Chapter Twenty-Six

May 7, 2007

Kingsley Shacklebolt Named Interim Minister For Magic By Unanimous Wizengamot Vote

Highly respected former auror Kingsley Shacklebolt has been appointed to be the Caretaker Minister for Magic until the Ministry of Magic is reformed. A public vote will be held at a date in the future that has yet to be determined for the official position. There are still many departments in the Ministry that need to be cleared of the massive corruption and shady dealings that have plagued the once proud institution for the past tumultuous decade. Recently released from the appalling conditions of the Ministry Breeding Program sponsored by former Minister for Magic Dolores Umbridge, Mr. Shacklebolt is anxious to be a part of correcting the many mistakes that have been made.

Only moments after his swearing in, Caretaker Minister Shacklebolt called for the immediate commutation of all sentences of all participants in Umbridge's foul scheme regardless of their previous affiliations. There were a number of critics in the Wizengamot who disagreed.

"The War has been over for nine years. Voldemort is dead. These men and women have paid for their crimes in unimaginable ways thanks to the actions of this Ministry. Nothing less than their freedom should be offered with the Ministry's sincere apologies," stated Mr. Shacklebolt in his first formal address to the esteemed members of the Wizengamot.

After revealing at length the details of the horrific crimes committed against the prisoners in the Ministry's care, the Wizengamot felt obligated to allow the former Death Eaters forced into the breeding program to go free. There are concerns that…

Hermione knew he was dead before his body hit the floor. How? Even years later when she stopped to think about the events of that terrible day, she couldn't be sure. Instinct perhaps. Or maybe it was the unnatural way his limbs crumpled beneath him as he fell with the kitchen knife still stuck inside his chest. It could've been watching the light dim from his dark brown eyes. The crumbling of the wards around the property that he put up when they arrived was the most definitive proof that he was dead. Most enchantments don't linger beyond the caster's death. In the end, it didn't really matter. He was dead and there was nothing to be done about it.

The opening of the hidden room, a priest's hole she believed they used to call them, was just as surprising to her when it swung open. Distracted from the screaming and whimpering of the horrible woman on the floor, Hermione gasped when she saw her little Henry climb out. The first feeling she had when she saw her son was anger. It was evident that the poor little dear had been crying for a long time. How long? Why? She didn't want to believe that the bitch tortured a small child for her own pleasure, but how could she not? What other reason was there for her to have demanded that she be the one to adopt their son? Her hatred of Hermione was well-known and if the photograph Antonin ripped out of her hands to fling at their captive was any indication, she had her own very valid reasons for hating him too.

She felt immense guilt that she had been looking away when Umbridge used nothing but sheer will and determination to stand on her damaged leg with her body still convulsing with post-Cruciatus trembles. The combined grunt of effort from her as she plunged the knife into Antonin's back and his gasp of pain and surprise was enough to get her to take her eyes off of the terrified child. If she'd been able to see Umbridge grab one of the knives that had fallen with the toppling of the table, she could've stopped her from murdering him. Or at the very least given him enough warning to step away. It wasn't fair how it all ended. They were so close to freedom, to finally being able to live their lives how they wanted.

Umbridge collapsed to the floor next to her victim. Her remaining strength had finally given out and standing another second on her shattered leg was impossible without strong motivation. The heavy breathing coming from the bitch was just as disconcerting to Hermione's ears as the silence from Antonin. A thick pool of blood spread out beneath his motionless body. They would all be standing in it in a moment due to the room being so small. Was there enough blood inside his battered remains to fill the entire house? She didn't know why that thought crossed her mind.

"He should've listened to you, girl."

Every word Umbridge spoke took an immense amount of effort. Each breath she took was more difficult than the previous. If Hermione scooped up little Henry in her arms and left, the bitch would die next to the wizard she once almost married in another life within hours. Perhaps that would've been the ending that she deserved. Lying in a pool of her ex-lover's blood while she slowly succumbed to her own injuries had a sort of poetic justice. Maybe if she'd been able to think more clearly in the moment, she would've done just that. But, her curiosity to know more kept her from exiting the house, Antonin's house, at once.

"Oh, but Tony dear never did have the best sense of judgment. Too emotional. Especially when we were little more than children playing at being adults."

