Miss me? Sorry for the delay everyone! Here's another chapter; I'd consider this the last quarter of the story now that Draco is back in Hermione's life. She will essentially have to struggle with a double life. Plus, this is where Lavender and Blaise will re-enter the story as well. I apologize if the flow is off; I'm just getting back into the swing of things again. I hope you all had lovely holidays. And thank you as always!

LCailan

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

Hermione wasn't sure of her direction. She was torn between saying something to her family about Draco and the abandoned brownstone house in the countryside. She knew the right thing to do would be honesty but each time she was close to doing so, she would think of the pain that it would cause Neville.

And she ultimately was unable to do the right thing.

She kept the secret from everyone but that served only to make it nearly impossible for her to break away from her family and work life and see Draco. It pained Hermione but the logical, decent part of her knew it was best because she feared herself around him. She knew sooner or later she would have to see him again because of the promise she had made about Leo.

But it was best if she waited; it would be better for everyone if she worked to strengthen her resolve.

A week later, Neville assisted in the groundbreaking for the new health center and shelter in Ireland and that same afternoon Hermione decided that once Pansy Parkinson was well enough she would send her there without anyone knowing.

She walked into the building where she was keeping Pansy safe and made her way to the back room where she had provided Pansy with a bed and some blankets and extra clothing. Even though it had been weeks now, Hermione doubted Pansy trusted her any more than she had at the beginning.

Hermione explained breathlessly what her plans were and then offered a hopeful smile.

"You'll be safe there."

The dark haired witch watched her with mistrust and in spite of her irritation, Hermione didn't blame her.

"And once I'm well?" Pansy asked weakly.

Her coughing fits had lessened and even now when she did, Hermione didn't think it sounded so horrible.

The shelter had been mandated to be shut down but because the Ministry still owned the building, Hermione had been able to come each day to provide medicine and food to a slowly recuperating Pansy. She paused, spring jacket and handbag on her arm.

"The war took a toll on England and the surrounding areas but some parts of the world are still peaceful. You'll be safe once you leave Ireland; I'll make sure of that."

There was a stark silence as the two women regarded each other for a long moment.

"Why?"

Pansy's ragged whisper echoed in the stillness between them. Suddenly her violet eyes shone with unshed tears.

"Why would you be the one to offer me such kindness? I wake up each day and wonder if this is some sort of…cruel payback for what I have done. I've come to rely on you and you…you have made me well. What if…?"

Hermione took a breath, swallowing back emotions she couldn't express. How could she share both the tremendous pathos she felt as well as the nagging resentment towards everything that had happened.

"Our world cannot heal unless we offer forgiveness."

Pansy's eyes traveled along Hermione's face and then along the length of her neck that the blouse she was wearing did not cover before shuddering visibly.

"I did that."

The whisper was one of shame and Hermione looked down realizing what Pansy was talking about. Her scars. They had faded over the years and with some ointments that Neville had concocted but the reality was that Hermione would always bear the reminder of the horrors she had undergone.

"Pansy-"

Hermione had begun to speak in an uncertain voice but it didn't matter because Pansy interrupted.

"No, don't make excuses for me."

"There weren't any excuses for what you did."

Pansy visibly winced and her violet eyes were painted with shame.

"You're right; I deserve to be reminded of this."

Hermione's face was a stiff mask as she continued to speak.

"I don't need to remind you of anything," replied Hermione. "You won't ever forget."

Pansy turned away from Hermione, moving towards the small window that overlooked a shadowy alleyway.

"It is all I ever knew," she began softly. "Pureblood ideals."

She paused.

"It was my father's beliefs; my whole family believed that way. When…when the war began it seemed the most natural thing to join with the Ministry."

Hermione stood still, listening to the weak, trembling voice of her once nemesis.

"Blaise said so many times that…Voldemort was a man who could unite the wizarding world. He had an ideal and he…was fearless. They all were."

Hermione was horrified.

"Voldemort was a soulless, hateful creature!" she hissed.

"Perhaps he was that. Is evil not glamorous?"

Hermione was silent as Pansy continued.

"Blaise was right to turn from the Ministry when he did. I was a fool to remain but…once I got in with them it is all I had. I chose to unite myself with them in every way possible because I feared my life without my work. Without a purpose no matter how vile."

Her voice was trembling.

"I thought once I proved myself amongst everyone else that…that I would fill that hole within me. I thought I just needed to achieve something…and then something else…and then…"

Her head dropped.

"You forget your conscience after awhile. That little whisper dies."

Hermione watched the dark haired woman press her pale forehead against the windowpane and she took a breath before speaking.

