As always, so glad to hear from all of you. Time constraints have forced me to post this much later than I had hoped – but this chapter came much quicker. Good thing. Lots of things going on but I'll let you read to find out! Character death, so be aware. Oh, and Draco should be making an appearance soon; I'm trying to pick up the pacing. Enjoy!
LCailan
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Zabini stepped forward and jabbed the end of his wand against the man's neck hard enough for it to hurt. He leaned in, dark eyes gleaming with ruthless determination.
"Tell me," he hissed. "Where is Greyback?"
The man groaned, yanking away from the offending wand tip and twisting against the frayed rope that was bound magically around him.
"Let me go, Zabini! You filthy, Mudblood loving piece of trash."
Zabini knelt down near his two prisoners, glancing first at Rabastan, who had spoken.
"Tsk tsk. Sticks and stones, my friend. Sticks and stones."
He eased up on the pressure of his wand but did not break eye contact with the bound man.
"You tried to kill my daughter," he hissed, his breath against Rabastan's ear. "You were with Greyback and Dolohov that day in Paddington. I know it."
Blaise stood, never taking his eyes off of the two men who sat bound against one another in the dim corner of a the basement room that the Alliance was using as a lookout point.
"It's time to pay the piper," he mused quietly, running the tip of his wand against his lips almost thoughtfully.
Then he turned, studying each of them with intensity. He wished that he had paid more attention at school, that he was a better legilimens. It wasn't that Blaise needed confirmation; he knew Rabastan had been with Dolohov and Greyback, he just wanted proof.
He stepped towards them again. It was Daisy who Blaise was thinking about. He cared little at the moment for anything else but revenge. Revenge on those who had tried to hurt his child.
Suddenly the other man spoke up gruffly.
"Oy, that snot-nosed little half-Mudblood brat? I wish she were dead! Had I been there, I'd have made sure!"
In one brutal movement, Blaise's wand connected with the side of Rodolphus' face, leaving an ugly welt and causing the man's eyes to water. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, stark red against his pale, bearded face.
"Don't you ever call my child such degrading names!"
"You don't get to tell me what to do, Zabini! You worthless, Muggle-loving bastard!"
Blaise smirked coldly. The brightness of the blood against pale flesh seemed to fuel his rage and thirst for vengeance.
"Such false bravado will get you nowhere," he mocked.
The welt on Rodolphus' face reddened further as Blaise continued with a harsh laugh.
"Do you really think your Ministry will come to the rescue? Dolohov is dead and I will find Greyback. And all three of you will pay. The whole Ministry will, for this bloody war that keeps people apart and destroys family."
Rabastan began to struggle roughly against his bonds, his eyes flashing like those of a rabid animal. Rodolphus spat out a mouthful of blood and stared at Blaise hatefully.
"I knew you were a bad one! Told Bella, I did! I told her you were good for sodding nothing and that the first chance you got you'd defect from the Ministry. I was right! Fool woman put you in charge and for what?"
Blaise yanked Rodolphus up by his collar the movement sharp and careless.
"Who are you calling a fool?" he whispered. "When it is I standing before you with the power to save you or have you murdered? When it is your Ministry that is struggling to survive now? The Alliance has more power than you think!"
Rabastan let out a hoarse, choked laugh.
"You hold no power over us. Not your or your fool notions about family and togetherness. Or your bloody Alliance!"
To this, Blaise began laughing.
"You're wrong," he said in a tone devoid of all emotion. "I'll show you who is in charge."
Lifting his wand he waved it towards the magical bonds holding the Lestrange brothers together.
"Diffindo!"
The rope was severed and Rabastan tumbled forward out of balance giving Blaise the precious seconds he needed.
"Stupefy!"
Rodolphus fell backwards, hit the wall and lay still. Rabastan leapt to his feet and brandished his own wand, hurling a blasting curse in Zabini's direction. The younger man dodged the jets that flew across the room, cursing the entire time. Rabastan moved forward with a cry but he wasn't quick enough for Zabini.
Blaise pointed his wand directly at the other man's heart and stopped thinking. It was over very quickly.
Fuck proof. I don't need it.
He smirked.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Rabastan fell dead and Blaise stood at his feet in breathless triumph.
"I know it was you," he whispered to the dead man his words dying in the stale, cool air.
He felt a mixture of horror and exhilaration fill him at the realization that he had killed a man whom had been an ally for so long. But it didn't matter – the Ministry was not the ally, they were the enemy. And the enemy needed to be destroyed. All those who fought against him and his family would be destroyed. Dolohov was already dead thanks to Kingsley. And now Rabastan had joined him.
