A/N: I haven't abandoned this fic! Promise!

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Hermione glared mutinously at the grey and black owl tapping on her window, and the still dark skies behind it that indicated just how early it was. She wrestled herself free from blankets that were twisted around her ankles and lowered the knife she held at an angle in her left hand; she was relatively convinced that her own owl wasn't here to murder her in the night.

"There, there, Ophelia," she shushed her bird quietly. "You know I won't hurt you." Hermione set her knife down on a desk lining the wall as she unlatched the window to allow the soft creature entry.

Ophelia hopped onto her desk and shot Hermione a sideways look before shoving her leg toward the girl, indicating she was to remove the scroll from her leg.

"Thank you," Hermione told her kindly and dug around in a drawer for a treat to give her. "I appreciate you coming this late, it just scares me sometimes."

The owl met her gaze and hooted once softly with what was probably understanding, then bent to grab the treat from the girl's fingers.

Hermione took the opportunity to unroll the parchment and read the letter.

M,

I believe I am prepared for the journey! If possible, I would prefer departing from the Apparition Station at ten o'clock on Wednesday morning. If all goes well, I imagine I'll be able to return on Thursday. Though, the closer we get to Christmas, the higher the risk I'll come across mistletoe.

As I'm sure you know, Nargles are bound to be in high spirits this year; what with the heavily oppressive energies hanging in the air having dissipated with Voldemort's fall. This would normally thrill me, but as a very distant relative to them, Nargles tend to target me at a much more frequent rate.

If I run into trouble, shall I send an owl? Or will arrangements be made in advance for the potential of a slightly longer stay?

Thank you always, sweet Mia,

L.

Hermione couldn't keep herself from smiling at her friend's observations of the unseen. It had taken Hermione a long time to come to a place where she believed the girl, but if anyone could see Nargles, it would be Luna.

L,

I'm arranging for your transport immediately. I will also ensure that the driver has your itinerary, cross referenced with your lists for ease of shopping, along with your hotel reservation.

Struck with an idea, she reached for her bedside table and rifled through it until her hands landed on a carved wood box. Wasting no time, Hermione freed it from behind a nearly endless supply of protection pouches, flipped the lid up and reached for an old bracelet. She performed a quick gemino charm, duplicating it and forming a magical link between the two.

Resting against the window ledge, Hermione allowed the light of the nearly full moon to wash over her and thoughts of Luna to fill her mind until her magic broke free from her flesh in sparks. Her hands passed over the strips of braided leather, transforming them into the silvered twisting limbs of some long forgotten faerie forest. Delicate blossoms and droplets of dew formed along thinner branches that wrapped in and out of her creation.

With her index finger, Hermione grazed what would be the top of the bracelet, drawing upon the magic imbued in the metal, and withdrew, joining her finger to her thumb as she pulled away. An opalescent moon was set inside the apex of a cluster of thorny branches that reached to protect it, creating a nest of sorts.

She opened her eyes and examined her handiwork, and picking up her own bracelet, pressed her thumb to the moon and felt the sun charm on her bracelet grow cold to the touch. Allowing the signal to fade, Hermione pressed on the sun to verify the reverse held true: the moon on Luna's grew warm.

With a smile of satisfaction, Hermione grabbed a purse to help Luna blend in. She tossed it into a drawstring bag, far too small to hold it, but managed, thanks to an undetectable extension charm. She sat back down at her desk and continued writing back.

I have included a bracelet for you: it's linked to one of my own and pressing the moon on top will signal me.

I don't imagine you will run into any trouble, but if for any reason you become concerned- think you're being followed, feel you're in danger, become lost- alert me immediately, and I will apparate to you.

Inside the pouch is a black purse that will help you blend in around Muggle London. I recommend wearing simple trousers, a jumper, and a coat. The pouch is to store your purchases once you've returned to the car- do not put things into the pouch while you're around Muggles!

M.

Hermione rolled the parchment and placed it into the pouch before casting protection charms and tamper-activated hexes, as per usual, to keep the package safe.

She approached Ophelia and stroked the owl's head gently before passing her another treat. "Thank you, lovey," Hermione whispered into the owl's feathers. "Do you have any idea how much I appreciate you not being afraid of me?"

The owl finished her treat and pecked lovingly at the girl's hand as if to say don't be silly. I'm not like those owls. Ophelia took off for the witch's friend, and Hermione closed her window.

She reached out mentally for the house elves and a tray appeared less than two minutes later. There was a small plate containing a cooked egg on a slice of toast, and a mug of chamomile tea. Eternally grateful, Hermione dug in, needing to nourish her physical body after such heavy spellwork. She finished the snack quickly and downed her tea before crawling back into bed, grateful for whatever rest she could before her late morning tea with McGonagall.

