Life is busy! I have a full house and three children every other weekend – plus work. Thanks again for all the support! I hope you continue to enjoy.
LCailan
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
London
Hermione and Draco faced off against each other on the stoop of the house she shared with Neville.
She hadn't intended to bring Draco there; it seemed somehow wrong to bring the man who had claimed her heart to the home that she shared with a husband that she could never love as much as she loved Draco.
So terribly wrong.
"You don't know that it's me Zabini's after!"
The walk leading up to the massive stone house was empty and the landscaping and trees in the distance did not offer many places to hide. Neville had made it so because of the nature of his position; one could never be too trusting. Hermione was glad for it now because she still feared someone might see Draco and recognize him for who he was beneath the disguise.
"Draco, don't be foolish! You know he's dangerous!"
The words were hushed pleas as they fell from her lips and she glared up at him angrily. Draco had chosen this moment to be difficult, to stand his ground – this moment, when everything was hanging precariously in a balance and the fallout was unpredictable. It was maddening.
For a moment it seemed that he would once more present a rebuttal to her words but in the end, Draco relented and lapsed into a tense silence. The birds sang gaily in the nearby trees and Hermione could hear the whispered rustling of the wind against their leaves. She searched his eyes the next time he spoke, trying to read the inexplicable expression in their depths.
"I only wanted to see Leo one last time. I know what I said, Hermione. I knew that I'd have to…leave eventually but don't you understand? It's so bloody hard to leave my family. MY family! It doesn't matter that Neville's your husband."
Draco reached down to clasp her hand with fervor.
"It won't ever matter; I'm Leo's father."
Hermione's eyes shimmered as she pulled him closer.
"I know it. I would never refute that; I never have. God knows even in the darkest hours when I though I would never see you again-"
She looked away from Draco's gaze and towards the house.
"But it's not about you and Leo. It's not about trying to keep you from your son. The reality is that Neville's been maliciously attacked; I don't know who might be next but I know I have to protect the people I love the most. You and Leo."
There was a silence and Draco found himself unable to argue with her logic. Zabini was a madman; it might always have been so. He recalled moments of their friendship, like blurry, faded snapshots. School, Quidditch, and then the Ministry…the long hours, the weekends of pub hopping…the fact that Zabini had done what he could to save Hermione.
Draco even remembered the clear love that had shone in Zabini's eyes when he had spoken of Lavender and Daisy. It seemed unreal that so much had changed. That underneath all that Zabini had been a man unhinged.
His jaw quivered slightly and he pushed all thoughts of Zabini away.
"Just another moment, that's all I want, Hermione. If you could just let me see Leo again for a few minutes…"
His longing was a sudden, tangible emotion. Hermione found herself relenting and just as she pulled his hand towards her home there was a disturbance behind them that made her stop.
They turned to see a blinding, white light racing through the trees, making the leaves shimmer as if with pristine frost. The white fog moved towards them, twisting and turning, as if trying to take on a solid shape. For a few seconds it seemed to thicken before once more dissipating into a glimmering fog.
"What in Merlin's balls is-?"
Then, Hermione knew.
It's a Patronus!
At the realization her stomach lurched, dropped and she felt the picnic food she had consumed threaten her. She had only felt this way one other occasion: on the day Bill had married Fleur.
She recalled the laughter and happiness at the wedding reception afterwards and the way Kingsley had sent his Patronus-
Kingsley – gone just like so many others…
The Patronus was nearly upon them and Hermione anticipated recognition – but the fog never became corporeal. Before either of them could utter a word there was a voice that emanated from somewhere within the sparkling fog.
"Protect your child, Hermione."
It was a female voice, and a weak and frightened one at that.
"Protect your child."
It was strained and quiet.
Hermione felt her blood run cold and her body freeze even though the only thing she wanted to do was break away and gather her son into her arms.
"What the bloody fuck is going on?"
Draco's anger broke through Hermione's terror.
"Draco-"
He tore away from Hermione's grip and launched himself at the glimmering mass. Nothing happened and then the scared, female voice spoke again.
"Hurry, Hermione. He has Neville. I can't…I shouldn't be doing... They know about me. They know I saw you in that alleyway."
Hermione gasped.
"Lavender! Where are you? If you're not safe come-"
"No, Hermione. I can't. But you can't wait another second. Go."
