Chapter 5

Panic. It was an unfamiliar emotion for Narcissa. She was a Slytherin, she handled things in a calm and rational manner and she had her equally Slytherin husband at her side to aid her in doing so.

Not since 1981, before the Dark Lord had been vanquished and her mad sister had been sent to prison, had she felt so out of control. Abraxas was supposed to have been the last obstacle to their freedom and their happiness. She was only given approximately a hundred days to enjoy that freedom.

The frantic almost nonsensical letter from Hermione during the last week of Hogwarts term was alarming. On top of the fact that Lucius had already visited the school in the last weeks to take care of the issue of a dragon on the grounds, it felt especially ominous. Because it meant that all was obviously not well at Hogwarts, and the staff could not be counted upon to keep the students safe.

Draco's terse, one line reply to her inquiry about his well being was more concerning still. His absolute refusal to acknowledge Hermione at Kings Cross was like a knife to the heart. She hugged and kissed the girl in greeting, ignoring Draco's cold behavior. To her very great relief, she found that Hermione was anxious to speak with her in private. They agreed to meet the next day for a chat.

Draco's attitude was atrocious. She knew he was upset about losing the house cup, but that didn't excuse his behavior. He wouldn't talk about what was bothering him beyond that, but any mention of Hermione was met with a sneer or the occasional snide remark. Lucius seemed to find their quarrel rather amusing, he simply chalked it up to typical childish behavior. Though by the end of his first night home, Draco's surly behavior was wearing on his father as well.

Hermione arrived bright and early the next morning. They settled into a sitting room adjacent to the master suite in the wing that she and Lucius had inhabited since their marriage, for what would turn out to be the longest- literally and metaphorically- discussion of Narcissa's life. They'd not been in the room five minutes when the story came pouring out of the poor girl.

It soon became apparent that there was actually a lifetime of sorrow in this tale, not just the past weeks. She began by explaining how she'd never fit into her parents' world, how lonely her childhood had been, how she knew her parents fretted about her accidental magic. Her acceptance to Hogwarts had been a relief for them all.

Narcissa knew most of this, primarily from talking to Helen. But the details Hermione gave her that morning made it clear that she'd seriously underestimated how difficult muggle life had been for the young witch. And her mother's heart broke when she realized this child had hidden quite a bit from her parents, in an effort to protect them.

As heartbreaking as that was, it was worse to hear about her first months at Hogwarts. About how alone she felt when she was rejected for her blood status and her studiousness. About her despair at realizing she didn't fit in any better in the magical world than she did in the muggle world.

So much worse, because it was the beliefs Narcissa had held for a lifetime, right up until a few months ago, views she'd taught her son, that had caused Hermione this pain. Shame was not a feeling she was accustomed to, and she didn't enjoy it. But she held her emotions in check, allowing Hermione to unburden herself without interference.

Unfortunately, it just continued to get worse: her foolish son challenging the Potter boy to a duel, which led to Hermione and her housemates being out after curfew and discovering a Cerberus tucked away in a forbidden corridor, hidden behind only the simplest of locking spells. A troll wandering the castle and very nearly killing her precious girl before Narcissa had ever even gotten to meet her. She'd thought the dragon was bad.

Well, it was bad, but at least it hadn't been inside the castle.

And then, foolish Gryffindors that they were, Hermione and her friends couldn't let the mystery of the Cerberus go. They'd spent half the school year poking around things they had no business being involved in. Things that turned out to be far more dangerous than a giant three headed dog.

It was when Hermione confirmed the suspicion that Narcissa had developed as she told her tale that the older witch truly began to panic. The Dark Lord wasn't dead. He wasn't even vanquished from these shores. He had been in the castle with her children all year.

Narcissa would have liked to believe this was all the result of a child's overactive imagination. She wanted to scold Hermione for telling tales and forget about it. She longed to forget this conversation had ever happened.

But she couldn't, not if she valued her family's safety. Because she didn't really think that Hermione would fabricate such a story. And as she continued to talk, it became clear that she wouldn't have been able to even had she wanted.

She simply knew too much. She had too many details, too much knowledge about how certain archaic magicks worked to have made it up. No twelve year old witch could have, especially not one raised outside of their community.

However, her story didn't end there. After the traumatic events inside the headmaster's demented obstacle course, the two boys that had been with her had injuries requiring hospitalization, but Hermione had simply been sent to bed without so much as a calming draught. And the following days nobody spoke to her, soothed her, or even punished her for her recklessness.

