CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Within the Hallway of Lost Opportunities

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Ginny Weasley sat at a coffee shop across from the train station, waiting for Harry to hurry back from whatever errand Dumbledore had sent him on. She had kindly been asked to stay behind. She sipped her latte in peace and tapped her foot along to the music from the overhead speakers, looking out at nothing in particular. She went to flip her long, red hair up over her shoulder when she caught a few words in a headline.

It took her a second to piece the sentence together: "Ministry of Magic undergoes coup d'état!"

She reached over to the next table, to a pointy-nosed witch with glasses, and snatched the paper from her hands. "May I borrow this?" Ginny asked hurriedly, not waiting for a response. The witch seemed annoyed but, upon seeing Ginny's face, quickly let it go.

Harry caught up with her just then and sat down right in front of her, completely out of breath. "Sorry , dear," he said. "It's happening."

She read over the article silently. Twice.

"Sweetheart, didn't you hear me?" he droned again in the background. She ignored him and pulled something out of her jacket pocket. She handed it to him and leaned in.

"Listen to me, Harry. We've got a situation on our hands. We knew the Ministry was going to happen but we have something I've been holding on, a secret you need to know."

He raised both eyebrows and leaned in as well, taking a look around the area to make sure they were as alone as they were going to get in time of war. "You're scaring me, you know."

She chuckled humorlessly. "I know." She placed the wrinkled, bloody note in his hand and continued, "This was with Hermione's clothes when she arrived at St. Mungo's. I held onto it so they wouldn't discover it but it wasn't my place and with Hermione suddenly disappearing into nowhere, it's our job to make sure it gets to the right hands."

He nodded. "Uhm… OK. To whom?"

"You said Dumbledore was in hiding because of everything that's going on. Who's taken charge of Hogwarts?"

"McGonagall."

She sighed with relief and nodded. Fantastic news. It was someone they could trust. They heard the call of the train in the distance. The Express. They'd be taken home soon. To Hogwarts. To where, according to Dennis Milgrahm's note, the new Ministry was going to attack next.

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Hermione didn't like having to stare into Snape's ungodly eyes for so long but, if it meant she'd master Occlumency all the quicker, she'd bloody well do it. It felt like a week had passed since she left St. Mungo's barefoot and war-worn. It was hard to tell time inside Malfoy Manor. Like a great labyrinth, it held too many secrets and not enough working clocks.

At least, not in whatever secret section they now occupied.

She'd been given her own room right next to Snape's. As Draco's mate, she felt more at home there than possibly her own bed back in London. She felt a connection to it she couldn't place, one too strong to hide with brainwashing and blur away with the distance.

At night, she'd fall asleep comfortably. The wolf would be there in a corner, watching over her. She knew it was Draco and stayed away, as Snape had instructed. If Draco was looking in, so was Voldemort. She'd sit quietly in the darkness and try not to think about anything important. When she felt the warmth of sunlight through her window, she'd tell the wolf she loved him and open her eyes to the new day, sure that he understood and would wait for her rescue among the other wolves just beyond the darkness.

Snape was called away one night to deal with some uprising. It was all she could hear from the whispers in the fireplace from across the room. When he saw her standing there, he quickly sent her off. She'd never been just sent off to wander the manor. She was afraid she'd get lost and, within moments, she was.

She knew not to call out. The manor was more or less abandoned but it was not free of booby traps here and there, meant to warn out the casual intruder. She thought if she got lost long enough, she'd eventually stumble into that room, the nursery no one dared claim as their own.

She knew she was close when she found her wand on the floor before a grand archway. It felt strange in her hand, now so used to Draco's wand. She closed her eyes, held her wand tightly to her chest, and wandered forward to the yellowed hallway of flying bits of paper and ash.

It hadn't changed. She could remember every detail of it. The way the bits of paper floated down like snowflakes made her feel like time had stilled. It also made her deathly anxious because, for the last few days, weeks, or whatever the outside equivalent of time was, she had thought of nothing but getting back to Draco.

This was the first time she'd ever thought that maybe there was no return.

She had no way to go back, no idea what part of the Manor she was in, or who was on the other side of those walls. So she kept going, following bits of her curiosity that threatened to make her even more lost. She knew Draco wouldn't be there to find her this time. She gripped her wand tighter than she should and walked inside.

The longer she lingered in the hallway, the more it began to change, more details began to unravel before her eyes. It was as though the fire were still spreading, still burning, even though she couldn't see it, only its damage.

