I don't own any of this, STILL, and J.K. holds the rights (along with some other people), and I don't make any money off this fic.

AN: Maybe two or three chapters left? Meh. Welcome to the land of forced plot devices that will speed us towards happy endings and rainbows and fairy dust.

Also, the seconding round for the Dramione Awards over on LJ is drawing to a close, so if you haven't already voted, get over there and vote! The Better Claim was nominated and I'd love to make it to finals. :)

Hermione cried for days. She cried while taking showers, while waking up, while feeding the horses and collecting eggs, while making tea. She cried until she thought she probably wouldn't ever be able to cry again, then cried some more.

And finally, one day she woke up and wasn't crying. Instead, she gazed out her front windows into the yard and sat up slowly to greet the morning sun. Then she swung her legs out of bed, put her feet firmly on the floor, and told herself that she was done with that part of it.

She had things to see to, after all, details to take care of. A barn to rebuild, magic to practice, accounts to oversee. She had to decide what to do with the Malfoys' estate; and what to do about her horses and therapy program. She had to learn how to run a farm all by herself again- and it would take some getting used to. After all, she'd grown accustomed to the Malfoys' help, as well as their faces.

So, with a rueful smile on her face, she decided it was time to move on, even if her heart would never beat the same way without him near. She wasn't a girl of eighteen anymore, and she had seen incredible horrors, endured the most terrible things. She could handle this. Draco, at least, was not dead, even if his father was, and that was something she could take comfort from, and did. She clung to the thought as if it were a lifeline and her only hope that one day things would be different. One day she would wake up and rather than cry, or feel that empty space in her chest, she would feel contentment once more. Even though he was never coming back. He was alive, and that would have to be enough.

And so it was.

Weeks passed, and Ginny spent a great deal of time at the farm, helping with paperwork and the creatures and in turn learning a bit about farm management and rebuilding. Hermione relied on her heavily, though the words never crossed their lips. Ginny was changing, Hermione could see that- her renewed relationship with Harry was good for her, and had brought a smile to her face that Hermione had worried once might be lost forever. Ginny often caught Hermione looking at her, contemplating her with those wise, dark eyes that seemed to her so jaded now; and she though she knew Hermione was finally in her element again- taking charge, running things, bossing workers and horses about; she felt sure there was something vital missing behind it all.

For instance, Ginny thought Hermione was looking positively droopy. Well, perhaps that wasn't the word for it. She was actually looking fairly healthy, all things considered, though Ginny wasn't sure if it was real or aftereffects of the fire. The rosy glow of her cheeks, for example, could just be her still healing skin, the flush of a light fever. The silky curl of her hair could simply be a result of the extra potions she'd been forced to take to recuperate. The supple movement of her body…well, Ginny didn't have one for that. But she knew something was wrong, regardless of how well Hermione looked. It was more than her physical appearance, though she was closer to her old self than Ginny could recall seeing her. It was simply her…aura. If that was the right word. She was smiling and going through all the right motions, as if she was trying to convince more than the outside world that she was alright. As if she was trying to convince herself.

And there was no other word that came to Ginny's mind other than droopy. Like fresh cut flowers that bravely bloomed, but looked slightly wilted about the edges anyhow. As if they know their beauty won't last.

Ginny felt completely morbid thinking about it. There she was, sitting at her best friend's kitchen table, trying to distract her, comfort her, when all she could think of was-

"Hermione? Are you ok?" she asked suddenly. Hermione paused in the midst of her sentence and looked at Ginny strangely.

"I'm fine, Gin. Why? You did ask me that already, you know," she teased and Ginny waved a hand.

"No, I mean, are you really ok?"

"Oh." Hermione sat back. "I see."

Ginny leaned forward. "I don't want to pry Hermione, that's not what I'm here for, but we've been friends so long now and we don't have any secrets. I have to know, Hermione, how you really are."

"Do I look unwell?" Hermione replied primly. Ginny recognized the tight look upon her friend's face, but forged ahead anyhow.

"No, actually," she said. "You look amazingly well, I think. It's nice to see you looking so…"

"Alive? Relieved? Not heartbroken?" Hermione supplied in a wry tone. Ginny flushed.