Minerva studied the girl and waved a hand at the tray on the tea table between them. She produced an array of biscuits, croissants, coffee, and tea, along with milk and sugar, clearly hoping the girl might indulge.

Hermione reached for a teacup and saucer to set upon the narrow table at her side. She settled herself into a plush, crimson armchair that sat in a small alcove inside the Headmistress' office.

"What did you wish to discuss, Headmistress?"

Minerva took a sip of her tea before speaking. "I'll get right to it, Miss Granger: If possible, I'd like your help creating an initiative for inter-house unity."

"I don't understand," Hermione answered her with a frown. "Things have been quite civil this year."

"Civil, yes," Minerva sighed crisply and set her porcelain cup aside, the branches and flowers decorating the top swishing with the sudden motion. "Dare I hope to aspire to more than mere civility?"

A startled laugh burst forth from Hermione's lips at the Headmistress' serious tone. "I'm so sorry-" she choked out. "I don't mean to be rude, I just-"

"It's a lot to ask of you, I know," Minerva told her sternly, though not unkindly as the girl caught her breath. "Of anyone."

Hermione straightened herself out and dabbed stray tears from her eyes on the sleeves of her jumper.

Ah. Just some mild hysteria breaking through the mask of sanity I have to put on every day. Nothing to see here, Headmistress.

"I think that I would like to be part of this project, but I need to know the extent of my involvement before giving you an answer."

"I can understand that," the Headmistress answered her kindly. "I do not wish to keep you from your studies- you are however, one of the few people in this castle that…" she trailed off.

"Cares?" the younger witch asked tartly, cup halfway to her pursed lips. "Understands? Desires change?"

"Hardly," Minerva answered her with a frown. "You're one of the few people I trust interacting with the other students while trying to pull everything together."

Hermione took another sip of her tea, waiting for the woman to divulge more information.

"If the school went about this in a formal way— if we invited the Ministry in— we would be setting up a situation in which students wouldn't feel comfortable talking about their ideas and feelings."

"You don't want anyone to feel like they're on the spot or risking being outed, politically, is what you're saying?"

"Correct," Minerva responded crisply. "As much as things have improved, there's still a long road ahead of us, and I fear that the children with the most to lose now, are those in Slytherin house.

"In your first year," Minerva continued, "when Gryffindor won the House Cup, Albus said something about Neville while he awarded the final points. Do you remember what it was?"

Hermione bit her lip and fidgeted in her seat, already knowing where she was headed. "It takes a great deal of courage to stand up to your enemies, but even more to stand up to your friends."

"Correct again, Miss Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor."

Hermione rolled her eyes, points being the least important thing in her life right now. "From what I understand, some are still facing pressure from their family."

"Quite so."

"And you think that, even though I'm muggleborn, I'll have a shot at their being candid with me?"

"I do," the Headmistress responded with a sense of finality.

"Well," Hermione said after a few moments of silence. "I can offer you a suggestion at this very moment."

"What might that be, Miss Granger?"

"Be rid of the tables dividing us in the Great Hall; there are so few of us that it's just silly at this point."

"I— that would be—"

"Unprecedented, yes. But I don't see how you can preach unity and good will if we aren't encouraged to mingle outside of our Houses."

"I will take that into consideration," Minerva answered thoughtfully.

I certainly hope so.

Hermione parsed through the library, running her fingers along the spines of tomes both new and old, and selected those that would interest her. She pulled book after book, and set them down in the charmed cart that followed her silently through the aisles.

It didn't quite feel the same as it did before; the library, the books, the smell, had been her calm, her quiet, her refuge. But now, it was only as calm as she could be, as quiet as her mind could be, and didn't offer much in the way of refuge.

Sure, she was able to count on the library and information to be there for her, but there was some kind of shift in the air that made it not the same.

It wasn't just that the destruction wreaked upon the castle had changed it irrevocably— it was the sound of a tiny whisper inside of her that reminded Hermione the castle wasn't her home anymore: nowhere is.

She rounded the corner of a bookshelf near the study rooms and considering there were another ten minutes until her meeting with Astoria, Hermione was surprised to hear two voices coming from #9.

Instinctively, she ducked behind a towering bookcase and nestled into a far corner to listen. Granted, backing herself into a corner didn't exactly feel safe, it was the perfect place to listen in on anyone stupid enough to not cast a muffliato.

So, I'm spying again. Old habits die hard, I suppose.

The deep timbre of a man's voice could be heard through the wood of the door. It sounded familiar in a way, but Hermione couldn't quite place it and shifted her attention to the words being spoken, instead.

