Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

AN: Another chapter. Only three more after this (I think). Multiple P. again, hope it all makes some sense ~ Hannah

A Dirty Man Once Clean is What?

The buildings foundation rocked and swayed under the weight of destruction that was taking place up above. Inside his cell the man paced nervously, something inside his heart was calling his old self forward yet he was still as trapped as ever within his own mind. He knew something wasn't right as the floor below him shook and the ceiling above him trembled. Was this the end of his everlasting solitude of would he become part of the growing rubble?

M.B.

The walls shook from the force of his footsteps, his shined shoes reeked of fine breeding yet his appearance contradicted his clothes. The crisp suit fitting like a glove, his hair neatly trimmed and slicked back with ample amounts of grease. The only thing that gave away his perfected pureblood image was the look in his eyes, a combination of anger and pure hatred. He never thought he'd be standing here today, holding fort as his castle tried to crumble around him.

Utterly pathetic. He'd worked so hard to get where he was today. He'd heard the whispers on the wind. She was here the one who stole his heard and kept it captive all these years. One whisper of her name and he was transported right back to Hogwarts and the humiliation of losing her played again and again. He should have realized that she was never his. He had been foolish with his plans and should have just killed her when he had the chance. He couldn't do it though, because he was unable to kill the one person who had caused him to feel so much.

Instead he'd done the next best thing and taken her love from her but what had it cost him? A life unloved, a life full of darkness and shrouded in mystery. Oh but it had been good all the wondrous things he'd invented, all the spells, the revels and the torture. It was all worth it.

The wards and door shook with the force directed at them. Boom, Boom, Boom! They were blasted off their hinges, metal flung every which way as yet another obstacle was bought down. The spells were daunting, sweat dripping heavily from their neck to their shoulder. The concentration involved was damning. Bam! There went another door. Whoosh! Yet another spell was destroyed. Their hearts desire just moments away.

He cowered into the corner, his knees drawn up and his arms sheltering his head. He didn't understand what was happening, the noise, the commotion and it was sending his mind into turmoil with shivers up his spine. The walls vibrated from an invisible force as cracks started to appear in the bricks before him. He curled even further into the corner, his mind and heart playing against each other. One told him to hid and the other told him there was nothing to fear. Something was awakening within him, it was strong, dangerous and familiar. It boiled all the way down to his core and sent fire running through his veins. Something was calling out to him and slowly he felt his magic returning.

A final heave hoe, a furrowed brow, rattled hair and dusty clothes and the final door collapsed where it stood, the remains crumbling to the floor in a pile of rocks. The dust that scattered was vast and thick. It rose up and consumed all in its path. The man coughed and wheezed from his secluded corner. Once the dust settled he saw a figure standing within the falling dust. It was like looking at an angel from his dreams. They were so familiar yet so unknown at the same time.

"Who are you?" he managed to croak out.

"A friend," they replied.

"I know you don't I?"

"Yes from a distant memory."

"You feel safe."

"Come with me."

Memories long since forgotten played out through the minds of unsuspecting victims. A child running wildly through the garden, taking a wheelbarrow ride with friends, catching animals and hiding from parents. A Father playing hide and seek with his children, letting them ride on his shoulders and reading them bedtime stories.

A Father hugging his child and smiling softly when the child fell asleep on his lap. Smiling when seeing his children excited and bringing laughter to the house. Reminding his young son that he should always be brave and look after the girls. Telling his daughter that she was the prettiest girl in the world and loving his wife unconditionally.

Seeing his angel wife and being reminded of how lucky he was. Seeing the love in her eyes and knowing he was home.

The man sagged against the shoulders holding him up. He'd tried desperately to stand on his own and not burden his saviour but his legs were too weak. He could hear the sounds of battle as they neared the front foyer, he didn't want to sound too optimistic but it sounded as though someone was winning and he hoped it was his angel's side.

The man in the crisp suit with the shined shoes and the slick hair had arrived too late. As he looked at his destroyed wards and spells and the empty cell before him he felt a ripple of fear. He was still powerful but not how he once was as time had weakened him.

