A little tidbit – I started writing this story six months ago today. Crazy! You guys have been so awesome, sticking with me from the beginning and seeing this monster story through! I am always amazed that still new readers are joining. In this segment, Dramione find hope in a stranger. Oh, and in case any readers were wondering what is happening to some of the Weasleys that are still alive, this chapter introduces a few new characters. Enjoy!

LCailan

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

The darkness of the delivery truck and the steady sound of the wheels had lulled Draco and Hermione into a strange, dreamless sleep. For Draco it was quite fitful and he would jump awake every so often believing that the Ministry, Bellatrix or Fenrir had found them in spite of their sacrifices and efforts and that this time…this time it was the end.

But each time he opened his eyes, startled, all he would see was Hermione next to him and the rumbling sound of the truck as it took them away from the city and towards the border of England. Try as he might he wasn't able to convince himself that they were safe. Nor could he get Pansy's words out of his mind.

They'll never stop coming after you but at least this way you have a head start…

A sinking feeling assaulted him for Draco knew that it was the truth; the Ministry would always be after him. In some way, somehow.

Hermione will never be safe. Not so long as she's with me, and I can't have her live life this way!

As if she was awakened by his tumultuous thoughts, Hermione groaned. The truck slowed and then came to a stop. The wiry-haired Muggle driver came around the back and opened the door letting in a faint sliver of white, winter light.

"This is the end of the road," he announced. Draco winced at the invasion of light just as the man pointed towards what looked like a small village.

"It's rather a small town and mostly merchants, you know. Won't be much going on with Christmas just over but I'm sure there's someone who'll take you in," he offered with a faint smile. Taking Hermione's hand he nodded wordlessly in agreement. Then he motioned to Hermione.

"I gave you the money, didn't I?" he whispered feeling uncomfortable at knowing nothing about Muggle currency. She nodded, handing the driver a few folded bills of money. The man took it with another smile and then bid them farewell before driving up the small road and then turning into a side alley.

The snow fell thinly around them and for a moment there was only silence.

"Look," she said then, pointing towards the center of the tiny town. She sounded almost bewitched. "I haven't seen one of those in ages."

Draco turned towards where she pointed and in the center of the village stood a tall, simply dressed Christmas tree. The pine had been bedecked with colored lights and large, ornate looking glass ornaments. He watched her face for he was standing so close he could see the lights reflected in her eyes. He had taken his tree back in Kensington for granted all those years, he realized. It was just something else that was the norm; it would be up right before Christmas and down right after the New Year. He had ignored it most years except for the year that Scorpius had turned two. That's what Hermione reminded him of, Draco realized. She had the same child-like amazement that he had seen in Scorpius that long-ago Christmas. He watched the tree shiver in the night breeze allowing the marvelous sight to distract him from the fears that were fast catching up to him.

"Come on then," he said thinly, pulling her by the hand as they neared the tree, their footsteps crunching in the icy snow.

Up close it was ever more magnificent.

"I'm ashamed," he admitted then. Hermione's eyes turned to his face quizzically.

"About?"

"Taking something like this for granted."

She nodded wordlessly but he didn't feel like she was judgmental or resentful.

"I guess this won't come as a surprise but Ron and I never had a tree. We never had a home so I guess…that's to be expected."

Her words were small and muffled against the thickness of is cloak. Draco shifted so she could tuck in against him and then tightened the heavy wool against her to shield her from the cold.

"We'll have one," he decided without hesitation. "A glorious one, with red, gold and silver all over it."

When he gazed down at her, Hermione was looking up at him, her eyes glimmering and her cheeks flushed from the cold. She looked breathtaking.

"White lights," she said softly.

"And every ornament imaginable," he promised. "And loads of boxes underneath just like on those greeting cards."

Hermione's smile was one of peace. It shattered his sense of fear if only for a brief moment and his hold on her tightened albeit imperceptibly. He never wanted to let her go; he feared he would have to, but he'd hold on as long as he possibly could.

