Flash forward:

He loomed over her, he looked every bit as deadly as McGonagall had said. He was so tall and broad-shouldered. Swathed in a thick back cloak with metal plates at his chest and arms. His hands were gloved in dragon hide leather. In his hand was a long black wand, twisted and crooked. On his face was a thick engraved mask, it was covered in swirls and some written language that Hermione didn't recognise. She scooted back as far as she could, pressing herself against the hallway door, she kept Claudie clutched to her chest and Ptolemy tucked behind her back, his chubby little arms around her neck. She didn't have to look at him to know that he was terrified. She could feel him trembling. The High Protector would kill them all, she had no doubt. She looked up at him, fighting the terror that was engulfing her. Her voice was much stronger than she felt.

"Please don't hurt them, they are innocent, they have nobody." She could feel herself shaking, but she was ready to die for these children. The High Protector just stared down at them. She could just about see his eyes underneath the mask, grey eyes glinted through the ornate mask.

Ptolemy was crying aloud now, he came around the side of her, tucking his face into her curls. She reached her arm around the back of him and pulled him to her lap next to Claudie. Ptolemy didn't take his eyes off the High Protector.

Hermione was totally frozen, her whole body tensed and waiting for what was going to happen. Time stood still. Slowly, he brought his hands up to his face, he held his wand tip to the chin of the mask and it glowed blue and then fell into his open hand. Hermione gasped. All colour drained from her face. Malfoy. Draco Malfoy was the High Protector. How was this possible?

"B-but you, you can't be him."

He slipped the mask somewhere into his cloak.

"Nice to see you too Mudblood. Now I know that the floor is the obvious place for your kind, but I want you on your feet…for now." He snarled down at her.

She didn't move, couldn't move. Ptolemy's little sniffs filled the heavy silence.

"Get up, you are going to hand those over," he stared pointedly at Ptolemy. Hermione felt her chest swell with rage.

"Not a chance in hell Malfoy." She stared up at him.

"There's that Gryffindor stupidity, it's like you want those brats to get hurt." He growled.

Her courage left her, "Malfoy please, you wouldn't do this, no matter what you are now, you wouldn't hurt little children! They are innocent, please let me stay with them."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, and he looked down at the tiny bundle in Hermione's arms, he could see the baby's little pink cheeks and tiny fingernails. The little boy with huge blue eyes had grubby tear tracks down his face.

Hermione watched as Malfoy's fists clenched at his sides. His mouth set in a hard line.

"Please Malfoy, don't hurt them. I will do anything, do whatever you want to me, please don't hurt them." She begged.

His eyes darkened, as he looked down at her.

"Anything Mudblood? You would do anything? Are you sure about that?"

Present day

It was the loud hoot of an owl which pulled Hermione from her fitful sleep. She sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes, her unruly hair flew up with her surrounding her small heart-shaped face like a lion's mane. She pushed the heavy burgundy bedding back from herself and got off the bed, gasping as her feet hit the freezing cold floor.

Another impatient hoot sounded along with a clatter of a beak against the glass of the window.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Hermione's voice was still gravelly from sleep.

The bright winter sunshine was blinding, she pushed the huge window open whilst shading her golden eyes.

"Hi Hedwig" She ruffled the top of Hedwig's head affectionately; she was so beautiful. More importantly, she was so reliable. Hedwig was currently the only way that Hermione could contact the order. Communicating with Harry and the others had become much harder lately. But then everything had been much harder lately. She unrolled the scroll of cream parchment, at first glance it was just an empty roll of parchment, and then she tapped it with her wand,

"DM is a greasy ferret". She smiled as the parchment filled with Harry's scrawled handwriting. She had to admit that Fred and George's products were fabulous, she was starting to think that the twins alone could win this war with their extravagant pranking goods. The password being about Malfoy always made her laugh. A vision of Malfoy's haughty face swam into her mind. His face was always the picture of superiority and contempt. Her brow furrowed, Malfoy had been missing for a couple of years, and they still had no idea where he was. They had tried to find out what he was doing, but nobody had seen him since the first couple of battles. Word had it that Lucius had sent Draco to Romania to stay with family after he had a breakdown. However, due to the fact that this intel had come from Mundungus, Hermione didn't fully believe it. Draco was a Death Eater. The dark lord would want him where he could control him. Use him. A soft nuzzle from Hedwig brought Hermione's focus back to the task at hand. She read Harry's letter.

