February 6th

It was a Saturday evening and scarcely anybody was around. Hermione's footsteps echoed in the silent Atrium as she walked past the security desk and the bored young wizard who was playing wizard's chess with himself.

She should feel safe here, and until she stepped out of the elevator on the fourth level, she had. Until she was faced with the long, dark, empty corridors, it had never crossed her mind that the lack of people around would be a problem. She wasn't one to be afraid of the dark. And the security levels here at the Ministry had improved a great deal since she and her friends had broken into the Department of Mysteries all those years ago. Nobody got in without clearance, and nobody could sneak out unnoticed, so attacking her in here wouldn't be a very good idea if they wanted to get away with it. She had no reason to fear.

Hermione squared her shoulders and shook the strange uneasiness from her mind. Lighting up the corridors one by one, she started making her way toward her office and determinedly focused her thought on more cheerful subjects. Like the day, not so long ago, when Ginny, Luna and some of her other friends had "kidnapped" her at the end of her work day. They'd taken her to the Burrow and treated her to good food, intense pampering and a lot of embarrassing questions. If there was one thing she'd never forget, however, however, it was the spot-on imitation of Kingsley Shacklebolt dancing tango performed by none other than Philadelphia Trolley.

Hermione'd come home late that night, only to be met by an accusing look from Crookshanks and an embrace by a grumpy Lucius who complained about being left all to himself while she was out amusing herself.

Well, she thought, grinning to herself, it's his turn now. Not that she had fooled herself into thinking he'd appreciate Harry's and Draco's visit, but she knew that by this hour, Lucius was either suffering agonies or enjoying himself at their expense. Her smile widened. She loved the lot of them, but perhaps she loved Ginny the most for coming up with the idea. Lucius needed some cheering up.

Hermione flicked her wand once again, and another corridor lit up. She sighed and waddled on, wondering to herself if the Ministry had really always been this vast? It was only half past five, however, so she'd have plenty of time to check her office and then perform the main task she had set out for herself before joining Ginny as she'd promised. It had been a fairly spontaneous idea, born from necessity more than anything else.

To say that the past month had been chaotic would be an understatement: she and Lucius had had to deal with an attack by the two unknown assailants in Diagon alley, with Lucius's past dealings with Eloise, with Hermione's legilimency-induced nightmares, with an intense emotional crisis and near break-up, with the remodelling of the Manor wall and with the subsequent revelation about Lucius's ancestors...

It was enough to make her head spin. On the positive side, she'd had no more nightmares, there were no more secrets between her and Lucius, and in less than a week she'd be married and any day within the next five weeks or so, she'd become a mother. And she was grateful and happy about all those things. But there were things she needed to do before her life changed so dramatically - such as tracking down their attacker.

She'd made long lists, jotting down everything they knew about them. The latest version was tucked into her pocket, profiling the attacker as someone who:

- Had reason to resent the relationship between Lucius and me

- Knew about the pregnancy before we had told anyone but Draco

- Polyjuiced themselves into a mediwitch to get Lucius's blood

- Was related to Lucius by blood

- Had opportunity to perform the attacks

- Knew which healer we've appointed, and broke into his office

- Is a skilled legilimens

- Had an accomplice at the latest attack, where one of them was wounded

Unfortunately, even though it was quite a long list, it was not enough. And the more Hermione tried and failed to make sense of it all, the more strongly she felt that she was missing something. Something that ought to be obvious. Like she had missed the pattern of sons in Lucius's family history. It was frustrating, to say the least. And even though Harry had said it wouldn't take more than a couple of weeks, Harry still hadn't been able to track down the attackers from Diagon Alley. She knew he was working hard to try to find witnesses and figure out how the magic had worked, and check any other lead there might be. But it wasn't enough.