It's enchanted, she thought. I can feel it. The air is heavy and stale.

The Death Eater in her head agreed and warned her to back away. She ignored it because she knew it wasn't Draco. He was gone.

She followed the bits of flying paper to their source, the nursery near the stained glass window in the end. She stood at the wide open doorway. The fire began near the window. Instantly, the glass shattered and she heard the sound of something hitting the floor. She didn't move. It wasn't real. It was just a mirage, a ghost trapped in a space and put on repeat.

Whatever charm had caused it to still as it had, it had captured the events and the fire. That meant it was probably an intentional, enchanted fire.

Who would want to kill a baby that way?

Someone trying to send the parents a message.

She took another step in and the crying began. She heard fabric sizzle, and then the heat hit her face. She raised her wand but it was too late. Her hair was singed by an invisible assailant.

"That's enough!" she screamed at no one in particular. She was tired of fighting air. "Temper siatos!"

A gust of wind blew away the glamour and the scene trapped in time began from the beginning.

The fire disappeared. There was only the nursery, large with the crib in the middle. It wasn't a regular crib like Hermione saw in her parents' attic. It was a similar size but the carvings on that thing would make Michelangelo weep with envy. It seemed to be made of the most perfect white marble she had ever seen, with snakes for bars and legs.

A tulle tent hung overhead, with sterling silver toys hanging from the top. The baby inside had to be a few months old and nothing more. It was dressed in blue baby robes with moons embroidered in silver string. His hair was white blond, his eyes gray.

And she knew then, without a doubt, that she was looking into the eyes of baby Draco.

She laughed and tried not to cry. He was so beautiful, so tiny, so innocent. The window broke again and the ghosts began to play. It was a rock bathed in yellow fire, a catalyst. She'd studied that spell in History of Magic. It was invented during the First War to create walls of fire that would ward off enemies but not burn one's soldiers.

It was fire wrapped around a stone and controlled by someone with a sister stone. Someone did it deliberately. This time, she was sure.

In a few moments, the heat of the fire was everywhere and the baby began to cry. Alarms sounded everywhere. A nanny elf came running immediately, saw the fire, and screamed. She ran and got both Lucius and Narcissa. Hermione gasped at their young faces.

Even Narcissa, who knew every youth spell on Earth, had aged so much in so few years. The war had reached her in more ways than one but she was still beautiful. And terrified. Lucius was cold as ever. His eyes showed alert but it was almost as thought he knew it was coming. They both ran about, trying to drown the flames with magic but finding themselves unable.

Narcissa yelled something out to the archway, pointed her wand to the sky, and the flames froze. Everything froze.

She ran through the wreckage to the middle of the room, to the marble crib where Draco continued to cry. Lucius scowled from the doorway, immoveable. Not even to save his son. Hermione could more or less see his thinking process. If this child died, he'd count it as a sacrifice in the name of the Dark Lord. Then he'd just have another one. Children were probably as expendable to him as a new coat, only more fun to conceive.

Narcissa was and would always be the only one in tears.

The ghost of her slapped the ghost of him and rushed down the hall with her child. Lucius continued to stare into the frozen room as though looking for something or someone. His flickering image took a step in, wand raised and poised to attack. Hermione moved off to the wall, sensing the danger he felt. It was the true ghost in the air, a malevolent spirit.

"Step out!" hissed Lucius. "I know you're there, Halton!"

A wizard dressed in black stepped out from under an invisibility cloak. "You had it coming, Malfoy," said Halton.

"You messed with my CHILD! I have always made my allegiances known. The Dark Lord knows I would never—"

Halton pulled out his own wand, looking bored but ever so slightly alert. He knew this was the end. He was just the messenger. Hermione knew what was coming and so, closed her eyes. She still heard the words, the deathly spells flying through the air like broken promises, followed by the body on the floor.

She opened her eyes, knowing all too well who had lived. The room was once again raining bits of paper and she realized by the scorch mark on the far left wall that Halton had hit the baby books on the shelves, sending them asunder.

The scene stopped playing and Hermione was back in the nursery. She sighed in hopes that it would calm her tremors and slid down the wall. She pulled up her wand again and restarted the room's memory. She froze it before the rock crashed through the window and, a few minutes later, walked up to the crib. She moved the chair near the window closer to the baby and leaned her cheek against the cold marble.

