Disclaimer: not mine

Warnings: dark, mention of child abuse, politics

Hope's Nest

Chapter 7:

Late evening found the British Minister of Magic ranting furiously to his wife, the light of the fire nearly as orange-reddish as his fair.

"I don't believe it. I had to spend two hours talking to some ignorant French fools that insisted on reporting a case of child abuse. Child abuse! As if those dark vermin were children! And they didn't even relent after I explained to them that they were dark wizards. I tell you, Mione, those foreign wizards sure have strange moral standards. They thought it a crime, a crime, Hermione! As if you could possibly commit a crime against dark wizards. And when I told them so, they had the audacity to call me an evil monster. Me, a light wizard, a monster, because I refuse to see a crime where none was committed."

Hermione Weasley sighed unhappily. It wasn't anything new that foreign wizards complained at the ministry about the vermin littering the streets of Diagon Alley. She could sympathize with her husband. Wizards from abroad just didn't seem to get the concept of light and dark wizards that came instinctually to British light Wizarding families. They only saw children while British wizards saw the true monster behind the child-mask.

Yet, that incident alone couldn't have made her husband rant for nearly an hour. There was more to the story, she was sure.

"Please, dear, sit down and tell me what happened. I need to know all of it if I am to help you."

Ron stopped his pacing and settled down on the couch next to his wife.

"There was another portkey incident reported." His voice sounded more defeated than angry now.

"Another portkey? Honestly, Ron, didn't you ordered them blocked? And what of the anti-portkey wards that were installed in Diagon Alley and nearly everywhere else?" Hermione questioned, indignant at the notion that another dark wizard escaped his confinement.

"The wards work on every portkey but the ones the children use to escape. And they are too powerful to be blocked. Believe me, we tried."

"Well, if you cannot block the portkeys you will have to block the source they come from. You do know where those monsters escape to, don't you?" Hermione reasoned her logic as flawless as ever.

"If only it were that easy. The monsters escape to "Hope's Nest". There is no way for us to interfere with the orphanage's business. It is protected. If the monsters where taken anywhere else I could order that place closed or degree it illegal. But there is no way to do so with "Hope's Nest", you know that."

"The name alone is a travesty. For that alone it should be closed and destroyed. But what do you mean, "it is protected"?"

"The orphanage is well known abroad. Nearly half of its inhabitants have a foreign citizenship in addition to their British one. Just yesterday I had a meeting with the French emissary, he reminded me that should anything happen to "Hope's Nest" or its inhabitants there would be hell to pay."

Hermione snorted derisively. "Please, what could they do? Declare war because of one measly orphanage?"

"That is exactly what I said, too. Do you know what he answered, Hermione?"

Seeing Hermione shake her head, he continued: "They would take it as the last sign that our society is evil and needs to be destroyed before the illness can spread over the rest of Europe like it did in Grindelwald's time."

The silence that followed his words was icy and foreboding.

A small teenage boy looked around the edge of the corridor that led to the orphanage's infirmary. He had black hair, delicate features, grey eyes and was really small for his fifteen years. Though if the healers were to be believed, it was a wonder he had grown at all, as malnourished as he had been. He had only shrugged his shoulders then and told them that his master liked his whores to be small and delicate.

Simon shook his head. He hated to think about his past and usually he succeeded very well in forgetting that there had ever been a time before "Hope's Nest". It was impossible not to remember though, when a newcomer lay in the infirmary. And the newcomers' first stay was always the infirmary, they were always nearly famished and they were always badly hurt.

Simon shuddered as his mind threatened to wander back to that terrible dark and cold room, to the men that came and used him, one after the other till he couldn't even breathe anymore.

Strictly he reminded himself that he had a task to fulfil. Nicodemus had gone straight to the infirmary when he came back from his friend's house and had stayed there for more than three hours now. Simon would just look if he was still there and then report back to the other children.

Slowly and soundlessly he walked to the infirmary door, entered and looked for his quarry. What he saw made him gasp in both fright and delight.

Nicodemus was sitting next to the bed of the newcomer, a girl, and glowing like a miniature red sun. Red lightening crackled over his and the girl's skin. And even from where he was standing Simon could see how shallow Nicodemus' breath had become.

Fear crept into his heart and panic stole into his eyes. What should he do? Nicodemus needed help, yet he had strongly forbidden anyone to touch or near him when he glowed or crackled in red light.

An adult! Simon needed an adult. Surely an adult would need what to do, how to help. Quickly Simon ran out of the infirmary and down the stairs. There were no other adults living in "Hope's Nest" but Nicodemus, most of the children were too afraid to sleep under the same roof with them. They liked their teachers and healers but they couldn't sleep in their presence. Sleep meant being vulnerable and their subconscious minds trusted only their saviour not to use their vulnerability.

Nicodemus had understood the children but insisted that they went to fetch a house-elf when they needed an adults' help and he wasn't available. The house-elves would know who to call.

Simon reached the entrance hall. Calling out for a house-elf, he didn't notice there was a man in the hall till he ran into him.

Simon's already weak hold on his panic snapped and he started to scream.