Two down, one to go.
And after? After, Blaise decided, he'd take care of the Ministry itself.
There was a clatter and a the muted sound of anxious voices from above and Blaise quickly stepped over the dead man's body moving to bind up Rodolphus once again before quickly pointing his wand.
"Ennervate."
Once the man in bonds realized what had happened the only sound that escaped him was a feeble moan. He was no longer fighting.
"Zabini?"
Blaise turned, tucking his wand away.
It was Dean who entered the shadowy confines of the cellar.
"Bloody hell what happened-?"
There was no time to explain, Blaise realized and he quickly motioned the black man forward.
"He's dead. I can't explain."
Dean blinked staring down at the body. A mixture of emotions washed over him. He felt relieved for this death meant one less enemy to face. He felt shock that Zabini had so unmercifully been able to-
He recalled Ginny's words but even as he did, Dean attempted to stop thinking altogether.
No, Zabini was the good guy, no matter what Ginny thought. This was war; there would be brutality at the hands of both sides. There was no escaping that. Dean's heart thumped heavily within him, pounding so loudly he thought everyone in the room would hear. His eyes met Zabini's.
"Lee…Lee cannot-"
Blaise's face was a mask of nothingness.
"He is dead?"
Dean shook his head.
"No, he's alive but he won't be able to help us right now. We need…we need a new plan."
For a few moments Blaise said nothing, his mind racing with possibilities. He had wanted to travel to London, using Rodolphus as bait to infiltrate the Ministry headquarters. That would have to wait; the Alliance needed him.
He could see it literally written in Dean's eyes.
Lavender's friends are my allies.
Though his personal goals had driven him this far, Blaise found that he could not turn from the Alliance for it would rouse too much suspicion. And having control over the WERA…
It was an opportunity that he could not pass up.
"Who is with you?" he asked quietly. "Get them together."
"Poppy can't keep up with the numbers of injured."
"There are always those who will continue to be willing to fight. We must continue to fight or the Ministry will infiltrate the borders."
Dean swallowed painfully the image of Lee falling in battle a vivid, horrific painting in his mind.
"We don't even know where the Ministry forces are."
Blaise smiled which seemed a bit odd and then he turned to the man bound in the shadows.
"We do not. But he does."
One month later
The sun shone brightly through the tall windows that lined one side of Neville's research laboratory. Hermione opened the door and slipped inside, shutting the door behind her.
The papers she had been working on the day before still lay untouched where she had left them. That was one thing she enjoyed about working with Neville, she did her thing and he did his and neither had the penchant of getting in the way.
Hermione's days had fallen into a comfortable routine of getting up, going to work, and coming home. Apart from that she chose no to think much further into her actions. Her only focus had become to save as much money as she could before the birth of her baby. That's really what it came down to – having enough money that she could eventually have her own flat and support herself and her little one. She would need money to move closer to her family – to Ginny and the children. And if she could, she would fight along side them until the war was over. And then…
Hermione stopped riffling through the paperwork for a moment, blinking away a sudden rush of bitter emotion.
Nothing, not even the security of her new life and routine could truly erase the sadness she felt.
Hermione thought of him often; the dreams had not lessened and his presence hovered always nearby, like a ghost. Sometimes she felt him almost physically, as close as skin. It was both shocking and troubling. She wondered where he was and what he was doing and she prayed he was all right. The thought that something had already happened to him was one that paralyzed her with pain. It didn't help to hear the news that would occasionally trickle as far west as Wales – news of death and fighting along the borders of England and Wales between the Ministry and the Alliance. She had already known, of course. Charlie had told her over a month before. But to know that it was continuing and the thought that one of her family would die – just like so many others – made her want to weep. And not only that but the knowledge that she had no clue where he was, well, that made things all that much worse. Too many times, Hermione had nearly broken down and gone to Ginny in hopes that someone could help her find him. But then she would recall the day at the cottage and the look of disappointment on Ginny's face.
She wouldn't help me, would she?
She didn't know, but she didn't think she could bear to find out. In the end, Hermione knew she couldn't worry over both Draco and her baby – she would go mental.
If she wasn't already.
