"Love is our resistance

They'll keep us apart and they

won't stop breaking us down

Hold me

Our lips must always be sealed"

-"Resistance", Muse

The Resistance

Chapter Eleven

A/N:Thanks for your patience, guys! School has been hectic for me! Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this chapter!

Ophelia awoke just as the sun peaked through the trees, hitting the top of the their tent.

She stood, with great difficulty, her breath heavy and flawed, as she moved to her bag. She bent, wincing in pain, and secured her clothes, books, and herbs. She slung the bag across her shoulder.

Hermione and Harry were still asleep. Last night had been an emotionally taxing night. Harry was still recovering from the effects of the horcrux, as well as the snake bite. Hermione, meanwhile, had stayed up nearly all night, her nose buried in a pile of books.

"Merlin bless her," Ophelia muttered. Her hand traveled to her stomach. She would miss them, deeply.

"But it's for the best," she assured herself aloud.

She took one last glance at her sleeping friends, nodded to herself, and walked through the tent flap.

"Goodbye," she whispered, and apparated into the thin, cold, air.

When Ophelia's feet landed with a crunch on the fresh layer of snow that covered Hogsmeade Village

She was greeted by the shrill sound of the Caterwauling Charm, and she pressed her hands against her ears, hoping to silence the shrieking alarm. Her senses were heightened, especially at this stage in her pregnancy.

She stood, patiently, her arms wrapped around her baby bump.

"You have nothing to be afraid of," she said to both her, and her baby.

Three death eaters ran around the corner, nearly slipping in the snow.

"What's the meaning of this?" One demanded of her, while the other made to grab her hand.

Stubbornly, Ophelia pulled away. They were not going to touch her.

"I've just apparated here. Is there a law against that?"

"Yes, actually," a death eater growled, "unless you state your business."

"I'm here to visit my mother," Ophelia explained, cautiously, "I'm pregnant, as you can see, and I require her medical attention."

The death eaters seemed rather surprised at such a convincing, precise, answer.

"Who's your mother?"

"Poppy Pomfrey," Ophelia's hands remained around her stomach. She was exhausted, but she would persist.

"Please, just let me get to the school. I have enough to worry about, as it is."

"Blood status?"

Ophelia frowned.

"I don't see how that's relevant. But, if you must know, I'm pure blood. I was a Ravenclaw."

"And the baby?" The death eater closest to her prompted.

"What of it?" Ophelia felt her heart begin to batter against her ribcage. Her insides were chaotic, rebelling against her.

"What's it's blood status?"

"Half blood," Ophelia tasted the words, "like they're father."

The death eaters exchanged a glance, as if coming to a silent decision.

"Alright, but you'll be escorted to the castle, and Pomfrey will be subject to an interrogation."

"Fair enough," Ophelia muttered. Talking was becoming harder and harder for her.

"Let's just be quick about it, shall we?"

Although they were her escorts, Ophelia lead the way. She walked at a brisk pace, for her condition, with a determined view of the path ahead of her. She wanted to get to her mother, and feel safe again. She couldn't wait much longer. The baby could be due any day.

There was also the matter of Snape. She refused to run into him.

"We really should talk to Snape about this, shouldn't we?" One death eater was saying to the other.

Ophelia pretended she couldn't hear them, but she frowned as she caught what they were saying.

"It's not a big deal," The other death eater dismissed, "I'm not going to him for every bleedin' thing. Just because he's headmaster, doesn't mean he's the boss. I mean, not in the long run, right?"

"Whatever," his companion scowled, "I'm not taking the blame for this."

"Come on boys," Ophelia huffed through her panting, "let's get this over with."

The death eaters looked as though they might reprimand her, but thought better of it, and quickened their pace to catch up with her.

As Ophelia saw the familiar sight of the Hospital Wing, she felt both relieved and nauseous.

She used all her strength to haul open the heavy stone doors- receiving no help from her company, and looked on in horror.

She'd never seen the Infirmary so full. Every bed was occupied, and there were a few makeshift cots here and there.

The students of Hogwarts didn't look sick or indisposed, they looked…injured.

"Yes, yes, what is it?" The unforgettable snip of Ophelia's mother, came from by one of the beds.

Poppy Pomfrey looked up from her ministrations, and her mouth dropped open.

"Ophelia?"

Ophelia swallowed the well of tears and pain building up in her.

"Yes."

"You're…you're…"

"Exhausted," Ophelia forced an airy laugh, "quite right. I could use a rest. How about I just go to your office, and you talk with these gentleman," she gestured at the death eaters, "they have a few questions for her."

Before her mother could protest, Ophelia scurried off to her mother's office, where she'd slept, only six months ago.

She sunk into the cot, which she'd once called home, and choked back tears.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," she muttered to herself, over and over again, until she sunk into the world of the unawake.

"Ophelia, Ophelia dear?"

