Hello lovelies.

I truly have nothing else to say other than I am sorry, this chapter is probably worse than the prior two by far, and again, I am sorry. Bring your tissues when you proceed forth. You may or may not need them.

I also posted the rewritten version of chapter one if anyone wants to check that out.

My tumblr: indiebluecrown. tumblr. com

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.

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The world was a blur of warm colours that sharpened into tangible shapes. It was an arduous process, but eventually James could make out his surroundings. Diagon Alley.

There was a soreness to his limbs as he sat up. A stampede of footsteps crossed the path several feet away, boisterous chatter bounced off the buildings. The world was alive, it was vibrant.

The fog clinging to his brain dissipated sluggishly, and he recalled what happened. James sprang to his feet; the invisibility cloak slipped to the ground. Nausea hit him immediately, and he swayed to the side, and he barely caught himself against the solid surface beside him.

None of the wix appeared to notice him. James rubbed at his temple as he pieced things together.

Hermione and Draco are in danger, James thought mentally, panic thick in his veins now. James scooped the Invisibility Cloak up off of the ground. The setting sun painted everything in sharp contrast of heavy blocks of shadow with bright splashes of oranges, reds and pinks.

James was balancing on a risky tightrope as he turned on his heel—the air cracking open—and apparated away. The likelihood of splinching himself was high in his current state, but he made the gamble knowing that wherever they were, Hermione and Draco were most likely running out of time.

The block of ice Mipsy had given James—wrapped in a pale yellow tea towel—was pressed against his temple, and bit into his skin. It was, however, a welcome respite from the pounding in his head.

James had had a minute to ruminate on the morning's events, and he was livid. Hermione and Draco always operated like this, protecting their loved ones even at their own expense. It was reckless, and stupid, but it often worked out in their favour.

The final hues of colour in the sky faded into darkness, a yellowish glow straddling the horizon. James closed his eyes and he could faintly grab onto the bond he shared with his siblings; the strings connecting them together danced in the darkness.

James's bedroom door swung open, and Charlus strode in like a force to be reckoned with. He halted beside where James was hunched, sitting, on the foot of his bed.

"You told Remus and Sirius?" James asked, voice gravelly.

Charlus opened his mouth to speak, when a fiery whirlwind of a witch swept into the room.

"James Potter! Why did I have to hear from Remus that you got attacked in Diagon Alley?" Lily boomed, rushing to his side. James winced at her pitch. Lily practically launched herself onto his bed, and missed tackling him by inches. The bed dipped as she righted herself. Lily fussed at him, examining him from head-to-toe fervently, rocking the bed as she shifted.

"Because I was attacked in Diagon Alley, Evans. I trusted the information would be disseminated accordingly."

"No need for all that sass, Potter. I was worried. Especially with how distraught Remus was, I could barely get a straight answer out of him…he told me about Hermione and Draco," Lily sniffed. In moments the bravado was stolen from her, and her strong exterior crumpled as she carefully wrapped her arms around James's shoulders, one of her hands stroking the side of his head.

James breathed in deeply, his free hand reaching up to caress his girlfriend's cheek. "We don't know where they are, or what's happened to them. Hermione stunned me and hid me under my Invisibility Cloak."

The information decimated what was left of Lily's composure and tears rolled freely down her face. But, then a tiny frown puckered her brow and she traced patterns on his scalp as she asked, "Invisibility…cloak?"

"I was going to tell you…someday. Never seemed to be a good time."

"A good time? James Potter—"

"Okay, we can continue this conversation later," Charlus interrupted in a tone that allowed for no disagreement. He tiredly dragged a hand down the lower portion of his face. "James, is there anything else you can think of? Did anyone look familiar, sound familiar? What did they want?"

James knew a miniscule amount about the requirements of his Father's previous career, much less the skill set he had acquired as an Unspeakable. However, the clinical way Charlus was assessing the situation and the eerie calm he was displaying made James question what other information about his Father he was not privy to.

