VIII

Characters aren't mine. Weak attempt at plot is. Boring dialogue is. Emotions and humour belong to everyone. The ability to express them eloquently belongs to a lucky few- I am not one of them.

Just a quick sales pitch here: Bry has finally posted and she rocks so go check out her stuff under my favourites- thatappleyweirdgirl. Please come back to me after- I know I'm inferior but I do try.

Also, I wrote a short fluffy/angsty monstrosity last week. You may enjoy it for a laugh. At me, not with me.

Travelling in the back of the taxi, Hermione finally found time to sit and simply think over the last few days. Things had happened so quickly she had hardly paused for a proper breath, let alone proper thought. At night she had fallen immediately into deep slumber, before dreams made her restless.

She, April and Neville had continued to look through the photo album that afternoon. They had found pictures of Harry, Ron, Hermione and their friends that dated from their second year, right through until about the time Colin died, though the number taken after they left school was considerably less.

But the most surprising thing was that from about their sixth year on, there were just as many, if not more pictures, of Ginny and her friends. After finding one of Ginny that was a close up of the back of her shoulders and neck, with her face caught in profile, just as she turned, the light illuminating and softening her features, Hermione had been struck by a strange thought. Maybe Colin had developed a crush on Ginny? When Hermione had mentioned this idea to Neville he had agreed that the same thought had occurred to him. It was not impossible; Ginny had been an attractive girl, many young men at Hogwarts had fancied her, why not Colin? But he had been so devoted to Harry, how could he have feelings for Harry's girlfriend?

Hermione had realised, much to her chagrin, that they had come to view Colin as being a fixture, so used to seeing him in one light that he had lost his humanity in their eyes- they no longer thought of him as a being who had emotions and thoughts, who could grow and change, but who remained in a certain mould always in their minds.

Colin had been more than just the obsessive kid who had worshiped Harry Potter and liked using a camera, he had been a young man capable of developing feelings for a girl, albeit, Harry Potter's girl. Although that, she also realised, may have initially have played a role in causing him to admire Ginny.

Hermione had been in tears twice more before they had finished looking though the album. This had unsettled April somewhat, but she was used to Hermione occasionally crying for no comprehensible reason- for no six year old can truly understand the effects of grief- though Hermione had told her it was because she missed her friends. Neville had been wonderful, distracting the girl and telling her stories of his years at school with Harry and Ginny, though he must have been feeling grief also.

When they finished, Hermione had told April to take the album through to her room and look at it there- the girl was still interested in the novelty of moving pictures, though she thought it was like television. Surprisingly, despite the fact that she was quite taken with Neville, the girl had gone without fuss, Hermione could only surmise that it was due to her own upset state and April was trying to spare her more difficulty.

Then she and Neville had properly talked things through. She had told him about the difficulties that she had experienced with April's schooling and he told her in depth about the work he did. Eventually, when it became clear that Hermione was probably going to accept his offer, they talked arrangements. Hermione had been adamant that she would only be involved if April's existence remained a secret- hence their travelling by car rather than more traditional wizarding methods.

He had offered to let them stay with him in Berlin, at least for a while, and Hermione had accepted that also. It would make it easier to look after April while she arranged things. If she came out in the open while still living in her old flat, April would soon be discovered by their enemies, and this way Neville could help by looking after her while Hermione was out without having to stay away from the comfort of his own home. Hermione hadn't resigned from her job- now that she need not fear to apparate, there was no difference between working up the road and working in a different country- but she had applied for a part-time position which would leave her with more time for the DA. Neville had insisted he help out with money, since she would be working for the organisation. Hermione had been forced to agree that such an arrangement was fair, she just hoped her work would be worth it.

She had contacted her landlord and told him that she was moving and, having already paid him for that month, given him three weeks notice, though she would be gone long before the three weeks was up. She had spent the last two days packing, marvelling at times at how much stuff a woman and child could collect over five years, and cleaning the apartment. Then, she and April, had taken a cab to the airport and got on a flight to Berlin.

April had been hugely exited- she had never been on an airplane before. For Hermione it had brought back memories of the holidays she had taken with her parents as a child and teenager, and the memories, while happy ones, had made her somewhat melancholy for the duration of that stage of their journey.

