A/N: I present to you an unbetaed chapter. I just couldn't make you wait any more. I'm hard at work on the next chapter and with a bit of luck, should have it posted soon.

4 Cerridwen Court, Godric's Hollow

31 October 1999

Hermione sat in the kitchen, her hands wrapped around a teacup that was almost too hot to touch. She didn't care, the sting was good, it kept her focused on the pain rather than springing from her seat to interrupt the conversation she could hear happening in the next room.

"—the fuck were you thinking, Potter—"

"She would have died if I hadn't!"

"You can't just run about doing whatever you like because you think you're some sort of chosen—"

"Jesus Christ, Kings, are you listening to yourself? Has being Minister turned your heart to stone already?"

"You kidnapped a child!" Kingsley roared, and Hermione flinched in reaction.

"Yeah," said Harry, who sounded just as belligerent as he had before. "And you can be damn sure I'd do it again."

"Merlins Balls, boy."

"I'm not a boy."

"Like hell. You're barely out of Hogwarts, and just as fucking rash and stupid as the rest of your peers. Granger was the only one who had any sense at all, and now I find she's mixed up in some sort of plot to—"

"You keep Hermione out of this," Harry demanded.

"If you didn't want her involved, you shouldn't have had her help you steal a bloody child," Kingsley thundered.

"What was I supposed to do!?"

Kingsley scoffed. "It never occured to you to ask a grown up for help, Potter? The entire ministry would have been at your disposal to—"

"To what," asked Harry, his tone icy as he interrupted Kingsley yet again. "To neutralize the threat posed by a baby? To make her notorious before she could walk?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I would never have allowed that."

"Frankly, Kings, I'm not sure what you would have allowed. You're a minister at the start of his term, and I couldn't take the chance. Do you know what a fucking mess my life was before the end of the war? Not just because of the fact that the Wizarding World abandoned me to abusive muggles—"

"The world has changed, Harry."

Harry continued as if Kingsley hadn't spoken. "But because no one, not my classmates or a single teacher, could forget that I was Harry bloody Potter. No one let me forget for even a moment that I was famous because my parents died, because I had lived when I shouldn't. Because of Voldemort. Hermione and the Weasleys were the only ones who ever saw me as I was instead of as some destined savior."

"Be reasonable," said Kingsley, but Harry continued.

"Do you think I could have stood by and let another life be ruined by Voldemort that way? If people knew the truth, half of the population would fear her and the other half would want to make her some sort of Dark Lord take two. I wasn't just going to stand by and let you lot do that to her!"

"So you decided to steal her and lie to everyone!?"

"Minister," Hermione recognized Ron's voice for the first time since the shouting had begun. "The longer we sit here pointing fingers, the longer Delphi's in danger. Frankly, we haven't got time for this."

"Thank you," said Harry.

"Shut up," Ron snapped back. "Kingsley's right—"

"What?"

"What you did was impulsive and stupid, and it's a miracle it worked out the way it did—don't look like that. I'm not saying you shouldn't have done it, but you did the opposite of the logical thing. When it comes down to it, you stole her, Harry. You kidnapped a baby, and the fact she's your daughter now, doesn't change how it happened."

"You're damn lucky magical adoptions are binding," Kingsley hissed, "or I'd have the girl in care so fast your head would spin."

Hermione stood abruptly, drawing her wand and sending the tea cup she had been holding across the table, hot liquid spilling out onto the wooden surface. She had nearly reached the entryway to the other room when she heard Ron speak, low and threatening.

"Don't you ever threaten that again," he said.

Hermione reached the archway and looked through into the formal dining room. She could see Kingsley standing against the wall, a scowl on his face as Ron jabbed his own wand into the Minister's chest while simultaneous pushing Harry away with his opposite hand.

Kingsley was mutinously silent for several seconds more before he nodded.

"Now," said Ron, "what the hell are you going to do to help us? I didn't bring you here to dress Harry down."

"Why did you bring him?" asked Harry, who was finally retreating to the other side of the room. "We should be out looking for her, not sitting here arguing with some politician who cares more about his career than—"

"Harry," Hermione cut in, lowering her wand and crossing the room to stand beside him. "We can't do this on our own."

