THE EASTERN SEABOARD, UNITED STATES
Two years after The Fall

Sam held the baby against her with one hand while she lifted the key from around her neck and knocked on the door to let Beth know that it was her.

Beth was sweeping the shop floor. The concrete never stayed clean, but she tried anyway. Sam shut and locked the door behind her.

"You weren't gone very long," Beth said as she turned. Her brow furrowed. "What's under your sweater?"

Sam rocked on her heels for a moment. "Beth, I…." She swallowed. "I found—" She couldn't say the word baby out loud. So, instead, she lifted her sweater enough so that Beth could see, then covered him back up.

Beth dropped the broom and it fell to the floor with a clang. "You found a baby?"

Sam nodded and went over to the stacked crates where they stored odds and ends, including a few extra blankets for the winter. Beth hurried over and took one off of a pile and held it open so that Sam could set him in it and wrap him up.

"He's so cold." Tears fell down Beth's cheeks and she wiped them away.

The baby was still making short, very soft whines and both girls stared down at him.

"What are we going to do?" Beth's eyes were huge.

"I don't know. I don't know." Sam closed her eyes and then turned to Beth. "Can you hold him for a few minutes? I need to think."

Beth nodded and accepted him into her arms. She held him close and rocked him in her arms a bit as she walked over to the "kitchen area" of the shop. "Hello, there, little guy. Let's see if we can get you to drink some water, okay?"

As Beth continued to coo at him and pour some of their water into a bowl, Sam went to the other side of the room and sat on her cot, lowering her head down against her raised knees.

Sam closed her eyes and tried to push away the fear and to focus.

It wasn't helping. She pressed her fingers against her closed eyes and counted until she was calmer.

They couldn't take care of a baby. She didn't know what to do.

Beth sat down at their table, which, according to Ricky, used to be a welding table. She put her index finger in the bowl and then in the baby's mouth, transferring over a drop of water. He sucked greedily on her finger and promptly burst into tears when she removed it. "Shh, shh, little one." She did the process again and again, until he calmed down and realized there would be more.

"Okay."

Sam's presence at her side startled Beth and she jumped a bit when Sam spoke, which caused the baby to startle and to cry.

Beth dipped her finger again and then left it in the baby's mouth for a few extra moments, to calm him down. She looked up at Sam.

"Will you be okay with him while I go find Ricky? We'll see what we can find. We're going to need some kind of formula. And diapers, I guess. We'll try to get something for now and then worry about finding more later." They hadn't broken into houses in over a year because everything useful was gone, but they hadn't been looking for anything for a baby. Odds were, no one else had either.

"Of course." Beth smiled down at him and smoothed his tiny curls with her free hand. He was still sucking on her finger. "Be careful."


ALLERFORD, SOMERSET, ENGLAND
The following week

Hermione made herself a hot cuppa, put a few pieces of shortbread on a saucer, then sat down at Christie's roll-top desk and sipped the tea as she waited for the laptop to connect.

There was so much information on the forum to sift through, it was hard to for Hermione to tear herself away. She looked at each screen-name with longing. Who were these people? Was she interacting with someone from her past?

She was beginning to get to know a few of the regulars. No personal information was allowed, nothing specific whatsoever. It was a little odd, at first, greeting someone by pseudonym only and having no idea who they really were or where they were from, wondering if she knew them. She wanted to learn every bit about The Fifth Column and about the rebels she could, so she had begun taking notes in an empty spiral-bound notebook Christie had given her. She hoped putting on paper what she learned about each member would help her to discern if she might know them. She had also been jotting down thoughts of how the rebels could one day turn the tide. Her ideas weren't practical or any good, but she wrote everything down anyway.

After an hour, she turned the laptop off and got up.

She washed the cup and saucer and then stretched and perused a small shelf in one of the cabinets filled with old cookbooks. The edges were faded and many of the pages were a bit yellow. She browsed through the index of Betty Crockers and came to a stop, her finger just below 'beef stew...pg. 64.'

They didn't have beef, but there was a fresh-caught rabbit that needed to be used.

Following the instructions in the cookbook, Hermione soon had a stew simmering on the stove and had even tried her hand at homemade rolls. They didn't look like the picture, but they were...well, they were horrible. Maybe with a generous amount of butter? She frowned at the lumpy bread; she could have sworn she followed the instructions. She poked one with a sigh. It was much too hard to eat. She couldn't help thinking rather fondly of Hagrid's rock cakes. A deep breath later, she started laughing. She had a long way to go before she should think about making bread.

