I apologize firstly for my sudden MIA status. Unfortunately, that's my life right now and I can't promise updates as frequently as before, so I won't. I'll try to write as I can and post when possible. The new position at work and real-life has cut into my writing time drastically. But I still continue this, albeit slowly. Having said that, thanks guys! Here's the next installment. There's a twist here with Astoria that I don't think anyone will have seen coming. Guess what it might be!

LCailan

Chapter Forty-Two

The room was shadowed for she had drawn the curtains, cutting herself off from the rest of the world. The heavy material muffled the busy sounds of Kensington Street, and in her bedroom, Astoria Malfoy held a small tube of lipstick, applying it to her perfect cupid-bow's mouth with a steady hand.

She hadn't seen her husband in over a month. In fact, she hadn't taken a visitor in that long a time as well, venturing only within the neighborhood most of the time. The last time she had seen anyone had been in the small tea shop the day she and that cow Pansy Parkinson had made their deal regarding Draco. Astoria rolled her eyes realizing again how miserably Pansy had failed in holding up her end of said bargain.

I wonder why she wants to see me…

She put down the makeup and stared at herself critically in the large, ornate mirror that took up a significant amount of the wall opposite the huge bed she had shared with her cold, hateful husband.

The woman that gazed back was perfectly beautiful. Her hair fell down her back in a shiny, thick cascade and her face was impeccably accented with the most expensive of makeup. Even in the shadowed room her eyes glowed brightly. She only let others see what she wanted them to see, and, satisfied with her appearance, Astoria moved to the large closet to choose her clothing for the day. She wasn't upset neither about having to live alone nor about Draco's obvious abandonment of her. What needled at her the most was how she had let herself go physically. It had been over a week since she had actually worn something from her closet opting instead to spend her days lounging around in her drawers and a long, silky robe.

She rifled through her many garments to find a suitable outfit, one that would not betray the thin cracks in her outwardly appearance. Pulling out a mint green and white dress, Astoria finished getting ready for her day, leaving the room only moments before the sound of knocking echoed through the front foyer.

When she opened the door, Pansy Parkinson stood beneath the wide, shadowed porch, her dark eyes wide and framed with heavy lines of weariness. The silence was only broken by the howling of the coming winter wind.

"Can I come in?"

Tension loomed between the two women but Astoria allowed Pansy to pass.

She looks hideous. That Ministry is destroying everything it touches!

Once the door was shut, Astoria moved towards the large living room, keenly aware of the fact that Pansy's footsteps sounded louder than they should have along the pristine, polished wood floor.

"I take it you have news of my husband's infidelity?"

She paused, not turning.

"I can't imagine that it would be good news, yes? I haven't seen him in over a month."

She ran her fingers casually over the dark, wood mantle on the far side of the room, working hard to keep her voice casual. But Pansy's reply shattered her act.

"Your husband is dead."

Astoria whirled on the other woman.

"If this is a lie to cover up the inability to hold up your end of our bargain, so help me God I'll-"

Something about the utter broken quality in Pansy's gaze caused Astoria's words to weaken and fade altogether, her beautiful face flushed with anger and then paling with realization.

Pansy's white face was painted with hatred she didn't bother to hide.

"And why would I lie about something like this, you stupid bint?" she hissed.

"You dare call me names in my own home?" she challenged.

"A home that you hardly deserved," sneered Pansy. "And I don't give a damn any longer what you think or how you feel, Astoria. You were never good enough and you know what? He was unfaithful. He never loved you."

Her violet eyes had narrowed and in them shone triumph and heartbreak. It wasn't as if Pansy felt sorry for Astoria; she didn't. She hated the woman with the heat of a thousand suns. Astoria was Draco's wife – it didn't matter that the marriage had never been real; still, she had been his wife. She had slept in a bed with him, bore him a son and taken his name. She had taken for granted all those things that Pansy had wanted and been painfully denied. Astoria had never loved Draco; Pansy had loved him beyond her own understanding. And yet…

Astoria was smirking.

"You think I feel wounded that my own husband doesn't love me?" she scoffed. "I wished I felt sorry for you, Parkinson. But I don't. You're a hateful woman who'll never stop being jealous and resentful of the things that I got and you never deserved. Hate me all you want, but he was my husband and you never meant anything to him."

Pansy swallowed thinking back to the night and the way she had felt for those few, all too brief moments in Draco's arms. She felt a surge of love all over again and clung to the hope that even though she had never been married to Draco that he cared for her more than he had ever cared for his wife. She wanted to say those words, but did not dare betray him.