Harry met her gaze, and she could see the pain, anger, and fear there. After a moment he nodded and turned, crossing his arms over his chest and facing the wall to compose himself. Hermione wished for a moment that she could do the same, but right now she needed to keep her wits about her. There was no time to give in to her emotions and let the panic she had felt by the old Potter Cottage over-take her again.

"Minister?" Hermione said at last, turning to face Kingsley.

The man sighed, raising his hands and covering his face for a moment before lowering them and straightening his spine.

"Alright, Weasley," he said. "You've my permission to lead the hunt. Take as many Aurors as you need. As of this moment, finding Delphini Potter is priority number one."

"Thank you, sir," said Ron. As he turned to face Hermione, she could see the determination in his eyes and in the set of his jaw. She knew two things in that moment: that he would do everything in his power to bring her girl back, and that no matter the awkwardness of their past, she loved him fiercely and would forever.

"Thank you," she said, her eyes glistening with tears. Ron pulled her in for a quick hug and whispered in her ear.

"We'll find her. I promise."

"I'll come," said Harry at once.

"No!" barked Kingsley. "You're not to be involved with the investigation, Potter. You're a parent right now, not an Auror. I can't afford you on the job in this state." And then his voice softened slightly as he spoke again. "Let us work."

Harry seemed to struggle within himself for a moment before nodding once and turning to face the wall.

Both Ron and Kingsley left after that and Hermione was left alone with Harry, who still stood ramrod straight against the wall. She let her gaze travel from him to the long dining table which sat empty save for a crumpled note near the edge.

It had been a ransom note this time, short and to the point. She reached for it and smoothed it out over the top of the table, leaning down to read it once again.

THE CONTENTS OF YOUR VAULT

FOR HER LIFE

ILL KNOW IF YOU DONT EMPTY IT

A tear splashed on the surface of the paper, and Hermione wiped at her eyes furiously. She didn't have time to cry. She needed to have her wits about her.

She crumpled the note again and flung it across the room.

Ten minutes after the Aurors had descended on Cerridwen Court and begun to branch out over Godric's Hollow searching for any clues that may exist, the rest of the Weasleys had arrived with the Grangers in tow. Arthur, Bill, George, Percy, and Angelina had all joined Ron and the other Aurors in their search, but Molly and Helen had swept into the kitchen like twin forces of nature, conjuring pie and steaming vegetables out of the thinning contents of their refrigerator and sitting them all down to eat with the tone of matriarchs who would not be crossed.

Hermione and Harry sat side by side, flanked by Fleur and Frank Granger. Across the table, Andromeda sat with Teddy on her lap, next to Helen, and beside her was Molly who ordered them all to "eat up," and then dug into her own meal. They all ate in silence for several minutes before Harry set his fork down, his plate barely touched.

"Thank you," he said. "I think I'm going to… go lie down." He sounded unsure of himself and looked even more confused. Hermione ached to soothe him.

"Let me come with you," she said, moving to stand with him, but he shook his head.

"I think— can I be alone for a bit? Would that be okay?"

Hermione bit her lip and nodded.

"Yes, of course," she said, though his request stung more than she expected. She let him go without another word and sat quietly, worrying her lower lip until Andromeda spoke.

"I can't imagine what he must be feeling," she said. "Or you, Hermione. Is there anything I can do now?"

"You must tell us if there is," Fleur cut in. She was cradling a sleeping Victoire in her arms.

"I—" She couldn't think. The only thing she wanted now was to have her daughter safe in her arms, and aside from that all thoughts were lackluster and confused in her mind.

"Leave her be," ordered Molly. "Let her eat."

The other two women fell silent, returning to their own plates. Hermione gave Molly a grateful look, and the older woman nodded. There was silence for a another several minutes before Helen Granger spoke up, her voice forcefully cheery.

"Tell me, Molly, has there been any news about George and Angelina since your last letter?"

Molly smiled. "No, not yet. I'm certain I'm right though. There was a suspiciously box shaped lump in his jumper the other day."

"You should not press him so," Fleur interrupted her accented voice thick with exasperation. "I'm sure George will tell you when he is ready."

Molly harrumphed and turned back to Helen.

"Is he going to propose, then?" asked Andromeda. Teddy leaned forward as she was distracted, snatching a fistfull of vegetables off of her plate and then dumping them into the ground.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Molly said, her tone light and lofty.