"There are always choices," she whispered but Pansy only shook her head.

"Not after awhile there weren't. I did what I was told because I feared what might happen if I did not. I acted like I felt no fear but that was simply an act. I only knew that after it was too late."

Hermione realized her hands were trembling slightly when she gazed down at them, deep in thought. She knew now that everyone had suffered but even that knowledge would not take away the resentment.

"But the things you did to me…?"

Pansy offered a choked, dry chuckle.

"I was jealous."

She turned and Hermione could see a deep-seated aching in her eyes.

"They say love is blind but I do not think so. I loved Draco; I loved him with everything in me but I could see what was happening. I knew it before it happened and I wanted to stop it."

She took a deep breath, lower lip trembling.

"He was the only good thing I had and I was so sure if I just…if I just had done the right things, said what he wanted to hear…that he'd choose me but he didn't. He married a Greengrass. I chose to believe he didn't love her and that eventually he'd leave her for me. But he didn't. And then…you came along."

Hermione's heart ached as she searched for the right words to convey what she was feeling. It was impossible.

"It wasn't like that between us," she whispered. "Not…not at first."

Pansy nodded, looking away as if shamed.

"I suspected he felt something for you from the beginning. That's why I did the things I did; that's why I held Potter's daughter. I was so certain he would tell you what I had done and that you would take her place."

Hermione's eyes were swimming with tears.

"I would have; he did not tell me until after…until my feelings for him were too much to deny."

Pansy sighed but if she felt even an ounce of the anguish that Hermione did, she would not show it.

"I hated you. That I will not deny. But the things I did were shameful and you're right; they will haunt me until the end of my days."

Hermione shuddered, silent for a few moments.

"That day you helped us escape from the alienage…why did you do that?"

Pansy offered the hint of a sad smile.

"He told me he loved you; it was a hard realization to make but it's true. I had believed that I could never exist in a world without him and so letting him go was easier to accept than knowing I had something to do with his death. They would have killed him had they caught him; they knew all the things he had done for you. I wanted to do something to make up for all the destruction caused by my selfishness."

Hermione struggled to keep from weeping.

"Now you know," she whispered unable to look at the other woman. "How long I've thought about what you did for both of us. You truly are a selfless woman and the truth is he…"

She stopped, choking on her words wondering if speaking the truth she knew would help the situation. She felt Pansy's gaze on her, burning through her and wave after wave of shame crashed against her heart. Pansy had done unspeakable things, it was true. As selfish as she had been, her love for Draco had given her a second chance.

She is more selfless now than I am! Here I am, lying to my family and husband, afraid that if I tell the truth I'll lose Draco again. She gave him up. I can't do that but she could. Do I really love him? Is this what's best for him? What am I doing?

Hermione didn't think on it another moment. She reached to grab Pansy's so that they were gazing at one another.

"There's something you need to know. I-"

There was a loud crack from behind them. Someone had apparated. A moment later a much disheveled Neville entered the room.

"Hermione! I'm sorry I'm late. There was too much sodding paperwork at the Ministry office and you know how slow I am with that stuff. I came as quickly as I could-"

His breathless explanation was halted at the realization of who the other woman in the room was.

The ironic thing to Pansy was the fact that she had found Neville Longbottom to be a fool for as long as she had known him. He had been the short, a bit fat, awkward boy in school. He had been the butt of all their jokes and had bore the ridicule in silence. Then she had thought him a coward. Now…

Maybe he never was a coward. Maybe that's just what we thought. Look at him! Minister for Magic? The man who brought down the Dark Lord? I underestimated him; we all did.

It was oddity and something Pansy had never imagined might happen.

"Pansy Parkinson?"

The voice was the same, she realized. He was still soft spoken, a bit shy.

She gave him a low nod of acknowledgment while at the same time yanking down the sleeve of her worn shirt to hide her Mark. What had once been a symbol of power was now a smear of shame. It was a silly thing to do, she knew, for both Hermione and Neville knew the truth about her. But still she did it.

"Minister," she replied dutifully.

Another strange thought hit her. All the years of working for the old Ministry and she had never once met the Minister. Not until now.

"She was the one I told you about."

Granger's words were soft.

When Pansy looked up she expected Neville to be staring at her with reproach and disgust but all she saw was concern. He reached out and she took an automatic step back, her eyes widening.

"I'm not…trying to hurt you," said Neville carefully. He spoke in a low voice but his words were neither cold nor kind.

Pansy felt color flooding her cheeks.

"N-no, of course not, it's just that…"

Hermione offered a smile.