"Hermione-"

"Ginny, I appreciate the concern, and no, we don't have secrets. So yes, I was in love with Draco and yes, he left anyway, and yes, there are days when I have no idea what I'll do with myself. But I'm alive and I know he is, out there somewhere, and it comforts me…" Her voice trailed off. "And besides, there's nothing I can do about it. So you see? I'm keeping busy and trying to look on the bright side."

"There's a bright side to all this?" Ginny said dryly and Hermione rolled her eyes and looked away. Far, far away.

"There is," she murmured. "For nearly a month I was loved, and loved someone in return. Maybe even two someones, who knows? The feelings fade so quickly, don't they?" she said, though there was no conviction behind the words and both women knew it was a lie. The feelings would never fade, for Hermione. She went on.

"But I did that. I braved it. And he left knowing how I felt, too. I can't-" and her breath caught in her throat momentarily, "-regret anything. Or I'll go crazy," she finished softly.

Ginny eyed her sadly and then reached across to her, putting a hand over hers, holding it.

"That's all I need to know. There. I won't ask about it anymore."

"Thanks," Hermione replied, coming back to herself. "Thank you. And yes, I should talk about it more. I guess I just…it's easier not to, at the moment."

"I understand," Ginny said. There was silence for a moment and then Hermione cleared her throat.

"So, I've been meaning to ask you, how are you enjoying the little one?"

Ginny practically spit her tea out. "Little one?"

Hermione looked at her face and then burst out laughing a minute later. "Ginny, I didn't mean- wait, why did you think…?" Her laughter died swiftly. She had to force the question out. "Are you…starting a family?"

Ginny looked ashamed. "No, no. We aren't yet. We have, though, er…agreed I should move in. Leave my flat entirely. And there may have been some talk of marriage," she said quietly.

"Oh, Ginny, that's wonderful, really. And are you pleased?"

"I am," Ginny murmured and tried to sip her tea again, face matching her hair. Hermione smiled some and patted her on the shoulder.

"Good for you. If you're happy, then I'm thrilled. You and Harry belong together."

Ginny blushed even more and Hermione smiled indulgently, though her eyes were a bit wistful.

"Now, what I really meant was, how do you like your kitten, and is he doing alright?"

Ginny was blank. "Pardon?"

"Your kitten, Ginny. I noticed that I couldn't find one a few weeks ago, right after…well, I couldn't find one and so I asked Harry. He said he'd taken one. And since you're living with him- I was under the impression he'd meant him for you. Is he not there any more? Did Harry take him to the Burrow?"

Ginny began to look confused, in addition to the blankness.

"Hermione, Harry never said anything to me about one. Perhaps he gave him up to someone else? I'll ask him."

Hermione tried to hide her concern and failed miserably. "Would you?" she asked. "It's just that Lucius, well. You know. I want to know the little one is in a good home. I'd always meant Draco to take one, but then with the business with his father…"

"It never happened. I understand, Hermione. And I'll ask Harry about the kitten."

And with that, the conversation turned to safer topics- the horses, the rebuild, the therapy program. But suspicion had wormed its way into Ginny's mind, while Hermione continued to look bravely cheerful as ever.

Ginny asked Harry that very night about the kitten. He didn't give a very satisfactory answer and she pinned him with her best Molly Weasley stare until he left the room. She sighed and crossed her arms. Clearly, getting the truth from him would not be easy.

But she had a feeling it was a truth worth knowing, and one that Hermione probably deserved to hear.

Two days later, as she stood on Hermione's front step, breathless and knocking on her door, she discovered something that she thought might help her get that truth. Hermione ran up to the front door, unlatched it, and promptly turned away and rushed through her bedroom to the loo. Concerned- rather, scared out of her wits, Ginny followed quickly and was in time to catch Hermione's hair up and hold it back as she was sick into the toilet.

She soothed her, rubbed a hand over her back, and held a towel out for her to wipe her face. Hermione sat back minutes later, after flushing the toilet, a light sheen over her still rosy cheeks.

"Hermione, what's this?" Ginny asked. Hermione shook her head and seemed to recover some.

"Oh, just the last day or so. I think it may be the flu," she admitted. Ginny's brow wrinkled.

