A/N: I was so sure this chapter was done and then I remembered poor Neville. I couldn't forget poor Neville! Sorry this took so long to write!

Neville was nearly propelled up the stairs by the woman he now knew was Irene. He vaguely remembered her from his visits here years ago. A head taller than him, then. And usually up a tree. She had been pushy then, too.

"Thea," Irene called up the stairs. "Thea Eleni, it's Neville!"

"My Yia Yia is your aunt?" Neville asked, turning around on the stairs.

"No," Irene laughed, and she leaned harder into shoving him up the stairs. "I just call her 'Aunite.' Now move, Neville."

At the top of the stairs they seemed to burst into a room filled with antiques and wares for the store below. And in an overstuffed chair, there sat a woman with silver hair wearing widow's black.

She pulled off her glasses and rubbed at them, squinting.

"Irene," the old woman said questioningly.

"You fell asleep," Irene said with a smile in her voice. "It's the ledgers. You shouldn't even look at them. They always make you fall asleep. But look here." And Irene waited, with her hand on Neville's arm as if afraid he would run for it. And once Eleni had her glasses back on, Irene whispered dramatically, "It's Neville."

"Oh, my boy!" the old woman shrieked with a hand over her heart. "Look at you!" And Irene moved quickly to her side then to help her stand up. Neville drew in closer, looking down to see his Yia Yia now only reached to his mid-chest. "What a fine man you are. Oh, look at you. Just like your Papou. Every bit as handsome. Isn't he a good looking one, Irene."

"Yes, Thea. He grew up very nicely." Irene assured the old woman. "In fact," she said cheekily, now looking at Neville. "There is a line of girls out front already."

"Pshaw! Stop it, Irene. Or you'll not even get to dance with him at the taverna tonight. Then," she said with a wag of her forefinger "you'll be sorry." She turned and raised a hand to smack Neville lightly on the cheeks and it required a long extension of her arm. "Say something, Neville!"

"It's so good to see you, Yia Yia. I'm so sorry it has been so long since I've been here."

"Sh. You are here now. So, kiss me, Neville. Kiss your poor old Yia Yia. And we will talk about what is new with you."

///
He left at the last possible moment come that Sunday evening. There had been dancing as promised. And magnificent food. And strong handshakes and hugs. Stories and laughter. And pretty girls. Entirely too many pretty girls who seemed so glad to talk with him

It had been a remarkable visit. But none of it was as remarkable as the moment his Yia Yia had shown him how to command the family sword.

"You'll have to stand with me, Neville. Catch it. I can't do that on my own any longer." And he stood behind her and they stretched out their hands. "Ela thou," they said together. The Greek words giving him a powerful feeling in his chest.

And the sword snapped from its spot over the fireplace and flew into their collective grasp.

"It is a small sword. Yes. But powerful. It is for those times when other things are lost or impossible. The soldiers had a saying, 'When the spear fails... use the sword...' But you must work to understand this weapon and this magic."

"Yes," was all Neville could manage. "I will. I will make you proud, Yia Yia."

"I am already so proud of you. Be well. Please. Be safe. That is what I ask."

...

It was a strange, unsettling feeling. He felt it still, lingering on him as he unpacked in his dormitory at Hogwarts. To be so well loved. To know that sort of welcoming. To feel how unconditional it all was. He felt stronger and more able than he ever had before. Was it the sword? he wondered. Or the family who had given it to him?

///

"You have to go back?!" Hermione said, incredulously.

To preclude being overheard, they were huddled together in Bill's room in the Goblin's home. They were unwilling to use a silencing charm and seem at all impolite or secretive.

"I don't have a choice," Bill explained. "I can't risk this job."

"So, you go. You'll take care of this vault of theirs, and then you'll come back."

"Right. Hopefully," he said, his voice rising in a worried whine. "Hermione, what if it takes longer than I think it will? What if they pull the rest of my vacation time and I can't come back? From the little the letter says this is a huge problem they are having with this vault. No one there has been able to get near it, it is throwing off that many curses."

"Can't they just get the owner to fix this? The owner must have done this!" Hermione said.

"I wonder if they are trying to handle this without involving the owner," Bill said. "They might not want that person to know they are investigating the vault."