The Alliance continued to defend the border of England and Wales with a beastly ferocity. Under the leadership of Blaise Zabini, they were able to not only hold their lines but to send the Ministry flailing backwards once again in another unsettling defeat. In spite of initial doubts of Zabini's ability to lead, he showed himself to be utterly glorious in the face of adversity, possessing a stubborn determination and nerves of steel. Some would have said that he seemed to be unmerciful but others chose to believe that in war there was no such thing as mercy. He was masterful with his wand and brilliant in mind, always seemingly one step ahead of those whom he had aligned himself with only years before. There were those who did not trust him because of what he had been but with time it was undeniable that his knowledge of the Ministry and those within it would prove to be a priceless asset.
Those who fought alongside him had admitted that the way with which he fought seemed personal; Zabini never did anything halfway and those he battled almost always lost. And when the battling was over he never seemed to rest, instead always looking ahead to the next altercation. There were many but it seemed that the insurmountable goals of the Alliance were now within reach.
Fate seemed to bless the Alliance with victory but she still reminded them that the world was filled with pain. In spite of Minerva and Poppy's hesitant prediction that Lee would live and their constant vigilance, he lingered for several weeks before finally succumbing to the curse he had taken in battle. Lee's death marked a change within the Alliance. Some were opposed to Zabini's permanent leadership role while others, buoyed by the headway made at his command, welcomed the idea.
In the end it seemed foolish not to allow Zabini charge of the forces as he seemed more willing than the others, if not most capable. And so the forces of resistance gained a new commander.
Never had anyone imagined that it would be a man who had once called himself a Death Eater.
It was rumored that Lavender Brown had made no qualms about her displeasure at staying with the WERA for she had wanted to flee out of the country and take her family with her. Thus some said that the only moment of uncertainty that they had ever seen flicker across Zabini's face was the moment he was asked to take charge of the forces. Eventually, Lavender softened her stand and Zabini was able to take full command with confidence and no guilt.
Only weeks after he did so, Lavender married Zabini in a small, private ceremony somewhere near the WERA headquarters. The two newlyweds had little time to spend together as only days after their nuptials, he was called back out into the field for the Ministry had attacked once more.
The fighting was fierce but Zabini and the Alliance forces were a steel wall, allowing nothing and no one beyond the lines that he defended with fervor. The Ministry lost another battle and were sent in retreat. The Alliance took prisoners – Death Eaters and Ministry sympathizers who could be used for information about the Ministry and the whereabouts of other parties of Executioners who were hiding around the border of England and Wales, waiting to attack.
Zabini led the questioning of these men and women, some nameless and others he had worked with before, in a past he no longer cared to remember. When the Death Eaters did not easily give up information, he began to torture them. After all, these were those who had tortured Muggle-borns in the past and so they deserved what was coming to them.
No one questioned Zabini.
Death Eaters begged for respite, for their very lives. But the Commander was ruthless and showed no mercy. He spoke of having to make an example of all those captured so that the Ministry would know, once and for all, who they were dealing with.
Perhaps no one saw the shift in power, or perhaps many did and said nothing. One month after Blaise Zabini took charge of the Alliance, the first Death Eaters were executed for war crimes against the Muggle-borns and half-bloods.
They were the first of many who would follow.
On a late evening in early June, Draco and Hermione's son was born. He seemed in a hurry to arrive, as Hermione's water broke only an hour before his birth. He was a small baby with curiously long legs and tufts of chestnut-colored hair.
Though later Hermione would vividly remember his entrance into the cruel world, giving birth had seemed like a whirlwind of fear, excitement, pain and joy. She would remember later that it was the fantasy of Draco at her side that helped her through the ordeal. Only when she was finally holding her bundled son in the crook of her trembling arms did she realize how real it all was.
"Hello, little one."
She welcomed her son with a whisper, running one finger tenderly along his downy-soft face, overwhelmed at the feeling of holding him finally, after so many months.
Luna had prepared the spare room in her flat for when Hermione would need it and Neville had helped bring her son into the world. His cry was rich with life and the tiny boy trembled from the cold, but once he was settled against his mother's breast he seemed content.
Ginny and Seamus had arrived only an hour before his birth and the children surrounded Hermione's birthing bed, each wanting a closer look at the new baby. Lily, because she was the youngest and held a special piece of Hermione's heart, got to climb up on the bed so she could peer down at the baby.
"He looks nuffin' like you."
Luna, who had been opening the windows on the far side of the room, gave Lily a tolerant smile.
"That's because babies take a bit to look like their parents," she explained.
Then she gave Ginny a smile. "Isn't that right?"
Ginny nodded, pressing her lips into what she hoped was an easy smile but what she knew Hermione would see right through.
"Yes, Lily. You were a tiny, bald thing when you were born."
