A huge thank-you to everyone for all your support! I researched it, and JK Rowling has never clarified Lavender Brown's blood status. I read what I could on the Lexicon, and for the sake of this unfolding story, and the role she will play, Lavender is Muggle-born, like Hermione. In this part and the one to follow, I introduce Blaise Zabini and Lavender Brown, and touch on the role that she, especially, will play a long way down the line. Bear with me, there might be questions at the end of this, but the part that follows should answer most of them.

LCailan

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Things changed. It wasn't like Draco hadn't expected it.

After all, one didn't go from lusting after a woman to…giving into said woman like a man lacking self control without it changing…something. He was loath to call what he had with Granger a relationship, because that would mean feelings were involved, some level of caring, and he knew that Granger saw what they had forged as a business arrangement. No feelings involved, end of story. He chose to blatantly ignore the annoying little voice in the back of his mind that often reminded him that he cared on some level. It didn't really matter.

But, even so, it was different knowing that what he lusted after, he could have at any time. It made him see her differently, and he knew what had happened between them in the bedroom was only an erotic prelude of things to come. Even if she didn't care, he could still have her, and that's all he cared about. At least, that's what Draco would tell himself, for he found that he was undoubtedly fascinated with her.

In fact, Draco knew it to be beyond simple fascination. For Granger, he would risk his position in the Ministry. For her touch, the things she had promised him if he protected Potter's little girl he would-

Potter's little girl. I can't believe I've a lick of concern for that silly little bint!

How things changed, he mused dryly. Never in his wildest imaginings would he have believed that he, Draco Malfoy, would be protecting Harry Potter's little girl. It seemed preposterous! If Potter were alive, he had no doubt they would finally be in agreement on something.

And yet, all preposterous things aside, he sat in the small Muggle coffee shop the following morning, nervously clutching a rather conspicuous red and pink mug full of Earl Grey, his silvered eyes flickering across the busy room in search of a man who hadn't arrived yet. He was late. Predictably, he'd call his lateness fashionable, but right now, it was irritating the piss out of Draco. Sitting at a coffee shop had never been his idea of a jolly time, coupled with the fact that this…thing…he was doing for Granger wasn't an easy feat, and was not without risk.

But, hell, she didn't know that. She probably hadn't considered it, what with her Jesus complex.

Sod it all!

He took a swallow of the hot tea, wishing, not for the first time, that it were something stronger. The annoying bell above the wood and glass door tinkled for the hundredth time since Draco's earlier arrival, but this time the bell announced the man he had been waiting for.

Blaise Zabini sauntered across the room, his slanted eyes having spotted Draco almost immediately. His demeanor was cool, one of airy confidence, and he wore the long black cloak and trousers signifying the highest rank within the Ministry of Magic.

"Malfoy," he drawled, pulling out the pink chair and falling gracefully into it, as he eyed the other man.

Admittedly, the new world had changed everyone – none of them looked easygoing any longer- but Malfoy, well he looked…

"You look peaky, Mate," he commented in a bored tone. "Work got you stressed?"

Draco ran a hand along his face, groaning.

"Among other things."

Blaise watched him keenly, yet the taller, darker-skinned man offered no conversation, which led Draco to take another swallow of the now nearly lukewarm tea. Blaise watched him over the rim of the cup and then rolled his eyes, speaking at long last.

"Well, you certain didn't invite me here for a rousing game of gobstones, did you? What's going on, Malfoy?"

The blond man paused, making a face before he spoke.

"No pleasantries then, Zabini? Fine, I'm here to ask a favor."

"This better not have anything to do with those ruddy alienages."

Draco snorted.

"That, and more. That, and Pansy Parkinson."

Blaise made a disgusting sound in the back of his throat.

"I told Bella not to put her in charge of that place! Merlin knows I have enough trouble running the one on my side of the city, and someone is always coming to me complaining about something that's happened at yours."

His face was one of disgust.

"There's the constant fighting there, I hear. And Flint can't seem to keep his dick in his trousers. Wanker."

This, at least, Draco could understand. Blaise cocked an eyebrow.

"So what's she done now? Stupid bitch is power hungry, isn't she? That, and she's barking mad, which is a dead awful combination."

Draco finished the tea, and then the grip he had on his mug tightened significantly.