She watched the frozen image of the memory for some time, fighting the urge to cry. At some point, she began to sing to him, allowing herself to believe she was once again reunited with the last good bit of Draco left in the world.

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Harry and Ron paced in front of the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Apparently, Ginny wanted to speak to McGonagall in private, which made absolutely no sense to her hoard of protectors. Ron looked at Harry with a furrowed brow as they passed by each other.

"Did she tell you anything else?" growled Ron.

Harry shook his head. "She just showed me the note from Milgrahm and we decided we had to come to McGonagall and tell her what's going on and that Hermione's missing and Malfoy's back with the Death Eaters, though she probably knows that one, and well… that's about it."

Ron's eyes turned big as saucers. "Nothing else? Nothing to explain why she might be up there?"

Harry gulped and moved them towards the wall for support. He had no way of knowing how Ron might react. Softly, he began, "Ron, you know how I've been meeting with Dumbledore a lot?"

Ron nodded, trying to connect the invisible dots.

"He's been… err, trying to pass on his knowledge before—"

"Before what?"

Harry gulped and gave it a moment for absolute absorption. "He's dying, Ron."

Another moment passed. "Whoa."

Harry snorted. "Yes, Ron. That would be how you'd react."

He went to elaborate when Ginny appeared before them, her fear tear-stained but victorious nonetheless. "Let's go!" she shouted, her usual cheery self breaking past recent events.

"Go where?" the boys asked in unison.

She smirked devilishly. "To class, of course. McGonagall's got it covered for once. At last, an administrator not controlled by prophecies and the belief that kids can take care of themselves. I have no idea how this school hasn't been invaded before."

They followed after her, astounded. Harry caught up and wrapped his arm around her waist, as natural a gesture as breathing. He pulled her aside and shoved her into a nearby classroom, locking Ron outside. He pounded on the door outside as the couple talked.

"Talk to me, Gin," he asked seriously. She smiled, falsely. He saw right through it. He lifted her by the waist and sat her on a desk. He sat down beside her and took her hand. "Did she really say we should go back to class?"

She nodded. "They had no idea Hogwarts was the target. They always assume they want to get to you but this is the safest place on Earth. You'd have to be an idiot to attack you here."

"The day written on the paper, we're scheduled to be at Hogsmeade. Do you think they'll attack there? What if they're not after me?" he asked, a tiny bit of hope in his voice. He quickly controlled himself. Harry knew not to allow himself to hope. It was only recently he even allowed himself to love. After the moment passed, the reality set in. They were after something besides him, which meant the big battle hadn't yet arrived. They were after something inside Hogwarts.

And someone inside Hogwarts had to let them in.

"Why can't we tell Ron?" he asked.

"McGonagall said no one. I told you because, well, you're you and I… Uhm… I—"

He put his arm over her shoulder and slid her closer on the desktop. He scoffed and whispered into her hair, "I love you too. No matter what happens."

She nodded. "You know what they're after, don't you?"

He shrugged. "They've got one half of the perfect weapon," said Ginny. "They think we have the other half, Harry. Mates. They're after Hermione and they don't want us to know."

He raked his fingers through his hair and exhaled every shred of hope he had accumulated. It was no better that Hermione might be the target. He didn't wish his life on anybody, but it seemed she had walked into it all by herself.

"We have to protect her."

"We don't know where she is."

"But Draco would, wouldn't he?" said Harry, jumping off the desk to look at Ginny face to face. Ron knocked quickly on the door outside, shouting about having his feelings hurt and that they best not be making out. The epiphany was clear in Harry's eyes. He ignored all the other sounds around him and locked gazes with Ginny.

She didn't need to say it out loud because they could read it in each other's eyes, in a way only Draco and Hermione could best. Still, she said it. "If Draco is really her mate, he can sense where she is anywhere in the world. If she's really the target, they might not come here after all."

"Unless…" added Harry cautiously, "Draco isn't really working with them. If they're on their way here, at least we know we've still got a man on the inside."

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So now you know! The note had a date that the Death Eaters would be attacking Hogwarts. Whether it's a decoy or real is yet to be revealed. If I were McGonagall, I wouldn't buy the word of a turncoat so easily. The important thing is that the kids will not be responsible for stopping them. That'd just be silly. For one, Ron's wand still keeps imploding from time to time. Uhm, awesome, sexy reunion coming up next chapter. I apologize for the delay. Blame the boyfriend. Love to you all.