"Presents don't matter so much," she told him knowingly.

"It's good you think so. Christmas has come and gone and I've certainly gotten you nothing."

Hermione thought she saw a hint of his smirk and realized how much she had missed it. With a half smile she reached up stroke his face.

"I think I can forgive you this one time," she replied. "And I'll have you make it up."

Draco sighed.

"For the rest of my life, I promise."

"Well, start now," She whispered leaning up so that he could see himself reflected in the endless depths of her eyes. "Kiss me."

He complied, closing the small distance between them and losing himself for a few moments in the woman he loved. The kiss, however sweet, ended abruptly when Draco jumped, feeling a shiver run down his back.

"Draco what-"

He hushed her, turning around and saw one of the shadows along the edge of the town square move.

"Who's there?"

In the silence he could feel his heart trembling. They were caught. It was over.

They'll never stop coming for you but at least you-

"Who are you?"

The voice wasn't what Draco had expected; it wasn't the throaty one of his aunt or the rattling, gruff one of Fenrir. Instead, the voice sounded like one that belonged to a-

"Come now, speak!"

She emerged from the shadows, a small woman wrapped in a thick coat and a shawl wrapped tightly around her roundish face. She stood shorter than Hermione and walked with a slow, measured gait.

She was older, he realized, and with that Draco found the courage to speak.

"We're…only passing through."

His tone was wary; he had lost whatever Malfoy pride that had once existed. After all, in this world your name no longer mattered if you didn't align yourself with the Ministry. The only name that mattered was the one the Dark Lord chose to call himself.

The unnamed woman stopped and peered up into Draco's face. She looked kind and as if to spite her odd walk, her face was surprisingly unlined and youthful looking.

"Are you now?"

Draco could not find the words the reply; he was terrified of anyone whom he didn't know. She motioned towards the alley from which she had come.

"Come on, then. I've got a place for you two."

"We-"

"You'd rather get caught out here?"

"Caught?"

"Son, I've been around a time or two. You look as scared as a church mouse. Besides, you came in with Tobias' latest delivery and he comes from London. Brings all sort of folk through this town. We're used to visitors."

Draco, still feeling uncomfortable, pulled Hermione closer and cleared his throat, avoiding the woman's knowing look. Something about her was unnerving and he felt himself growing tenser. Hermione's body against his was also poised to make a run for it if necessary.

"I told you we're only passing through," he repeated in a voice barely audible.

"Even folks passing through have need of rest and a warm bowl of soup," she offered. Then she gave him a furtive wink. "Unless…you're running from someone?"

Draco and Hermione remained silent, not daring to say a word. After all, evil had an uncanny way of often wearing a cloak of kindness.

"The Ministry, perhaps?"

A sound escaped Draco; it sounded like a wheeze and he thought he might choke on his own breath. His heart began galloping.

"You know about the Ministry?" he hissed feeling Hermione jump against him. "Then you're…"

She smiled.

"A witch?" she provided with another, knowing smile. "Is that such a surprise then? Especially since you're one of us, too."

Draco's eyes were wide.

"I just never thought…"

"A wizarding family in a Muggle village you mean? Why, my boy, haven't you ever heard of Godric's Hollow?"

Draco winced as he suddenly thought about Potter. And next to him, Hermione's body trembled violently but she never said a word. If the witch noticed she did not mention it.

"In this day and age you live where you can," she said quickly. "Muggles are quiet. I found peace here. My husband found work. We settled here just after the Ministry fell in England, you know. Thought it was best to get out of dodge before all hell broke loose. Before that I had to face the Ministry's Muggle-born Registration Commission six times! Blessed be but I had enough!"

Hermione and Draco still could find no strength to reply to her even though the woman had a kind voice and even kinder eyes.

"Come, you must be hungry and I've got just the thing, I wager."

Motioning once more towards the alleyway in the snowy distance, she began to walk and this time, Draco and Hermione followed her.