"She's…tormenting a little girl, just four years old. Not even a Mudblood, but Parkinson's got some kind of hang up about-"

He paused, not sure how much to tell the man sitting in front of him. Draco had never learned how to trust anyone. He had found that usually, in the end everyone was out to get everyone else. The less people knew, the better, had always been his philosophy. Even with Blaise Zabini, whom he had called a friend at Hogwarts, and who, even now, knew more than anyone else did.

Blaise's eyes narrowed.

"You've got your knot up about a little girl? So, Pansy's keen on torturing children now? How's that much different from her usual sadistic repertoire?"

There was a long silence, and Blaise's words took on a suspicious tone, though his dark eyes reflected curiosity.

"I'm piqued. Who's the child?"

Draco realized this is where it would get a bit dodgy, but he supposed it couldn't be helped.

"She's Lily Potter. You know, Potter and Weasley's youngest brat."

"Wait, what are you on about, Malfoy? Potter's daughter? D'you fancy Weasley, is that it? I heard she was staying at the alienage. Funny really. You, shacking up with that red-headed blood traitor?"

The look on Zabini's face was one of condescension. Draco stiffened, his face white against the black of his uniform.

"Rich coming from you, Zabini. How is that Mudblood you fathered a child with doing nowadays? She still alive? Did you manage to get her out of Britain so you can spend your nights dreaming about her and the day you can be together again?"

The words were snide, and the look on Malfoy's face was one of triumph.

Truth be told, Draco knew little about the situation between Zabini, the Mudblood, and a child that the Ministry had tried to keep under wraps. He had lost touch completely with Zabini shortly after the other man had been promoted within the Department of Law Enforcement, and the two men had gone in different directions. He had only heard later, from someone else, what Zabini had done.

He paused for a moment before continuing casually.

"So I'm sure you know that even if I were with Weasley, which I'm not, it would still be one notch up from your taste in women."

Zabini's dark eyes blazed with anger.

"How dare you?" he spat. "What I did was my weakness! It's not for anyone to mock, especially you, since you need my help!"

"Quite right, though I simply wanted to point out your hypocrisy."

There was a long, tense pause. Zabini put his face in his hands, and Draco marveled at how time and the new regime changed people. Long gone was the man whom Draco had always believed lived and breathed cool confidence. Zabini was a broken man.

A moment later, his words were muffled from behind his hands, so that Draco could hardly understand him.

"I'm very well aware of my own hypocrisy, Malfoy, but do not want to discuss it."

Draco smirked as Zabini continued, pulling his hand away from his face, revealing a sneer.

"So go on then…the poppet?"

Draco twisted the empty tea mug in his pale hands, looking at Zabini thoughtfully.

"I need you to…somehow go over Parkinson's head, get the child transferred to your alienage. And then…I happen to remember that you helped make your own son or daughter disappear when the Ministry found out. It's one thing to shag a Mudblood but a whole different game if you get her pregnant, isn't that right?"

"Malfoy, I swear if you say anything to-"

"I want you to make Lily Potter disappear like you made your child and Mudblood mistress disappear."

Silver eyes met dark ones, and Zabini looked panicked.

"I didn't make anyone disappear, got it?"

The dark-skinned man leaned across the table, his gaze intense. Draco paused and then replied in an acquiescent, mocking tone.

"Fine. You didn't make anyone disappear."

There was another tense silence, but this time Draco could see that Zabini wore a look of consideration.

"Where is she now? I can put the request in, draw up the paperwork, at least that'll be the first step. Once she's on my side of the city, I'll try to get her out of London."

Draco sighed.

"How long would it take if I tell you that Parkinson has the child now? I tried to stop her, but she went over my head. That's why I need your help."

Zabini gnawed at his lower lip.

"That might be a bit more complicated, then. And it'll carry quite a price."

Things changed.

Hermione knew it the moment Malfoy had walked out of his bedroom, leaving her behind to compose herself and face the rest of the world. What had happened between them was clearly business to him. As it should have been, she decided firmly, because she didn't truly care about him.

Even so, it was difficult to return to the everyday, when each time she saw Astoria, images of Malfoy, flushed with desire and passion, replayed in the forefront of her mind. The way he had kissed her, and Merlin, the way he had touched her! But she tried for normalcy for it was what Malfoy wanted, and she was in no position to refuse him – no matter his request. So she did dishes. Changed the sheets. Prepared the food.