"I would have thought Ginny before George," Andromeda continued, not noticing the darkening expression on Molly's face. "The way she and her young man carry on when they're together."

"Ah. No. Actually, they're no longer together."

Fleur's eyes were trained on her plate again, and Hermione noticed the tension in the room rising.

"Is that why she isn't here?" Hermione asked. "Did Theo jilt her?"

"She left him," said Molly, and she looked thunderous as she spoke. "And a damn good thing."

"Did something—" Hermione began, but Molly shook her head and stood up.

"Never you mind," she said. "You don't need to worry about Ginny. She'll be alright. Now, you'll have to tell me where these dishes go. I haven't cleaned in your kitchen before."

Hermione did as she was asked and then begged off, saying she had a headache and making her way out of the room and up the stairs to the second floor, where she knew several aurors were still looking around the nursery.

"Excuse me," she said, catching their attention. "Do you know where Ron Weasley is?"

"Yes, ma'am. Did you need to speak with him?" answered one of the group, his Irish accent thick.

She nodded.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Ron found her in the back garden when he arrived back at the house. She was sitting with her back against a tall tree and a notebook over her knees, writing furiously with muggle pen. Merlin she looked frantic. One of her lips was bleeding from where she had bit it too roughly, and her hair, which had been upswept when he had arrived and studded with crystals, was now in haphazard waves around her shoulders, tangled by the wind.

"Hermione?"

She looked up at the sound of his voice, startled.

"O'Brien said you wanted a word."

"Yes," she said. "Yes! Look. Have you got that list I asked you for?"

"The list?" he asked, confused.

Her eyes narrowed. "The one I asked about after the first blackmail note. You compiled it, didn't you?"

"Oh, that list. Yeah. It's not on me, but yeah."

"I need it," Hermione said at once.

Ron sighed. He'd been afraid of this. However bad having Harry on the case might have been, he knew Hermione would be ten times more controlling, and just as emotionally compromised.

"I can't do that."

"Like hell you can't," she said, standing more quickly than he'd been expecting and advancing on him. "That's my daughter out there, and I'm going to do everything I possibly can to find her. Are you going to stand there like a useless wretch and make me go through you, or are you going to help me, Ronald Weasley?"

She looked wild in her anger, and for a moment Ron thought she looked very much like his own mother, when she had fought in the Battle at Hogwarts.

"The list is being examined now," he said. "At the Ministry. We've got four of our best Aurors going over it with a fine toothed comb, and a couple more Unspeakables to boot. I promise, Hermione, we're narrowing down the suspects."

"Good for you," she snapped. "But I'm not interested in narrowing down anything. I want to find Delphi."

"We all want to find—"

"Tell me, Ron," Hermione interrupted. "Is Ginny on your list?"

"Excuse me?" She was mental, that was the only explanation. Her grief and heartache were making her lose her damn mind.

"Is. Your sister. On. That. List?"

"You need to calm down, Hermione. The more time I spend here talking to you, the less time I have to actually—"

"Right," she interrupted again, sounding brusk now, and she turned to grab her notebook off of the ground and then brushed past him toward the side gate. "Off you pop then."

"Hermione!" he called, shaking off his stunned surprise and moving to follow her. As soon as she'd gone through the gate, however, she disapparated. Ron swore.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Malfoy Manor

Narcissa was cold. She was always cold these days. The big, drafty house that had once been her pride and her joy was less crowning glory now, and more dank prison. She supposed it was her own fault, having let the place go rather than spend too much time dwelling on it. She had meant to cleanse the space ritually after the end of the war, but when Lucius had been sent to Azkaban, she hadn't had the heart. Now, every time she tried, she was petrified by one memory or another that popped out of the woodwork to terrify her. Morganna, the place was a house of horrors more than a home now, despite its sumptuous decorations and the house elves who kept it spotless.

She shivered, turning over in her large bed and staring out of the open window. She could see stars in the sky, and the last quarter moon beginning to rise. Was it already so late? She sat up, swinging her feet out of the bed and into a pair of silk slippers waiting on the floor. She couldn't shake the sense that something was wrong, that she had forgotten something important. No wonder she couldn't sleep.

