"Harry Potter is dead!" A dark laugh echoed through the silence, and shackles seemed to materialize out of nowhere. They clung to his ankles, holding him in place as everything around him began to crumble. He stared at Potter, eyes closed and body unmoving. He looked, for all the world, asleep but Draco knew better than to think that. He wasn't stupid. That pathetic boy was dead, and now he was going to be buried under his lovely little school. The corpse that lay in the courtyard would probably never leave that spot. The place it cluttered used to be so lively; students that he loathed ran around and threw playful spells at the columns or at friends between classes. Now, it would play as the grave of every wizard and witch here that didn't adhere to Voldemort's demands.

He was fucking screwed.

Why the hell did Potter let himself get killed? He was supposed to be the chosen one, the wizard that killed the Dark Lord and annoyed Malfoy. He was supposed to clean up this mess so that Draco didn't have to choose a side, didn't have to carry this burden on his shoulders. But, no. The blimey idiot had to go and get himself killed. Dead. He was rotting right now as the snake in front of Hogwarts gave his final offer to those who weren't allied with him yet.

"Draco."

Please, someone tell him that wasn't his name being spoken. He glanced at the person closest to him: Luna Lovegood, like that loon had been the one to utter his name. She didn't seem like she had.

"Draco, come." His heart lurched, cringed. Would the damn thing just die already?

He glanced over to where his mother and father were, saw the outstretched hand of his mum, the unraveling sanity in Lucius's eyes. He contemplated ignoring the calls, of staying where he was, of doing what was right. But what exactly was right? Leaving his mother with that disgrace of a wizard? If he stayed on this side, Narcissa would have to watch him die. Because that's what happened to those who tried to play the hero: they died. He was no good to anyone dead, especially not himself.

There was a sand-like quality to his throat when he moved his right foot towards his mother. A glass-like quality when he moved his left. Every pair of eyes were on him as he left the dead to meet their maker, knowing there were a pair he didn't want to make contact with. Not now, especially not now.

And as soon as he'd found his way to his family, hell's gates opened and the devil began to dance on the living.

-3 months after the Battle of Hogwarts-

"Fleur!" Hermione called, out of breath but smiling all the same as she came barreling through the front door of Shell Cottage. The small seaside home had been expanded; rooms added here and there and reflecting lovingly the way the Burrow once looked before it fell to Bellatrix Lestrange's attack only a day after their defeat at Hogwarts. The cottage's beige walls and warm, comforting furniture now held the name of the Order headquarters. Being inside the city of London was too dangerous now, deatheaters and dementors alike cluttering the streets in search for the last of the rebellion. What Voldemort and his followers didn't know was that the Order was no longer scrounging for members. Swiftly, their numbers were increasing as the darkness spread through Europe over the past three months. The Order found allies in more and more countries, beseeching the end of Voldemort's destruction.

One of the Order's allies now sat, perched and refined on the raggedy couch in the front room with his companions. His warm eyes looked over Hermione and a gentle smile lifted the chiseled lines of his face. Viktor Krum had flocked over to her and the rebellion's aid as soon as word had reached Bulgaria of the Battle of Hogwarts, bringing with him a fleet of ships loaded with wizards and witches who would gladly fight alongside the Order for their cause.

Hermione's flushed cheeks glared red at the smoldering look in his eyes and she briefly sent a smile towards him. Turning back to her friend, Hermione tried to finish catching her breath long enough to speak coherently. Dainty hands were rubbing at the frazzled witch's arms, helping her calm down, and not a harsh word was shared. The relationship between the two witches had flourished through the months, despite constantly being cramped in the same place together. Everyone here had been united to find the means to one end, and that was enough to settle any differences; especially the materialistic ones that had kept Fleur and Hermione from ever contemplating a friendship. Now, they were each other's confidants, along with Ginny and Luna who were, unfortunately not there to hear the news Hermione carried.

