I am, as always, flattered by the reviews, alerts and lovely comments I've received along the way of telling this monster story! I thank you all! And I'm back from vacation renewed and relaxed (For the moment) with another installment that sort of moves the story forward a bit. There's not too much more to go, I don't think. Of course that depends on how much development I continue to add. We shall see. Enjoy!
LCailan
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
Hermione sat on the hard, expensively upholstered chair as she stared at the Commandant of the Ministry battle forces. Blaise Zabini regarded her with a lazy curiosity.
"It has been a while, Miss Granger."
His perfectly arched eyebrow rose.
"Forgive me," he corrected himself. "I often get stuck in the past, you see. I mean…Lady Longbottom, of course."
He sat back in the large chair that sat behind the even larger desk between them and offered a warm smile.
"Would you like a cuppa?"
He nodded languidly towards a teapot that sat on the credenza near the massive door that led out of his Ministry offices.
"No, thank you," Hermione replied.
She was unable to get comfortable and wasn't sure if it was the chair, the way he was trying to make casual the austere environment or the nervousness he tried to cover with his smile. All of it unsettled her.
"You've rather piqued my curiosity requesting a private meeting with me, Lady Longbottom."
The question was voiced casually even though the hungry look never faded from Blaise's onyx-colored eyes. Hermione couldn't recall a time when she had been this close to Blaise Zabini. Certainly, Ministry functions required both their attendance but this matter was different and so she couldn't figure out why he was playing up the niceties.
"I have concerns," Hermione replied, hoping to get right to the point.
She had decided the moment she left Draco's side that she would do anything in her power to ensure his safety. Though she knew what she had to do, fear and guilt prevented her from going to Neville first, to tell him the truth. She had requested the meeting with Blaise behind her husband's back hoping to settle matters peacefully so that she could then deal with telling him the truth.
Blaise let out a sigh and then pressed the tips of his fingers together, watching Hermione over the tops.
"About?"
"The war is over, Commander. Don't we all seek peace?"
A frown marred Blaise's dark skin.
"It is becoming rather insufferable, is it not? You would be the third person this month who is asking me to back away from my mission. A mission, need I remind you, that the general wizarding populace is supportive of. You wish me to call back my Death Eater hunters?"
The question was silky but it held dangerous undertones. Hermione swallowed, sitting up straighter and not allowing him to see her anxiety. She countered his question with one of her own.
"If I'm not the only one, would you not consider rethinking your latest decisions?"
Blaise offered another smile. She thought it was meant to be one of appeasement but all she felt was condescension.
"I wonder…why is your husband not here in your place? Do you come to me with his concerns or is this a more…personal matter?"
He regarded her curiously.
"Does the Minister know you are here, questioning my decisions as if you believe you are better at military tactics than I? We all know you're a brilliant witch, Lady Longbottom. But no one is brilliant at everything."
Hermione withheld a curt reply, pressing her lips together for a moment before speaking tersely.
"My husband has much on his plate and I come in his place."
She knew that the words were partly a lie but she had gotten used to lies since the moment she had left the alienage. For a moment he stared at her and she felt a strange feeling washing over her.
Oh, no…
It was as if her mind was shimmering and melting, becoming malleable so that anyone who wanted to know what she was thinking-
Bloody hell, he's a Legilimens!
Hermione cleared her throat, her eyes flying open as she began to feverishly fight against Blaise's unwelcome intrusion. She had practiced with Harry when they had been in school but feared that her Occlumency skills needed a bit of work.
Sodding good time to get practice!
The office was filled with an electric silence as the two adversaries went head to head in a silent battle. Hermione fought to hide her true thoughts and intentions, thinking back instead to the horrific memories of being in the alienage and especially with Marcus Flint.
The gray cement walls…
The sound of imprisoned Muggle-borns begging her to save them…
The moment she had gazed into the eyes of a woman that had reminded Hermione of herself and her sad, sad eyes…
Justin's laugh…
She envisioned the orange, burning flames of the fire as they licked the navy sky, their heat causing the icy night horizon to haze over.
For a moment she was frozen by the horror all over again.
Some people were easier to read than others.
And Blaise found that sitting there facing Hermione Longbottom proved that pureblood supremacy was a myth. The witch before him had come from two Muggles and yet she possessed skills that rivaled all of the wizards and witches he knew of magical birth.
