You guys have indulged me in the past on other plot development – so I'm asking you to bear with me once more. In this installment Hermione passes on Seamus' message, and Ginny learns what Hermione has been doing to help Lily. Not exactly exciting stuff, but it helps further my epic plot. ;) To all my reviewers, thank you. To all those whom I can't reply to personally – I really appreciate your support! I appreciate all the latest alerts and faves - if you love it, drop me a note! I'd love to hear from all of you. Oh, and Kingsley Shacklebolt's quote is from Potterwatch, found in DH – not mine.

LCailan

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

One day later

Hermione blinked, barely able to keep her eyes open. Nightmares had plagued her all night, full of vivid cries for help and the helplessness of those nameless faces behind bars in the horrid row building. Even long after she had opened her eyes and struggled to make it through another day, she could hear the echoes of her own voice, the way she had pointed the wand at those poor innocents-

Stop it, Hermione!

Not even spending the afternoon in Kensington, a place she had started to associate with peace and a respite from her harsh reality, had made things better. Instead, she had sat through a silent afternoon, hardly able to even look Draco in the face. And when he had reached out, his hand covering hers gently, she hadn't responded. For the first time, the touch of his mouth against hers had stirred nothing within her. But, she had allowed him to take his comfort in her; she had wrapped her arms around him, welcoming the weight of his body against hers, as he had whispered unintelligible words into the heat of her neck in between the softest of kisses.

Hermione had heard none of his words. She had thought he would be angry, that she hadn't performed to the standards she had promised; but, he hadn't been. She was glad for it, but he hadn't been able to offer her any comfort either. At least, he still wanted her for now. For now. But, not forever, she knew. And that part frightened her more than anything else.

And so, she had dealt with her inner nightmares and fear of what the future would bring in silence, brooding for hours before Draco had given up and brought her back to the alienage.

Then, had come the night. Too dark and cold to be comfortable, all those around her had tossed and turned, whispers rising and falling under the blanket of darkness that surrounded them all. Even when Hermione had finally dozed off into a fitful rest, those nightmares would wake her almost immediately. In the end, she had spent the night staring thoughtlessly at the navy, star-studded sky, shivering under her worthless worn blanket.

The sun had risen weakly in the sky and Hermione struggled to open her eyes, knowing that once she did, she would have to drag herself through the day. Hopefully, it would only be that one night, and she could move past what had happened in the row buildings with Flint. Ginny still lay still and breathing deeply, and Hermione left her that way. Ginny hadn't slept well since Lily had been taken, and Hermione wasn't about to take the precious moments when her friend could sleep away from her. On the other side, Lavender rested, her head turned towards the wall, as usual, her hand covering her belly protectively. A wave of sympathy and sadness washed over Hermione as she moved away from the cots and towards the door leading outside.

Justin sat on the worn cement stoop, staring out at the sunrise.

"'Allo, 'Mione."

She sat, shivering for a moment.

"Budge up," she murmured softly, and he did, so that she found herself leaning against him, both for comfort and his warmth, which warded off the chilly morning air.

"You had trouble sleeping."

It wasn't really a question, but more of a knowing statement, to which she had no rebuttal. Sighing, Hermione nodded.

"Bad night. Loads of nightmares, and I just-"

Her words faded away and she closed her weary eyes, leaning against her friend. She felt him sigh as well.

"I heard 'bout what happened between you and Lavender. She hasn't talked since, and I reckon Flint isn't the most pleasant of blokes."

His words were colored with concern, but even the warmth in them did not relieve Hermione, who shuddered in an obvious way.

"He's horrid."

Those two words couldn't begin to come close to the misery and fear caused her at Flint's hand, but somehow, she simply wasn't able to vocalize what she was feeling. Not even to a friend.

"Aye," he murmured in a low voice, and then they sat in comfortable silence.

Hermione turned to gaze on his profile, the sun catching in his golden curls, his face not so pale in the golden light.

"I'm glad," she told him. "That you've managed to be….all right here. That they haven't gotten to you yet."