"Kingsley," Hermione gasped. "Kingsley, he's here-"

"What?" The entire room erupted before the witch could finish, Fleur included. Already, eyes were searching for the invisible wizard, who'd been considered dead for two weeks after a failed attack against deatheaters at the Ministry. Many who were clustered about in the front room now had been there, since it was no small job. The Ministry, technically, was no more. It had fallen completely the same day Hogwarts had. Deatheaters controlled from within, many employees having fled their jobs in fear. It was all reflected in the building, from the monument of supremacy over muggles in the foyer to the chill that swallowed the Ministry whole.

It had been a wonder any of them had made it out after an informant on their side warned the deatheaters beforehand of the attack. It was Aberforth Dumbledore and Kingsley who'd held the deatheaters back as Hermione and the rest of the Order retreated. Neither had been heard from since, until now.

"No, listen!" Hermione cried out, finally regaining her composure. She stood straight, trying to grasp control of the situation as it quickly spiraled downwards. Everyone was talking, at the same time, and a few members were bickering over the possibility of Kingsley being alive.

She was turning red again, this time in frustration, as she called for them to quiet down.

"Please, quiet! Everyone, settle do-QUIET!" And still, on they spoke as if she wasn't even there. As always.

Finally, she pulled out her wand and expunged the light in the room, engulfing them in darkness with the exception of the small amount of sun peeking through the window coverings.

Immediately, there was silence. As soon as she was sure there wouldn't be another breath drawn without her condoning it, Hermione turned the lights back on and cleared her throat.

"I didn't mean here, as in within the premises," Hermione corrected, to their dismay. Fleur and Krum looked attentively at her, though it seemed they already knew what she was going to say. It was written in the grimaces on their faces.

"Kingsley is being held by deatheaters for interrogation-"

"Where?" A voice called from the stairs. Hermione turned, already scowling from being interrupted again. When she caught a red flash of ruffled hair, though, the scowl swiftly vanished. She was, by now, used to Ron's impatience. And apparently, he knew it too; he flinched under her scrutiny.

"Malfoy manor," was all Hermione had to say before an uproar began once more in the room.

"Bloody hell, are you kidding me?" Seamus blurted out, his face scrunched up in disbelief as he flicked over a chess piece he'd been moving on coffee table's game and glowered at a wall. Neville, who he'd been playing was frowning too.

"Are you sure, 'Moine?" He asked, hoping as she did that maybe, just maybe she'd been misinformed. But, so far, her leak from London had been nothing but truthful about the movements of deatheaters.

"Yeah, how can you trust that this information is true? You don't even know who your informant is," Fleur chimed in, though Hermione could see her friend working it out in her head.

"And why wouldn't it be? Kingsley was, without a doubt, the head of the Order after the Battle. Where else would he be except under the dark lord's watch? They'll be trying, he'll be trying, to get information out of Kingsley about our whereabouts and numbers," Hermione reasoned with those who doubted the news. "If he's alive, if you can even call it that, where else would he be?"

"Hermione, perhaps he is dead," Viktor said. "Perhaps this is a trap."

"No. This same person warned us about Grimmauld being attacked the week after Hogwarts. If whoever this is wanted us dead, we would have been so a very long time ago. Trust, Viktor. Trust, Fleur, Neville, everyone! Trust is all we have now, in only a few, and if we lose that, we're already defeated. We need to trust that Kingsley is alive, before our doubt leads to his death. We've already lost too many."

All her friends' eyes were on her, Ron's the most piercing as they all relived the deaths of their loved ones.

"Kingsley is a prisoner now because he trusted the wrong people," Another voice spoke out, Ginny having materialized in the kitchen doorway with her parents in tow, after picking up supplies for the group. She still looked so fragile, her skin the color of porcelain, but her eyes were strong. "The only thing we have going for us is the ability to distrust anything and everything. We need more proof. You, of all people, should know that believing isn't enough."

"Ginny," Hermione called out, but her friend was already walking past her as a baby's cry from upstairs required the Weasley's attention. Hermione sighed, more exhausted than she was when she'd first rushed in with her owl's post.

A warm hand landed on her shoulder as the crowd dispersed, discussing the possibility of doing a rescue mission. Hermione melted into the touch and leaned back on the able body behind her.

