They had landed on top of another hill, apparently the boundary of the wards, and she could see the twisting path that led up to the old fashioned manor. From what she could see, it wasn't as ornate as Hollis remembered the Malfoy place being, but it was still elegant and classic, a place most people would love to live in. What grounds she could see in the light of the half-moon were gorgeous and, thinking back, it was no surprise that Neville had developed a love of nature here.

"Come on. Frank will be getting antsy," Alice said kindly. Hollis nodded and they set off down the path. After several feet, she felt a shiver as Alice let her through the wards.

Tall trees lined the path and cast shadows all around them, making Hollis edgy. She hadn't spent much time above ground, in open space, at night in quite some time. Unfortunately, they would never let her go on reconnaissance missions; it was the one thing her men ever threatened to mutiny over.

Frank, whom she had spotted briefly at the meeting, had cleared the path of snow and ice, so at least she didn't have to worry about that.

"So..." Alice said after a couple of dozen yards of silence. "The future?"

"Yep."

"Did - did you know my son, Neville? I think he would have been about your age, maybe a few years younger."

Hollis smiled faintly. "He was in my year, both of us Gryffindors. One of the best people I knew."

"Knew? Oh..." Alice said, sounding like her fears had been confirmed.

"I'm the last of my year, the last of any year within three of mine."

There was another long moment of silence and then, "What was he like?"

"He was the best guy friend any girl could have," Hollis reminisced sadly, thinking of her bear of a friend. He had been tall and well-built but as gentle as a butterfly, never harming a single thing unless it was in a fight, and even then, he tried to make it as swift and painless as possible. The day he had died, several Death Eaters had cornered him but couldn't quite get him. His end had been throwing himself between a five-year-old hostage and a curse. "You know, the one whose shoulder you could cry on and who you trusted to never to tell anyone else why. He would never ever take advantage of anyone who was vulnerable. He was as kind as could be, quiet, and startlingly perceptive. A brilliant fighter once he got a little confidence in himself."

Hollis wished he was there with her now. He'd let her sob herself dry, comforting and standing guard all at the same time. He wouldn't judge her for her love for Severus; he'd see past the snark and dry humor, he'd see all the good in Severus – he had seen the good in him once he got over his fear of the man. And he wouldn't give her any ridiculous platitudes about her loss.

"We raised him right," Alice murmured, more to herself than Hollis. Hollis didn't have the heart to let her know otherwise. "I'm glad."

Hollis looked down at herself. She should probably at least make an attempt at looking decent. She started murmuring spells, mending her knee-length coat and her leather pants. She'd mend the tights underneath later and she could only heal her various wounds in better lighting. Hollis spelled away the dirt and blood and cast a freshening charm so she didn't reek quite so badly.

They closed in on the house and Hollis got a better look at it. It was three stories of grey stone, rather Gothic with spires and turrets, and large glass windows that she thought might be stained glass. It was a little difficult to tell in the low lighting.

They went up the massive stone steps and Alice tugged the heavy oak door open. Frank had a baby propped on his hip and was pacing in the large foyer, murmuring to the child. He looked up with such an expression of concern, Hollis was sharply reminded of Neville. He truly had been an even mixture between his parents, though he had clearly taken after his father as far as size and build were concerned.

"Everything alright?" he asked them both, though his warm brown eyes gravitated more toward Alice than herself.

Alice nodded and held out her arms. Neville leaned towards her, smiling and babbling incoherently as he held out his arms. "Hello precious," she greeted, her voice light and loving. Neville patted her face and Alice turned towards Hollis. "Neville, this is one of your future year mates, Grey - though I think she might be lying about that." She said it with a friendly smile and knowing look, so Hollis only smiled slightly.

"Hullo, Nev. Nice to see you again," she told the baby, who blinked his serious brown eyes at her. Hollis gently stroked his soft cheek with the back of one finger. Then he surprised her by reaching out towards her. Hollis looked between Frank and Alice. Frank looked surprised but didn't interfere, and Alice was smiling.

"Go ahead," Alice encouraged. "You can hold him."

Carefully, she took the tiny boy that would grow into a massive, brave man. Hollis couldn't recall the last baby she held, but thankfully, Neville was old enough to hold his own head up and she just had to keep him from falling. Just like he had with Alice, he patted her face with one chubby hand and laid his head on her shoulder, completely at ease with her.

"You're a good boy," she murmured in Russian, brushing some hair away from his forehead. Neville looked up at her, bemused in his sweet little innocent way. "You're not going to lose your parents this time and you're not going to die so young. You're going to have a bright future and a lovely family, who are all going to adore you and see you for brilliant, beautiful person you are."