Hermione's eye left Bill's and she suddenly fell silent. She gripped his sleeve as if warning him against saying anything while she worked on her thoughts. Finally, she began to nod her head. "The Goblins at the bank are suspicious then. You have to go, Bill. And you need to figure out whose vault this is. Think about it, who the heck would curse a vault like that? What are they hiding? Maybe it's just some paranoid old crack pot. Or maybe it's someone working for Voldemort. Hiding something for him! Figure out everything you can and then tell Dumbledore," she insisted.

"But come back with me, Hermione," Bill said, cautiously.

"I'll be fine. I can't leave now. We are too close, Bill. If I go, Geberic might change his mind. He might never tell us where things are."

"And maybe none of this is real. Maybe he is just some lonely old Goblin living under a church. Next to an empty mound, Hermione. Besides, if I come back without you, my mother is going to give me hell."

"Lie to her," Hermione said, ruthlessly. "Tell her I'm in a hotel. Tell her whatever you need to. Just figure out what is going on with that vault and then get back here. Geberic started this deal with both of us. He will want the two of us here to finish it out. You are the business end of this to him. I'm just the pregnant side show," she said wistfully.

///

"There's my boy," Molly said triumphantly when she saw Bill push through the door three days later. "Back already! Safe and sound, thank goodness." She planted a quick kiss on his cheek and walked back for the kitchen, smiling.

But Arthur could see the young man's face was far from happy. "What is it Bill?" he asked quickly.

"Gringott's called me back, I've been at the bank for the past two days. I've even been sleeping there. We've been working on a vault non-stop."

Arthur motioned him over to the table and the two sat down, leaning close together.

"Did you two find anything in Sweden? Is Hermione back at the store then?"

"Yes. and then... well, no."

Arthur looked up quickly to make sure that Molly was occupied in the kitchen. "Start talking Bill," he implored his son, sotto voce.

"We found a Goblin living in the church there, near the mound." Arthur's eyes went wide. "I didn't think we should tell you folks more than just that we were there and all right. I knew mom wouldn't do well, knowing we were staying with the fellow under the church."

"So, is there something to find in the mound there?"

"Well, I think we are on to something. That's why Hermione didn't want to leave."

"But you made her come back?" Arthur asked, hopefully.

"I couldn't," Bill whispered, frantically.

"Tell me what you two are whispering about," Molly demanded, coming up behind him, hands on hips.

"The suspicious vault I got called back to work on..." he lied. "I didn't want you to know how dangerous it was. Well, that's why I'm here. I... I 'borrowed' the vault area visitor logs from work. And I have got to get them back before anyone notices tomorrow. I need help going through them so we can figure out whose vault it is."

Molly was livid. She sank into the chair next to her son. "One child," she fumed. "Could I have had just one child who could walk in the door and admit from the get-go, what they are up to?"

"He came clean in under 5 minutes, really that's a record," Arthur said feigning a look at his watch. "So, why don't we find out what is going on before we boil him?"

"I've been listening at work. No one is saying whose vault it is. But the logs will tell us who has been signing in to the vault area." And he pulled a stack of ledgers from his satchel. "So, I figure," he said looking pleased with himself, "that in one of these books is the name of the person who boobytrapped that vault. God knows what they are hiding in there, but I am just betting they are not on our side. I am thinking Professor Dumbledore would love to know if we can connect this vault to a Death Eater."

"It could be another Horcrux," Molly said with a tired sigh.

"That was Hermione's guess," Bill said.

///

The next morning, an exhausted-looking Bill was cautiously tucking the ledgers back into the desk they had come from. And at Hogwarts, Molly was producing a parchment from her basket of treats that would detail all of Bellatrix LeStrange's visits to Gringott's over the past 4 months.

///

Hermione and Geberic passed their time quietly. More and more often Hermione found herself falling asleep over the books she had brought with her.

Geberic scolded her for staying up late. He seemed to want to fuss over her, a concept so foreign to Hermione that she occasionally felt the Goblin's actions paralyze her. It had been easier when she could try to forget she was pregnant. Her belly was larger now though. Her clothes pulled and fit strangely, and she noticed a lack of lap suddenly.

And when Geberic asked her, "How is the boy today?" there was no ducking to be done.

There was still so much more to do. And she had such limited time. She tried not to be anxious, but the worry nagged at her. There were her theories on weapons cache locations in Ireland and North America. And then the need to understand the Horcruxes. Sitting still was becoming difficult. And the research was the only way to pretend she was moving forward at all.

