonight, and was certain there would only be five Death Eaters guarding it.

Voldemort was trying something new. Likely thought fewer numbers would draw less attention, and therefore lower the risk of any unwanted interference.

It was being moved through a series of underground tunnels just outside of Derbyshire. A secret labyrinth-like maze with countless connections, which could lead to Chatsworth House, disused coal mines, or even as far as Sheffield. A perfect way to avoid being seen, but also an opportunity for the Order to sabotage them. Trap them in a maze like rats and steal the artefact. It was simply too good an opportunity to miss.

Hermione knew it was being transported tonight, because Medusa had told her.

Medusa, she snorted internally. What a ridiculous code name for a spy.

Medusa, the beauty who was seduced by Poseidon in the temple of Athena. Medusa, who enraged the Goddess so much, she punished her the only way she saw fit - by transforming her into a monster. Changing her hair into snakes, and giving her eyes so deadly they turned men to stone as soon as they looked upon her.

She had wondered if the mole was trying to be poetic. Metaphorical, even. If they were trying to demonstrate that they, too, had been seduced by Voldemort, by his power and promises of inconceivable strength. Whored themselves for him. Sold their souls to the devil in exchange for riches and wealth beyond imagination, and turned themselves into a monster in the process.

As much as she resented this ridiculous façade, Hermione couldn't deny that Medusa's intelligence was never wrong. They'd proven, time and time again, that they were incredibly useful to The Order. 'A valuable asset', 'irreplaceable' Shacklebolt had said. 'Of Unparalleled usefulness'.

She supposed her own code name, Lilith, wasn't that ambiguous either.

She'd picked it carefully, and purposefully. Lilith, the first woman, created for Adam in the garden of Eden. The woman who believed she was equal to Adam, and therefore she didn't need to lay beneath him. She wouldn't, in fact. Wouldn't bend to lower herself. She was strong, immovable in her beliefs.

They were qualities that Hermione always strove for in herself. Her Gryffindor courage and stubbornness had always planted her in the spot; unshakable in her beliefs that The Order had to win, that good had to conquer evil, and the war must end.

By whatever means necessary.

She'd met with Medusa many times to exchange information. Both concealed with their hoods, masks upon their face, and voice-altering charms cast on their voice boxes; doing everything in their power to conceal their identities.

She had no idea who they were. She knew he was a man from his staggering height and broad shoulders. His physique could only be described as that of a soldier; battle-hardened. It went beyond simply being toned, every muscle in his back and arms were defined and rippling with their deadly overuse.

Hermione and Medusa had probably shot countless curses at one another on the battlefield since the war began. They'd probably nearly killed each other a dozen times without realising it.

It was common practice for all Death Eaters to enchant their voice- boxes while on duty. And Medusa's had a deep bravado, the vibrating effects of the spell only adding to the masculine undertone. It was almost a growl most of the time; deep and controlled like a lion - but that was all she knew about him.

Hermione was the only soldier The Order deemed intelligent - and lethal enough - to be able to meet the opposition on neutral grounds and defend themselves if anything went wrong, should he change his mind and lure her into a trap.

That, or she was expendable enough. She suppressed a shudder.

She supposed Ron might have been selected if things were different, if the war had taken a different turn. But he hadn't been on a mission in years.....

With a tilt of her head, she signalled for Neville to get in position against the opposite wall, laying a trap for the Death Eaters on their way down the tunnels.

Neville's weary gaze locked on hers from the other side of the tunnel. He withdrew his wand, his jaw tight as he motioned with his chin towards the end of the hallway.

Hermione shook her head. "Not yet," she mouthed. She wasn't sure if Neville could see through the darkness. Hoped he could though.

They needed to be united if this mission was to be a success. They couldn't put a foot wrong. If they just stuck to the plan everything would be fine.

The pair were eclipsed in total silence again.

Hermione tapped the edge of her wand to the coin in her pocket, signalling that the others should be in position. It burned back in response; two sharp pulsations of heat. Finnigan and Creevey were ready.

Hermione took another deep breath through her nose, exhaling slowly out her mouth as she readied herself.

Then there it was, the sound she'd been waiting for.

Footsteps. The unmistakable click of boots hitting the flagstone, echoing, magnifying off the concrete walls of the narrow labyrinth they were passing through.

She made eye contact with Neville again. "Five," she mouthed.

"Four," he nodded.

"Three."

"Two," Neville responded when the footsteps got louder.

"One," she said silently before stepping forward and shooting an exploding hex at the left wall behind the Death Eaters. The stone crunched under the force of her spell. The impact shattered the immovable concrete and collapsed the wall, sealing the four assailants with Hermione and Neville.

The narrow corridor was engulfed in smoke and debris from the blast.

An eerie silence followed. There wasn't a sound. Nothing.