It wasn't as much a house as it was a very plain hovel. The living quarters consisted of three rooms and a tiny loo towards the back. But everything was in its place and the rooms were filled with a warm, welcoming light. A delightful fragrance hit their noses as they entered through the wooden front door.

The woman walked in ahead of them and began to pull off her scarf and long cloak.

"I've made pea soup and bread so it's not much but I'm sure it'll hit the spot."

She turned to them and offered another smile. For a moment when she had seen the woman walk towards them in the darkness outside, Hermione had flashed back to the night with Harry at Godric's Hollow and Bathilda Bagshot's reanimated corpse. The unnamed woman had seemed much, much older than she looked now. In the light she looked about her own parents' age and her wiry hair had only dustings of gray while her face although slightly withered was still touched with youth.

"Come, sit!" she urged. "I'll get you both something to eat."

Fear gripped both of them and stubbornly refused to relinquish hold of their hearts in spite of the warmth and delicious smell that surrounded them. The witch noticed this and stopped moving towards the kitchen, turning slowly.

"Where are my manners? Merlin's beard! I'm Victoria Fawcett. My husband is Bernie but he'll be coming home from work in the morning."

Hermione wanted to return the kindness that was being offered to her but she was too terrified that this would be another blow against her and she wasn't sure she could handle it. She was nearly crippled as it was. Instead she could only gaze on the woman hoping that she understood what fear was.

Draco was the first to speak.

"I'm…my family's Malfoy," he offered cautiously.

Victoria Fawcett remained silent for a moment, hovering between the doorway of the tiny living room and the kitchen beyond. Then she nodded with understanding.

"So you're Draco, Lucius' boy, are you?"

His eyes widened with shock.

"You know my…knew my father?" he whispered.

"Dear boy, I knew of your father. Didn't everyone? He was always involved with everything, we read about him in the Prophet all the time, we did. And my daughter spoke of you," she finished, her lips twitching just a bit. "She was a bit older than you, if I remember correctly and she was sorted into Ravenclaw House."

The smile appeared again making her look splendidly young.

"Your daughter went to Hogwarts?" Draco echoed stupidly.

Victoria nodded with patience.

"Susan Fawcett. Perhaps you knew-"

It was Hermione who interrupted, pushing the cloak she had been clutching around her face away with her excitement.

"She was a brilliant Quidditch player! I remember! Harry said she flew better than Ron but I didn't believe it-"

Victoria laughed.

"Aye, it is true," she said, her eyes twinkling only for a moment. "And what a small world it is, isn't it? Two former Hogwarts students! If only Susan were here."

She frowned just a bit but soon was smiling once more though this time it was evasive. Neither Hermione nor Draco asked any questions, however.

"Now come, you two must be famished!"

The two sat at the rickety table and Victoria bustled around them eagerly, serving up steaming bowls of soup with thick, warm slices of bread alongside.

"Go on then, tuck in."

They did and Hermione thought it was the best meal she had ever tasted. For a few moments there was nothing but the howling of the wind and the sound of spoon against bowl. When they were nearly finished Victoria stood up slowly.

"Why don't I go and get a space cleared out in the back of the house for you two to sleep, yes?"

Hermione glanced up at the older woman her eyes filling with tears. She fought against them but it was nearly impossible because she hadn't been shown such kindness in years and Victoria Fawcett was so much like Molly Weasley that it hurt.

"I-we…couldn't impose like this," she muttered. "You'll get in trouble. We should go!"

She jumped to her feet like a skittish rabbit.

"Nonsense! What trouble?"

"I'm Muggle-born, you see."

The words were broken and Hermione felt hot tears of shame rolling down her face. She hated herself for crying and even more so over something like her blood status!

"Child, don't cry! It's nothing to be ashamed of as far as I'm concerned," said Victoria though her face had grown shadowed and the warmth was gone now. "It doesn't matter, does it? We're all the same."