"Not really," James confessed, instantly feeling useless and unhelpful.

"Then our main objective is to determine what they wanted, because that may lead us to wherever they took Hermione and Draco."

"Seems like they wanted us alive," James deduced. "They took Hermione and Draco, and it didn't seem like they were firing spells to kill, but rather incapacitate earlier."

"That is a good point, james. Hopefully they are still…" Charlus appeared unable to finish his sentence, and James could taste his heart beating in his mouth.

The trio talked in circles for what felt like an eternity but truly it was just long enough for the sun to set. Remus joined them for a time, but it was mainly to inform them that he'd stunned Sirius and tucked him in for the night as he'd done some 'interior decorating'. Sirius had tossed his room upside down, and broken most of his furniture. Shortly thereafter Remus retreated to the kitchen in search of chocolate; he was distressed and he hoped it would calm his fried nerves. Mipsy disappeared when none of them were paying attention.

A sharp pop snapped into the room just as the trio contemplated involving Dumbledore. An unfamiliar House Elf (accompanied by Mipsy) with rigid posture, wearing a gunny sack that had been dyed black (it had armholes, and his knobby knees and thin legs were visible) stood before them. Stiff upper lip, droopy ears, and eyes that were taller than they were wide. The Elf cleared its throat before addressing them, "Mister Nott shall surely be contacting you soon with some kind of ambush or trap in place, but my Mistress has sent me to tell you that your children are being held in the Dungeons of Malfoy Manor."

"What? Who is your Mistress?" Charlus asked.

"Mistress Malfoy, formerly of the house Black."

"That can't be right. Abraxas would have told me if my children were being held in his house, he also wouldn't have allowed it."

"Well," the House Elf started in a droll voice, seemingly bored of their presence and comments, "I wouldn't see how that would be possible, Sir. Abraxas Malfoy has been rather indisposed." He tapped his large foot impatiently.

"Sorry?"

"No need to apologise, Sir. Dragon Pox is quite nasty. They've had the best Healers they could buy in the Manor for the past two days. They suspect he will pass tonight."

"Dragon Pox?" Charlus said, hand over his mouth as he shakily walked over to James's bed and sat on his other side. James rubbed his Father's back. The ice in his tea towel was mainly melted and all that remained was icy water,, so he floated it towards his desk; Mipsy scowled, intercepted it, and vanished the tea towel to what he assumed was the kitchen.

"Yes, Sir. The Dark Lord is angered by the turn of events, so he instructed Mister Nott to garner information by any means necessary. They laid in wait for any suspected order members in Diagon Alley this morning."

"Wrong place, wrong time," Charlus muttered softly.

"Why are you telling us all this?" James queried.

"My Mistress told me to answer any of your questions," the House Elf said curtly. "The real issue here is that both of your children are in critical condition, and I cannot apparate you within the Manor's walls as it will implicate my Mistress. She is already risking far too much by sending me here at all."

"Fizz is also a Black Elf, so he is loyal to Mistress Narcissa not the Malfoys or any of the others," Mipsy supplied.

"Thank you, Fizz. Your information has been invaluable."

"Once you cross the wards, an alarm will go off, and surely alert them of your presence. They have adjusted the wards in recent months as there are so many of the Dark Lord's followers going back and forth from the Manor. Which, I suppose, is lucky for you, otherwise you would have difficulty pulling him through the blood wards." The last part he addressed to Mipsy.

"How did you get through ours, Fizz?" Charlus asked. He had adjusted the wards when they first adopted Hermione and Draco, weaving their blood and magical signatures into them. James felt he knew where his Father was going with this line of questioning.

Fizz frowned, holding up one of his hands—which had been clasped behind his back—and a smear of dark rust stood out on his fingers. "Mistress instructed me to use one of the twins' blood; she is a rather cunning witch."

Fizz cleared his throat gruffly, twice, and said, "time is of the essence, we haven't much time. You must hurry." Fizz didn't mince pleasantries or farewells, he snapped his fingers and he vanished in thin air, a popping sensation in their ears the only trace of his presence.

