I hope everyone had a lovely holiday! I wish you all a happy new year as well. And thank you for all your reviews and joining me on this writing journey. In this installment Dramione finally escape! And we get a bit more insight into why Neville is where he is. Enjoy. The next arc of this story is coming and I don't know what you will all think about it. Until next time!

LCailan

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Neville and Luna sat on one of the overstuffed sofas in the tearoom of the Frank and Alice Memorial Medical Center watching steam billow out of their mugs of hot chocolate. Neither had said much on the way back from the train station but that wasn't unusual. In fact, Neville rather liked their comfortable silences; he had never been one to talk much and Luna understood that. She understood a lot of things which is what had made her a good friend.

His heart winced a little at the thought and he took a sip of his beverage to cover up his sudden discomfort. Even one marriage, two children and a world of time hadn't really helped ease the stinging ache of rejection. He had been Neville the friend, the classmate, the confidante, but never the lover.

He stole a glance at her from the corner of his eye as he took another hot swallow.

"Something's wrong isn't it?"

The softness of his voice was magnified by the silence in the room around them. It was late and most of the patients were asleep in their rooms on the floors above them. Visiting hours were not until daylight and so the tearoom was completely empty except for them.

Luna glanced at Neville then and pursed her lips.

"No, I don't really think so," she began with hesitance. Neville sensed much in her tone; she sounded confused and worried and more than a bit disturbed.

"You don't think so?" he questioned in a gentle manner, offering an ear in case she needed it without actually saying so.

He set down his mug and then ran a scarred hand through messy brown hair, his eyes trained on Luna who was biting her lip thoughtfully as she ran one finger around the rim of her mug. She took a breath and then let it out.

"It's just…the Alliance, you know? Lately I feel like there's no unity anymore. I'm afraid that we won't meet the goal we were hoping to if we're focused on…other things."

Neville paused, searching for the right thing to say. He didn't think of the WERA much; he wondered often if he had made the wrong choice in moving to Wales and starting the hospital. Perhaps they had needed him on the front lines just like they had needed him at Hogwarts.

"Other things?" he echoed then the words a prompt for her to continue.

"We're all tense, you know? Like there's something hanging over us that we can't quite get rid of. My father always told me that if you let the Nargles-"

Neville patiently interrupted Luna with a touch of his hand and then he spoke.

"Luna, the Nargles won't make everyone crazy," he assured, his tone one of understanding. He had long ago gotten used to Luna's often bizarre ways of thinking and now even found her nonsensical rambling endearing because it reminded him of happier times at school.

Now she turned away, her cheeks flushing a bit.

"I know but it's just that we're all fighting amongst each other and I worry."

Neville reached across to her and then their linked hands swung easily in the space between them. Hers was as pale as her long, wispy hair and soft gray eyes and his was scarred with memories of the last several years.

"Stop worrying then," he advised. "It's difficult as it is."

"But you don't know what I've seen."

"You know I understand," he reminded her. "I've seen my share of pain and death, Luna. And you and I both know that the best way to fight the Ministry is to have faith. They want us to feel helpless and crush whatever life is still left in us. But we can't let them do that."

Luna watched Neville for a moment, the way his eyes seemed to light up from within as he grew determined and always the endless faith he had in their cause. In some ways he was still the untouched boy that she had known at Hogwarts, faithful and loyal to his friends and what he believed in.

Luna's warm fingers squeezed Neville's tightly and he felt a flurry of comfort settle upon him in the silence of the room. Soon enough the hot chocolate was gone and the night had grown quite late.

"We can apparate to my flat unless you'd rather just stay here?" he offered glancing at her in the semi-darkness. Luna offered a smile, seeing his face lined with weariness.

"You look tired tonight," she replied. "Why don't we stay here?"

He had a visitor's quarter; it wasn't much, just a few rooms with beds and a few shelves for belongings but both of them were too tired to want to go anywhere right then and the snow had started coming down harder.

After Neville left her to change into her nightclothes, Luna padded along the floor in her bare feet towards the window which offered the blue and white light of the night sky and the faded moon in the distance. She gazed on it for a moment and got the distinct feeling that something was happening. Something good.

The flakes that fell from the burdened night sky were thick and white. They glittered much like stars in the lightening, early morning sky. As the trio hurried along the most obscure and shaded corners of London, sometimes it was so heavy one couldn't see. No one had spoken since they had fled the Ministry; the only focus was getting away from London as quickly as possible and never, ever turning around to see if they were being pursued.