"He's a Healer. He can help you; that's why I asked him to come."

Pansy felt a flood of shame once more.

Help me? Do you know the things I've done to your wife? How I've tried to destroy all those whom you support?

She was frozen in shame, closing her eyes as she allowed Longbottom to examine her. His touch was feather light and for a moment she relished it for it had been a long time since she had felt the touch of another's hand.

"I could…take her with me side-along. To my Clinic," he said warily. "So long as no one knows…"

A pang of anger washed over Pansy and she bit back retaliatory comment, remembering that her days in power were long gone. Now she could hardly say a word in her own defense. But still a part of her wanted to scream at them, to remind them who she was-

What a fool I am! Even at my lowest point still my pride cries out.

Pansy remained silent, her head lowered meekly.

"She'd be safe in Ireland," said Hermione. "That's why I suggested it."

There was a long silence but Pansy didn't dare look up at either of her companions. Without another thought, she spoke.

"I know I'm hardly in the position to ask you for another favor but I…there are others."

Her voice was weak and Pansy wanted to kick herself. Where had strength gone? Why was she only a shell of her former self? It was frustrating and frightening all at the same time.

"Others?"

When Pansy looked up, Hermione was gazing at her with an unreadable expression.

"The others," she found herself murmuring. "The ones that…survived the battle. B-Blaise…"

She paused, clasping her hands together to keep them from trembling visibly.

"Theo…and…"

She swallowed, thinking of the disgusting lakeside camps that the Death Eaters had set up as last ditch efforts at survival. She would never forget the darkness there, the smell of rotting flesh and the taste of fear and death.

Pansy felt Hermione's touch on her arm and it willed her to continue.

"Blaise wants to eradicate those of us with the Mark. Erase the Death Eaters as if we had never existed. He's the same man who had once been one of us!"

Her violet eyes glimmered with unshed tears of frustration.

"After Voldemort fell we all scattered. I've…I've only heard whispers of what might have happened to the survivors. Some have undoubtedly perished by now but others are like me, fleeing from the new Ministry afraid that if…if we don't run fast enough we'll be killed like we're nothing."

Neville interrupted Pansy's raspy words.

"You forget that only a few years ago it was the other way around?"

His words were, once again, without any distinct emotion and Pansy shuddered for indifference was the worst emotion of all.

"I haven't forgotten," she said in a voice that seemed more firm.

Her eyes flashed as she glared at Neville before lowering her head once again.

"They capture us, torture us to the point of death in hopes that we will give up the names of the ones that are still alive," she whispered.

"You were traveling together?" Neville asked softly.

"Mostly together, yes," replied Pansy. "We went into the final battle together, rallying with Blaise to end the war. Most of us had no choice. When…when the fighting was over Blaise turned on us."

Pansy's face was pale and stiff as she reiterated the last moments of the battle, those moments after Voldemort had fallen, destroying the Ministry completely. She told Hermione and Neville how quickly and brutally Blaise Zabini and turned on them, slaying those who were nearest to him and chasing the ones that had been smart enough to flee. She told them of the fear and all that she did not know – how many had survived, where many of them were, and how many were still living now.

"I only know of a small group of survivors," she was whispering. "Some are wounded and certainly dead by now but I promised I would come to London to see if I could find the help that we need. I didn't come here to fight for my own survival, at least that was not the only reason."

A tear escaped her.

"Please, if…if there's any chance that my companions are still living…I beg you to help them."

Hermione held back the gasp that had escaped at Pansy's horrific recollections. She now understood the things Draco had been telling her; he had been one of the captured, tortured for the whereabouts of those that had managed to escape from Zabini's clutches. It still remained to be seen if Draco had known Pansy's whereabouts and lied to protect her or if he simply had fled without knowledge of those whom he had left behind.

Her aching heart thumped weakly and she wondered if anyone could hear it.

"You know what you're asking me?" Neville questioned.

Pansy nodded empathically.

"I know it. But if anyone can help me…"

She swallowed, wincing for a moment.

"I came into London never believing I would be able to find the help I need. But you both saved me! I never imagined I'd survive the end of this war and I have."

She turned her plaintive eyes towards Neville.

"I know my past is a horrific one and I will never make up for all my sins," she whispered. "But if anyone can help me, it is you. You're the Minister."

She gazed at Hermione.

"Show me the mercy I never showed you. Please, I beg you."

Pansy knew that everything in her life had changed. For years she had worked to become immune to the begging and pleas around her. Now, she was one of those who had no choice but to beg.