Looking back to see that Henry was crouched behind a dusty armchair crying again, she stepped closer to the carnage. He didn't seem to be in any rush to move from his hiding spot. If he moved, she would make certain he couldn't come closer. There were plenty of harmless spells that kept children from wandering where they weren't supposed to. She didn't know them because there had never been a reason to study parenting spells, but she supposed maternal instinct would take over if necessary.

She stepped around Antonin's body to pick up the silver frame he'd thrown at Umbridge's head. The moment she saw it sitting on the dusty bookcase, she thought she'd gone mad. No one would blame her if she had after all. Antonin was easy to recognize in the photograph. Lacking the haunted expression usually present when he was awake, he looked carefree and happy. Never had she seen such happiness on his face. His arm was wrapped around the slim waist of a very young, giggling Dolores Umbridge. At least her annoying girlish laughter was age-appropriate in the photograph. Each of them could hardly keep their eyes off of the other. Even someone who didn't know their history could tell they'd been in love. Hermione had to bite back a laugh when she remembered her conversation with Antonin outside of Orford Umbridge's home. Had it really only been less than an hour? He laughed when she asked him if young Umbridge looked like a toad. Part of her didn't believe him when he said 'no'. Seeing the evidence changed her mind. No, Dolores Umbridge was never a great beauty. She was plain, but so was Hermione. Years in Azkaban and on the island certainly hadn't improved her looks any. It was petty to chide another woman for her looks, especially since there were a number of valid reasons to hate her apart from something so superficial.

"You loved him once."

It wasn't a question. Umbridge didn't rush to deny it either. Sighing loudly and then struggling for another breath, she was growing weaker by the second.

"I was a foolish child who almost allowed the ridiculous idea of some sort of fantasy life to get in the way of my career ambitions."

"Is that why you hated Antonin so much?"

"There were many reasons to hate him. I take it you know about the baby we lost?"

Not wishing to interrupt because she was genuinely interested to know what Umbridge would say next, Hermione only nodded.

"I suppose we were both responsible for its conception. We were foolish, but I never wanted it. If I changed my mind about being a mother, it would only be after many years of working and rising to the top of the Ministry. When I went to him the night I found out I was pregnant, I'd already decided to get rid of it, but I let him seduce me with a proposal and dreams of a future where we could have everything we ever wanted."

Even simply talking was stealing the last of the witch's breath. Her body was too weak, too broken to withstand the aftereffects of Antonin's torture. Still, even as she claimed she didn't want to be a mother and hated Antonin for assuming she did, Hermione didn't buy it. Not a single word. She spoke as if she was still trying to convince herself after so many decades that she hadn't had her heart broken and hardened by her loss.

"He tried to steal my career from me, force me to live in this disgusting hovel, and keep me breeding until we were more shameful than the nasty Weasleys."

"So adopting Henry wasn't your way of trying to fill the hole left behind by your lost baby? By yours and Antonin's baby?"

There were numerous times in Hermione's life when she'd been able to tell just from the look in someone's eyes that they hated her and would love nothing more than to end her life. None of them looked at her with such undisguised and raw fury than Dolores Umbridge after she accused her of doing the very thing Umbridge couldn't deny to herself. Maybe she didn't realize until just that moment that it was the truth. Or more likely she'd been trying to lie to herself since the day she decided to adopt their first child. Umbridge moved as if she planned to attack Hermione, but she wasn't able to move far. Only succeeding in placing herself closer to Antonin and directly in his growing puddle of blood, she stopped trying.

"I never wanted to be a mother and that hasn't changed. I only took Henry from you because I wanted you both to feel how much I truly hate you. The boy means nothing to me. The older he gets and the more he looks like his father, the more I hate him too."

Hermione still didn't believe a word she said. Before she could say as much, she was distracted by the sound of little feet running across the wood floor followed by the front door opening and slamming shut. At three years old, Henry could understand more than the adults around him realized. An already observant and inquisitive boy, thanks to his biological parents, he was intelligent and getting more so by the day. Even if he didn't quite grasp the meaning of his adoptive mother's confession, he understood enough to want to run away. What was going through his mind must have been terribly frightening. Hermione wanted nothing more than to run after him.