But most importantly, she tried to avoid Astoria, which was rather impossible for the woman was always around, complicating matters. She would be coming in from one event or another, getting ready for something, or leaving the house to go do something. To run into her was inevitable, and so in the end, Hermione settled for simple silence in hopes that in that way, she would be rendered nearly invisible.

Astoria was not Hermione's only worry, however. It was the dark worries over Lily's state that occupied most of her thoughts, and the fact that since the day in his bedroom, Malfoy had not touched her.

Does he not want me? Will he not hold up his end of the bargain?

She knew obsessing over it would not help, but even so, she was terrified that her only hope would be dashed. Perhaps, he was truly playing a game. Or maybe, somehow, Astoria had found out. Or, worst of all, he had never intended to help her, using her in such a foul way simply to get his jollies and-

No. Impossible. I'm Muggle-born, and certainly he wouldn't bother to sully himself with me unless he…

Unless he what?

To that end, Hermione had no answer.

She wasn't sure how many days had gone by since…that day. Two? Three, maybe. Four at most. And each was a little more tense and awkward, since Malfoy spent little time at home and left her to the whims of his wife.

Damn you, Draco. Wait, what? Malfoy, not Draco. He's not Draco. He's…he's…

Hermione shook her head to ward off any more strange thoughts. The kitchen floor needed scrubbed and then she had to launder the sheets, which would take most of the morning and if she wanted supper ready early (as was Malfoy's usual request) she would have to work quickly.

With that in mind, Hermione willed herself to stop thinking and start working.

Unfortunately, the sight of Astoria putting sugar into her morning coffee was what met her eyes when Hermione walked into the kitchen. Without missing a beat, she quickly wiped the counters and pulled a large bucket from the cabinet near the door, doing her best to ignore the woman in the resplendent aquamarine robes. She was a picture of wealthy perfection, right down to the exquisite precious stones that decorated her delicate fingers and sparkled in her ears. Sparing her no more than a half-glance, Hermione hurried from the room.

But not quickly enough, she realized.

"Look at me."

Astoria's tone floated through the kitchen to the doorway where Hermione had frozen, bucket in hand.

"Is the coffee not to your liking?"

Hermione's tone was tight, and she did not turn around. Her response elicited a nasty snort from Astoria.

"It's not the coffee. Look at me when I speak to you. Now."

As Hermione turned, she could see Astoria beckoning to her with a strange wiggle of her fingers. Not knowing what else to do, she moved mechanically forward, standing before Astoria, but not lowering her head in submission.

She had submitted enough, after all.

Astoria's lovely face was marred by a frown as she seemingly considered whether to speak or not.

"Do you think he's different? My husband, I mean?"

Hermione wondered if it was a question poised to trick, some nasty little trap that she was about to fall into. In the end, she followed the rule of silence, her eyes bright within a face of defiance.

"I know the stories they tell about that….place he works at," Astoria sniffed, her tone going sour. "I know what women in your position do…to survive."

Hermione bristled at Astoria's tone for she could sense the clear disdain that it was imbued with.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she managed to reply in spite of her sudden rush of hatred.

The words were lies, but after all, she was looking into the perfectly made up eyes of a woman who would never know what it felt like to do whatever was necessary to survive. It was women like Astoria Malfoy who put others in a position which they then turned around and mocked. The injustice nearly made Hermione vomit, but all she could do was clench her fists and pray Astoria would finish her daily derisions, and dismiss her.

"I think you do," replied Astoria in an airy, knowing tone. "Look at me."

This time, the order was more firm.

Hermione, who had looked away for she felt ill at the sight of the other woman's glowering gaze, looked up again, her eyes shooting silent daggers. But she did not speak. Astoria's voice was disdain draped in silk.

"You think I don't know what Draco does when I'm not here?"

She offered a laugh, but Hermione thought it was the most joyless thing she had ever heard.

"I see you walking around the house, you little whore. You think you can worm your way into his bed, do you? A shag to save your life?"

Hermione swallowed back a nasty response, trying to stay calm and not give away the truth. She felt Astoria's icy gaze penetrate her and she stood firm, staring back at her without fear.

"What? Nothing to say? Can't defend yourself, can you, Whore?"

Here words were a vehement sneer.

"I assume you're still here only because he hasn't gotten between those nasty legs of yours. But once he does, you'll be part of the trash bin, you will. There won't be anywhere for you to go. I guess the Dementors always need things to do, don't they?"