Suddenly the shimmering Patronus seemed to waver and fade. At first there was nothing to be heard but then Hermione made out a strangled cry and just like that, the Patronus was gone.
The silence that followed was startling. Hermione could only hear the loud hammering of he own heart and with every beat, Lavender's words echoed over and over, like a litany.
Protect your child.
She wasn't even aware that Draco ran after her as she turned and dashed towards the house.
Lavender struggled like a ferocious animal, trying to tear away from the iron-like grip of her husband.
"Let me go!"
The words were uttered over and over from behind clenched lips, a seeming tirade against all the wrongs that had been done to her over the years.
"Let me go!"
She was a hard one to subdue, Blaise knew. She had always been a fighter – a force to be reckoned with.
"Stop it, you silly bint!"
He was breathing against her ear and even as Lavender struggled she felt his touch against her flesh, cold and clammy, as if he were a reptile and not a man. She had been touched this way, felt these feelings too many times to count in too many unmentionable places. She would no longer look at him as her husband but just as another man who had wanted to use her for his own ends. He was not – had not been – any different.
But, oh, Merlin! It hurt so bloody much because Lavender had wanted-
She began to struggle harder and when it seemed futile she leaned down and sank her teeth into the fleshy part of the top of his hand causing him to yelp up in pain and surprise, giving her the moment of time she needed to finally free herself. Heart pounding furiously, she broke into a run across the dirty alley but he caught up to her in less than a second and Lavender was thrown against the damp, brick wall of the east facing building.
"You bitch," he hissed, so close that she felt his spittle against her flesh. "You betrayed me and now you dare run from me?!"
Lavender refused to cower, simply staring up at him with defiance.
"You've long ago gotten from me what you've wanted," she replied. "Let me go, Blaise."
The words were oddly calm and sad in the face of their struggle and perhaps it was this that caused Blaise to pause and watch her intently, the silence spreading across a lengthening time.
"After everything I've done for you? You would treat me as second rate? You would defy me and blatantly betray my trust?"
Each word was sharp, as if he intended to pierce her soul with his words. The wand that dangled between his long fingers trembled.
"You, the woman I loved for so long? The mother of my child?"
"I can't stand it anymore! Is there nothing you won't do to hurt those around you?! I loved you too! I wanted a life, a family with YOU! It was that very thing which got me through the darkest moments of my life!"
At her outcry, Blaise reached out and struck her across the face with his palm. Lavender's eyes watered but she did not cry.
"You ungrateful, little wench," he hissed, yanking on her arm so that she winced with pain. "I should flog you for daring to speak to me that way!"
"For daring to tell the truth?"
"You deserve to rot."
She lifted her chin.
"Do your best then; it is not like it'll matter. You can't kill me, Blaise. I'm already dead."
The words she had long ago uttered to Draco Malfoy rang across the damp, musty space between them. His lip turned up in a sneer.
"Death is too good for you," he replied. She stared at him.
Lavender's arse had long ago gone numb from sitting in one place too long. The coldness from the cement floor of her prison had seeped into her very bones and she was unable to stop her shivering.
Blaise had taken her wand; he had stripped her of any and all of her defenses. All she had left was the wandless magic she had learned as she had trudged through life. Not that it would have done her any good. She was in a room that was nearly dark and she was chained to the wall, the metal cuffs secure around her thin wrists so that nothing she had tried could loosen them. She was trapped.
Lavender shifted a bit to try and ease the ache of her lower half and as she had done a thousand times in the last several hours, her eyes flickered towards the form lying on the other side of the room. A terrible guilt flooded her, bringing with it the terrible iciness that froze her heart.
Lavender knew who the lifeless form was and she also knew that it was her fault he was there.
"Neville," she whispered.
She wondered if anyone might be able to tell the heaviness of her guilt just from the way she said his name.
"Neville, can you hear me?"
She had tried this over and over again and he had not moved. Each moment that passed filled her with greater grief than the last. The idea that she was sharing a cell with dead man was not what terrified her. No, she feared only that God, if He existed, would never forgive her for the sins she had committed.
Neville had never been anything but kind to Lavender. She remembered the awkward boy he had been in school and then…the man he had become over time. He had been the one to defeat Voldemort; he had saved thousands and thousands of Muggle-borns and half bloods. He had done it himself; the same boy they had all made fun off so long ago.
