One chapter to go. For people going 'what?!' first, I literally said as much like 2 chapters ago, second, this was never going to have a big climatic ending & I believe when a story has hit all the plot points the writer has set out, it's time to draw it to a close (any of you who regularly read me already know I rarely pen stories longer than the average modern novel (50k to 65k words [I beg everyone, stop letting fanfic make you think stories ranging 100k and up are novel-length, they're not, those are epic-length]).

Fifteenth Revelation

The door of The Three Broomsticks burst open, rushed footfalls thundering across the wooden planks of the entry way. Their combat instincts still quite raw and close to the surface so soon after the War—perhaps the children recently returned to school weren't the only ones on edge being so near to the scene of the final battle once again—Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy both started, whirling in place, wands at the ready.

"Whoa!" Hermione all but shouted the word as she skittered to a halt, her left hand out in a defensive gesture. How she'd already drawn her wand with the other to have it aiming right back at them was beyond her. Bloody leftover wartime knee-jerk reactions.

"Miss Granger," the elder Malfoys exhaled her name in unison, each of their tones a mingling of admonishment and relief.

Draco exited the pub door just in time to see the three of them lowering their wands. "Huh . . . . Well, it's a bit late, but that sort of is more the reaction I was expecting over the whole awkward us being mated thing."

Hermione winced hard, her entire face scrunching up in an image of pure discomfort. Narcissa pursed her lips and looked away from the younger couple, retaining her usual dignified air. Lucius appeared as though he were silently counting backward from one hundred in an attempt to avoid some unseemly outburst.

Once everyone had settled and he'd had time to appropriately collect himself, Lucius asked, "Where are they?"

"We're not sure." Hermione shook her head, frowning. She hated this—she knew Ginny was a fighter, perfectly capable of protecting and defending herself, but how did one defend or protect against a threat they didn't even know existed? Wherever she was with Blaise, she had no reason to suspect she might be in danger. "For all we know, we could be too late for whatever he might be up to."

"Granger!" Draco's voice tumbled from his lips a bit sharply. Clamping his hands over her shoulders, he met her gaze steadily as he said, "You need to keep calm, okay? You won't help anyone if you're not thinking clearly."

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slow, she nodded. "You're right. He's your friend, d'you have any idea where he'd go with a date?"

"That's the thing, Blaise is a flaunter. First date with a pretty girl? He would not take her somewhere they won't be seen. Your stupid centaur friend is right. Whatever Blaise is doing, doesn't seem like it's really him doing it."

"Wait, wait!" Narcissa still wasn't looking at them—or at Lucius, her gaze wandering as she thought. "Do you both remember back in the forest earlier? You simply knew where to go to meet the centaur. Maybe you can try that again, only with Blaise. Try to, I know this will sound ridiculous, but think of him and try to get a sense of where he could've gone."

Hermione was torn between worrying this could be a waste of time and not having any better ideas. Draco was already trying, his face a mask of concentration. Letting out a mildly disgruntled sigh, she gave in, closing her eyes and focusing on Blaise Zabini. She thought of his face, his stature . . . the annoyingly self-important haughtiness of his voice. His eyes . . . .

But then she was reminded of the other him, the him his people were trying to get to take over. The him Ginny had seen in her dreams with those eyes that shone jet through and through, and the violently red skin.

She felt a push.

Opening her eyes, she glanced over her shoulder. No one was near enough to shove at her back. The sensation had also been too gentle to actually have been a physical touch, she realized.

Hermione took a single step in the direction of that nudge. Draco took a step right beside her.

Turning her head, she caught his eyes. "You felt that?"

He nodded. "C'mon."

Without another word, the pair started off. They looked about as they moved, clearly searching for wherever they were being led with every footfall.

Lucius' shoulders slumped. Not this again, but Narcissa was already trailing after them, her fingers clutching the sleeve of his robes to tug him along behind her.

They seemed to walk all over Hogsmeade. Hermione was starting to think that perhaps this was a mistake—who knew if they actually were following Blaise and Ginny?—but then maybe he really had walked all over with her after breaking away from Pansy and Neville.

Maybe he was looking for just the right place to do whatever it was he was up to. She didn't even try to think on that. Firenze's warning about taking energy from the victim of his nightmare affliction was dire enough without her own imagination tacking on.

Just when it seemed they were heading back 'round full circle, Draco halted. "Wait," he said, the word barely a whisper.