Then, at the Leaving Feast, the three Gryffindors were bizarrely allocated house points for their rule breaking, which pushed their house over the top for the cup. It was a nonsensical and disturbing series of events. What was Dumbledore playing at?

But it was the wretched way Hermione sobbed Draco's name, insisting he would never forgive her for doing something so dangerous, and then being rewarded for it, that was the last straw for Narcissa. After everything she'd been through, it was the weight of the guilt over hurting Draco that was crushing her.

It was further proof that the bond between them was powerful. But, here, was an unexpectedly dangerous side of that power: you couldn't hurt one of them without hurting the other. Which meant that disagreements between them could be cataclysmic.

At least this time she could put Hermione's fears to rest. She knew her son well enough to know that this was not beyond repair.

"Sweet girl, Draco will forgive you, I promise you that," she soothed, smoothing Hermione's hair out of her face.

"He hates me," Hermione wailed, as she wiped her eyes with the handkerchief Narcissa had charmed dry for at least the fifth time.

"He doesn't hate you. He's upset, and while I will admit he has reason to be upset, he is being rather petulant about it," she corrected.

"I don't blame him, he should be mad at me, I would be so mad if I were him," Hermione insisted.

Narcissa nodded.

"Yes, but that will pass. Do you know how I know that?"

Hermione hiccuped and shook her head.

"He's only as angry as he is because he cares for you so deeply. The issue with the house cup is just an excuse, he knows that wasn't really your fault. But you scared him, and he's covering that by being angry and sulking."

"But doesn't that make it worse?! He's my best friend, he's the only one who really listens to me or cares what I think, but I went along with Harry and Ron and I hurt him!" she sobbed dramatically.

Narcissa sighed, they truly had a Gryffindor in the family now.

"Sometimes we hurt the ones we love, and sometimes they hurt us, it's the risk we take in giving parts of ourselves to others. And I'm not going to sugar coat it, there is a lot to be remorseful for in your behavior, we will be having a long talk about that, and about how to avoid getting yourself into trouble like this again. But one thing I know that you didn't mean to do is to hurt Draco, and when he calms down a little he'll see that too, and he'll forgive you. He doesn't want to lose you either."

Hermione thought about that for a moment and then looked at Narcissa with trusting eyes, nodding slowly.

They talked for a long time after that, Narcissa doing her best to impress upon Hermione that she was still young, and that it was still up to the adults in her life to take care of the serious problems. It had been difficult, but necessary, to point out to her that despite their best intentions they hadn't even saved the Philosopher's Stone that night, they'd only put themselves in unnecessary danger.

Yes, Quirrel made it through the obstacles, but the stone had been perfectly safe hidden by that mirror. Hermione had actually seemed relieved by that revelation. Narcissa could only hope that next time, the memory of that would help her remember that she should not take the weight of the world on her shoulders and attempt to solve problems that should be left for others, for adults, to take care of.

Narcissa thought that she kept her composure admirably throughout the afternoon. She got Hermione back into a somewhat normal state of mind, and sent her home. She even managed to make it almost all the way through dinner.

She knew Lucius could tell that all was not well, but he was willing to wait for her to come to him. Draco, on the other hand, was completely oblivious, and therefore didn't know that he was treading on thin ice. One snide remark too many about what she and Hermione had been doing locked away all day and she snapped.

"I'm disappointed in you Draco," she said coldly, "I thought you were a better friend than this. That girl had something utterly traumatic happen to her, and yet the thing she's worried about most is that you won't forgive her. She needed somebody to talk to, and you just turned her away and whinged about losing a silly inner-school competition. Is that the kind of man you want to be, a fair-weather friend?"

Draco's eyes narrowed, and for a moment he looked defiant, but then he looked away, his shoulders slumping. Nobody spoke for the rest of the meal and when it was over Lucius turned to his son.

"Draco, I think it would be best if you retired to your rooms for the night. You are not in trouble, but in the future you will be more respectful of your mother. Remember that it is her prerogative to play host to whomever she pleases, and it is frankly none of your business. You will also learn to watch your tone," he said crisply.

Draco nodded eagerly and left the dining room hastily. Guilt gripped her heart. He was still very young and his feelings were understandably hurt.

She'd meant what she said, and yet she should have been kinder, as she had been to Hermione. She had simply been taking out her anxiety on him.