"...can't tell her Tori. She won't like it and you can't risk losing her..."

Astoria said something Hermione couldn't make out but was cut off by her companion.

"...just trust me, okay? Please? You need her help as much as you do mine."

When Astoria didn't answer, the voice continued. "She'll be here soon; please just update me later."

Without another word, the door opened and with in a flurry of movement, an all too familiar silvery-blonde head of hair vanished between the aisles.

Hermione couldn't help it; her body reacted automatically, pulse sky-rocketing with adrenaline that compelled her to either tackle him and demand to know what was happening, or disapparate from the castle— which was impossible. A third option, and one that surprised her, was to simply stand there and do nothing.

Ah. Fight. Flight. I suppose I have now met Freeze.

It wasn't until Astoria poked her head out of the door to scan the room some minutes later that Hermione realized she needed to move.

She freed herself from the clutches of trauma, or, at least shifted them aside for now, and walked wordlessly to the room, unable to meet the girl's smile of welcome. She waited for Astoria to take a seat and put up her usual charms, then took her own.

Hermione ran her hands along the wood grain of the table, each swirling line that brushed against her palms helped to tether her to the present moment. And kept her from thinking of the room.

More observant than Hermione might have given her credit for, Astoria waited for the moment to pass and for her movements to cease, before speaking— for which Hermione was grateful.

"Mia," she whispered gently. "Do you need anything from me?"

"I…" Hermione wasn't exactly sure what the girl could do.

Explain yourself? I mean, I guess it isn't too unclear, is it? Draco is probably helping her, too, but doesn't know the muggle side of things. That makes sense. Does it have to change anything? Has it? Would an explanation even help? Would it make things worse?

Unfortunately, hher unrelenting need to know absolutely everything won out and Hermione opened her mouth to speak once more. "I saw him. Explanation, please?"

Astoria's dainty lips formed a small 'o' of surprise, though, she didn't appear to be upset to be called out.

She doesn't wish to hide anything, which is some relief, I suppose.

"Well, it's rather embarrassing," Astoria allowed then repositioned herself in her seat, straightening her back and squaring her shoulders; a reflex of her upbringing. "War Reparations almost cleaned us out," she continued primly.

Hermione frowned, and afraid of offending the girl, Astoria continued. "I mean, we certainly owed them— my father was an absolutely awful man, and our fortune obviously helped to support a despicable faction before reparations. I told you, not to earn sympathy, but to be upfront about my situation."

"My role is to help you sort out life on the Muggle side, and Draco is…?"

"He's my benefactor, I suppose," Astoria answered ruefully. "I understand there's history there, and if you would rather I leave him out of it, I know Theo would be willing to help me— I just prefer keeping the number of people that know of my pregnancy to a minimum, and—"

Hermione held a hand up to stop the girl's rant, allowing her to take a breath of much needed oxygen. "I understand."

"You do?" Astoria asked, surprise overtaking her clear anxiety.

"We can't risk more people finding out— between Draco, Luna, and myself, we already have a decently sized circle. Is there anyone else?"

"No," the girl confirmed quickly. "I'd like to tell Neville over the holidays but don't know if that's entirely wise."

Hermione quirked one dark eyebrow in response.

"I mean, obviously I trust him, but again, he isn't great with Occlumency."

"And you don't trust others," Hermione responded in an understanding tone. "I know I asked before, but I must ask you again: do you think there's a real possibility that you're in immediate danger?"

Astoria brought her hands together, her fingers twisting this way and that, her nerves jangled once more. "I don't know if immediate danger is the right phrase, but I do know that any child Neville and I share would be at risk."

"How so?" Hermione asked, needing to get to the bottom of the situation.

Astoria's eyelids fluttered shut with a sigh. when she answered, her voice cracked. "Our child could be used to punish me."

"Is that likely to happen?"

Astoria's sparkling blue eyes snapped open to reveal a glare so scathing that Hermione could only imagine it ever being achieved by none other than Medusa, herself. "I wouldn't have asked you for your help, otherwise."

Hermione's brain spun through the possible factors that would lead to the witch fearing this and viewing it as a likelihood, and could only form one conclusion: "Someone has been punished already?"

Astoria didn't answer, and chose to simply look away, either unwilling or unable to speak about whatever atrocities she had borne witness to.

Hermione leaned her elbows onto the table in front of her and rested her head in her raised hands. Close to the wood, she caught a whiff of something cool, like pine trees and earthy, like moss and grasses fighting to break through snow. The mental imagery reminded her to calm down, and rubbing rough circles into her temples, the witch fought against the surge of adrenaline that came with knowing someone's life was at risk. Or in this case, three.

