Chapter 2

"Dad? Did that man just call to you?" Ginny was meeting Draco at the Leaky Cauldron, and had accompanied her father there. A very handsome Muggle had brushed past him and Ginny could have sworn he said her father's name. "Are you spending time in Muggle pubs again, Dad? You know how Mum hates that."

Arthur shook his head, puzzled. He watched the man walk into a modern and very Muggle hotel. A few scantily clad women stood outside. "I haven't any idea what that was about, Ginny, but I obviously don't keep the company of many Muggles. The only ones I see often are the Grangers, but since Ron went off to Wales to train dragons, Hermione and her family haven't been around." He held the door open for his youngest child, his only living daughter. "Are you seeing Malfoy again?"

Ginny sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "His father isn't around, his mother is destitute somewhere and he works a real job now, he's a brilliant artist. He's a good Slytherin, okay, Daddy?"

"There is no such thing," her father grumbled and stepped up to the bar.

Ginny caught sight of Draco. She would not bicker in front of him, not again. It seemed that every time Draco was around her family, he was the source of their arguments. "Fine, then. Have a good evening, Dad." There was something very wrong with her father, Ginny realized, as she crossed the room to where Draco lounged in front of a roaring fire, a butterbeer in his hand. She wondered if Draco would be willing to help her find out what was the problem.

Arthur watched his daughter approach Malfoy and had to turn away. He would not lose another child to the dark side, no matter what it took. No matter who got hurt. He would not let it happen again.

Remus Lupin walked into a small non-descript house just over the Scottish border in England. The Order had been keeping this house for as long as he remembered, and he had exclusive use of it for times like these. He opened the door slowly and quietly. She still got scared easily. As expected, she was in the lounge area, staring at a Muggle television. It was one of her only interests while her mind healed and Remus didn't mind it at all.

He held out a paper bag. "I got some fish and chips. I hope you'll eat." The scent of the fish and chips, liberally doused with vinegar, had his stomach rumbling. "I'm sorry I was late. I had to spend some time with Bill. You remember Bill, don't you? Bill Weasley? Arthur and Molly's eldest son?"

She didn't answer, but then again, he hadn't expected her to. She had her good days and bad days and often, when he was called away on business, she had a terrible time of it. He'd been gone since dawn today, first meeting with Dumbledore and McGonagall, and then with Bill. Bill was damn close to some answers that could change his world and rid him of his curse. But she was most important to him. She had nobody to care for her, and her existence was a closely held secret.

"Here you go." Remus placed the food on a plate and brought it to her, along with a mug of warmed milk. Maybe today would be different. Maybe today she'd communicate with him. It was high time for a miracle.

The smell of hot food caught her attention, and she watched her constant companion over the last year. He took such good care of her but, to this point, she hadn't been able to come up with enough energy to thank him. Nothing mattered to her any more, her son and husband were gone. Remus had told her that Harry was alive, and a grown man now. This made sense, since the Remus she remembered was much younger, and not as tired looking. The only reason she knew who he was when she first woke up was because of how he smelled. He had always smelled like the forest on a spring day, and he still did. She knew that Remus would take care of her, no matter what. Lily reached out to pick up one of the chips off of the plate that he set in front of her. It tasted wonderful, just the way she liked it. Not many people would remember how a dead woman preferred her food, but her caregiver wasn't most people.

"Thank you," Lily said quietly, after a long minute. She couldn't believe how bad she sounded, that couldn't possibly be her voice, could it? "Remy, thank you." She said, a bit more forcefully. That sounded a little better, at least in her mind. Lack of use had obviously done a number on her vocal cords. She would have to try and talk more, to try and get her life back together again. No more pity for Lily Evans-Potter. She had wallowed long enough and now she needed to try and get better.

Hermione Granger approached the hotel that she had been told to meet Roarke at cautiously, watching for both friends and foes alike. She honestly didn't want to run into anyone she knew, she didn't want to wake up in the morning and have to explain what she was doing sneaking around to a well-meaning friend who saw her walking near the Leaky Cauldron. If she were honest with herself, she wasn't completely sure that this wasn't some elaborate prank that the boys had come up with. It was all very convenient that a famous man who she had a crush on as a young woman had invited her out for a drink after his concert, in the same area of London that backed up to Diagon Alley. Not that she honestly believed Roarke James was a wizard, but the coincidence was amazing, and she wouldn't be surprised at all if Ron or Harry popped their heads into the bar, laughing uproariously at her attempt at seduction.

Now where had that thought come from? Hermione had no intention of trying to seduce anyone, as if Roarke James, rock star and legend, could possibly be interested in her. He probably picked out one girl to flirt with at all of his shows, and took them back to his hotel for a little fun. A little fun wasn't what she was looking for, but the challenge had been too irresistible, and what sane woman would pass up a chance meeting with one of the hottest men in the world?