Neville babbled something in reply, his little fist waving in the air and she laughed a little, her throat thick. He reminded her sharply of what their future had become - they had been such innocent little beings, and because of one man's fear of death and his hate, their lives had been consumed in war - and of what had been lost.

Frank watched Grey carefully. Alice had clearly decided to trust her and Frank didn't doubt her judgment, but he couldn't help his concern. She had arrived so suddenly, her back pressed against a coffin, and had been covered in so much blood and dirt. Her face held a wolfish like wariness throughout the whole meeting, her body clearly tensed and ready for sudden movement – which had proven useful when dealing with Pettigrew.

Frank still couldn't believe that little Peter had been a traitor. Dumbledore had Moody take him in and the meeting had quickly broken up after that. James had been devastated and Lily had taken him home while Remus had taken a furious Sirius somewhere.

He hadn't wanted Alice to go with Grey but had allowed that someone should keep an eye on her, help her if need be, and she did need a place to stay. As far as Frank knew, one did not walk into a battle like what she had described with a satchel of gold or anything of that nature. She'd be broke, homeless, displaced, and – based on her age, maybe five or so years older than him – probably not very familiar with what was going on specifically. She'd need help and they had plenty of space and money to give.

He quickly noticed that, in the time he had been waiting for Alice and his new house guest, something had changed in Grey. She was less...authoritative and dangerous and now just looked like a gaunt, twenty-something year old with aged violet eyes and premature worry lines in her forehead, and lines around her mouth that suggested she spent a lot of time frowning. That, and she was cleaner.

She was a little awkward with Neville, murmuring something to him in what sounded like Russian, but she seemed very fond of him. Alice had introduced her as a future classmate of his, so she probably was.

Wait. Frank quickly redid math in his head and realized he'd definitely pinned her for being older than a meager twenty-one. Good Merlin.

Neville, typically, babbled something in reply and her face tensed. When she laughed, she sounded like she was going to cry.

"Here," Alice said, holding out her arms and taking Neville. "Let's get you a bath, some clothes, and a bed, alright? Unless you want to eat first?"

Grey shook her head. "I don't eat during the first twelve hours after a fight. It never stays down," she said quietly, shifting her weight, her violet eyes flicking around again. He had seen the same gaze on several of the older Aurors and those who had lived through Grindelwald's war. Watching her assess his house, taking in exit points, weapons, and defensive areas, was quite bizarre.

"Alright. Well, Frank, will you show her to the blue room while I put down Neville and gather some old clothes for her? I know I have some stuff from before my pregnancy that should be close to fitting you," Alice said, giving her frame a quick once over.

Grey wore a tight coat that he could tell was made of dragonhide, like her pants. It was practically skin-tight, hugging her extremely thin torso and arms, flaring at the hips and coming down to her knees. Frank was positive no one should be that thin and that Alice certainly never had been, but she was a slender woman, so it would be kind of close and they could shrink it down for Grey.

"Alright," he said, starting to turn and waving for her to follow him.

"Thanks," Grey suddenly blurted. He glanced back and was surprised to see a light blush on her very pale face. There were dark rings under her eyes and Frank, once again, wondered how Neville had reached out to her so easily. He was so shy of everyone and, by all rights, Grey should have frightened him. "Um, for letting me stay here tonight and for coming with me to..." She trailed off, looking at Alice, her shoulders tensed.

Alice's face clouded and she nodded. "Can – may I tell Frank?"

Grey chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes flicking to Frank, who stood still, wondering what it was she had asked Alice not to tell him. Grey's eyes studied him intently and she gave a small nod.

"Thanks," Alice said. "And you can stay as long as you need or want. Now go on, you two. I'll be there in a minute."

Frank turned away again, glad to know he wouldn't be up wondering about the mystery of whatever it was Grey was secretive about, and led the way up one of the main staircases.

The foyer had checkered black and white marble floors, portraits of his ancestors hanging on the walls, and two curved staircases that hugged the walls and met up in the middle. To the right and left were drawing rooms and straight ahead, underneath where the staircases met, were two large double doors that led straight into a ballroom.

Frank took the left staircase, turning left into the hall and heading for the blue guest room on the west end of the house. It had a beautiful view of the large pond in the back yard and gardens that had been cultivated by Longbottoms for generations.

Once, he glanced behind to be check that Grey was following him, and was startled to see her only a few feet behind him. She walked so silently he hadn't been sure if she was even there.

"Field Marshal is pretty high ranking, isn't it?" he asked. He wasn't familiar with Muggle military ranking, but it sounded good.