Her words were quiet but affectionate and her eyes never left Hermione's new son. Then she looked down at her daughter, who was gazing back up with brilliant green eyes. Ginny caught her breath and then spoke tremulously.
"But you have your daddy's eyes."
Lily beamed at this, happy that she had inherited something from her famed father.
Hermione gazed down at the baby and she counted his fingers, his toes, and made sure that everything was as it should have been. Just then, her son opened his eyes wide as if offended by her inspection.
Hermione nearly gasped; he had eyes the same exact color as his father. She concluded immediately that there never had been a baby quite so perfect. Tears filled her eyes and she hoped that those around her would simply assume they were from joy. She wasn't able to truly verbalize the sudden loss she felt – the overwhelming feeling of missing Draco so much that it hurt.
As Lily peered down at the baby, Hermione offered her a tearful smile.
"He looks like his daddy, Lily."
It was the one and only time that any of them had heard her mention the baby's father. Lily looked up in wonder.
"What happened to his daddy? He's dead like mine?"
Hermione could not speak in reply so she busied herself tucking the baby's blanket around his tiny body even though his legs kept coming free.
"What are ya gonna call him, Hermione?"
Albus pushed his little sister aside a bit so he could look down at the baby.
"I'm named after the two greatest headmasters daddy's school ever had!"
At this statement he puffed out his chest rather proudly, his brown eyes shining. Hermione smiled at this wearily.
"That you are," she said with a bit of nostalgia.
The she glanced down at the strikingly beautiful baby.
"I don't know," she murmured after a moment. "What do you think he should be called?"
She looked up at the three children, noting the eagerness in their bright and happy faces. They began talking over one another making Hermione chuckle. She wasn't sure what she'd call him but she knew she had a bit of time to decide.
"I wanna hold him, Mama!"
Lily seemed adamant in her request and Hermione finally handed the baby to Ginny watching her family hold him for the first time. Before tears blurred her vision, Hermione could see a look of admiration and awe on Ginny's face as she held him. At least there was the hope that Ginny would see beyond who the baby's father was – accepting him completely no matter what.
There were plenty of people about in Luna's flat that night and the day after, allowing Hermione proper rest after giving birth. Neville was a constant comfort, always in the background and always more than eager to help by bringing a glass of water or a change of clothing. But in spite of the people around her, Hermione had trouble not falling apart.
She had brought a child into the world. Her child. His child. Their child – they had made a baby. A beautiful baby that Draco had not seen born. Each second that slipped by seemed like a tiny death. It terrified, angered, broke her in ways she had not believed she could be broken. And there was nothing she could do. Her only salvation now was the look of utter peace in her baby boy's gray eyes; each time he gazed up at her Hermione felt her broken heart healing just a bit. At least she wasn't alone now. She would always have her son.
Hermione watched Neville limp across the room to open her window and let in the early summer air.
"You know," he mused turning around. "If you don't name that child soon Lily will have your head."
His light brown eyes were sparkling with mirth as he eased into a chair he had placed between the bed and the window. It was several days later and he had been with Hermione and the baby each day without fail. He was her constant companion, it seemed.
The little boy was napping at her side, the sun dancing off of his brown hair. Hermione watched him thoughtfully.
"I know it," she said with a small laugh. "She wants to call him Ginny after her mother no matter how many times I tell her that's a girl's name."
Neville laughed.
"Can you blame her, really?" he questioned, lifting up some of the baby's used diapers and putting them next to the waste bin by the window.
"I want it to be a good name," Hermione stated with a nod. "Something strong."
Hermione gazed down at her son and then looked up at Neville, a smile on her lips.
"I ought to call him Neville."
He blushed, the color rising up from his neck to bloom on his full cheeks.
"That's silly," he stuttered.
"I don't think it is," she countered. "After all, it's a good, strong name. You're one of the bravest men I know, Neville Longbottom. And even more than that, you're good and humble. Silent and strong."
The color on his face deepened as he shook his head and as Hermione watched, he got up and began to move about the room picking things up and putting them down, wiping the furniture clean of nonexistent dust. He moved slowly, his limp evident.
"You mean I'm a stuttering doormat who happens to be unable to fight on the front lines because of a war injury. Just because I have a knack for working with plants doesn't mean I've been that useful, Hermione."
He paused as if ashamed.
"But I don't mind you saying so."
Hermione watched him as he faced away from her, looking out of the window that overlooked the street that Luna's flat was on.
"Neville, why do you always do this? You underestimate your worth."
He didn't move but she could see that his shoulders had shifted a bit – stiffened, really.
