The first dawn of spring saw Melekerai very quiet indeed. Few of the revellers were bestirring themselves so early and Hermione had cast a Silencing charm on the outboard motor of the small boat laden with expedition supplies. Neville levitated the 'tinny' into the water then helped the witch into it. He waded threw the surf, made sure the propellers were well clear and climbed in himself. They motored away purposefully.
The island where Hermione had found the remnant Arachnis orchid was a few kilometres from their sanctuary, well within Apparating distance but until they were more familiar with the location, they would take the boat. Neville steered, enjoying the thrum of the engine and the bounce of the waves. Sunlight gilded the water, turning the sea into molten gold.
The wizard was a little less enchanted with the tropical paradise when he had to squelch through a fetid mangrove. Neville was keen on anything botanical but was less fond of leeches and anonymous buzzing insects. The repelling charms that kept them from being bitten could not do much about the smell of decaying vegetation.
"It's certainly humid enough for orchids. I was worried about the salt spray. It encrusts on the bark, making it difficult for epiphytes." Neville paused to wipe his face and recast a Cooling charm. "Are you sure it's this way?"
"Do you know, I think Marcus is literally the only person I know who just takes my word for things." Hermione said on a laugh, handing Neville the sketched map she had made of the route to the grove. "I made sure I could find it again. I didn't want to haul you all the way here on a goose chase."
"That's because he wants you to have his babies." Neville said sourly as he checked her map with a Navigation charm.
"I'm fairly sure Ron was keen to procreate and he still didn't take my word for it unless something was on fire." She was slightly discomfited by the assertion Marcus had serious plans. Permanent children sort of serious plans.
"Was?" He looked up from the parchment. "He hasn't written you off."
"He asked me to give his family time, so I have." Hermione said, half-defensive and half-resigned. "I've started a dozen letters to him but I haven't sent any. When I spoke to Harry I asked him to tell Ron I'd asked after him."
"You ask after a dog or sick uncle. You've been friends for almost ten years." He pointed out, ignoring the water seeping into his socks.
"What else am I supposed to say?" She demanded, blinking rapidly. "How exactly am I meant to make this all better? I've been trying everything I can think of and it just keeps getting worse."
"You could divorce Flint. That'd be a big step in the right direction. Ron's an easy-going bloke but no one would like seeing their girlfriend with another man."
"I'm not with Marcus. I'm not 'with' anyone. I'm alone! Completely fucking alone! My parents are dead and I have nothing." Hermione choked, her eyes swimming with tears. "I want my mum and dad."
Neville hugged her, holding her close as she shook. He smoothed her shorn hair, wondering if she had cut it off in a Muggle funeral ritual. Did people do that? Was there something he should say here and now? Something that would make the loss not as awful as it was? Nothing anyone had said had worked for him.
"I miss them, Neville. So much." Hermione wept. She thought she'd been holding it together fairly well. They hadn't even been talking about her parents. But the discord with Ron was all tied up in her grief and it took bloody nothing to set her off. Work helped, she had enough pride to not want the other committee members to see her blubbering. "It hurts worse than the Cruciatus."
He led her over to a fallen tree, checked for creepy-crawlies then sat her gently down and held his friend as she sobbed. Neville didn't try to soothe her as he suspected she had not allowed herself to do enough of this. In typical Hermione fashion she had thrown herself into work, neglected her own well-being and dug herself into an emotional pit.
When the tears had at last abated, Neville offered her a handkerchief and some counsel.
"You aren't alone. I know it feels like it." He had felt the only person in a grey world when he had finally understood his parents were never coming home. "But you aren't. And this will get better. But you can't fill the emptiness with work."
"They need me." Hermione said damply, drained from her outburst.
"They needed you to point them in the right direction and to kick their arses into gear. There's nothing like pure-bloods for sitting on their hands and complaining." Said the pure-blood, with a wry smile. "But you don't have to lead the charge."
"I don't want to just abandon them." Being deserted was a lingering bruise in her psyche, it ached even now with a good friend's arms around her.
"You won't be. You'll be the glorious figurehead sounding the trumpet while your minions do all the work." Neville chuckled at the mental imagine. "It'll be fun having minions, you'll see."
"I get so tired when I'm alone. Like I'm hollow." Hermione inelegantly blew her nose. She had never been able to cry photogenically. She suspected no one could.
"That passes." He sighed, weary himself by proxy. "It feels like forever but it isn't. Gradually there's colour again and everything stops feeling so heavy."
"It feels pretty fucking heavy right now." She mopped her face. "If that God damned drunk hadn't died with them, I would've found him." Hermione wrung the handkerchief. "There's no closure. I didn't get Umbridge. Or Bellatrix. Or the bastard who killed my parents."
"I got a snake." Neville knew what that felt like too. In the darkest hours of the war he had kept himself going with plans of revenge, of justice meted out with as much mercy as the Lestranges and Crouch had given his parents. That had not happened.
"It was a big snake." Hermione sniffed.
"If there had been anything left, I would've had a pair of shoes made. I'd have settled for a belt." He made a little joke as she seemed to be feeling better. Her laughter was watery but it was still laughter. "What do they actually need you to do?"
"We haven't started the internet searches for the lost relatives and we need to submit stay requests for all the pending matches and..." She let her breath out slowly. "A lot."
"I'm sure the Muggle-borns can handle all the internetting." Neville spoke blithely, unencumbered by any notion of what that entailed. "Yaxley is an advocate. Let her sharpen her teeth on the paperwork."
"I need to sit for Flint. He won't be able to keep up with all the reading." Hermione did not protest at his airy delegation, which told her how tired she was. Stepping back a bit might be a good idea.
"He can pull the broom out of his arse and try harder."
"It's not that simple. He has a learning disability. His brain doesn't process letters the right way." She explained, ready to launch into a lecture on dyslexia and other related conditions.
"Like mistaking 'b' for 'd' and so forth?" Neville raised his eyebrows. "I used to do that. Gran made me copy out the alphabet over and over until I got it right. I still have to use a charm to check my spelling."
"It could be genetic. You're first cousins. Have your families intermarried much?" Her curiosity diverted her from her grief. Hermione knew she was grasping at conversational straws but any topic right now was a good one.
"The Gamps always had a lot of daughters, who always married other pure-bloods. My mum was one of five girls." He tried to remember which aunt was which. He knew one of them had married a Bulstrode and Alexandra had married a Flint, resulting in Marcus, but he wasn't sure about the other two. "Mum had a lot of biological aunts too, who never visited."
"Bitches." Hermione cast a Scourgify on the handkerchief and gave it back. "You want me to go home and make it up with Ron."
"I think you'll feel better for it." Neville spoke diffidently, carefully tactful. "Even if you don't date or whatever, you need to put it right with him. You, Harry and Ron are not complete without each other. You've been through too much together."
"When did you get so sensible?" She gave him a thankful hug.
"Oh, seventh year. Spending so much time in the Room of Requirement avoiding the Carrows gave me a lot of time to think." He stood up, offering her his hand with a grin. "I also know how to play an astounding number of card games. Though I never want to play strip poker ever again. Ginny cheats."
"Pairs of socks count as one item." Hermione firmly repeated the rule from previous Weasley poker games.
"Yes, but ten pairs?"