"The highest," she answered softly. "I'm the – I was the head of the Light Army of England."

He looked back again, surprised. But her face was perfectly serious and she seemed to be standing straighter in remembrance of her former position. It was the same thing she had done when speaking with Dumbledore and Moody. "Really?" he asked. "I mean..."

"Shouldn't it be someone older?" she filled in wryly, raising her brows a little. He nodded sheepishly. She shrugged. "It's a complicated story...Let's just say that I was a Someone before the war got its momentum and when several prominent leaders fell, I was who they turned too. I didn't know much about battles and the like, but I learned on the job. Had a lot of Aurors on hand by then and they helped considerably. By the time they were gone, I was pretty good at it and the States – that's what we called the American forces in our base – were there, and Texas and Maine became my generals and they were strategic genii."

"Texas and Maine?" he questioned. He knew they were states, but he hadn't known people actually named their kids after them.

"They never fully disclosed their names because if Voldemort had gotten a foothold in America, their families would have been at risk. It's what he did to the Aurors who opposed him – tracked down their entire family and slaughtered them – so they just went by their ranks and the states they hailed from instead," she said.

"Oh," he said, turning back to face down the hall and continuing. They were only a yard or so from the door. He wondered what that felt like, falling from a position like that in a weird twist of magic. To everyone she would now meet, she would be little more than a pedestrian, not a war leader to be looked up and listened to.

"You know," she said, sounding like she was thinking out loud. "I'm a little relieved that I'm not Field Marshal anymore. It's stressing, you know, being in charge of everything. It's not just conducting battles – it's making sure your base doesn't freak out and mutiny, that the other bases don't sell out, that the supply lines can still find a way to get through. It's keeping every single Light person alive and fighting to the best of your abilities, particularly since there is – was – so few of them left..."

Frank hadn't been sure of what exactly it was that she did, but it sounded incredibly taxing; no wonder she looked so worn. He didn't think he could have done it, especially being thrust into it at a young age and being so inexperienced. She must have been one hell of a somebody if they turned to someone like her in a war against Voldemort.

They arrived at the white door with a gold handle and he opened the door, going in and glancing over everything. It was as neat as ever and smelled fresh. The carpet was a thick dark blue and plush, the kind that a person's feet could sink into. The queen sized four poster bed had a dark cherry frame, and there were matching nightstands, dresser, and wardrobe positioned strategically around the room. The blanket was midnight blue with silver embroidery and the sheets a light shade of silvery blue, and the pillowcases a slightly darker shade. A matching upholstered bench sat at the end of the bed, a large fireplace directly across from that. The bay window on the far wall had pale blue lacy curtains that were pulled back, showing its beautiful view.

The house-elves obviously knew they were coming because the covers were turned back on the bed and the fire was lit. The en suite bathroom door was open as well and the light was on. He could just see the large mirror and it looked fogged, indicating they had drawn her a hot bath as well.

"Well," he said. "I can't say I know what that's like, I'm just one of the lowest Aurors, but I don't envy you your former position. And here we are. Your room until further notice."

Her eyes, of course, flickered around in that way of hers.

"Thank you," she repeated sincerely.

He gave a nod, silently resolving to ward her door at least. He knew an old family spell meant to keep an eye on heirs in their younger years. It would alert him to different things – nightmares, which he'd be surprised if she didn't have, but it let him know how terrible it was on a scale of one to thirty-five; if they left the room and the general direction they had gone; if they got sick, and all kinds of other things of that nature, and it was a very subtle charm. He figured it could come in surprisingly handy for an unknown houseguest of somewhat dubious origins.

He trusted her oath – she would not be helping Voldemort – but there was a difference between not helping him and not hurting them. Alice seemed to really like her, but Frank would take no chances.

"Do you like it?" Alice asked, appearing some moments later. She was holding a small pile of clothing.

"It's beautiful," Grey said. Frank once again noticed how different she was compared to the figure at the meeting. Alice smiled, pleased, and Frank found a moment in all his worries to appreciate his wife's warm smile. It was the first thing he had noticed about her all those years ago.

"I'll let you ladies be," Frank said. "If you need anything, Grey, call for Minny. She's one of our house-elves." Grey nodded. He turned and left, tugging the door shut behind him a little and wandlessly placing the charm on it.

Alice let her eyes trail her husband's fit figure as he left. She hoped Neville would have his strong build over her slight one.

"He seems nice," Grey ventured.

"He is - rather like what you described Neville to be earlier," Alice said, bringing her gaze back to their unexpected visitor. "What did you say to him? Neville, I mean, earlier..."