Before she did, Hermione took one last look at Umbridge laying in the mess she'd made. She used the distraction of Henry running out the door to move even closer to Antonin's body. Confused at first why she would want to be closer, Hermione almost missed the bitch reaching for Viktor's wand. Still held loosely in Antonin's hand, she was so close to getting it that Hermione felt her first rush of paralyzing fear since entering the house. Until that moment, she'd been numb and living in what felt like a dream. Knowing that Umbridge almost had a wand and had already proven to be unafraid to use an Unforgivable, she snapped back into the reality where she knew she was in grave potential danger. This was real. How close was she to making the same mistake Antonin did that took his life?

Throwing herself down on the floor ignoring the warm wetness she landed in, Hermione scrambled to reach Viktor's wand. Any further hesitation on her part and she would've failed. With the wand help firmly in her grip, she felt Umbridge's fingertips on the back of her hand. It occurred to her only as she lay on the floor that she had the power to summon the wand with magic at any point thanks to Umbridge's stolen wand. After so many years without magic, it would take some time to start thinking and reacting like a witch again. Once she was certain she had control of Viktor's wand, she threw Umbridge's useless wand across the room. Its loyalty might've transferred to Antonin the moment he disarmed the bitch, but it still felt disturbing and wrong in her hands. Moving by instinct more than thought, Hermione pointed Viktor's wand at Umbridge.

"Avada Kedavra!"

There'd been more than enough hatred inside of Hermione to cast the killing curse for the first time. For everything she'd been subjected to since the war was over and everything Umbridge had done to her before, she could've killed her a hundred times over. Her heart beat a million beats a second as she stared into the cold, dead eyes of the woman who caused so much pain in so many lives. Never, no matter what the consequences might be for casting the fatal spell, would she feel the least bit guilty or sorry.

"Expelliarmus!"

So lost had she been in thought following her first murder, Hermione didn't even hear the front door slam open and the room fill with the same wizards and witches they'd left behind in Orford Umbridge's home a short time earlier. Antonin's theory that tracking spells had been placed on them before they were allowed to leave the hospital made sense. As Viktor's wand flew out of her hand, Hermione felt an overwhelming heaviness fall over her body. If one of the kind aurors hadn't helped her to her feet, she was sure she would've been stuck on the floor unable to move for the rest of her life.

"Are you all right, Miss Granger? Are you injured?"

Realizing the entire front of her body was soaked red with blood, she felt her knees buckle. The same auror caught her before she could fall.

"I'm… it's… none of it is mine."

"Come with me, Miss Granger. You don't need to be in here any longer."

She was grateful for the wizard's gentle touch as he led her across the room to the front door. Multiple conversations were going on around her, but she couldn't focus on a single word. Later she would understand she was in shock.

The sound of a little boy's sobs helped clear her head in an instant. How could she have forgotten her son even with all of the chaos? Looking up she saw a very concerned Viktor holding her son protectively against his chest. Henry had his arms around Viktor's neck. One little hand still had his stuffed dog clutched tightly in a fist.

"Viktor caught him the moment he ran out the door. Hasn't let him go."

Whether he meant Viktor hadn't let Henry go or the other way around wasn't clear. The auror didn't bother to clarify. When Viktor caught sight of Hermione covered in blood, his eyes grew wide. She could only imagine how terrible she looked.

"Viktor, you should take them back to the hospital. We have everything under control here now."

Someone handed Viktor back his hand, thoughtfully cleansed of blood. Hermione felt a wave of guilt at the reminder that she had to use his wand to cast an Unforgivable. Did that sort of dark magic taint the wand used to cast it or just the person who uttered the curse? She didn't care for the power that came with the Killing Curse. It felt wrong, evil.

Hermione was only vaguely aware of what happened next. Everything felt very much like a dream or someone else's life she was watching instead of hers. Viktor kept a firm hold on Henry, warning him he would need to put his toy in the pocket of his robes for only a minute lest it be accidentally lost. He was hesitant to relinquish his dog, but one more reassurance from Viktor that he would let nothing happen to it finally convinced him he could trust the wizard. A portkey was offered. She could remember reaching for it and being pulled through it immediately.

They returned to the ground floor conference room they'd left only an hour or two earlier. Minister Levski was startled by their appearance. Seated at the end of a long table surrounded by official looking parchment, he had his eyes closed. Long, stressful hours were taking their toll on him. He glanced up, saw Hermione covered in blood and Viktor carrying a small boy who didn't want to let go. Alexei jumped to his feet.

"Viktor, what's happened?"

