Your support is appreciated, you guys. To all the new readers (I see you!) let me know what you think! Guess what, I have this done already – it was written before, but I tweaked it to make it work as the second part to Blaise and Lavender's story. I've written it in parts, going back and forth between them. It will be relevant to the end of this tale – trust me. After this, we go back to Dramione.:)

LCailan

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The two women rushed to the doorway of the sleeping quarters, and Hermione peered out into the inky darkness beyond. There, she saw a woman struggling in the center of the courtyard, trapped between two Ministry officials, who were holding onto each of her elbows.

She was a pathetic, yet still, formidable sight, as she struggled and writhed against her captors vehemently. All Hermione could see in the darkness was a tangle of long, curly hair that hung down her back.

"Let me go, you vile cretins!"

The voice was loud, ringing across the darkened courtyard, and something about that voice touched Hermione. She didn't know if it was the sound, or the pain it was imbued with, the injustice, the hopelessness…

I recognize that voice…

The woman let out another yelp, and yanked hard to try to get away, growling one moment, and nearly sobbing the next. As they neared, the yellow, weak light from the buildings that spilled into the courtyard illuminated the two officials; they were Rookwood and Mulciber.

Gods, help that poor girl.

She sent up the prayer of supplication, wishing she were strong enough to help.

Hermione felt a deep pull of familiarity and sympathy for the yet unnamed woman, because she knew what it was like to feel that helpless and trapped. Too many times, she had felt that way. Too many times, there had been no light to be shed to brighten her darkness.

"Let me go, I tell you!"

The girl looked up at Mulciber, hatred in her demeanor.

"Months ago, you were one of them, weren't you? I was good enough then! I was worth those 100 galleons, wasn't I? You hypocritical bastard! You paid to lay with me, and now I'm rubbish? Now, I'm the filth? Let me go, your useless wanker!"

Her voice rang out with desperation, anger and…pain.

The bell announced the arrival of an older Muggle holding a newspaper. Draco's eyes followed him listlessly, and then returned to Zabini as he spoke softly.

"So that's when it started with you two?"

Draco's mug was once again empty, but from the looks of things they would need something stronger to get through Zabini's tale of woe. Unfortunately, neither of them wanted to get up and go elsewhere.

"The night in Paddington, when we were with Flint?"

He made a face, recalling that night. It had been Zabini's birthday. Draco had just been promoted within the Ministry. Flint had just started working there. The world had seemed at their fingertips, and none of them had given a thought to those worse off than they were. After all, they were Death Eaters. That night, it had seemed like the world was their playground.

Now, Zabini hung his head.

"Yes, that night."

Draco waited for him to continue, but he was silent for the time being. All around them, the sound of the evening patrons created a soft murmur.

He remembered Lavender Brown from that night, and it was quite surprising to Draco, for he hadn't thought about her for a moment since, not even considering that she could be the Mudblood connected to Zabini.

Draco had laughed at her -a cold, ruthless laugh. So had the others, whilst she had stood there, shocked at seeing them, perhaps because she hadn't taken the time to hide the sudden recognition that flickered in her much too-knowing eyes.

At that time, he had believed that he was laughing because she was a Mudblood reduced to doing exactly what she deserved – nothing. She wasn't a witch, she wasn't even a woman, simply an object to be used. Selling herself, defiling her body with any number of men. He had convinced himself that there, in that smoky club right off of Sussex Gardens, is where she belonged. He remembered sneering at her, and watching as those wide blue eyes filled with tears of shame.

Now, he knew better. Now, he knew that the laugh had been forced. Once he had allowed himself to truly think about what he had felt the first time he had run into Lavender outside of Hogwarts, he found himself admitting that the laugh had been one of shock, of sadness, perhaps of revulsion, but not without pity. He had pitied her, in spite of himself.

Lavender had been one of them, those stupid, worthless Gryffindors. He had never cared a whit about her before, and he still didn't, although he was unable to not feel for the girl's desperate situation. Perhaps, it had been that way for Zabini too.

Indeed, Zabini's face was turned down in a painful frown.

"She came onto you, I recall."

Draco swallowed, having pushed that memory from his mind. Yes, it had been true. Flint had laughed at him, egging him on, telling him that he wasn't married yet, that this would be one last good jolly before taking to bed with Astoria Greengrass. He hadn't wanted to, not even when Lavender had offered herself blatantly on the proverbial silver platter. It had disgusted him, made him wince. The others had laughed, but they hadn't seen his revulsion, and even after Draco had gotten up from the table, she had followed him…

"Don't leave me here. I'll do anything you ask, be anything you need…you don't know what it's like, do you? Being alone in this God-forsaken city, not knowing anyone! Please, I'm begging you…"

Still, he could hear the timbre of desperation, of fear, in the voice of a woman whom he had turned his back on, never to look back. He had hated her for putting him in that position, hated himself for being so…callous…

Draco's eyes burned.