"Hermione, you're never around anyone from whom you could catch the flu. Oh, dear, I hope it isn't side effects from your injuries. How is your shoulder and that wound-" She followed her question by pulling Hermione's shirt away some and inspecting the areas. Nothing except some light bruising. Perfectly healed.

Next, Ginny put a hand to Hermione's forehead. "Anything else going on? Dizzy spells? Fever? Stomach upset all the time, or just before you vomit?"

Hermione batted Ginny's hand away and started to stand. Ginny helped her up.

"It's nothing, Gin, honest. I just feel a bit queasy and get sick and then I'm alright until next day sometime."

Ginny peered at her sharply as she walked her friend from her bedroom down the hall to the kitchen.

"Next day sometime? When next day? How often?"

"Just once or twice, usually- but I eat plenty later and I'm getting lots of fluids. I think it's just some food My stomach's taken a disliking too. Sometimes that happens later in life. You know that Ginny. It's perfectly normal, and with all the stress I've been under it doesn't surprise me."

Ginny continued to eye her suspiciously. "You're getting sick, but you're gaining weight," she said, giving Hermione a critical look. Hermione paled and set the tea kettle on.

"I noticed that," she admitted. "I hope it's not my thyroids, or something worse. Though I wouldn't be surprised, after all we went through-"

"You're pregnant," Ginny interrupted her, voice both certain and disbelieving.

Hermione started to shake her head. "Oh, no, Ginny…"

"You are." She started to tick the points off on her fingers. "Morning sickness- which can happen anytime, I'm told, weight gain, touchy stomach- and you've had some spotting, I'd bet anything."

"Ginny, it's just stress," Hermione reiterated, not denying Ginny's guess.

"You have to see a healer," Ginny declared.

"I already told you, it's nothing!" Hermione snapped and turned off the burner suddenly. She whirled about to face Ginny. "Is there a reason you're here right now, anyway?"

"Hermione, I'm only trying to help-"

"Damn it, Ginny, you know I can't have children. It's bloody impossible for me to be pregnant right now-"

"Your face healed," Ginny pointed out.

"Only partly," Hermione shot back. "As you can see, perfectly well. And besides that, Draco was neutered as part of the damned program, remember?"

"Magically, with warding," Ginny responded slowly. "So if the wards were removed…"

"He was warded every time we were together," Hermione retorted. "So if you're done humiliating me with this stupid conversation and impossibilities, I'd like you to tell me what in hell you're doing here, now."

Ginny stared at her sadly and Hermione spat, "Please," a second later.

Ginny decided she'd better back off and felt rather awful. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

"I dare say you are," Hermione replied. She crossed her arms, waiting.

"I actually came to tell you that I…just applied for a job yesterday."

Hermione's face changed and she came forward, hugged Ginny cautiously.

"Oh, Gin, that's wonderful. I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks," Ginny said. "Anyway, I didn't get it- it's for a ministry position, in Dad's department- but they offered me an internship instead. One that's likely to turn into a job. It's not much, really, and not what I expected I'd do, but…"

"It's something, Ginny," Hermione said and hugged her again, more genuinely. "More than what you've been doing- and of course it means I'll have to search for more help for the farm now. But this is best for you. I'm so happy for you. Does Harry know about the job?"

"Yeah, he's happy, because he thinks it means we can take lunch together."

Hermione grinned and Ginny giggled, softening the mood.

"Oh, Ginny, did you ask about-"

"The kitten? Yes. He said something vague about it going to a good home. I'm going to try and find out where. But in the meantime, I want you to promise me something, Hermione."

Hermione pulled away and looked resigned. "What's that?"

"You have to go to a healer, please. Even if it's just stress- I don't want to see you make yourself ill."

"Ok, ok," Hermione said. "But I'll only go to a proper doctor. This isn't a magical problem, I'm telling you."

"So long as you go see someone," Ginny murmured and gave her friend another hug, slightly mollified.

For the time being.

Three days later, Hermione sat in a doctor's office, righting her shirt. She felt…strange.

"You're sure?" she breathed.

The woman turned and smiled. When she saw the look of distress on Hermione's face, the smile faded quickly.

