The Good Son

Chapter Sixteen

Heartbeat and Heartbreak

Cassiopeia sighed loudly as she renewed the wards surrounding her husband's heart, ignoring the grim knowledge that his last attack had nearly destroyed them. She herself couldn't bind them to be as powerful as they once were, but she could heal a few of the cracks and broken glyphs so as to increase their durability. Albus whimpered beneath her touch, the terrible feeling of weakness that always came over him after periods during which his dark energy had surfaced was hurting his body badly this time. She could feel how raw his heart felt, his veins scraped like bloodied sandpaper by the warring darkness and light within himself. If she hadn't arrived when she had . . . no, she didn't want to think about what may have happened.

She didn't want to think about how close she had come to losing him.

Her father had managed to convince the general public that Albus was not a danger to society; he was merely a very powerful wizard who in his anger had lost control and begun performing accidental magic. Due to his new power as Minister of Magic, he had been able to back this statement up with credible – forged, not that the public needed to know that – evidence about how extreme emotions could cause a wizard to lose control.

The fact that Harry Potter had kidnapped his ex-wife and tried to use her to murder his own son had not gone over well with the majority of the wizarding world, especially as the crowd who witnessed his patronus had been laced through with highly influential individuals and journalists. Both groups had spread the tale near and far causing Harry and his remaining loyalists to have to go into hiding. Draco and Hermione were both adamant that they were going to continue causing trouble but now that The Outcasts had the power of the Ministry backing them they didn't see what possible damage the Boy-Who-Lived could possibly do. Cassiopeia had also bound the senior Potter with a life debt and she was confident he would be leaving her family alone.

One did not mess with a life debt; just ask Peter Pettigrew and his silver hand.

Her main concern now was Albus and how to protect him from the darkness within. Her husband was a good man, she hated that his traumatic childhood had led them to making several mistakes that may haunt him for the rest of his life. She was scared that one day she may lose him to the shadows, which was something she couldn't contemplate right now.

"Done," she breathed, smiling wanly as Albus rose from the bed and shrugged his shirt back on, a glimmer of hesitation in his eyes as he opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm sorry," were the first words he spoke to her since the incident, she didn't know how to respond. He had nothing to be sorry for, he was the victim of his father's malignity. So she hugged him, pulling him in for a deep embrace and kissing him on his forehead. He shivered slightly, still suffering from the aftermath of his trials.

"It isn't your fault," she said softly, "She's your mother." Albus nodded slowly, leaning his head against her shoulder, his free hand laid across her stomach; now four months pregnant. He hadn't understood what had come over him, when Harry had insinuated that he had the woman he loved most in the world captive he had gone ballistic, completely forgetting that Cassiopeia was safely ensconced in Malfoy Manor and that his father had no way on getting through the wards without invitation. But then he had heard his mother's scream and he had completely lost control.

She was recovering from her ordeal now, asleep in one of the guest rooms of the Manor. According to James, she would be moving in with him and Alison until their father was brought to justice. Things were still difficult between the two boys but they had since regained a semblance of their former bond. While they weren't as close as they had been in the past, they were talking again – James showing up to his baby brothers wedding had a step in the right direction for the brothers and for that alone, Albus was willing to try and make things work with James because he would always be his big brother . . . and he had missed him.

If there was one thing both boys could agree on though, it was that Harry was bad news. Albus had known for years but when their father kidnapped Ginny it had pulled from James the last hopes that his father was just misguided.

It still scared him how close he had come to losing himself in the darkness though and he knew that he owed everything to Cass because once again she had saved him from himself.

"Thank you for bringing me back," he whispered into her ear, his breath ghosting over her lobe as she rubbed his back.

"I will always be there to bring you back," she replied, inhaling his scent as he held onto to her as if his life depended on it, "Always."

(*)(*)(*)

"Xav," said Kat nervously as she sat across from him on the window seat, her body tense as she extended her legs so that they lay draped over his own, "I have something to tell you."