Astoria was watching Pansy and there was a sudden, calculating flash in the vast depth of her expressive eyes.

"It was the Ministry, wasn't it? I loathe that organization, what it stands for and everyone involved in it. I told him over and over that he ought to quit."

She studied a perfectly manicured fingernail for a moment, the pink lacquer looking much too garish under the circumstances. Pansy took a breath.

"You could say that."

Her words were roughened by the hand of emotion though she tried not to show it. Astoria glanced up once more, casually assessing the other woman.

"What's that supposed to mean, Parkinson? Unfortunately I don't possess a prevaricating nature so just spit it out or don't."

Pansy snorted.

"I suppose you wouldn't, would you?"

Prevarication would require a brain and Pansy wasn't quite sure if that was something Astoria possessed or not.

"Either tell me or get out of my home."

There was a hard silence and then Pansy offered a smile.

"He was cheating on you with the Mudblood, you know," she said in a voice that was as poisonous as it was sugar-laced. "That bushy-haired one that worked for you. Fancy having her under your roof for so many months and never knowing that they were probably fucking in your bed."

She offered a ghost of a smile.

"How does that make you feel, Astoria? Knowing that you weren't good enough, not even in all your finery and your pristine family and blood line? He still preferred bedding a filthy Mudblood. Did you know that he told me he was in love with her?"

The words hit where Pansy wanted them to; Astoria blanched, looking more like a porcelain doll now than a living, breathing woman. Her dark eyes were round.

"I knew it," she hissed from behind clenched teeth. "Disgusting, worthless whore. I'll show her."

Pansy grinned.

"You don't have to. I already did. He made me do it, you know. It was my life or his. And he sided with her.I threatened to go to the Ministry and he…well, there was a lot of pain."

Astoria stopped, watching Pansy quizzically.

"He's dead because of you?"

"Both of them are dead."

The strangest thing was that instead of being shocked, Astoria began to laugh. She threw her head back and the sound filled the cold emptiness. Pansy couldn't remember the last time that laughter actually held any joy and this was no exception. The laughter was devoid of emotion. It was simply a sound – both grating and cold.

"You?" she managed to say when her laughter had died down a bit.

"I told you," replied Pansy in a pronounced way. "I had no choice. I caught them together and when I told him I'd go to the Ministry he threatened me."

Pansy's eyes flashed with hatred; it was easy to muster the emotion for she still felt herself in the grip of love and hatred when it came to Draco. And anger…always anger most of all.

"He tied my hands, really. I had to defend myself, and I did."

The smugness of her tone was the last thing that died in the stillness. At first Astoria wore a look of mild interest though beneath that, confusion was evident. Then the sneer formed on her lips.

"You really are a crazy bitch, aren't you? You killed him because he didn't want you? It wasn't enough that you cost Zabini his job and kidnapped a little girl that wasn't yours to try and get Draco to love you? In the end you had to kill him?"

Pansy saw a brilliant and burning red and it caused her to be speechless with wrath. Though she knew to keep Draco safe she had to keep up her end of the façade, it was becoming harder and harder to do so.

"Sod off, Astoria. What do you know anyway?"

"You mean besides the fact that you're desperate, pathetic and insane?"

She smirked.

"You really did do everything you could to ruin his life, didn't you? I told him the Ministry would destroy him sooner or later."

"And now he's dead."

"More's the pity. He should have listened to me."

Pansy was cognizant once more how cold and cruel the world had become. This woman, Draco's wife,was showing little if no concern or care over his supposed death. It was beyond unfeeling as was the blank look in Astoria's black eyes.

"It is up to…us-you to…bury him."

She could not hide the stumble she had made and for a moment Astoria only stared and then she laughed once more.

"Don't you worry yourself about his burial. I'm his wife, am I not? I'll take care of it."

The words were a mockery of concern and sweetness, for Astoria meant not to comfort but to remind Pansy that she would not allow her to be at Draco's funeral. Speechless, Pansy felt a sudden rush of burning behind her eyes and was glad that Draco was not truly dead.

If I weren't allowed to share in those last few moments…

She chose not to think about it and instead shook her head.

"You do as you wish. I only came to tell you the news."

Astoria wondered at Pansy's seeming calm and the way those dark eyes remained emotionless. It irritated her for she would have seen the other woman fall apart before her and taken great pleasure from it. The news of Draco's death settled a cold and slimy heaviness on her conscience. Turning from Pansy, she trained her eyes at the window and beyond it where the street was covered in a fine powder of snow.