And she meant those words more than anything she had meant in a long time.

Hermione would never have vocalized her fears, or the fact that she knew what it was like to feel pain at the hands of the Ministry officials. Justin, too, had lost much in the war. But she was glad, after seeing all she had seen the day before that her friends had been spared much of the horror. Justin gazed back at her, and then he offered her a lopsided smile, though even this was touched with sadness.

"I have something to tell you."

Her words were quiet, spoken cautiously.

"I wasn't sure if I wanted to tell you, but, I've realized something. No matter what happens in the future, none of us can be responsible for anyone but ourselves. If we get out of here, fine. If we don't, well, it won't much matter will it? But he have to try, Justin. We have to hope that one day we'll be free of this place. There are groups, have you heard? The resistance movements?"

Justin's upper lip twitched.

"Aye," he replied. "There's been talk; even amongst those stupid oafs they call officials."

He glanced at Hermione, and there was hesitation in his tone.

"But I knew more before I was brought here to this forsaken place. They call themselves WERA. The wizards' equal rights alliance. Great bunch of blokes, trying to help us and all. It can't be easy, and so many of them have died already. Before they raided my flat, Seamus met me at a pub near here. He told me what was going on and he told me he'd try and help me, so I could join them. They need all the people they can get. It was getting to be too much for them, but they couldn't…they couldn't come in time, and…"

Hermione dropped her head, hearing the frustration in Justin's voice, his desire to be free, just like all of them.

"I know," she whispered, clasping her hand over his in hopes of offering some kind of comfort. "Seamus told me."

Justin gave Hermione a half-smile.

"'Blimey, Hermione, where have you been going with Malfoy all those hours he's got you at his house? Ginny tells me you're his housekeeper, but-"

Hermione let go of his hand, standing and facing away from him, her back straight. She took a deep breath.

"That doesn't matter."

Her fists were clenched, her face tight with determination.

"I'm protecting Lily. That's all I can say."

She turned then, a pleading expression on her face.

"Please understand."

Perhaps it was the intensity with which she said those words, or the fact that Justin understood desperation, but he said no more, instead, pulling Hermione down with him.

"So, you've seen Seamus. Did he tell you about WERA? About what's happened to the others? That they're all right?"

She nodded, and then touched his arm, turning him so that he had to look at her.

"They'll come here next month," she whispered her eyes locking with his. "Please, Justin, promise me you'll go when they come. They'll come for you. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Get out of here when you can. And take Lavender with you. And Ginny. If Lily is with us, I want you to take her, too."

Justin frowned and rolled his eyes.

"You know Ginny won't leave without you, and, I won't either, 'Mione."

"You have to! This is what we need! More people to fight with…with Seamus, and the rest of them."

Justin offered her a rare smirk.

"That's what Lee always says. Always the cheerleader, yeah? He was a bloody brilliant Quidditch commentator."

Hermione startled for a moment, smirking a little at the thought of Lee and all his colorful comments during the games at Hogwarts. She felt a twisting of nostalgia and sadness in her lower belly. Justin continued.

"He helped found WERA, you know. Him and a few others.

"Lee Jordan is with them? He's been leading the efforts?"

Justin nodded, glancing at her with a small smile. It served to brighten his face a fraction and Hermione was glad for it.

"Along with…there's…well, you remember Potterwatch, don't you? All those who were part of that, they kind of…felt the need to continue the effort, even after Harry…"

He faded away, sad once more, the life that had been stirred within him at the mention of Lee gone now.

"And some of the members of the Order, you know, the ones that survived Hogwarts and who didn't have families to check on…"

Hermione paused, her mind whirling. Potterwatch. She remembered how Ron had used the radio and that broadcast like a lifeline, clinging to it when nights got too lonely or his spirit too downtrodden. The voices of their former classmates had given them some hope, and even now she remembered the deep, honeyed drawl of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

. . . It's one short step from 'Wizards first' to 'Purebloods first,' and then to 'Death Eaters.' . . . We're all human, aren't we? Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving…

How right he had been!