He could not break her no matter how hard he tried. Her mind was a veritable steel wall. This realization was impossibly irritating but at the same time disturbingly alluring.
Blaise caught hints of her thoughts; they were vague, foggy memories which included the color orange, an icy sky, a man's laugh and fear. He got nothing concrete however. There was no faces, no real thoughts and he could not gauge what she was hiding.
He finally stood angry and frustrated, eyes glittering as if lit with fire from behind them.
"You think you can hide something from me?" he hissed.
Hermione stood up as well.
"I'm not hiding a thing, Commander," she lied boldly.
Blaise sensed a flicker of triumph in her face and in that moment he wished to crush her like the annoying insect she was. At the same time he felt the overwhelming need to possess her, to hold her worthless life in his own hands so that he could do what he wished with her.
Instead he took a breath and offered her a smile that cloaked his growing hatred for both the Minister and his nosy, insufferable little wife.
"I am no fool, Lady Longbottom," he began. "And I know you must have ulterior motives for wanting peace. Once I find out what they are…"
The woman's lip twitched.
"I think it shows very little professionalism to use Legilimency, Commander. It's as if you don't trust me. And after all, I have only good intentions unlike some who work for the Minister. It is unfortunate that he's too wrapped up in his business to know how closely his enemy lurks."
There was nothing in her expression or words to imply that she was threatening him but Blaise felt…defensive. The feeling of being helpless passed quickly, however, and was soon replaced with rage of a passionate variety. It rushed through him, leaving him breathless and his fingers trembling from the desire to rip her apart. The need to destroy her was nearly as passionate as the need to claim her.
"I suppose that is a threat?"
The coolness of his words bellied his suddenly fevered needs.
Blaise watched a smirk play on her lips.
"I wouldn't say that, Commander. Just remember, we are all working for peace here. You ought to mind our overall goal and stop with this fancy to eradicate the new world. There will always be Death Eaters. You need only roll up your sleeve to know that. Have you forgotten already? Or is that why you walk around here covering that all up? Perhaps you should stop accusing me of lying when you're the biggest liar of all."
Blaise saw red at the woman's obvious confidence and the way she carried herself as she walked to the door. She was too bloody confident and he vowed in that moment that he'd destroy whatever was left of her. He realized he was sorry he had ever helped her in the first place.
"We shall see about that, Lady Longbottom. We shall see about that."
Then he watched her go and when he was finally alone, panic set in and he felt the way he had at the start of the wizarding war – a mere man stuck under the thumb of a tyrant dark wizard. Only this time he would not allow himself to be helpless. This time he would do what he had set out to do. He would destroy all those that had destroyed him.
Ireland
Hermione felt a helpless anxiety settle over her as, several hours later, she apparated to Seamus and Ginny's cottage. She took refuge there in the verdant, green valley where the small family had made their home. Even during the war, after Neville had gone off to fight she had found peace there. And she often returned when her nerves were pulled tight or frazzled.
This was no exception and she sat at their large, wooden table in the airy kitchen sipping on a cool drink.
"It's a dilemma to be sure," Seamus commented, swinging one leg over the rung of a chair facing the windows. Ginny stood in the alcove that they called a kitchen working on something for dinner.
Hermione sighed.
"I know he's…suspicious of me," she found herself admitting, unable to gaze into Seamus' friendly eyes for a few moments.
Ginny came around a corner, holding a spoon in one hand and shoving a stray strand of red gold hair that had escaped her plait behind her ear. For a few moments there was only the distant shrieks and laughter from the children outside.
"Why would he be?"
Hermione glanced at her old friend and then sighed, wishing she could share with Ginny all that she had been through since Draco had walked into her life once more. He was the deepest, darkest secret she had ever hidden and her fear paralyzed her even though she knew she would never be able to give him up.
"What?"
"Why would he be suspicious of you?"
For a moment Hermione was silent and then she began to speak in a faltering tone.
"I've convinced Neville to…to help the remaining Death Eaters to escape England."
The silence was a heavy one and Seamus' boot made a loud thud against the wooden floor.
"Sweet Jaysus on a Jobberknoll!" he exclaimed in a whisper. "Are you mental?"
Ginny had nearly dropped her spoon, mouth dropping open.
"Do you know how that'll look, Hermione?"
