AN: Repost and Rewrite
Originally posted under the screen name of Alayyanna. See her profile for more information. : )
Title: For a Baby's Innocence
Author: Alayyana
Series: Don't know yet
Genre: Harry Potter
Rated: R (for implied violence, adult sexual situations, language)
Pairings: DM/OfC (briefly), DM/HG
Warnings: violence, adult het sexual situations, some language, fempreg
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowlings owns all rights to the established Harry Potter characters written into this story, as well as the entire environment in which they live. I own only Katherine and the plot -- such as it is. I will make no money from this story and intend no copyright infringement.
AN: I have no clue whether there really is a train called the 'Scotland Express', but for the purposes of this story, it exists. : )~
WARNINGS: Those who are easily offended about religious parallels might want to give a skip to this story. While there isn't anything religious about the story itself, my use of a virgin giving birth might offend the more focused Christians in the fandom. (Yes, there's a logical, explainable reason. : )~ ) Any outraged flames on this subject will be giggled at and then used to feed my pet dragon.
Not old enough? Illegal where you reside? Don't read. Other than that, please enjoy.
Summary: Draco marries against his father's wishes and discovers just how far the older wizard is willing to go to control his life. It lands Draco in a desperate situation, and despite what he may wish, Hermione is the only person who can help him.
xxxxx Precedes and follows a flashback xxxxx
xxx scene change/time jump
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Chapter One
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Draco screamed her name for what seemed the millionth time, but still she didn't respond. He swallowed convulsively, fear of a kind he'd never before felt, washing through him like an ocean wave. "Katherine!" he tried again, truly becoming desperate. The motel was barely standing, the walls surrounding him looking as though they could fall in at any moment. He had to find her before that happened.
Blinking back the tears that made seeing even more difficult, Draco hurriedly picked his way through the debris that used to be their summer home. Finally giving up on this room, he quickly headed to the next. She could have been in any one of several when the attack started. Clamping down on his growing fear, Draco hurried. He'd known all along that defying his father was an exceptionally stupid thing to do, but it had become something he'd had to do. He just hadn't realized it would have this bad a result. At the end of the last school year, almost the moment he'd stepped through the front door to Malfoy Manor after having successfully completed his 6th year, Lucius Malfoy had told him he'd be receiving his mark.
Draco wanted nothing to do with it, but that wasn't something he'd been able to tell his domineering parent -- not at the time, anyway. He'd nodded as expected, mouthing the proper platitudes about how grateful he was and how he was looking forward to serving the Dark Lord. All the while, he was mentally heaving and trying to figure a way out of the situation without ending up imprisoned or dead. It hadn't looked promising.
"Katherine!"
Nothing.
Sighing, briefly closing his eyes as an overwhelming tide of grief swamped him, Draco kept moving. He had to find her. He couldn't give up hope. If he grieved, that would be admitting there was no hope.
What happened later that night, however, had swept his concerns regarding the dark mark to the back of his mind. Katherine had owled him, the grey owl reaching him almost the moment he had stepped into his bedroom suite. Her note had said it was urgent they meet. At the time, he'd smirked, thinking she simply could not bear to be away from him. It had felt good, that ego swelling moment, falling as it did on the heels of the rather humbling argument with his father.
Argument? he scoffed silently to himself as he continued moving, hunting. I'd have had to actually voice a difference of opinion for it to have been an 'argument'.
For the first time in his life Draco was actually in love. It was a heady, terrifying sensation, love was. It made him do things he wouldn't ordinarily do, like acting bravely and all that rot, like making him think of someone else's needs above his own, like defying his father. It was quite sickening really, he realized, whenever he took the time to think about it.
Mostly he didn't think about it. Mostly, he simply let himself feel.
At first, they'd kept it all rather secret. Mainly because he knew his father would lose it when he found out. There was one tiny little thing wrong with her. Way back in her family line there was . . . muggle. Oh, she didn't descend from muggleborn. It was nothing that horrendous. No, her great, great grandfather had been a half-blood, born of a pureblood wizard and a muggle woman.
It had taken Draco a long time to accept that little fact, and right now, he was cursing the lost time as he continued his frantic search through the rubble. He would never forgive his father if she died here.
x
x
xxxxx
"What?" his father hissed, his voice deadly quiet.
Draco winced inwardly, proud of the fact that the reaction didn't show outwardly. "I said, I want to marry her."
"Never," his father replied flatly.
"I will marry her," Draco insisted just as flatly, not raising his voice one decibel.