It wasn't as if she had ever cared for her husband, was it? He was just inevitability in a life that had never been hers – just another pointless choice she had not been allowed to make. Nothing in her life had ever been her choice and so it had also been with her choice of a mate. She had not loved Draco; she still did not love him. And so it seemed impossible for Astoria to understand how a woman who felt nothing for her husband was supposed to live out the entirety of her life with him.

As it was, she had resented Draco and therefore, their son.

Still thinking about the little boy who had now been gone for years stirred something in Astoria's cold heart; she hated that something for more than likely it was guilt and she hated guilt more than any other emotion. She had not been a good mother and for a long time she had blamed others for that fact. How was she supposed to be a good mother if she had never wanted children? Shouldn't it have been her choice to be married and to bear offspring? Why had someone else made those decisions for her?

Yes, Draco had come from an impeccable family. Very few families were lauded like the Malfoys. Very few wizards could trace their bloodline as far back as Draco could and very few could sit as comfortably as he had within the Ministry simply because of who his father had been.

In some way Draco's position and money had been warranted and in others he had simply gotten lucky. As far as Astoria was concerned however…none of that had mattered. As she took her next breath, something began to burn within her.

"Go ahead," she whispered.

"What?"

Astoria felt her heart pounding in her ears; it was a steady, heavy thumping.

"Go ahead and bury him."

There was no sound from behind her but Astoria would not turn to face Pansy. She couldn't look into the face of the woman who felt what she should have! It was madness.

"You want me to take care of it?"

Pansy's voice rang out with skepticism and uncertainty and it only fueled Astoria's anger. Tears threatening her, she waved her hand wildly behind her.

"Do it, I don't care. Do what you must and leave me be!"

"But-"

"Fuck off, Pansy!" shrieked Astoria, gripping the edge of the parapet of her living room window. Her face was white and her jaw set. "You're the one that's been blathering on for years about how much you love him! You killed him so now bury him!"

She whirled then to face the other woman, her eyes wide with unbridled fury and frustration.

"You killed him and yet you loved him!" she spat. "What kind of love is that? Prove that you loved him, why don't you? Give him a funeral proper for a man of his position if you gave such a damn about him! I don't care! Don't you see…I never cared! You wanted him all this time and you should have had him. It wouldn't have made a difference to either of us!"

Pansy's face was once more unreadable though the tumult of emotions raged just under the calm exterior. How unfair life was! How this woman hated the same man that she had always loved and yet she had been blessed to have him! She had never appreciated what Pansy had wanted all her life!

"Fine," she spat, her eyes snapping with hatred. "I don't understand you, but fine."

"You don't have to!" shrieked Astoria, wanting to laugh at the bitter irony but unable to feel anything more than the raging fire that was consuming her from the inside. Sadly she realized that white-hot anger and the darkened resentment were the only emotions she felt passionately towards her now deceased husband. Had there ever been affection, however mild? Had there been a bit of compassion?

No.

No, there had been nothing. She had felt trapped and completely alone; her family and those she had loved had shunned her complaints and refusal to marry so quickly after finishing school. None of them had cared; they had all wanted her to do what was proper. And yet, before her stood a woman who had never been subject to such control. In fact, Astoria would have bet that Pansy Parkinson had never allowed anyone to control her! She had left school and climbed the ladder within the Ministry. What pain could she possibly believe was deeper than not living your own life?

She did understand one thing, however. She understood the feeling of unrequited love and the pain that it wrought. That Astoria understood. And in that she saw the sad irony of her situation and how Pansy played into it.

"You won't understand," she said then, her voice choked. "But you'd know better how to show respect than I would. I never loved the man the way you did."

No, she had not loved Draco.

But that hadn't stopped her heart from loving another.

WERA hideout

Sometimes tragedy becomes a reminder of the beauty still left in the world, Luna Scamander had decided a long time ago. It was one of those beliefs that she had which helped her get through each gray and hopeless day that she had been forced to face since the Ministry had fallen to Voldemort.

Though the loss of yet a few more souls within the Alliance, the death of one of the twins who had been Luna's dearest friends, and the fact that sweet Justin was dead now, she could still see evidence of the beauty that surrounded her and the others that remained within WERA.

With yet another holiday approaching them, most likely a sad one just as always, Luna could see a glimmer of hope in the eyes of her companions. She could nearly see the hints of smiles on trembling lips, the sound of happiness in hushed voices. And of course there was the joy of reunion; Ginny with her sons and Lily with her brothers. Not to mention her own twin sons with Ginny's youngest daughter. And of course, Blaise had been tearfully reunited with Lavender, and both parents with their baby daughter. That had been more beautiful to Luna than everything else put together. Too see joy in Blaise's dark eyes which had been full of sadness for so long was a blessing indeed.