She asked Geberic about the sites in Ireland and America. Would there be Goblins there, she wondered. Did he know if they were caches for magical items?

To her surprise he did offer up what he knew. He had heard of the site in Ireland. Haunted, he had called it. But he knew nothing about the places in North America.

And there was a new theory that was ruminating in her brain. One which launched her in to panic. What if the knowledge her world had on Horcruxes was dangerously limited?

Horcruxes were so poorly understood that she had decided to look up references to them in other magical traditions. In texts detailing Egyptian sorcery, she found the notion that a soul could be transferred, not just to an object, but to a living thing. And so, why not a splintered soul, she wondered.

It would explain so much, she thought with a tremble. Harry could very likely be harboring a part of Voldemort's splintered soul. He might be a Horcrux.

///

She needed something other than these burdens. Being alone, carrying these things that felt like secrets was wearing on her nerves. She started wondering, even hoping that her logic was faulty, a product of her isolation.

She gripped the quill and hovered over the paper. How to write this so that McGonagall does not think me insane, she wondered.

///

Professor McGonagall,

I've spoken with someone here who tells me my research is right. But his knowledge is a bit dated.

I am including information on a location I think warrants a visit. My source says there would be no "landlords" there as they are superstitious types and view the place as haunted.

She lifted the quill and subconsciously began to chew on it. Then there was the matter of Severus. The letter she had included in her last communication to Professor McGonagall had never been answered. She hated involving Minerva. She hated revealing aspects of their relationship.... namely that she was so incredibly desperate to hear from him and that she had gotten no reply.

Have you been able to forward my other letter? she finally wrote.

Love makes us vulnerable. Love makes us fools, she thought. Makes us do things we never would before. She tried to reassure herself over the weakness she felt in asking Minerva about the letter she had sent to Severus. She couldn't do it. She couldn't surrender that much of herself suddenly.

Love makes us fools? she asked herself. No.

And she tore up the letter. And rewrote it, omitting the final line.

///

Despite everything he had already heard, Geberic wanted to talk with her, to hear more stories. He would prod her books closed and stare at her until she relented.

But Hermione launched into a lull in the questioning. "I believe there are important weapons, weapons from the magical community that are lost or forgotten. Weapons made for past heroes. And this man. This baby's father will walk into the center of our world's worst battle.. We all need him to win, Geberic. But I need him to come back to me alive, too," she implored him.

She heard the old Goblin swallow hard, perhaps registering the emotion in what she had told him. "He is a Hero then? Your world does still have Heroes?" he asked.

Hermione nodded, bristling, feeling pushed. "Yes," she said firmly. "That is what I believe."

Geberic nodded and they settled into an uneasy silence for the rest of the night.

///

A tired Goldie returned the following morning. The letter the bird carried was a reply from Professor McGonagall, but Hermione focused on the lump she recognized. It was the note she had penned to Severus the previous week.

UNLOCATEABLE. That was all that was written on the front. It was Minerva's handwriting. But there was no explanation. No other message.

She clutch the letter, her head spinning, wondering why would it be unopened? Had he refused it? A childish, unsure part of her wondered. If he was untraceable, just where was he then? Was he all right?

She fumbled with the letter from Minerva. And once it was opened she nervously scanned it until she found what she wanted to see. "Your letter could not be delivered, but I am sure he is fine."

She blew out a breath, half reassured. And determined not to be frantic.

///

Her mind was running in circles and so, it was an incredible relief to have Bill return only a few hours later. She was glad to have him back. Glad to return her energies to their original purpose.

They sat up late and talked with Geberic. Hermione felt like a little girl too tired to stay up and see how her parents party turned out. Geberic chuckled at her attempts to stay awake and finally insisted that Bill send her off to bed.

As she lay in her room, she could smell the rich tobacco from their pipes. She closed her eyes and imagined them sitting in a long tunnel that stretched to the mound. A mound filled with treasures.

Hermione heard them laughing and she smiled, thinking, It will all pay off ... this patience will pay off.

...

"I thought about all of this while I was gone, Geberic," Bill said softly. "Why are you here? Wouldn't you like to leave? Maybe go be with one of your children?" Bill kept talking. He wouldn't give the Goblin a chance to refute any of this.