A small pop sounded in the corner of her room, the familiar sound of a house elf appearing.

"Excusing me, Mistress."

"What is it Tottsy?" Narcissa turned to face the elf, arching one brow delicately in question.

"The Granger girl is come. She is wanting to speak, Mistress. She is not leaving even when Tottsy is telling her no."

"I'll come down, Tottsy, thank you."

The house elf bowed and disapparated once more, leaving Narcissa alone to dress, as was her custom. It was the work of only a few minutes to don one of her robes and charm her hair up into its usual twist, and when she was done, Narcissa descended, bypassing the master's chambers where Lucius slept, and made her way down two flights of stairs to the ground floor.

Granger stood in the drawing room beside a window. She was looking out onto the lawn, her back perfectly straight as she seemed lost in thought. Narcissa glanced from the girl to the rug at her feet. There was still a stain where her blood had fallen after Bellatrix had taken her blade to the Muggleborn. Narcissa had meant to replace the carpet all together but… it was a testament to her shame that she had been unable to part with.

"I'm surprised you chose to wait here," said Narcissa at last, breaking the silence.

Granger didn't answer for several seconds, but when she did, she turned her whole body to face Narcissa.

"Did you take Delphi?" Her words were sharp in the night air, and Narcissa drew in a breath.

"Is she missing?"

"Answer my question, Narcissa."

"Naturally, we're your first stop afterward. Things never change, do they?"

"You're not, actually. Answer my damn question."

"No. I haven't seen her outside of the newspapers since just after the end of the war."

Granger let out a sigh. She sounded relieved.

"What has happened?"

The girl sank onto one of the armchairs near the window and buried her face in her hand for a moment before meeting Narcissa's gaze.

"She's been taken. The Aurors are out in force, looking for her. It wouldn't surprise me if they showed up here eventually."

Narcissa's heart began to race.

"Is that a threat?"

The Granger girl's chuckle was hollow.

"No. I need your help, Mrs Malfoy."

Narcissa's brows arched up in surprise.

"My help? What help could I possibly give that the Ministry in its infinite wisdom cannot?"

"Tell me about the night Delphi was born," she demanded. She was sitting up straight again, holding a little booklet that Narcissa hadn't noticed which was open on her lap.

"Excuse me?"

Granger looked tired, and she rubbed her temple with one hand before looking down at her notebook and then up at Narcissa.

"I've been going over it in my head for an hour now. You told Harry no one knew about who Delphi's father was except for you, your husband, and Rodolphus." She seemed to be reading off of a list that she had made. "But if you didn't take her, someone else must have known. All of the Lestranges are dead, and Thorfinn Rowle is in prison, so even if Euphemia told him, he couldn't have done it. Euphemia herself can't remember what she did for an entire year, so she's not the culprit either." She lowered the booklet, training her gaze on Narcissa, who still stood at the edge of the carpet on the other side of the room. "That means we're missing something."

"The Dark Lord was specific about who should know," said Narcissa. "He would have killed anyone who broke his trust, and believe me when I say he would have known."

"Well," said Hermione, "If you lot were too cowardly to tell anyone—" Narcissa's nostrils flared. "Then someone else must have discovered the secret for themselves."

"Impossible." Narcissa dismissed. "Delphini never left the manor, and the Dark Lord had no interest in her. He saw her once on his own, after she was born, and then he left her to the house elves. No one would have suspected."

"Not even the elves?" Hermione asked, her head tilting to the side now as if she were curious. The question took Narcissa aback. Would the house elves have known? There were only four in residence at the manor, and Tottsy was one of only two in the house. Picksy was a kitchen elf, which left only—

"Tottsy!" Narcissa's voice was sharp in the dim room.

"Mistress?"

The house elf appeared behind her, and she whirled to face the creature.

"Tell me what you know of Delphini Lestrange."

"Potter," Granger corrected.

Tottsy bowed slightly as she began to speak. "Miss Delphini is daughter of Mr Potter and Granger Girl."

"Before that," said Narcissa impatiently.

Tottsy paused for a moment before speaking again.

"Miss Delphini is Missy Bella's baby."

"Who was her father?" Granger asked. Tottsy gave Narcissa a questioning glance.

"Answer her," the blonde demanded.