Hermione smiled at the doorman when he opened the door to the opulent hotel. She had been here before, for tea with an aunt, but it was still enough to take her breath away. The dark wood and sharply dressed attendants were subtle reminders that she was more than a little out of her element. She glanced towards the bar, but didn't see anyone in there. She stopped for a moment, to give herself one last chance to leave before things went any further. But she knew she wanted to see this to the end, and she did a quick finger check, to make sure that her hair and clothes were where they were supposed to be, before heading into the bar and ordering a hard cider. She normally wasn't much of a drinker, but something to take the edge off might not be such a bad idea. She jumped as she felt a hand run over her bare back, when, for the second time that night, she was caught unaware of her surroundings.

She turned around in her seat and found herself staring into the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. There was a hint of sadness in them, and something else she couldn't place if she had wanted to at that moment. But she felt an overwhelming need to comfort this man, to help ease some of the pain he seemed to carry with him. "Good evening, Mr. James, I thought that perhaps I had been stood up," she heard herself say, in a voice that was almost too husky to have belonged to her.

"Now why would I do that?" Unable to stop touching that tender skin, Roarke slid onto a barstool beside her. "Wouldn't you be more comfortable at a booth?" He gestured to the round booths situated in recessed corners, dimly lit and intimate.

As soon as the bartender returned, he held up his room key, knowing that the man would recognize the private, key-only floor "I'll have whatever the lady is having."

Roarke knew that both of them probably looked a bit out of place in the midst of such elegance, but he wasn't about to conform to his surroundings. His money was just as legitimate as white-collar businessmen, even more so, in many ways. The luxury of many years of recording had allowed him to build up quite a portfolio. Even if he never worked another day in his life, he could live very well off the royalties he'd amassed and the publishing catalogue he'd built up. He belonged here just as much as anyone else did, and the woman was his guest.

As the woman stood, he leaned close, brushing her earlobe with his lip as he said, "I'll have your name. What is it?"

"No change." Neville winced, sure that the words would some day not sting so deeply. His parents had been unresponsive for so many years now. Did he really think they'd open their eyes, smile and everything would be normal again? No, that bitch Bellatrix and her psychotic husband had ruined his life. But he'd killed them both in the final battle, not that it had brought his parents back. They were gone. Forever was when you talked to empty shells, the occupants long gone.

Today, he'd only spent twenty minutes or so with them. He couldn't take it. Some days he and Tonks would spend a weekend afternoon playing cards, chatting and taking tea in his parents' room. But today there was something so dark and bleak about the whole thing, he wasn't emotionally up for it.

Neville turned to his fiancée and grasped her hand. "I think we should go now. They look tired..."

They did, but he was the only one actually suffering. What was wrong with saying that he couldn't handle it today? Tonks had taught him more than anyone that he wasn't weak and that his signs of emotion didn't make him less of a man. Neville supposed old habits died hard. Even though he was far removed from the shy and clumsy boy he'd been at Hogwarts, the rejections he'd suffered as a child still grated a bit.

He squared his shoulders, then pulled up the blanket, tucking his mother in securely. "Tonks and I have to go for now. Get some sleep, Mum and Dad. We love you." With one last emotion-filled look, Neville turned away, wondering as he had many times before if this would be the last time he saw his parents.

As soon as they were outside the nicely appointed room, he sagged against the wall. "It is so hard to see them like this. I keep thinking it will be easier, but..."

"I don't honestly believe it will ever get easier." Nymphadora Tonks hated how these trips continued to hurt Neville, but she hadn't been able to come up with any way to make this better. She had made some quiet inquiries about new magical treatments, but nothing seemed to be suited to Frank and Alice's situation. But she would keep looking in hopes of giving Neville his family back.

"They wouldn't want you to be miserable, Nev. They knew what they were doing when they protected you and they wouldn't want you feeling like this every time you visited them." Her mother and father adored her fiancé, but she knew that it wasn't the same as having your own parents.

"But I'll always be here with you, Nev, we'll get through this together. You're not alone, you have me and my family and your friends, who will support you in any way we can." The man in front of her was nothing like the boy that she had first met, but the insecurities were still the same. "You are an amazing man, Neville Longbottom, and I'm sure that your parents are proud of you."

Neville smiled briefly and reached for her hand. "My parents most likely don't even know who I am, Nymph. They've been lost for too long." He shook his head. "Let's get out of here. Since your aunt isn't here any more, we can either go right home or somewhere for a pint and a bite to eat. Or we can see if Harry and Luna want to relax. We could get a curry on the way home and invite them in. Harry has been rather distant lately, hasn't he?"

Neville didn't work at the ministry like Harry and Tonks did, but they shared a past, a history, and they were the best of friends. He'd briefly dated Luna and knew that Harry and Tonks had shared a flirtation when he first joined the Aurors and became her partner. It was all ancient history and had never impacted their friendship. He and Harry had lost so much at the hands of the Dark Lord and that, as well as their shared birthday and the famous prophecy, would bind them always.

"There is no way of telling what your parents know or don't know. So let me have my pleasant thoughts." She took Nev's hand, and let him lead her away from St. Mungo's. "I think curry with the landlord would be the perfect way to end the evening, and I have to admit that I've been craving it for a while now." Carryout would be good even if their friends didn't join them, and she wasn't in much of a mood to go home and cook. It wasn't ever her favorite thing to do, especially after an emotional day like today.