Hermione didn't move, didn't react – though inside, her heart had already plummeted to the depths of despair, as she knew that one of the gambles of making the decision she had made was that Draco Malfoy could do as he pleased, and if he didn't want her anymore then-

"He's just like all the others," Astoria stated matter-of-factly. "He'll use you, just like that prat Marcus Flint uses the women he's with."

Hermione's eyes burned but she didn't dare blink to give away her emotional reaction. No. No, Draco was different. She had believed it to be so, wanted it, even.

She just wants to upset me. That's all. It has to be all. I can't let this woman cloud my judgment, to doubt myself. I've made my choice, I have to be strong.

Astoria offered a simpering smile.

"He's not yours," she reminded gently. "He never was, and he never will be. He's mine, he married me; I am his wife. His wife."

Hermione's jaw quivered and in that moment of ephasis, a look of triumph appeared in Astoria's eyes.

"He might fuck you at some point or another, Merlin knows, they all do it, but in the end, who do you think he'll choose?"

The silence was so deafening, it hurt.

"It must be a dream to have a husband so devoted to you, then."

Hermione had wanted to be strong when she spoke, but the words, though hateful, were equally choked with emotion she had tried in vain to hide. The sarcasm was evident, and for that, Hermione received a well placed lash across her face.

"That'll teach you to give me cheek, you big-mouthed bitch."

Hermione was used to it by now; this pain was no worse than what she had already suffered by the hand of the others. She simply glared at Astoria, who let out another harsh laugh.

"You'll see who'll be standing last. Mark my words; you are a thing of impermanence. I was his choice, and will always be his choice. Now, get out of my sight."

Needing no encouragement, Hermione hurried away, into the hallway, holding back her tears and her breath until she knew she was alone. Then she shook with her silent, terrified sobs.

The two women sat on Hermione's cot, hands clasped, and fingers intertwined.

Ginny's face was pale, and since the day Lily had been taken from them, she had stopped sleeping. Dark circles now dominated her face, lining the weary, lackluster eyes that Hermione recalled had been beautiful, at one time.

"Justin's been a lifesaver. Somehow, he always knows…what's going on. That monster never lets Lily out of her sight. But they say Lily looks well. Pansy has not yet harmed her."

Ginny's words were barely a whisper, and Hermione's leaning on her shoulder had a two-fold purpose; she wanted to hear her better and she yearned for the comfort of another's touch. As Ginny's whisper faded into the melee of sound around them, Hermione took a deep breath knowing that there was little comfort for Ginny, for knowing Lily was faring well did not change the fact that she was not there, with them, safe and sound.

"Lily's going to be all right."

Ginny squeezed Hermione's hand.

"You're a liar," she whispered in reply. "But I still love you more than I can say. Oh, Hermione, none of us are going to be all right!"

Funny, how a whisper had the power to break Hermione's heart.

The pain and the fact that she had given up all hope was evident in Ginny's moan and it was so heavy with pain that it left Hermione speechless for a moment. She thought of Malfoy then, of those few moments in his room, of the promise he had made to her.

What do his promises mean?

The thought was an unwelcome one and Hermione shuddered. As pointless as it seemed, that promise was the only thing she had to cling to, the only thing that she could offer Ginny.

"Don't give up hope. I know it seems dark now, but there's…I just know, she's going to be all right."

Ginny pulled away for a moment, and once more Hermione was reminded of the pain that the red-haired woman was going through. Ginny searched Hermione's eyes for a silent moment, seeing the faint light of hope there.

"You really believe that."

It was a question, but more of a statement, and Hermione nodded, swallowing hard.

"I do. I know it."

She tore her eyes away from Ginny's when Hermione realized that there was a look of confusion and then curiosity that appeared on her face.

"What did you do?"

For the first time, there was hope etched along the lines of Ginny's face and her hand tightened in Hermione's.

"Please don't tell me you did something to jeopardize yourself."

Hermione shook her head vehemently. How could she tell Ginny the truth? She was the only person whom Hermione loved more than her life, the only person whose opinion still mattered. How could she tell her how she had shamed herself?

I can't. Not now. Maybe, not ever, but so long as Lily is all right…

"Does it matter?" whispered Hermione, lowering her brown eyes.

Ginny remained silent, and for a long moment, neither moved, and when she spoke it was soft, yet commanding.

"I want you to be safe, Hermione. I love you. I love you for being my brother's wife, for being the one person whom he could trust. For loving him, loving my children and family."