So here Hermione was, determined to at least get started on the genealogy of Eloise Greengrass, who was the only one of their original suspects that was still left unresearched. Patrick wasn't related to Lucius. Narcissa and Arthur were. But thus far, Patrick and Arthur had been ruled out because they had alibis for at least one of the attacks.

Technically, so did Eloise: Astoria had given her an alibi for the attack outside Greengrass House. And there were other things speaking against her being the attacker. She'd never given the slightest hint that she resented Hermione' relationship with Lucius (though if she did, Hermione was fairly certain jealousy would have something to do with it). Eloise did have reason to resent Lucius personally for the way he'd treated her, but then again, the attacks were directed at Hermione, not Lucius. And Eloise couldn't have known about the pregnancy, nor which healer they had appointed. Not unless Astoria had told her.

Still, though Eloise was unlikely to be the attacker, Hermione wouldn't rest until she'd checked if she was related to Lucius or not. After quickly popping into her office to get a few files, therefore, she'd take the elevator down to the archives.

Walking past her colleagues' closed office doors, she looked forward to the prospect of sitting down a few minutes to rest her legs and back. Pregnancy had been a wonderful experience, but she was close to that phase when one had simply had enough. It was, after all, possible to feel too heavy, too sleep-deprived and too fed up with back pains and other ailments. As soon as the wedding was over, the baby was welcome to vacate her uterus as quickly as possible.

That strange uneasiness came over her again, however, p as she spoke the password and opened the door to her office. The lights were already on, causing her - even before she registered that something was wrong - to raise her wand as she stepped into the room. A spell was on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't have time to use it.

"Expelliarmus!" another voice suddenly called out, causing Hermione's wand to slip from her grasp and fly across the narrow office space.

At the same time, the door closed behind her with a bang. The next moment, the clicking of a lock echoed in the silence, and Hermione looked up at the person before her, gaping with astonishment.

"Patrick!?"

It was indeed Patrick. He was standing behind her desk, pointing his wand at her and keeping her wand in a firm grip in his other hand. His golden hair was tousled, as if he'd pulled at in distress, but though he looked surprised, he didn't appear ashamed to get caught in her office. On the contrary, he looked happy to see her.

"Hello Hermione", he said softly, and calmly tucked her wand into his back pocket.

Immediately ruling out the opportunity that he'd disarmed her by mistake, Hermione admonished herself harshly. She couldn't believe this was happening. Just because he couldn't be the attacker, she'd assumed he was safer during forgotten about him. Perhaps Lucius had been right all along.

"How did you get in here?" she asked guardedly.

"Legilimency", he said in a conversational tone, shrugging slightly. "After Hogwarts, I learned from a true master, and besides, you're a terrible occlumens. It wasn't hard to pick your brain for the password."

Shit. Was she really that worthless when it came to protecting her own mind?

Patrick gestured for her to sit down, but not before transforming the rickety visitors' chair into a comfortable arm chair in the same intense blue colour as his eyes. While Hermione hesitated, he seated himself in her office chair, crossing his legs leisurely as if he had no worries in the world.

"Sorry about your wand, by the way", he said, when she eventually decided that she might as well rest her feet while she assessed this situation. "I'll give it back to you soon, but I need to talk to you, and you tend to get a little violent when I say things you don't want to hear. "

Patrick's behaviour puzzled her. Everything about his manner was friendly and relaxed. There was nothing in his appearance or demeanor that suggested he had any bad intentions. He looked like the well-behaved boy next door, whom she might set up for a date with a friend if things had been different. He spoke to her as if they were having a chat over a cup of coffee at lunch break.

But everything about the situation was decidedly abnormal. A normal chat between colleagues usually didn't involve being disarmed and locked in a room late at night against your will. How was she going to get out of here? Nervously picking on her coat with shaking fingers, she hoped he just wanted to talk.

"How did you know I was coming here?" she asked.

"I didn't", Patrick said, smiling brightly.

"Then what were you doing in my office?"

