Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source.
It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering, of tarnishing.
-Anais Nin
Hermione was already seated at the dining room table when Draco entered again with an armful of books. She didn't look up at him and he only dropped a few tomes by her side before shuffling over to his own seat. It was the most they acknowledged one another for the next two hours. Smith looked up occasionally, sending sly glances at them both (which they both ignored) and Hooper seemed oblivious to everything except Ornella Parkinson- who insisted on giving Shackleton a night off and cooked them dinner herself, instead.
They had shepherd's pie with blackberries and crème fraîche.
It was delicious.
Shortly after delivering up their late dinner, Ornella left again to go spend time with Barclay. She gave all four of them a hug and a kiss, much to Smith's chagrin, and was off without another word. Hermione watched her go with narrowed eyes. Although she had to admit that she appreciated the meal and kind words, she still wasn't sure she liked the woman's meddling in her affairs.
Still, she didn't have much time to reconsider Draco's offer of Viola spending the night, because no sooner had Ornella left than Ginny was through the fireplace, the little girl in her arms. There was the sound of much coughing from the living room and Draco looked up at her only once, as if to say, well, why don't you go take care of her, you old bag?
He wasn't really saying that- and it certainly wasn't what he meant, but Hermione's feelings were so confused that she wasn't sure of anything just then. She got up and went out of the dining room anyhow, though. Hooper watched her go, a question on his lips. Draco glared at him and the man shut his mouth and returned to his papers.
Once she was out of the room, Hermione rushed towards the living room and practically threw herself upon her family. Viola hugged her mother tight round the neck and began crying almost immediately. Ginny sighed and looked down at them both.
"She's been like that all afternoon, Hermione. I really don't think it's a good idea for her to be away from you any longer."
"But, Gin, I'm so busy right now- there's no time for this-."
"I know that!" her friend snapped, then paused, smiling guiltily. "I'm sorry, Hermione. But you have to understand…there is no appropriate or inappropriate grieving period for a four year old. She only knows-."
This time, Ginny was interrupted by Viola, who turned about in her mother's arms.
"Stop talking about me like I'm not here!" she wailed. "I know everyone is too busy to just sit and be with me! But what about poor Barclay? He lost his mummy and he's in the hospital, too! But everyone's too busy for him as well and I don't even feel like I still have a mummy of my own!"
At that, Hermione and Viola both began crying; with the older witch hugging her daughter and trying to say soothing things around her sobs; and the little girl clinging tightly to her mummy while stomping her little feet as fast and as hard as she could.
It was quite the sight to see…and one which Ginny desperately hoped she never had to experience either again or for herself. It looked terribly painful and dehydrating for both parties.
She finally decided she'd better say something before one or both of them passed out from their efforts.
"Hermione, where is that pale weasel of yours?"
Hermione stifled a laugh into her daughter's hair and Viola stomped a little harder. She tried to speak around the black fuzz in her mouth and ignore the yours that rolled so easily off Ginny's tongue.
"The dining room, Ginny." Her friend nodded and made her way past them, pausing to give Viola a pat on the head and then she left mother and daughter alone.
Hermione held Viola away from her and smiled gently. "Now, would you like to see where you're spending the night with me? I promise you can stay with me as long as I'm here- but you have to promise me not to throw another tantrum like that. You know I'll always be your mummy, darling."
Viola nodded and wiped her face with one small fist. "I know, Mummy. I am sorry. But I missed you all day today! And Grandmum Weasely wouldn't even let me go back to see Barclay!"
"Well, perhaps I can speak to his father about that and we can go later on- maybe not until tomorrow, though," she added as she saw her girl's face light up. "And please be kind to her, darling. She cares about you very much and she's always been one of my greatest friends. She is- was one of your father's greatest friends."
At that, Viola pouted again but managed to keep her tears at bay. She nodded bravely and promised to be good and then Hermione swept her up into her arms and took her up the stairs. Perhaps…perhaps, things wouldn't be so bad after all. Perhaps Draco had been right.
