Chapter 2

The baby's cries echoed throughout the empty halls of Grimmauld place. Hermione stood in the hall for a moment, still uneasy of the constant chill in the air, and the science defying silence of the house. She had never wanted to be here, but after the war she had moved in with Harry and Ron. After all those months searching together it just felt right to stay with each other. All three of them were grieving and had a world to help rebuild. It was only meant to be temporary but four years on she still hadn't found the courage to set off on her own. They didn't need her anymore, but she still needed them.

She went into the kitchen and tried as best she could to transfigure one on the benches into something that resembled a cot. It was shabby and rushed and she was sure Professor McGonagall would have turned her nose up at it but it would have to do. Chucking a few old cushions in she gently placed the baby down, where he fussed for a moment but soon fell to sleep.

A thousand things to do – but she didn't know where to start. She wanted to shower, to change but that would have to wait. She had to speak to the ministry, she had to get the baby somewhere safe, she had responsibilities, as always, that needed to put above herself.

She walked towards the fire place and threw a handful of floo powder into it, gently kneeling she pushed her face into the green flames.

'Arthur Wealsey's Office – Ministry of Magic' she said clearly.

She watched as the green flames rippled and twirled, making her vision kaleidoscope until finally it stilled and she could see into the small familiar office of Mr Weasley.

Mr Weasley was sitting at his desk, his quill scratching viciously against parchment, ink sputtering and nib cracking under the pressure. She cleared her throat a few times before he noticed she was there. He shook his head as though she had woken him up from a day dream. She couldn't help but notice that his hair was looking greyer than ever, perhaps his next hair cut would finally cut away the last of his famous red hair, holding on for dear life right at the very tips. He looked as tired as Hermione felt.

'My dear,' He said, scooting his chair towards the fire place for a better view.

'I've been so worried I nearly sent one of the boys to fetch you. I've not heard from you in days!'

Hermione could not help but feel guilty, and the way he looked at her with real concern sent a pang of grief through her as she thought of her father.

'I'm sorry Arthur, I…I…. '

She couldn't say it out loud. Any of it. It would only make it true and she couldn't face that just yet.

'The hospital is no longer viable.' She sputtered.

'I know Hermione I know, I'm so sorry. I thought a lot of both of your parents, I hope you know that.'

Arthur had been the first to really make Hermione's parents feel even slightly intergraded into Hermione's life as a witch. He was as patient with their questions of the wizarding world as they were with his constant quest of muggle understanding. Mr Weasley looked as though he was going to say something else when he turned his attention towards the door.

Through the green haze she saw the office door swing open, the bottom of a royal blue robe swaying into view. The Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt himself, strode into the office. Ignoring Mr Weasley he walked straight to the fire place and peered down to face Hermione.

'We're calling everyone in Miss Granger, highest alert come through the floo now.'

' Minister, I've only just got back, I..'

He cut her off. 'It's an order I'm afraid, you need to come right now. I'm not moving this office until you come through.' Hermione could hear the desperation though the usual silkiness of his voice. Shacklebolt had always reminded Hermione of an accented Morgan Freeman, his voice pure tranquillity which made perfect for his election campaign. In a turbulent post war era, he was the stability and calm that everybody had wanted.

'Fine.' She said, pulling her head out of the flames and standing up.

She punched the fire place as hard as she could. She felt a knuckle split but it was numb. All of her was numb. She bit into her injured hand to keep herself from screaming and instead a wracking sob came out. She could feel herself crumbling. She had never felt so alone. Her hand began to throb and she was grateful. She focused in on the pain. She picked up a tea towel from the sink and wrapped it around her hand. She'd fix it later.

She chucked the baby bag over her shoulder and carefully she reached into the cot. Gritting her teeth she climbed into the green flames.

The Minister leaned against Arthur Weasley's desk. He took of his hat – royal blue with small silver stars- and placed it down.

Arthur watched him curiously, he had always held Kingsley in very high regard. He admired him as a minister, and even more as a friend. Arthur could tell there was something seriously wrong. Over the past week Shacklebolt had held his own amongst all of the turmoil. He had managed to keep things running as smoothly as possible, despite everything around him falling apart. But today Arthur really looked at him. He was unshaven, his clothes were wrinkled and there was a blankness in his face Arthur had never seen.