"Fizz is right," Charlus said, combing his fingers backwards through his hair.

"Okay, let's go—" James began to stand, Charlus's hand shot out and grabbed hold of James's forearm, halting him in his tracks.

"No. You are staying here," Charlus said, in a similar tone to the one he used earlier, it warned off discussion. James was not dissuaded.

"I am coming with you. They are my siblings."

"They are MY children. I will not put all three of you in danger or at risk when it is not needed. No. You are staying here and there shall not be any further discussion on the matter." James was rendered speechless, he could count on one hand the number of times Charlus had raised his voice at him. Sure, growing up he'd used a firm, strict tone, but yelling? Raising his voice? It was simply not something Charlus Potter did.

A rush of remorse crossed his Father's features, and Charlus spoke much quieter this time, "call Alfred. From what Fizz said, we will surely need his services."

Alfred Pennyweather was a family friend, and Charlus had known him since they were both adolescents still figuring out the world and their place in it; although Alfred always seemed to know where he belonged and what his purpose was. He was a generous, but severe man with little tolerance for nonsense or gaiety. In his youth, he was oft found perusing thick tomes, and that tradition had carried on till this day.

Alfred was also one of the best Healers in Wizarding Britain, and he had his own practice so he worked independently of St. Mungo's (which these days the Hospital could not be trusted, as Voldemort had certainly infiltrated it if he'd gotten his claws into the Ministry). Alfred was perfect for the job.

"Dad," James tried again.

"James. This is not up for discussion. Contact Alfred, let him know it is urgent. We will be back before you know it." Charlus told his son, twisting to grasp James's face, and he tilted it downwards so he could press a chaste kiss to his son's forehead. James drew in a shaky breath.

"Come on, Mipsy. Let's go." Charlus spoke gently, pulling back to look into James's eyes.

"Of course, Master. Am I allowed to pay them back in kind whilst we are there?" Mipsy asked as she smoothed down the front of her baby blue apron.

"You can burn the bloody place down if you wish it my dear," Charlus replied, giving her permission to do as she pleased—which she was going to do anyway, but express permission was always nice. Mipsy grinned brightly. "No one messes with Mipsy's pups."

"Please be careful," James pleased, finally giving in.

"Always, son."

Charlus kissed James's forehead once more, and a brief heartfelt touch to his cheek later Charlus rose, and strolled over to Mispy.

Mipsy adjusted her silk bonnet, a stoic expression smeared across her features. Charlus reached down to grip her thin, bony hand.

"I love you, son," Charlus said.

"I love you too."

Charlus turned to meet Lily's gaze. "Please make sure he doesn't do anything foolish."

"Mister Pot—" a bemused look from Charlus cut her off, "—Charlus, don't worry. I promise he's not going anywhere, I'll make sure of it."

"Wait, what about the loo? That is an exception right?" James asked with a serious expression, but the amusement in his voice belied the jest in his question.

"The loo is allowed, but no snacks," Charlus expressed in a similar manner to his son. James sulked, pushing his bottom lip out.

Charlus solemnly stared at them, and with a curt nod said, "see you soon."

Mipsy closed her eyes, the air pressure around the pair increased, a whistling, suctioning sound rippled across James's eardrums and with a crisp crack, they were gone.

Darkness greeted Hermione like an old friend. She blinked a few times, but it was futile, it was too dim to see anything. Her vision focused, and there was a small light source, a few feet away, but she couldn't make anything out properly. Hermione shifted her eyes, smacking her lips together—her tongue was heavy and as rough as sandpaper.

Hermione was greeted by their gracious host— the broken creature, her fair hair glowing in their dingy, sordid surroundings. Narcissa's wand was on the ground beside where she was crouched, the tip glowing softly (just enough to see her immediate environs).

