Erstwhile on TUB:
"I'm sick of being second thought for everyone," Janelle said, sighing and turning away. "First my husband and now my daughter. Some great use I am."
"What am I supposed to say to that, Draco?" he asked, words muffled by the hands which covered his face. "How am I supposed to make everything better? Make her happy?" Draco gave a slight chuckle and handed Apria to her father.
"I am the wrong man to ask about women, Longbottom," he said, sighing and running the back of his index finger over Apria's tiny foot. "The wrong man."
-
Chapter Sixteen: All is Fair in Love and War
"Harry? Baby, are you all right?" Hermione asked, glancing to his reflection in the mirror as she stared at her own, tying her hair into a knot atop her head.
"Yeah," he said offhandedly, as if he hadn't really heard the question. Hermione turned around, dropping her hair and placing her full attention on Harry.
"You're lying. What are you thinking about?" she asked, sitting beside him on the bed and crawling into his lap. Harry broke from his stupor and shook his head.
"I was just thinking- shouldn't I see a doctor?"
"Why?" she said, sounding suddenly worried. "Are you feeling ill? You know, a lot of things can be cured right at home. You should really stay in bed anyway, Harry- you're still recuperating, as much as you hate to admit it."
"No- no, I'm fine. That's it exactly. I'm perfectly fine- I may not remember much, but I haven't felt this good in... well, I don't rightly know. It seems like a long time. Shouldn't I be getting a check up or something? Wouldn't the medics want to hear about my recovery?" Hermione sighed.
"Honestly, Harry- the medics don't care about much more than money. I owled them months ago and they told me to get on with it and owl back if there was any sort of relapse. They don't really care about us. They just want our gold," she smiled softly, hoping that he would laugh or show some sort of amusement, but Harry just stared blankly at a freckle on her neck. "Oh, Harry," Hermione said, sighing and marking a kiss on his forehead. "I wish you wouldn't worry yourself like this. Come on, love- just enjoy what you have while you still have it. You never know what's going to happen, Harry- tomorrow you could forget all about this."
Harry turned to her sharply.
"Don't you say that, Hermione. Don't you ever say that."
He held her shoulders tightly, but Hermione felt protected rather than frightened.
"I know you're confused, baby," she said, holding his cheeks in her palms. "And I wish there was some way I could ease you... but I can't. I'm trying to make you comfortable, Harry. Let me." Harry sighed and bowed his head, placing his forehead to her chest. He didn't say anything, but Hermione understood him perfectly and complied to hold him for a minute or so. "Harry, I'm sorry," she said then, pulling back. "I've got to go; I'm going to be late."
"Yeah," he agreed, and rested himself back against the pillows while Hermione crawled off of him and went back to the mirror to fix herself. "I'm just restless. I feel like I'm stuck here, in this house."
"You don't like it here?" Hermione looked suddenly devastated. "You want to move already? Harry- I've just gotten this job and I-"
"No, no-" Harry corrected her. "I just wish I could do something. Get a job- work... I'd give anything to play a ruddy game of Quidditch."
"I know, Harry... but I can't let you. Trying to get a job was how you got in this mess in the first place, and I won't let it happen again. I won't," she said, and sighed, fixing her hair finally into a haphazard bun. "As for Quidditch, it's a bit difficult to play without a broomstick and with no teammates... and in a muggle village at that!" She laughed.
"Hermione," Harry said, but didn't sound at all cheerful. She frowned. "Hermione, what's that?"
"What's... what's what, Harry?"
In a minute, he was up and out of bed, standing behind her and caressing the exposed part of her neck with the pad of his thumb. Hermione tensed.
"There's a number tattooed on the back of your neck!"
"What?" Hermione said, sounding as if she had had no idea that the number existed. It was an impulse, and she kicked herself for it afterward. "I mean, what number is it?" Harry's eyes narrowed.
"Three twenty nine... what is it?"
"Oh, that's March twenty ninth- that's my birthday. Come to think of it, I remember that tattoo- I had Lavender do it with a spell second or third year. Stupid kid I was," she said airily and looked at her watch. "Oh, I'm going to be late!" Hermione made as if to leave, but Harry caught her wrist.