"She's still healing," Ron tried his hand at comforting as he rubbed her shoulder. He was actually getting better at it over time. Being surrounded by hormonal women in wartime seemed to do strange, wonderful things to men. They really had no choice but to play the calming role, or face the wrath of crazed lunatics. At least, when it came to Hermione and a few others that seemed to be the case.

"I know," Hermione sighed as she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. The soft rhythm of her friend's heartbeat helped sooth her jumbled nerves.

"Do you really trust what this person is telling you?" He asked cautiously, probably already regretting asking such a trigger-happy person that question. Was she really that catatonic lately?

With a small smile, Hermione opened her eyes to look up at Ron's contorted face. "Ron. I'm not going to hex you," she laughed as his muscles relaxed. "But, yes I do. Whoever this is, they want to help. And after everything Snape did, how could you even ask?"

"I know, I know but," Ron trailed off, frowning. Hermione leaned away from Ron's body and turned to face him, returning the frown.

"What?" She probed. He grimaced, his hand, naked without her shoulder under it, reached for his neck and rubbed at it. "Ron," she warned.

"Not everyone is Snape, 'Mione," he rushed out, flinching back automatically as Hermione puffed up.

"I know that, Ron. Do you think I'm an idiot? Because I assure you, Ron Weasley, that I am not. He-"

"-or she," he interrupted with a weak smile. Hermione's glare wiped the smile right off.

"or she, has saved our lives multiple times. Now, he or she is trying to save another life and you, of all people, still doubt the sincerity? I know we can't just jump in and save him, Ron, but we can't leave him for dead either. If there's even a possibility that Kingsley is alive and that my information is true, then we have the obligation to rescue him. Bloody hell, Ron. Kingsley sacrificed himself for the cause and you all just want to let him rot?"

For some reason, Hermione couldn't see. Was her vision going?

"'Mione… please don't cry," Ron softly said and the touch of his hand against her cheek snapped her back into reality from her rant.

Frantically, she wiped at her eyes until she could see Ron's concerned face. She scowled at him, frustrated with him but mostly with herself for letting her feelings resurface once again.

"I won't let yet another person give up their life to that monster for us. We're going to devise a plan and we're going to save him." And with that, she was off, trailing up the stairs and following the sound of a distant murmur of a lullaby.

The floor panels creaked softly under her sneakers as Hermione moved about the second floor, her eyes locked on the light blue room at the far left corner. There was a soft song coming from inside, the person attached to the melody's voice moving back and forth in front of the doorway with a bundle in her arms.

"My sweet dove,

the lone willow yearns for love.

Up high above the valley,

it admires you and me.

The roots that hold it down,

To us it does not bound."

The small smile on Ginny's face held the lively baby's attention, the beaming eyes of Teddy Lupin captivated by the red hair of his godmother. A tiny, chubby hand reached up for a strand and they both giggled as the long tendrils tickled his nose.

A creak from beyond broke the bond momentarily as Ginny turned to catch the spying witch at the door. The ghost of a smile lingered for a moment before faltering and vanishing from sight. This, Hermione reminded herself painfully, was the norm since Harry's death.

"Ginny," Hermione started warily. Ginny's was already shaking her head, giving Teddy all of her attention and casting Hermione aside. "Ginny, please. I know you're still hurting, but I need your support," she begged, moving into the room as her friend put Teddy back into his crib. He complained by scowling and tugging on Ginny's sleeve, grabbing a finger and putting it into his mouth. The tentative smile reappeared.

"Hermione, you can trust blindly all you want but I'm not going to say this is okay. You know better," Ginny commented, still not looking at her. Hermione scowled and moved to the crib. Teddy, ecstatic, grabbed Hermione's fingers with his other greedy hand and began to toy with the two women, using their fingers as puppets. His blue hair turned bright pink, a bittersweet reminder of his mother's vivacious personality.

"Do I, Ginny? There are only a handful of people I trust fully, and I don't take any of this lightly so, yes, I guess I do know better. I know what I'm doing and it's not trusting blindly. Just because I don't have a name doesn't mean this entire thing is faulty," she murmured, not wanting to unsettle the baby or, worse, Ginny.