Draco had taken up the lead moving through the tight spaces and littered, wet ground as quickly as he could by the weak light of his wand. Hermione had followed closely her pale, dirty face a mask of determination. And Pansy had flanked the rear her wand at the ready. They all wore the look of being pulled too far, pushed too hard and desperate to escape whatever personal hells that they were facing. None of them had to speak; they all knew the dire situation they were in.

Once near the river, Draco stopped partly because he didn't know where to go next and partly because he felt like his lungs would not take another aching breath of icy air. As he stopped the pain that he had ignored crashed against him full force and a moan escaped his lips as he bent over helplessly.

"Draco, we can't stop now," hissed Pansy, her voice ragged and breathless.

Beyond the alley they stood in, the river flowed swiftly between two gray banks covered with dirt and ice. No one was about this early hour and she was glad for it. The only response either woman got was the choked sound of Draco's breathing.

Hermione's heart raced as if she were running for her life even minutes after they had stopped moving. No matter how she tried to calm herself, her heart refused to stop pounding. As the world lightened around them, Hermione glanced at Pansy who stood rigidly to her left. Her dark hair was a stark contrast to the drawn, clay covered face that it framed and Pansy's dark blue eyes seemed almost black in the dim light.

This is the woman, the situation I betrayed those who care about me for?

The guilt sought to terrify and destroy her.

Hermione shuddered recalling once more the helplessness and fear she had felt the hot summer day so long ago. She felt the heat and heard the cruel beauty of Pansy's laughter. She remembered the pain. She could even see the white scars in her mind's eye, the memory of that day forever painted into her flesh.

But she saved you!

Did that negate all the horrid things she had done? Did this one moment, this act of saving grace absolve her of her sins? Was that why she had done it?

Hermione watched as if riveted while Pansy knelt in the fresh snowfall, reaching towards Draco and muttering something under her breath. It was some sort of charm for it helped him breathe easier and once more Hermione was floored by the sense of selflessness in a woman who had never shown anyone her heart. She was cruel and hateful but underneath it all was a heart capable of fierce loyalty and a love beyond that which Hermione had known before.

She couldn't kill me. She saved my life. All because she loves Draco as I do. She would give up her hopes to keep him alive. Send him away to make sure that he was safe. Could I do such a thing? Could anyone? Has she paid for her sins? Has Draco? Have I? Have any of us?

Hot tears burned behind her closed eyelids as Hermione took in a shaky breath and when she opened her eyes, Pansy was helping Draco to his unsteady feet. Wordlessly, Hermione stepped forward, reaching to hold his icy, wet hand.

"She's right," she emphasized, gazing at his ashen face. Draco only nodded, teeth chattering violently as he tried to speak.

The wind rattled through the alleyway as Pansy stepped forward.

"It's the holidays," she said without emotion. "The Market will be full and busy. Everyone tends to do their shopping last minute."

She turned to her companions her face white with determination.

"You can blend in," she finished knowingly. "Find someone leaving the city and get a ride. Don't apparate or use the Floo. Who knows where the Ministry has their hands and ears."

Luna knew that everyone loved Neville; there was little to dislike. Patients at the Memorial Medical Clinic came in frightened and alone and there was something about the short, a bit too heavy and yet somehow endearingly charming Healer that won everyone's heart. He had a gentle way of speaking that calmed his patients. He had a sunny disposition which helped the sick find a silver lining amidst their pain and suffering. Indeed, he taught by example for he never once complained about the obvious scarring that marred his skin or allowed himself misery over the limp that encumbered his measured gait. He was a man with a laugh like honey, the smile of an angel but the fierce determination of someone who had seen it all – both joy and devastation.

Luna knew without a doubt that Neville would have taken Harry Potter's place, would have also fulfilled the prophecy had he needed to. There was no doubt in her mind to the courage that Neville possessed though it was hidden behind a warm yet meek smile and covered by boundless humility. He downplayed his importance in many small ways; he never admitted to doing anything but what was necessary although he had gone over and above the call of duty more than once.

Luna knew that some of her happiest memories since the Ministry had fallen to the Dark Lord had been spent in the company of dear Neville. The man who had always loved her in spite of her decision to be with another.

Rolf had been the most brilliant, kindest man she had ever known and her decision to marry him had been one of the most certain ones she had ever made in spite of her confusion about Neville. In the end Luna knew she had made the right choice and each night she said a prayer for her deceased husband in hopes that he was somewhere safe and happy.

And that's what she was suddenly thinking about the following morning as she watched Neville lean over one of his patients, talking to the older gentleman softly as he worked to clean a rather gaping wound along his right thigh which was spewing a foul, green substance. She thought perhaps it had been some sort of cutting curse. That was another thing about Neville; when he was short staffed never was there a day that he wouldn't push up his sleeves and work just as hard as those who worked for him.

Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away feeling slightly embarrassed. What would she say if he caught her acting like a silly little girl? Instead of wanting to face that, Luna quickly began to gather up the soiled bandages and put them in a plastic tub to be washed later. Neville turned from his patient and gave her a smile.

"Ready? I've got loads to show you," he said with eagerness to his voice.

Luna smiled, nodded and they made their way across the large sick room to the double wooden doors that led to the corridor. Here they were alone and she watched Neville as he strode slowly and carefully to their next destination. The hospital was clean and bright, with high, vaulted ceilings and large windows in every corridor. Neville had designed it right down to the tiny details. He knew his mother had liked large, brightly lit rooms and his father had favored the orderly. He had encompassed both of his late parents' tastes and had built the building with such things in mind. Luna thought it was brilliant; she had loved spending time there, outside of England and London, away from the Alliance and the death and violence. Sometimes she felt guilty for many a moment she had hoped to sneak away to Wales forever, taking Lorcan and Lysander with her no matter how she was needed elsewhere. Because she had been unable to understand her weaknesses she had assumed it was the wrackspurts trying to attack her brain. It happened all the time, after all.

"You've got something on your mind."

Again, the conversation from the night before.

Neville's voice echoed along the marbled corridor as they moved slowly towards the stairs. Beyond large wooden doors sounds could be heard – the shuffling of shoes and the muted music of voices. Sometimes coughing and crying and other times moans. The sounds melted into a cacophonic chorus. Luna started at the sound of his voice.

"Not quite," she replied with a half smile, tolerating the questioning.

Turning, she saw Neville wince as he resumed his steady, slow gait. Some mornings Luna recalled his walk almost normal, but others, like that morning, it was evident that his leg was giving him a load of trouble.

"You really want to know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking you ought to see a really brilliant Healer about that leg."

Her voice was a tone away from chastisement but it only made Neville smile.

"You forget that I AM the most brilliant Healer in Wales," came his joking response. "And I say I'm just peachy."

Luna rolled her gray eyes and glared at him with gentle reproach even as Neville waved away her constant concern.

"Luna, it was a curse gone badly. It could have been worse; I could be dead and I'm not. I refuse to dwell on what happened. Besides, my strawberry plants just came in and I have this brilliant idea on using them in a potion I read about last month."

But even though he kept up a constant flow of light conversation as he led Luna up to the next floor where he kept his ingredients and spent much of his time in research, Neville could not help thinking that she had touched on a raw nerve. Life was truly unfair. There he was willing to help the Alliance and relegated to playing the Healer. After all, who wanted a man with a gimp leg?

The elderly gentleman stepped down from the cab of a massive truck that was delivering supplies at the Market. All around them there were people milling about. Some were making last minute holiday purchases and others moving at a more leisurely, aimless pace. But Pansy had been right; there were too many people here and it was a perfect place for someone to blend it and be unnoticed.

Nevertheless, they had managed to wrap Hermione in a long black cloak and Pansy had cast a bedazzlement charm in case someone from the Ministry had chosen to come shopping. Given the dire situation, there was only a slim chance of such a thing happening but Draco refused to take a chance.

"We need a ride out of the city if you could," Draco began, hoping he didn't sound desperate. The Muggle driver scratched his head.

"Well, I reckon that's fine," he said. "I'm going a ways out north. I'll take you as far as I'm going."

Hermione's heart soared; the man's words sounded like salvation. She was leaving London! She was going to be free! Was it possible? Her heart leapt and began to race within her as she watched a smile light up Draco's face. It was the first time she had seen him smile in what seemed like forever although it hadn't been nearly that long.

"Thank you!"

The older Muggle nodded and offered his own smile in return.

"I'll be leaving soon but my truck will be parked just there," he offered, pointing towards the river behind the Market where other trucks could be seen.

"Right then," agreed Draco and Hermione noted that his wan face had flushed with brilliant color. He turned to the two women standing behind him.

"Come on," he urged, reaching to link his slightly trembling fingers with Hermione's. Pansy took in the simple action marveling at how natural it seemed; Draco holding the Mudblood's hand. It broke her heart but she consoled herself with the fact that this was it. She had done what she knew was right but the road ended for her here.

"Go," she struggled to say. Draco's excitement phased into a mild confusion.

He offered his hand to Pansy with tentativeness. She shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin, white line. Draco noted her vehemence and the earlier rush of exuberance was gone now.

"You're coming with us, yeah?"

His words were uncertain.

"You know I can't go."

"What? Are you mental? You can't stay here!"

"London is my home."

"No, London is Hell!"