Guilt about the part she played in the entire affair prompted Hermione to speak before her old friend could. It was something of an act of catharsis confessing what happened. Both men listened patiently, never once interrupting. Perhaps they understood how difficult it was for her to get through it all. She appreciated it nonetheless. Somehow, no doubt with just sheer nerve, she was able to describe everything that happened from the conversation she had with Antonin while they stood outside to the attack on poor Viktor to how Antonin knew where to find Umbridge's hiding place. Though she had countless questions that she feared would never be answered now that the main players were dead in a rundown house in Yorkshire, she told them what she'd learned about their past. It was only as she began to describe how Antonin was stabbed in the back and how she had to kill Umbridge before the bitch killed her that she began to waver in her strength. When she was done, she felt lighter, but still sick to her stomach.

"I'm so sorry, Viktor. I had no idea Antonin was going to attack you. He didn't tell me anything."

"There's nothing you need to apologize for, Hermione. I can even understand why he hit me. He was desperate, wasn't he?"

She nodded. Few words better described Antonin's last hours than that. She wished she'd been able to pull more information out of him about his past before that day. Maybe they could've come up with a better plan, something that would've left only Umbridge dead. It wasn't her fault that he was reckless, but she would feel guilt for it for many years after the fact regardless.

"Miss Granger, you have had a very difficult afternoon. I would like you and little Mr. Henry here to be seen by a Healer."

No argument came out of her mouth. She knew Minister Levski was correct. While she didn't think there was anything physically wrong with her, she wanted to be certain. And the desire to make sure that Henry was okay was very strong. When she agreed, the Minister excused himself from the room for a few minutes.

"Thank you for your help, Viktor, but I can take care of Henry from here."

He made no move to let go of Henry despite her arms being held out. His eyes flicked up and down her body in a silent, exaggerated way. Without speaking, he made it clear that until she was no longer covered in blood, he would not be letting go. Henry's cry of 'no' followed by his tightening his hold on Viktor's neck was the deciding factor in letting her friend keep holding her son. Evidently, she frightened the child and considering what he'd been through that day and who knows what else before they arrived, she wouldn't force herself on him just yet. Maybe after they'd each had time to calm down and she had a shower and clean clothes at least.

Minister Levski returned a few minutes later with Healer Jacqueline. The woman was even kinder than she'd been the night before when she examined Hermione upon arrival. She was gentle with Henry. Somehow she was even able to convince him to poke his head out from Viktor's shoulder. Henry was perfectly healthy to Hermione's relief. No matter how shit of a mum Umbridge might have been to him, he was physically well cared for. Jacqueline did suggest that a dose of calming potion and perhaps some dreamless sleep would be beneficial for both of her patients.

They were led to an empty hospital room to take their potions and rest. With two beds instead of just the one like in Hermione's room she shared with Charlie the night before, she was going to be able to stay close with her son. Even if he wasn't ready to let her hold him in her arms, she had no intention of letting him out of her sight. Viktor was kind enough to sit in a chair with Henry until the little boy could no longer keep his eyes open. Only when he was asleep and tucked into his bed did Hermione even consider swallowing her own potions.

"You don't have to stay here, Viktor. I'm sure you have more important things to do."

"No, I don't. There is nowhere more important than right here making sure that you and your son are all right."

She wanted to argue with him that it was somehow inappropriate for him to remain in her hospital room while they both slept, but she couldn't bring herself to refuse him. Knowing that he was there keeping watch was more comforting that she could describe. He assured her again that he wanted to make certain that Henry didn't wake up afraid to be in a strange place. For whatever reason, her son felt safe with Viktor. So did she for that matter.

It didn't take long for her eyes to be too heavy to keep open once she downed the vials the Healer gave her to drink. Some of the shock of the day's events were wearing off. Hermione wasn't sure she was quite ready to face them. Decisions had to be made. The uncertain future loomed large and heavy over her. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

If one of the vials she was given was supposed to have been dreamless sleep potion, there had been a terrible mistake made in the apothecary. Every second she was asleep it felt like she was bombarded with vivid, sometimes disturbing dreams. She replayed the events in Yorkshire over and over again. Sometimes they were exactly as they'd happened in reality. Other times they were a frightening version of what could have happened. Antonin died in every single one. No matter what she tried, she could never change that outcome.

When her eyes opened again she could tell that she'd been asleep for a long time. How long was unclear. She hadn't looked at a clock when she laid down. The world outside the window was dark. Was it very late or very early? She couldn't tell. With no other sounds in the room except for the deep, even breathing from the bed next to hers, she was in no rush to get up.