The Alliance spent the weeks following the attack on the eastern alienage mourning those who had died. Luckily for them, there were few casualties. The truth was that their endeavors that night had been incredibly fruitful, no matter the casualties wrought. Counting Ginny, Lavender and the children, over half of the Muggle-borns living in the alienage had escaped, and the Alliance was sure that some others had also made an escape, though their whereabouts were unknown. It had been the first major victory against the Ministry and that, in and of itself, was something to be joyful about.

The victory brought smiles to tired and weathered faces. It had given Minerva something to be happy about; it had brought peace to Filius' heart. Dean had gone about his way joking and laughing more than usual and the sparkle in Seamus' eyes had returned once again. There was no denying that for the first time in months the mood had lightened around them significantly. Hope was on the horizon.

But even in the face of hope, Luna feared what was brewing just below the surface. Surely the Ministry was onto them now. Surely someone had recognized them and knew where they had gone. And of course, close to Luna's heart and to the hearts of the others, or so she hoped, was the fact that Hermione was not with them.

Where had she gone? Was she still alive and did anyone know for sure? Luna had asked no one hoping that someone would volunteer forth information but no one had. She was certain that only few, if any, knew what had happened that fiery night. One of those people was Lavender Brown, but just as none of the others had mentioned it, Luna was aware that Lavender had done nothing but two things since being rescued from the alienage. She refused to speak and she refused to relinquish possession of her daughter to anyone but Blaise. None of them could get anything from her and when she did speak during moments that were few and far between, her voice was embittered, dark and husky from disuse and the tell-tale sign of too much cigarette smoke. She was no longer the girl that Luna remembered from school but then again, none of them were what they had been. In spite of having been rescued from the hell of captivity, Lavender harbored no hope at all.

As the Alliance began to build momentum, gaining confidence from the success of the night they had helped nearly all of the Muggle-borns escape Draco Malfoy's alienage, many of them were aware that things were not all right with Lavender or Blaise. As each day passed both seemed sucked into a shadowed vortex where only they themselves and their daughter existed and where one was, the other could be found. No one questioned such behavior at first for death often made one cherish those closest to them but after awhile Luna began to be troubled by the fact that Lavender acknowledged no one but Blaise and it seemed more and more like the couple was no longer aware of anything going on around them.

Perhaps no one questioned it because in some ways it was understandable.

But it didn't help to abate Luna's concerns and on one cold, winter morning it was what she was thinking about as she washed the dishes from breakfast. The door opened behind her and Ginny walked in.

"The same?" Luna questioned.

"Yes," replied Ginny. "I don't even think Blaise knew I was in the room with them and they certainly said nothing to the others in the room."

"It's strange, isn't it?"

Ginny looked sad for a moment.

"Maybe, but I get it, you know?"

Her mind wandered with fondness over the memories of Harry and she wasn't able to say without any doubt that she wouldn't have acted the same were she in Lavender's place.

"It's trauma," she whispered.

"But it's not healthy," Luna replied, speaking her worry aloud. "She's been through so much; we all have. We talk to each other and she needs to get it out…"

The thought of that sad, broken face flashed across Luna's mind once again as she finished the dishes, putting aside the small rag she had been using. Turning to Ginny she took a breath.

"What happened that night?"

Ginny averted her gaze as Luna pressed on.

"Where did Hermione go? Why hasn't anyone spoken of her?"

The silence a deafening and uncomfortable one and although Luna willed Ginny turn to look at her, the red-haired woman did not, opting instead to gaze out of the far window in the small kitchen.

It bothered Ginny more than she could put into words; it bothered her thinking of that night and the way Hermione had turned away from her closest friends and…

My children! She turned away from me and my children and chose to risk her life for what? For that…that…

Her fingers tightened involuntarily, a motion that was almost indiscernible to the casual spectator. But Ginny felt flooded with loathing for Malfoy…in spite of the good he had done for Hermione.

He was more important to her than I was! Than everything that we had gone through! She was supposed to be here! She was supposed to be leaving England with me and what's left of our family! She's a Weasley! How could she…?

Tears burned Ginny's vision and all the months past flashed before her eyes. The pain that Hermione had gone through, the tortures the Ministry had forced her to endure, the jeers, the mocking the hunger the pain…the degradation.

He was just like the rest of them, wasn't he? How could any good be found in him?

"Where is she, Ginny?"

Luna's insistence broke Ginny's growing agitation and she nearly groaned before she stopped herself.