"What about Kingsley? He was always so supportive of Muggle-borns, and…"

Her face flushed as she heard a whispered agreement from Justin.

"He's with them, Hermione. There was a lot of hope lost when we lost Harry. But not all. And Harry would have wanted us to fight back."

Hermione's eyes were shining as she looked at her friend.

"That's why you have to! You have to go with them when they come, and take care of Ginny and her family. I'd rather all of you be away from me and safe, than with me."

He was saddened.

"You can't save us," he whispered.

Tears filled Hermione's eyes.

"I'll sure try. And I know the others will too. Voldemort can't win forever; this Ministry will crumble someday, Justin. All that is great will one day fall."

She sighed.

"It's just a matter of when and how much we lose before it does."

"Aye," he muttered. "They've been talking about it all morning. What happened in western London, at the other alienage. The Ministry managed to capture most of WERA, you know."

Hermione's eyes flooded with tears, but she refused to speak of what she had seen in the rows, and what Flint had made her to do some of them.

"They'll be dead by tonight," she whispered. "But it was a risk and they took it! If we don't take risks, we'll be stuck like this forever."

Justin sighed, his fingers clutched into fists, and his face reflecting fear.

"Risk might mean death."

"Staying here will mean death, too."

Hermione's reminder faded into the air.

Draco hated dinners in the mess hall, having opted most days to go home, to Kensington. There, he could find relative calm, if not peace of mind. There, he could eat edible food and not the slop that the Ministry passed off as edible. And there, Granger would-

He stopped thinking, his fingers tightening on the metal fork that he was holding. He eyed the strange gray-brown lump on his plate, wondering what kind of meat it was. At the same time, he was avoiding the table in front of him, where most of his employees sat, talking and guffawing amongst each other. Animals, all of them. He wanted nothing to do with them now.

Unfortunately, luck was no lady, and she planted Mulciber and Macnair unceremoniously in Draco's path.

"So, it must me nice to be Flint, eh Boss?"

Macnair's lips twitched under his mustache, while Mulciber wore an expression harsh enough to make milk turn sour.

"I don't have time for this."

Draco snapped the words and stood to his full height, for he had never felt comfortable being in charge of such volatile men, even though most of the time he managed it quite well. He often feared them, though he would never let them know that.

"Don't ya?" Mulciber drawled. "Not fair, Boss. The last time I tortured a bunch of Mudbloods I got a day off without pay. Flint killed a full room for sport, and what's he get? A sodding slap on the wrist? Bollocks!"

Draco's face was a tense mixture of disgust and hatred.

"Those people who died this afternoon were part of that bloody resistance movement Madame Lestrange talked about earlier this week! I suppose if you two paid a bit more attention to your work and less to your pricks, you might have picked that one up!"

It was difficult for him to keep a calm demeanor, and not let them know how he truly felt.

"Oh, so are they more guilty than anyone else? And last time I checked, Mudbloods weren't allowed to look at a wand, let along handle one!"

Mulciber snickered.

"And that feisty little bushy-haired bitch was waving one around like some kind of conductor!"

Macnair laughed at the other official's stupid antics.

Draco froze, his lip turning up into a sneer.

"What do you mean?"

His question was sharp, grey eyes narrowed suspiciously. Hermione hadn't told him –refused even – to share what Flint had made her do.

Mulciber made a face.

"That bastard's more sadistic than I gave him credit for. He forced the Mudblood to torture her own. I heard he made her use the Unforgivables, he did! That's rich stuff, yeah?"

Draco stared, forcing an expression he hoped beyond hope revealed nothing, even though his insides froze with disbelief and disgust.

Bloody hell! That depraved piece of fucking shit! Oh, Hermione! No wonder you-

She had been so shaken. She had not spoken the whole evening she had spent with him in Kensington. She had hardly moved, even when he had so selfishly initiated physical contact with her to assuage his own guilt and fears. She had been willing, but so distant. Nothing like the way she had been that first night and he-

I just did what I had to and moved on, didn't I? Treating her like she's a-

His strange, inconclusive thoughts raged on like a train out of control until they crashed, leaving him numb. Macnair and Mulciber watched him, strange looks on their faces.