The tears did not stop and finally Draco wrapped his arms around Hermione afraid that she would push him away. She did not, instead clinging to him as she wept. Victoria stepped closer, patting Hermione's wild, chestnut-colored curls for a few moments.

"There, there, dear girl."

She motioned towards the living room.

"Help me get her in there and I can rustle up some calming draught. Bernie fancied himself a Healer back in the day," she chuckled. "I bet I've got something to calm her down in the cellar."

Victoria returned within moments clutching a small flask to her bosom.

"Here," she offered the potion as Hermione sat trembling on the couch. She took the light colored potion easily enough and within moments her trembling ceased.

Draco sat holding her hand for a few moments and she remained strangely cool in spite of the hot soup they had just eaten, but he felt a bit comforted by the fact that she had stopped crying.

"Are you all right?" he whispered, kissing her forehead. Hermione did not reply.

Victoria had left the room after giving Hermione the potion and Draco heard the shuffling of her footsteps as she returned to the living room. There was a silence and then her voice cut in.

"Come. There's not much you can do for her now."

Draco turned to see Victoria's face looking grim.

"But there is much we must talk about."

Pembrokeshire County, Wales

The front door of the cottage slammed shut behind Charlie Weasley and Angelina Johnson rushed to the window to watch him storm down the snowy lane and get swallowed up by the bare, sad looking trees.

She sighed and whispered up a prayer for his quick return but nothing answered her. Mindlessly her long fingers moved up to rest protectively over a growing belly and Angelina blinked back tears of fear and pain. The letter that Charlie had dropped on his way out of the cottage was clutched loosely in her other hand and she looked down at neat script now blurred from her tears.

She couldn't read it again but each time she tried to forget the horrid news that the missive had brought she could do nothing but cry. No wonder Charlie had stormed out of the cottage like it had been on fire! No wonder that she woke each morning feeling that the only thing growing faster than George's baby inside of her was the fear that she would lose it like she had lost everyone and everything else that had ever mattered in life. No wonder so many people had given up!

What's there to live for?

As silent tears slipped down her coffee-colored skin, Angelina dared to look down at the rumpled letter one last time before tossing it aside.

Arthur and Percy were dead. Though she hadn't seen either man in months, Angelina was shocked to know that she wouldn't ever see them again. Yes, it hurt. But it hurt more because of the pain that had been etched on Charlie's face. It hurt because the fire that had burned in his eyes died at the realization that his father and brother were dead. Just like Fred and Molly had died years before. And Bill. But the one that pained her most…

Her fingers tightened around her swollen belly. She choked back a sob.

Oh, God. George. Oh, George! I miss you! Baby misses you too!

Angelina stood, tired from her emotional cry and fearful because Charlie didn't venture too far from the cottage that stood only a few miles from the coast near St. George's Channel. He sometimes spent the days outside in spite of the cold, staring out at the wide, gray sea. Though he had been helping with foreign recruitment for the Alliance, Angelina had suspected a few months before that Charlie had silently given up the fight. George had told her so. But she herself had not…

Until God took George from me.

They sky was an odd shade of silvery white. She stared up at it for a few moments, hands pressed against the icy wood of the front door, ears perked for the tell-tale thump of Charlie's boots on the porch. But there was no sound and she wanted to cry. Slowly, Angelina slipped down to the floor curling up in a small ball and allowing herself to have yet another good cry. She could only cry like this alone; when Charlie was with her she fought to be brave because he had gone through more than she could ever imagine going through. He had lost more than she ever would.

But when she was alone, Angelina cried.

She cried because falling in love with George had been too easy. Hogwarts memories would forever be blessed and tainted with his memory, the way he had always made her laugh, the way he had loved Fred and the rest of his insanely huge family, and the way he had kissed her in the darkness long after they should have been asleep. Too many of her thoughts would always be laced with the memories of her Weasley. She could still remember the fluttery feeling of her heart and how silly she had felt after realizing how much time she spent thinking about him when he wasn't around.

So easy to love. I didn't even know.

