I don't own Harry Potter, blaaaah.

AN: Ok, so there's only so many times I can say the same thing, but I've tried to include the last of the exposition in this chapter. Some of it is summary, for those of you who are confused, and some of it is new information. I was going to give background on Hermione's farm and leaving magic anyway, so that's alright. I hope the short interlude at the beginning makes sense. :) Keep reading, anyway, and it will.

There were few things, anymore, that Lucius Malfoy noticed or took pleasure in. In fact, he didn't think on it enough to know what those things even were, but he was sure he must have cared at some point. As it stood, there was nothing he cared for anymore.

Except his son. He knew Draco, was always aware of him. Would never leave him. Or perhaps it was the other way around. Because he had left, hadn't he. Sitting as he did now, a shell of a man, watching nothing as it moved around a grassy enclosure, sending the smell of dirt and musk to his nose. Sending wind through his hair with every pass.

He was sitting too close, but it would take too much energy to move now.

But he had no choice. He had to sit this way, live this way. If he lived any other way it hurt far too much. Pain was all his every day life was, now. Perhaps he'd been hit with a real curse, that night so long ago, perhaps not.

Perhaps the only curse that existed was that when he'd finally tried, for the sake of his family and his honor, to be a good man, he'd lost his wife to death and his own life to despair.

And nothing helped. So he allowed himself to be lost to a sea of memory and empty time and he only surfaced when his son needed him most. There were few pleasures left in his mockery of a life, anymore.

His clean, combed hair whipped about his face in a sudden gust of wind and the scent of the one who'd run her fingers over and through it so lovingly filled his senses, shocking his heart into beating again for a fretful second.

There were few pleasures.

Looking out the barn doors, at the paddock and the activity there, she couldn't help thinking of how far she'd come. All the troubles, all the arguments, all the small triumphs...

When Hermione had first gone to Harry and Ginny and told them her plans, they'd been dead against it. Even Ginny's family had understood Hermione's need to get away and leave everything behind more than her two best friends. Of course, most of the Weasleys simply shook their heads and smiled sadly no matter what it was Hermione chose to do, these days. They were too used to her strange behavior to even try and wonder about it, let alone change her mind.

Harry had come around, slowly but surely, as he always had during their school days. Hermione knew what was best for Hermione, he figured, and his stubborn streak of needing to be right about a situation or person had vanished the same night she'd come back into his life; and he'd learned what had happened to her. She would never be the same again, he'd known, and he'd accepted that and any bizarre decisions that came with it.

But Ginny, oh, she hadn't taken it well, not at all. She still didn't like it, though she never brought it up now. Instead, the fact that her best friend had deliberately chosen to give up a life of magic and move to the country in order to raise horses was deliberately ignored. Ginny never asked why she'd done it (she knew that perfectly well) and certainly never brought up that she felt abandoned by the move (Hermione had not invited Ginny to live with her, not that Ginny would have said yes).

She'd tried the abandonment tactic only once, in a fit of desperation and depression and Hermione hadn't spoken to her for a week. It had been a long week for both witches.

So, here she was, nearly six years after that decision had been made, living quietly, raising horses (and a few chickens and two cows), and giving therapy riding lessons once a week to needy children and young adults. She ran the lessons as a volunteer service through a counseling group, since she had more than enough money; first from awards from the Wizengamot and second from the deaths of her parents…and from Ron.

But she tried not to dwell on that. She knew he'd think the money was well spent. She wanted to grow the practice eventually, once she felt more stable, herself, but of course even just five hours left her drained of energy. The children, parents, and guardians who came to take part in the simple classes knew her as Ms. Jeannie Doyle, her regular alias for the last several years; and they knew she'd been in a terrible accident eight years ago. It was all they knew, but it was enough for the group she worked with and the concerned parents. And once she helped their children learn to speak- even if it was only to a horse- or learn to walk again on their own two feet, all questions seemed pointless.

Harry was the one who'd helped her fix the paperwork so that the transition back to the muggle world under an assumed name went smoothly. He'd even placed the wards on the farm for her. He'd nearly asked her once, why horses, and she would have gladly told him if she'd known the answer, herself. But it was only now, years later, that she knew the truth. Once, when she was a little girl, before magic and Hogwarts and new friends and dangerous games, her parents had taken her to a farm, just like the one she ran now. And she'd gotten to pet the horses and feed them carrots and even rode a pony. It had been a perfect day, with her parents speaking to the owners quietly in the background while she'd played with her new friends; and folded her arms about a barn cat that was willing to be pet; and enjoyed the gentle whuffs and nudges of the horse whose coat she was allowed to brush.