"Not as long as there is breath in my body, Draco Androse Malfoy.
xxxxx
x
x
Draco shuddered even as he kept looking. It had been at that moment that he had pulled out the big guns. Katherine was pregnant. It was his child, and no matter the insinuations his father made, Draco had absolutely no doubts on that point. Unfortunately, the tactic had backfired. His father had gone altogether ballistic and forbade Draco to even speak with her.
He was well aware of what his father's objection had been -- after all, it had taken him almost six months to move past it himself -- but it wasn't like she was muggle, or even her parents. For Merlin's sake, the muggle was five bloody generations gone!
He had remained silent under the quiet rage of his father, no matter how much he had wanted to shout and rant, and even hex his father for some of the names he had called Katherine. Draco had held his peace, certain with all the fortitude of youth that his father would eventually come around -- just as he had. He just had to present the man with a fait accomplis.
The next night, he had sneaked out of the manor, having spent the day clearing out his personal Gringotts' account. He'd known it wouldn't be enough to live a lifetime on, but they had only needed enough for the summer months. There was still one year of school left, after all. That was plenty of time for his father to calm down.
Together, they had run to the one place they were old enough to marry without parental consent -- Scotland. As terrifying as the very thought was, they had even left their wands behind so they could not be tracked by magic -- not easily at least.
They'd been married quickly and quietly, leaving Scotland immediately after. His father wasn't stupid and Draco had not wanted to be anywhere his father might think to look for him. Considering the subject matter of their fight, Scotland was too obvious.
It had been Katherine who had come up with a solution.
x
x
xxxxx
Sitting cuddled together in their private compartment on board the Scotland Express, Draco's hand resting reverently on Katherine's belly, the two newlyweds discussed their options -- limited though those were.
"I have an idea, but I don't think you're going to like it."
Draco smirked. "Anything is better than being hauled back home like a recalcitrant child," he replied with wry twist of his lips. "Tell me."
"We could go muggle."
Draco blinked, freezing motionless. "Excuse me?" he asked. "Would you please explain that."
Katherine sighed. "I knew you wouldn't like it."
Draco shook himself out of the automatic horror her phrase had invoked. "I admit the very thought of 'going muggle' leaves me absolutely cold," he replied carefully. He wasn't an idiot. He wasn't about to tempt Katherine's uncertain temper right now. He had heard too many horror stories about what his own mother had been like when she'd been carrying him. "Perhaps if you defined precisely what you mean by 'going muggle'."
Turning within his hold, Katherine locked her eyes to his, her expression hopeful. "We already left our wands behind, so we're halfway there."
Draco shuddered. Not having his wand was something he was not comfortable with. He felt defenseless and entirely naked without it. Until this moment, however, he hadn't really thought about the fact that it left them virtually magicless -- no better than muggles.
His eyes widened as the realization hit. He'd never spent any amount of time without being surrounded by, and being able to do magic -- not since his magic had first begun manifesting. He wasn't entirely certain he could survive that way. Part of him suddenly wasn't so sure about his 'horror' of being 'hauled home like a recalcitrant child'. Right now, he was wondering if it wasn't the best of all options. In short, he was afraid.
"Shhh," Katherine soothed, her hand gently cupping his cheek. "We can do it."
He grinned slightly, her words and touch calming him like balm on a fresh burn. "So," he replied shakily, "explain your plan to me."
xxxxx
x
x
She had been right. He hadn't liked the idea, but even so, he'd been forced to admit it was a good one. They'd left the wizarding world behind and walked hand in hand into muggle London. Thankfully, Katherine was far more experienced at all things muggle than he was. Without her, he wouldn't have made it. He'd spent his entire 16 years completely sheltered from any hint of muggle life, and it had left him ill-equipped to deal with that world.
They had rented a motel room -- in a far seedier part of town than he'd prefer as no one else would rent to two teenagers without muggle ID -- and they'd been there ever since, interacting with muggles on a daily basis.
For two months the only . . . problem had come when they had run into Granger, of all people. Both he and Katherine had nearly panicked. If they'd had their wands, a quick obliviate, cast without a single shred of remorse, would have been the end of it. They, obviously, hadn't had that option.
To Draco's surprise, something that remained to the present, was the fact that Granger hadn't immediately reported them -- despite the fact that according to her, they were both on the front page of the Daily Profit as 'missing'. Granger had listened quietly as Katherine explained -- explained more than Draco was comfortable with, truth be told.