"Well…not one hundred percent, you understand. We'll run the blood test. But it looks that way. Nearly two months, I'd say. You seem surprised, Miss Doyle. Is there-"

"Oh, it's just…you see…" But what could Hermione say to the woman? Thanks for telling me that after eight years of smashed hopes and dreams I'm going to have some sort of freak miracle baby by a man who wasn't even supposed to be able to- No. No, absolutely not. She had to stop that train of thought right there, or she'd go as insane as she'd told Ginny she would. Or maybe she already was insane, and this was a hallucination. A delirium.

"Here's the list of prenatal vitamins you need to start taking," the woman was saying, going over what she'd written on a prescription pad. "And you should make sure you get plenty of rest and good, healthy food, of course. And exercise- what is it you do again?"

"Horses," Hermione murmured, completely in shock.

"Oh, well. You'll need to stay off those, I'd say. You'll want someone else to exercise them if they require riding. But other than that, you're set. I'll call you in a few days with the particulars of your test as well, but I expect it to line up with everything else. There you are. All clear, are you? Excellent. I'll see you again soon, I suspect!"

With the cheerful doctor waving goodbye and the receptionist billing her, Hermione managed to keep her head long enough to make it out to the Touareg; where she climbed into the driver's seat, shut the door, and promptly burst into tears. A few people walked past her car and headed into the same doctor's office, giving one another concerned glances after seeing her. She didn't notice any of them, and after a few minutes she decided she felt well enough to take a long drive.

Which was how she ended up parallel parked on a side street just a block away from the telephone booth into the ministry.

Her hands shook as she clenched the wheel of her SUV and she glared down at them, willing them to be still. After another moment of petrifying indecision, she grabbed her handbag and climbed from the vehicle, shut the door and clicked it locked, then started across the street. A few yards from the phone booth she paused and nearly turned back.

But no, she'd come this far- in fact, she either had gone mad, finally, or was really, truly on the road to recovery. Although right now, it felt more like a gangplank. The doctor's words ran through her head over and over, replaced only with visions of pale blond hair shining in bright sunlight and a weary, but strong hand holding her own.

The knowledge that this was it, that she truly was alone, really never would see him again, hit her right in her stomach and she practically doubled over from the ache. Catching herself against the wall of a building, she looked to the skies above, as if she would find an answer there.

Nothing, of course. Single parenthood it was.

Bloody, mother fucking-

"Excuse me, dear, are you alright?" an older woman passing by asked her. Hermione gathered herself and nodded, then thanked the woman and made some vague excuse. The woman tottered away and Hermione laughed softly at herself. This was what she'd come to. Freak miracle babies and old biddies.

Oh, and cats. And don't forget the broken heart and the therapy classes she couldn't give until the new barn was complete and the horses she couldn't ride since she was pregnant with the freak miracle baby.

Hermione laughed again, but it died quickly as she continued towards the phone booth. There was only one thing to do now and that was cry. Copiously. On Harry's or Ginny's shoulders. Either would do, really. And then she would scream a bit, and then go back to the farm and cry and scream some more.

She stepped into the booth and picked up the receiver, pushed the right buttons. A second later, she started to disappear below ground until there was nothing left above but a clearly unoccupied telephone booth.

"Miss Weasley and Miss Granger, Sir-" Harry's aide barely managed to get out before Ginny and Hermione were rushing through the door of his office. Harry took in Ginny's angry, blotchy face and Hermione's sorrowful, blotchy face, and wondered how many appointments he had that afternoon, and if he could cancel them all or not.

"Ginny- Hermione-" he said and waved two seats forward. "What is it? Hermione, you haven't been here since…are you alright? Can I get you something-"

"What you can get her is some information, Harry Potter," Ginny declared and Hermione wiped her cheeks and waved a hand.

"Ginny, this isn't the answer-"

"No, no, please. Tell me. What's the trouble?" Harry said, walking around the front of his desk and crouching before a weepy Hermione.

She looked into Harry's face as if she wasn't sure what to say and Ginny started to speak. Harry shot a look at her and she hushed quickly, but crossed her arms as if to say, try and tell me this isn't all your fault.

"Hermione," he said quietly, "what is it?"

"Oh, Harry," she mumbled. "I…have to know something. About Draco."