'What is it Kingsley?' said Arthur

Kingsley Shacklebolt stood up, at full height he was easily at least a head above Arthur.

'We can confirm that the virus is of magical origin.' Said Shacklebolt, his eyes looking at but not really seeing Mr Weasley.

'The corpses we have tested have shown positive for magical properties that have not been seen since the dark ages. And some things that we have never seen before. There is still so much we don't know, but this was no accident Arthur. This was caused by one of our own.'

Arthur sat back in his chair and stilled for a moment.

'Just when we thought the war was over.' He whispered.

Kingsley nodded.

'It is undeniable that this is dark magic, Arthur,' he paused, choosing his next words carefully. 'That's why yesterday I acquired some of the most informed minds in the matter.'

Arthur looked at him puzzled. He could detect a shade of guilt in Shacklebolt's face.

'Who Kinglsey?'

Shacklebolt almost looked away but steadied himself. He had done what needed to be done. And although he was proud of it, sometimes desperate situations called for desperate measures.

'Most were unwilling to co-operate-' he started, 'but at the moment we have Yaxley, Travers, Nott and Draco Malfoy.'

Arthur's face went red.

'You have bought death eaters into the Ministry at the time when we are most vulnerable? What were you thinking?'

'I was thinking that with most witches and wizards in the UK fleeing abroad and with no real experts in Dark Magic on hand that I was giving us the best chance.' Shacklebolt pleaded.

'Believe me Arthur it wasn't a decision I took lightly.'

The fire in the grate grew tall and emerald. A second later Hermione stepped out. The soot that now covered her only adding to her dishevelled appearance. Self admittingly, she looked a state.

Both men looked at her for a second taking her in.

'So Minister, what exactly was it that couldn't wait?'

She made a point to shift the baby in her arm. Mr Weasley was uncomfortable with how much she looked like Molly right before she sent a howler.

'Miss Granger,' The Minister finally spoke, 'There is a meeting in an hour in the main foyer. All staff are required to attend.'

She looked at him waiting to elaborate, but still the Minister stared at her silently.

'That's it?' she clenched her toes in her shoes trying to force herself to stay calm. It wasn't helping.

'Everything will be announced at the meeting Miss Granger, I am not at liberty to say any more then that right now.'

'Right.' Was all Hermione could muster. Her body was shaking and she could feel herself going red. She walked towards the door. 'I guess I'll see you then.' Hermione had never been one for sarcasm, she had always found it the least intelligent way to argue. So when Hermione smiled at them, the fakest, toothiest, lopsided grin, she surprised even herself. She didn't know she had it in her. She felt a little bit of satisfaction. She slammed the door behind her for good measure.

Still in the office the two men looked towards the closed door. Both of their mouth a little agape.

'I don't really know what just happened.' Said Arthur confused. 'Was Hermione holding a baby?'

The Minister nodded. 'Yes, yes I think she was.'

They both looked at each other but had no answers.

'You really should have left her to rest,' Arthur said still looking at the door.

'I wish I could, but something's coming Arthur this is only the start I can feel it.' Shacklebolt looked back at Arthur. 'I also fear this day is going to get a lot worse for Miss Granger.'

She pushed open the door with as much aggravation that she could muster, which transpired to be nothing more than a feeble shoulder shove. She leaned against the closed door, her head up and eyes closed counting to ten with as even breaths as she could manage. She wouldn't fall apart. Not yet. Not with so much left to do.

'Granger?'

Or perhaps she would.

That voice. Her eyes still shut she tried to place it. Familiar, but nearly forgotten. Memories tugged at the corners of her mind, snippets of a green and silver house tie, a white ferret bouncing in the court yard, a little boy using slanders he couldn't fully comprehend. The last time she had seen him – a young man, lost, tormented – walking across the rubble to his parents, his silver eyes turning back for just a second.

'Granger?'

Hermione shook her head.

Malfoy.