She stifled the snort in her nose and shook her head. No, Draco was never right, the bastard. Just because he'd said both some very nice- and very horrid- things to her earlier did not mean he was right, by any means. He hadn't changed character quite soon enough, had he? Just soon enough to save his own family's hide.
Stop that. That's quite enough of that, Hermione. Just admit what's really bothering you: the fact that he says he's been in love with you ever since then. That he really did care about you back then and he never stopped.
It made her stomach feel queasy, that knowledge. Oh, she wasn't about to stand there and tell him that he didn't really care about her- she'd learned her lesson all those years ago in that department- but she did hope he realized he was just distraught over Pansy's death…the way she was taken over at Harry's. To know that one's spouse, whom you'd loved and cherished for years and expected to spend the rest of your life with, would never walk through the front door again- it was too much. It was enough to make one want to go rushing off to find the last person one cared about, the last person you'd thought you loved and to find refuge in the knowledge that you wouldn't be alone, after all…
She thought, at least, that maybe that was what Draco was doing, convincing himself he'd always protected her. It was almost laughable, anyway! He hadn't been around for more than half the adventures and trials she'd had in the time since they'd parted, although…although he had held information about her. And he had been questioned by the Death Eaters on more than one occasion, especially after he and Pansy had tried to flee.
So, perhaps that was what he'd meant. Still, it was a poor excuse for not protecting one's own family more than some old love affair that had never even amounted to anything. Thoughtful, Hermione put Viola to bed and promised to be up to visit her again in another couple of hours and would she please try to sleep?
The little girl yawned convincingly enough and Hermione tiptoed from the room, closing the door behind her. She was met in the hall by Smith's shout.
"Potter, we've found something!"
She drew a hand across the small of her back wearily and leant over the railing. "Another something or the same something?"
His face was tilted upwards, looking towards her as he thought for a minute. "Hmm. Another something, I suppose. Anyhow, come down. Malfoy's getting antsy and Hooper is about to loose his head, I think."
Hermione shook her head and concealed a smile. It wouldn't do to let her office members get eaten alive by the mighty dragon anytime soon.
"Tell him that Ornella left more food in the kitchen if he's that hungry!" she replied and then started down the stairs.
Smith laughed and disappeared into the dining room with Hermione following him a few seconds later.
"Well, what is it, then?" she asked to the room of men. Draco didn't look up from his papers and Hooper came around instead, holding up a book and a clipboard.
"It's this, you see," he said, voice nervous. "We discovered the approximate dates of creation and the maintenance schedule a few hours ago, but didn't have the point of origin. This book, however, pinpoints it as the Department of Mysteries. There was some kind of transmission of the spell set up using mirrors and cauldrons and the like, in order to get it around the whole of London, and it was supposed to expand with the changing borders."
Hermione read through the page a few times before looking up. "But the ministry was nearly demolished by the collapse earlier today. Doesn't that mean we won't have access to anything down there? Is there even anything left of the ministry?"
Draco finally spoke, although he kept his eyes on the book before him. He continued making little tick marks against a piece of paper as his eyes flicked back and forth between the two.
"George told me that the team they have working to secure the area are also trying to reverse the damage. He wasn't able to tell me anything about the Department of Mysteries, but he did say it seems to be going alright. He also said that long term damage to the property probably won't amount to much more than a shifty wall or two; much like the staircases at Hogwarts."
Hermione snapped her eyes over to him and grinned. "The staircases- that's it!"
He finally looked up, startled from his stoicism. Smith eyed her, amused. "What do you mean?"
"Well, the staircases have nothing to do with it," Hermione said, blushing, but I bet anything that part of the way the way they grounded the wards was by using outlying monuments and buildings."
"Like Hogwarts," Draco murmured, eyes widening. Hermione nodded at him.
"Exactly. It only makes sense, doesn't it, that they'd need something on which to anchor all points of the ward system? Which would explain why some of the accidents have seemed as though other buildings and whatnot are apparating into the same space while some of the other incidents are simply an explosion of matter into a small space. So at the same time the wards are collapsing and forcing things into the same space, they're also pulling in their anchors from wherever they are. Like a collapsing tent." Hermione had a vision of the many times they had trouble putting up camp the year she and the others were searching for the horcruxes and smiled painfully. It was hard to believe those days were truly behind her, now. That neither Harry or Ron were ever coming back. That her last link with the days of the 'golden trio' was gone forever.