Ophelia groaned, and propped herself up.

She thought she must be dreaming, when the figure of her mother stood before her. Then she remembered. This wasn't a dream: it was a nightmare, and it would never end.

"I'm up," she rubbed groggily at her eyes.

"I talked to those death eaters, they're gone now. I guess you can see what condition the school is in now. Now that that man is in charge."

Ophelia ignored the last comment.

"Yeah," she gulped, "I've never seen so many injured people. What's going on?"

The matron hesitated, then fidgeted with her hand.

"Listen, this isn't important right now. I need to know why you went to stay with the Weasleys, and came back to my doorstep…pregnant."

"But I want to know what's going on," Ophelia persisted.

"I think I need to know what's going on, first," Her mother was growing impatient, "who's the father? Why are you in this situation? I thought you were smarter than this! And…why didn't you tell me?!"

Ophelia began to sprout tears, and she fought to get her words out.

"No! No! No! I won't be interrogated like this! And-and I want to know why all these children are hurt, and I want to know-,"

She cut herself off, chocking on her words and her tears.

"Oh dear," her mother put a hand on her daughter's back, "you're hysterical. You need to get some food. We'll talk later."

Ophelia sniffed sharply, dragging the sleeve of her dress across her nose.

"I-I just really want some blackberry jam," she whimpered pathetically.

"I know you do, dear."

It wasn't until Ophelia had been brought down to the kitchen's to eat, and her eyes spotted some Christmas lights, the house elves had strung here and there, that she realized that today was Christmas Day.

After she'd eaten enough food for three elephants, she walked over to the lights, running her fingers along each colour. White, yellow, red, green, pink.

She'd never been a fan of Christmas. She closed her eyes, and drew herself away, to a simpler time.

"What's this one, Mrs. Weasley?" Ophelia showed her the parcel which only read: To Ophelia Pomfrey, The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, England.

"That arrived by owl this morning, no indication of who it's from, I'm afraid."

Ophelia thanked her and shrugged, opening it anyway.

Removing a few layers of packaging, she found it was a jar of homemade blackberry jam.

She raised her eyebrows, inspecting it.

She knew exactly who it was from, and smiled secretly to herself. Of course he wouldn't label it, for he wasn't sure why he was giving her the gift in the first place, and didn't want to be accountable for it.

"Happy Christmas," she muttered to the jam jar, thinking that Snape was probably pacing his quarters, wishing he could take the present back. But she didn't care. It was the thought that counted.

"Ophelia? Let's get some sleep, hmm?"

Sleep sounded perfect. Ophelia only wondered if she'd be able to achieve it.

The next few days, Ophelia helped her mother out with light activities, that involved little movement or talking.

She'd help organize the herbs, or change the chamber pots. Whatever it took to avoid talking to her mother about her pregnancy.

"You're sure you're okay with that?" Her mother clucked, as Ophelia lifted a large box full of healing supplies.

"It's not that heavy," Ophelia brushed her mother's concern away, "just big. Where am I bringing this to, again?"

"Just the medical closet on the second floor."

Ophelia wobbled as she walked, looking like an awkward duck. But she had a good grip on the box. It felt good to be helpful again, instead of feeling like a useless balloon.

Luckily, she hadn't run into anyone she knew. All the students walked briskly in the hallways, not socializing or even holding eye contact with each other. So, even if someone had recognized Ophelia, they hadn't acted on it.

"Ophelia?" A voice whispered from behind her.

She stopped walking, and manoeuvred her body in the direction of the voice. A chill overtook her, and she suddenly wished she had her old agility back. She wished she could run, and never stop.

"What are you doing here? I didn't think…," Snape looked both horrified and overjoyed. It did not become him.

"I've got to go…," Ophelia muttered, "this has to go to the medical closet on the second floor."

"Can't we talk?" Snape hissed, "please? There's so much we have to discuss."

"No," Ophelia shook her head firmly.

Then she frowned. Snape was clearly desperate to talk to her, but why hadn't he commented on…

She looked down at her stomach, and raised her eyebrows. The box. The box had somehow covered her sufficiently enough. He didn't know.

"No," Ophelia repeated herself, "I have nothing to say to you."

She turned and marched forward, not once looking back.

"Ophelia, what took you so long, are you alright?" Her mother fluttered around Ophelia like a flustered hen.

"I'm fine," Ophelia growled. She was not usually this aggressive.

"I just feel a little…a little faint."

She took a moment to lean her weight against the posts of a nearby cot. She breathed in and out, but she still felt as though, somehow, she was melting away.

The melting began to feel like much more of a reality, when…

"Ophelia!" Her mother cried, "your water just broke!"

A/N: Aha! Left you at a cliffhanger, didn't I? I know, I'm just evil. There will be an epilogue, and then this story will be over. But don't worry, there will be a third story to follow. Look for those updates soon, and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review!