Hermione froze beside him, her heart hammering against her ribs. She looked about. Listened carefully.

"Weasley?" The voice was faint, an alarmed sort of whine that sounded nothing like the Blaise Zabini with whom she was familiar.

Draco was already moving toward the noise, and she followed, her wand once more at the ready. He tried not to seem upset over her arming herself so quickly, but he knew he couldn't fault her for it, either. This might be his friend they were stopping, but it was her friend they were saving. Well, what he was actually hoping was that they were saving them both.

Around the corner of the nearest building, along the alley that ran behind the shops, a figure stood. His back to them, they couldn't see what he held before him, making Hermione's stomach ice over at how he hunched in place.

"Blaise?" Draco called, his hand hovering above Hermione's wand arm in caution.

The figure started, but didn't run. Instead, he turned to face them.

Blaise stood, his eyes showing white all around and his dark skin ashen. In his arms, Ginny swayed, her red hair spilling wild over his elbow.

"I don't—" His voice appeared to leave him and he tried again as Hermione ran toward them. He didn't even seem to notice her, his gaze fixed on his friend. He rambled on as the other witch took Ginny from his arms and settled her gently on the ground, checking her pupils and her pulse. "I don't know what happened. We were snogging, that was all, and then there was this . . . this flash in my head and she passed out. Right like that."

"A flash in your head?" Draco asked as he approached, aware of his parents lingering in the mouth of the alleyway—hanging back in case they were needed, yet not intruding. "Of what?"

"I—I don't know! I don't . . . I had a nightmare. I looked like a monster and I was being led to some weird wooden throne in the forest. I saw that and then she was just out cold." Blaise's breath caught in his throat as he looked about. "I don't even remember coming here."

Draco's eyes widened, but there was no time for more questions.

Hermione looked up, her gaze darting between them. "I think she's okay, just unconscious. We need to get her to Madame Pomfrey. Now."

Blaise appeared to stiffen then. It was lost on neither of them the way he backpedaled a step—as though he was unaware of his own body moving.

"No you don't." Draco latched a hand around his friend's arm. "Don't make me draw my wand on you, Blaise. No one wants that."

Giving a start, Blaise glanced around, seeming very surprised to find Draco holding him in place and to hear himself being threatened. When had he moved back from them?

Meeting Draco's gaze, he asked in a low voice, "What's happening to me?"

Draco felt his throat close on the words. This was all so unlike Blaise. Blaise was proud and arrogant and always—always—certain of himself. To hear him sound shaken . . . . That was a gut punch Draco hadn't been expecting.

Swallowing hard, the pale haired wizard forced the words out as calmly and steadily as he could manage. "It's a long story, but everything will be explained once she's safe. Please don't fight us."

"I don't . . . ." Blaise's features shut down. He was feeling markedly reasonable at the moment, and he was going to stick with that as long as he had it. Possibly against all odds, he was really starting to like Ginny Weasley, and he felt a bit sick that he'd done something that might've hurt her. Sicker, still, that he didn't even have control of his own actions about it. "I don't know that I can be trusted not to fight you if I'm moving without even knowing it. It's probably best you subdue me so I don't—"

"Petrificus Totalus."

As Blaise froze solid where he stood, Draco turned his head to look at Hermione. She remained hovering protectively over her friend, but her wand was drawn. It was trained, still, on the petrified young man.

His shoulders drooping, he started, "Granger . . . ?"

She shrugged as she climbed to her feet and uttered a levicorpus to lift Ginny from the ground. "I only promised not to hurt him. He's perfectly uninjured. Let's go."

There was no way to subtly enter the school, what with an unconscious witch, a petrified wizard, and the elder Malfoys in tow. As they wound through the ground floor of the castle toward the hospital wing, Hermione realized that with Firenze already having clomped his way through here earlier with the headmistress of the school and now their entrance, there was also no way the entire place wouldn't be buzzing with curiosity about this soon enough.

There were only a few students milling about, everyone else was either already in their common rooms or still on their way back from Hogsmeade, but it only took one voice to kick a rumor mill into action.

The Malfoys skirted ahead of them to open the doors to the hospital wing. Lingering about the front desk—all visibly anxious—were the headmistress, the school Healer, and Draco's favorite centaur.

"Here, quickly," Madame Pomfrey said, hurrying to the nearest bed. Hermione immediately directed her friend's unconscious form to follow.

Firenze looked from the petrified Slytherin student to the Horned One. "He is frozen?"