"I think perhaps we should talk, don't you?" asked Lucius.

She nodded.

"May we go to your study?"

His eyes widened in momentary surprise. She had never before requested the use of his study. The eighteen months or so since Abraxas had become ill and relinquished his Head of House status to Lucius had not been enough time to allow Narcissa to come to view the Lord's study as a place of refuge.

But she knew the wards there were the strongest possible and nobody could enter without Lucius' express permission. If ever a discussion needed to be had in private it was this one. He rounded the table and offered her his arm.

"I was rather harsh with Draco," she confessed apologetically as she took it, "I will speak with him tomorrow."

"He was behaving like a spoilt brat, I was about to reprimand him myself. I was only concerned because it was rather uncharacteristic. I believe I can count on one hand the times you've lost your temper with him."

Narcissa sighed.

"I assume your discussion with the girl is your source of distress?"

"Hermione," she corrected automatically.

"Your discussion with Hermione," he amended, exhaling loudly through his nose.

In the weeks since their dinner with the Grangers, Lucius had come to grudgingly accept that Hermione's place in his wife's life was not fleeting, but he still wasn't happy about it.

"It is, but it is not her fault, I do not think she can even begin to grasp the gravity of what she told me."

They were silent for the rest of the walk. They entered his study and he settled her on the luxurious sofa she'd had specially made for him to lounge on while he read his correspondence. Her reticence to be in the room hadn't kept her from making every effort to turn it into a comfortable place for him to work, and she was especially glad for that tonight.

Lucius went to pour them drinks and she realized that they had an elfin problem to solve before anything else could be accomplished.

"Jema," she called their head elf quietly.

She popped in immediately.

"Yes Mistress?"

"The master and I need to have a private discussion, please see that we are not disturbed."

"Of course Mistress."

"And Jema, please keep an eye on Dobby while we are in here, I fear he can no longer be trusted with the secrets of House Malfoy."

Narcissa felt slightly guilty asking this of Jema. She knew the shame that the rest of the elves felt over Dobby's behavior. They all avoided him since he'd returned from France.

It wasn't until then that Narcissa had realized how truly insane Abraxas had driven his personal elf. She now knew that he could not be counted upon to do his duties and keep their confidence; Abraxas' cruelty had turned him against them all. Still, the request was necessary, somebody had to make sure Dobby didn't hear this conversation, and Jema's loyalty was unquestioned.

"Yes Mistress," Jema answered sadly, then in a very uncharacteristic manner she hesitated.

"What is it Jema?"

"Jema does not mean to overstep, but she is concerned, is the young mistress okay? She was very distraught earlier."

Narcissa softened, touched by Jema's concern over Hermione and ever so grateful that Abraxas had, as tradition dictated, allowed his wife to run the household. Because that meant all of the other elves had been treated with respect, despite the last Lord being such a tyrant, and they remained happy and loyal members of said household.

"Oh! Don't worry about that, Draco and Hermione quarreled and she was very upset about it, but they will get past it, and she will be fine."

Strangely that perked Jema right up. She clasped her hands in front of her and, in a move much more characteristic of juvenile elves, hopped in place happily.

"Oh yes they will! Their bond is strong," she chirped.

"You can already sense a bond between Draco and Hermione?" she asked, rather dumbfounded, she had assumed the elves treatment of Hermione was simply due to the way that she and Draco treated her; elf magic was powerful but limited, used only to sense and serve their family.

Jema looked at Narcissa like she had lost her mind.

"Of course, the family magic has already begun to call for our Young Mistress. Young Master can sense it, Jema thought Mistress knew? They will do great things, House Malfoy will flourish," she said with a large grin, trembling with excitement.

Narcissa swallowed thickly. As far as she knew the children hadn't made any promises to each other that could begin to be construed as binding vows. Was it possible that their natural affinity was enough to evoke Malfoy family magic?

She hadn't known that was possible. But perhaps it accounted for her own bond with the girl, and for Lucius' easy (relatively speaking) acceptance of the situation. Or maybe her own intentions had been the trigger?

Perhaps Hermione was just always meant to be a Malfoy, one way or the other.

"I'm very happy to hear that," she said wearily, she was becoming overwhelmed by the revelations of the day, "but perhaps you and the other elves could just refer to her as Miss Hermione until she and Draco make things more official?"

Jema nodded eagerly.

"Jema understands, the Young Master and Mistress are younglings still, we will not tell them what we know."