London, England

Ministry of Magic

She stared at the man behind the desk, the silence between them shocking and stark.

"That's it?"

It was different now, the devastation she felt. It was different than all those other times before when she had been lowered to begging, crying and whoring herself to make ends meet. This pain was more poignant, borne of a woman indignant and shocked from disbelief.

She had not expected such treatment – not from the man who had loved and protected her so long Lavender had forgotten what it felt like to be alone and afraid.

She stood in the middle of his massive office staring at him unblinkingly, a prayer of pleading on her lips, whispered but unheard even by her own ears. The only thing she could hear was the pounding of her heart and the rush of heated blood through her veins.

Blaise did not look up instead intent on the paperwork before him, as if she were not there.

Lavender cleared her throat hating to sound so weak and hurt. She asked him if he could hear her but he did not answer. She spoke again, raising her voice, causing it to crack. She felt pathetic.

"Are you listening to me?"

Louder this time until Blaise tossed aside the quill he had been holding with a violent swipe.

"WHAT?"

Lavender stood rooted to the spot, her mouth hanging open and her heart breaking. After all there was no mistaking the annoyance in the tone of voice he used with her.

"How can you dismiss me like this?" she asked, fighting tears.

She closed her eyes and willed him step closer to her so she could feel the warmth of his strong arms around her and the scent of his morning aftershave. She needed him; the feeling of being without him was one of loneliness. She was so cold.

I won't panic; I can't. I can't just let him make me feel like this!

But her mind would not listen and Lavender felt her heart begin to race with anxiety. How would she go on if the man she had fallen in love with was no longer there? How could she even think of a life without-?

"I am busy."

Even his voice was cold and flat with indifference. Lavender wanted to weep; she wanted to pick up every object in the room and hurl it in his direction screaming at him to open his eyes and realize that he was destroying everything that she had build her life upon! He couldn't see her crying; he couldn't see that all her dreams were dying.

I love you, Blaise! I've loved you for so long! Why would you do this-?

Lavender's mind was racing with fear of the unknown, her hands like ice. So, so cold.

"I only want to speak with you-"

His dark eyes flashed as Blaise stood and came around the side of his large, wooden desk.

"Talk, talk, talk!" he spat. "It's always about what you want to do, isn't it?"

His words mocked her, bringing fresh, hot tears to her dark blue eyes.

"It's not about what I want!" she cried out with anger and hurt. "It's about our relationship!"

Couldn't he see? Did nothing matter to him anymore? He was destroying her with his indifference. How could someone that had loved her so much before cause her such pain now?

Blaise stared at her with indifference.

"We've talked about this before," he stated dismissively. "I told you, things have changed. You either learn to understand that or you are free to go."

Lavender paled. No. No, she couldn't. She wasn't able to live without him!

"W-what about Daisy? What about the fact that I can't-"

He interrupted her faltering pleas with his own brusque words.

"You can do whatever it is that you set your mind on. I know that and so do you. Do not mock my intelligence by playing the damsel in distress. You have everything you have ever wanted and need, do you not?"

He waved her off then.

"Is this…thing…between us necessary any longer?"

Lavender held back a gasp at the way he had dismissed what was most important to her. It was only a few words, uttered with such a quiet, cold manner and yet the managed to break her apart right down to her soul.

How can you be doing this to me? How can you dismiss me like I am nothing? Why do I still love you?

She felt more used than she had in her worst moments. Whoring did not feel like this; giving her body had been nothing compared to giving her heart – and now she could not have it back.

Yes, Blaise was right. She had everything she had ever wanted. Comfortable, beautiful clothing and a large, airy, gorgeous house. Daisy had just started the most elite preparatory school for children her age and everywhere she went, Lavender was treated like she was something important. When she had been at her worst moments in life she had dreamt of one day being where she was now.

But in spite of all that, Lavender found that her happiness had been complete in the circle of Blaise Zabini's arms and even though she was his wife she knew he no longer esteemed her as anything but a nuisance. She had been happiest years before, hiding out from the Ministry in Paddington, a whore who had fallen in love with a Ministry official.

Now she was…

Nothing. I'm nothing! I have everything and yet…

She wanted to mean everything to him again! Why had he changed? Why had the war destroyed everything she had ever dreamed of and believed in? Blaise was changed; he was a terrifying shadow of the man he had once been – the man she had fallen for so many years ago.

Blaise gripped her upper arm more tightly than was necessary but Lavender did not flinch.

"Will you leave me to my work?"

She managed a strange, warbled reply that made no sense.

"And you will be attending tonight's gala for the opening of Longbottom's network of medical clinics?"