Tears filled her eyes.

"I never want to live this life without you."

Hermione's face fell and she wrapped her arms around Ginny tightly.

"And I never want to live this life without knowing I did everything, I gave up everything to protect your children."

Her tears answered Ginny's. Before either woman could say another word, the din in the room was interrupted by yells and screams from the darkened courtyard outside of the sleeping quarters.

The angry screams of a woman scorned.

Draco stared at Zabini for a moment.

Somehow, it felt good to know that someone else was on his side; someone else was willing to go against the Ministry.

Zabini understood Draco's predicament – at least in this, there was hope.

The taller man sat back, giving Draco a casual appraisal, though for the first time since Zabini had walked into the coffee shop, the veneer of casualness had cracked, the fissure revealing shadows of desperation.

"If I help you with this, I want your promise to help me."

Ah, so that was the price.

Draco's lip curled for a moment, as he eyed the other man. Of course, Draco realized that nothing was free. There was a tense silence as Draco waited. Finally, Zabini spoke, his voice harsh with darkened emotion, his slanted eyes moving from side to side to make sure no one else would hear what he had to say.

"You know nothing about what happened to me since the last time you and I were together, Malfoy. What I did, siring that child, it's the only reason I can't-"

He looked down at the table and when he spoke, it was cold.

"She never left Britain, Malfoy. No matter what they've told you or what you've heard."

Draco raised an eyebrow as he watched Zabini with a hint of interest.

"The Mud-mother of your child?"

Zabini offered a soft snort, but it wasn't one of derision. It was something sad, something Draco felt he understood.

"In fact, she's still in London."

This was surprising to Draco, who had believed that somehow, Zabini had connections to get people out of London, even England, if need be. This newfound news staved off the blossoming hope that had taken residence in Draco's heart. He didn't show it, however, speaking an unemotional reply.

"How's that possible? We've had to herd all of them into those bloody alienages, haven't we?"

Zabini let out a dry laugh, and rang a long finger along the edges of the table between them.

"For being top of your year, you're dead thick, Malfoy. I protected her."

His gaze was dark, but clear, his voice a quiet but emphatic hiss.

"She's bright, and determined. And I was…desperate, and…quite good at those disillusionment charms Flitwick taught us way back when."

The words faded and the Zabini's gaze morphed into longing and sadness.

"I'm surprised it lasted as long as it did. They caught her two days ago. I heard from someone – I had put her up in a flat near Paddington Station half a year ago, and…they raided it the other night. I see her every other Tuesday, you know. The others have kept it mum, even after the baby, but-"

Draco wondered what the Ministry would think of one of theirs frequenting such an area in the city, but he realized so long as no one made waves about the personal lives of the Officials, anything went. Men had needs and-

But there's a blood baby now. No wonder they tried to hide that. An Official siring a baby with a Mudblood?

He understood Zabini's desperation in hiding the baby and his mistress.

"Who is she?"

The curiosity got the best of him, and when Zabini's eyes met his, they were lost.

"You know her. She's the little biddy that went to school with us, Lavender Brown."

Draco's eyes widened, but Zabini beat him to words.

"But you say nothing, or you'll be sorry."

Draco cleared his throat, his look one of wariness, and his words were rough due to the shock of what he had just learned.

"So…what is it you want from me?"

The other man took a breath, his face falling, his anxiety written in his face, and his words painted a picture of shame with broken, tearful edges.

"They've taken her to your alienage. Help me. Keep her off the list of those receiving the Kiss, protect her, and I swear, I'll do what I can to protect Lily Potter. I need Lavender. It's sick and it's twisted, but in this life, I need her."

Draco was speechless as the truth washed over him. Lavender Brown? The same Lavender who had come onto him when he had first taken the position within the Ministry? A girl had at one time been bright and hopeful, turned dark and desperate, sad, and reduced to using her body to-

He was in shock, because he saw himself reflected in Zabini's eyes. After all, he knew what it was like to lust after someone he shouldn't. To want something he shouldn't. Nothing in this new world seemed right, anymore.

Why should this have been any different?

He turned to Zabini, a thousand questions bubbling to his lips, although he imagined the other man would not want to answer any of them. But, Draco knew he would.

The Ministry was like the Dementors, he was realizing. It sucked everything from everyone, making the joy, the hope, all of it disappear. And all that was left was bitterness and desperation.