"What is it?" he looked at her in concern, a light smile on his face as his eyes fell over the engagement ring worn on her finger. He had never been happier in his life as when she agreed to marry him – although they both had agreed that a long engagement would be in order until things settled down. Like as not they were now very high profile individuals because the Outcasts were in power. The pair found that they were often stalked by journalists and the paparazzi because they were both lieutenants in the Outcast hierarchy. It didn't help in the slightest that the world was changing for the better and a great many of the old pureblood families viewed them as revolutionary heroes whilst Harry's loyalists viewed them as neo-death eaters.

So what if they used dark magic, they used it for the greater good.

Already new legislature was being put in place, teaching standards had been revamped to prevent the abuse of power by the Hogwarts Professors – Neville Longbottom was currently serving two years in Azkaban for crimes against Wizardkind; it was surprising how many were willing to speak up once the justice system was no longer rigged to solely support the other houses – and there was already greater tolerance between the students of Hogwarts.

But of course there were those who preferred looking at the negatives, Harry for one still had his agents and propaganda against them was regularly surfacing. The latest had attempted to gain sympathy for playing on the fact that Neville – a war hero – was rotting in Azkaban because of the Outcasts. They had readily bit back by Cassiopeia, Rose and Elena Flint all dropping their gloves and exposing the scars along the back on their hands to the general public. After that stunt, Harry and his Loyalists didn't try using Neville as a symbol again.

But that was beside the point because from what he could tell right now, Kat's eyes were darkly ringed, her face pale and her voice bespoke a degree of nervousness. He looked at her worriedly when she didn't answer, "You ok Kat?"

"I'm . . ." she struggled to get the words out, "I'm pregnant Xavier." Then she closed her eyes, not wanting to see his expression for fear of what it may entail. What if he didn't want kids? What if he didn't want to marry her anymore? What if he didn't want her anymore? Xavier and her had never discussed the future much, neither had discussed children, they had even both mutually agreed to put of their wedding and enjoy engaged life for a while. What if he wasn't ready?

"I'm going to be a dad?" she cracked open her eyes and stared; the stunned glee in his voice was definitely not feigned. When she nodded he let out a delighted cry before scooping her up and spinning her around the room, "I'm gonna be a dad," he kept repeating, a broad, wondrous smile across his face.

She felt a weight lift of her shoulders, she needed to stop doubting their relationship, needed to stop fearing the unknown.

Because it was and it always with be Xavier and her against the world.

(*)(*)(*)

"Tough day?" asked Hermione as she soaked in the steaming, jasmine scented waters of her bath, feeling the knots in her tense shoulders and back unwind.

"Very much so," sighed Draco from beside the sink, his words slightly garbled by the toothbrush in his mouth. It was late and as usual he had been forced to grab dinner at the Ministry canteen whilst Hermione dined with her step-daughter. Cassiopeia was the only one who made it home for dinner most days, solely because Albus insisted she only work half-days at the Potions department due to her pregnancy. She was the head of that particular department, although Albus ran the actual laboratories.

"Any news of Ron and Harry?" she asked, knowing the answer but hoping that she could lift her husband's tensions by getting him to talk about it.

"No, both seem to have gone to ground," muttered Draco, "Though Kingsley is searching for them."

"The three of us spent an entire year hiding from Voldemort and his death eaters," pointed out Hermione, "If they don't want to be found then Kingsley won't find them."

"They only managed to elude capture back then because you where with them," said Draco, "And I'd rather not discuss Pothead and the Weasel right now."

They continued like that in silence for a while, Hermione bathing while he prepared for bed. After a while though, Hermione spoke again, her eyes somewhat dark with lust as she surveyed her husband, now clad only in his boxers.

"Care to join me?" she asked, it had been too long since they had made love, they had both been so caught up in the recent events.

"'Mione," whimpered Draco, "I'm so tired."

"I just need you to wash my back," she said with a shrug, knowing he wanted her as much as she wanted him. He was after all a man . . . and if she thought it had been too long Merlin only knew what he thought.