Hermione had known, deep down, how her friends would react to the news. She didn't blame them. After all, the war had been because of a few polluted, prejudiced minds and the manic, insanity of one of the darkest wizards ever to exist. She didn't blame them for the resentment and hatred because too much pain and suffering had been dealt and nothing could change that.
She was saddened to think that even in the new, post-war world, true peace might never be found.
"I don't care," she said brokenly. "How can we possibly move on from the horrors we endured if we treat them the way they treated us?"
Ginny's brown eyes flickered with pain for a moment, her face a mask of confusion and sadness.
"I don't know how you could forgive some of the things you went through, Hermione. Call me selfish but I don't think I am. Those tyrants took my children from me! They put me through horrors I never want to speak of!"
Her eyes swam with tears of hatred and frustration.
"They killed my family and destroyed all my happiness! James, Albus and Lily have to grow up without their real father and it's because of them! I'm a forgiving woman but sometimes you just can't! You just can't."
She fled from the room pushing Seamus hands away at the last minute and left only the two sitting at the table. Hermione sighed, trembling slightly.
"I understand how she feels," she whispered.
"I want to believe you, to be sure. Me mind tells me that…there's much more to this."
As much as she wanted to unload her burden, Hermione pressed her lips closed tightly refusing to speak for a long while. It was Seamus who broke the tense silence.
"If you stand against Blaise, many will oppose you, they will. Why, Dean…God love me best mate…he practically worships the bloody ground that sod walks on!"
And that was the truth, Hermione knew. She had noticed a quiet change in Neville within the last few days and she knew him well enough to sense that it was a Ministry matter. Most of the time she left well enough alone but sometimes there was a spark, a look, a sigh that made her wonder if perhaps he was reconsidering his decision to keep Blaise Zabini on as the Commander of the Alliance.
Then again if he had made the choice to relieve Blaise of his duties would it have caused a riot? Seamus was no fool and although he knew more about the inside workings of the Ministry than the average wizard still Hermione could sense the subtle respect he had for Zabini.
She looked up into his florid, freckled face for a few moments.
"Seamus, I just…I don't know about him."
"Aye, Ginny's always been mistrustful, it's true."
Once more Hermione was reminded of the man who had so intimately tried to infiltrate her thoughts. She saw his face, the hatred in his eyes – the determination and hunger.
"He's not right; I've always thought so."
"Sure."
"So why do people trust him?"
"He's a war hero, so he is. Though I think people just need someone to believe in."
"So why not Neville? He's a bloody war hero too!"
The petulant outburst lay between them and beyond the wide kitchen windows the sun played hide and seek behind thick, gray and white clouds.
"Some people are born into power. Like Zabini. Others have it thrust upon them and they're not that comfortable with it. I'd bet me life that Neville's the latter, Hermione."
Despite Seamus' explanation, neither of them could truly answer her question and it filled Hermione with a deep sadness. She stood and moved to the door that led out to the tiny courtyard which was surrounded by green grass and Ginny's garden. The children played in the distance and she felt Seamus come up behind her.
"How many Death Eaters have there been?"
She didn't speak, afraid to share even with Seamus the truth of her actions.
"I remember the first time I saw you again, Hermione. At the hotel, in that red dress. I remember the way Malfoy talked to you. Are you surprised that people are wondering what your motives are?"
Hermione whirled to face her friend.
"I have no motives!" she lied tearfully. "And you shouldn't speak of things you don't understand!"
He put out his hands with a sigh.
"Aye, it's not just me. But you're right, so you are. You make me mind spin."
Hermione put her face in her near trembling hands wanting to tell Seamus that his mind was not the only one that was spinning. Her whole world seemed to be spinning in an uncontrollable vertigo and she couldn't stop it. She didn't want to lie. She didn't want to keep such a secret but she also knew that she wanted Draco safe and with such opposition and the possibility that not even those she loved would understand why-
"There were only a few dozen, Seamus. I started helping two months ago and…Neville agreed. He wasn't happy but he agreed."
"Where are they?"
"North of here, near to where they broke ground a few days ago."
She stared out at the hazy afternoon horizon and watched the clouds move along the sky lazily.
"I know it makes no sense," she continued.