"Hermione, we desperately need more Veritiserum, Dittany, Murtlap and Felix Felicis. We need everything to be honest. Things are desperate. It's getting worse. How fast do you think you can brew these? I trust that the greenhouses are charmed to deal with the harsh weather that's coming. There will be two more children coming to you at the end of the week, would it be possible to have what we need then? The children are a two-year-old boy and a six-week-old baby girl. The baby girl has been quite unwell and needs a very quiet place to recover, her eardrums were perforated during a battle and she is still very fragile despite our healing attempts. She will do much better with you. I know it's a lot to ask, but we still haven't been able to arrange a second safe house. We just don't have the numbers. We are starting to run out of food and Pomfrey is struggling to deal with the number of injuries. Molly has become ill, so we are training up the Creevy's to cook. It's been a nightmare; I'm starting to think that their cooking will kill us before the Death Eaters get a chance. Ron isn't doing well with the new food situation, he's hungry and thumping around like a bog troll with a sore head. Could you bake some loaves and anything else you can think of to give us when we do the transfer? I have some of the books you requested too. How is your healing coming on? I hope you are doing what you said you would. Are the children doing ok? Send your reply with Hedwig. Give my best to McGonagall and Padma. We will meet Friday, Godric willing. I will confirm with my reply to your next letter.

Love Harry"

Hermione tapped the parchment with her wand and watched as Harry's writing disappeared. She placed it in the top drawer of her dressing table with all the others. Going over to the window she looked over the gardens below towards the sea. She sighed and rested her head against the thick wooden window ledge. She was still being kept in the dark it would seem, she clearly hadn't earned the order's trust back yet, despite what they claimed. The two extra children would be hard too, with them being so young. McGonagall was dead on her feet already; Padma was great but there was only so much she could do. Hermione had asked for another pair of hands at the safe house, the request had been denied by Moody though. Hermione didn't think that Moody knew how hard it was doing the research, brewing endless potions and replenishing supplies whilst also being the guardian of twenty-eight soon-to-be thirty orphaned children. She didn't resent her place, she adored the children and working with Padma and McGonagall, but Godric it was hard. They all took turns doing the night watch. Ensuring the children were ok, reinforcing the safety charms and wards, and patrolling the house whilst simultaneously brewing potions. Lifting her head, she looked back out over the gardens. Savouring the peace. The calm before the storm. Hedwig nuzzled her cheek and playfully caught one of her curls in her beak. Hermione leaned into the bird's affections and giggled. Movement caught the corner of her eye and her head snapped back to the view of the gardens. The tree line was clear. Her eyes narrowed; she could have sworn she had seen someone in a black cloak just by the trees. She stared intently but could see nothing. Her rational side knew that nobody could be there, the house couldn't be found. Not even the Order could find it. She probably needed more sleep.

Grabbing some parchment, she quickly scribbled her reply. Concealing the message with the charm Fred and George had set she attached it to Hedwig's leg. Grabbing a dried date from the side of her bed, she passed it to Hedwig who munched it down quickly.

"Will you take this to Harry sweet girl?" Hedwig shrieked her consent. Hermione opened the large wooden window and watched as

Hedwig took off into the white sunlight. Soaring high in the sky and out of sight.

Closing the window, Hermione grabbed her black velvet ribbon from the dresser and piled her riotous curls on top of her head. With a quick cleansing charm on her face and teeth, she dressed in a long burgundy woollen dress and her black suede knee-high boots. She reached her arms over her head and took a deep full body stretch. She felt each of her muscles contracting and relished the feel of it. A cry across the landing put a halt to her stretching routine. And so, the day begins, she thought, as she strode from the room.

The morning was hectic, breakfast, cleaning up after breakfast, learning, lunch, cleaning up after lunch. She had only managed to squeeze in an hour of brewing. She would need to work through the night to get as much done as possible. She grabbed a small wicker basket and made her way through the orangery; the Orangery was stunning. It was the heart of the house, even on the coldest days. The children were all in their having their afternoon naps. Bundled up on cushions with blankets and their various stuffed toys. Some of them held hands as they slept. Little snores and whimpers disturbed the quiet. McGonagall snoozed in a high-backed chair with Crookshanks on her lap, she was exhausted, the book that she had been reading to the children had tumbled to her feet. She grabbed a small wicker basket and made her way through the orangery to the gardens. The gardens were stunning, bewitched to maintain themselves, long tree-lined winding paths met perfectly manicured lawns. Huge, gnarled oak trees surrounded the house. The sturdy trees made her feel safe. Ever since she was a child, camping with her parents in the woodlands, she had always stared up at the highest branches in awe. She really believed that trees were sentient, that they contained pure souls. Her Dad had always believed the same. Her eyes prickled at the thought of her parents. She approached the greenhouse. A Victorian contraption which had been magically enhanced to be larger. It was white metal and glass with a roof that opened during hot weather. She walked in and picked up her little golden scissors. She began to prune the plants that she needed for the potions required. She loved the smell of the greenhouse. It made her feel calm and most importantly just as when she was brewing potions, or playing with the children, she felt peace. It stopped the flashbacks for a little while and dulled the pain in her heart. She stayed in the greenhouse for a couple of hours, collecting everything that she needed. As she walked back towards the main house, she looked up at the sky, now a dull white, her dark golden eyes widened as it began to snow. Large fluffy flakes landed on her outstretched hand. The children would love to play in this tomorrow. Just before she entered the house, she re-cast the protective charms. As she always did.