"Fine," he grumbled, slipping of his shorts and slipping into the water behind her, stifling a yawn which rapidly transformed into a low moan as she lay against him, her back flush against his chest. She turned her head slightly to trail a line of kisses along his jaw.

"Still not in the mood," she murmured teasingly.

"Oh shut up 'Mione," he said huskily, tilting his head to press his lips to hers.

(*)(*)(*)

"Rose?" asked Delphin cautiously as he stepped out of their fireplace, troubled at the sounds of sobbing which flowed from their bedroom. He shook his head in an attempt to clear the tiredness from his eyes, dropping his bag onto the couch as he went looking for her. He didn't know why she was upset to the point of tears because Rose never cried – he had seen her cry only twice in her life and he had known her for near a decade.

She was lying on their bed, hugging her pillow as tightly as she could and soaking it through with her tears. When she saw him enter she looked away, shivering lightly in the cold. He noticed that the thermostat was as usual turned down low, an obvious sign that she was moody. He knew that Rose always preferred the cold when she was emotional.

"Rosie," he said her name again as he lay down beside her still in his work clothes, "What's wrong?"

She shook her head, not deigning to turn to face him, her body wracked with those heaving sobs that broke his heart. He hated seeing her upset; he hated it when he couldn't heal her hurts. Because when Rose hurt . . . Delphin hurt, it had been what drove him to consider her as a steady girlfriend, the fact that he genuinely cared for her unlike all the other girls he had been with before her.

"Talk to me love," he said, shifting to lay on his side so that he had an arm placed over her. She tried to shake him off but he held firm and after a bit she stopped fighting and seemed to shrink into him.

"I'm a horrible person," she said finally, her voice tiny and weak as he ran his free hand through her hair. He remained silent as he threaded his fingers though her waves of golden silk, waiting for her to continue.

"Kat came by today and told me she was pregnant," said Rose in that same sad voice, the one that Delphin was coming to loathe because it made his Rosie sound so weak and vulnerable when she was the strongest woman he knew, "And instead of feeling happy for her all I felt was jealousy." The news that Kat was pregnant flitted by him, stored away for future reference, she was not his immediate concern. Rose was. And in that moment he hated Ron more than he had ever hated him or any other, he hated him for stabbing her, he hated him for killing their child and he bitterly hoped that he had painfully bled to death after Rose was done with him.

They hadn't found a body though.

"I'm sorry," said Delphin quietly, not really knowing what to say because of course it must hurt Rose now more than ever, what with her sister and best friend both being pregnant. "You're not a bad person Rose," he continued, "It's natural to feel that way. I feel like a terrible person every time I look at Albus and feel envious that he's so happy about starting a family because I can't have that." As soon as the words left his mouth and he felt her stiffen, he knew it was the wrong thing to say.

"I didn't mean it like that Rose," he said quickly, "There are so many other ways to be parents, I've been thinking we could look at adoption agencies," he babbled, not really knowing what he was saying but trying to soothe her, because he hadn't meant it. He loved her like the stars loved the moon in that he could shine alongside no other but her. He loved her drive and her passion, he loved her and even if they could not start their own family there were other ways – surrogacy and adoption, both of which he had asked Hugo to look into legally for them. It didn't matter if their children may not be his blood.

Rose would always be worth it to him.

"It's ok," she mumbled and he knew dammit he knew that she was lying but like a fool he believed her, "Let's just get some sleep." Delphin nodded mutely, stung by her pained voice but deciding he would let her sleep and they would talk in the morning. He sighed and closed his eyes, not intending to actually sleep.

A few hours later he woke and in the white light of the moon he threw out his arm and her side of the bed was cold, empty save for a single scrap of parchment.

You can have all of that, just not with me . . .

I love you Del, that's why I need to let you go.

-R

(*)(*)(*)

Albus groaned audibly as the sky-blue paint dripped of the brush and splattered across his hair, he was painting the nursery and both he and Cass had decided to go against the traditional house colours approach and to paint the room a neutral blue – especially seeing as their healer at St. Mungo's told them that they were indeed expecting a boy.