"The Dark Lord," Tottsy whispered.

"There, you see?" Granger said. "At least one person discovered the truth."

"Tottsy, have you told anyone what you suspect?!" Narcissa knew her voice was overly sharp, but if the house elf had told anyone...

"No, Mistress. Tottsy keeps the secrets of the house of Malfoy." The little house elf was bowing low now, so low that her ears nearly touched the floor.

"I forbid you from ever speaking the truth of Delphini Potter's birth again. To anyone, even myself. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"You are dismissed."

"Thank you, Tottsy," said Granger as the house elf popped out of view

"Merlin," swore Narcissa, as she crossed to sit in front of Granger on a slightly faded floral settee.

"Who else might you have over-looked, Narcissa? Are all the help house elves?" Granger's notebook was open again, and she held a Muggle pen at the ready.

"Yes, of course they are," Narcissa snapped.

"Even on the night Delphi was born?" the girl pressed.

"Yes," answered Narcissa through gritted teeth.

Granger sighed. "Okay, take me through the night. What happened?"

Impudent, outrageous girl.

"A child was born."

"Very clever."

"I don't know what you expect me to say. My sister felt the pains early in the morning. They lasted for hours, and she hid herself up stairs in her room. The Dark Lord got word and summoned Lucius and Rodolphus to his side, there to await the birth of his heir. I helped her through the pains until it was time to send for the midwife. She was summoned and—"

"The midwife?" Granger interrupted. "What did she know?"

"Nothing. That she had been called to attend the Dark Lord's Lieutenant."

"So, she knew that Voldemort"—Narcissa flinched at the name—"was here."

"Everyone even remotely close to the inner circle knew."

"What happened next?"

Narcissa sighed and leaned back in her seat, covering her eyes with one hand. "Shouting, groaning, blood and water. The usual aspects of birth…not that you would be familiar with them."

"No," Granger agreed, "I wouldn't be. Did anyone else come into the room?"

"No."

"Did Voldemort—"

"Circe, no. He sent Lucius with a message."

Granger grew still. "What did he say?"

"That she belonged to him, or some nonsense." Narcissa remembered being perturbed at the message herself. Her sister had been laboring for hours, in pain and desperation, and the Dark Lord had not had the decency to come himself to see her. She had known that his views were more antiquated, but she had thought he might have at least wanted to see for himself whether the child was male or female.

"Did the midwife hear?"

"What?" Narcissa snapped. "No. She couldn't have."

"Not even when you relayed the message to Bellatrix?"

"No, absolutely..." She paused, thinking.

"Ah," said Granger. "She could have."

"Yes." Narcissa swallowed. How much had the woman heard before…

"Might she have suspected?"

Narcissa shrugged. "It hardly matters. She lived less than a week after the birth. The Dark Lord ordered her dead to protect his secret."

"And in that week, who might she have told?" Granger was leaning forward now, her elbows on her knees and her brow furrowed.

No one, if she knew what was in her own best interest, Narcissa thought.

"I can't imagine she would have gone about bandying her suspicions. She was from a good family and would have known better."

"When you say a 'good family' do you mean they were Death Eaters?" There was no venom in the girls voice, which surprised Narcissa, only an intense curiosity and determination.

"Yes," Narcissa whispered.

"Which one?"

"She would not have told anyone," Narcissa repeated.

Granger sighed.

"Look, Narcissa. I don't like you. I think you're vicious and vain and too wrapped up in your own existence to give a damn about me… but Delphi, my daughter, is your niece. She's your blood, and I know blood means something to you. You fought a war because mine wasn't good enough. So please, I'm begging you, find it in your properly cold heart to help me find her. Tell me who the midwife was."

Narcissa glared at the girl… the young woman. She was a little older than Narcissa had been when she had married Lucius, and Narcissa recognized the same sort of fire and determination that she herself had held for different ideals once. And above all, love. Narcissa Malfoy knew what it was to love a child so much she would risk everything for them, and there in Hermione Granger's eyes, Narcissa saw a mirror.

"Her name was Cartesia," Narcissa began. "She was several years ahead of me at school. She married a Rosier but he was killed in the first war."

"And before she married?" Granger asked.

Narcissa sighed and told the young woman everything she knew.