Draco didn't know what he had expected upon his arrival at "Hope's Nest", but to be nearly bowled over by an obviously panicked boy hadn't been among it.

He started when the dark haired boy started to scream. It wasn't a sound Draco had ever heard from any human being. It was a shrill, never ending note that went straight through his marrow. The scream would have made a Banshee green with envy and it froze Draco's soul to hear it come from a little boy.

Where the hell is everyone? Surely they heard his scream? Why isn't anyone coming? They must think someone is skinning the boy alive.

Draco had no experience with children, let alone abused children. He didn't want to do anything that would make the boy feel worse and he was relatively sure that coming near him or touching him would make it worse.

Slightly panicked himself he looked frantically around the hall, but there wasn't anyone there.

"Shh, calm down. I won't hurt you. Do you know where Mr.Stormcrow is? I am Draco Malfoy; I come from a Slytherin family. What is your name?" he babbled in the hope that at least some of what he said would come through the boy's panic and fear.

Nicodemus wouldn't have left any of his children screaming like that without investigating. But I know for a fact that he went here. The boy was running down the stairs, he didn't even see me. Think Draco, think! Nicodemus told you the children were overprotective of him, there must have happened something to him to have the boy so panicked.

"Did something happen to Nicodemus? Does he need help? Where is he?"

Slowly words reached him through the protective haze his mind had erected. Nicodemus…name…Slytherin…Nicodemus…help…Nicodemus! He needs help an adult! Simon finally snapped out of his fear induced panic and stopped screaming.

"Nicodemus needs help. He isn't breathing right and he glows and we aren't allowed to come near him when he does and he needs an adult and the house-elves know who to call and…"bubbled out of the still scared boy.

He looked at the unknown man. Silver eyes, silver-blond hair, tall, expensive clothes. Simon had never seen the man before, but he knew that the wards kept people with hostile minds out of the grounds, so there was no reason to be afraid of him.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice quivering slightly.

"My name is Draco Malfoy. I was having dinner with Mr.Stormcrow before he had to leave due to an emergency. I came here to see if I could help. My apologies for frightening you." Draco answered, trying to stay calm despite his worry about Nicodemus.

"Please bring me to Mr.Stormcrow. If I am to help him I need to know which kind of help he needs."

Simon shook his head. "He is doing magic to help heal the new girl. He did it to help me, too. But his breath is getting shallow, which it shouldn't and normally doesn't. He said it is dangerous to approach him when he does that kind of magic. You won't be able to help him."

The boy sounded scared and defeated. If it is dangerous to approach him it is even more dangerous to cast healing spells at him. The boy said he's glowing and Severus was worried tonight when he started to do so at dinner…Severus! He should know what to do!

Fast Draco went to the fireplace in the back of the hall, threw floopowder into it and called "Snape Manor".

The young girl's soul plane was dark and icy. Red fog made it impossible to see one's own hand in front of his eyes. Normally a child's soul plane was a sunny place, filled with toys, fairies, unicorns and laughter.

Nicodemus had learned the hard way that an abused child's soul plane was always dark. It was the child's hiding place while simultaneously reflecting the monstrosities they had endured.

He didn't walk; he led his magic draw the girl's soul to him. Slowly a shape became visible, a mere shadow in the fog. It was the girl, her form curled in herself, her eyes closed, her arms hugging her knees.

The form drifted to him, till he held her curled form carefully in his arms. He treated the soul as if it was more fragile than a glass figurine.

"Hello there, little one." He whispered his magic pulsing through his arms into the unconscious girl.

Curiosity flowed back at him.

"My name is Nicodemus Stormcrow."

The girl's presence grew stronger.

"What is your name, little one?"

Thoughtfulness then hesitantly whore?

Nicodemus shook his head, his heart crying endless tears. To think what had been sacrificed to save this world and now there were children that thought their names were "whore", "slut" or "it".

"No. My name is "Nicodemus Stormcrow". You are?"

Hesitance, remembering, soft voices, bright smiles then joyfully Nimue

"A beautiful name. A pleasure to make you acquaintance, Nimue."

Joy, curiosity, question

"You are lost, Nimue. I am here to show you the way back."

Refusal, terror, hurt

"You are safe at "Hope's Nest". Remember? You activated the portkey."

Pain, horror, hope?

"Yes, you are safe."

The shadow in his arms began to solidify. The girl's eyelashes fluttered, her presence growing stronger with every breath she took.

Home, hope, trust

"That's right, Nimue. You will have a home at "Hope's Nest". We are a big family there."

Slowly Nimue opened her eyes. Her now solid body gaining colour, she had wavy, light brown hair and striking pastel green eyes. Her lips curled to a tired, but hopeful smile. Nicodemus smiled back, his tired eyes showing his pride in her.

Nimue opened her mouth and after several tries she managed to form words. "Home?" she inquired.

"Yes, we are going home now." Nicodemus answered smiling.

His eyes glowed brightly, enveloping both their forms, the darkness already growing brighter. Then they vanished from the soul plane, their minds going back into their bodies.

TBC