And now he lay there, possibly dead…
And it's my fault!
The tears that she would not shed in front of her husband glimmered in her eyes now, burning like fire.
"Neville."
He had been a good man – a just, fair man. He had been the Minister. He had married Hermione, had become a father to a boy who wasn't even his! What man existed who was as selfless, as good? All her resentment and jealousy would not erase the truth – this was the truest man that existed. None was better.
What if I murdered him? What if my fear of Blaise brought on Neville's senseless death?
Closing her eyes brought Lavender some relief but the monster of guilt began to chew away at her heart.
What have I done?
Lavender wondered if Blaise had known how she would feel. He could, after all, read her mind – she had never been able to hide anything from him. What if this was what he had meant? If death was too good for her then what of this Hell? Would she be here, staring at her guilt forever? Would Blaise not let her see Daisy again? Would this be her life until her last breath?
"Neville!"
Her voice cracked in the darkness, more insistent then before but to no avail.
How long had he been here? She could not remember when she had cursed the teacup. Days now? Weeks, perhaps? He had been at St. Mungo's, this she knew, but after?
Shuddering, Lavender dropped her head, her eyes still burning impossibly.
"Please, please, forgive me," she whispered to no one at all.
Leo looked up, startled, when the door to his room crashed open. A man stood there, dressed in ragged robes. He wore a peculiar look on his dirty face and he smelled bad.
"Who you?"
Leo asked the question without thinking, for his mother had taught him over and over again never to speak to someone he didn't know. But if he didn't know this man, why was he in their house? He had wanted to tell the nanny but in the end, Leo decided he was too big to go running to a grownup, no matter what Mama told him. And anyway, his borrowed daddy was the Mister for Magic. So that meant lots of people might come through the house and he wouldn't know them.
The stinky man spoke.
"My name is Fenrir."
He had a growly sort of voice, Leo decided as he watched the man with wide, gray eyes. Kind of like a dog. He had long, scraggly hair like he hadn't combed it in days. And his teeth were yellow and pointed.
"Are you looking for my Daddy? He's in da horspidal."
The man called Fenrir smiled at Leo. The little boy decided he didn't like the smile; he decided that he didn't like anything about the man called Fenrir. Everything about him made Leo feel like running to the nanny. Everything but his eyes because they were blue and blue meant happy.
Except that Leo knew somehow that this man was not happy.
"I've actually come to see you."
Again there was the growly voice that made Leo's belly feel funny, like he was scared except he wasn't because he wasn't a baby anymore.
Leo stared back at Fenrir as he stood up on the bed.
"I wanna get my nanny. She does not like me talking ta peoples I don't know."
The man called Fenrir had stepped into the room completely and the strange, scary smile remained on his scraggly face.
"Even if I told you I know your daddy is out of the hospital?"
Leo stopped just as his mouth had opened to call out to the nanny. The room was silent as the little boy considered the older man. The offer seemed much too enticing to the child.
"Where he go, den, if he's outta da horspital? This is his house."
Fenrir reached out towards Leo with one hand. He had long, dirty fingernails, the kind that Mama hated. She always made him wash his hands when his nails got like that. He eyed the hand mistrustfully.
"I don't wanna hold your hand."
The man called Fenrir offered a loud laugh that made Leo want to cry.
"You don't have a choice, Poppet."
Leo let out a squeaky sound and wished that his Mama was there. He wished his Daddy was there too, and Etamin. He liked Etamin. He wished Luna hadn't left so quickly and he wondered what had happened to the nanny.
Then he stared as Fenrir pulled out a long black wand just like the kind Mama had. So he was a whiz!
As the man stepped towards him, Leo felt Fenrir's ugly fingers clamp down on his own so that it hurt. He didn't want to cry but in the end he did. He cried even though he wanted to be a big boy.
"I want my Mama!"
"You'll get her soon enough," sneered Fenrir.
Leo gagged when he was pressed against the folds of the ugly man's robes. For a moment he wished really hard for a wand. He wished he could fight.
There was a flash of light and Leo wished no more.
Hermione ran into the large foyer, breathless from her exertion.