"I do it because I should have been fighting this whole time with the others, Hermione. I should be with Dean, Seamus and the rest of the WERA. But instead I'm here, working with a few bloody plants and trying to believe I'm being useful."
She sighed.
"But you are useful. Without you, where would we bring those injured? Where would the refugees go? You heal people, Neville! That's not something to scoff at! That's…you're like an angel."
Neville turned at the statement and there was a strange, startled look in his eyes.
"Luna always said that," he mused with a small laugh. Hermione gave him a smile.
"She still says that and she's not wrong."
The baby shifted in his sleep and Hermione lifted him into her arms and studied him. There was a long and profound silence.
"I think I'll call him Leo."
Neville's eyes brightened for a moment as he returned to his chair, his earlier embarrassment gone now. The baby yawned and stretched his long legs.
"The Gryffindor lion," he countered. "That's a good name, Hermione."
"To me it represents bravery and strength."
"That too."
She adjusted the baby's blanket.
"I think George for a middle name."
She felt a flurry of sadness as she wondered what Draco would call his own son if he had the chance to choose. She had never known Scorpius' middle name nor did she want to name a baby after Draco's lost son, afraid that it would bring back those awful memories if ever Draco returned to her.
Neville smiled but Hermione sensed a hesitant sadness there too.
"I think it's brilliant. The Weasleys were your family for so long…"
His voice had taken on a note of nervousness. Hermione took a breath.
"They still are, Neville. I can't ever forget what…they've done for me."
"So he'll be Leo George Granger."
Somehow it just didn't…sound right, she decided. Not even when Neville said it a second time. There was a rushing in her ears and a pounding in her temples. The name really did work, she knew. George to honor the Weasley family and Leo…well, Leo to signify her Gryffindor heart and courage. But not only that – Leo was a constellation. The name was in honor of the Black family tradition of naming their children after the stars. She would honor Draco's family as well. She had to.
Gods, I wish Draco were here! Leo's not just a Granger, for bloody fuck's sake! He's a Malfoy! A MALFOY!
"Accio, water!"
Neville summoned the glass pitcher that stood by the entrance to the room and then poured Hermione a glass, watching her with bright eyes.
"What about his father, Hermione?"
It was as if Neville had read her mind and just the idea that he knew what she was thinking about was disconcerting. Hermione shifted in the bed, careful not to disturb Leo and she looked away.
"What about him?"
The statement was clipped, leaving no room for discussion if Neville had wanted one. The man by the bed grew agitated.
"It's been months, Hermione! Won't you tell me what-"
"Leo's father's not important!" she exclaimed painfully. "He's not here, don't you see? I'm alone! I've always been alone!"
Even through his mother's growing frustration, little Leo seemed oblivious and peaceful in sleep.
Neville got up and Hermione didn't catch the determined look that flashed across his face.
"Etamin. You should call him that. To honor his father's family tradition, don't you think?"
Hermione's head snapped up in shock.
"What are you getting on about, Neville?"
"A star in the Draco constellation, yeah?" he snapped angrily. "And someone you'd rather not talk about, isn't that right? You want to keep secrets from all of us? There's no such thing, Hermione!"
He looked down at the sleeping boy.
"Leo George Etamin Malfoy."
The glass Hermione had been holding shattered against the floor as it slipped from her weakened grasp. The glass breaking masked her gasp of realization and it startled Leo awake. He began to scream.
Neville hadn't wanted to hurt Hermione; he simply realized he had allowed his frustrations, which had been simmering for months, to come to the surface. The fact that she grew suddenly pale and tears swam in her wide eyes tore at his too-kind heart.
"Y-you know?"
Her whisper was hoarse and tinged with disbelief. There was a sad resignation in her eyes and she looked the part of a woman betrayed.
"No one knew but Ginny and she promised not to tell!"
"She didn't," he replied hurriedly. "It was Luna. She…hears you sometimes, when you're sleeping."
The color that flooded her cheeks was a brilliant red against her white pallor. At first Neville thought she'd cry for she looked on the verge of tears. It was only a few moments later, as her face hardened and her eyes flashed vehemently that he knew he'd be taking the initial flood of her anger.
"So you'll judge me now, won't you? Just like Ginny!"
Neville took a step back, shaking his head. But he knew better than to speak.
"I can tell! All of you are the same!" she raged. "Everyone thought the Ministry was horribly prejudiced against those who weren't pureblooded but look at us! We're the same! We judge a Death Eater for the Mark on his arm just as surely as Voldemort has judge me for my blood purity! All the same and all disgusting!"