"You are here to watch over something. And you have no one to turn it over to, do you? You are the 'last of the keepers.' None of your children stayed to take over. And you have no one else left in your clan. This mound got forgotten, didn't it?

"You deserve a chance to turn this job over to someone else, Geberic. I think can help you. Anything you are watching could be placed somewhere else. Some place safe. Gringott's has vaults. Giant vaults even, Geberic. It would be perfect. They may not be your clan. But they are Goblins..." he faded off then and watched Geberic thinking about it.

///

It had been over two weeks since Minerva had seen her colleague. Severus had come in the dead of night again, rousing her and the headmaster. His outer cloak was splattered with mud and his boots were filthy. And it was plain the man was passed caring about that or any aspect of his appearance.

"The Dark Lord is obsessed with having this castle. But he will not move on it directly, yet. That will come."

"Yes, the Board is under his control now and there have been staff changes, already. Additions like the Carrows and Delores Umbridge acting as High Inquisitor," Minerva said with disgust. "And you know about the muggle-born Registration Commission?"

"Yes. I have been so very, very busy along those lines," Severus said in a vamped up voice. "The Dark Lord has ordered the creation of two camps in the north of Scotland. One for Muggles. It will function like an agricultural exposition," he said with disgust. "A model farm. A symbol of how the Muggles can best serve us.

"The other is for the magical community. Some of those brought there half dead already. The fight of getting them to the camp being what it is. And the Death Eaters are rather sloppy with their cargo. They are not enchanted with this idea of relocating people rather than killing them."

"What does he have you doing?" Minerva asked, carefully.

"I run the camps," he merely said.

Minerva drew a breath in, suddenly understanding the haggard look to the man.

"This is troubling," the headmaster finally said. "There must be something the Order can do with out tipping out hand and letting it be known that we are aware of the camps." He pawed at his face in thought for a moment. "But there is good news. With what you told us about Bella Lestrange, we will likely find another Horcrux."

Minerva quickly explained that Bill Weasley was recalled to Gringott's to deal with a suspicious vault.

"It was Bill who was with Hermione," Minerva explained quickly, not knowing how Albus will react to the mention of the girl. "Bill smuggled the visitor logs out and the Weasleys spent a night going through the entries for the passed several months. There were enough visits to suppose the vault is Bella's. And since you overheard Bella saying she had checked on what she had hidden for Voldemort..."

"Then you will have some excitement on your hands," Snape said with a smirk. "You cannot send me this time. If another Horcrux is going to fall, I need to be at the Dark Lord's side when it does."

"I quite agree," the old man said with a curt nod.

"I should go before I am missed," Severus said as he backed away. "It is morning already." But in truth, he had no plans on returning immediately to Malfoy's Manor.

If Weasley is back, then Hermione will have returned, Severus thought

////

It was impulsive to seek her out, he thought as he Apparated onto her landing. But it could cover his absence from either his work at the camps or the Manor. Certainly it would be better to be seen here, seeking out his mistress, than at Hogwarts, he reasoned.

But she wasn't home, he quickly realized. And she hadn't been home in weeks he could tell. Out on the street now, he backed away from the shop. Stunned and angry, he replaced his wards on her apartment as he walked. Gone? How the hell could she still be gone?

Without even thinking he let his feet steer him from the alley to the main street. Where would he even start to look for her? He had never let her finish telling him about the places she was thinking of visiting. He would have to ask Minerva if he really wanted to know. And asking Minerva would come at SUCH a high cost, he fumed to himself

"Severus?" the reluctant voice came. "Are you alright?" It was Arthur Weasley. "You've been standing there a while now, Severus. Just standing. I was across at the boys' shop. I thought I should check on you." Arthur paused then and with a worried look, assessed the potions master. "I am surprised to see you here," Arthur said in a strangely tense voice.

"You don't sound surprised at all Weasley. So, let's just forget this all happened and I will get back to my misery."

"You are the one in the picture with her. The one acting as Hermione's benefactor," Arthur said levelly.

"It doesn't matter, Weasley. Don't you see? It is time to doubt all you think is true. The entire world is spinning out control, for God's sake. Do you know where I have been? Setting up 'new homes' for undesirables. Are you missing any neighbors?" he added, sarcastically.

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the man, beginning to doubt in his sanity more than ever. "And what are you doing here?"