She looked around trying to garner some sense of calm from the familiar surroundings. This was her home, the one she shared with her husband and son, no matter where her heart was. Her decorations were arranged about, there was the scent of summer flowers, the large, moving photographs of Neville and Leo…
A faint, squeaky cry sounded from upstairs. At first, Hermione was frozen but then her brain registered that it was the sound of her son crying.
"He's in his bedroom!" she cried out, not turning to see if Draco would follow. Instinctively she knew he would. Her heart had frozen at the sound of her son's crying and now it hammered wildly, the blood pumping within her body like a river of fire, fueling her to continue forward, to get to her son before whomever it was that was after him.
She would not lose her son – that much Hermione knew. If she lost everyone else, so be it, but she would not lose her son.
She ran down the hallway and through the open, wooden door of Leo's room just in time to see Fenrir Greyback cradling the body of her unconscious son.
"Let him go!" she raged, wielding her wand at the half-wolf.
Her body was tense with anger, the white-hot sort that made it difficult to breathe. Her mind whirled violently and the only coherent thought Hermione could grasp onto was the fact that she would protect her son.
"Let him go!"
Her demand was repeated when she saw nothing from Greyback except a smug grimace that she wanted to wipe from his disgusting, hateful face.
"Or what?" he replied curiously. "Will you hex me? Do you dare face me when I hold your son's life in my hands?"
He offered a wide smile, showcasing his yellow, ragged teeth.
"I love children, as you know. Always the tastiest."
Hermione's wand trembled slightly in the air as Greyback licked his lips. She felt her gorge rise for the second time in mere moments.
The wolf's eyes flickered away from Hermione.
"And what do we have here?" he asked, leering at Draco with interest.
For a moment the room was silent and Hermione wondered if Greyback could tell that it was Draco under the disguise.
"Why, if you aren't a little trollop! Cavorting with another man while the Minister lies helplessly in the hospital?"
He laughed and it sounded gleefully hateful. Hermione refused to budge or falter.
"You GIVE ME MY SON!" she screamed fighting the urge to show her fear. She couldn't; she couldn't let Greyback win!
Fenrir dangled Leo's body before her teasingly.
"Hmmm…seems I have something you want, yes? Perhaps if you come with me…?"
Hermione didn't have to think. She was certain that Draco would care for Leo if something happened to her, if for some reason both she and Neville perished.
She took a determined step forward, looking Greyback in the eyes.
"I'll do whatever I have to. Leave him and take me, then."
The wolf was silent, as if considering the new conditions. Just when Hermione was about to demand a reply she was startled by Draco's calm and quiet words from behind her.
"No. Take me instead. Leave Herm- the woman and the boy and take me."
Greyback's eyes flickered at him with interest.
"And why, pray tell, would I want you?"
Hermione watched in horror as Draco pushed up the long, white sleeve of his dress shirt to reveal the faded Mark on his pale forearm. For the first time since they had confronted him, Greyback looked shocked.
"Death Eater," he whispered. "Why, you're one of the wanted, aren't you?"
The words fell from his cracked lips with hungry anticipation. Hermione could nearly taste the wolf's excitement.
Draco did not move except to step closer to Greyback, offering himself completely.
"I am a wanted man. What do you want with the Minister's family?"
Draco's voice broke at the word 'family'.
"Who do you work for? Is it Zabini? He wants me; he wants us – the Death Eaters. Take me instead."
The wolf's eyes were two, shiny blue orbs of excitement and he didn't deny Draco's claims.
Hermione's heart stopped.
Neville was aware from the moment he regained his consciousness that he wasn't alone. How he knew that, he didn't know. The room was still nearly lightless and as he stared up into the darkness above him it wasn't like he could hear anyone else moving about.
The silence was a still as the tomb.
"Hello?"
His voice sounded aching and broken to his own ears. The reply he received was instantaneous, ripe with relief and something like joy.
"Oh, God! Oh, Neville, thank God! Thank God, are you…a-are you all right?"
A woman's voice – husky and honeyed. A voice that seemed familiar but one that wasn't intimate.
He heard the sound of shuffling, the clanging of chains against the cement and then a curse when the chains halted the progression of movement. She had been trying to get to him, whoever she was.
"Who are you?" Neville managed to ask.
He wondered how much time had passed. Hours? Days, perhaps?