She knew now what that day had been about. She'd been ten, nearly eleven, and her magic had been presenting. Worried, her parents had thought that perhaps she should do something with herself- take riding lessons, work with the big, brown eyed creatures. It seemed like a good idea, she recalled her parents saying as they'd discussed the possibilities. And then…nothing. They'd ultimately decided against it and enrolled her in some art course instead, where she'd drawn very poor pictures and made clay pots that looked like coffee mugs instead of beautiful vases. After that, her letter for Hogwarts had come and she didn't see the farm and its beauties again. But once the war was over- really, truly over- the memory of that day had come back to her in bits and pieces and she'd finally answered the yearning in her heart to leave.

There hadn't been much to leave behind, she thought bitterly. She couldn't leave her old friends behind, not truly. Ginny needed her, and because Ginny needed her, Harry ended up needing her. The Weasleys insisted on staying in touch at least through letters and the meal together. So there were some things she couldn't shake- Gringotts still housed some of her money, of course, and she still existed as a witch on record with the ministry. But everything else, the actual practice of magic- spells and potions themselves- she left to others. She hadn't had a wand anymore by the time she'd escaped and she'd never been able to bring herself to buy a new one. Cauldrons, potions ingredients- she gave them all away. Pictures were distributed to friends, old school papers given to Hogwarts. (She had on good authority from McGonagall that they'd been bound and were kept in the library, where many a new student happily plagiarized them.)

The only things she'd kept willingly were the magical books she'd gathered over those seven years, but they remained locked in a trunk in the attic. She saw them twice a year, when she went up to clean. And every time she did, she would sit down, dust rag in hand, and read straight through every single one. It often took her three days, but she felt it was important. Then she would pack them all away again and leave the attic without a second glance.

Ginny or Harry sometimes gave her clippings from the Daily Prophet (really, she didn't know how that paper managed to stay in business), and a regular issue of the Quibbler appeared on her doorstep once a month. She didn't know how Luna had gotten hold of her address, nor did she care. It was touching, in a way, and she usually couldn't help but read that publication from cover to cover. Luna always included a brief letter in its pages. And every very rare once in a while, Fleur or Molly would send her a copy of Witches Weekly, just for kicks, as they put it.

Those were usually tossed. Most of the time. Any other news her friends felt she should be aware of, they told her directly. For all intents and purposes, Hermione Granger lived like a squib- one who preferred the muggle world to the wizarding one, and she liked it that way.

If the wizarding world can tear itself apart like this, she'd told herself eight years ago after tragedy had struck and then kept coming, then I want no part of it. Just being human is painful enough. If they can recover and stop squabbling, finally effect change, then maybe I'll consider going back.

So far it didn't seem like anything had changed. Especially not once she'd heard about the establishment of RATS. At first, she'd been interested. Then she'd been horrified. Finally, she'd felt disgust. So why did I agree to go along with Ginny at all, she asked herself. She'd been asking herself that the last two days straight. Even her explanation to Harry had seemed hollow, though she knew it was the truth. She'd agreed to go because she'd been hurting and because nothing else had worked so far, to ease the ache in her chest and mend the hole in her soul.

She hadn't gone in with a thought to revenge, of course. She, like the cowards of the war before her, hadn't wanted anything at all to do with RATS. Let the wizarding world solve its own ugly messes, she'd said. Even going in with Ginny to inspect the supposed merchandise was abhorrent. But then she'd gotten inside and seen the looks on those men's faces and she'd thought, I know what that feels like. I feel like that every day, inside.

And she'd wondered if maybe the program actually would be good for her, and good for one of the men. After all, though it was now a perverted version of itself, its original aim had been to provide therapy and closure. To help the captured witches and wizards learn to respect and like people of all ilks and eventually rejoin society, once they'd worked off their debts. But the farther they'd gone into the home and the more faces she'd seen, she'd started to realize it was a mistake, that she wasn't cut out for looking after a Death Eater, let alone using the program as some kind of revenge scheme.