Albus just hoped he didn't inherit his messy hair.

Glaring crossly at his two companions to ward off his brother-in-laws' sniggers he turned back to the plain white walls to continue painting. Both Hugo and Scorpius had been recruited to help by Hermione and she had locked the three into the former guestroom without their wands insisting she would not let them out till the room was painted. The three had scowled at that, especially since they could expect no help from Xavier – who was painting the nursery which had once been the guest bedroom at his apartment – or Delphin, who had been an emotional wreck since Rose had left a month ago. From what the three of them could piece together, mainly Hugo who had used his legal connections and expertise to find out what he could, she had handed in her resignation to The Guild by buying her way out of the contract and had left the country on an assignment for Gringotts. Delphin on the other hand was putting all of his efforts into tracking her down and nothing his friends said could dissuade him –He wanted his Rose back.

"Why did mum take our wands," complained Hugo and he painted white fluffy clouds onto the one wall on which the blue paint had already dried, "We could be done by now."

"I blame Albus for knocking up our sister," grumbled Scorpius, his shirt splattered with yellow from when he had attempted to paint a sun; thankfully Hugo knew enough wandless magic to clean up the floors.

"I could blame you for the same," pointed out Albus crossly as he wiping his brow hurriedly to keep the paint from leaking into his eye, instantly regretting his jibe when he saw the dark look in his best friend's face. Scowling, Scorpius turned his back on them and began to violently assault the last remaining wall with his paintbrush. Hugo and Albus just exchanged looks, neither of them knew what Scor was going through – neither knew what it was like to never know your own child.

(*)(*)(*)

"Where are the boys?" asked Draco curiously as he helped himself to lunch, a muggle delicacy that Hermione called "Pizza" which was apparently very tasty. He reserved the right to pass judgement, sniffing suspiciously at the triangular piece of bread and squinting at the melted cheese with an expression of utmost mistrust.

Not that he thought Hermione would poison him but one never knew when it came to muggle foods. He still remembered the time she had tried introducing him to "sushi" which he had thought quite tasty until realising it was basically raw fish. He had spent the week on the couch in protest.

"Painting the nursery," said Cass with a smug smirk on her face, exchanging a wink with Hermione as she walked in with a bowl of spaghetti bolognaise Hermione had cooked specially for her – the slightest mention of cravings often had Lady Malfoy scurrying about to make her step-daughter comfortable. Hermione was for her part putting on a brave face and trying to stay strong for her son – who was taking Rose's absence very badly – whilst inside she was crumbling because she had no idea where Rose was or if she was ok. Draco was faring better, although he was also worried about his daughter.

The tantalising aroma from Cass' food filled the room as she pushed her fork in, breaking the keep-fresh charm. Draco stared ruefully at the delicious home cooked meal and then back at the pizza, wondering if he could perhaps vanish the lunch without his wife noticing and then floo to the Leaky Cauldron for a quick bite.

"Draco," said Hermione, "You haven't touched your food." The brunette was struggling to contain her mirth as she watched her husband scrutinize his meal as if it was about to leap up and attack him.

"You know I'm unsure about these muggle dishes 'Mione," he said, taking a timid bite of the tip, his eyes suddenly widening in delight. Much to the two ladies amusement, he proceeded to then scarf down four entire slices before settling back in his chair with a satisfied smile on his face.

"Anything else dear?" chuckled Hermione whilst winking at her stepdaughter as Cass stifled a laugh at her father's antics; her brothers and husband where exactly the same as her father. She was beginning to see where Scorpius got his table manners from.

"These muggles are quite genius," he proclaimed, oblivious to their teasing, "I do believe we should try muggle beer next, it can't be that different from butterbeer."

Cassiopeia couldn't help it, she burst out laughing.

(*)(*)(*)

"I miss this," said James in a wistful tone, nudging his brother as he sipped at his beer. The brothers weren't bosom friends yet, they wouldn't be in a long time after all the hurt they had inflicted out on each other but at the very least them both making the effort to meet was a start in mending their relationship.