She opened her eyes. There he was, sitting at her bloody desk.

The cheek of it!

His hair was as white as she remembered, but it had been cut short. It looked less greasy and she regretted to admit that it suited him. He was taller, broader but still carried himself the same way. Standing straight, always peering down over his nose. His eyes were still bright and focused – full of an intelligence Hermione had always secretly reminded her of herself. For a second she almost felt guilty for not finding out what had happened to him, but a stubborn bitterness bore its way into her. She remembered the ceiling of the Malfoy mansion, dark and glittering through the tears in her eyes. A pain that shuddered through her body so intense and relentless she still woke up in sweats. His face, peering over from the mantelpiece, unyielding. She was suddenly very aware of the 'Mudblood' scar on her arm, tucked just under the baby boy in nestled there.

'Why are you here Malfoy?'

'Why are you here granger? I was told this office was spare, I don't need you coming in here and interrupting my work, you shouldn't be here..' He said, nudging a toy troll she had stuck onto her desk with the nib of his quill as though it was dirty. Knocking it over, he got up out of her chair and walked towards her, watching her curiously. He came closer, peering at her unnervingly. Still she held her ground. He glanced down at the bundle in her arms and almost jumped back.

'Jesus Granger, why the hell have you got a baby?'

She followed his gaze down to the baby. He was growing heavy, her arms were tired and her injured hand was sore. But she didn't want to put him down. He was drizzling, his little mouth pouting and his cherub face blotchy. He looked tired, fed up and about to wail at any second. She rocked him slowly.

'I found him, he was crying…' her eyes watered and she sniffed harshly and shook her head.

Not here, not in front of him

Avoiding eye contact she walked around him, dropped the bag and slumped into her desk chair. She rested her head against the back and shifted the baby so he hugged her chest. He gripped her shirt and rested his head against her collar bone. She almost smiled at how monkey like her looked.

She tilted her head and looked back at Draco with eyes that fought to stay open.

'What are you doing in my office Malfoy?'

He stared at her for a moment taking her in. She could see his eyes look over her hair, wild and sweaty, unravelled from a braid that she had thrown it into three days before. She watched as he scrutinised her black and bloodshot eyes, she did her best to glare with them but he didn't seem to notice.

'Take a picture Malfoy it will last longer.'

He narrowed his eyes but gave no hint at what he was thinking. Without looking away he said 'The Ministry wants all hands on deck, that includes me apparently. Nothing like a death eaters' insight to…. Granger are you falling asleep?'

She shot her eyes back open and jerked in the chair, the baby gave a small start but she hushed it before he could cry.

'He needs milk,' she said, pulling herself up out of the chair. She felt herself wobble and gripped onto the desk to steady herself.

'God knows how long he was there by himself.' She breathed in deep trying to hold back the floodgates which were imminent.

'Left there amongst all that rot and disease and death…'

She wasn't really speaking to anyone any more. All she could see were the hospital corridors, filled with the dammed and dying, blood soaked and sputtering. The smell imbedded into her clothes. She looked down at the grimy cuffs of her jumper and stared. She could feel her breaths becoming quicker and shallower.

'Granger?'

She looked up at him, his mouth still slightly ajar as though he was about to say something else.

'Don't'. She said, barely a whisper, cracked and broken. 'Please, don't.'

His eyes cut into her. He was merciless.

'Tell me what happened.'

She shook her head.

His eyes looked over her hand, still bloody and wrapped in a tea towel. He took another step forward.

'Tell me Granger.'

Hermione ignored him and pulled a bottle and the tin of formula out of the bag. It took her a few moments and a few simple spells to have the milk ready, but Draco stayed where he was. Not moving, not talking, just watching. When she finally pulled the finished bottle from the baby's mouth she looked up at him. Her eyes were fading, she was losing the war against sleep. She was surprised he was still there. He must have been desperate for an answer. She set the bottle down and put the baby back against her chest, rubbing his back softly.

'Everything's gone.' She whispered, a single tear rolling down her cheek as her eyes shut. 'There's nothing left.'

Draco made to leave, and she was asleep before he even made it to the door.