He'd felt fully safe in the knowledge that though his castle had been breached it was near impossible to dismantle the wards and doors he'd placed at the entry to the cell. He shouldn't have been so arrogant in thinking he was untouchable.

He was drawn towards the cries of battle. His want twitched nervously in his hand sending sparks towards the floor. Anger pulsed through his veins, all the worst spells he could think of were waiting on the tip of his tongue. He saw the damage to the front foyer and was thankful that battle hadn't moved further into his castle. He saw the bodied lined up, his own pathetic men had fallen victim to mere children of the light.

Sweat was running from people's brows, the air smelt of death and pungent smoke. Where was the little cretin? He couldn't believe that his prisoner had already left the castle without his knowing.

They struggled across the foyer, the dusty smoke acting as an invisible blanket for them to hide under. They spared little attention to the people around them for it wasn't as important as getting out alive. They were so close.

"Halt," he said powerfully.

The voice had little effect on most people but it did much to get into the minds of the angel and the man she was struggling to keep upright. Words were thrown all too fast. Words that promised the follow up of pain, torture and death.

He was so close to taking even more from the tormenting angel that had stolen his heart. Two words and she'd lose even more and then he'd be at peace. Two words was all it took. Two. Little. Words.

For the second time that night everything froze.

"Avada Kadavra."

Many Hours Later

He'd been in the care of the perfectly professional team at St. Mungo's now for hours and he was only just beginning to feel clean again. He felt very weak in himself and knew the staff wouldn't mind if he were to fall asleep but he wanted to be aware for this moment.

He'd spent so much time being lost within his own mind with his own confusing thoughts and memories that this was like a breath of fresh air. How long had it been since he'd seen his own reflection? He couldn't even remember. He felt like he was a guest at a spa. First they'd led him into a beautifully large a vast bath where they'd helped him strip and led him slowly into the hot water. It was like being given a new lease of life or that was what it felt like to him. When they eventually removed him from the water his fingers had gone all pruned like but he no longer smelled of dirt and scum. Now he could faintly smell mint and lemongrass. They'd worked for hours on his hair as well. At first he'd thought they'd just shave it all off but instead they worked through it tirelessly combing out all the lice and mould that had got stuck in there over the years. Once they were finished his hair looked glossier and healthier and the remains of his time in captivity were completely washed away. They'd given him fresh soft bed clothes to wear and he'd assumed they'd burnt his old rags because he couldn't see them anywhere. The feel of the fine cloth on his back was an experience he wasn't likely to forget in a long time. His body was undernourished but it was nothing a few good meals wouldn't fix.

He wished he could remember the name of the angel who saved him. She had looked so familiar like a person from a distant dream or memory. He felt sure that he knew her and she certainly knew him. The healers had told him that his memories would come back in time but that the years of neglect and torture had forced his memories to the back of his mind. They'd been locked away for so long that he was unable to retrieve them himself. The healers recommended a series of sessions with a mind healer to help him regain his memories. They'd already taken samples of his blood and matched it to Wizard DNA they had on file. They had just decided to put off telling him who he was until he was more within his own mind as there was no use worrying him over nothing.

There had been several other beds set up near the recovering man. They were all people who were hurt from the battle and each had a set of highly professional Aurors assigned to guard over them. They weren't in trouble he didn't think but openly celebrated as they'd achieved what the Ministry had been trying to do for years. It was yet another blow for the Ministry to be beaten by a group of teenagers.

In one of the beds lay a woman who was so gaunt looking and cold to the touch that should could have been mistaken for dead. As it was she was just in a deep sleep as the healers had thought it best after seeing her injuries. They were sure that their patent hadn't even realised how close she was to looking death in the face. It wasn't so much her physical injuries that were cause for worry more that she'd almost used her entire magical force up. She would be heavily sedated for days while her body and magic recuperated.

The woman in question really thought she had died. In the confinement of her own mind the world was seemingly white and empty. She found herself rather disappointed if this was to be her afterlife. She'd expected she'd be re-joined with all the others who had died in the war in some sort of heaven like area but it seemed like she'd got stuck in some in between area.

