Three weeks later

Minerva McGonagall POV

They had all gathered in the Headmistress's office to exchange news. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Gawain Robards were sat beside the cabinet containing Dumbledore's magical instruments. Harry, Ron and Hermione were over by the window, sitting in a pool of rapidly fading sunlight. Remus was sat beside her, his hand resting gently on Minerva's arm, as if he was lending her some of his own strength. Severus Snape hovered over by the door, looking as though he didn't quite belong in the room.

There was no news. Minerva had known this before the meeting had even started. Their daily briefings were just a formality by this point. So, she had listened with waning energy as Kingsley had read out a summary of the Aurors' empty reports. Harry, Ron and Hermione had already given their equally meaningless statement, telling the group what they already knew; that they had looked everywhere they could think of and they had not found Tansy Laverstock and her baby. They had reached a stalemate.

'So, this is a dead end. We don't know where she is.' Minerva McGonagall tried to keep her voice steady but it was impossible; she felt so defeated and so exhausted. Her arms ached for her adopted daughter. It had felt unbearable when Tansy had been held captive by Voldemort but this, somehow, felt worse because they had no idea where she was, or if she was even alive. She heard the other occupants of the room sighing with defeat. Secretly, they had all known it would come to this but no one had ever voiced the thought out loud; there had never been a concrete lead. The Auror department, under Kingsley and Gawain had been leading the official search but Harry, Ron and Hermione had been systematically visiting all of the locations they had been to the previous year in case the young witch had retreated there. There had been appeals on both the wizarding and the muggle news.

They had known from the start that it was a pointless exercise.

'I'm afraid so.' Kingsley sighed and reached into his briefcase for a sheath of parchment. He riffled through it until he found the document that he'd been looking for and then he handed it across the desk. She'd known what it would say; she'd asked him for the copy in their meeting the previous day, but it still came as a shock. She felt herself paling as she read the opening words.

Trial no 557

Defendant Tansy Alya Laverstock (alias Cassiopeia Alya Black)

Case The murder of George Fabien Weasley

'It's just a formality, Minerva.' Gawain Robards reassured her quickly. 'There's enough evidence to acquit her on the basis of self-defence. It's also very clear that she was manipulated, I mean…'

'If it's 'just a formality',' Remus snarled, interrupting the other man and standing up suddenly and pointing a shaking finger at the parchment, 'then why does she have to go on trial at all? I mean we currently have no idea where she even is…'

'The evidence suggests that she acted of her own free will.' Gawain held up his hands in a peaceable gesture. 'But there is also a heavy…'

'She had just been raped, for Merlin's sake! She'd undergone weeks of torture and abuse! It's a miracle she had any sanity left.'

'I think we're all fully aware of that, Remus,' Gawain said softly. 'It's a very very complex series of events. We believe that George Weasley was under the influence of the Imperius Curse and it's clear that Bellatrix Lestrange…'

Minerva glanced across the room towards the only Weasley present; Ron was pale and Hermione was holding onto his arm like a vice. Nevertheless, he met her gaze steadily and she felt a sudden wave of admiration for his strength; he had attended every single one of their meetings. The scene they had witnessed on Bellatrix's video tape had been devastating for all of them but it had hit the Weasleys' the hardest.

'That's enough!' Although her voice was quiet, the two bickering wizards fell silent. 'We are all aware of how complex and horrible this is.' She shuddered, suddenly feeling exhausted – Merlin only knew when she had last had a good night's sleep. 'We are here…' Her voice trailed off – every day for the past two and a half weeks she had begged them to continue the search; to look for more clues as to where Tansy might be. Now, she knew they'd hit a dead end; the simple truth of the matter was that they did not know where the young witch and her baby might be hiding. Merlin, they didn't even know if she was still alive.

'We are here because Miss Laverstock is alone and vulnerable and she needs to be found.' Severus Snape finished for her, speaking for the first time that evening. Minerva nodded weakly, trying to appear hopeful. Deep down, she knew that she no longer believed that it was possible; they could continue searching but there was no denying the fact that the young witch and her baby had disappeared.

The meeting dragged on for another half an hour before petering out. The two Ministry officials left and were quickly followed by Harry, who had been working with them on a new defence project. Hermione and Ron followed more slowly.

'Ron, can I speak to you a moment?' He looked shocked, as students always did when she used their first names. She glanced over her shoulder – Severus and Remus were still hovering over by the door, talking in low voices.

'I'll wait for you outside,' Hermione began but Minerva stopped her.

'No, it's fine,' she turned back to Ron, 'I just wanted to ask you how things were at home?' The young man's face visibly paled. He shrugged and a pained expression flickered onto his face.

'Mrs Weasley isn't coping well,' Hermione said quickly, glancing swiftly at Ron, who nodded and swallowed painfully.

'My brothers are getting there, and Dad…' His voice sounded strained. 'Well, except…' He didn't need to finish – Minerva knew which brother he was talking about.

'It's an incredibly, incredibly difficult thing for your whole family to come to terms with.' Minerva said, trying to put aside her own rising emotions. 'I'm afraid there is no easy way to fix this. Did you give them the pamphlet about grief counselling?' Ron nodded.