Upon entering the house, it was apparent that all hell had broken loose. McGonagall was somehow still fast asleep, but her face was bright blue, smurf blue. Padma was covered in flour and eggs and at least three kids were screaming bloody murder.

"What is all this noise?! Who turned Professor McGonagall's face blue? Line up immediately!"

Hermione shouted shrilly.

The children all immediately stopped. Her natural assertiveness was well received by them, and they usually did as she said.

Once the children were lined up, she told them what to do.

"You three, "She pointed at the eldest three who were in their early teens, you will go and help Padma with dinner, and you will do as she says or nobody will eat."

The three girls followed Padma.

"The rest of you will clean up this mess. Cushions away, toys away and sweep up all those feathers. If you destroy any more cushions they will be confiscated, and you shall all sit on the floor". A loud bang sounded from behind her and she flinched, she spun around and saw that it was just one of the smaller children closing the lid to the grand piano.

McGonagall woke up to the sound and jumped out of her seat, her glasses perched lopsidedly on her blue nose, "Miss Granger, I must have dozed off, forgive me. I can take over. You go off and work on Potter's request, Godric be good, there's a lot to do. Padma and I will sort the children and bake some bread for their supplies. And Granger, make sure you eat something, you are looking very thin dear."

Hermione smiled back in agreement and walked off. She just didn't have the heart to tell her that her face was bright blue.

By two in the morning, Hermione had counted fifty bottles of dittany, twenty of Felix Felicis and forty bottles of Veritiserum. Numerous poultices of Murtlap. She put it all together. That would have to do. She checked the kitchen and Padma and McGonagall had baked too many loaves to count. There were biscuits, cakes, and blocks of homemade cheese, all had stasis charms on them so they would stay fresh. She would also gather some fruit and vegetables from the greenhouse for them tomorrow. They needed to go careful with their supplies. It wasn't easy feeding all these children. Hermione hadn't ever been around small children. She was naturally maternal, but the level of care they all needed was something she had never even considered. She made her way through the house. A last patrol before bed. She had a couple of days before two more children arrived, one of which would need feeding through the night and possibly further healing. They would have to work out a schedule. She really wished that Moody would send someone else to help, he was so out of his depth when dealing with anything to do with small children though.

Moody seemed to think that the children just needed feeding and to be kept safe, but that wasn't the case. They needed to be stimulated, educated, protected, entertained and most of all loved. Many of them were traumatised. McGonagall and Padma had originally been here but

with half the number of children. The children were war orphans. Their families were gone. Hogwarts had been taken over, and whilst the castle naturally defied the Death Eaters, it couldn't keep them out. All children had originally returned to their parents, however, as the war progressed more and more people died their children had to be cared for. They had had groups of children at different places such as the Burrow and Grimauld Place, but it just wasn't workable. Those places were safe from the Death Eaters but were still not suitable for children. This house had originally been Dumbledore's. Hagrid had said he thought he won the house in the pub one evening. Hermione couldn't imagine Dumbledore in a pub with Hagrid, but then again, Dumbledore had always surprised everyone. He had left the house to the Order, with McGonagall to be the chief charge. The house was huge, an old stately home in the highlands of Scotland. As far North as possibly possible. It looked out onto an inky lake, surrounded by forest on one side and the coast on the other. It had been dusty and dilapidated, and they had worked hard to do the place up and to make it home for them all. The top floor was an attic with a star gazing tower, it held a lot of Dumbledore's belongings and books, and it was one of Hermione's favourite places to spend any spare time that she had. The floor below consisted of bedrooms and bathrooms. Too many bedrooms to count. They all slept on this floor, the children were in two large bedrooms in wooden bunk beds, with soft squishy mattresses that were charmed with the smell of oats and lavender. The beds were covered in thick tartan blankets and every child had a stuffed animal toy that they had specifically requested. Bewitched orbs of light floated around the ceiling, lulling the children to sleep. Sometimes, when she was patrolling at night, Hermione would go into the children's bedrooms and listen to their little snores. Checking that they were all ok. She had caught both McGonagall and Padma doing the same. She knew it was more than checking on them. Seeing them asleep, with their innocent faces made it feel as though there was no war, no Voldemort, no death. It was as if the children were an anchor. An anchor to before, or even the future. Just a time when things weren't dangerous. Watching them sleep, feeling their peaceful energy was soothing, like a balm. While sleep often evaded her, she wanted to ensure that the children at least were able to sleep peacefully. She walked back downstairs.