"Obviously, making a mistake." And suddenly, he sounded only tired. Hurt. And he backed up as if to begin to Apparate. But Arthur caught a hold of him.

"And what about Hermione? That's why you are here."

Severus merely groaned.

"And ... how does she feel about this?" Arthur demanded. "And does this mean the father is out of the picture?

"Let go of me, Weasley."

"You are a great deal older than she is, and she is vulnerable. If you are taking advantage of that..."

"Yes, it would be convenient if I were honorable, wouldn't it. That would make your grand standing worth while. But I'm not some fallen angel that can be redeemed by sticky love and a home cooked meal," he spat. He leaned into Arthur now rather than trying to get away. "This is your last fucking chance to let go of me, Weasley."

To his credit, the elder man stood his ground. Tightened his hold on Severus' coat. "I've known you too long, Severus. I've heard it all before. And frankly I don't know how dark you are, and I don't care if you rot in hell. This is about Hermione. Tell me you have her best interests at heart and tell me that you have not laid a finger on her," Arthur warned.

With a quick move, Severus broke Arthur's contact with his coat .

"Pick one," Severus droned, sarcastically. And he stepped backwards and Apparated away.

///

Two more days passed and they were getting no closer to getting any concrete answers from Geberic, only vague stories. Hermione's patience was wearing. There had been days now that they had hoped for a clear answer. That something tangible would be produced. And still the Goblin avoided it.

She sank down in the chair across with him. Leaned in to meet and hold his eyes. And her hand came out and lightly touched his sleeve. "Geberic," she whispered. "We, each of us, have to do things we never thought we would. That is the only way we can win. It is the only way that everyone can be safe again. Your family and mine. Please. We are running out of time."

He sighed.

"Come then," he said, wearily. He had made his decision. But Hermione could tell it was one which made him uncomfortable.

He stood now in front of a wooden door at the end of short tunnel off his living room. He fished a key from his vest and placed it in the lock.

"If I am to do all this. Then there is a bond between us, yes? Wizard. Witch. And Goblin." he indicated each of them in turn.

"Yes," Hermione agreed.

"And the next generation will be one of trust. Trust already established."

Hermione did not understand. But worried as the goblin was staring at her belly.

"That boy," he said ominously pointing a finger at her abdomen. "Let Goblins and Wizards alike know that there is good will. And hope for a future where we do not fear each other. As soon as they hear of him. As soon as they hear his name," he stressed. "They will know that we had hope and acted together. Please?" he said lowly, turning his head to peer up at her. He had said it all shyly, as he had said nothing else in the long days they had spent with him.

He looked away then as he reached his hand toward Hermione. She took his hand, feeling as if she was in a dream, and she placed it on her belly. Then she held it there. She felt a fool, but composed her words anyway.

"Little boy," she whispered, while she watched Geberic's expression, "Meet Geberic, our friend. The last of the Keepers. He is going to help us. And help your father."

"Geberic Falko Kobold smed kamrat van" Geberic told her belly. And then he pulled his hand away and sniffed into his sleeve. But as he raised his eyes to them quickly, Bill was struck by the smile on his face. .... Geberic quickly turned then and pushed hard on the wooden door. Once it was opened enough for him to pass through, he shuffled down the tunnel without a look back. A string of foreign phrases echoed off the walls in his wake.

"This is it, Bill. We are finally going to know what's here," Hermione said in an urgent whisper.

"I don't know, Hermione." Bill held his wand like a glowing torch and they pushed through the doorway together. "I don't like this," he hissed. "Look at how long you've been here. All we do is make concessions and entertain this fellow. It's as if.... Well, you don't think that he... is.... trying to keep you here until you actually have the baby?"

"He isn't Rumpelstiltskin, Bill."

Bill looked off at the retreating form of Geberic. The Goblin was laughing now.

"Oh, Hermione. Why do I keep getting visions of you sitting in a room spinning straw?"

////

A/N: Thanks for reading. It is getting harder to write HP. But I shan't give up! My poor tiny mind has been taken over by the Seventh Doctor (Who) .... and he does not want to give it over! He tells me he is far cuter than Severus and that his adorable little quirks are worth my devotion. For about a month now, I have been agreeing. :)

Ela thou! means "Come here!" and it is the first thing my husband hears from his Yia Yia when he visits. :)