Then Malfoy had cursed her and called her those filthy names and she'd felt a flash of rage so real- a feeling she hadn't had in years. When all I want to do is try and help myself and maybe one of them, too, she'd thought. This is how I'm repaid. And that had been that. She'd made a snap decision and signed the papers before her temper could cool off and now she was stuck with them.

Well, not stuck, as Harry had pointed out. She could always return them to the system. But they were here already and Malfoy insisted on continuing to piss her off…she didn't want to break him. She didn't want revenge anymore, which was a relief to know, but she did want him to learn to respect her. After all that happened, after all that she'd gone through, she deserved his respect, at the very least. She didn't ask that he like her- she didn't even know how his father would feel once he finally broke the surface of his mind- but she deserved to be respected.

Now, watching him lead a child's designated horse from its stall, she could see from the hunch of his shoulders that he was as confused as she was. The three of them, together? They were the most pathetic of them all, she thought wryly. They could be their own special club, they were so pathetic.

That didn't even include how sorry a sight Lucius was, all by himself. Staring blankly into space, having his own son take care of him like he was a two year old…she eyed him once more before she took the horse's reins from Draco.

"Thank you, Drake," she said aloud and he narrowed his eyes, but didn't respond. She'd insisted they keep the false names she'd given them in town, earlier. Since there was no way she could keep their presence on the farm a secret from the riders and their parents- not in good conscience, anyway (another fact she should have remembered and mulled over before she'd signed those bloody papers); it was best she give them aliases, too. So, her removed cousins Drake and his father Luke had come to live on the farm with her as they were in need of some relaxation and recovery. Harry was already pushing the paperwork for the farm's new occupants through to the counseling group.

Hermione had been concerned, at first, how the parents would handle the news and she realized full well that the simple newsletter she'd mailed to them all last week about the "changes" happening at the barn would probably not be enough. But most of the parents she'd met with so far that afternoon had surprised her. After all, if anyone understood the need for therapy and rest, it was them; and besides that, Draco and his father had cleaned up quite well, despite being so thin. She'd received many well wishes for the fates of her so-called cousins and a few of the braver children had even interacted with Draco a very little bit.

Draco, whom she'd put the fear of god into. She knew neither man could hurt herself or anyone else- Harry had been sure to put some extra heavy wards and binding spells on them. She was wandless and thus even more defenseless, he'd told her. So, Harry had doubled the normal spells cast upon the prisoners at release.

Even with that knowledge, however, Hermione had lectured Draco well and good about behaving himself, not that she really expected any trouble from him…which was part of why he confused her. Aside from the occasional rude remark or sneer, he'd been an angel the past three days, compared to his childhood.

As for Lucius…one of the children had gone straight up to him and plopped down beside him as he'd sat at the edge of the riding paddock, watching nothing and listening to the pleasant whinnying of the horse on its line. The boy had sat beside the much older man and stared into space with him and the parents had been so pleased that his mother had practically wept.

"He hasn't willingly gone up to another adult in ages," she explained, handkerchief at her eyes. "Not since his break through with you."

The rest of the children seemed to vary between preferring Drake over Luke, depending on their ages and abilities, but none had been frightened by either man. Hermione was immensely comforted by the fact. Of course, once the children seemed happy, the parents relaxed as well. It wasn't until the middle of the afternoon, though, with the clock pushing on towards the last hour of lessons, that she finally dropped her guard and began to have the good time she normally had.

So of course she wasn't prepared for the stiff words she overheard two of the parents having with one another much later. She hovered behind the stall door, in the shadows of the horse she'd been grooming, and listened, wondering if she should wait until they left.

"It worries me," one man said to another. "Ms. Jeannie we know, yeah, but these other two?"

"They seem alright. Come on, she's had help before- extra hands during the summer months, off and on."

"That's different. These men are staying with her."

"They're her cousins."

"Cousins, my arse. Did you see the way that one looked at her? I don't trust him and I don't like it. I've half a mind to report it, pull John from the program."

"Think before you do that- why not talk to her? She's always happy to speak with us about questions and problems."

"Hell, where did she even get her training? She runs this as a charity, for chrissakes. She doesn't need the money or the business. I'm telling you, I don't like-"

"Oh, what, now you're going to start imagining things? We're always here, nothing ever happens. She's the sweetest woman-"

"You know my Susan used the bathroom up at the house once, getting first aid? There were drugs in the cupboard."