Teddy was now trying to connect the two fingers, gaining a humored smile from both of his ladies.

"It has nothing to do with a name. It's just that," Ginny sighed, pulling her finger out of Teddy's grasp and laying him down. With a flick of her wand, his mobile came to life, little dragons created by George circling above his head as she lured him to sleep with a gentle rubbing of his stomach.

"What?" Hermione probed.

"It's just that I don't want you to get your hopes up about this, is all."

"You think he's dead, don't you?" Hermione guessed.

"Isn't that what tends to happen to those who sacrifice themselves? They die. Now, you're about to do exactly that but you're going to pull in everyone else. We're only just starting to regain structure after the Ministry, after Hogwarts. People are still mending wounds, still trying to mourn. We'll just end up walking into our graves, and Kingsley will be greeting us on the other side."

Now that Teddy was nodding off, Ginny was trying to make an escape. Hermione advanced, blocking the doorway to the redhead's annoyance. "Hermione, you're being ridiculous. Let me through," she grumbled, crossing her arms. The other witch mimicked her, arms crossed and poised to argue until she got her way.

"Ginny, you're not the only one hurt by what happened."

"Really? Because by the looks of it, I am," she retorted, the blaze in her eyes a warning for Hermione to back off. But, it was also an encouragement. For once, Hermione saw life in her friend. That was all she wanted.

"Some of us just express it differently, you ignorant twat. I thought that you, out of everyone here besides myself and Ron, would want to avenge Harry's death but instead you're turning into a hermit!"

A small gurgle from the crib had Hermione biting back her exclamation.

"For the love of Merlin, shut your mouth!" Ginny hissed as she pulled Hermione out of Teddy's room. She closed the door behind her, and commenced glaring at Hermione. "And I am notturning into a hermit."

"Are too."

"Are not."

"Are too."

"Are not!" Ginny howled. Her mouth gaped and Hermione smirked. There was silence.

And then there was a horrendous cry from within the room behind them. Ginny's eyes narrowed into slits.

"I swear, I'm going to get you for this, Hermione," she growled before going back into the bedroom.

"Looking forward to it," Hermione chimed, pleased with herself as Ginny flipped her off before turning her attention fully on the baby.

"So, I heard the fight earlier," Ron chimed as he plopped down on the couch beside Hermione while she continued to scribble out a horrible illustration of the Malfoy Manor based on Luna's descriptions from her time in captivity there a few months ago. Viktor, sitting on the armchair opposite the three of them gave a chuckle.

"I think everyone did," he remarked, quickly ducking his head behind a spell book when Hermione looked up. She glared at the book's bindings before turning to Ron.

"Do you think she's improving any?" Hermione asked.

"…and there was this peculiar picture just outside the basement, a painting of a woman with eyes that didn't line up," Luna rambled on. Hermione raised a hand in her direction.

"Luna, hold on please."

"She is, maybe. I mean, before she'd just ignore us. Now she's talking. Well, yelling mostly but that's the sister I'm used to having. Actually, I'm starting to miss the whole ignoring part," Ron grumbled.

"Oh, are you?" Both Ron and Hermione shot up, doe-eyed as they spotted Ginny by the staircase. She walked towards them and sat down in the other seat beside Viktor.

"Um, um, uh. Hermione was just, um," Ron stammered, finally shutting up when Hermione stepped on his foot ever so discreetly.

"Ron was just being stupid," Hermione spoke up, her eyes studying Ginny carefully. The redhead raised an eyebrow, humored by the caution with which her friends proceeded.

"When isn't he being stupid?" She replied. Hermione, face suspicious, morphed into a smile. Ginny cleared her throat, the silence in the room growing more and more with the sheer normality of her discussion.

Even Luna was, for once, quiet.

"Well then, I see where I stand in all of this," Ron grumbled, mocking a frown. And like that, they were all laughing. Ginny smiled unsurely, gingerly as her eyes locked on Hermione.

"Welcome back," Hermione mouthed, clinging onto her friend's brief show of joy.

And for a moment, everything seemed alright.