"She chose to stay behind, Luna," was her calm, measured response. Behind her she could hear the exasperated sound of Luna's sigh. This was why no one had spoken of it; this was why it was best kept between the people who had witnessed Hermione's abandonment of those who cared about her. Because Luna would ask too many questions and Ginny wasn't ready to rip open those fresh, aching wounds just yet.

"I don't understand why she'd do that!"

"I don't either, but she did. It was her choice."

"Where did she go?"

It would have been fine to turn and face Luna, to tell her the truth and to cast Hermione into a bad light but somehow, Ginny couldn't bring herself to do that and so she took in a shaking breath. Luna had never known what Hermione had been through; she had not known the sacrifices that had been made and how Draco Malfoy had been involved. It was best now that she never know.

"I don't know," she lied.

The silence fell between them and they could hear the muffled sound of the children in the other room.

As she took in another breath feeling guilty about lying to Luna the other woman made her forget the guilt.

"How could you abandon her like that? After everything that this Alliance is doing and everything that we are fighting for?"

Something in Luna's plaintive, aching tone made Ginny snap inside and whirling on her friend, the red-haired witch advanced with menace.

"Don't you ever say that again," she hissed, tears springing into her brown eyes and running down her face. They burned the way tears should never have burned.

Luna blanched.

"G-Ginny, I'm sorry…it's-it's not how I meant it! I know you wouldn't abandon her. I'm just...it's just frustration-"

"Don't you dare accuse me of abandoning her! I told you, it was her choice! You can't force someone to do something they don't want! Don't you see? She didn't want this!"

With that, Ginny fled the room, swiping at her tears of loss and pain. Luna was left standing in bewilderment. But she was not a woman prone to helplessness and she quickly rushed through the opposite doorway, heading towards her next destination.

Blaise realized that he had been acting like a right, oblivious arse the weeks after rescuing Lavender from Malfoy's alienage. In some ways he was cognizant of his own strange behavior and in other ways he was helpless to be any other way.

He had finally been reunited with the one woman who had made his dismal existence worth living. Once more he had been in her presence, familiarized with her warm, gentle embrace and touched again by the warmth that she had always been able to create with just her smile. He had dreamed too many cold, empty dreams of holding her, hopeless that it would ever come to pass. And then, finally, she had been in his arms again soft and small, her beautiful eyes trembling with tears, and her full mouth whispering love that she had never stopped feeling for him even in their worst moments, that night in the flat when he had run out on her in fear and anger.

They were together again, reunited. Just the two of them and the product of the love that had been so forbidden and disgusting in the eyes of the new Ministry. There had been nothing to compare to the moment that Lavender had once more gazed upon her daughter. There had been nothing to describe the joy and love he had seen in her eyes and thus felt reflected in his heart.

And as Luna Scamander stared at him with accusing, blue-gray eyes, Blaise knew he would never give up what he had just found. No matter what.

"If we aren't united in this, then what do we have?" she was saying, her voice a hoarse whisper.

Blaise had instructed Lavender to go to their room and take Daisy with her; it was a strange thing he knew, but somehow he refused to let anyone else near his little family. It was what it was.

"I never said we weren't united!"

"Then what happened to Hermione? Why did anyone allow her to abandon us? What if something happens-"

He lifted up his hand to interrupt, his face a blank slate apart from eyes that snapped with barely contained anxiousness and irritation. He didn't want this, not now. He wanted to be alone again and with his family.

"Nothing will," he replied and for a moment his thoughts turned to Draco Malfoy, wherever he was.

He, too, was with the woman he loved even if the Ministry had denied him that. He hadn't seen the other man for weeks now; he hadn't seen him since fleeing the alienage and never looking back. Blaise wondered if that made him a traitor; he had gotten his family and hadn't thought about anything since.

"And how do you know that?" demanded Luna, her eyes widening. "She's been missing for weeks and what about Draco? Without him where would we be? He's been contacting us this past week and you haven't done a thing to try and reach him!"

Blaise stood, unmoving. Reaching Draco would mean going back, facing the city and possible capture by the Ministry. Before being reunited with Lavender that had seemed like nothing; but now, Blaise had his family and he refused…simply refused to put that into jeopardy. He had nearly lost it all once, he would not do it again.

"It…is complicated."

Luna's eyes narrowed and she saw right through his words.

"No, it's not. It's you being selfish."

This time, it was she who left the room, fleeing quickly, wanting to be away from the hideout, away from these people around her who were seemingly happy but whose facades were slowly cracking under the pressure and the unknown that they were facing.

How can we win this war if we can't come together?

Nothing answered her.