It had been easy to admit to herself that George had been a godsend. There had never been a doubt in her heart that he was her soul mate. He had taught her how to love and how to be the woman she was now. Running off with him had been easy; loving him while the world crumbled around them even easier.

Losing him, however, was something Angelina had never prepared herself for. The feeling of free-fall while loving him, crying with him, living life and fighting for a good cause with him, caring for him while his heart broke as his family fell around him, all those things had been exhilarating for her, but the crash that had followed at his death had hurt more than anything she had ever felt in her whole life.

It seemed impossible that even Death could snuff out George's vitality and joy. There had always been something about him that shone even during the darkest times. His laughter had been like music and his smile the beacon of hope and direction in what had sometimes been a world she had gotten lost in. But Death had taken him and left her cold, heartbroken and alone. Sighing, Angelina couldn't help but think back again on everything that had led to that moment.

George had decided to leave the Alliance and seek help from Charlie who had been living in Romania. There had been no question for Angelina; she had simply followed George because she would have followed him to the ends of the earth. Neither had spoken to anyone – not Kingsley, Lee or any of them. They had simply left during the night. For weeks they had run. There had been close calls, skirmishes and then all out battles. She had fought a good fight; George had been splendid. Only-

One couldn't live forever. In all wars there were casualties. Alone and terrified, Angelina had refused to return to the Alliance and fled to Romania, intent on finishing what her George had begun. Charlie shocked and heartbroken over George's demise stayed true to his word and began to contact sources outside of Britain in hopes of strengthening a resistance movement. Romania became inconvenient for their purposes and together they had fled to the coast of Wales in a tiny town near the Channel. It was there that Angelina had found out she was pregnant. Not even Death had quelled the life that had been George Weasley.

Tears trickled down her face as she tried to stop crying and wiped her face with the backs of her trembling hands. Charlie would come back; he always did. She wouldn't cry in front of him. She couldn't.

Slowly, Angelina stood up her heart pining for the man she would never marry and the man who would never raise his baby. The sky was still the same white color but in the distance she saw Charlie approaching; his red hair was bright against the snow. She watched him almost curiously, her hands pressed against the window.

Wiping the last remnants of her tears away, Angelina moved to open the small wooden door.

"You'll freeze out there," she chastised softly.

Charlie stepped over the threshold, shaking rogue snowflakes from his flaming red waves. Though she tried to catch his eye, he refused to gaze on her and walked across their small living room leaving Angelina helpless to everything but shutting the door. The missive still lay crumbled in the corner by the window and she watched as Charlie picked it up and groaned as it disappeared in his tightening fist.

She took a step forward and then hesitated seeing the tensing of his body at the sound of her footsteps. She stopped and sighed.

"I'm so sorry, Charlie."

Perhaps it was her voice or perhaps the realization that there was nothing he could do, but at her words he turned and his face crumbled. Moving swiftly she caught him so that he would not have to weep alone.

Draco joined Victoria at the kitchen table and the silence loomed between them. It was pregnant with anticipation and nothing - not even the warmth of the room and the brilliant glow of the fire on the hearth could dispel the sudden frisson of fear that ran down his spine. The older woman's expression although still kind, had taken on a facet of seriousness.

"Sit," she offered quickly but Draco couldn't. She stood with a sigh and moved towards the doorway.

"I've got some Earl Grey. Would you like a cuppa?"

Wordlessly, Draco nodded.

In a world where pleasures were fleeting and comfort was none somehow tea sounded like a perfect indulgence. He listened while her footsteps echoed in the kitchen behind him and water ran into a kettle and was set on the stove to boil. She returned and sat back down at the old table watching him. This time she didn't offer him a seat but spoke in a low, grave tone.

"You're a wanted man."

Draco's mouth went horribly dry as he stared at Victoria. Instead of showing his growing fear he set his jaw and tried for contempt.

"Am I? And how would you know?"

If she was fazed by his false bravado it didn't show. There was only a small pause before she spoke.