"I thought your birthday was in September," he said accusingly, and Hermione felt slightly panicked, as her birthday was in September.
"Are you calling me a liar, Harry?" she asked, laughing slightly. "Honestly! Why would I lie about my birthday?" Harry stared. "Oh, come on Harry! What else would it be?"
"The girls at the establishment had numbers assigned... tattooed on the backs of their necks," Harry said, monotonous and chary. Hermione looked suddenly distressed and near tears.
"Harry, you know I hate it when you say things like that. It... it scares me. That didn't happen Harry, you've got to believe me! All this- all these connections you're making- they're just things your mind made up when you had that attack! I promise you this is nothing!"
Reluctantly, Harry let go of her wrist. Hermione held it to her, although it hadn't been damaged in the slightest.
"I have to go to work," she said, and disappeared out the door. Harry stared after her for a few moments before returning to the horrible pastime that was bed rest.
-x-x-x-
"All right, everyone- today's the day. Everybody ready?" Justin bellowed, banging on his chest and stomping through corridors to wake the sleeping. Draco rolled out of his bed and mechanically walked down the hall, opening the door to a nursery that was vacant of child. He panicked for a moment, before remembering that Apria was safe in the care of her muggle grandparents (Neville's grandmother having died a few years past).
He then showered and dressed in the bathroom down the hall before moving with the slow crowd to the kitchen where, despite the fact that she had been granted reprieve of cooking by her husband, Janelle Longbottom was serving hotcakes and eggs as if it were her calling. Neville sat near the end of the table, between Morag McDougal and Blaise Zabini. He was toying with a breakfast bun, but did not show any real intent to eat it.
"Blaise, shove off," Draco said as he approached the table and Blaise rolled his eyes, but obliged to move to the next empty seat, eggs and all. Having freed himself a spot, Draco sat down beside Neville and stole his bun, taking a hearty bite. "Ya'll right, mate?" he said, quite unsophisticated and rudely, with mouth showcasing his recently pilfered and ground bun.
"No, Draco- I'm not all right," Neville said, seeming both calm and very morose. Draco paused his chewing immediately and swallowed- if on the day of the greatest battle in all the world Neville Longbottom were not completely paranoid and jumpy, something was most definitely wrong. "I don't want her to fight, Draco. I'd give my life if she'd give in- I couldn't ever live with myself if something happened to her." Draco put down his bun.
"Nev... nothing's going to happen. Nell's a strong girl, she'll be fine-"
"That doesn't change the fact that she's a muggle, Draco. She's in so much danger, just being there! Who knows what sort of affect a petrificous totalus could have on a muggle! It's not like anyone's really tried it! And what about the magic? That gun... that gun won't do anything, and she's convinced it will. She's never fired a gun before! What if it backfires, or doesn't fire right or something?" He sighed, dropping his head onto his plate. "Why is she doing this to me?"
"Look, Neville-" Draco started, but was thankfully interrupted, as he had no idea what he was going to say. Janelle came around behind them and dished sausages onto their plates, after first moving Neville's head quite forcefully by the hair. She smiled brightly at Draco, but blatantly ignored her husband and continued down the line of starving fighters. "Well, Nev, right now, my advice would be to patch up before we get going. You'd hate yourself if something happened, wouldn't you? Well, you'd hate yourself more if you parted fighting." Neville seemed to have absorbed his point, so Draco dug quickly into his sausages and shoveled pancakes from the platter in the center of the table. He ate heartily, as he needed his strength, but quickly, as he needed to talk to Justin and fill himself in on the battle plans.
-x-
"Stand by!" Justin yelled as he rode his broom past the line of fighters, hiding in the forbidden forest surrounding the castle. Draco kept his eyes on the target, but his ears were focused elsewhere.
"Janelle!" Neville called in a relieved stage-whisper. "Oh, God, I thought I wouldn't find you- I thought..."
"You thought what, Neville?"