Her dreams prevented her from getting the rest she needed. Many hours may have passed since she returned to Bulgaria covered in Antonin's blood but she knew it would take little effort to fall back asleep. She turned on her other side to find a more comfortable position.

Charlie sat in the chair that Viktor had been in hours earlier. His eyes were wide open and staring at her as if waiting for her to wake up. She tried to smile, but the expression felt impossible. What was there to smile about? While she was glad to see Charlie again, she knew that he wouldn't appreciate the friendly gesture. There was a thickness to the atmosphere in the room that hadn't been there when she fell asleep. It unnerved her, even frightened her.

"How long have you been here, Charlie?"

"Since I found out you were back. I didn't even know you'd left so imagine my surprise to hear you'd returned."

There hadn't been time to warn him that she was leaving. Viktor arrived so suddenly. Besides, Charlie was asleep, escaping reality with potions. How could she have told him she was leaving if he wasn't even awake to hear it?

"You found your son."

"Yes."

"And Antonin is dead?"

"Yes."

He sighed. The two men didn't care for each other, but there had been a slight respect that had developed over time.

"I am sorry to hear that. It seems wrong that it would happen just now, just when we've all but been given our freedom."

"I killed Umbridge."

"Good."

"Is it? I'm not so sure. Maybe it would've been better for her to be stuck in Azkaban for the rest of her life to think about her crimes."

Part of her would question whether or not she made the right decision for the rest of her life. There really wasn't a need to kill the horrible woman. Once she had Viktor's wand in her hand, she was powerless. The aurors were able to cross through Antonin's security wards once he died. They could've arrested her and taken her to Azkaban. It was likely that she wouldn't have survived her injuries as it was. Perhaps a slow, lingering death in a tiny, dank cell would've been fitting considering her sins.

"Krum cares about you. When I came in, I told him that he was free to leave, that you wouldn't be alone. He refused. Said he made a promise to you before you fell asleep and he intended to keep it."

He gestured towards Henry's bed with his head. Viktor lay on top of it asleep with Henry curled into his side. A protective arm was held around Henry's little back and he grasped his stuff dog with one hand and a fistful of Viktor's robes with the other.

"The little tyke woke up screaming a few hours ago."

"What?"

She tried to sit up, but Charlie was across the room in a second to keep her from getting up. The heavy potions were still in her system making her feel lightheaded and a bit woozy. If she tried to stand, she was in danger of falling.

"Must've been a really bad dream. Based on what Krum told me they found in the house, that's not hard to imagine. He actually saw the bitch stab Antonin?"

A nod was all she could bring herself to do to respond. Her eyes filled with tears at the reminder of the whole horrible ordeal.

"Poor boy. A couple of Healers ran in here and gave him another potion to help him sleep, but he didn't rest until Krum climbed up there with him. He cares for your son."

"Seems to."

"Good."

Charlie's odd behavior and the thick feeling in the room began to make sense. Ignoring his pleas that she stay laying down, Hermione managed to raise herself into a seated position. She wanted to be able to look him in the eye as they continued their discussion. He was never able to tell her a lie when they made eye contact and she needed the truth.

"You're leaving."

"Yes, I am."

He was on the verge of tears. To her surprise, she felt no anger towards him. Maybe she'd known that would happen eventually. Sooner rather than later would be easier on both of them.

"To Romania. I… I can't go back home. Not yet."

Hermione wrapped her arms around the wizard to pull him close. Resistant at first to the embrace, he quickly gave in. They held each other for a long time without speaking. A part of her would always love the wizard, but she knew she had to let him go. It wasn't right to try to keep him there. When they finally broke apart and their eyes met again, she could see the sorrow in his. A piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

"You can't look at me without seeing the island, can you?"

Tears dripped from his eyes. He couldn't look at her, confirming exactly what she suspected.

"I've been sitting in that chair thinking for the last several hours. I'm no good to anyone right now. Maybe I never will be."

"Charlie, don't say that."

"No, it's true. You're right. I can't look at you without thinking about the island. That's not fair to you. And now that Antonin's dead and you have your son, it's especially not right. He looks just like Antonin. What if I can't love him because of who his father was? I would never ask you to choose your son over me. Never."