"C-can you move any closer, Neville?"
Her voice was muted now as if darkened by the shadows. She was nearer to him now and at her beckoning, Neville managed to pull his aching body against the damp stone floor, closer, closer to her.
He thought of all the female voices in his life – his mother's comforting murmur in all his boyish memories, the voice of his friends in school, Luna's lilting voice reminding him of a time that he had loved her. The world-weary, husky words of Pansy Parkinson whom he had thought he hated and of course, his wife. Hermione's voice echoed in his mind.
"Who are you?"
Neville laid still now, his belly against stone and suddenly he felt the soft brush of another human hand against his own. It brought him more comfort than anything had since his abduction.
"Forgive me," she muttered painfully. "Please, I beg you. I never thought…I never…"
He lay in silence for a long moment, his body frozen as he waited for her to continue. But she did not and he found himself moving to wrap his fingers around hers. He heard the sound of her sobbing.
"I'm so afraid," she said. "I was so afraid of what he might do, you see. I wanted him to love me but he's not…he's not capable of that. I only wanted to be loved."
There was pain and shame in her smoky voice now and without having to ask, Neville knew.
"Lavender."
He could make out her soft choke of surprise but other than that, she was silent. For a moment he felt her grip his fingers tighter and the brush of her long curls against his flesh.
"I'm sorry," she repeated again. "It was me."
"You?"
"The teacup; I cursed the teacup."
Neville heard the remorse in her voice; he heard the fear that tinged the edges of her words. He knew she was sorry. But there was little left for him to be angry about.
"We all do things we're sorry for," he whispered in reply.
She was crying then; he could feel the wetness against his cool flesh.
"I thought I was doing the right thing! I thought because he was my husband that I ought-"
But there was more to her words; there was a deeper meaning to what she was saying. Neville wondered if he would ever know the truth.
Ireland
The only sound in the large, empty room was Dean's pacing.
The sound of his shoes against the new, wooden floors was as comforting as it was irritating. Nothing had been said since Ginny had Apparated to the still unoccupied building that would soon become one of the first post-war orphanages. Up until that day the only occupants had been the Death Eaters in hiding. They had made an ominous presence since Hermione had brought them there – never speaking, only waiting for whatever was to come. England meant eventual capture; Ginny was certain they knew that. They waited for freedom, or, at least something like it.
Hermione.
Ginny wondered where her friend was.
Was she still with Draco now? Were they trying to spend those last few, precious moments together before he joined the rest of the group here? Did she even know that Neville was missing?
Her heart constricted both with sadness for her friend and with fear that if they didn't act quickly the same thing that had happened to Neville would happen to someone else. Who was next? Leo? Hermione herself?
Oh, God. Neville.
She had made the announcement of his disappearance only moments before, causing the color to drain from both her husband and Dean's faces. But the one that was most stricken – and the one that surprised Ginny – was Luna.
Luna, who had never looked as stricken as she did right then. Luna, whose love for Neville was clearly written on her face, as ink was upon parchment.
Ginny felt a poignant rush of pain against the edges of her conscious thoughts as she recalled the feelings of realization that Harry was gone, that Harry was dead-
No. It wasn't going to be like that now. The war was over; the past was just that – the past.
Ginny glanced towards Luna who was sitting in the furthest corner, her fair hair framing her pale face like a filmy curtain. The other occupants of the large room were remnants of the former Alliance – those that were left, anyway.
Dean was the only one that had managed to remain standing the entire time, his anxiousness pushing him forward into incessant pacing. Seamus had contacted Charlie who had come with Angelina. They sat huddled together next to the empty place where Dean had been sitting. A few others were with them – but it was glaringly obvious that Hermione and Neville were missing.
To make matters worse, Luna had revealed to them all that had happened in the park earlier; they all knew the truth about Draco and Hermione and why she and Neville had agreed to help the last remnants of Death Eaters.
The room had fallen into silence only moments after Luna's revelations. After it had sunk in Ginny found that she was not surprised it had come out this way. The truth always had a way of coming out during the most unfortunate times.
I only wish that it didn't paint Hermione in such a horrible light.
"We ought to hurry."
Seamus sounded pained; Ginny recognized the fear and strain in his subdued tone. "Sure, I don't want to be caught helping them. I want to wipe my hands clean of this, I do!"