"You look peaky, Boss. Maybe you're comin' down with whatever Lady Lestrange has, yeah? She's been in the infirmary since Flint brought her there yesterday, sayin' she can't remember what happened or how she got there. Must be a right nasty illness. Probably got it from one of those disgusting Mudbloods, the flu or whatnot."

Draco swallowed hard, clearing his throat to find his voice, which was weak even when he spoke.

"Right, I should go…make sure," he muttered, scowling. "And don't you two go questioning my decisions about discipline here! If you got one day off without pay it was for good reason, Mulciber. And Flint…well, he'll get what's coming to him, don't you worry. And mind your own business. You have more important things to do now, what with the resistance against us growing stronger each day."

His words were forceful, and so must have been the look on his pale, sharp features, for both men nodded without speaking, backing away to let Draco through. He nearly shoved them out of his way, stalking out of the mess hall and towards the Ministry offices, murder on his mind.

Three steps into the courtyard, and Draco slowed, as reality crept into his rage fueled thoughts.

I can't confront Flint about this! He'll question my feelings, won't he?

He was stuck – hopelessly stuck in a situation that he didn't know how to get out of. He stood in the center of the courtyard, a strange figure wearing a face of confusion and within whom beat a tortured heart. As he managed to catch his breath, Draco looked across the yard, towards the horizon in the distance. Impossibly torn, he didn't know what to do. He knew Flint deserved the proverbial shit beat out of him, just as Pansy had deserved the same for the things she had done, but how could he, Draco Malfoy, do something like that without drawing suspicion to himself?

And if something happens to me, who's going to make sure she's all right?

No one. Because no one gave a damn.

But me.

The first thing Hermione was aware of when she entered the laundry room, was the sound of a woman yelling at the top of her lungs.

"I'm sick of your sympathy!"

Her voice was shrill and laced with pain and anger.

"I know you feel bloody sorry, all right? I got it the first night they tossed me into this place. I don't know how to ask you to stop feeling sorry for me! To stop looking at me! I hate the looks everyone gives me! I hate everything!"

Hermione stopped when she saw the pallor on Ginny's face, the helplessness, as Lavender, who was decidedly more red faced, tore into her with a savage bitterness.

"I know I'm coming off like some ungrateful bitch, but I just can't do this! I can barely handle what's happened, let alone deal with everyone around me!"

Her trembling hands came up to cover her face, and she began to sob.

"Please, just leave me alone."

Hermione stopped when she reached the two women, who had clearly been in some heated discussion before Lavender had lost her temper, and she wasn't sure if it was the events of the afternoon, or their whole situation, but Hermione bristled.

"You should learn to be more grateful, Lavender. There isn't much sympathy to go around, you know. Some of us didn't have any for years, and we've done nothing but try to understand what's happened to you from the beginning. Ginny's not to blame, she doesn't know what you've been through. None of us do. Maybe, we would leave you alone, if we knew what you've faced. And why you push us away."

Her words were soft, but they were still cold underneath their softness; Hermione had not forgotten their argument, for it had led to the punishment inflicted on her by Marcus Flint.

Lavender turned her blue eyes wide and full of rage.

"Who are you to tell any of us how to feel and act?"

She seemed to forget Ginny as she advanced on Hermione.

"Have you ever considered that some of us can't talk about our feelings like you can?"

The words were like an invisible slap that rocked Hermione backwards for a split second. In some ways, Lavender was right. Hermione couldn't speak of her problems so that they could understand her; she couldn't even be honest with her closest friend and sister-in-law.

Lavender continued, her tone broken.

"Some of us don't want to! Some of us just want to be left alone!"

Her voice begged them to leave her alone. Hermione dropped her eyes, sighing.

"I just don't think…there needs to be any more fighting. Especially between all of us. We need each other."