"They tortured you and left you sick and hungry. Treated you like the dirt under me shoe. Sure, they caused those scars you be sporting! And Malfoy that right bloody git acting like you were his whore! It's all disgusting, it is!"
Seamus had turned pink in his passion.
"Listen to me," she said. "It wasn't like that with Draco!"
Seamus let out a snort.
"So how was it?"
Hermione hated the ridicule she sensed in his voice but she refused to cry facing him with her chin up.
"You wouldn't believe the truth if I told you."
"Try me, Hermione. I know what happened in those alienages. Muggle-borns raped, murdered and tortured! Children taken away from their mothers by a right ole cow like Pansy Parkinson! I know, believe me!"
"I wasn't raped," Hermione insisted.
"Then why can't you talk about what happened? Why do you lie to us and to your husband?"
Hermione struggled with a flood of emotion.
"I can't talk about what happened, Seamus! I can't dwell on what I did and what they did to me!"
"Aye right, Hermione!"
"It's true!"
"And still you say they didn't force you?"
"I wasn't raped," she repeated with growing insistence.
"So how do you explain Leo?"
The words hit Hermione like curse and she stumbled back, her mouth falling open.
"What are you saying?"
"Or did you give them a good old shag willingly, Hermione?" he asked.
The fact that he was disgusted could not have been clearer and without thinking Hermione lifted up her hand and smacked Seamus across the face with as much force as she could muster.
"You clueless, stupid, can of piss!" she exclaimed in surprise and shock that someone she had valued as a friend could have uttered such disgusting things about Leo.
Seamus stumbled back against the force of Hermione's slap, fumbling for his wand and dropping it in the process. Hermione quickly pulled out her own wand in defense, raising it up just as Seamus stood, holding his own.
"Go ahead and try," she challenged between ragged breaths.
"I swear on me mum's grave, but you've gone mental!"
Hermione, still angry, lifted her wand against Seamus just as Ginny flew out of the cottage, red-gold plait flying behind her.
"Stop it, the both of you!" she demanded in horror. "Have you both gone totally mad?" she cried out, her brown eyes incredulous as she glared from he best friend to her husband.
Neither moved, both still holding their wands aloft. Now there was no sound but the birds chirping, offering a seemingly peaceful song in spite of the thick tension. Finally, Hermione lowered her wand, her arm going limp at her side. But her eyes continued to flash angrily in Seamus' direction.
"Don't you ever dare say anything about my son again, do you hear me?"
"Go and shite, Hermione! I'm bleeding tired of you and yer secrets!"
"Even if I wanted to talk about what's happened to me all those years I wouldn't share it with a stupid, prejudiced bastard like you anyway!"
With that, she turned and fled into the cottage, wishing she could get away, far away, but knowing she couldn't.
The first clinic was completed in record time and as Neville stood facing the grove of trees and the finished building beyond them on the third afternoon of the building, Pansy Parkinson approached for the first time since their last conversation. She had spent the majority of the time in Ireland preparing to help transfer some of the sick and those who couldn't move on their own to the new building until a safe haven could be found. She had worked with a feverish intensity and he had gotten used to coming to the building site and never hearing a word from her except for whispering while she helped those unable to help themselves.
Neville knew he didn't have much time. If someone were to find out what he was doing and why, he would be faced with a lot of questions he didn't have answers to. As he turned to see Pansy approaching he asked himself again why he was doing this thing. Was he a benevolent and kind leader? Did he fear Hermione's anger and the strain on their marriage? Did he even believe in this thing called peace even though many in the wizarding world wanted nothing more than to see the last remnants of those with the Mark erased from the world?
If that happens, wouldn't we be just as bad as they? Isn't that what Voldemort had wanted to do?
The realization unsettled Neville and when Pansy stopped next to him he felt tension roiling within him. Even though he knew Zabini's ideas to be too radical, Neville also believed that there would be many that would stand behind him if anyone was to question his most recent decisions.
What was most unnerving was the small missive he had received earlier that day from Hermione about a meeting she had requested with Zabini.
What does he want from her and what is she hiding?
Neville's thoughts served only to increase his anxiety and finally he gave up on thinking, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths.
"Minister."
Her voice was soft and for a woman who seemed so formidable, she possessed a certain unexplainable grace in both the way she carried herself and the way she wielded her wand.
"Parkinson."
There was a long silence as the breeze picked up rustling the green leaves that decorated the trees around them.