He remembered her face, covered in garish makeup, her brazen words, and shameless come-ons. Even now, so many years later, the remnants of the sick feeling his stomach remained, the pity he had felt, the disgust…

The bell above the door to the coffee shop sounded once more, and a group of teenaged Muggles walked in, talking and laughing, stirring Draco from his not-so pleasant recollection.

Why was it that women had been able to read through the lines, feel out the sympathy that had always been a strange weakness within him? First, Lavender, and now…

Granger.

He tried not to think of Granger, though it was nearly impossible.

"You never left with us, did you?"

The question was not one of surprise, because now, things seemed to make sense to Draco.

Zabini looked up.

"No, I didn't. That's how it started. I thought she was easy. Of course, she was. I just didn't realize that once I touched her, I'd never be able to let her go."

His broken words had never struck more familiar chords within Draco's heart.

"You bastards!"

Her screams were punctuated by spitting, but only won her a hard shove, that sent her flying and prostrate against the dust. Rookwood leered at her and then gave her a sharp kick.

"You're nothing but a Mudblood whore. You think just because we lay with you, that you mean anything to anyone? That you have any right to say anything? To be anything more than what you are, you little twat?"

Hermione could see in the faint light, that the girl's hair was a sandy, yellow color, and beautiful - thick and curly. But the face – the face-

I know that face!

A sudden leaden feeling permeated her insides and Hermione gasped, just as Ginny gripped her upper arm.

"Lav…"

Lavender Brown? Oh, Gods.

Hermione felt as she had felt upon first seeing Justin. What had happened to all those whom she had called friends? Yet another one had been brought here, but she was…

Yes. It was Lavender. But, not Lavender. The girl now struggling to her feet wasn't the Lavender that Hermione recalled from happier memories. She wasn't the bright, slightly flighty girl who had competed for Ron's affections so many years ago. There was no blush to her cheeks, no sparkle in her wide blue eyes, no silly little bows adorning her crown of splendid hair. No lilting laugh.

Funny, how I hated that laugh back when we were in school. I was jealous, wasn't I? Jealous of her and Ron, and I wanted to hate her.

Now, she would have taken that grating laugh over Lavender's painful, sparkling tears.

How everything has changed, Hermione realized.

Though it had been too many years since the last time the two had spoken, it was evident that time had been cruel to the woman who struggled to remain upright on her knees. She was thin and worn, as if time had been a Dementor, stealing her vitality from her year by year. The face, once round and rosy cheeked, still held the faint recollections of the girl Lavender had been. But, here too, cruelty had left its mark. Now, she wore garish makeup, her eyes heavy with mascara and her lips smeared with red lipstick much too bright for her face.

Oh, Lavender…

Hermione knew, now. She knew what had happened to her old friend, what she had been reduced to.

I'm lucky! Oh, I'm so lucky! I had Ron! I had the Weasleys! Lavender…

Lavender was now standing, her cries silenced by the shove that had knocked the air out of her, and she clutched her arms to her barely covered chest, tears streaming down her face. And it wasn't just her chest that was barely covered.

She wore the signs of shame, the signs of use and abuse. A woman who had gone to any measure to make ends meet. Her eyes were too brazen, lacking all innocence, claiming no dignity. She was a woman who was now a man's playground.

Rookwood and Mulciber ignored the rising din around them, as the others who lived within the alienage had woken and gathered closer to the doorway, wondering what had caused all the commotion.

Lavender Brown stood, but she did not hang her head in shame in spite of her silent tears, instead stoically facing those, whose whispers rose around her. Hermione wished with her whole heart that she could take her former classmate away from this place, somewhere secluded, where she could be alone. Not this horrid place, where she would never be given any peace, where the officers who were one minute so cruel to her, would use her for their wanton carnal pleasures the next. Where, at any moment, she would be called names, mocked, derided, until she broke. Oh, they would break her. They would break everyone, eventually. If not, they would claim her life, more than they already had.

"Get in there, slut, and don't make me kick you again," Rookwood growled, giving her a shove which sent Lavender stumbling ungracefully towards the doorway.

The group gathered moved slightly to offer passage.

Mulciber laughed, and then the others around him did as well.