'Mum has an appointment booked for the day after tomorrow but she keeps crying and saying that she doesn't want to go. I think Ginny has persuaded her though.' Minerva sighed; after both Severus and Remus had put pressure on her, she'd attended her own appointment with the grief counselor two days previously. She looked at the young wizard standing in front of her and saw that the tips of his ears had reddened slightly. 'I had an appointment this morning.'

'Do you think that it helped?' Ron twisted his lip and shrugged.

'I don't know, Professor.'

'I can assure you that she's very good.' Minerva sighed and glanced down at the foldable photo frame on the desk in front of her; the first half held a photo of Tansy sleeping peacefully with baby Hope wrapped in a pink blanket in her arms, and the second half held a close-up of the baby. They'd been taken only a few days before they both vanished.

'I would try to preserve with it if I were you.' Minerva looked up at him again and saw that he was staring at the photo frame, his posture stiff. She took a deep breath. 'I also wanted to thank you, Ron. It can't be easy attending these meetings. It's obviously distressing for all of us but I can't imagine what it must feel like for you and your family.' Ron looked up, meeting her eyes and holding them.

'It's hard for you too, Professor. I know how much you love her…' He paused, clearly trying to find the right words. 'She's my friend… I know it was an accident, Professor. She didn't mean to… to k-kill George. It's like Remus said; she'd been tortured and… and hurt… he was… Bellatrix was forcing him to assault her…' His eyes dropped to the photo again and he suddenly gasped.

'Ron?' Both Hermione and Minerva spoke at once. The young wizard seemed to wilt slightly and Minerva quickly conjured a chair in time for him to fall into it. His hand reached for the photo frame but his coordination was off and he knocked it to the floor.

'Ron, are you okay?' Remus asked, stepping forward in concern.

Ron shook his head, his face the colour of wet paper. He gestured to the photo frame. Hermione picked it up and tapped her wand on the glass and the spiderweb of cracks vanished instantly. She stared down at the pictures for a second before handing the frame back to Minerva who also glanced down at the photo of Tansy, feeling the usual wrenching in her heart. She saw nothing concerning there.

'What's the matter Weasley?' Severus snapped, fiddling with is wand, as if wondering what spell to use. Ron shook his head, seemingly too distressed for words.

'Ron?' Hermione dropped to her knees in front of him and caught him as he fell forwards onto her shoulder, tears streaming down his cheeks. The gathered adults strained to hear his muffled words.

'She's his!' It took Minerva less than two seconds to understand and then the meaning hit her like a shower of ice-cold water. She stared at him in shock for a few seconds before her eyes dropped to the photo frame again, this time searching out the photo of baby Hope; the baby's blue eyes stared out of the frame and her mouth opened and closed like a baby bird's looking for food. As Minerva watched, she reached up a tiny, dis-coordinated hand and dislodged her hat showing a tiny wisp of auburn hair.

'Who?' Hermione looked over her shoulder at Minerva. 'Who?'

'Baby Hope,' Ron looked up, glaring around as if daring someone to contradict him. 'Baby Hope. We thought she was Malfoy's … but she's his. George is her father.'

There was a collective gasp from Remus, Severus and Hermione as they suddenly understood too.

Three months later (mid-December)

Hermione POV

Harry, Hermione and Ron were sat beside the fireplace in the eighth-year common room. Hermione was trying to study but the boys were playing a spirited game of wizard's chess and she was finding them very distracting; every time a piece was taken, she would lose her place on the page.

'See you next term!' Hermione jerked upwards, losing her place for what felt like the hundredth time; Neville was standing in front of them, carrying a large wooden crate filled with small pots, each containing a small amount of potting compost and a tiny squirming, bulbous-looking plant.

'You finally managed to take cuttings then?' She asked, setting the book to one side and standing up so that she could see the contents of the crate more easily. As she looked down, one of the cuttings sneezed and shot out a tiny squirt of green slime. The faint smell of petrol made her wrinkle her nose and draw back. Neville nodded happily, flushing slightly with pleasure.

'Cuttings?' Ron asked, standing up to. His hand touched Hermione's back as he came over to stand beside her and she felt heat radiating out from the place. The casual way he touched her felt nice.

'Yep, presenting the first Mimbulus Mimbletonia babies grown in this country for over a hundred years!' Neville said proudly. 'I'm taking them home with me for Christmas in case Professor Sprout is too busy to sing to them. They need singing to for at least an hour a day.'

'Are you saying that you don't trust her to look after them properly?' Harry asked teasingly.

'Well, no, but I think they like me best.' Neville looked lovingly down into the crate and crooned a nursery rhyme and one of the tiny plants suddenly shot a stream of foul-smelling liquid into his eye. Harry and Ron roared with laughter and Hermione found herself stifling a smile.

'They definitely like you best!' Ron sniggered, gingerly taking the crate so that Neville could wipe his eye.

'Well, have a lovely break, anyway,' Neville said, grinning good-naturedly. 'When do you leave for Melbourne?' The trio exchanged awkward glances.