"I want to thank you again for everything you have done for me and for those with me," she continued. "I am not certain we will see each other again after today and so I needed to say it again."
Neville glanced at her for a moment. She was no so pale that day, a bit of color staining her alabaster cheeks.
"You're welcome," he replied stoically and then they stood in silence.
"Have you thought about what I said?" she questioned a moment later.
Neville did not respond right away. The truth was that he had been able to think of nothing but and it had been unnerving. Throughout meetings with his staff and meetings about military strategy in the future he had wondered what would happen if he eliminated Zabini's position. Would there be a riot? Would he be removed from the Minister's seat?
"I have."
The words were milder than everything he was feeling inside and Neville was surprised.
"I know it will be a hard decision and my intent wasn't to put you in a position that you had to choose. I will respect you no matter what your choice is as you and your wife showed me kindness even though I did not deserve it."
For a moment his worries about the Ministry faded away as he looked at the woman at his side.
"Can I ask you something?"
Pansy nodded her head slightly and Neville found himself continuing.
"What did you do? Before Voldemort's Ministry fell?"
He was once again surprised with himself and at his realization that he was actually interested in what she had to say. Pansy raised two perfectly arched brows and Neville noticed that they were the only delicate thing about her face.
"I worked for the Department of International Magical Cooperation."
It was the last thing he had expected her to say. Certainly, Neville had known that the Ministry under Death Eater control had been much different than the one he had helped rebuild the second time around. But still he had expected Pansy to have taken more…action.
"Surprised, Minister?"
"It's just that with your wand work I expected…something different, I suppose."
She laughed wryly. It was a beautiful sound.
"Well, Voldemort's Ministry was quite different. I worked for that particular department but in reality I was Bella Lestrange's assistant."
Neville felt a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach at the sound of Pansy's words. 'Bella' would never have been what he would have called her. Evil and sadistic seemed much better words, much more appropriate. There was a long silence as Neville fought against memories of his parents and a loss that had been so deep it had cut a chasm in his heart that nothing had been able to fill.
"I see," he choked out, his jaw clenched as he stared out at nothing. "And what did you do for her?"
Neville wasn't even certain why he wanted to know.
"Whatever she asked of me," said Pansy cryptically. "I wanted to be accepted; I would have done nearly anything."
Something about Pansy's tone made Neville turn to look at her and he found himself wondering why there was so much regret that lingered in her eyes. It was the war, of course. It had a way of destroying each person involved in different ways.
"And?"
"And I did."
A silence had fallen over Ginny's back room. Her voice was a roughened whisper when she spoke.
"Can you blame Seamus?"
Hermione was blinking hard to keep from crying and she said nothing in response, her head down and her hands clenched in her lap. Ginny continued.
"Merlin, Hermione! Why would you have Neville and I keep such a secret! If they only looked closer at Leo they would know he was Draco's!"
Hermione's reply was strained.
"What good would it do to tell Seamus? Or Charlie, Angelina or Dean…or anyone?"
She would not move from her place on the small sofa.
"I don't blame them for how they feel but I can't…I can't hurt Leo that way! I can't tell them that his father was a Death Eater and that I willingly…that I loved- that I had these feelings and I don't know what to-"
She was crying and Hermione felt Ginny's arms slip around her shoulders like they had so many times before at the alienage and throughout their lives. She leaned into her friend and began to cry, feeling the aching burden of her deceit and fear falling away just a bit.
"I never wanted you to feel guilty for loving him, Hermione. I only thought I did because I was angry and upset about what had happened the night of the fire. I know you loved him and you shouldn't be ashamed."
For a long while, Hermione could not speak and took comfort from Ginny's gentle words.
"Neville deserves to know what he's missed. Maybe not all the details because I don't know if I'd have the strength for those recollections…but he's so worried for you. He always has been," she continued in a quiet reminder. "And I…I only ever wanted to know what happened after I left."
Hermione sat up, wiping her eyes and feeling incredibly tired, as if she hadn't slept for years. She was lying to everyone she loved and even though most of her didn't want to say a word, she knew Ginny deserved to know everything. In the end she could only tell her a fraction of what she deserved to know.
She spoke in monotone, recalling the moments after the fire, the beating, the fact that she had lost a baby she hadn't known existed. She told Ginny of the pain she and Draco had suffered and then finally of their escape.