The truth wasn't always easy to hear, but in that moment especially, she appreciated that he was honest. It wasn't surprising that Charlie would want to go back to Romania. His love for dragons had not dimmed in the years of his incarceration. If anything, his absence from them only made him more anxious to be with them again. It was wrong to ask him to choose between his dragons and a life with her. She had no desire to be in Romania and she certainly wasn't about to take her son to a dangerous place like the refuge to live.

"Kingsley is working with the Ministry right now. He'll probably be the Minister for Magic before this is all done. They're going to give us a chance to claim our children if we want them. I talked with Dad earlier and I've written a letter to the Delacours. If any of the grandparents want my two, they are welcome to have them, but I don't want to be a father. Not now. Maybe not ever."

"Nobody will blame you for that."

He scoffed, but offered her a half-smile.

"Are you sure about that? Because I feel like a walking piece of shite."

"It's infinitely better to offer your children a chance at a better life with a family who loves them than it is to force yourself to take them when you don't think you can love them the way they should be loved. And if other people can't understand that, fuck them."

Her choice of words surprised him. He was able to break some of the tension that had fallen between them with a chuckle.

"If they looked like their mother, I'm afraid I would grow to hate them even as I loved them too. Does that make any sense?"

"Absolutely."

"After a few years back in Romania, maybe I can come back. Maybe it won't be so difficult."

"You'll have to promise to visit me."

The promise caught in his throat, but she wasn't offended. It was a lot to ask after all. Instead, she leaned up to press her lips against his one more time. They'd lived a nice fantasy for a few hours the night before. She wouldn't regret a single second and hoped he wouldn't either.

"I'm going to love you until I die, Hermione."

She sincerely hoped not. He was still a young man. There would be plenty of time for him to meet someone else he could fall in love with. With a final hug, she let him go. She watched every single step he took out of the hospital room. When he closed the door behind him again, she rolled over onto her other side to try to fall asleep again. Viktor's eyes were open. He didn't even try to deny that he'd heard everything. She was asleep seconds after she laid her head back down on her pillow.

A very serious decision loomed over Hermione over the next few days. When she woke up, she knew she couldn't keep hiding from the world. Staying in a hospital in Bulgaria, no matter how warm and friendly the staff had been, was no way to live her life. After Charlie left for his refuge in Romania, she made a trip of her own.

Henry wasn't ready to leave the hospital either. The Healers made him as comfortable there as possible. There was still some lingering fear on his part whenever he saw his mother, but she was assured that it would just be a matter of time before he would learn not to be scared. Jacqueline had some experience with pediatric psychology of all subjects. Apparently the Healers in France weren't as frightened of Muggle methods and sciences as they were back home. It was a relief to understand that because of his young age, eventually he would likely forget everything he witnessed that horrible, horrible day.

"Will you be gone long?"

Viktor had been a constant support from the very beginning. Something about him calmed Henry down. He hadn't been in a rush to return to his own life. Whenever she asked, he would smile and say that nothing, not even Quidditch was more important than where he was right then. She felt guilty for relying on him so much, but without Antonin and also without Charlie, she was at a loss. It also hadn't escaped her notice that she felt calmer when he was around too.

"I will be back before bedtime. I promise."

"And are you sure you want to go alone? We could go together. I can ask my mother to come back to stay with Henry. He seemed to like her yesterday when she came to visit."

"Thank you, but I'm not going by myself."

It was tempting to ask him to make the trip back to Great Britain. But she knew that she couldn't rely on him for everything. Part of her was also afraid that his presence might encourage her to make a decision that might not be the best for everyone involved. After kissing Henry on the top of his head and gently squeezing Viktor's elbow, she stepped outside in the corridor.

Of everyone affected, Penelope Clearwater likely took Antonin's death the hardest. She'd convinced herself that she was in love with the broody former Death Eater. Maybe she was. Who could say for certain? Once the news reached her ears of what happened in his old home, she'd cried so hard that her husband Marcus insisted the Healers give her potions to calm her nerves and make her sleep. The loss of the fantasy of a love could sometimes be more difficult than actually losing the person.

"Are you ready, Penelope?"

"Very. I can't stand to be in this horrible place another moment. I want to go home and sleep in my own bed. Mum said she cleaned mine and Marcus' flat after it being empty for so many months, but I wouldn't care either way. I'd sleep in filthy, dusty sheets if I had to. Just as long as they were mine."