Someone coughed and then the blaming began.
"That's right! It's because of her that we're in this position!"
The voice caused Dean to stop pacing and the room fell into a stark silence.
Looking back on it, Ginny would never recall the person who spoke against Hermione first but it took no time at all for another to follow.
"Merlin's beard, whoever heard of the Minister's wife helping the likes of them after what they did to us? And Malfoy of all people? Do you know what he did to those poor people at the alienage? Can you imagine all the torment that Justin went through?"
Ernie's voice was the first that Ginny recognized in the din. His pain was poignant – so thick she could taste it.
Justin...oh, Justin how long has it been since I've thought of you?
It was true, in a way, what Ernie was saying. Ginny could still recall those days, locked in that horrid place, the way they had leered at her, the way Pansy Parkinson had treated her children-
"My sister is dead because of them!"
The passionate exclamation of the only remaining Patil sister caused Ginny's heart to sink. She couldn't deny Padma's right to shock and bitterness. After all, Ginny had dealt with betrayal, sadness, disbelief, anger and a plethora of other emotions herself…at the beginning.
When had she made peace with the reality?
I don't know.
Still, something prevented Ginny from rushing to Hermione's defense. Perhaps in spite of it all, resentment never truly went away, lingering always, mixed with love and compassion and forgiveness.
Dean turned to glance at the group scattered behind him in the half-finished room.
"Crikey, we can't bloody stand around! Either way, we've got to do something! We can't let Hermione's betrayal get the best of us! We can't help that she's helping Malfoy."
Everyone was silent and the room was silent yet heavy with reprimand aimed at the small remnant of those that bore the Mark and especially Draco Malfoy.
Ginny hung her head, rocking back and forth. The image of Draco's face in the old, abandoned house filled her mind. He had looked so lost.
"He's not like they are!"
Ginny's own words surprised her even as they pierced the silence. Heads turned in her direction.
"So you'll tell us next that he's a good man?" Angelina questioned not hiding her chastisement. "You, after everything you've been through? You, the woman who knows better than anyone here what it was like in those bloody alienages? And you would forgive him those sins?"
Ginny swallowed.
"I won't ever forget the horrors," she replied solemnly. "But neither can I accuse him of being as horrid as the others. He wasn't."
Ginny wasn't aware of the words around her for the voices had run together like a murmuring river of sound. She felt attacked; she felt as if she was being condemned.
"Even if he wasn't how can you defend Hermione's actions? This whole time she's been lying to us and to a man who did nothing but love her!"
Luna's words stung more than they should have and Ginny grew defensive.
"You weren't there, Luna! That alienage was hell on earth but I know that Hermione and Draco sacrificed the biggest part of themselves to save my daughter and no matter how much resentment there is to harbor I won't forget what they did for me! Yes, she made a mistake and yes, she did something deceitful! But you'd all rather trust Blaise Zabini?"
Luna paled as she glared back at Ginny, her chest rising and falling with her erratic breaths. Ginny swallowed back a cacophony of bitter words and paused before speaking.
"Who can blame two people who found solace in a dark world? Look at yourselves! Would you blame anyone else?"
No one replied and the long silence was broken by an uncertain voice.
"So what would you have us do?"
The voice belonged to Cho but it was soon lost in the murmur of the others and swathed in the afternoon shadows. Ginny searched their tense faces.
"Stand against Blaise; I can't prove what happened to Neville has anything to do with him but I know he's involved. I just know."
"Must we take sides again so soon after the war? Well, I'll tell you one thing, I won't do it!"
There was a smattering of agreement.
"Zabini's on our side, isn't he? He helped us win that bleeding war! Do you expect us to take a stand against him? We don't even have proof that he had something to do with Longbottom's disappearance!"
The uprising amongst them began to swell but Ginny stood her ground.
"He's only on your side so long as it serves his purposes! Has he not proven that by switching sides during the war? His only master was himself that whole time! Don't let him fool you."
Padma winced.
"Blaise tried to save my sister! I saw it happen that day and I dream about it still! He's a good man and you've always tried to paint him as horrid, haven't you?"
The others glanced at the dark-haired beauty before turning back to face Dean and Ginny.