"Miss what?" asked Albus, leaning back against the windscreen of his brother's car; the other boy beside him. Why James needed a car he would never know and he would rather not ask. He reached into his pocket for his worn box of cigarettes, the same box he had had since his schooldays and pulled out a fag.

"I miss us," said James honestly, "I miss being able to spend time with my baby brother."

"You think I wanted to lose my brother?" asked Albus, a tad defensively, his voice slightly thick but there was a biting edge to it. James could tell he was repressing something because after all, he knew his brother . . . time, pain, estrangement, none of those things could dim either boys knowledge of the other.

"No," James replied quietly, the usual well of guilt flooding him when he realised that he had nobody but himself to blame for breaking the bonds of their brotherhood. Sure their father and society had played a hand but he had done nothing to publically salvage their bond.

Sometimes doing nothing was a worse crime than doing everything.

"I'll never be able to tell you how sorry I–" he began, feeling he should say something, anything; because he owed it to his brother.

"Damn right you can never do that," interrupted Albus with a snort, "I needed you back then James, you were the person who was supposed to always have my back, not the bastard who would stab me in it. But honestly that's in the past so let's just leave it there James; I don't know if I can forgive you. I'll try but I can't promise that I will. But lets' just start fresh, we both did horrible things to each other – even though to be honest I only ever acted in self defence. So let's just wipe the slate clean and move on . . . as brothers."

James nodded, glad that he was being given the chance to do right by the brother he had failed. Albus offered him a strange look, his lips trembling ever so slightly as hazel met emerald, their eyes both filled with remorse and things better left unsaid. James shook his head when Al held out the box of cigarettes.

"You still haven't lost that habit," said James, his tone lighter, an edge of teasing slipping back into his voice. He hadn't spoken to Al like this in a long time.

"You knew?" Albus raised an eyebrow. It wasn't as if he smoked often whilst he lived at Grimmauld Place, he only lit one if his door was heavily warded and he had been to beat up to use dark magic to numb himself. And he had only begun smoking on the Hogwarts grounds after James had left Hogwarts.

"Just because we weren't speaking and I was out of school, doesn't mean I didn't check up on you from time to time," said James, suddenly realising how much like a stalker he sounded like. He wasn't though, he had just been there in the background all those times. When Al had locked himself in his room after their father had been particularly violent, James had often climbed in through the window once Al was asleep – he had smelt the acrid nicotine many a times whilst he magically filtered the air and cast numbing charms on his brother's bruises. Or that some days he would slip dreamless sleep into his brother's dinner just to make sure the younger boy didn't have nightmares – he had never heard Albus scream, but he knew a silencing ward when he sensed it. These were things that Albus would never know because James would never –could never – tell him. He would never confess that he had been there by his side, hiding in the shadows the entire time because that would mean admitting he had been too ashamed to help his brother face-to-face.

He felt himself relax when Albus slung an arm across his shoulders, apprehensively at first but still the attempt had been made.

"You know something Jay-Jay," said Albus with a weak smile and James felt ready to do a happy dance because only two people called him that and he had never thought to hear it again . . . not with Lily having dropped off the face of the world and his brother having become so estranged, "I think we'll be alright."

(*)(*)(*)

"Al," called Cassandra, somewhat imperiously, from the couch she was reclining on. The living room was quite full; her mother, step-mother and mother-in-law where all present, as was Kat and her future sister-in-law Francesca (Hugo hadn't proposed but Cass had overheard him asking Albus for advice on the matter). Her actual sister-in-law Victoire was here as well, looking distinctly awkward but remaining polite to everyone – apart from Ginny and Hermione, the rest of the women were all pretty much strangers to her. The men had been playing a game of Quidditch in the yard and from the looks of it Teddy and her father seemed to have hit it off rather well; then again they were cousins. Delphin was not present; he had left the previous night saying he wouldn't be coming home till he had found Rose. Albus walked over tiredly, looking slightly worn out from the game but smiling at her nonetheless.