The loss of it seemed to leave a gaping hole in her chest and she worked hard to pull herself together as the others continued to talk…as though nothing was wrong, after all, except their current mission to save London.
Smith nodded. "So the city is a massive campground."
"And some of the spikes have already been pulled in," Hermione reminded them.
"Merlin, this just gets worse and worse, doesn't it?" Draco muttered, slamming the book shut which he'd been so carefully underlining in.
"It's not so terrible, really," Hermione smiled wanly. "It just means that in addition to figuring out the spell they used, we have to figure out where the original anchor points are and try to recreate the sites. After all, we can't reuse the same ones if they've been destroyed."
"Are they outside London?" Hooper asked as he swiftly scribbled all the information down.
"Some of them will be, I'm sure. Others, like that apartment complex accident the other day, will be inside the city- probably in an outer district somewhere."
Hooper continued to scribble and Draco stood and began rummaging about in a box. "In that case, Hermione, you'd better come have a look at this," he called.
She walked over, hand still on the small of her back. "What is it?" she asked curiously.
"It's that box you rescued earlier," he murmured. "And it's not what we thought it was," he added, voice even lower. She leaned in.
"What is it, then?"
Draco's eyes glinted. "It's a record of employee reports from the Department of Mysteries regarding a team of spatiotemporal theorists that worked there from about nineteen thirty to nineteen seventy, when they were disbanded and most of them fired for improper experimentation with psychotropic drugs and time delayed spell casting."
She frowned and crossed her arms. "It sounds highly distasteful," she replied, wrinkling her nose.
"It is," he responded, handing her the box anyway. "But there is more than one passing remark made concerning a set of highly secretive wards in there as well."
Her eyes widened slightly and she reached a hand out, tugging some papers from its depths.
"Are you sure? Why didn't you say something sooner?" she accused, a frown settling on her face.
He stared at her for a moment and she glared back before she understood. "Oh," she mumbled. Of course. He'd been trying to talk to her earlier about it and she'd flown off the handle about death eaters. Well. If he thinks I'm going to apologize, he's got another thing coming. He's the one who owes me an apology…with interest! She harrumphed and settled back into a chair, papers in hand. Merlin, but her back was aching.
"We'll have to comb through them a little more. Maybe there's someone there who still knows something. Can we get George over here?" she asked, changing the subject.
Draco smiled wryly and nodded. "Fine. I'll see who I can reach. They should have finished up at the ministry by now, anyway. Smith!" he called.
The other man stood up again. "Yeah, yeah," he murmured, shifting a hand through his hair briefly, wearily. "I'm coming."
The two men exited the room and Hooper watched Hermione expectantly. She finally looked up, irritated.
"What is it?"
"Er…more coffee?"
"No, no more coffee," she practically growled. "Or else there's no telling what will happen. My brain feels like it wants to shoot from my head as it is. Caffeine is a bad idea right now." She snorted and shuffled some more papers in her hands, shifting in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs. "And why does my back hurt so much? Merlin!"
Hooper watched her uncertainly for another few moments and then tilted his head to one side, as if listening for something. He spoke.
"What was that? I think I heard Smith calling for me, don't you? Think I'd better go see what he wants, yes. Hmm…good idea. I'll just be…moving along then, shall I?"
And then he dashed from his seat to the door and out into the hall. Hermione glanced up to find she was alone, glowered at the mess of books and papers on the table, and then settled back into the chair some more. She felt quite dissatisfied…not to mention depressed and all around most gloomy.
She shifted in her seat once more, angry with the straight back of the chair, and spoke into the silence of the room.
"Why does my seat have to be so- so wooden?"
The glower remained upon her brow the rest of the evening.
AN: Sorry this chapter was missing for a while! Didn't realize. Thanks for letting me know. :)