Perhaps this was where you came when you first died. Perhaps there were some forms to fill out or some questions to be asked before you were allowed to move on. She knew her death meant that she'd succeeded but in her state of mind she felt hard pressed to find a downside in her death. The thoughts and feelings of all the people she left behind seemed distant and unimportant if she had succeeded as she thought she had.

However, quite suddenly a spike of fear settled into her gut. Perhaps the nothingness was the place people went to if they'd killed someone while alive. Can one soul truly stay whole if one kills without malicious intent? Surely there must be some truth in that or this place would be overrun with a million murderers. She was quite hopeful that she wouldn't have to face the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange, Voldemort or Umbridge again.

She felt guilty still for the lives she had ended. They all say 'all's fair in love and war' but it all seemed very unfair to her. The emotional experiences from battles since gone never really leave you.

As the morning sky drifted past the daily hours into the night's sky, the patients slept through all the worry and anxiousness others were feeling. They knew not that there were many people waiting to shout at them or curse them for their foolish behaviour. They slept peacefully as the healers worked their magic and the injuries they sustained were closed and mended.

They'd been hard pressed to keep this information out of the news but money always went a long way to keeping the silence. They'd give The Daily Prophet a story when they were ready. The last thing they needed was to be bombarded by vicious reporters looking for a juicy story and a life to ruin.

It was a further two days till the remaining two patients finally woke. The girl had been moved into the room with the man after they'd heard him whispering about an angel and likewise heard her whispering his name. It became apparently necessary for them to be together when they woke. The man was the first to wake up and the healer on duty was very happy with his progress.

"Hello, Sir, can you hear me?"

"Just about," he replied.

He gratefully accepted the glass of water she passed him and found it heavenly soothing on his parched throat.

"We've kept you heavily sedated while we fixed you up so don't try to move too much as you are probably still a little sore."

"Do you know who I am?"

"Of course Mr Zabini, don't worry. Once you are feeling better I'll arrange some lessons with a mind healer and we'll work on getting your memories back for you."

"Where is the angel?"

"She's right behind you Sir. She hasn't woken up yet but we expect her to any moment now."

"Is she ok?"

"She will be. She gave us quite a scare. Whatever she did she almost completely drained her magical life force. She's very lucky to be alive."

"She saved me."

"Then you best thank her when she wakes," said the healer while smiling. "I'll be back when she wakes. Call me if you need anything."

After the healer left, the man, Mr Zabini returned his gaze to his angel and began to study her. She looked so innocent and pure yet completely mature beyond her years as well. Her skin was very pale, her eyes were closed and her hair was laid out around her like an unearthly halo. Whoever she was and wherever she'd come from he was grateful for what she'd done for him. He wished she would wake up soon so he could tell her in person.

The unconscious angel moved in her sleep. Her body was waking up but her mind still stayed within the confines of her mind. It seemed she was reluctant to wake up from the safety she found herself in.

Finally, her eyes opened ready and alert even if her mind wasn't. She blinked rapidly in the overly bright light. Her mind repelled against the brightness of the place she was in.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Slowly she lifted her head up and he could sense the cogs turning in her head. He saw the different emotions that ran across her face and assumed she was remembering what had happened.

"I think so," she replied.

"Do you know where you are?"

"St Mungo's."

The healer chose to make an appearance then and broke the connection between the two of them.

"Oh good you're awake. How do you feel?"

"A little confused but otherwise fine," said his angel.

"Hmm Miss Zabini you scared a lot of people with your actions. You're lucky to be alive."

The healer performed some basic tests and with one last severe look towards the young girl she left the room.

"She said Zabini?" he questioned.

"Yes, I'm Hermione Zabini."

"You saved me?"

"Of course."

"Why?" he asked.

"You are family."

He looked at her with a shocked expression and she looked back guiltily as if regretting what she said.

"Family?" he whispered.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that. I'm sure you don't have all your memories back yet."

"No. I-I like that I have a family. Are there others?"

"Yes."

"Who are they? Where are they?" he asked curiously.

"You have a wife, Katherine and a son, Blaise. I assume they're in the hospital somewhere."