"My leg itches and I just got comfortable," she said sweetly, winking as he groaned but nevertheless kneeled at the foot of the couch to scratch her calf.

"Mate, I can see her thumbprint on the top of your head," laughed Teddy, earning chuckles from the other men. "Whipped," muttered Xavier with a teasing grin.

"Teddy dear," said Victoire, a soft smirk playing on her lips as she spoke, "I remember you shaving my legs for me when I was pregnant with Andy." The metamorphmagus flushed, his hair bright red, hanging his head slightly as the men chuckled and several of the women giggled. Andrea was their daughter; there was a six year age gap between Remy and her but the pregnancy had been very difficult on Victoire. He had had to do things.

"I recall that you painted my toe-nails just last week Xav," teased Kat and her fiancé turned bright red, Draco opened his mouth to comment.

"Don't even start Draco," said Astoria with a wink, and the Minister of Magic fell silent, remembering that he had served two pregnancies with the woman. He shuddered; she really did have dirt on him. He didn't like the looks that were being exchanged by Hermione and Astoria either; it would be just like his ex-wife to spill his dirty details to his current wife.

"You guys were saying?" smirked Albus as he settled onto the couch with his wife's legs on his lap, "Whose the whipped one's now?"

"Albus!" chirped up Cassiopeia suddenly, "I want triple chocolate mint ice-cream."

"Yes dear," he said rolling his eyes at her sudden craving, ignoring the knowing looks from the people around him. Pregnancy had driven her quite crazy but it was his job to indulge her. She was after all, carrying his perfect baby boy.

(*)(*)(*)

"You alright, Scorp?" asked Albus as he studied his best friend, who had seemed oddly contemplative these past few days. Scorpius had been avoiding the family for the most part so Albus had floo'ed in straight to the Headquarters of Malfoy Holdings where his brother-in-law worked. Now that he had several years of experience and tutelage from Draco under his belt he was doing remarkably well at managing the family business, which was important considering that Draco was now Minister and could no run the Ministry and the business at the same time.

Malfoy Holdings was now the leading name in all fields, especially after Hermione had placed her own assets under their control – to be sure she still owned them as an individual but it was too taxing to manage her own business affairs, her department at Malfoy Holdings, be a Matriarch to her family and assist her husband with his own high-ranking job.

Scorpius' secretary had been instructed to not allow anyone into the boss' office as he hadn't wanted to see anyone. On the other hand, considering Albus was a Malfoy in all but name and blood and had married the boss' sister . . . the poor lady hadn't dared try and block his way.

"Not really, mate," responded the blonde boy, gesturing to the decanter of gin and motioning for Albus to pour them drinks. Albus frowned at this, it was barely midday, but he poured the drinks nonetheless.

"What's on your mind then?" asked Albus, sitting across from him, his frown deepening when he saw Scorpius gulp the generous serving of gin in a single fluid motion.

"It's his birthday today," said Scorpius quietly and Albus didn't need to hear anymore because he now knew exactly what was troubling his friend. It was his son's birthday, the son he had never seen save for a single newborn picture.

"I'm sorry Scor," said Al comfortingly, reaching across the table to pat his friend on the arm and pour another round. Alcohol seemed the appropriate solution in the situation.

"My son is two years old today and he has never had the chance to meet his father," sighed Scorpius as once again he downed the drink in one. Albus remained companionably silent – what exactly could he say?

"He has her eyes you know," said Scorpius after a while, "But my hair." He laughed humourlessly, "Merlin, How can I miss someone I have never met so fucking badly?"

(*)(*)(*)

"Harry," snapped Ron angrily, diverting his best friend's attention from the map he had been studying, "We need a plan!" He had barely survived Roses' assault, he had only lived thanks to Percy's showing up at Grimmauld Place to find Harry and stumbling across them all lying about the house soaked in blood. Ron had floo'ed there but fallen into unconsciousness from blood loss in the upstairs fireplace. When he had come too later he had dragged himself down the stairs to find Harry and a few members of the Order torn to shreds. Harry had barely survived the attack.