Hermione tried to examine the room they were in: it wasn't much to look at, it was small, dark and the walls and floors were made of dirt. Not to mention it smelt of something damp that had rotted away. Hermione dug her fingers into the earth around her, trying to breathe evenly, and the enchantments braided into the earth met her eagerly, warning her of the repercussions they held. There were no noticeable exits.

Hermione's head fell to the side, the dirt cold and stiff against her cheek, and she realised that Draco's head was in Narcissa's lap. She blinked slowly, observing Narcissa combing the hair off of Draco's forehead.

The pain across Hermione's body returned all at once, or maybe she became aware of it in that moment. She rolled her head back towards the ceiling staring at it until static crackled across her vision. Some dirt particles clung to her cheek.

Hermione tried her voice, and found that even though it was weak, it was there, "it isn't your fault."

"I don't…I didn't know—I don't agree with the torture of children," Narcissa said simply, sniffling.

Hermione laced her hands together on her abdomen, wincing at the searing ache in her leg. "We are hardly children, Cissas," Hermione said wryly, her face unnaturally stiff as she tried to smile. It didn't hurt as much as she expected. She commented on that fact aloud.

"I placed a small healing charm to your wounds, nothing too extravagant, just enough so you aren't in agony anymore, and so that the swelling on your face went down." Narcissa shot a stern gaze Hermione's way, but the witch was oblivious as she was staring elsewhere.

"Besides you may not be children, but—" Narcissa couldn't seem to find the words. Hermione glanced at the distraught witch. Narcissa gently shifted Draco from her lap so that he was lying flat on the ground. He was too still for Hermione's liking, but his chest was rising and falling evenly, and that comforted her some.

"I sent one of my House Elves to Potter Manor to get help, so it is only a matter of time before someone comes to get you." Narcissa stood, her body trembling—a fact that appeared to irritate the witch—and she brushed the dirt from her skirts. "I know you cannot see me properly, but I am truly sorry for what I did." Hermione could see her clear as day, tears streaming down her face. Narcissa bent at the middle, and retrieved her wand.

"If it wasn't you, it would have been another. Someone who truly enjoyed what they were doing," Hermione said breathily, her energy was fading.

Narcissa pointed her wand at her own face—illuminating it for a few moments—and with a few muttered incantations under her breath, the redness around her eyes disappeared and her tears dried, leaving no trace.

"I must go, I've been here far too long as it is," Narcissa said, heading towards the farthest dirt wall. A rectangular section a few inches wider and taller than Narcissa vibrated with light, and with a groan, it pushed outwards; bleak light peeked into the room from the torches lining the stone corridor outside.

"Narcissa—"

The woman halted in the opening.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me, I don't deserve it," Narcissa replied coldly. She stepped out past the block of earth and stone, and strode to her right without a backwards glance, her heels clicking across the floor. The section settled back in place, sealing them away in their dark tomb.

"It's okay, Cissa…" Hermione said as she crawled over to Draco, dragging herself across the earth on her good leg. She winced from the effort, and exhausted she collapsed beside Draco. "Hello, love," Hermione murmured sadly as she traced Draco's jaw; the texture of the dried blood that caked his skin was rough but grainy to the touch.

Hermione sought out Draco's hand and after a few moments she found it. She held fast. "We're going to be okay, Draco. We are. You'll see."

Hermione didn't know how long she had been unconscious, but she woke up to yelling, loud crashes, harsh bangs and then the wall exploded. Hermione used what replenished magic she had left at her disposal to keep the debris from hitting her or Draco. She was depleted.

"Mistress! We have to go!" Hermione heard Mipsy say ardently. Mipsy's thin fingers were suddenly on her face, and a bout of nausea hit Hermione as she mustered up the energy to stand. She put most of her weight on her good leg; her injured leg was wailing in protest.

Mipsy was shaking Draco awake, and he roused, groggy and mumbled something incoherent as the House Elf used her magic to help him stand. Hermione and Draco leant on each other.