"If we had the permission, we'd get rid of your trashy arse faster than you can say Avada. Dumb wench. You nearly broke my finger with the last stunt you pulled! Next time you try something, I'm going to the superiors to see if we can take care of ya sooner than later!"

Lavender whirled around, her eyes flashing with hatred and anger, and she lifted her chin up to face her tormentors.

"Next time, it'll be your prick, although, if my memory serves me right, it might be too small to find!"

The harsh retort caused gasps to rise up around her, and Hermione stared, her eyes widening as Mulciber reared back and hit Lavender so hard she tumbled into the room, falling into the crowd that backed away from her as if she were diseased. They let her fall, without care, without concern.

Hermione fell to her knees, next to Lavender's fallen body.

"Lavender…"

The woman looked up, her face bright with a freshly blooming bruise to replace the faint signs of those from the past, her tears making tracks along her dusty, overly made up face. Recognition lit her blue eyes. Hope made her gasp.

"Hermione…"

The old Muggle in the corner of the coffee shop coughed and rattled his paper.

Zabini let out a sigh and Draco shook his head.

So that's how it had started between them. Something seemingly innocent, Draco decided. A shag, which all men needed from time to time. And the Ministry could hardly blame them, could it? Men had needs. Women, especially the Mudblood women, were more than obliging.

Certainly Flint had taken advantage, along with Greyback, Mulciber and sometimes Rookwood. Draco had never-

Then what are you doing with Granger? Care to think on that?

He didn't want to.

"I remembered her from school, you know. She was one of them, those Gryffindors, laughing and happy all the time. I knew it was shameful, but at the same time, something about shagging a Mudblood…"

It was difficult for Zabini to speak, and as of yet, he had not looked up from the table.

"I thought I would humiliate her, remind her of how disgusting she was, how she had to sell herself to make money. I wanted to laugh at her. I wanted to use her. And then, I found myself going back."

He let out a strangled sound.

"I told myself I was just mental, that it would only be one last time, but then…it wasn't. Then, she was at my flat, and she was smiling and making the rest of the bloody, cruel world just a bit easier, you know? We all want that, don't we? Look around us, Malfoy!"

His dark eyes were tormented when he finally looked up, the façade of devil-may-care completely gone now.

"Nothing is the way it should be. I thought at the beginning of this whole mess that Voldemort was the kind of wizard that could unite us, set all our sights on one, common goal. Bring us strength. Now, that's…"

Draco knew. Gone. It was gone.

Her face was pale under all that makeup, and Ginny tried once more to help Lavender with the bruises, to make it easier for her to clean up her face, but the blond-haired woman pushed her away, just as she had pushed Hermione away.

"I didn't know how bad it had gotten."

Her voice was cracked, husky from too many nights breathing in cigarette smoke, and her earlier bout of screaming.

"I didn't even know who they were, when they came to the cottage, you know, where mum and da had shop. They killed them both, and what could I do? Let them kill me too? I ran."

Lavender's hair fell around her face like a thick, heavy curtain. Hermione noticed even dirt-riddled, it was still beautiful, shining under the faint lights brilliantly.

"I thought London would be safe, though I didn't know the city. I thought I could hide."

Her voice was small and sad.

"They caught me, again. I fought. I fought them as hard as I could," she said with some pride, and Hermione couldn't help the smirk that appeared on her face as she listened to Lavender's sad story.

"They took my wand. I had nothing. No family, no wand, no way to take care of myself. The girls from Paddington found me. It's simply really," she finished, taking in a huge, shaking breath as she gazed up at Ginny and Hermione with tormented, shameful eyes.

"When you haven't a thing in the world left but yourself, you have to give that away, too."

A single tear rolled down her bruised cheek, and it broke Hermione's heart. Lavender was wringing her hands, and one of them came up as she caught her pinkie between her teeth. Her nails were small, painted a pink color, and bitten down to the quick.

"The first person I recognized in the whole world was Draco Malfoy. Ironic how he was the last person I'd have ever wanted to see…but things are different now, aren't they?"

Lavender's words made everything in Hermione twist so hard she nearly lost her breath.

Yes, yes, things were different now.

But the two of them, well, they weren't really that different at all.

Zabini had turned his head away once more, his fingers trembling as they rested on the tabletop between himself and Malfoy.

"At first, I hid her away like she was some nasty secret. I was afraid the Ministry would get wind of my…frequenting Paddington, but they never said a word. I suppose they believed that I was doing what I needed to do, but the truth is I wanted to be with her. I lied to myself, to those around me. She made me see the truth, she made my life easier, and she was the only thing that made me smile. Does it matter that she's a Mudblood?"