"Thank you Jema, that will be all."

She nodded and popped away.

"The elves see it too," she said to Lucius who had his back to her, still pouring their drinks: Firewhiskey for him, and for her a specialty liqueur he'd had developed for her as an anniversary gift the year Draco was born; at the time she'd joked that he meant to ply her with alcohol in hopes she'd forget how much she'd hated him while in labor, it was a memory which suddenly felt like it belonged in a different lifetime.

Lucius snorted.

"And I assume if the elves condone it, we will next be taking in orphaned goblins, lost centaurs, and perhaps baby giants?" he asked sarcastically, without turning from his task.

"Do be serious, Lucius," she said, any lightheartedness gone from her voice.

It was only when he suddenly spun around to face her that she realized that there were tears streaming down her cheeks; he visibly blanched. Ignoring the glasses he'd prepared for them he strode over to her.

She closed her eyes, trying to gain control over herself, and so she only felt when he began to nudge her along the sofa. Then he was surrounding her, she was encapsulated by him. He'd pulled her between his legs, allowing her to rest against his chest as his arms went around her, while his own long body stretched the length of the piece of furniture.

He began to meticulously remove her hairpins, the only sound in the room the 'plink, plink' of those pins hitting a side table as he dropped them. Task complete, he ran his hands through her waist length hair, soothingly, hypnotically, the way he'd learnt to comfort her more than two decades ago when Andromeda had left home and never returned.

She'd been absolutely wrecked then; as she was now. And as they had been then, her sobs were violent but silent. He said nothing, he did not attempt to hush her or offer her empty platitudes. She knew he would do everything in his power to make this better for her, but it was a matter of honor that he would not offer her something that he may not be able to deliver.

Eventually she calmed. She knew it had been a very long time that she'd been crying. She knew that Lucius had charmed his handkerchief dry many times, as she had done for Hermione earlier that day.

She had needed that. She had needed him. She was not sure she could live without him, at least not much of a life. And given what she'd learned today that only made her more terrified, because he was bound to an un-dead monster.

"Are you ready to tell me what is the matter?" he asked, she felt the question as much as she heard it, pressed against his chest as she was.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself, the burden of her knowledge had just begun to really sink in. She wished more than anything that she didn't have to share it with him, but she knew that was not an option.

She sat up far enough to be able to twist slightly and look him in the eye. She owed him that much. He gripped the hand resting on his chest, instinctively knowing she needed his support.

"He isn't dead."

There was a long silence.

"Cissa," he eventually said, "what are you talking about?"

"The Dark Lord," she nearly choked over the phrase, "he isn't gone, far from it, he was in the castle all year with our children."

Lucius' entire body froze, his other hand went still in her hair. She waited patiently, she had not expected this to go well.

"Explain," he said tersely.

And so she did.

Every detail of the last year at Hogwarts that she knew. Everything felt like a painful confession, even if it wasn't really her confession. Her hand traveled up and around his neck, finding his hair in a neatly tied queue. She released the tie on the small black ribbon and began to work her fingers through his hair.

"I am sorry, my darling, but I fear this is all quite a lot for me," she apologized, hating to do it, she would have preferred to be strong for him.

The Dark Lord's continuing existence was a nightmare for them all, but Lucius was the one who had a tracking charm/torture device embedded into his arm. It had become clear during the war that one could not simply ignore a summons. On top of what the Dark Lord may do when he caught you, he could make you wish you'd never even been born while he hunted you.

The idea that the Dark Mark was an honor was laughable. It was a brand and those that carried it no more than slaves; only the deranged devoted never saw that. Of course, amongst that number were her sister and his father, and so the Malfoys' loyalty was supposedly unquestioned.

They were in deep. She was not certain the Light would even accept their defection. If they decided to try that route they would have to prove themselves.

"What do you suggest we do?"

Narcissa froze, it was not uncommon for Lucius to seek her counsel, but for him to so plainly ask for her opinion was unprecedented.

"I do not know," she admitted, "I'm so frightened, I didn't see this coming at all. I knew there were rumors. I knew your father never really gave up hope, but I didn't believe it. There was a body, I didn't think even the Dark Lord could escape death like that.

"Do you want to go to Dumbledore?" he questioned, the man was, after all, the unquestioned leader of the Light.

"No," she answered automatically, but as soon as she said it she knew it was the right choice, "he will do his best for whatever he sees as the greater good, not for our family. And some of his actions this past year, I cannot begin to explain. It may be necessary to seek him out as an ally at some point, but we need a clearer view of the whole board before we even consider that."

