Title: A Lullaby for the Changeling

Authors: Emily Waters, strega verde

Beta: whitehound

Genre: Gen, drama

Characters: Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, OMC, OFC

Summary: The war is over. Everyone who fought on the wrong side gets a second chance, whether they like it or not.

Story details: This story is already finished, I'll be posting it about a chapter per week. This story (complete) is available in Russian on snapetales. com.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Second Chances or A Lullaby for the Changeling

Then, oh, Lord, remove us from the face of the earth and create us anew, make us better men this time, more perfect beings.

Brothers Strugatsky, "Hard to be a God"

Prologue

She woke up to the sound of a child crying. Somewhere at their doorstep an infant was howling, screeching in bloody terror. Next to her, Ron stirred in his sleep and mumbled something incoherent. The doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," Hermione said. She reached for the wand on her bedside table and cast a Lumos spell. Ron opened his eyes and sat up in bed.

The doorbell rang again. The child continued to cry.

They shuffled to the door side by side, Ron stepping in front of Hermione to open the door, his wand drawn.

In front of them stood Neville, his arms outstretched, holding a howling baby in front of him.

The baby. Hermione couldn't bring herself to call it – her – by her real name, even in her thoughts.

"What's going on?" Ron asked, lowering his wand and stepping aside to let Neville in.

Neville held the child as if it were an inanimate object. For a second Hermione feared he might just drop the baby on the floor, but Neville simply deposited his burden into Hermione's arms.

She received the baby automatically and held her up, rocking her. The screaming continued, the soothing motion making no difference at all.

"She won't fucking stop crying," Neville said numbly. He didn't make a move to go inside.

"That's what babies do, Neville," Ron said, short on patience. "They pretty much just cry and eat and crap. Then they grow up and start getting into real mischief."

"I want no part of this," Neville muttered, taking a step back. "I can't handle it."

"And we can?" Hermione snapped. The baby shrieked. "Neville, this isn't good." She shifted the baby in her arms, finally finding a position that seemed to work. The shrieking died down, replaced with pitiful whimpering. Carefully, as if barely trusting herself, Hermione stroked the child's head, sorting through the wisps of dark hair. It felt soft to the touch.

"Well, come in. Let's talk," she said, rocking the infant in her arms.

"There's nothing to talk about," Neville said, but followed her and Ron into the kitchen, the door shutting behind them.

Hermione sat down, careful not to disturb the infant who had finally quieted down.

Ron searched the cupboards, getting out the bottle of firewhisky and pouring it into three glasses.

Neville took one glass and drained it in a single quick gulp.

"I don't understand," Hermione mused. "You seemed to know what you were getting yourself into when you took her. You and Hanna both. I heard you speak at the adoption hearing. You wanted to help set things right, you wanted to be kind to her..."

Neville's face contorted with rage. "I did want to set things right," he whispered. "But I didn't take her to be kind to her."

Instinctively, Hermione held the child closer. "You meant to hurt her."

"Yes," Neville admitted. "I must have gone completely mental but yes, I did. It was so easy to lie there, to say all the right things. And they let me take her." Neville paused, cradling the empty glass in his hands. "They should have listened to you. You were just about the only one who was warning them that some people might want to adopt for wrong reasons. Like revenge. Pity they don't listen to you, huh? But I guess even you couldn't have imagined I'd be one of those bad people you were so concerned about."

Hermione didn't' answer. Neville was right, she wouldn't have thought Neville capable of even considering something like that. But then again, grief did strange things to people, she knew that too.

"I could never hurt her, you know," Neville said softly, as if in response to Hermione's unspoken thoughts. "But I can't be the one raising her. I could never see her as just some child, you know? I'll always know who she is. She gives me the creeps, to be honest. And she never – never bloody-well stops crying."

"Then you should take her to Family Services," Ron said abruptly, cutting Neville off in mid-sentence. "You aren't the only one with problems, Neville. Hermione's still having nightmares about the Manor – and you bring this to our home? Come on! Is this even legal, dumping her on our doorstep like this?"

"Huh?" Neville winced at the mention of Hermione's nightmares. "Uh. Yeah, it's legal. I looked it up. Private adoption is fine. I mean – if you two are willing, that is."

Hermione's hands shook slightly as the baby settled against her and went to sleep. "I don't know, this isn't exactly... I mean... I don't know." She was stammering, barely able to string two words together. "Oh, come on, this isn't fair!" she lamented. "Why us? Why didn't you just take her to back to the Ministry, Neville?"

"She's just a baby. I guess I was worried she'd end up going to..." Neville shrugged helplessly. "Well, to someone like me. At least I know, if you decide to keep her, you'll be good to her. Or find someone else who will be." Neville got up. "Look, I'm really sorry about this..."

"Don't be," Hermione said softly. "Just go home, Neville. You did the right thing in the end, and that's what matters. We'll take it from here."

"Will we?" Ron demanded. "I didn't agree to this. Hermione! We don't have any... baby stuff."

That was putting it mildly. They lacked more than just the "baby stuff" - they were nowhere near being ready to start a family. They were both still in school, living off a modest stipend provided by the Ministry of Magic and working on completing their seventh year at Hogwarts.

The house they were living in wasn't theirs, needless to say. It belonged to Bill, given to him by Gringotts as an employment perk. Fleur wasn't impressed with the house: it was too small, the kitchen was too cramped, and the horribly neglected garden was overrun by harmless but numerous magical vermin. Bill, on his part, was too enamored with Fleur to argue about something like this. As a result, Hermione and Ron were allowed to take over the house rent-free. They were comfortable enough for now – as long as it was just the two of them.

Which was about to change. Hermione already knew that, even if Ron was still in denial.

"It's okay," she said. "We can buy everything in the morning."

"You've got school in the morning!" Ron's voice rose by a few notches, but Hermione waved at him to shush him.

"Not anymore, I haven't."

Neville shook his head miserably. "Sorry again. What a fucking mess."

Hermione was inclined to agree with him, but Neville's misery was almost palpable and she didn't want to add to it.

It was strange, that she'd make a decision like that in a matter of mere minutes. Hermione Granger was too rational to believe in fate, but somehow, she always had a sense that everyone had to play with the cards they were given. This child was the hand they were dealt. They had the right to refuse, and nobody would think less of them if they did... but somehow, doing so felt like cheating.

"It's okay," she heard herself say, looking at the child, sound asleep in her arms, and almost believing that somehow, they'd manage.

"By the way," Ron asked, his voice tense, "Did you give her a new name?"

Neville shook his head. "No." Seeing the surprise on Ron's face, he added. "I couldn't... Didn't feel right. Look, she doesn't have herself, or her memories anymore. Her name's the only thing she's got left."

"Mm," Hermione mused. "Yeah, I guess it makes sense."

She could feel a dull ache in her chest, as the child's name was about to fall from her lips.

"Welcome home," she murmured, "Bellatrix."

To Be Continued...