He grew agitated as he spoke between clenched teeth, his face a mask of pain.

"What happened to our future?"

His words were broken.

"What happened to the vision that I remember thinking was a good thing for the wizarding world? When did this disgusting prejudice become the most important thing? It clouds everything! It's like this…disease, that's eating away at the hearts and minds of those in charge, erasing their compassion, their goals!"

He shook his head, snorting, dropping his head once more.

"I noticed, one night, her bump. She hadn't even told me, she was so afraid. And, Merlin's beard, I was happy. Do you remember what happy is anymore?"

It wasn't a question to be answered, and neither man spoke for a long time. But Draco understood. He had known that joy, too, when he had gazed into Scorpius' eyes for the first time.

I understand.

Zabini was speaking again.

"Someone found out. I don't know who and how, but, they came after her, and she was terrified and so I panicked. Those charms we learned with Flitwick, they came in handy. I used them. I bedazzled her flat, I made her look like someone she wasn't. I tried to see her as often as I could, but at that point, they were all suspicious."

He took a breath.

"She grew angry with me. I didn't know what to do. She wanted me to give up my life to be with her."

Draco was beginning to hate the look of despair that bloomed in the depths of Zabini's eyes.

"What would you have done? Love wasn't enough, was it? How does a man give up everything he knows, everything he's ever known, for something so uncertain?"

Tears rolled down Lavender's face as she curled up against the cot, pressing her face to the rough, stucco walls of the building, trying to stay in the shadows, away from the prying ears and eyes all around her. Her fingers trembled as they came up to cover her face.

"I thought all hope was lost. I had given myself to so many men at that point, and I was terrified that I would die that way, alone, with no one at my side. No friends. No family."

She shuddered.

"And Malfoy was so cruel, they all were. All but one of them."

She sobbed.

"Can anyone blame me for falling in love with him? How could I have known that he could never truly love me because of what I am?"

Though both Ginny and Hermione had tried to calm Lavender, to offer some sort of comfort, the horrified woman had shirked from them over and over, pushing their hands away time and time again.

"I though he might love me. I though if I just tried hard enough, that he would stay with me. We even had a baby, a beautiful, little girl."

Ginny clutched her hands to her breast.

"Oh, Lavender," she whispered tearfully.

The other woman glared, tears glistening in her eyes.

"You don't know what it's like! You don't know! You had your children! You had Harry! I heard those stories, I knew you had run off, both of you!"

She shot Hermione an accusing glare.

"I never had my baby! I never held her after that first time! I never got to tell her how much I loved her! Don't you dare say a thing!"

Lavender was grieving, and broken, her words tumbling over one another thickly, interspersed with bouts of choked sobbing.

"I begged him to stay, to make it right. I begged him to bring her back. I told him I loved him and wanted him, but he…"

Her jaw was stiff, her throat tight, so that the words sounded strained.

"He didn't listen. He took our baby, and I never saw her again."

Tears rolled down her face freely, much too quickly for her to be able to stave off the flow. They dripped from her chin, sparkling in the dim lights. Her lips trembled.

"He came to see me, that last time. I told him to get out. I told him I never wanted to see him again."

She clasped her arms over her heart.

"What else could I have done? I was so angry, and he was trying to tell me something, but I wouldn't listen. I wouldn't…."

Zabini frowned.

"That last Tuesday, I knew she was angry with me, I saw it in her eyes. I begged her to forgive me, that I had no choice. Who has a choice anymore?"

He looked down at the table resolutely.

"I came to warn her about them, that they were coming, but she wouldn't listen. She couldn't hear what I was saying. I did all I could to protect her, and now…now I can't do that anymore."

Draco stared at Zabini, his mouth parted, harsh, cruel words on the tip of his rapier tongue, but nothing came out but a rush of air. He understood cowardice, knew what it was like to stand on the side of something horrible and feel helpless to stop it from happening, even if you wanted to.

Perhaps, we're all cowards. Perhaps, this new life has made us such.

Zabini frowned.

"They don't know for sure, mate."

His voice was low, his eyes glowing with urgency.

"They suspect her, and they wonder, but they don't know. There are too many girls in Paddington and I told them, I told them that it wasn't her. Now, I need your help. I had hoped that she would be placed within my alienage, but they're onto me. It's up to you. I need you help. Protect her, I beg you."

Draco pulled away from the table, taken aback with what he had just heard, by the way Zabini was looking at him. He couldn't look back, couldn't bear to see the desperation written in the other man's eyes. He wasn't sure if he ought to feel pity or disgust.