She threw them out and hoped the birds had strong stomachs.

An hour later, Christie walked in the front door as Hermione was mopping up the kitchen and larder floors. "Why, looky here! Thanks, lass, tis looking sparkly in here. Ye ready t' take a break?"

Hermione smiled and nodded. "Actually, yes. I wanted to ask you about something."

"Sure, what's that?"

Hermione wrung out the mop and stepped over the wet floor in her socks. "One second, I'll show you." She came back out of her room a moment later with a rolled up newspaper in her hands.

Christie followed her into the living room and she spread it open on an old chest she had found in the larder filled with Mason jars, newspapers, and cardboard. She had brought it into the living room and put it in front of the couch to use as a coffee table.

Hermione bit her lip as she viewed the picture of Mr. Weasley once more.

Christie smoothed the paper with great care and read the article. After a long moment, he said, "I think he's probably dead."

Hermione's head jerked up and her eyes widened. "What do you mean, probably?"

"Welll—"

"There's a chance he isn't?"

"Isn't that what ye were gonna ask me?"

Hermione shook her head and blinked away tears. "I was going to ask if you knew anything about...about him...or his family. What happened to them. The Weasleys."

"Welll now, I wish I did, girlie. Supposedly they're all dead, but I would only take that with a grain of salt. This trash is propaganda tiddle. No one actually reads it. Or believes it. At least, not anyone with any sense. I just keep 'em fer me compost." He winked at her, nodding at the stack of newspapers on top of the bookcase in the corner.

Hermione stared down at Mr. Weasley's dear face, her throat tight.

That evening as they were sitting at the dining table, having just finished dinner, Christie asked, "I wonder, lassie, how'd ye do it? I've been stewing and pondering and plotting til me head's fit t' burst."

"Hmm?" Hermione's fingers stilled as the depth of his question reached her. Her mouth opened a few times, but it took her a minute to get the words past the lump in her throat. "Oh, Christie. I-I can't pretend I haven't been to hell and back. You can't imagine..."

Christie didn't say anything; he just nodded, his eyes kind.

Hermione's hands started shaking and she clasped them between her knees. She rather wondered if talking about it would help. "I thought I was going to die. No—I knew I was." She paused for a few deep breaths. "I was desperate to, well before the last...to be honest." Her eyes welled with tears and she stared down at her empty bowl for several long seconds. When she spoke next, her voice was quiet and Christie had to lean forward to hear. "It's strange. I'd never liked him, you see. I suppose, over the years, I despised and felt sorry for him. By my last year at Hogwarts I...I did wonder about him."

Christie nodded and Hermione was about to open her mouth to begin, when he stood up and insisted on making them both a cup of tea. "Ginger root, tis just what ye need."

A few minutes later, Christie handed her a warm cup and settled in his chair nearby.

Hermione stirred the tea, dissolving the honey settled in the bottom of the cup with a small spoon for several moments before she began. "It may come as a surprise that I owe my life to a Death Eater. We...we knew each other from Hogwarts. I am not sure, exactly, how long I had been held prisoner when I saw him. Harry had been...gone...oh, Merlin...it felt like forever. I longed for the end. To be reunited with—with Harry and Ron and my parents and countless others. It was the only thing I had to hold onto; that eventually, it would all be over and I would be free from the pain and the dark and the..." A soft sob escaped her and she tried to take a sip of the tea, tried to catch her breath.

Several moments passed in silence and then Hermione continued, her eyes fastened on the teacup resting on the tabletop in her clasped hands. "I...the few hours before had been.…" She shuddered. "I was still delirious from the pain. He came in very quietly with a bowl of broth. I'd never...his eyes...he was shocked. I remember he locked the door and tried to help me sit up. He kept going on about how I had to eat." She paused, still overwhelmed by the difference she had seen in him. "I hadn't eaten anything in awhile — I had given up. He held me up and spoon fed me, which at the time didn't really register, but ever since, I can't seem to...to get it out of my head. I still find it hard to believe. He Apparated us outside of the dungeons to an area of countryside in Scotland, not far from a farm. I collapsed after that. I wish I remembered it all better. Part of the time, there was a lot of pain, from spells. He healed me as much as he could, but was running out of time. I remember that he said he had to go but that he would be right back. It was urgent. He settled me under a tree to rest, but...he never came back." Hermione bit her lip and closed her eyes for a long moment. "I never saw Draco Malfoy again."