"I knew your name the instant you spoke it though it wasn't just because my daughter knew you back when you were both students."

The light from the fire danced created shadows along the far wall that danced with wild abandon. Draco couldn't gaze at Victoria for he was afraid she would sense his fear. Instead he became mesmerized by the seemingly magical dance of the shadows of fire. The silence before she spoke again seemed like two lifetimes.

"I recognized your name because just this morning the Ministry was here looking for you."

Unable to look at the dancing shadows any longer, Draco turned to face Victoria.

"Who?"

"He called himself Greyback. But there were others with him."

A strange memory overcame Draco; he recalled the way he had felt as a little boy just before getting punished by his father. The fear was the same and the little boy still inside Draco wanted to sob and beg for mercy. Of course they would have had time to catch up with him; Draco had forgotten that they could Apparate. Whatever gap of time Pansy had bought him and Hermione it was fast closing in on them.

They'll always come after you but at least this way you'll have a head start.

It had been a sodding worthless head start in the end.

"Who are you, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I'm no one and who are you to think that I'd trust you enough to tell you anything?"

Somber eyes met those of Draco's who was fast approaching tears of panic.

"And what reason have you given me to trust you?"

Draco swallowed back a hateful retort.

Breathe.

She was right.

Just breathe.

The fire crackled and the water in the kitchen began to boil. Veronica disappeared for a few moments while Draco fought against waves of utter fear and rage. When she returned carrying two large mugs he took a breath.

"I turned on the Ministry," he said in a low, tense voice. It was nearly a whisper. "They suspect I did and they think that the woman with…that she's hiding something."

Veronica handed him a steaming mug without saying a word and they both looked towards the room where Hermione lay on the sofa.

"If they find her again they'll murder her. And I'll be sent to the Dementors for turning against them. We escaped London a few days ago and found our way here. I don't know what to do. I don't know who to turn to."

He looked up tearfully.

"I don't know how to protect her. As I said, I'm nobody. She's what matters to me. I need her to be safe. I don't care what happens to me."

Trembling, he took a sip of the hot brew, scalding his tongue, but the pain felt good. Veronica set aside her tea and took Draco's hand, squeezing his icy fingers in her soft, warm ones.

"And I told you I'd help you," she whispered. "I no longer believe in the Ministry and what they are trying to sell. I don't think I'm any better than anyone else just because of my blood status. Let me help you."

Draco hesitated even at that moment Victoria's offer was the only certainty.

"You might not agree with the Ministry but too many do. There's no room for disagreement, no room to be free to think as we want. There's not enough resistance and now I might never-"

He hesitated.

"She might never know what it's like to live a normal, real life. She'll be running for the rest of the life and even if she stops running they'll oppress her, and ridicule her and mock her and she doesn't deserve it! I don't know or give a sodding fart about the rest of them but I love her and I'm so terrified for her!"

Victoria sighed and then pulled Draco towards the table.

"Child, calm yourself," she ordered gently. "And stop being so hopeless! Don't you know it's that kind of attitude that gets us nowhere? Haven't you been paying attention? The resistance is rising up all through London and beyond too. There are groups forming in tiny villages all across England and even outside. Bernie is friends with a chap that lives in Wales and there are groups forming there. And then there's the WERA. Merlin's beard, everyone's heard of them! When Susan heard she left us to join the cause. I've never been more proud of her."

Draco who hated being called 'child' could only blink and wonder at the woman who sat down across from him now wearing a fond yet tearful smile. His heart twisted inside of him both with a strange sense of kinship and a sickening guilt. It was because of his own that this was happening. It was because of the Death Eaters, the Ministry and Voldemort and his twisted vision of the new world. Good people were suffering, real, flesh and blood people going hungry, being imprisoned and persecuted, dying and being murdered…

It wasn't fair.