At the Berlin airport, they had managed to find a taxi which was now taking them to Neville's house on the outskirts of the city. The driver was a friendly muggle whose English and French were almost as abysmal as Hermione's German, and their few attempts at conversation had provided much amusement for both parties.

So now, with April asleep against her, Hermione had nothing to do but stare out the window at the city they travelled through and brood.

Her main concern was whether she had done the right thing by April. Even though Neville had promised her that the child would be safe and they had discussed ways of keeping her existence a secret even when Hermione revealed herself, she was plagued by the fear that somehow it would all be futile. Who truly knew what resources the other side had? April was so young, helpless, reliant on Hermione for protection and care, had she placed her irrevocably in harm's way. And if not, how long until she did?

Hermione's concerns were without logic. Although April was not her child, in this respect she was like any mother- she feared for her instinctively, regardless of the true level of danger. And like any mother, she held herself entirely responsible for the child's safety and happiness.

Also Hermione was worrying about how much value she would actually be to the DA. She acknowledged that she had shown great potential as a girl and young woman, both magically and intellectually. But only she knew how many hours she had spent practicing and studying for her success. And in the last years? She had used only minor magic, had no access to magical scripts or even learned how to live in adult wizarding society. Her job had left her with time and energy for April, and even a few research projects into muggle society and history, but it had not challenged her or extended her abilities. Who knew how much she had lost? And she knew nothing of complex negotiations and international diplomacy. What could she truly offer?

Underlying these concerns, as it shadowed most of her thoughts and emotions, was the grief that never left her.

The taxi arrived at a pair of large metal gates. Beyond them stretched a long drive that disappeared around the hill. Hermione wondered how they would get in- no-one at the house could see them from here.

The driver had noticed what she had missed: He wound down his window and pressed the button on a small intercom attached to one of the gate mounts. He spoke rapidly into it in German- Hermione was only able to make out her own name. There was a brief silence before cultured accents could be heard through the crackle of static. The driver wound up his window, and as the gates swung open, he put the car into gear and accelerated forward. Hermione only then noticed the symbol that was wrought in the iron of the gates: It was pair of crossed wands over a crooked looking wizard's hat. Hermione immediately realised that the hat must be Dumbledore's- she had never actually seen another wizard wear one.

The road wound only a short way around the curve of the hill before an imposing edifice came into view. The only way Hermione could describe it to herself was to say that it looked like a cross between a ruined castle and a very modern muggle museum: Part of the walls were layered stone, weather beaten and looking very much as though they had survived several centuries. The stone extended down into the wall that bordered the gardens around the turning circle. The rest of the walls and- presumably- the roof, were constructed of metal and glass, with huge windows that extended most of the width and height of the building, giving glimpses of the rooms inside where the sunlight fell on polished wooden floors and designer furniture. She had never seen anything like it, who in their right mind would combine those styles of construction? Yet it worked, somehow. The balance was right, the grey of the stones blended well with the colour of the metal, while the contrast in their texture was pleasing to the eye.

Still marvelling, Hermione gently leaned April- who was deeply asleep after all the excitement of the journey- back against the seat and undid her safety belt. She climbed from the car and was moving toward the boot- where they had a small amount of luggage- when she heard herself hailed. She turned to see Neville walking toward her from the house.

"You made it!" he exclaimed, smiling widely. "Where's April?"

Hermione gestured toward the back seat. "Sleeping. All tuckered out from her first plane flight."

"Of course. I still remember my first broom flight…" His look turned introverted for a moment.

The taxi driver had arrived to help Hermione lift the bags out, and as they piled them on the driveway she heard Neville open the taxi door and murmur under his breath. As she straightened up, he did also, holding a sleeping April against his shoulder. "I think it would be best if she stayed asleep for the moment… there's someone I need to introduce you to." He handed a few notes to the driver and waited as the man got in the car and drove away. "Come into the house."

Hermione bent to pick up a couple of bags. "Leave them," he said, "my house elf will deal with them." He turned and walked up the steps. Hermione followed. As she got closer to the doorway she saw someone standing just inside it.

Neville looked nervous. "Hermione, someone else stays here with us. One of the DA's oldest and most loyal members. May I reintroduce you to-" The man stepped through the doorway. Hermione had an impression of a very fine robe before her eyes moved to his face and a feeling of fear and anger welled up in her stomach as she recognised- "Draco Malfoy."