Draco shifted slightly- Janelle was positioned behind him (as she could not fly a broom of her own) and was holding very tight to his waist. He had promised her that he wouldn't alert Neville to her presence on his broomstick, and it was obvious she'd thought him traitor. In truth, Draco wished he had sold her out- at least then the sharp pains would be for cause. Neville pulled up alongside them.
"Never mind," he said softly, looking toward the ground. There was a pause, and then Justin made his way back down the lines.
"Any minute now. At the ready," he coached, a true military general and mastermind. He had disguised five select members of their group (Draco and Neville excluded for obvious reasons) as chauvinistic men searching for a spot in the establishment. They were to enter under the guise of 'having a look around'- a trick as old as the establishment itself, but still in good working order- and find Maruiz' quarters. Four were to seal the room, kill the body guards, and keep Mauriz at bay while the other waited for a signal, to in turn signal the troops. The group had entered the establishment successfully over thirty minutes ago, and had yet to return or signal. It was obvious that Justin was getting a bit worried.
For all Justin knew, it could be hours- probably not days, but it was possible. Neville, however, had taken Justin's words to literally mean a few minutes. His head snapped so quickly that Draco turned slightly in alarm. Janelle, evidently, did the same.
"Baby, please don't be mad at me," he said, moving his broom a few inches closer to Draco's. "I'm sorry I made you feel... that way," he said, eyeing Draco slightly. Though he was a close family friend, Neville did not fancy sharing the intimate details of his relationship with him. "But, Nell, this is going to be dangerous. I still don't want you here, but I understand that you need to be here- for you. I'm not going to try to get you to turn back anymore, I don't really want to. I don't want to fight anymore- not now, not when we're literally facing this. Please, Nell. I love you." Janelle turned her face into Draco's back and eased her tight grip on his abdomen. She paused a moment, then nodded.
"You're right, Nev. Come here," she instructed and he did. They kissed, quite passionately, and Janelle adjusted her gun before climbing onto Neville's broom and squeezing him from behind. "I love you too. Sometimes I don't know why, you big lug."
"Yeah," he said, holding one of the hands that were pressed to his stomach. "I don't either."
"Are you two love-birds finished? We're trying to have a war here!" Justin said, generating a laugh from the surrounding soldiers, Draco included.
"Fletchley! Flag!" called a nameless recruit from down the line, and Justin turned his eyes to the castle, where Seamus Finnegan was frantically waving a Hogwarts flag.
"Dammit, Longbottom...s!" he cursed, and then pointed ahead. "Attack!"
-x-
The battle was long and trying. Mauriz was taken down almost instantly, a joke of a substitute for Voldemort. He surrendered with ease, losing all dignity he may have had, and gave up all passwords to suites and counter-spells to wards. The establishment husbands, however, were not so easily conquered. Upon realizing that their lifestyles were in danger of extinction and their bodies in danger of incarceration, they dressed and readied themselves to fight. By the one-hour mark, there was a full battle raging between the two sides; hundreds of men against the mixed army of Hogwarts alumni.
Some of the insiders had tried to convince the women to fight, but they were too scared and feeble to do so. Most of them were skin and bones, and had very little experience in such situations- not to mention none of them possessed any wands. The women who did decide to join the effort were the untouchables; the cooks, the laundry ladies, the gofers, the pages, and the medics. They abandoned their posts (save one or two medics, who were in the middle of birthing about six babies in the Maternity Campanile (aka Murder Central) and simply could not leave the mothers to their own) and joined the Hogwarts front with borrowed wands, or broomsticks, or scalpels, or whatever they could find. Justin was quite impressed with their vigor, and chalked it up to pent up frustration- it isn't everyday that one sees a broad-hipped old woman attack a grown man and crack his occipital bone with a butter knife.
Draco fought alongside Justin, and noticed just as quickly as the General that their troops were slowly receding.
"Justin..." he said, aiming and shooting select curses at select men, imagining in his head that each target had at one time or another picked Hermione as a concubine.