His face was immediately guarded, but he nodded at her to go on. A twinge of guilt surfaced in his chest and he prepared himself for what he'd thought she would eventually ask. Draco's information- where was he? That was what she'd want to know, surely, except he wasn't sure he could give it to her, without good reason. Sure, he'd settled things in case of an emergency, but Hermione- though she looked sorrowful enough now- had been doing well since Draco had left. Hadn't she?

She hesitated and he nodded at her again, anxious to know what the trouble was.

"Please," he said again. "Tell me."

"It's just that…you know that he and I…that we…"

Harry gave her a tiny smile. "I figured something was going on, yeah. So what is this about, Hermione?"

"It's…well…" She took a deep breath, pressed onward. She was Hermione Granger, after all. She'd survived this much, she could survive another humiliation, she supposed. Straightening her shoulders some, she wiped at her cheeks again and then finished her question. "I need to know when you lifted the wards on him. For his release."

"The morning I met him outside your house, right before he left," Harry replied instantly, but then started to correct himself. "Wait. That's not entirely true. I removed some the day of the funeral. A lot of the spell casting sustained damage from the fire, since all the wards on your property were heavily tied to one another. And since he was leaving anyway, it made sense to just- wait." He stopped and a strange look came over his face. Ginny could see he was finally putting two and two together.

"Why are you asking?" he said slowly, concern plain on his face.

"Harry," Hermione began, "I have to know. Because I'm…expecting."

"Expecting what? Oh. Expecting." His face drained of color. "Oh, Merlin."

"Yes," Hermione replied. "That's rather how I felt." She went on, trying to be matter-of-fact, and thankful that Harry hadn't immediately jumped for joy, as Ginny had. This was far from a joyous, carefree occasion. It was downright bizarre and she was completely unprepared for it, or for the ache that it had reawakened.

"So I just needed to know that he definitely was…is…you understand?" she continued. "And now it seems there's no question. So, thank you. I'm sorry I barged in on your work this way. I suppose I ought to go now-"

"Wait, Hermione," Harry said, standing up. He began pacing and Ginny and Hermione watched him curiously. He stopped suddenly and looked to them both. "So that's it? You just wanted to be sure and now you'll be on your way? You didn't want to know anything else, like where he is, or what he's-"

"He left, Harry," Hermione said. "My being pregnant doesn't change that."

"It changes everything!" Harry roared, before casting several silencing and privacy spells. "Bloody hell, why didn't I do that before-"

"Harry, what's the matter?"

He faced Hermione again and Ginny felt triumphant. She shot Hermione a look that said I told you so and Hermione frowned at her.

"Hermione, you have to tell him. He has to know."

"He can't come back, Harry!" Hermione cried. "It wouldn't make any difference- this escape, this change, it was for life! You know that as well as I, it was your bloody-"

Harry ran his hands through his hair, exasperated and incredibly upset. "This changes everything," he muttered again.

Hermione shook her head. "It doesn't change-"

"Hermione, listen to me," Harry said, kneeling again. He grabbed her hands. "He can come back. Their name can be cleared. They left you that choice. In fact…" He stopped and looked at her keenly. "Do you want me to pursue it, Hermione? Say the word."

"But Harry, the memories, Zabini-"

"Don't have to enter into it at all. I know a way. I can push it through. They're both dead by ministry standards and it's all in the report about Lucius' injuries sustained helping with the fire- a fire in which you were nearly killed. We put the same thing for Draco. So that's their redemption, easily enough."

"Yes, but Harry they're not-" She stopped dead and her eyes went wide as she processed information. Harry looked at her curiously.

"Hermione?"

"Harry," she began, "you keep saying 'they.'"

Harry realized what he'd done. "Er, we are talking about them both."

"Yes, but…"

"I knew it!" Ginny exclaimed, watching their reactions closely. "He's alive, isn't he? You sent the kitten off with him."

Harry looked extremely guilty and Hermione felt her eyes well with tears. She was suddenly having trouble breathing.