The red-haired woman felt a bubbling up of frustration and despair as she looked through the group of agitated, tense faces, many of them her long-time friends and companions. These faces were filled with the familiarity of the past – faces she had known and loved, memories she had cherished and wished she could forget. She had fought a war with those around her and nothing had changed. So long as the world existed there would always be opposition.
Before she could speak up in Neville's defense, Dean had stopped his pacing and turned to his companions.
"There aren't many of us right now. I don't know what's happened to Neville or where this madness started. But I know one thing. We can't stand against each other! A house divided will fall."
His dark eyes scanned the crowd.
"We either come together to find Neville or we don't."
Ernie stood.
"Give me proof that Zabini's against us and I'll join you, mate."
Dean remained silent and Angelina's voice rose up from the throng.
"Prove to us that Zabini is what Ginny says he is! Why should we stand with Hermione when she's betrayed us and put us in a position that we're protecting the same men and women who nearly succeeded in wiping out all the Muggle-borns and halfbloods?"
Seamus was gnawing on his lip and finally gave Dean a hard look.
"D'you trust him, mate?"
Dean was silent for a moment as Seamus continued.
"Sure, if you said you wanted us to back him up, I would. I trust you."
There was a murmuring around them even if it was weak and uncertain. Dean took a breath and then faced his comrades.
"We should find Neville. He's the one I trust."
Hermione dashed through the empty hallways and bare, lonely rooms of the soon-to-be orphanage. The words of her former friends and loved ones rang cruelly in her ears.
They didn't trust her; they didn't want her. They were reluctant to help Neville and it was all her fault! Though the realization was heartbreaking Hermione was driven by only one thought: she would lose her son if she didn't hurry. She would have to think of everything else later.
Pushing aside the pain of her friends and family, she plowed onward.
I won't lose Leo.
She knew that perhaps she had lost everything else. She was no longer trusted. She was no longer wanted. She had betrayed them; she was a Death Eater's whore. And in the future, Hermione knew she would have to live with the consequences of her actions. Years ago she had been given no choice and in spite of that cruelty and prejudice still existed – on both sides.
I won't lose Leo.
She refocused her pained thoughts on one thing – getting help.
It had been Blaise all along and they were so quick to trust him! Hermione knew it wasn't fair but now it was too late to worry about the others; they would believe what they wanted and she couldn't change their minds.
I'll have to find someone else to help me – and I know who!
The rooms were all alike, one after another. Pale, beige walls with clean, large windows framed beautifully shining hardwood floors. Soon these rooms would be filled with beds and dressers, the sounds of children laughing and talking and the smells coming up from the kitchen where elves would prepare meals.
The world would be a different one for the children of the future but for those that had survived the war-
I won't think of it! I won't think of them; I'm going to find my son and my husband and…and Draco.
It was a complicated mess she was in but Hermione had no choice now but to face her past and reconcile it with her future. If that meant facing both Neville and Draco, well, she would do it. She would have to.
She ran around another empty corner and down a corridor before she saw them. They were together as had become habit, their faces drawn and thin. Some of them she didn't recognize; she hadn't ever recognized them. Others she vaguely recalled from other times and other painful places.
They remind me of myself!
But it was only one that she was interested in – the one woman who might be able to help her. Hermione broke into a sprint as she neared the group, her eyes searching for only one person. As if she had read her mind, Pansy Parkinson stepped forward her face quizzical.
"Hermione, are you all right?"
A few more breaths and Hermione was able to utter words.
"I-I need your help. Draco, Neville and my son need your help."
She faltered; her voice broke.
"I don't know who else to turn to and who to trust."
Pansy was silent but Hermione could see the sudden flicker or some unknown emotion in her violet eyes. She took Hermione by the elbow gently.
"What's happened?"
Hermione sensed a tension in the other woman's voice that hadn't been there a second earlier. "Will it affect all of us?"
"Neville…Neville removed Blaise from his Ministry post. I'm afraid that something horrible is going to happen if we don't try and stop him."
Pansy paused but Hermione could sense the tiniest flicker of sympathy.
"There are consequences to every choice."
Her voice was strangely weak.
"But Neville made the right one."
Hermione's heart hammered wildly in the silence of the room before she dared to speak once more.
"So you'll help me?"
Pansy's lips were pressed in a thin line but her eyes were steady.
"Protect me and I will."