Hermione smiled even as she felt a pang of bitterness that she didn't have a home to go to. Almost an entire decade had passed since her parents moved to Australia. Their home would've been considered abandoned long ago. Likely another family had already made it their home.

The two women took the lift down to the ground floor. Most of the inhabitants of the island had trickled back to their homeland over the previous several days. Except for the former Death Eaters, of course. Their status was still somewhat unknown. Kingsley promised before he left Bulgaria that he would do whatever was necessary, make whatever deals he had to to make certain they would be free to leave the hospital as soon as possible.

One of the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic officials waited for them in the conference room. They'd requested an international portkey the day before. Penelope's would be one way; Hermione's would have a return trip. She hesitated before taking it, seriously considering rushing back upstairs to beg Viktor to come with her, but she stopped herself. She had to be strong again.

The trip to Penelope's parents' back garden only took a few seconds. She was staring at their door long before she was ready. Would she ever be ready though? Somehow she doubted it. A single knock on the door later and she was swept up into a joyful family reunion. She felt like an intruder.

Mrs. Clearwater was clearly nervous around Hermione. She was friendly, quick to invite her in, but it was evident that she didn't really want a visitor. Especially not that visitor. Once Penelope hugged each of her parents, they were led into the living room where a little girl sat on the floor in her prettiest dress playing with her blocks.

"Charlotte darling, there's a very nice lady that would like to meet you."

The quaver in Mrs. Clearwater's voice was impossible to ignore though everyone in the room tried. As little Charlotte crossed the room, Hermione felt her stomach clench and feared her heart would burst. Had she ever seen a more beautiful creature in her entire life? She didn't think so.

"Mummy, why you crying?"

For being only two years old, she spoke very clearly. It wasn't difficult to see her younger self in her daughter. There were some parts of Antonin there too. In her eyes mostly. Completely ignoring Hermione's existence, she went straight up to her adoptive mother to put her tiny arms around the woman's waist. The tears that were stuck in Mrs. Clearwater's eyes rolled freely down her cheeks. She was too overcome with emotion to answer the question. Taking pity on his wife, Mr. Clearwater smiled down at Charlotte.

"Because your mummy loves you so much."

It was manipulative without a doubt, designed to pull on Hermione's heartstrings. Penelope gently slapped her father's arm, silently begging him to stop. The admonishment only made Hermione laugh. This was a real family, something that she couldn't offer her daughter. Not at that moment in time. Her decision was made. She knew she would have to leave quickly before she changed her mind. Crouching down to put her face on the same level as her daughter's, she offered the young girl a bright smile.

"Your daddy is right. Your mummy is crying because she loves you. You should always remember that and be good for your mummy. Do you promise?"

Charlotte nodded her head, messy curls bouncing as she did so. Hermione pulled the girl in her arms. The embrace only lasted a couple of heartbeats, but she would never forget it. Nor would she come to regret her decision. Warning the Clearwaters that if she ever heard that Charlotte wasn't blissfully happy for the rest of her days she would come back, she made her excuses to leave. Mrs. Clearwater's sobs of relief could be heard from the back garden where Penelope stopped her long enough to hug her and thank her for what was the biggest gift she could ever give her family.

Thinking hard about her next destination, Hermione spun around in place. Her feet landed in front of the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. Memories flooded her mind. Nothing about the sleepy village seemed to have changed since the last time she was there with Harry and Ron filling up on butterbeer. It encouraged her to know that she could look back at that time in her life with a bittersweet joy instead of just pure sadness. Maybe one day she would be able to remember it with no bitterness at all.

Madam Rosmerta escorted her personally to the private room where she agreed to meet the next couple. Mr. and Mrs. Tiberius Zeller sat at a small table looking every bit as nervous as Mrs. Clearwater had just a short time earlier. Not that Hermione could blame them. A chubby little baby boy sat in his adoptive mother's lap completely unaware that his life could be about to change in an instant.

Tiberius Zeller was one of the few Ministry officials that still had a job and wasn't in danger of being carted off to Azkaban. It had been encouraging to discover that not everyone that worked for the Ministry of Magic was as corrupt and evil as Dolores Umbridge. Somehow he'd been able to fly just under the radar for years. When Hermione tried to discover as much as she could about the couple that adopted her and Antonin's third child, she sought out those she trusted for more information. Arthur Weasley had nothing but positive things to say about the wizard. Penelope confessed that though she wasn't supposed to know it, she'd heard a rumor from a very trusted source within the resistance group she worked for that claimed he was the one making certain none of the babies ended up in the wrong hands. He'd managed to steer all of the babies without exception to good homes where they were well cared for.