Draco took a cautious step towards Pansy because she looked like a wild animal about ready to bolt. She had always hated to be cornered. Not that he could blame her.

"Look," he said intently. "What you and I…everything that's happened before and after the Ministry…you and I…"

She stopped him with a brusque movement of her hand.

"I won't change my mind, Draco. London is home. The Ministry is-"

She hesitated and found herself loathing Draco for the way he was searching her face. There was nothing to do but be honest.

"I saved your life. I can't live in a world where you don't exist. But that never had anything to do with how I feel about the Ministry. I belong here."

"They'll destroy you!" he exclaimed. Draco's voice tinged on desperation and never in the whole wide world had he believed he'd care so much about what Pansy would do and where she would go.

"There's not much of me left," came her reply and it was strange and lacking denial.

Draco stared at the woman with whom he had sometimes been friends with, other times had loathed, one he had admired and yet one whom he had found impossibly irritating. He realized that this would be the last time he would see her. He refused to lie to himself; his decision to leave London and everything he knew and understood behind was a final one. Once he turned around he would never turn back.

"You can't stay here," he said weakly, blinking against a torrent of emotion that begged to swallow him. At first she only stared but then the faint lines of a wry smile played upon her defeated face.

"And I can't go with you."

She reached up, cupping her roughened hands around his face.

"You go. Do what you have to do; it's all any of us can do. I did what I could but now it's up to you to get out of here."

There was no fear in her face, no emotion that he could read clearly. Behind him the rest of the world began to return in small, short bursts of sound. Yells. Laughter. Beeping of horns. The sound of shoppers.

"Once they figure out what's going on they're going to come after you."

"No, they won't. They want you. They're after you."

She offered another sad smile.

"You and that silly heart of yours," she finished with a sigh of longing. It was futile to keep hoping for the hopeless and for a life that could have been so different! Each moment spent with him like that hurt more and more, knowing they would all too soon have no more time. She took a breath searching his face. It was one of surprise and disbelief. For the first time Pansy felt like he was looking at her and not just through her. She wasn't just an annoyance to be dealt with but someone who mattered and perhaps even…

No. Hope was futile.

"I love you," she whispered, her hands dropping back down to her sides. "Take care. And get out of here," she urged just as a gust of wind swept along the street they stood on making people around them grumble and shout out in surprise or annoyance. "They'll never stop coming after you but at least this way you have a head start."

The driver returned gave them a tip of his hat to let them know it was time, and Draco realized now was goodbye. Her words rang in his mind.

"I know."

His words were uttered with utmost sincerity.

"And if you only knew how much this meant to me, Pansy, you'd come with us."

She stepped away, tears filling her eyes.

"Take care, Draco."

She spared a glance for the brunette standing at his side; there was the woman he loved.

"Be happy."

The words were choked and tearful and she clenched her fists around the cloak she wore to ward off not just the cold but the pain that came with saying goodbye. He offered a halting, faint smile and it was this which Pansy memorized before turning and fleeing along the wet, snow-covered cobbled pathway. She forced herself to stop thinking over what she had just lost and focus on getting back to the Ministry before Bellatrix awoke.

Pansy was swallowed up by the crowd almost immediately.

Draco stood watching her disappear feeling something inside of him drain and go empty. He wasn't sure what it was; he wasn't even sure he understood what she had just done for him and what she had given up. He was statue still while life went on around him without pause. Suddenly he felt Hermione's hand slip into his.

"We have to go, Draco," she was whispering and he woodenly nodded, turning to face her. She led the way for somehow Draco's body refused to do what he wanted it to and with her help he made his way along the edge of the Market towards the shipping dock.

Bellatrix Lestrange rolled over on the wet, dirty ground and fumbled for her wand. She missed the first two times but then her fingers clamped around its small, cool length.

"Lumos," she croaked out and the shadowy space was filled with light. Her head was pounding and she was having trouble recalling where she had been and what she had been doing that morning. Only that it had to do with…

"Malfoy!" she screeched, stumbling ungracefully to her feet. That was when she noticed the fallen woman to her side. It was Pansy Parkinson.

Pansy stirred as if just awakened by the shrill screech of her monstrous boss. She opened an eye and let out a convincing groan, rolling over on the wet ground. She closed her eyes again willing herself not to panic and to remain calm. As if bent on rebellion, her heart started up a furious rhythm within her.

"Get up! Get up, you silly, worthless wench! Reducto!"

Pansy rolled out of the way of the blast with unpracticed and natural grace and managed to get to her feet to face her half-mad boss. Bellatrix's eyes seemed to glow even in such low lighting.

"What happened? What did we miss? WHERE IS MALFOY?"