He refused to let himself believe the truth; he understood Zabini's feelings, and that was truly frightening.

Beyond the windows, all had gone dark, and London was now illuminated by streetlamps. Somewhere out there, a baby slept, away from her mother and father. In the blasted alienage, Lavender Brown was caged, nursing a broken, betrayed heart, all because the man she had loved was too cowardly to stand up for what he wanted.

We can't. We can't, even if we wanted to. She's a Mudblood.

Draco wondered if he was even thinking about Lavender now, for a pair of bewitching ochre eyes were imprinted on his conscience. Swallowing, he willed himself be calm.

I'm not as stupid as Zabini. I'm not stupid enough to fall for someone I can't have. I'm married, for Merlin's sake! I might not love Astoria, but I have her, and by Gods I'm going to hold onto her because I can't face what this man is facing. I might be even more cowardly than he is.

It was a strange thought, and it didn't sit well with Draco, mostly because it was true. Zabini's voice broke into Draco's thoughts once more.

"I was good with those damned charms, mate, but I wish I had given her something else."

"What do you mean?" Draco asked warily.

"They're helpless, you know. I shouldn't care, right?"

He scoffed, but the sound was a sad one.

"That's what they all tell me. I ought not to care, but I wish I had taken the time to teach her something so she could protect herself. She's…so alone, Malfoy. Alone, and without a wand."

The silence was heavy.

"There isn't anything," Draco realized darkly. "What's a wizard or witch without a wand? What can you do? What can any of us do?"

Zabini looked up, his eyes glowing a moment in the dim lighting of the room around them.

"You can help watch over her. I swear, if you do it, and you don't say anything to any of them, I'll get Lily Potter out of this forsaken city. I promise."

The two men stared at one another, and then Draco reached out, clasping his hand in Zabini's, as a gesture of silent agreement.

Neither said anything else; words were not always necessary.

Hermione stood over the tiny cot, her hands clasped together, Ginny behind her, as they checked on the woman asleep in the near darkness.

Lavender Brown had cried herself into a troubled sleep. Hermione watched her old classmate in the near darkness, pity singing a mournful song in her heart.

At least, Lavender could get a reprieve from her pain this way, in sleep.

Hermione prayed that it was dreamless, for she knew the nightmares she suffered with and didn't want anyone else to feel the way she often did, late at night.

In the dim lighting, Lavender's tear-streaked face was calm, and her breathing even. One of her hands was wrapped around her middle protectively, grimy fingers clasping at something that wasn't there, a baby that she had nurtured for months, too quickly torn from her. Her face was turned to the wall, golden curls fanned across a worn and gray pillow. Her other hand had dropped from the cot, fingers still clutching a small, white and black handkerchief.

Ginny leaned down to pick it up, biting her lip when she read the stitching. Pity in her eyes, she handed it to Hermione.

The scrap of material was white, and made of fine silk, and in black lettering a name was stitched.

B. Zabini.

Tears filled Hermione's eyes, blurring Lavender's sleeping form from view, and she held back a strangled sound. Her heart hitched as she watched Lavender in sleep, realizing that in the game they were all playing, there were losers and winners. You took a gamble, not knowing the outcome. You had no real choice whether to hope or not, to trust or not. You did, or you did not. And then, you prayed that you survived. Some did, and some didn't. You gave your all, you gave your life, your dignity, your dreams, and your future. In some cases, you lost it all.

Will this be me?

Bringing her hands up to her mouth, to hold back the bout of tears that she felt coming, Hermione turned away from the sight of what Lavender was now, trying to forget what she had at one time been.

She spent the rest of the night alone, sitting on the steps of the sleeping quarters, staring out at the empty courtyard without seeing anything at all. Hermione didn't know when the pain and the fear would stop. She wondered if it ever would, and if she could ever be strong enough to face a future that was full of other Lavenders, other Blaises. Could she be strong enough to face what her former friends, those reminders of a happier life, had become?

Sighing, she dropped her head and offered silent tears, the horizon slowly turning from a deep navy to the pale blues of coming sunrise. Autumn was upon them now, and just like the darkening world around her, the darkness of night held on longer, the sun rising later each morning now. Hermione shivered in the thin clothes she wore as she heard faint stirrings behind her from all the others.

She could see the faint outline of the tree line beyond the alienage that was her prison, and Hermione knew, no matter what had happened to Lavender, that she had taken the same gamble, and at least now, she had to cling to the hope that it would be different for her.

She feared if she didn't, the darkness would swallow her completely. As the sun rose, Hermione did as well, to face a new, uncertain day.