"Good morning, Miss Granger. Thank you for coming so far to meet with us."

Ever the diplomat, Mr. Zeller rose to his feet upon her entrance into the room. He offered his hand to shake and even pulled out a chair next to his much younger wife for Hermione. Not for a moment did she think he was simply putting on a show for her benefit.

Mrs. Zeller hardly spoke. She could only trust herself to mutter one or two syllables at a time. When she said anything at all in response to a question Hermione had or something her husband said, she subconsciously held her baby closer to her body. There was nothing that she wouldn't do for the child she'd taken into her home and her heart.

Hermione was surprised to discover that her decision regarding the son that could almost pass for a twin of Henry's was just as easy as it had been for the Clearwaters. Thanks to fate or God or just sheer coincidence, both of her children were placed with loving families. Could she have asked for anything more? After the nightmare that her poor Henry had to endure, she didn't think so. She kissed her son's head. As she walked out of the private room, she repeated the same warning she had at the Clearwaters.

A weight lifted off of her shoulders when she stepped back outside. She had every intention of following up as time passed on the two babies no longer in her care, but almost all of her fear of the future seemed to float away. They would be loved. They would be cared for. They would be safe. That was all she ever wanted.

Once she took a final look at Hogsmeade, she activated the portkey in her pocket to take her back to Bulgaria. She didn't want to linger. It was far too soon. Maybe, like Charlie, she would never want to return.

"Back so soon? I thought you would be gone longer."

Viktor tore his eyes away from the morning edition of the newspaper when Hermione reentered the hospital room she'd been staying in. Henry was down the corridor eating ice cream with Healer Jacqueline. For perhaps the first time since she was a fourth year obsessed with freeing the house-elves and bullying her friends into contributing to S.P.E.W., she was alone with the Quidditch player. Was it strange to feel so comfortable around him? Or was she simply desperate to latch on to whatever male companionship she could find after she'd been abandoned both by death and by dragons? Deciding that that was a question she could figure out in the future, she sat on the foot of the bed directly across from his chair.

"It was easier than I thought it would be, but I had to rush out of there before I talked myself into changing my mind."

"Are you sure you made the right decision?"

"No, but I hope I did. Both of them were absolutely beautiful, Viktor. Beautiful and adored. They had mummies and daddies that loved them. Security. I can't offer them that. Not right now. But Henry? He has nothing. He has no one but me."

"That's not entirely true, you know."

She thought back to the conversation they'd had the night before after Henry had fallen asleep. Viktor was about to walk out the door to return to his own home for the night when he stopped. Just based on the tension in his shoulders Hermione could tell that he had something serious on his mind that he wanted to discuss with her. When he spoke, explaining his offer, she felt both relieved and terrified. Relieved that she didn't have to worry about where she would go next. Terrified because she thought it was all moving too fast.

"I'm offering you nothing but friendship, Hermione. That's it. Friendship and a place to stay until you no longer need it."

"It's too much, Viktor."

"No, after what you've been through, I think it's not enough. You need somewhere you can feel safe again. That's all I'm offering. It's a big, empty house most of the time. I'm rarely there because of Quidditch. You can have an entire wing to yourselves if you need to. It's a large house."

Hermione rose from the bed. She closed the distance between them in a just a few steps to lean down to kiss the wizard's cheek. He couldn't possibly understand how much it meant to her to no longer feel so lost and alone. The way he described his country estate, she worried at first that there would be too much space. She still felt nervous in wide, open spaces, but hoped that she wouldn't be doomed to forever being scared of walking outside. It did sound wonderful though. Henry could grow up in a place where he could stretch his legs and breathe fresh air whenever he wished. It wasn't a bad way to start over.

"All right, Viktor. When can we move in?"

August 18, 2012

World's Most Eligible Bachelor Finally Off the Market

International Quidditch Star Viktor Krum married Hermione Granger in a small ceremony on his country estate in Bulgaria. Their son Henry, affectionately known as Harry, was officially adopted by Mr. Krum immediately after the marriage was finalized. The couple have known each other for many years starting with the Triwizard Tournament…

The End.