"I know," Justin answered, though Draco had neglected to finish his question. "We've got to do something." He paused. "I have an idea. You take the back six, and sneak around the other side. Charge through the middle, and split them into two separate parts."
"That'll work?" Draco asked, though he himself did not have a better plan. Justin gave a shrug.
"I saw it in a movie once."
"Well," Draco said. "If Chaplin's the best defense we've got, I don't see any harm in trying."
"That's the spirit. Go!"
Draco did as he was told, taking the six rows of soldiers toward the back of the army and retreating back into the forest. He scanned their faces as reminders of exactly whom was on his side, and couldn't help but be worried that neither Janelle or Neville was among those in his sub-division.
He pushed the worst-case-scenarios out of his mind and led the troops through the forest, keeping as close to the outer edge as possible without alerting enemy fighters to their location. They followed the forest until it took them behind the castle, at which point they filed out and trudged through the mud surrounding the edifice, past spots of nostalgia most would rather not have seen; the greenhouses, Hagrid's hut, the lake-
"Charge! Through the middle!" Draco called, and his forces pushed their way through the men, beating a path with wand-fire. True, it was somewhat unsportsmanlike, as many of the curses were shot from behind, but all is fair in war. "You! Stand your ground!" Draco instructed, and a handful of soldiers remained at the back of enemy lines, successfully dividing the Establishment army like a fertilized cell that just wants to be twins.
Justin's cinema-gold plan was ultimately a success. The fight went on until the last man surrendered and, although the Hogwarts alliance had lost its fair share of soldiers, the Establishment was crushed. The minister was alerted, and the POWs were sent straight to Azkaban, Mauriz along with them. His kiss was scheduled for the following afternoon, with no trial warranted.
After the fighting, it was up to those who remained to clean up. Justin's half of the army sorted through the women, getting names and addresses before sending a handful or so at a time with a military escort to St. Mungo's for check-ups. Draco's half of the army, however, had taken the more devastating of jobs. The sheer inhumanity of the scene inside Hogwarts (oh, how wonderful it was to finally call it Hogwarts again) where hundreds of women huddled together, wearing warm clothing that had been transfigured from the furniture in the husbands' suites, eating thousands of pieces of fried chicken as if their lives depended on it, was certainly heartbreaking (the food had been donated by Dobby's Place, a café created by Dobby and the other house elves, who had heard the going-ons from the kitchens and gotten out of Hogwarts before Mauriz could find them). The scene outside, however, was just as, if not more, distressful.
Bodies of men littered the entire front campus of the school; piles indistinguishable as offence or defense. The Hogwarts Alliance had lost a good number of men and women, but the body count of the husbands was unimaginable. They may have been enemies, but they were still men, and it was Draco's job to lead in the search for the recoverably injured, and count the number dead.
His troops immediately set to work, deciding to start from one side of the field and work toward the other. Draco, who was not feeling his best and did not fancy the company of others, decided it in his best interest to walk along the shore of the bloody sea and think about the carnage. He had made it nearly half way without registering the identification of a single fallen soldier. Then, he stopped in his tracks.
"Shit," he cursed to himself, and started walking again with quicker steps. "Janelle." He came to his knees at her side, and placed a hand on her back. "Janelle?"
"He's gone," she said softly, balling clumps of Neville's white uniform in her hands as she lay on top of him, shielding him from further damage. "He's dead, Draco, he's dead. I was yelling at him- because... I don't even remember. I just remember being angry, and yelling and then... and then..."
"It's okay, Nell. Come on," Draco said softly, and helped her up. Janelle was slightly resistant, and acted as if she wanted to hold on to her fallen lover until she herself perished with him. "Nell," Draco whispered, and she turned to him, holding him tightly and crying into his uniform. Draco held her, and looked down to where Neville lay fallen, a small circular hole burned into his abdomen, and the life gone from his open eyes.