"A wife," he murmured. "She looks like you but older…she was my angel on the darkest nights."

"You remember her?"

"I remember the angel…everything is jumbled now."

Hermione nodded sadly.

"I remember a little boy. I don't know if he is mine or not but I remember telling him to always be brave and to protect the girls," he said and then paused. For a moment he looked so lost. "Girls, there was a little girl also…"

"Yes," whispered Hermione.

"She was…lost. Gone for so long. I-I tried to find her…my sweet angel. She just disappeared…I needed her. Gone, gone, forever gone."

Hermione had to hold back the tears. The brain was a fragile thing at best but when throwing in missed memories it was like treading on egg shells. Hermione didn't know what she should say and what she shouldn't.

"Do you know where my sweet angel is?" he asked.

Hermione didn't know whether he meant her Mother or herself.

"She would be around your age I think. I don't know. I can't remember how long it's been."

"Yes I know where she is."

"Where is she? Can you take me to her?"

"She's right here," she whispered.

"Where?" he demanded and Hermione could see he was getting agitated.

"You're looking at her…Father."

The man, her Father, looked at Hermione for a full minute before anything happened. If he dismissed her claim she'd be devastated but could he be held accountable for that when he was missing half his memories?

"I saw you in a dream recently," he stuttered. "I thought you were my other angel. I didn't realise you were all grown up. You disappeared…I searched for you…I was going to get you back. I was going to save you…"

"It's ok Papa, I'm here now," whispered Hermione.

She stretched her arm out to reach his so she could hold his hand. It was the only movement she could do without pain and she was very grateful for it.

"How long have I been gone?" he asked.

"Just under sixteen years I think."

"How long have you been reunited with the family?"

"Just under one year."

"How?"

"I was hit by a potion in school and the effects of it unlocked my true image. It was easy to figure out after that."

"So I never managed to find you?"

"No, I'm sorry but I was raised by good people."

"Who?"

"Muggles…dentists actually."

"Where are they now?"

"They died, in the war."

"The war?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head guiltily knowing that her Father didn't know of the war that had plagued the Wizarding World.

"The War that was just staring when you disappeared," she said thoughtfully. "Voldemort was ripped from his body by the Potter's son. It took him fourteen years to get himself back to a body and from then on the war escalated into the Great Battle of Hogwarts which happened three years later. Voldemort is dead now."

"Lots of changes then," he said.

"Lots of changes," she echoed.

"Mr Zabini," said the healer as she returned to their room. "We're going to take you to the mind and memory ward now. Yours is a singular case, we don't know how long it will take for you to regain your memories. It could be a day, a week or a month but we will start now."

He glanced back at Hermione, "what about—"

"Miss Zabini needs to rest! She's exerted a lot of energy just talking to you. How do you feel Miss?"

"I feel fine."

The healer pierced her with a death glare, "sleep now."

"I don't want to sleep."

"Fine," growled the healer and then injected Hermione with a dreamless sleep potion.

"What did you do?" demanded Mr Zabini.

"Put her to sleep," said the healer coldly.

"She was perfectly fine."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Says the TRAINEE healer. Who let you in here?"

"That's none of your business."

"It is if you're putting my angel to sleep without her permission."

"How dare you question my authority."

"How dare you come in here and act without permission."

"What on earth is going on here?" came a new voice.

Mr Zabini read the badge on the new man's coat. 'Chief Healer' it read. Maybe he could trust this man.

The Chief Healer glanced at the scene before him. The unconscious patient, the incensed Father and the angry trainee healer.

"Somebody better tell me what's going on."

The trainee healer jumped in first, "I came to take Mr Zabini to the mind and memory ward. I told Miss Zabini to go to sleep but she refused so I put her to sleep. Mr Zabini was judging my work ethic," she said icily.

"Sir if you could please tell me your version now."

"Certainly! This…healer stormed in and demanded that she take me to the mind and memory ward. She turned to my sweet angel and told her to 'go to sleep.' My sweet angel told her that she felt fine but this healer demanded that she should sleep. My angel struggled against her, she didn't want to sleep and she didn't need to so this so called 'healer' forced my angel to sleep by injecting her without her permission with a dreamless sleep potion that I assume was mixed with a sleeping draught."