Both men were disgusted by the fact that the Outcasts were now in power and so they had rallied a small number of individuals to their cause. Thus were born the Loyalists, all of whom would be damned before they saw the snakes in power. It rankled on Ron and Harry's minds that The Ferret was now Minister whilst his spawn was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and that Minerva and Kingsley both seemed to support the new government. Indeed, Minerva had been highly responsive to making several changes to Hogwarts now that Albus and Draco had dealt with the bigots who comprised the school's Board of Governors. The only governors to retain their positions had been George Weasley and Blaise Zabini; both of whom agreed with the new concepts. Already the Loyalists had been repulsed to learn that there was a new compulsory class for all students of Hogwarts called Unity Studies along with several new inter-house programmes and team-building exercises. All these endeavours where proving hugely successful in Minerva's eyes as kinship between the four houses had never been stronger. Harry was appalled, the youth were now being encouraged to befriend and trust the serpents.

In Ron's eyes it was worse that Minerva had not raised a finger to defend "poor" Neville when he had been arrested and thrown in Azkaban. In actual fact, Minerva had been prepared to cruciate Neville when she discovered what exactly he had been doing to her students. Teddy Lupin now stood as Head of Gryffindor and from what Harry had heard, whilst he was much loved and respected by his own house he brooked no favourites and had been one of the first professors to support the new "Unity Programme."

Harry had never been so disappointed by his godson in his entire life; he could only imagine how Remus and Tonks must be rolling in their graves because their son was supporting the very house that had killed them.

As it stood though, the Loyalists could expect no assistance from Hogwarts.

Neither could they gain any aid from the Ministry, especially since Kingsley and Draco had had them both excommunicated from the Aurors and named them wanted men. Kingsley had been shaken to his core after viewing Albus' and Ginny's memories and had been forced to agree that Harry needed to be brought to justice for his actions. More so after Albus had shared several memories from his schooldays.

Once again the Loyalists were angry at his reaction . . . in their mind Kingsley had decided to betray them as well.

Both men were now convinced that the Outcasts were affiliated with the Dark and were planning to take control of their world; it started with this unity nonsense, soon enough there would be muggle hunting taking place in the streets if the Outcasts had their way (or so Ron claimed). Harry seemed to have gone into kamikaze mode; he was determined to commit the ultimate sin.

Save their world by killing his son.

The thought made Ron queasy, he was sure there was a special place in hell for those who spilled the blood of their family. He stabbing Rose was another matter entirely, she was not his daughter. She had betrayed him her entire life, no doubt poisoning his ex-wife against him from the moment the ferret spawn had injected her into his ex-wife's womb. He paused suddenly, seeing Harry grimace in pain and press a hand over his failing heart, pumping the organ full of magical energy to keep it beating.

By going against the lift debt he owed Cassiopeia Potter and continuing to plot against the Outcast movement, Harry was dying . . . every one of the Loyalists knew it. But he was an exceptionally powerful wizard and he was prolonging the inevitable for as long as possible. He had to save their world once again. Only then would he accept death.

"When playing a game of chess what is the most powerful piece on the board?" asked Harry contemplatively, causing Percy to look up his seat to pay attention to their conversation.

"The queen," responded Ron instantly, not seeing what his friend was implying.

"So to win the war, we must kill the queen," he said softly, and Percy's eyes widened in comprehension.

"She's the most powerful witch alive Harry," the bespectacled Weasley pointed out, he had only joined his brother and Harry in their vendetta because he wanted to avenge his daughter. Audrey had pleaded for him to come home but he could not, not whilst Molly's killers remained at large. Had his daughter not been a victim of this war, for that was what it was, he would actually find himself in agreement with a great number of the Outcast's ideologies. He had seen the significant restructuring of the Ministry and could not deny that Albus was achieving a lot of good in their world.

"She must fall so that we can rise," he said darkly, "She's my son's greatest lieutenant."

"Hermione," said Ron, "You're talking about killing Hermione."

(*)(*)(*)

A/N: Thoughts?