"That he was going to have a better future than what he did," she said simply.

Alice knew that was the clearest answer she was going to get. She also knew it was more than that – there were too many words for it to be simply that – but she let it go and set the pajamas on the bed.

"Now," she said, starting to lay them out. "There are a few different sizes, so if you take off your coat, you can just tug the shirts on and we'll see what's best."

Grey complied and started unbuttoning her long coat. She wore a fitted black shirt with three quarter sleeves underneath. It had a scoop neck and, because her black curly hair was pulled up, Alice could see the tips of some sort of black tattoo across her shoulders. There was also a complicated shield knot just below the nape of her neck. There were a couple of more on her arms, one disappearing up her sleeve, one written in beautiful script in black ink on her left wrist, and another on her right wrist, which seemed to be a series of dates with letters and slashes beside them. They disappeared up her sleeve as well.

And then Alice saw the blood from where some of her wounds had soaked the shirt. The flickering light of the fireplace didn't give the best lighting, but she could see at least one place on her side that the dragon hide and shirt had clearly been cut through and that the wound was only half, hastily healed.

"I didn't know you were still wounded!" she exclaimed.

Grey shrugged. "I can heal them. How about I do that, take a bath, and try all this on when I get out? I'll return what doesn't fit in the morning."

"Do you need anything? Bandages? Potions?"

"Muscle relaxer, if you have it. Otherwise, I'm not going to be able to move in the morning."

"I'll have Minny bring you some when you finish your bath," Alice said decisively. Grey nodded her thanks and Alice took her leave. She went to the kitchen first, though she knew Frank would be up waiting for her in their room. She wanted something chocolate and she had to speak with Minny anyway. It only took a few minutes and then she was heading back up the stairs with a mug of hot chocolate. Instead of turning left, the same direction as Grey's room, she turned right, towards her own room and Neville's, which was just off the side of her and Frank's room.

Frank, as predicted, was sitting at the edge of their bed, waiting. He looked a bit surprised to see her so soon though. "That was quick. Don't girls normally take longer?"

She gave him a wry look. "Hilarious. And she only took off her coat. She's still wounded, Frank," Alice said, and then told him what she had seen. He looked troubled, but not surprised.

"And what did you ask if you could tell me about?" he asked after a few moments of silence. She was sitting on the bed next to him now and he held her hand.

"It was about who was in the coffin," Alice said slowly, thinking of all she had seen and suspected. "Before agreeing to let me come, she had me swear that I wouldn't tell anyone what I saw or heard without her permission. I agreed so long as it didn't harm innocents and it wasn't self-harming. She just wanted it kept really private, because all she did was Apparate us to this beautiful hill. It was Severus Snape in the coffin and she buried him underneath an oak tree that overlooked a river. She made a headstone for him," Alice said, then recited what she had inscribed on it. "I think they were really close because she was really upset. I mean..." She struggled to think of how to describe it.

Grey hadn't looked very upset, keeping a tight lock on her expressions, but just before she had figured out what to write on the headstone, she had had tears in her eyes and it had taken a couple of long minutes to get herself back under control. And then there was her whisper of 'So much for bravery'. The way it was said, the brief flash of regret on her face, had made it seem like, maybe, Grey had felt a little more than just friendship for Snape. It was an odd thought – Snape was her age and Grey the same age as her son – but she supposed that love could happen anywhere. The strangest bit was that it was Snape. For as long as she had known him, he had been mean, cold, snarky, and jaded. Not exactly someone girls fell head over heels for. But Grey probably knew something about him that they didn't.

"I think..." she restarted, Frank having waited patiently for her to speak, "I think she was in love with him. I've seen people when they lose friends – I've lost a couple myself, we all have – and I've seen people who've lost people they were in love with. I don't know Grey that well, but if I had to pick, I'd say it was the latter that I saw briefly on her face tonight. And I don't think she ever told him. She looked regretful and said 'so much for bravery' just after we buried him. She was a Gryffindor; she told me."

"Wow," Frank murmured, his gaze distant and thoughtful. They lapsed into silence, Alice sipping on her drink and watching the fire. "I put the same spell on her door that we use on Neville's," Frank suddenly said.

"What?"

"I used the same spell," he repeated. "I thought it would be useful for monitoring her. I know she's against Voldemort, but that doesn't exactly equal being on our side. I know, I know," Frank said quickly when she started to protest. "She seems like she's on our side and you like and trust her and I'm not doubting you. I'm just...being cautious."

Alice sighed and nodded. She understood where Frank was coming from – she really did – but she had such a good feeling about Grey that she kept forgetting that she could be a danger.