"I do love your mind," Lucius observed, almost absentmindedly.

She felt a flush of pleasure at that pronouncement. His approval never got old; everybody thought she was beautiful and well mannered, only Lucius thought she was brilliant and cunning. She didn't mind saving it for him, but she enjoyed the reinforcement of her worth. It was something she had to, grudgingly, admit that she and both of her sisters had in common: they aspired to more than they'd been bred to be.

"We have to tell the children, it would be irresponsible not to. Not everything, of course, but enough. They must be on their guard," she added, instead of commenting.

"You persist in including Miss Granger in our plans?" he questioned snidely.

"Hermione," she corrected once again, "and you do realize that we wouldn't have this information without her? We very well could have been blindsided."

"She makes things more dangerous for us."

Narcissa considered this.

"In a way, and in a way she make things less dangerous. What are you planning to do, Lucius? Go back to the Dark Lord when he inevitably returns to power? Because we both know he won't stop until he does, he is as relentless as he is cruel. And then what, lay low and just hope we all survive? That is a foolish strategy and you know it. It nearly got us killed last time, and my understanding is that he has spent more than a decade as a wraith. When he returns to full power he will be more insane than ever. We will need allies on the Light side to help us take him down, and Hermione can help us accumulate them. She's a muggleborn Gryffindor, and Harry Potter's best friend, if I didn't think she was a gift from the gods before, I certainly do now."

He huffed in irritation but was unable to deny the truth of her words.

"And I know that you don't like it, but it must be clear to you by now that both your son and I love her. We will not discard her."

"Draco only just turned twelve-"

"She's my daughter, Lucius," she interrupted tersely, "go ahead, feel for the bond, I was going to give you some more time to get used to the idea but I guess the fates had other ideas."

She ran her thumb soothingly over the palm of his hand while he reached for their familial bonds. She knew when he sensed the new one as he stiffened and his eyes popped open.

"I suppose that is what the elves are sensing?" he questioned resignedly.

She shrugged against him.

"Truly I don't know, Jema mentioned Draco's bond with Hermione, not mine. Perhaps their connection triggered mine and both called for the family magic. Perhaps it was one or the other. I don't know and it doesn't really matter, she's one of us now. Though, after what Jema said it does seem that they are destined for a romantic rather than a platonic relationship."

Lucius made a small sound of disbelief.

"You will never convince me you are surprised by that, my love, you have been picturing blond curly haired grandchildren since you set eyes on...Hermione."

There was a pause before he said it, but for once he didn't stumble over her name.

"You sound less disappointed than I would have imagined," she confessed.

He let out an aggrieved breath.

"I hope you know by now that I prize nothing more highly than your's and Draco's happiness. I am not blind, you were both ecstatic to have her in our home over Easter, and she, in turn, was impressive. I am also not ignorant to the effect she has had on Draco. He has matured since they have become friends, his letters are more detailed and thoughtful; he's putting more effort into his school work; he was entirely solicitous of her when she visited. I have never seen him so caring of another person, except of course you, my dear. It was not an unwelcome change."

Her eyes fell closed in gratitude, she knew what the world thought of her husband, but he could be the most wonderful man.

"We will explain things to them, then?" she asked.

"Like you said, not everything, I would not burden them unduly, but you are right, they should know there is a danger to avoid."

"Allies?"

"I do not know who we can trust, perhaps Severus, it would certainly be worth talking to him discreetly. I think for now we must sit back and get the lay of the land. I assume I can count on you to investigate in your circles?"

Narcissa nodded; society wives gossiped and they often gave out information they didn't even know they had, especially the ones who actually were trophy wives and whose husbands spoke openly in their presence believing that they were too thick to understand, much less pass on, confidential information. It had never bothered her for herself, but now that she had children on the cusp of adulthood Narcissa realized that this was a sad commentary on the state of their society. Nevertheless, it was one she fully intended to exploit.

"Of course," she answered.

"I will teach them to fight," he said, "their defense lessons have obviously been lacking and Hogwarts will never prepare them if they ever get into a real battle anyway."

All her motherly instincts fought against it, but she knew he had a valid point.

"Me too," she said.

He raised an eyebrow in question.

"You'll teach me to fight too. I'm capable with a wand, but I only got the training Hogwarts provided in dueling, I won't be the weak link," she stated defiantly.