"He was so worried for me," she said. "So worried. And all I wanted was to come- to be included. Maybe if I'd just stayed home... he wouldn't have been distracted. I wouldn't have yelled- he would have seen the curse coming-"
"Shh, Nell," he said, holding her bloody blonde curls to him. "There was nothing you could do to stop it. He was protecting you, I know he was. He loved you. He wouldn't want you to be like this..." Draco found that he too was getting choked up, from a combination of the loss and simply watching Janelle cry. "He'd want you to press on, and go home, and take care of Appy. And make sure that she knows how much her daddy loved her, huh?" Janelle nodded, squeezing her eyes tightly closed. "If it helps at all," Draco said, kissing the top of her head. "He didn't feel any pain. None at all- curses that kill are ironically tolerable."
"How do you know that? Are you the voice of experience?" she wanted to sound angry, but failed miserably. Draco was very understanding.
"You'll just have to believe me, Nell."
Draco stayed with Janelle, allowing her to vent her pain and frustrations into his dirty, white cotton vest, until the scavenging team happened upon them. They stood back for a moment in respect, bowing their heads at the loss of an influential comrade, and feeling condolence for his young daughter and widowed wife. Draco whispered to Janelle, telling her that it was time for Neville to go inside where it was warm, and she nodded her agreement. The team approached, and two of the men carried Neville into the third of three tents which had been pitched- the first for the banged up, the second for the seriously wounded, and the third for the casualties. The rest of the men and women found their own corpses to relocate, as they were in no short supply.
Teige came running to the scene within minutes, having been alerted by another soldier, and took her sister from the caring arms of Draco Malfoy. Draco couldn't help but be angry at first, though he showed no outward signs. Who was Teige Ackerly to console her sister on the loss of Neville Longbottom, whom she herself despised? It was only when Draco saw the tears rolling down her cheeks that he trusted Teige to be the one to stay with Janelle.
"Come on," he said, and helped them both to their feet. "She needs... something. Why don't you take her with the next batch to Mungo's? We'll manage without you- she needs you more, at this point." Teige looked to Draco with admiration, and nodded softly through her tears before turning in the direction of the port-keying station and dragging her rag-doll of a sister beside her. Draco sighed and wiped at his eyes before helping to remove the rest of the bodies.
-x-x-x-
Harry was asleep when Hermione got home from her triple shift. It was late, nearly midnight (as she had been volunteered to work until closing, and then count all the proceeds for the day before locking up), and she dressed down before climbing into bed behind him and throwing an arm around his waist. Harry was, evidently, not as asleep as she had believed, because he picked up her hand and squeezed it.
"Ow, Harry-" she said, sitting up and wrenching her hand away out of impulse. "My ring... pinched." Harry rolled onto his back and looked up at her with a frown.
"Sorry," he said, but she shook her head and settled down beside him. "Can I see?"
"See what?" Hermione asked, stifling a yawn with his chest. Harry smiled and kissed her hair.
"Your ring. What's it for?"
Hermione showed him, and smiled sadly.
"It's my wedding ring- from you," she said, and Harry's countenance mirrored her own.
"Oh," he said flatly, and inspected the little piece of gold. "Why don't I have one?" He asked, but continued before Hermione could answer. "And what's the 'D' mean?"
"Well," she started, seeming to be searching for words. "We didn't want to spend a lot of money on it... we thought it was more important to save up, for a real house, and a family. We bought this one at a pawn shop. You said you didn't need one, because you'd have me." Hermione smiled at the fabricated memory and kissed his chest. "I don't know what the 'D' stands for."
"Hm," Harry said, tying his arms around her. Hermione sighed in contentment.
"Blow out the candle, won't you, love?"
And Harry did, and the room was flushed with darkness.
-
A/N: Sorry, poppets! I do love this chapter. Oh, and I know Neville's death was a tragedy— Merlin, I love him so much! I'm wearing black for the next week, in mourning. I hope, other than that horrible death thing, you all enjoyed this chapter. And I'm sorry that it isn't SEX, Beach. I'm trying, you know!
This chapter is dedicated to Alicia, who is evidently a fan and told me so over a dead rotting cat! Cheers, love! And sorry your chapters all mangled and death-ridden. At least there was fried chicken- that's an up, in'nt it?