The ground level was an old study/library wood panelled, with charmed floating candles, and old books from the floor to the ceiling. The library was another of Hermione's favourite spots. Next was a huge kitchen, farmhouse style with cream cupboards and wooden sideboards and an ancient aga that was extremely unpredictable and seemed to have a mind of its own. McGonagall had nicknamed it Peeves. The thought of Peeves made her smile, she hoped he was giving the Death Eaters hell. The dining room was exquisite, with deep plum fabric flock wallpaper, parquet flooring and a monster fireplace. There had originally been one long eighteen-seater dining table but that had been transfigured into four smaller tables, mealtimes were staggered so that all the children had plenty of space and time to eat and to enable Hermione, McGonagall, and Padma to stay sane. The orangery was magical at night, and it joined onto a sitting room with deep-seated burgundy sofas and tartan armchairs. The fireplace in the main sitting room was the largest and the only one that had previously been connected to the floo system, though not any longer. The house was too large really. Every time she thought she had been into all of the rooms she would discover another one or a wall that moves and reveals a dark staircase that leads to some little turret or bedroom. It was very peaceful. It was also safe, the safest of all the safe houses. There were so many protective charms that the place was pretty much impenetrable. They had even charmed all of the maps to make it look as though the area was just water with the ruins of a lighthouse which sat next to a sewage drain. It was a nifty bit of magic. She and McGonagall had scoured every old book on protective magic that they could find at the start of the war, determined to keep the children from the death eaters. Voldemort wanted all orphaned children, they weren't sure what for, but they guessed to brainwash them and raise them to do his foul work. Voldemort was hidden, he had been for months. Harry had said that he could feel that he had become weaker. They were all sure that he would die soon. The problem was that Voldemort had his second in command, his High Protector. The High Protector's identity was unknown. Hermione had never seen him, but the others had. McGonagall told her that when she had briefly battled him, she could feel him, really feel him. He felt like a Dementor. His energy was like ice-cold fingers around your throat, restricting your breath, she had pushed him back by casting complex fire spells, but it didn't stop him. He had advanced toward her and was only halted by a collective shield charm. It had taken five of them to hold him back so McGonagall could get the port key in place. It had been George using one of his flub gum nets which had given all of them the chance to grab the port key and leave. The flub gum nets were a creation of the twins. It was a small black jelly disc that when you threw it and expanded with your wand would become gelatinous and gooey as it nets the person it lands on and prevents them from casting any spells. They don't last long, forty-five seconds at most, but that cheeky joke product had saved all their lives. Hermione doubted that the High Protector or any of the Death Eaters for that matter, would fall for a flub gum net again though. McGonagall had kissed Fred's cheek that night much to his embarrassment. They all felt like kissing the pair of them. The High Protector had truly terrified McGonagall who felt that whoever he was, he was as dangerous as Voldemort. Two Voldemorts were something that they could never withstand.

Finishing her patrol, she walked to her room. Everyone was asleep and she was exhausted. She went into her tiny ensuite bathroom, a cream-tiled bathroom with a small claw foot tub, sink and a loo which, when flushed sounded like the ghoul at the Burrow. Little potted cacti and candles and damp books sat on rustic wood shelving. She had a speedy shower. She didn't wash her hair; she didn't have the energy and her arms ached from all the brewing she had done. She quickly washed with her shower gel, inhaled the tangy green apple scent, rinsed, and stepped out into a fluffy white towel. She stood and looked at herself in the small oval mirror above the sink. She was pale, her lips were full but chapped. Her eyes were deep golden pools as always, but they were heavily shadowed underneath and bloodshot from exhaustion. Her eyes had always been fierce, but now there was a tinge of fear in her eyes, a nervousness in her face. Since what had happened that night, she hadn't slept properly, she hadn't eaten properly. She needed to get back to herself, maybe then the Order would take her back on the front line and she would be off babysitting duty. She left the bathroom and pulled on a pair of thick fleecy pyjamas, she slipped into bed and as she blew out the candles on her bedside table, she felt Crooskhanks jump onto the bed and instantly she felt calm and safe.