Adrenaline is meant to be useful, Hermione knew, but it was less so in a body that had been so oversaturated with it that normal emotions fell through the cracks because they were not large enough to register. Her body was preparing her for the future, the danger, but pulling her farther and farther away from any chance at reaching normalcy.

Combined with her previous reaction not even a half hour ago, Hermione's body was caught somewhere between rigidity and an ache that reminded of her very much of working out.

But if I'm feeling this way, surely Astoria is too…and the baby?

She worked to right her posture quickly and changed her demeanor from one of frustration to one of understanding and acceptance- or at least as close as Hermione was capable. She summoned a tray of tea and snacks a moment later, and produced parchment and quills from her bag, along with lists of details to go over with the pregnant woman.

Somehow, someway, they would figure this out.

Draco stopped dead in his tracks: "Where is our table?"

Theo ignored his friend's distress and forged onward, unwilling to let his calm and collected mask slip for even an instant.

With a roll of his eyes, Draco fell into step with Blaise instead and ended up seated somewhere near to the middle of the Great Hall— though, it would be difficult to determine such without the usual tables for reference.

The space where four exceedingly long tables had once stood, was now littered with tables that each seated no more than ten people, and some, even less. They were also arranged in a pattern that defied all logic and flow.

The Headmistress stood and walked to the podium while Astoria took a seat next to Pansy at an otherwise empty table adjacent to his own. To Draco's surprise, it was Pansy who waved Hermione Granger over.

He raised an eyebrow at the exchange, but his thoughts were immediately interrupted by Headmistress McGonagall.

"Good morning, students," she addressed the school in a crisp voice. "As you can plainly see, the Great Hall has been…greatly modified. For decades, we have used the houses to represent our values, designate sleeping quarters, assign classes, organize sports, and even dictate where students sit for meals."

Oh, no.

Draco's stomach sank down, down, down, never hitting the floor, never stopping; a pit of endless anxiety.

"It had been thought that doing so would instill unity, allow for team building, create a family of sorts, for which you strive to make proud: this was a bit of a mistake."

Oh, no, no, no.

The gasps that met her statement echoed through the hall, but she redirected before the surprise gave way to whispering.

"Let me be clear; the mistake wasn't in creating the houses; enforcing such strict separation of the student body, however, has only served to divide. It's all fine and well to have pride for your house team, to have separate common rooms and even classes, but as far as mealtimes go, there is absolutely no reason that we can't learn to share space and build new friendships."

Well, fuck me.

Hermione scowled through a mouthful of toast topped with orange marmalade, lest Malfoy get any ideas about joining her table with Astoria and Pansy. She was treated to the sight of Malfoy withering under her gaze, and with the satisfaction of victory, she turned back to her breakfast and tuned back into the discussion.

"We need to be doing something for fun," Pansy lamented. "I mean, this is school, obviously," she directed at Hermione, knowing full well how the girl felt about learning. "I just think that if 'inter-house unity' is what we're going for, why not encourage social activities outside of classes and trips to Hogsmeade."

"That isn't a bad idea," Hermione allowed with a small smile. "We haven't gotten around to reinstating many after the pink toad made her exit, but in muggle schools there are all sorts of clubs and the like that students can sign up for to participate in." She watched the girl's face for any emotion at the mention of the muggle world, and was pleased her expression had only changed to a smile at the thought.

"What sorts?" Pansy asked, her deep brown eyes glittering with excitement.

"Well, there's chess," Hermione suggested with a frown— it never had been her forte, after all, and of course it reminded her of them. "Which we have clubs for, but also foreign languages, pottery, painting, poetry, books, film—"

"Films!" Astoria squealed.

"Thank the Gods," Pansy exploded simultaneously. "Everything else sounded absolutely horrid."

"Films, as in muggle films," Hermione reminded them.

"Yes," Astoria answered seriously.

"You don't understand, do you?" Pansy asked. She didn't sound condescending, rather, that she knew they were approaching this topic from two different sides of thought. "Muggle anything is so deliciously taboo for us. You'll get plenty of Slytherin attendees, and that's kind of the point, isn't it?"

Hermione felt herself blush and spoke quickly, "Actually, to point is to get students from all of the houses to attend."

"Yes, but we're the problem house," Pansy pointed out. "Don't worry, we know."

Hermione wasn't quite sure what the make of the girl's one-eighty in personality, but was pleased to hear that gatherings wouldn't be void of the house with the most strained history with muggleborns.

"I'll see about getting a few films brought in then," Hermione answered with a smile. "But I'll have to find some kind of way to play them…hmm."

*Thank you for reading!

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