"Trainee Healer Smith, is that true?"

"Of course not. This patient is missing memories, why are you taking his word over mine?!"

The Chief healer glared at her, "Trainee Smith, what exactly are you doing here?"

"Transporting Mr Zabini to the other ward," she replied.

"Yet weren't you told to stay away from this room as it wasn't within your training rights…?"

Trainee Smith blushed, "I heard the Healers outside talking about how they needed someone to more Mr Zabini but they were all too busy so I decided to help them out."

"Despite the fact that you were told to stay away."

"What difference does it make?" she growled.

"A lot of difference," said the Chief Healer. "Mr Zabini my apologies, someone will be up to take you to the mind and memory ward shortly."

"What about my angel? What about this stupid woman?" demanded Mr Zabini.

"Your angel shall be fine. She should wake up in the next twenty-four hours and Trainee Smith will find herself in front of the health board, stripped of her trainee statues and receiving a large fine."

"No!" shouted Trainee Smith as the Chief Healer dragger her from the room.

The next few days were tense for the patients and the families waiting outside. With each passing day Andre Zabini remembered more and more of his past life. He encountered many headaches and became used to the constant tears that fell from his eyes. Hermione remained asleep for near to three days which first alarmed the healers till they realised that not only had Trainee Smith drugged the poor girl but had given her an incorrect dosage as well. Once the potions wore off she drifted in and out of consciousness on her own accord. Her magic keeping her in a state of lucidity as it worked to restore itself properly.

While the other visitors passed in and out, Katherine Zabini, Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy were constant occupiers of chairs in the hallway. So much so that the Chief Healer had sanctioned off a room just for them that was complete with beds for rest. The three occupants were exhausted from remaining awake for so long and using up their emotional range of anger, worry and sadness.

While Katherine worried for her daughter and returned husband, Blaise worried for his sister and his Mother while Draco worried solely for Hermione. At first he'd been inexplicitly mad at Hermione for her actions and for not telling anyone what she was doing but as time went on in the hospital his anger disappeared and was replaced with a fear so strong he wondered what would happen to his soul should Hermione not make it.

He also carried a burden on his shoulders, one he wasn't sure if anyone else knew yet. He knew if the same thing happened again that his actions would be the same a thousand times over. He just wished he knew what the consequences to his actions would be.

Two floors up and three doors to the left the healers in charge were clapping wholeheartedly and wiping tears from their eyes. This had been an emotional rollercoaster for the last few days of work. After removing the complex set of spells placed on their patient's mind, it was just a matter of slowly coaxing the memories back to the present. The healers had been involved so completely and were very happy for what they and their patient had achieved. One brave healer stepped forward to address their patient formally.

"Welcome back Andre Zabini."

"Thank you," he replied in a rich deep voice. "It's good to be back."

"your family is waiting downstairs."

Andre's heart lit up like a beacon for he couldn't wait to see his beloved Katherine and son Blaise again.

"I need to see my sweet angel."

"Miss Zabini is downstairs. She was asleep the last time I checked on her but she should be awake now. Her magic should be fully restored now," replied the Chief Healer who had taken over the responsibility for both Zabini's welfare.

"Thank you," said Andre.

His angel was sleeping when he returned to the room. The healers instructed him to lie back against the bed they'd placed next to hers. He felt an anger build in him for all the years he'd missed.

"Papa," she cried out in her sleep.

"Shh, I'm here my angel."

She whimpered in her sleep softly before she exhibited signs of waking.

"My dear sweet angel, my Hermione."

"Papa?"

"I'm here."

She wanted to ask how long she'd been asleep for and how long it had taken him to regain his memories but it didn't seem like the correct time to ask.

The door creaked open slowly allowing entry to three exhausted people. Andre's heart sang out as he recognised his beloved Katherine and his grown up son. He even recognised the three person, the child of Lucius and Narcissa, Draco he remembered his name to be.

"Andre? Is that you?" whispered Katherine shocked beyond belief.

She'd refused to believe what had been said but here stood her proof.