'We're actually going to be spending Christmas here,' Hermione said quickly, suddenly feeling herself flushing a little. Confusion flickered across Neville's face.

'Why? Oh,' he looked suddenly hopeful, 'is there any news about Tansy?'

'I'm afraid not,' Hermione felt her heart wrenching a little as it always did when someone dropped her best friend's name into the conversation. Neville visibly deflated.

'Oh, I just hoped… it's been so long.'

'I know, Neville,' Hermione felt her eyes starting to prick with tears. There was a long silence.

'We thought it would be nice to spend Christmas at Hogwarts!' Harry said loudly, his voice overly bright and fake. His explanation fell flat and Neville stared awkwardly between the three of them. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw that the tips of Ron's ears had gone bright red. She could tell he was starting to get upset; it didn't take much to tip him over the edge at the moment.

'Well, I'll see you next term,' Neville said quickly, breaking the awkward silence. 'Have a…'

'Things have been… difficult at home since Tansy…' Hermione could hear the forced steadiness in Ron's voice as he interrupted Neville's words. Neville nodded understandingly. 'It's just taking time and Fred…'

'Is he still drinking?' Neville asked quietly. Ron gulped and turned away.

'He's in St Mungo's, Neville,' Hermione said softly. 'It's not common knowledge but he… well, we aren't sure what happened or if it was deliberate but he's currently on the mind ward. He overdosed last week.'

Tansy's POV

Tansy jerked awake, convinced that she'd slept through her daughter's cries. She reached out, flicking the light switch and blinked into the sudden blinding light that illuminated the small room. Almost choking with panic, she glanced down at the baby beside her on the narrow bed. Hope's tiny face was peaceful; her eyelids fluttering gently as she dreamed. Tansy felt herself relaxing slightly but her heartbeat continued to thud painfully in her chest. She bit down on her lip, the pain helping her to focus slightly and concentrated on breathing slowly in and out. Then, chastising herself for waking herself up, she slipped out of bed, shivering as her feet hit the icy linoleum and stood up. She glanced over at the illuminated numbers of the muggle alarm clock on the chest of drawers and saw that it was ten past two in the morning. She'd had less than an hour of sleep. Tansy knew that the combination of intense nightmares and her anxiety about sleeping through her baby's cries was slowly crippling her.

Tansy crossed over to the small kitchenette and picked up the tiny cardboard box she'd left on the counter beside the muggle bottle sterilizer. She popped two of the tiny oval tablets out of their foil sleaves and dry swallowed them. She counted the remaining tablets and felt her heart skipping again as she realised how many were left – she was running very low but she cringed at the idea of returning to the GP for a repeat prescription; remembering her struggle to communicate during her last appointment still made her wince with shame.

The tiny basement flat was icy cold. Tansy put her hand on the small radiator and realised with a jolt that the heating had turned itself off. With a sinking feeling, she realised that that the boiler must've gone out again. It would probably take her half an hour of grubbing around in the dark cupboard by the front door to get it lit again and she could already feel the sedative that she'd just taken starting to take effect.

You could just use your wand.

Tansy flinched at the thought and glanced over to where her ebony wand lay on the draining board next to a pile of clean baby bottles. The combination of sleeplessness and the muggle medication had weakened her magic so much in the past three months that she only used it when there was no other option. She gritted her teeth and looked over at her daughter; the temperature had dropped to well below freezing outside and the flat was only going to get colder. Before she could change her mind, she scooped it up and crossed over to the front door. Force of habit made her check that the door was locked and bolted.

Tansy opened the cupboard door carefully, trying to avoid the inevitable loud squeaking of rusty hinges. She stooped and reached out towards the ancient boiler, crouched in the back of the cupboard, then immediately withdrew her hand; there were at least fifteen different knobs and dials on the front of it and she couldn't remember which one she needed. Her head was starting to feel woozy from the muggle pills, a sure sign that she was on the verge of unconsciousness. Instead, she slid the ebony wand to the tips of her fingers and sucked in a deep breath to quell the panic that always reared its head when she had to perform magic. Then she tapped the wand smartly on the top of the boiler, thinking the spell that would fix the majority of muggle white goods.

There was a loud bang and then a hiss and a gurgle as the boiler clattered into noisy life. Tansy jumped backwards and straightened up, hitting her head on the top of the cupboard. Her wand fell to the floor as she grasped at her throbbing head. Resisting the urge to sink down and sob on the cold linoleum, Tansy stumbled back over to the bed and slid in beside her daughter. She could hear the rush and click of the ancient heating system gearing up as the boiler did its job. She pulled the blankets up to her chin and shuddered violently, suddenly freezing. Without meaning to, she let her eyes flutter shut. The bedside light glowed red through the thin skin of her eyelids.

The pills always took her like this. She would hover somewhere on the verge of unconsciousness for what felt like an eternity. At some point the medication would win and drag her into the darkness. Then the nightmares would begin.

I'm back! Please let me know what you think. Sorry for the long wait again. We're in lockdown again and although this means I have loads of time for writing I really struggle to stay motivated and my mental health always takes a turn for the worst. Looking up again now spring and (hopefully) freedom are on the horizon. Stay safe!