Draco winced. He didn't like having to speak to this one directly, but he supposed the bastard was harmless enough given how he kept trying to help them. Bastard. "She subdued him without hurting him, it's about as much as we can expect given what we stumbled upon. It'll wear off soon."

Pale eyes narrowing in suspicion, Firenze asked, "What did you stumble upon?"

With a sigh, Draco settled himself in the closest seat, relaying the scene—and Blaise's explanations—while Madame Pomfrey tended Ginny. When he finished, Firenze and Hermione switched places, the centaur lending aid to the Healer while Hermione stumbled over to take a seat beside Draco.

She looked pale. Tired. More than he'd seen her in the past half-month they'd been dealing with this madness. Clamping a hand over hers, he couldn't say he was surprised when she jumped a little at the contact.

He only asked after she met his gaze, "You okay?"

Chewing at her lower lip, she nodded reluctantly. "I just hate this. I can't believe we were so wrapped up in ourselves we didn't see this coming. They're our friends . . . respectively, of course."

His grey eyes shooting wide, Draco shook his head. "Granger? Be serious. How could anyone have seen this coming?"

A pensive frown tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I suppose you're right. I think maybe I'm just not used to feeling helpless."

They lapsed into silence for a few moments. Professor McGonagall had just finished up some hushed conversation she'd held with the Malfoys, and now was crossing the room toward the younger couple.

Standing before them, her hands clasped in front of her, she took in their weary expressions, their worried gazes. And decided she couldn't do it. She couldn't add more to what they were dealing with right now. Maybe when this was all settled.

"A missive arrived for you from Beauxbatons," she said, forcing a small comforting smile. "They said it will take them time to dig up any information for you, but they'll let me know once they have something."

Hermione sighed. It didn't very much matter, did it? No information in the world could change what had happened. "Thank you."

"Miss Weasley's fine." Madame Pomfrey's voice rang through the room. "She just needs rest and plenty of fluids for a few days to recover the energy taken from her."

"Oh, thank God!" Hermione hadn't expected her eyes to swim or her throat to clog up just a little with the news, but the relief was a bit overwhelming. She covered her mouth with her hands for a moment, schooling her features. As soon as she considered herself calm enough to speak without babbling, she asked "What's to be done about Blaise? Can . . . can you help him?"

Draco turned his head, his gaze tracing her profile. She did care about his friend, after all. He understood, she might not like Blaise, she might even be angry with him for endangering little Weasley over there, but Blaise was his friend and that made him matter to her. The faintest slip of a grin curved his lips.

"I will bring him to the colony. He will be protected." Firenze glanced at the far darrig child. "Their kind . . . they are not born dark. No one is, no matter what human stories may tell you. They are turned, twisted. In the case of his people, they willfully nurture this warping of their young, bemoaning all the things they believe they deserved but do not have."

"Like rule over the Wood," Draco offered a guess.

Firenze nodded. "Yes. We will teach him all he must know about his people, about himself, and separate him from their influence."

"He'll be safe with you?"

The tone in Draco's voice as he asked that broke Hermione's heart.

"Yes," the centaur said again. "He will return once we are certain he will no longer fall prey to their influence."

"Who's going to tell all this to his mother?" Draco asked under his breath. Hermione folded her lips to hold in a laugh that would not be wholly appropriate just now, and shrugged. Perhaps they could talk his parents into handling that.

Firenze went on as though Draco'd not spoken. "Successfully barring them from control of the Wood is imperative now. That . . . rests with you two."

"Us?" the couple asked in the same breath.

"You must rightly claim your Consort."

Hermione's brows shot up and she gave a sobering shake of her head. "How do I do that?"

"There is a ritual. You will understand in the moment. Under the light of the next waxing moon, you must show the Wood, itself, that you accept both of his natures."

She thought she was going to start tearing at her hair out of sheer bewilderment. "And how am I to do that, exactly? What is this ritual?"

His tail flicked rather noisily then, swatting against his flank. Draco thought perhaps Firenze was still a little displeased with her choice in Consort. "You will know," was all the palomino said before he turned and clomped across the floor to retrieve Blaise.

Features pinched in a sour look, Draco nodded. "See?" he said, his voice a hissing whisper in Hermione's ear. "That's why I hate centaurs. Always so bloody cryptic."

She held in a second laugh as she rested her head against his shoulder. "Sure. That's why you hate them."