His forearm hurt; it was a cruel reminder of exactly what side he had chosen. Maybe he had changed his mind, but nothing changed the fact that at one time he had been the cause of much pain in others. Hadn't he been cruel? Hadn't his wand murdered innocents? Hadn't he shown his bigotry and mocked others who were helpless? Yes, all those things and more. He had hurt Hermione. She had lost their baby because of his mistakes. She had-

"Draco."

Veronica's gentle voice broke into the symphony of self-hatred that played in his mind. He blinked and she offered her hand once more, wrapping it around his for a brief moment.

"You'll be safe here for the night. This is not the first time Bernie and I have helped the cause in whatever way we can. Others have come this way and gone and I pray they are safe. I'll pray for you too. Sleep here tonight and in the morrow…"

He took in a shaking breath.

"Can you help me help her?"

She nodded.

"The Ministry has little power outside of England. There is too much resistance for them to gain much ground either way but for now, Wales is safe as is Ireland. Many Muggle-borns go there until they can find their way elsewhere. I know of a place."

Draco thought of Blaise for a moment, of the promises he had made and of Neville Longbottom. Clearing his throat, the frightened man spoke in a voice that was more sure now.

"We were trying to get to Wales. If you could…help her get there I would be forever indebted to you."

Veronica was thoughtful for a moment and then he watched her take a swallow of cooling tea. Then she put her cup aside.

"There…is a way to get here there. To help you both if you so want."

Draco stared silently but there was no admission of his own desire for help. Veronica continued in a low, urgent voice.

"Some of us have been helping. Sheltering Muggle-borns and sneaking them across to Wales and Ireland where the Ministry has less control. There are some in England but many if not most in Wales, near the coast."

He cleared his throat thinking of Blaise once more.

"There's a hospital…and a man named Neville."

Veronica's eyes widened.

"Yes," she whispered. "In Cardiff. But a bigger city might have more eyes watching. There's a tiny village near the Channel, Draco. St. David."

Draco's first thought was a bright blue sky with fluffy white clouds and a massive expanse of beach in July. His father had been a rugby fan and he had spent several holidays in St. David at the beach or dutifully following his mother around to the art galleries while his father spent hours watching matches between teams Draco could not remember the names of.

"I've heard of it," he muttered under his breath. It was a lovely, idyllic city and seemingly forever away from the hell of what Hermione had gone through in London. Victoria broke into his reverie.

"I'm sure you know of the Weasleys. One of their sons has a cottage there, just on the coast near the beaches. It's winter now. Lord knows there's no one there now and it will be safe. I can help you get there."

Draco stared down at the table, taking in the faded, worn woodwork with tiny mars and scratches in it. Taking a deep breath he nodded. It had started with a Weasley after all. And it would end with one. She deserved safety and happiness. She wouldn't be able to find it unless she was free.

Without me.

Pushing that horrid, impossible thought away, Draco looked up and swallowed hard.

"Yes," he said barely able to grind out the words. "Yes, it's perfect. A perfect, safe place."

His hands lay palm up on the table and Veronica reached down to push away his sleeve and reveal the glaring, horrid Mark that was burned into his pale flesh.

"You're a brave man, Draco Malfoy. Braver than you'll know."

He shook his head.

"You're wrong."

"No, I'm not. You're afraid, but one who is brave can admit their fear and face it. And you can't be brave if you've had only good things happen to you. You've been through hell and God knows what and here you are."

She tapped on his forearm gentle as a whispered breath.

"They are cowards. And you've faced them and succeeded in breaking away. Good things will happen for you. You'll see."

She stood and there was a silence as Draco blinked furiously to keep his tears at bay. He didn't want to cry; he didn't want to be the scared little boy that screamed to be freed from inside of him. It took a few moments but he managed to hold himself together and stood to join Veronica at the doorway to the living room.

Hermione lay in repose, her face turned away from them and glorious cinnamon and caramel curls spilling down the side of the small sofa.

"Come," whispered Veronica. "Let's get you two squared away for the night. Tomorrow comes quickly and you must make a quick getaway."

Without a word, Draco moved to help her.