The rest of the week sped by, and it was soon time to meet Harry. Dressed in a thick black woollen cloak, her beaded bag was enchanted to hold all of the supplies that she had for the Order, she headed out of the grounds, it was snowing and bitterly cold, she tugged her cloak tighter around herself. As she passed the enchanted boundary she looked back and saw that the house had disappeared and just a murky reservoir was in its place. She felt so anxious about leaving but excited too. She really missed Harry and Ron. She missed Ron the most, they hadn't spoken since they broke up. The break-up still hurt her. It wasn't what she had wanted. Ron needed certain things, things that she wasn't ready to provide. Remembering the last time, she had seen Ron made her eyes sting.

Ron had been so angry that night. Fuelled by drink and the fact that he had been called "Potter's sidekick" by a Death Eater during a battle. He had burst into her room in the early hours, feeling amorous. She had woken from a bad dream, and she was groggy and a little shaky, he had pinned her to the bed and kissed her for a while, she was ok with the kissing. She was just glad that he was with her after the awful dream. The smell of his hair always brought her such comfort. However, as usual, he had begun to feel her ass, breasts, and waist heavy-handedly. Holding her tighter, kissing her more passionately. It was too much, and she had pulled away, he stopped as he always did, as she knew that he always would. However, where he would usually be apologetic or reassuring, he was livid. His face was red and blotchy with anger. He jumped up from the bed.

"I will never be good enough for you will I Mione?" He had shouted as he staggered back towards the door, "Not good enough!" He swung and punched the wall.

"Don't say things like that Ron, I am just not ready, I –" His fist hitting the wall stopped her mid-sentence.

"Oh yeh, I forget, you aren't ready. What about Krum? You were ready for more with him. Don't deny it because Pansy Parkinson was shouting her mouth off about it at the battle the other day, she's dating him now!" Ron's voice thundered around the tiny cabin.

"Oh yes, of course, Pansy Parkinson knows more about MY sex life than I do, obviously she was trying to distract you or wind you up! Stop being so stupid!" Heat flushed Hermione's face; she couldn't believe what she was hearing. Ron's face darkened, he walked towards Hermione, grabbed the top of her arms, and pushed her back.

"Ron – W-what are you doing? Stop it." She pushed against his arms, but he was solid.
He tripped over his feet slightly and fell forward slamming her against the wooden headboard of the bed, and she bit her tongue painfully.

"That's what it is, isn't it? You think I am stupid! Not as clever as you, not as capable as Harry. Not as extraordinary as Krum. Do I bore you? I must do, you being the greatest witch of our generation and all. I'm not interesting enough for you, am I?" His words were slurred as he leaned over her, she could smell the alcohol on his breath. His eyes were so angry and hurt.

"Ron, you are wrong. We should talk about this tomorrow". She said tentatively. She reached up to hold his hand.

He shook her hand off roughly, glaring down at her. "We will talk NOW." He bellowed into her face.

Hermione shrunk back and burst into tears, she lifted her shocked eyes to his angry ones, "Please Ron, you are really scaring me." Her hands trembled in front of her chest defensively.

It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of water on him. Ron caught sight of himself in the mirror, his angry face and tense muscles. Then looked down at Hermione, seeing her hands shaking, he felt such shame. With one last sorrowful look at Hermione, he stormed from the cabin slamming the door shut behind him.

Hermione knew deep down that Ron would never hurt her, but his temper was so triggering to her. Everything was triggering since what had happened to her, it made things so much harder, Ron didn't know about that though, only Harry and Molly knew what she had endured. Ron would never have coped with it. She hadn't seen Ron since. Within a few days, he was dating someone else apparently. Hermione felt hurt, but she understood, and she was sure that they were better off as friends. Once he calmed down.

She didn't need to walk far, just down a narrow snowy lane to a small clearing. She sat on a tree stump and waited for them to arrive with the children. It was snowing again, and she just knew that the kids would be racing around the gardens pelting Padma with balls of snow. She heard a small crunch sound behind her, and she was up, her wand drawn and ready in less than a second. Her nerves may be shot but she still had her survival instinct, and her duelling skill was lethal. She listened carefully. Nothing. It was only when she sat back down on the stump that she realised her hands were shaking. She closed her eyes and took some deep breaths. Her exhaled breath glistened in the cold. The snow started to come down much heavier, Gods it was cold. Harry was late, which wasn't a great surprise. He often was and she could imagine trying to move the two children was much harder, especially with them being so little. They could be apparated, but they had to be strapped to the apparator and calm to avoid any interference with the energy transfer. It was tedious and best done when the children were asleep. She heard a soft crack next to her,

"Hello Hermione."