"Pain killers. She was in that accident." The other man's voice started to sound uncertain.

"I'm telling you, there's something going on. What sort of woman keeps two grown men at her house when there are children about and doesn't say a word? You've got a boy here, maybe you don't care. But I've got Celia in addition to John and I don't need her picking up any slutty ways-"

The other man protested at the one father's language and Hermione felt her cheeks redden in shame and horror. A mistake- this was all a mistake. She'd been right, she shouldn't have brought the Malfoys here. She was going to lose her reputation, all that hard work to come back to normal society and it was all going to disappear. Never mind the real help she was bringing the children. Never mind she couldn't have any children of her own. She stifled a sob and heard the two men stop.

Worried they'd heard her, she quickly wiped her cheeks and prepared to step out of the stall. She stopped short as she saw what had actually made the men go silent.

Lucius was standing before them, his eyes fixed on the man who'd been speaking out of turn, a look of disgust upon his face. He hadn't said a word, only stared at the man until the father's blood drained from his face and his hands fell to his sides in a gesture of apology.

"So, she's, uh, really your cousin, I guess," the other man said, trying to diffuse the situation. Lucius' eyes flicked to him and he spoke.

It was the voice she remembered from so many years ago. Demanding, proud. Hoarse from lack of use, but it was the same.

"She is and she's a good woman. Not," he said slowly, letting the words roll off his tongue, "a slut. You needn't fear for your daughter's moral character." He smiled as if at a private joke. "Never from this woman, at least. She is the best of wi-" he paused, then finished., "women."

Hermione's eyes were wide. He'd been about to say witches, she'd bet on it, but he'd corrected himself at the last minute. He was speaking in whole sentences and he was defending her honor and reputation by lying for her.

She must be dreaming. Whatever Lucius she'd expected when he'd arrived at her home two days ago, it had not been this one. She was about to step forward when the other man spoke again, taking the one father's arm.

"We understand," he replied. "She is a wonderful girl. Just been through some hard times, like all of us. David here just over reacted, didn't you?" he said, turning to his friend.

David looked very much like he wanted to turn and run the other direction, but he blustered up some courage and nodded.

"It's just a shock, is all," he said. "I'm- I'm sorry I doubted her. But you understand, right? You're a dad, yourself."

At that, the glow in Lucius' eyes began to go out and it was apparent he was remembering something, starting to draw back into himself. He smiled sadly, flicked his eyes over both men one last time.

"A parent would do anything for his child," he murmured. And then he was gone again, though the other man continued to speak. Draco was at his father's side in another second, looking from one man to the other.

"Dad? What…what happened?" he asked as his father didn't respond. "Look, I'm sorry if he said or did anything- he's been like that for-"

"No need to apologize," the other man said. David grunted his agreement. Their wives and a couple other fathers drifted towards the conversation as the more able children helped one another pull off their riding boots and helmets.

Draco got a gleam in his eye and went on. "I told Jeannie she shouldn't bother with us, that we didn't deserve it, but she insisted we come on with her. When she saw the state Dad was in…" he let his voice trail off for effect. The other men nodded sympathetically. "Anyway, we're here now. You let me know if he causes any trouble for you. If either of us makes the parents or children uncomfortable, let us know and we'll be on our way. We don't want to be any trouble to Jeannie. Not after what she's done for us."

The mothers immediately protested and the fathers sheepishly told Draco to buck up. A few even gingerly clapped their hands on Lucius' back. Hermione watched the entire show with great trepidation and finally, once the group had dispersed some and seemed to forget the original point of the gathering, she slid from the stall and made her way to the front of the barn.

She made another little speech to the parents about her new guests on the farm and while there were still a few uneasy tensions, most of the doubts seemed to have been dispelled. As she waved goodbye to the last family, she wished all her problems were so easily solved.

Take two Malfoys and call me in the morning, she thought and immediately grinned. Then she was shaking with laughter and leaning against the barn door for support. Only a few tears slipped out down her cheeks and she was able to catch her breath shortly; before she turned and walked back into the barn to finish cleaning up and seeing to the creatures.

AN: Whew! Long chapter. Sorry for all the continued background and expo, people. I hope you still liked it. :\ We'll be back to our regularly scheduled updates next chapter.