Dust clouds swirled around the entrance, and they flashed multiple colours in a matter of seconds. The trio sluggishly made their way to the corridor through the massive hole in the wall; avoiding the bits of rubble in their way.

Hermione saw her Father, skilfully fighting off the Death Eaters at the end of the long, narrow corridor, they were crowded together on the stairs. Charlus's spells were impeding their progression forward.

"We need to go, Master! Now!" Mipsy yelled, her brow furrowed with effort.

There are moments you remember with such clarity: the smells, the sounds, and every small movement. The banging and cacophony of sounds blended together, yet she could tell each individual source apart. It smelt of burnt rubber and earth. And with a crisp flick of his wrist and an iron determination, Theodus Nott hurled an axe directly at her. She couldn't hear anything anymore, the world went silent.

Hermione met his Father's gaze, the seconds stretched thinly, and he flung himself in front of her, covering her with his body. She felt the impact radiate through her bones as it embedded itself in her Father's chest. Theodus grinned cruelly.

They all crumpled to the floor, and Hermione desperately clung to her Father as he fell back into her arms. Mipsy screamed as she grabbed hold of her Master and Draco, apparating them away with a vicious crack that split open the walls around them.

Sound flooded her ears again. James's voice, happy then drowned in horror and fear. Light crashed onto her irises, and Hermione rocked her Father in her arms, screaming as blood gushed out of the nasty wound.

A stranger, one she had never seen before knelt by Charlus's side, eyes wide as his hands hovered over the wound.

Charlus choked out, "see…back before you know it." He coughed violently, it was wet and it rumbled in Hermione's ears. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth.

The stranger closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, green light pouring from his hands, he grimaced, and with a shuddering sigh he sat back on his haunches. He unbuttoned the clasp around his throat of his pristine black robes. "I am sorry."

"What do you mean you're sorry! DO SOMETHING!" James shrieked, his voice like nails on a blackboard.

"There's dark magic laced through the axe. And there's too much damage—"

James pushed the wizard aside, tears bubbling out of him as he grabbed a hold of Charlus's hand. Draco was on the other side, shock punctuated across his features. Draco edged forward on Charlus's other side, hand just beside the axe, eyes flicking between it and his Father's face as the life drained out of him and poured onto the hardwoods.

Hermione whimpered, she was propping their Father up, and she caressed his face. She couldn't breathe.

Hermione dug deep inside of herself, straight into her magical core and drew magic, pumping it into her Father, green light emitting from her fingertips. James and Draco seemed to catch on as they did the same, and Charlus gasped. His breathing evened out.

"You've only bought yourselves time…" The man said somberly, he had stood up, and was gravely watching the events unfold.

Hermione knew that, she did. She could see the bond linking her to her Father flickering in and out of existence, but she didn't care. Any more time they were afforded was precious. She focused on his face below her, averting her eyes from his wound.

"You are all so brilliant, so beautiful and I could not have asked for better children," Charlus said, a tear rolling out of his eye. He chuckled lightly, but it morphed into a harsh coughing fit.

"Daddy," Hermione cried.

Charlus weakly reached up, his hand brushing her cheek before it fell once more. Draco immediately took hold of it, his grey eyes burning silver.

Mipsy was at Charlus's feet, her bonnet in her hands, sobbing silently into it.

"I love you. I love you so much, and you…you need to take care of each other."

"We need you, Dad," James said, his voice cracking. Lily, and Remus entered the room then, the door creaking open with them. There was a mixture of grief, agony and horror amongst them. They fell against one another. Lily's hands were covering her mouth.

Charlus smiled weakly at James's admission, squeezing his son's hand. "You will survive this, you are all so strong…"

Charlus's voice faded, it was getting quieter. Charlus's body was limp in his children's grip, pure will was binding him to this world now. "I love you. Never forget that."

"Dad, Daddy, please," Draco begged, able to speak for the first time. "I love you, please, please don't leave us."

"Fight the war…but never forget…to live."

And then, tears spilling out of his hazel eyes, he dies. A weak smile on his face.