Her words were thick with tears and cracked when she felt uncertain but still she carried on.
"I know you hate her, Gin but the truth is without Pansy Parkinson I would never have gotten free. She helped me escape."
Ginny's freckles began to stand out against the pallor that suddenly flooded her features.
"You can't expect me to forgive her what she did to Lily," she replied in a voice that was tight and trembling with rage.
Hermione let out a saddened sigh.
"No, I don't. I told her that nothing she did could ever make up for what-"
Ginny interrupted by crushing her hand painfully across Hermione's.
"You've talked to her?" she hissed in disbelief before a realization washed across her features. "She's one of the ones…the ones you're helping, isn't she?"
Hermione gazed at Ginny with helplessness.
"I couldn't just let her…I couldn't just ignore her pleas after what she did for me! Don't you understand? If it weren't for her, I wouldn't be here!"
Ginny stared down at Hermione, eyes flashing hatefully in a face that lacked all color now. She was visibly torn, one part of her wanting to lash out at Hermione's impossible stupidity and the other desperately wanting to understand that everything Hermione had ever done was because she had been given no choice.
"But to offer her help? After what she did to you? And what she did to Lily?"
"I know," Hermione replied miserably, dropping her head in shame. "You can't imagine what I felt when I saw her again. I never thought I would; I never believed that in my new life she would ever cross paths with me again. But how could I turn on her when she saved my life?"
After what seemed like a moment of eternity, Hermione watched Ginny's body fall limp. Her cheeks turned pink against her pale flesh as she began to breathe more easily.
"I'll never understand, Hermione. I love you and because of that I…"
She pressed her lips together until they formed a thin, white line.
"Don't ever ask me to help you," she warned tersely.
"I won't," Hermione whispered.
In the end she knew she was walking alone. She wouldn't allow herself to believe that others would ever think like she did and she would never expect them to. As she stared blindly down at her hands she felt Ginny sitting down next to her once more.
"You need to tell Neville. He deserves to know about Pansy, Draco and Leo…everything that's happened."
Hermione shuddered wondering how different it would have been if Draco had truly been dead like Ginny thought.
"I'm afraid," she whispered truthfully, unable to look up at her friend. She felt Ginny's touch on her arm.
"Don't think for a moment that I haven't forgotten what you sacrificed to keep Lily safe. For that, I am grateful. I promise that I'll never stop protecting your son, Hermione. So you don't have to worry about Zabini's…Hunters or whatever bloody hell he's calling them. He likely knows that Leo is Draco's but if I have anything to do with it, he'll never be able to punish him for it."
The horror that claimed Hermione's soul at the thought that Zabini might try to do such a thing left her speechless even in the face of Ginny's promises.
"Don't even dream such a thing; I can't bear the thought!"
Her words were fearful and once more Ginny took her hand in reassurance.
"Hermione, what are you so afraid of?"
Hermione considered the question and realized that nothing short of the truth would be a sufficient answer. She looked up at Ginny.
"You have to swear to me on your parents' graves that what I tell you right now stays between just us."
The gravity of her words was unmistakable and Hermione gripped Ginny's hand her eyes begging an answer in silence.
"Hermione, I told you already that they would understand! Seamus, Dean-"
Hermione shook her head.
"No. I need you to promise me, Gin."
Finally, Ginny relented.
"I promise."
Hermione took a breath.
"Draco's not dead," she revealed tremulously. "I know where he is."
Hermione had expected the gasp and then the stark silence that followed. She waited a moment before daring to glance up at her friend, not certain what she would find awaiting her. Ginny looked shocked, her mouth having fallen open slightly in her surprise.
"T-this whole time?" she whispered in shock.
Hermione bit her lip and nodded in hesitation.
"He's…he's outside of London. He…I've been protecting him."
"You know where he is?"
Ginny's voice was followed only by Hermione's nod.
"And he's alive?"
"Yes."
Ginny's expression melted from confusion into a mild realization.
"So all this time you've been helping them…because he's alive?"
Hermione felt her eyes pooling with fresh tears and she shook her head, speaking thickly.
"No, not just because of that!" she exclaimed, feeling ashamed at the selfishness that she was obviously exhibiting. "You know that if we don't try…we'll never be free of all this prejudice. The war might be over but there won't ever be true peace! Don't you want that for your children? For Leo? For all the children not yet born?"