"Alright," he agreed with obvious reluctance.

"And I want to give Dobby to the Grangers."

There were several moments of complete silence, the hand running through her hair went still again.

"What?" he questioned.

"He cannot stay here, Lucius, it's not fair to the others, he shames them. I know you don't want to give him clothes, but it would not be dishonorable to transfer him to another family with a tie to ours. He'll be happier there, this house obviously drives him mad. They will appreciate him, his oddities will mean nothing to muggles and he can help protect them. Hermione's magic is more than strong enough to bond him to her family. He will not suffer being set loose, but he will not be here to cause havoc. It is a brilliant solution, I know you hoped to rein him in but it isn't working. He needs out of a traditional wizarding family; give him the trappings of freedom without breaking the bond," she hurried to explain, this solution had just come to her, but it made sense, she couldn't have the other elves babysitting Dobby all the time, and it had suddenly become vital that the Manor be absolutely secure, which meant an untrustworthy elf had no place here.

"How will you get them to accept him? They aren't used to house elves."

Narcissa vividly recalled Helen bemoaning the cleaning up that had to be done after their last Christmas dinner.

"I think once they see what he can do they will have no objections."

"That is acceptable," he said, and she thought he was secretly relieved to be rid of the burden.

Abraxas had turned Dobby into a liability. He'd turned him against House Malfoy with his cruelty. However, the elf was still bound to the House, and that led to an untenable situation. None of the other elves trusted him with household tasks, but he would go even more mad without a purpose; Lucius had attempted to take him on, but he was too much like his father and had a short fuse, the elf would never respect him.

Narcissa, having largely been raised by elves given the frequent turnover of her governesses and her parents' general indifference, knew how valuable they could be, and how dangerous. She had been looking for a solution for Dobby's situation. Given that she was equally unwilling to let him torture the other elves with his wild beliefs, or to let him suffer the pain and almost inevitable death as a consequence of being dismissed from service; this seemed the perfect solution.

"There is something that I feel now I must tell you, something I'd hoped to spare you," Lucius said abruptly.

He sat up and gently disentangled himself from her. She watched as he made his way over to his desk and then took out his wand before performing a series of complicated charms on the floor beneath it. A trapdoor appeared and he opened it and extracted a thin, black leather bound volume, before shutting it again.

"I know you are aware that upon his death my father left behind many artifacts that the ministry would consider to be Dark, artifacts I must now determine how to deal with."

She nodded.

"None of them concern me as much as this one. Father did not know or explain the curse it carries, but I know it belonged to the Dark Lord and that our House is expected to keep it safe. I had hoped to just get rid of it discreetly, but given what you've just told me that seems imprudent."

She arose from the sofa and approached the desk where the book sat, but as soon as she was within three feet of it she nearly flew across the room to escape it. It felt almost as terrible as being in the presence of the Dark Lord himself, just slightly less oppressive.

"You cannot keep that here," she struggled to catch her breath.

"What?" he questioned.

"I will not have that in the house. It's...evil."

He looked at her searchingly.

"Given Father's belief in its importance, and your reaction, I think it would behoove us to discover what magic, exactly this book carries."

Narcissa did not care, she just wanted this disgusting object out of her home and away from her family.

"I understand, but please Lucius, don't keep it here, you can store it at Gringotts or at one of the other properties if you're worried about the goblins, just not where we live," she begged.

He took a few steps toward her, his features soft with sympathy.

"That is fine Narcissa, I won't have you uncomfortable in our home, I will take it to the cliff house this weekend, it will be easy enough to access there."

"Thank you," she said gratefully, and watched with trepidation as he replaced the slender volume in the compartment under the floor, she did not like him touching it.

He returned to the sofa and took her back into his arms. She gratefully melted into his embrace, bone tired and soul weary.

"I know there is much we still need to discuss, but can we put it off until we've had some rest? I've had just about all I can take for one day."

"Of course, the Dark Lord will be very weak after the ordeal which you described. I must credit your Hermione and the Potter boy for giving us the gift of time to figure this out."

There, at least, was a very small silver lining.

Author's note: I'm sorry, I wanted to get this out sooner, but it's an important chapter both for the plot and for the characters and I wanted to do my best by it. I would so appreciate if you'd tell me what you think of it. Thanks for all the faves, follows, and reviews, they truly make me feel wonderful and inspired! And of course thanks for reading!