Hermione's eyes were flicking between him, his wand, her desk, all around the room - but he kept looking her intently in her eyes. She looked away quickly, down at her coat and the pilling she was plucking at. Glancing back up at him, she found that his gaze had travelled down to her belly and that a troubled look had replaced his fond smile.

"Looking for a way to save you", he said seriously.

"From what?"

Patrick frowned and shifted in his seat.

"It's -" he began, but cut himself off and shook his head as if he couldn't find the words.

In the silence that followed, Hermione admitted to herself that she already knew what he wanted to save her from - or rather, whom. And she was very much aware that there was a second question that was much more crucial. A question she did not yet dare ask. And that questions was: How?

What was he planning to do to her? As far as she knew, he had to reason to actually hurt her. But perhaps it would have been better if he did. Because if he attacked her, her baby would protect her. She knew that beyond a doubt. The problem was that she'd just become aware that a simple disarming spell had not been enough to trigger the baby's protective insincts. Did that mean she was defenceless as long as Patrick never directly attacked her? What if he tried to stun her - would that be enough? Or if he incarcerated her? She wasn't willing to wait and see.

"I know I don't deserve you, Hermione", Patrick suddenly blurted out.

Hermione was surprised to see that the polite smile he'd worn had been replaced by something deeper and more raw. Affection - and agony. He leaned foward on the desk, his underarms pressed against the wooden surface and both hands clutching his wand.

"I understand if you never grow to love me, that's fine, but as long as I can save you from him, I'll be satisfied", he continued with determination. "You've made some really poor choices, but I'm not giving up on you."

Hermione felt like a teenager being unfairly chastised, but kept quiet. Just keep him talking and find out what he wants, she told herself.

"I won't give up on you", Patrick repeated, more calmly. "Do you know why?"

Hermione shook her head. Perhaps, if she was fast enough, she could snatch his wand from his hands? It was less than a metre away from her.

"For two reasons", Patrick said. "First, because I know you're the victim in this whole situation. And second, because I love you."

Hermione's mouth fell open. He was right about one thing: she was a victim. A victim of vicious attacks both physically and emotionally. A victim of everyone's prejudices. A victim of people continuously breaking into her office. A victim of Lucius's fear of driving her away, even. Sure. But loved by Patrick?

"You don't believe me?" he challenged, and Hermione thought she saw something dark ignited in the depth of his eyes.

"No", she admitted. She didn't want to antagonise him, but she had to be honest.

"Do you know why I hate Lucius Malfoy?" Patrick asked.

She nodded slowly. "Harry told me."

Patrick's eyes narrowed. And when he spoke next, his tone was devoid of all friendliness:

"He broke into our home with a group of other Death Eaters at the beginning of the war. The others tortured my mum and dad, while he watched. She was muggle born, so he killed her. My father was allowed to live, no doubt to tell the tale and suffer the humiliation of never getting any justice. He was killed at the battle of Hogwarts. I was abroad, or I would have been there with him. With you."

Patrick fell silent, looking up for a moment, blinking at the slightly cracked ceiling. Hermione wanted to cry for the innocent woman, and for the boy who'd lost his parents, but couldn't find anything to say. She wanted to tell him she was sorry, and that she knew Lucius had done wrong. But she had a feeling Patrick was neither looking for condolences nor apologies.

"You fought in that battle yourself, Hermione", Patrick resumed after a short pause, his voice still tense. "You saw Malfoy there, among Voldemort's other followers. You fought against everything he stood for. And I know - I know that deep down in that beautiful soul of yours, you know that what you're doing right now is wrong. Lucius Malfoy is evil!" Patrick banged his fist against the table. "If you had been anybody else, I would have despised you for choosing him, but you - I can't just leave you to your fate. I can't. This isn't you."