"It is Katherine, I'm back."

Father…?"

"Blaise," said Andre lovingly.

Hugs were given and received, as the family reconnected with each other. Draco knew he should leave and give them some space but he couldn't tear himself away, especially now when he could see his Hermione so delicately lying on the bed before him.

"Hermione," he murmured, hiding his head in her hair when he'd reached her side.

She welcomed his embrace, knowing he was trying to convince himself that she was there and she was alright. She hated that she'd hurt him but she would do it a million times over if it meant getting her Papa back. Draco wanted so desperately to be angry at Hermione but seeing her there before him he just couldn't muster that emotion up. All he felt was sorrow and relief and he knew he'd never let her out of his sight again.

"Hermione."

"My sweet angel."

"My darling girl."

"Queen of Sass—"

Her family all started talking at once but stopped once they realized they all had different names for her.

"I think what we are trying to say," said Andre, "is how did you find me and why didn't you tell anyone else?"

Hermione sighed a heavy sigh. If there was one thing she didn't want to tell everyone else, it was about how she'd found her Papa and why she'd kept it to herself. She didn't want the others to feel guilty about her admission but knew they would regardless as there was always a price to pay.

"I'll tell you but you may not like why I kept it a secret."

Her Papa nodded and encouraged her to continue.

"It started when I was transformed as a result of the potion. When my appearance changed I put every other change down to the transformation. However, I began to feel a kind of thumping deep within me. It was never ending and made me feel like I'd forgotten something. It was calling me forth into the unknown and I knew beyond my vision that something was waiting for me. I got my answer when I learned of my past. No one would talk about you Papa. You were like a big secret, like if you were talked about it would make everything worse. I hated it. I tried to talk to Blaise about you but he told me it was none of my business and to stop poking my noise where it wasn't wanted.

For all your insistence that I was part of the family and you'd missed me all these years you blocked me out of the one piece of information that I deserved to know. You were the same Mother, giving me half facts and refusing to talk about it. It was ridiculous, if anything it made me more curious to find out the truth. Draco, you automatically took Blaise's side, shouting at me for getting involved where I shouldn't and it just made me more determined. He's my Papa too, just because I was taken away didn't mean I wasn't allowed to know him!

So I did my own research. I had help I'll admit but I'm not going to reveal the person who helped me. I looked through past year books and old records. I found out who you'd been running from all those years. Marcus Boyle ring any bells, he should because he's responsible for all this. The day I found out about Marcus Boyle was the day I saw a bookstore owner die. Then there was the Werewolf attack and I knew I was being watched. It was obvious really, Marcus was feeling threatened so he sent out his minions to threaten me as well.

It didn't work. I knew I was looking for my Papa and knew it was his magic that was reaching out to mine. I knew we had a strong connection. I worked tirelessly for months working to find the secret location of Marcus's castle. If felt so simple when I found it. Dark Wizards tend to use the home of their ancestral parents as their dark castle, evil lair etc.

Granted at this point I shared my burden with another. Turns out I should have thought more carefully about who I trusted with the information. I had thought I could trust her and that she wouldn't tell anyone else yet for whatever reason she still betrayed me when it came down to it.

By the time this lot arrived I'd already infiltrated the castle, broken several wards, stunned and killed several of Marcus's henchmen. You lot should have stayed well away but your arrival caused the battle to escalate. I almost died but thanks to the distraction you all created I managed to get away. Regardless of the battle and the people who arrived unannounced I had a mission to carry out. I followed the trace of magic that called to me, I followed it all the way to the basement where I undid countless complex spells and blasted away countless doors until I finally reached Papa. It was hard getting you out of there as you didn't understand what was happening and you were very weak.

Marcus caught up to us at the foyer right when we were about to disappear. I saw the torment in his eyes. He thought he was looking at a young Katherine and I imagine it was like losing you to Papa all over again but he didn't get a chance to act this time as he was killed instantly by the killing curse."

She paused here after her mammoth story and glanced at the people around her before her eyes came to rest on Draco.

"The curse you threw Draco…you killed Marcus Boyle didn't you," she cocked her head to the side and waited for his answer.