Pansy glanced up wordlessly, her eyes wide as she watched the other witch. She was now pacing the dungeon corridor. her black hair a mess of abandon around a white face colored with hatred.

"FENRIR!"

Pansy stopped herself from pointing out the fact that Fenrir lay in the same corridor just near the cell where they had been keeping Granger. He had been dealt the same fate as his boss. As Bellatrix brushed past Pansy rounding the corner with another cry of rage at the discovery of the wolf-man's body she looked towards the cell windows in the distance hoping that this would buy Draco the time he needed to get away from London for good.

Within minutes of awakening in the Ministry dungeons, Bellatrix Lestrange ordered the Floo Network shut down. Within hours, she had managed to put a trace on all those using unregistered broomsticks and Apparition without direct permission from the Ministry's Department of Transportation. And before the end of the day, all unregistered or suspected Portkeys being used within the city of London were confiscated. Bellatrix used all the manpower she had at her disposal and worked those in her employ for hours without rest to ensure that no wizard or witch left the city without her knowledge. She was deathly determined to find Draco and put an end to all his nonsense.

Sadly, or perhaps not so sadly, the one she searched for sat in the back of a Muggle delivery truck holding hands with the woman he loved and escaping without using any magic at all. The Ministry, believing that no pureblood witch or wizard would lower themselves to the level of a Muggle, never saw it coming. And so the two escaped London in silence, in the darkness and in fear of what lay before them.

Even in the midst of winter Neville had a special touch; the strawberry plants that grew in his makeshift greenhouse were as beautiful as the fruits of June. They were large and red with beautiful green stems.

Luna marveled at their beauty as her fingers ran over the leaves with a gentle touch.

"They're beautiful enough to eat," she told him with a smile.

"You eat one and I'll curse you. Jelly-legs for three days," he warned though his eyes sparkled with mirth. "Just wait until you read the article that I found in the Medical Journal-"

Neville stopped only because he saw the look of reprimand on Luna's face; she was gazing on him the way she used to when her boys had been younger and gotten into trouble. Though he knew that she was only trying to be a good friend somehow her meddling irritated Neville that morning. Usually he dealt with matters better but on that morning his patience was thin.

He spoke in a voice that was unusually tense.

"Look. I'm not going to talk about what's bothering me, all right?"

He couldn't, he realized. Moving towards the window, Neville peered out onto the well-kept, winding drive that led up to his hospital and sighed. Even though he knew he was helping in some way it wasn't what he had hoped for. He had hoped that he'd have been on the front lines just like he had been at Hogwarts, with Harry, Ron and Hermione. He had felt like someone then, he had felt useful and…

Now I'm bloody handicapped and can barely stand up to a pixie let alone the Ministry!

Frowning, Neville refused to move because he knew if he turned there would be Luna, hoping to offer her support and kind words…which he didn't want. She wasn't the one who had to stop fighting. She wasn't the one who had trouble walking. She wasn't the one who-

Neville wanted time to stop. He wanted to rewind it to before the first battle after Hogwarts had fallen so that he had never gotten hit with the curse that had maimed him for life. The blasted curse that had left him unable to continue life the way he would have wanted.

Maybe he was good at Herbology and that Healing is what he had been called to do but not yet, not until everything had been settled! The hospital, his work, and the love he had for what he did…sometimes it felt like a prison he would never break free of. He felt trapped between the four walls he had built in memory of his parents.

And I'm nothing like them. I'm a coward and it isn't my choice!

Behind him, he heard Luna's quiet footsteps.

"I had a vision last night," she said. "Like Professor Trelawney used to have?"

Neville offered a tolerant sigh. Hearing Luna's half-brained predictions was better than feeling her sympathy.

"Did you?" he asked thinly.

"Things are going to change," she said with a quiet confidence in her own words. Neville turned to gaze on Luna and she wore the familiar, faraway smile that he had learned to love.

"For better or worse? I hate to ask," he muttered in reply. Luna's gray eyes swiveled in his direction.

"I think with all changes there's good and bad."

He thought about this and ended up agreeing with her. Then, Luna put her hand on his for a brief moment.

"I'm sorry you're hurting."

"I'm not," he chose to reply quickly. "I'm just frustrated and I feel so…stuck. It's like this is all there ever will be. This hospital and my choice and the accident…"

And maybe Luna ended up being right about the hurting part too. Because he did hurt. It wasn't the same kind of hurt that persecution and evil had created in the new world. But it was still hurt.

Neville took a breath and then his stiff body relaxed against the large window. His face was sad.

"So what do we do now?"

Luna gave him a small, knowing smile.

"We just wait."

And they did, as the hospital and life slipped by them quietly for awhile.