She suppressed a sigh. Patrick had everything going for him: he was handsome, clever and seemed generally well liked - but one thing was clear: the love he professed for her was missing something essential. She could understand, even emphathize with, his hatred for Lucius. She could comprehend his will to save her from what he perceived to be a horrible fate. But she could not accept that he had never once asked for her opinions, her input, her experiences. He was in love with an image of her, but cared nothing for the real Hermione.

"That's why I'm here", Patrik continued, calm once again. "I was looking for any clue as to how and when I could find you alone. That's all I've been waiting for. Everything else has been prepared for weeks." He smiled triumphantly and leaned towards her to speak in a low voice, as if entrusting her with a secret. "And here you are."

"Prepared?" Hermione asked, frowning. "For what?"

"For our escape."

Hermione stared at him, expecting an explanation, but he seemed to think he was making perfect sense. Harry had said something about Patrick behaving oddly. Buying women's things, looking at travelling brochures. Were those for her?

"I'm not following you", she finally said. She was starting to become really afraid now, and thought her voice sounded strange. Strangled, somehow.

"We're leaving tonight", Patrick told her firmly. "I'm saving you."

No, no, no! Why hadn't she worked harder on bettering her wandless magic? She'd read about it, and planned to start training properly, but had never gotten around to it. Now she was helpless, and couldn't even think of a way to get help.

"I'm not going anywhere", she said, trying to sound equally firm.

If only she hadn't insisted on burning that stupid napkin last summer, then Lucius would be able to see that she was in danger. Or if only she had followed through on the idea she'd had the other day, of renewing the charm on some old DA-coins so she and Lucius could use them in case of emergency.

"I know, Hermione", Patrick soothed, cutting off her frantic thoughts. "I knew you wouldn't leave him voluntarily. You're too deep in his clutches. But don't worry, I have a plan."

She slipped her fingers inside her coat pocket. She had one of the coins there. If only she could pour some of her magic into one of the coins... It was a long shot - nobody would be carrying those around anymore - but it seemed to be her only chance.

"I'm not going with you", Hermione repeated, vexed at the unwelcome tremor in her voice.

Patrick didn't seem to notice what she was doing, but just when her fingers closed around one of the cool metal plates, he laughed, and she flinched. The coin not only slipped from her fingers, but fell to the ground, rolling under the desk until it settled right beneath Patrick's feet. He glanced down curiously at the coin, but though he didn't seem to think much about it, she knew she'd lost her chance.

"I have a group of friends", Patrick said. "They live a very isolated life in the north of Finland. So isolated, in fact, that scarcely anyone knows they're there at all. I'm taking you there. You can give birth to your child, and then we'll give it up for adoption. And after a few years, when you disappearance has been forgotten, we can start our lives afresh anywhere we like."

Hermione stared at him. The thought of giving her baby up, of leaving Lucius, her friends - No.

"Do you think Lucius would just accept that?" Hermione challenged, trying to fight the feeling of hopelessness and dread settling deep inside her. "He'd come and find me."

"I'd like to see him try", Patrick said darkly. "My friends have very strong wards, you see. Strong enough to kill anyone who tried to trespass."

Hermione was at a loss for words. What could she do? She saw now way out of this. Her fear increased as she watched Patrick rise from his seat.

"I need to know if you'll come willingly, Hermione", he said.

Hermione shook her head, holding on tightly to the armrests of her chair. "No."

"It's for your own good", he pleaded, extending his hand in invitation. "Please, Hermione."

Patrick had rounded her desk, and was now completely cornering her. If she'd been armed, she would have fought him. But she was helpless, and unwelcome images of that night flashed through her mind. Helpless. Cornered. Alone. Still, she shook her head.

"Then you're not leaving me with much choice", he said grimly.

The simple act of breathing became more difficult as Hermione stared at the wand in Patrick's hand. It was pointing straight at her. She pressed herself against the backrest of the arm chair, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

Patrick's electric blue eyes met hers, but the reassuring smile on his lips only caused chills to run down her back.

"I'm going to obliviate Lucius Malfoy from your memory."