This time his voice was less business like and tinged with disdain and Lavender glanced up to search his dark, handsome face.

"You're planning on attending? I thought…I thought you had said the other night that his decision was rubbish-"

Once more he interrupted her as if her thoughts no longer mattered. She wondered if he even knew she was in the room when the manic look would come into his eyes. That was when he was the most frightening.

"It is rubbish! But what would it look like I was not there?"

He let her arm go, flinging it away.

"Longbottom is a fool and that wife of his is nothing but trouble!"

Lavender knew better than to reply when Blaise was in one of his moods. She knew that the new Minister hardly ever did anything without consulting his advisors and his wife; he was different than any other man who had ever held the post of Minister for Magic. And she could never recall from the fuzzy memories of their school years that she had believed Neville capable of holding said position. And yet, there he was…and here she was struggling to hold together any semblance of the life she had created for herself and her family.

If only Blaise-

"I can't believe that poor sod accepted the position of Minister knowing full well he's hardly capable of doing to job! Were I the Minister I would have captured the remaining Death Eaters still on the lose would be dead and gone by now! He's a soft-hearted fool!"

Blaise was raging mad.

"And now that silly bint he calls a wife is interfering with-"

He cleared his throat staring down at Lavender.

"Wear the blue dress, won't you?"

She wasn't able to pull away as Blaise tapped her cheek firmly with his hand as if she were a friend and not a lover.

"You always look good in blue."

Lavender stood rooted in place where he left her, listening as the door of his office shut behind him. When she knew she was alone, she slipped to her knees, covering her mouth with trembling hands and crying silently.

Her life was no longer the one she wanted; the love she held in her heart meant nothing to the man she felt it for. She was at best an irritation to him now. And she wasn't she wanted to know what he felt for her at her worst times. And it hurt.

The candles in the hall glimmered as Hermione moved across the room to adjust Neville's bowtie.

"That blue is so lovely on you," he said fondly. "But then again, you always look breathtaking in that color."

Her dress was form fitting and made of the softest satin, clinging attractively to her curves. It had beading on the bodice that sparkled in the dim lighting.

"You're sweet," Hermione replied, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek tenderly. Then she frowned, leaning to grab her clutch purse. "Are you sure you want to go to the gala tonight? These clinics were really my idea and I think I can manage if you didn't want to be there. I know how you hate the large crowds."

Neville smiled, shrugging on his long coat.

"Sometimes I think you forget I'm the Minister."

She smiled at his gentle joke.

"Never. There's no man better for the job," she said slipping her hand confidently in his. The walked down the empty hallway, down the stairs, and to the large fireplace that served as a connection to the Floo Network.

She stopped him just as the green flames burst forward.

"Neville."

He looked at her quizzically and Hermione took a deep breath.

"Thank you for agreeing to help Pansy Parkinson."

Neville sighed audibly.

"I wish you'd tell me what I don't know, Hermione."

She paled and was glad for the darkness wondering if Neville would be so understanding if he knew that Draco had something to do with her decision in helping.

He pressed the issue for a moment.

"What happened between you two?"

"I can't, Neville. I won't. It's in the past."

There was a quiver in her voice and Neville finally sighed in defeat.

"Fine."

The flames grew.

"Look, you're my wife and if…well, if you believe helping her and those…others…"

Hermione bit her lip.

"I don't want you to feel like…"

Neville stopped her words.

"I told you already. I'm going to help you with this. I want to."

Hermione finally sighed and rested her head on his shoulder for a moment hoping the restlessness in her heart would be calmed by his assurances and presence. She had already admitted that she had been shaken deeply by the plight of the remaining Death Eaters. And now she couldn't turn back; she had to help them. She only hoped that it would not prove dangerous.

Neville reached to tuck a strand of chestnut-colored hair that had escaped her glittery combs behind her ear.

"We'll move them quickly, Hermione. No one will know."

She bit her lip.

"I know," she whispered. "Thank you."

"I'll never understand you," Neville replied. "But I love you."

"I love you too."

His kiss did nothing to quell the storm within her. For a moment there was only the whooshing sound of the flames before them.

"Just promise me you won't say anything to Blaise," Neville said with a light laugh for neither knew the seriousness of the situation.

"Perish the thought."

Hermione offered a laugh she did not feel, not wanting to know how angry Blaise might get if he knew the Minister for Magic was helping the Death Eaters. She smiled at her husband.

"Are you ready? We should get going; I don't want to keep your adoring public waiting."

Neville blushed and Hermione was glad that this, at least, had not changed. But she knew everything else had.