Lavender sniffed.

"I don't need you, or the Pureblood Princess behind me. Pretending to feel sorry for me and what's happened! Just leave me alone, Hermione! Don't you have enough problems worrying about pleasing your Death Eater? Don't make the mistakes I made, or you'll end up just like me!"

With that, she pushed Hermione out of the way and disappeared, leaving a stunned Ginny in her wake. Her brown eyes were full of confusion as Hermione sank down onto one of the rickety cots, wrapping her arms around herself.

There it was, the truth, and uttered in such a disparaging manner, too. She could hardly bring herself to gaze up at her companion, wondering what she would think. Hermione felt the shame burning across her cheeks, coloring them feverishly.

"Hermione?"

It was Ginny who spoke first.

"What did she mean?"

The words weren't accusatory, and Hermione felt the cot shift as Ginny sat down next to her. Then, she felt Ginny take her hand, but even this didn't help her find words to answer the question. Ginny squeezed Hermione's hand, leaning against her for a moment.

"You know I've wondered what you've been doing for Malfoy," she whispered, suddenly overcome with a realization.

Lavender's words, and Hermione's hours away from the alienage.

"You've slept with him."

Tears formed behind Hermione's closed eyes, and a choked sob escaped. The two women held each other for a few moments. Finally, after a long time, Hermione glanced up, daring to look into Ginny's face.

"It's to help Lily. I'm sorry. I never thought-"

Ginny didn't look upset. She didn't look offended, or derisive, or accusatory, or ashamed, like any of the things Hermione had expected. She simply looked sad. And Hermione, like Lavender, didn't want sadness or sympathy.

Quickly, in one jerky movement, she got to her feet, wanting to escape Ginny's presence, her eyes, everything.

"Lavender's right," she whispered. "Sometimes when you've given up everything, all you have left is yourself. I offered him what I could, so he would help Lily. He says he will. I believe him."

Ginny, who could hear the broken quality of Hermione's words, stood up as well.

"Do you believe him? Or is that what you're telling yourself to keep from losing all hope?"

Hermione faced her friend, opening her mouth to speak, but uncertain even what to say.

"I believe him."

But, the truth was, she didn't know anymore. She didn't know what to think, or how to feel, or who to believe.

"He's a Death Eater. He did this to you; he did this to all of us."

Ginny's brown eyes were watering.

"None of this would have happened if his kind had a conscience or even considered for one bloody second what they were doing! How could you trust him?"

Somehow, the derision that Hermione had expected had crept into Ginny's voice, and it broke the other woman's heart.

"He's…he's not so bad. You know that, Ginny! You saw that, more than once. You know me. You know I'd never do something that would potentially hurt you or your children. I…I couldn't sit back and let that woman take Lily! He said he'd help me."

Ginny's looked towards her friend, in a limbo, one part of her wanting to trust Hermione, and the other terrified of the decision she had made. In the end, she got up, and turned to head out the door. Hermione couldn't stand the possibility that her closest friend in the whole wide world would walk out of the room with such uncertainty and fear painted across her face. She dashed after her, reaching Ginny just by the door.

"He's kind," she whispered. "More than kind. When I'm with him, it's better than when I'm here."

Tears filled Hermione's eyes and Ginny's lips moved slightly, her eyes wide.

"I just don't want you hurt, 'Mione. You can't forget what he is. There's no kindness there! No sympathy. What happens when he stops wanting you?"

The question begged an answer, but Hermione had none, and she was only able to stare back at Ginny silently. The red haired woman sighed, gathering the brunette to her in a torrid hug.

"Be careful," she whispered. "I can't bear to lose you. I can't even bear the thought. Promise me, Hermione. Promise me you'll be careful."

Hermione pulled away, swallowing.

"I promise."

In the distance, she saw the brilliant blond of his hair, just as he slipped behind a building. He had been watching her, and she couldn't help the strange, frightening thrill that ran through her.

For no matter what Ginny said, Hermione knew she had already made her choice to be with him and there was no turning back now.