Neville reached down to calm Hermione who was sobbing over her little boy's wails.
"No, Hermione. Who am I to judge you?"
The question hung in the air and for a moment she managed to gather a semblance of calm, rocking Leo back and forth to calm him down. He seemed content after a few moments and his wails lessened to whimpers.
"Why should I believe you or anyone else?" she asked thickly. "I saw the way Ginny looked at me. I'll bet you're thinking it right now, aren't you? How disgusting and desperate I must have been to sleep with him? How Leo is nothing but a Death Eater's son!"
Her words were harsh and bitter and the look she gave him was heavy and laden with mistrust. Neville took a deep breath and then laced his large and rather clumsy hands through her smaller ones, giving them a squeeze.
"No. I'm thinking how brave you were all that time, in that horrid alienage. And that in spite of everything they put you through you wouldn't let them win."
Their hands stayed joined as Neville continued, carefully choosing his words.
"I'm thinking that you faced moments in your life that none of us will ever face and that we shouldn't judge you if you found someone to offer you comfort."
Neville searched the depths of Hermione's brown eyes hoping that she would believe his sincerity. Her lips trembled and a single, rogue tear ran down her face. He fumbled in the breast pocket of his waistcoat to remove a handkerchief and quickly reached to wipe the tear away.
The feel of the wetness against his fingertips sent a shock of unfamiliar sensation through Neville and he stopped, pulling away as if burned.
"I'm…I'm so sorry for everything you've been through, Hermione."
He found his tongue was thick and his face hot. But Hermione didn't notice, only staring at him without a word.
"You didn't deserve it; no one deserves something so horrible."
Neville searched her face and she looked lost and confused, as if she was with him but not really there.
"Hermione?"
The worry was evident in his voice but Hermione did nothing to assuage it.
"You won't tell anyone?" she whispered. "He-he asked me not to tell anyone. He wanted me to be free. He said so long as I was linked to him that could never happen. You do understand?"
Neville ignored her question but spoke with the same hushed tone as Hermione.
"Where is he?"
She was looking at him with feverish intensity in her eyes but he attributed that to her recent childbirth and the fact that she had grown so pale.
"I-I don't know," she admitted.
"He abandoned you?"
Neville had stiffened though neither had let go of each other's hands.
"Hush," Hermione chastised in a hoarse tone, her eyes reproachful. "You promised you wouldn't judge."
Tears there.
"Hermione, I'm just worried about you."
"Would you make the Vow?"
"What?"
"The Unbreakable Vow? Promising that you won't tell a soul about who Leo's father is?"
Neville was confused; he didn't understand. But something about Hermione face, something in her eyes made him say the words anyway. His finger ran gently along her thumb and he hoped the words would offer her comfort.
"If that's what made you feel better."
She relaxed then, visibly leaning back against her pillows, some color flooding back into her face. She looked towards the windows blinking rapidly even though Neville could see the struggle against tears.
"I won't make you do that," she whispered. "I just need you to…understand. And not to say anything. I trust you."
For long moments they sat in silence, her hand laced in his and resting on top of her duvet. Neville had noticed that it had grown cold. And even though he didn't like it, he found himself agreeing with her request.
"I won't say a word."
She finally looked at him and then pulled forward to wrap herself around him in a hug. Neville held her for he could think of nothing else that could comfort her right then. He knew she loved Draco; he knew what it was like to love someone who wasn't there.
A few hours later, Ginny and the children came to visit. Hermione and Luna made a supper for everyone who had crowded the rather small flat. It was a rowdy, rather disorganized affair and afterwards as they sat around the living room Hermione shared with them what she had named her baby - Leo George Etamin. She hoped that those who knew the truth about Leo's father would not say anything - and right then, Hermione could do nothing but trust those around her. And so she did.
A/N: Just in case anyone was wondering - all the names suggested were awesome and I actually pondered all of them (I had a printout, lol) to see which one would work the best (yeah, I'm so attached to this story that even minor things aren't so minor!) I chose Leo George Etamin for the reasons mentioned in the chapter. Leo was actually the one suggested the most and one I had in mind before I asked you guys so that one wasn't hard. I loved the idea of honoring the Weasley family and Fred didn't sound as good as George so I went with that. And I LOVED the idea of the constellation - though I hadn't found a name that worked until someone suggested Etamin so..there you go. My second choice was Sebastian! But oh, they were all so good! Ok, I'm done now. Thanks for reading! :)