Ginny did not reply but her expression was terse and she would not look at Hermione. The silence was piercing.
"Is he with the others?"
Hermione took a shaking breath.
"No, no…he's…there's a house. He's been hiding."
Ginny finally gazed upon her friend, searching Hermione's broken expression and knowing without having to ask, where Draco was.
"Bloody hell, the house you purchased for the Ministry!"
The expression was not a question; it was a certainty.
"So you've spoken to him? Not just…"
Hermione began to sob in earnest.
"I never meant to let it get so out of control," she swore. "I only wanted to make sure he was all right, to spend a moment with him! I want him to be safe and…"
Time stopped for a second and Hermione felt frozen until she felt the warmth of Ginny's touch.
"And you love him," Ginny finished.
"It's a shameful thing," Hermione spat, disgusted with herself and yet unable to deny the truth.
"No, love is never shameful. You love him."
Hermione sat up, still clasping Ginny's hands tightly in her own.
"I love Neville," she insisted, her voice trembling with determination. "My vows are to him and my life with is him! I should never have stopped! I shouldn't have allowed myself to feel again for someone else. I chose Neville and now, no matter what I do, I'm going to destroy someone's life!"
It felt somehow liberating to Hermione as the words tumbled from her lips, lightening her soul and eliminating some of the dark burden she had been carrying. Gently, Ginny wrapped her arms around Hermione and pulled her into a hug.
"Oh, Hermione, there are so many ways to love someone," she murmured. "You can't do this to yourself. You can't help loving two men."
Hermione leaned on her friend's shoulder as she shook her head miserably.
"I just don't know what to do," she mumbled.
"What about Draco? What does he say?" Ginny asked softly.
"He feels the same way I do! And yet something…pulls us together and I can't explain it, Gin! It's more powerful than magic…more…it's as pathetic as knowing that without him I'm only half a person. Like if he's gone, my life isn't worth living."
Ginny was silent, watching Hermione as she spoke.
"I…they would all think I was horrid," she whispered. "If they knew I loved him even before he swore to protect me, even before he showed me the good inside of him. I loved him in spite of his Mark and in that way…I feel like I've turned on all those people who love me."
Ginny shook her head, her eyes watering for a moment.
"No, darling, you haven't. You're good and honest and you deserve all the happiness in the world. I'm only sorry that I can't fix this for you."
She fell silent and her words echoed for a few moments before silence reigned. It was a horrible, unsettled silence, for Hermione had hoped to somehow fix all her problems. But of course that had been a fool's fancy.
A few moments later, Ginny straightened and stood turning a sympathetic gaze down on Hermione.
"You have to remember your family, Hermione. You have a son and a husband! I know this isn't easy but keeping this a secret…it's not right."
Hermione nodded, swallowing the thickness that had settled in her throat, which was still sore from her sobbing.
"Draco's seen Leo."
"What!"
"I brought him here," Hermione whispered hurriedly. "So Draco could look and I…how can I hurt Draco that way? How can I take his son away from him?"
She grew increasingly agitated.
"And if I tell Neville the truth it'll destroy him! I can't be responsible for that! I love him too!"
Ginny sighed, her hand on the doorknob.
"You can't keep Draco hidden forever," she reminded gravely. "Sooner or later, if Zabini has his way, he'll be caught. If you can help him escape, you'll lose him either way."
Hermione was riveted to the spot, staring up at Ginny, her mouth going sour. It was true; Hermione knew she had been living from moment to moment, not thinking about what she would do when the time came to say good-bye.
I want you, Draco, for as long as I can have you.
Those words echoed in the recesses of her mind, a cruel reminder of the short time she might have with the man who held her whole heart.
"I know it," she said flatly.
Ginny bit her lip.
"I will never stop being on your side, Hermione. But I don't envy the choice you'll have to make one day. I can only hope that you take my advice and tell Neville. He deserves to know and you might need him someday."
Hermione dropped her eyes in shame staring down at her hands clenched so tightly together the knuckles had gone white. Ginny had told her the unwelcome truth and she knew that she would have to find a way to tell the truth. She could only pray and hope that it wouldn't destroy everything she had worked so hard to build.
What choice did she have?