"Harry-"

"I had to, Hermione, Ginny. Look, I'm sorry, but I won't apologize for it. I promised them I'd help them with whatever their decision. And I swear to you, Hermione, it really was touch and go with Lucius there, for a while, even after we moved him. But it was their decision. Lucius thought it would be easier for you to accept their leaving if he really was dead to you-"

"Easier?" Hermione repeated. "Easier?" She felt herself growing madder by the second. It bolstered her, somehow. Gave her energy to feel and act. "Lucius, alive…I can't even…that was hell, Harry Potter. I hated myself! I grieved for him. And you know what else? Fine, go ahead and clear them with your new, better, cleverer way. I don't care! You can tell Draco Malfoy all about all this and I still wouldn't care what he thinks! Since the lot of you are apparently determined to do whatever you think is best without caring how I feel about it!"

She stood up and stalked to the door, leaving a stunned Harry behind her. She paused, her hand on the door knob.

"Go on," she hissed. "Tell him about it all. I don't care if he comes back, or not. It doesn't matter to me one bit!" she finished angrily before yanking the door open and stomping outside.

Harry stared after her and finally remembered Ginny. He looked down at her and gestured at the door.

"Aren't you going after her?"

She shook her head, her triumph of a minute before lost. "I have to get back to my job- she knows that. Besides," she continued more slowly, "she'll want to be alone right now. I know her well enough to see that. All she wants right now are her horses. I'll call her after work to check in on her. You should talk to her then, too."

He gave Ginny a pained look and knelt beside her chair next. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you any of this," he murmured. "I don't blame you, or her, for being angry."

Ginny shook her head. "Harry, I was more upset that Hermione didn't know anything. She deserved the truth. Lucius should have known better."

Harry gave a sigh and stood again, drawing Ginny from her chair. His hands were shaking and his face was troubled. She lay her head against his chest, put her hand over his heart. Both their thoughts were upon Hermione and her situation.

"Yeah," Harry admitted after a long moment, though the anguish on Hermione's face wouldn't leave his mind. "But we'll figure something out now."

Ginny pulled back some from his embrace. "You mean you'll figure something out."

Harry sighed again. "I'll figure something out," he agreed. Thank Merlin he'd settled things the way he had. Perhaps now Zabini could be of proper use.

Harry swept into the minister's office the very next day and slapped a piece of paper down on the man's desk. The minister glanced up at him, startled, then eyed the paper warily. While they were all used to the Head Auror having his way with just about anything he pleased, he was cautious when signing things. He picked up the paper, inspected it.

"I take it you want my signature?"

"And your seal," Harry said.

"What is it for?"

Harry looked at him expectantly as if to say, you have eyes. You're not illiterate. The minister gave him an abashed look and glanced over the paper again. His eyes brightened.

"This is interesting."

"It should be," Harry said. "The full report was on your desk by close of business yesterday. I rather thought I'd sent a memo then preparing you for this. Because you do intend to sign it, don't you?"

The minister hesitated. "This is unusual, Harry, you must admit-"

"Codswallop," Harry said. The minister goggled. Harry tapped the paper impatiently with his wand. "Well? I'd like to get this rather mundane piece of business taken care of sooner than later. We do have actual dark wizards to attend to, after all."

"But, Harry…didn't they sign their estate over to Miss Granger?"

Harry eyed him as if to say, so you read the papers. Congratulations. The minister swallowed and reread the sheet.

"What is the purpose of a full pardon, in that case? With their estate gone, in competent hands, and the last of their immediate family line buried…"

"For honor," Harry said seriously, no longer impatient, or surly. He drew himself up to his full height, and with one look reminded the minister exactly why he was Head Auror.

"Or doesn't that mean anything in this place any longer?" he added coldly. The minister broke into a sweat and hurriedly began signing the paper, then reached for his official stamp.

"It's still highly unusual," the minister protested weakly. "Both dead, money gone, not even worth a proper trial-"

Harry snatched the paper back before the ink was even dry and the minister cowered back. The Head Auror was suddenly all smiles, once again.

"I was hoping you'd see it that way, Minister," he said. Then he bowed deeply and swept from the room, holding the pardon for the Malfoys before him almost reverently.

The minister gave a long sigh and then daubed the corner of one sleeve along his brow. Honestly, the man was brilliant- the best Head Auror since Shacklebolt- but he was downright intimidating at times. But of course, that was why he was the youngest to hold the position in several decades.

Brilliant, but scary.

AN: See what I did thar? *winkwinkwink*