Granger had kept their secret for almost a month now, being far more helpful than Draco would have ever given her credit for. Oh, they still didn't like each other -- though he suspected that Katherine might actually like the bint -- they had merely set aside their mutual antipathy for the duration. Draco had incentive, after all, and that helped him hold his tongue. What confused him was what Granger got out of the deal. At the very least, he'd expected some sort of blackmail. None had come as of yet. The potential for it, however, kept him on edge, wondering when the proverbial axe would fall.
A quiet, barely heard moan, jerked him from his thoughts. "Katherine!" he cried out, rushing to her side. He blanched as he dropped to his knees next to her. Blood matted her hair, and dribbled from the side of her mouth. The huge dresser that had belonged to their neighbor, was lying across her legs, pinning her to the debris strewn floor.
He cursed beneath his breath even as he carefully caressed her cheek. Why couldn't she have been in their room? If she had, he might have found her sooner. As it was, he knew it wouldn't be long before the muggle authorities came searching. Looking at her now, he was terribly afraid that it was already too late, something he really didn't want to think about.
"Draco," she whispered faintly.
"I'm here," he replied, his own voice barely audible as he fought to get any kind of sound past the seemingly impassable lump in his throat. "Everything will be okay."
She started to shake her head, aborting the movement even as she cried out in pain.
"Yes, it will," he declaimed angrily, refusing to believe any differently.
Her weary eyes narrowing dangerously, Katherine locked gazes with him. "No," she whispered, "it won't. They knew what they were doing. You need to get out of here before the muggles find you."
"No," he replied flatly, rage filling him at the very thought of leaving her behind. "I'm not leaving you."
"Listen," she insisted, one hand fluttering toward him.
He gripped it in his own, willing his own strength into her, no matter how useless it seemed.
"Go to Hermione's."
His eyes widened in outright shock. He couldn't go crawling to Granger for help. It would be humiliating. He shook his head. "I'll get you out of here," he replied instead, rising to his feet and letting go of her hand. He grabbed the edge of the dresser and tried to lift it. He stumbled back in horror at Katherine's pain filled yelp.
"Don't, please," she begged.
He dropped back to his knees beside her, at a complete loss. "It's too heavy, I can't lift it anyway."
She nodded. It was as if she'd known as much already. He frowned.
"I sent an owl to her."
"What?!" Draco demanded furiously. Katherine, in danger from his father's deatheater friends had taken the time to send an owl -- to Granger of all people? If she was going to do that, why not choose someone who could actually help?
"It was no use trying to run, Draco," she admonished quietly. "You know that, even if you refuse to see it. We gambled, and we lost."
Draco shook his head. He was not going to lose her. He just had to think of something. What that could be, he couldn't fathom at the moment. Deatheaters were most likely getting closer every moment they stayed here, not to mention the muggles. He knew they had to already be in their rooms and it would only be a matter of time before the search spread to include the neighboring ones.
"Why?" he asked forlornly. "Why her? Why not Dumbledore, or your family?" Someone, anyone, who could actually help?
The overly loud pop of an apparation arrival sent Draco stumbling to his feet, grabbing for the closest thing to a weapon he could get his hands on. He may not have his wand, but he wasn't completely without defense. He just felt like it.
He sagged in shocked disbelief, heavily mixed with relief, as he realized just who the intruder was. Granger. She nodded to him once, hurrying to Katherine's side.
"I sent an owl to Headmaster Dumbledore, Katherine," she said quietly, her wand out and pointed at Draco's wife. "Curatio recognitio."
Draco frowned as he tried to work out the meaning of the spell Granger had cast. The moment he did, his breath caught in his throat and he turned to face her, hope naked on his face. Maybe she could help, after all. Maybe her being a know-it-all might actually be a bonus in this case.
When her expression melted from determination to sorrow, Draco couldn't stop the tears that formed and fell silently down his face. "You can't do anything, can you?" he asked quietly, his voice filled with undirected venom.
She shook her head, not looking at him. "No one can, Draco."
That was it! That was all Draco could take. "You're not even out of school yet, Granger!" he snapped angrily, launching himself to his feet. "Don't tell me that just because you can't do it, no one can!"
"She's right, Draco," Katherine said, her quiet words whipping the wind from his tirade.
"What?" he asked faintly, feeling helplessness wash through him yet again. What was he but a useless excuse for a wizard? He couldn't even save his wife and child.
"They used poison, Draco," Katherine said softly.
Draco's world nearly went black, the edges of it certainly greying. Only grim determination kept him from passing out, he was sure.
"Remember your promise, Hermione," she continued.
Draco frowned. "What promise," he demanded.
"Oh, God, Katherine," Granger gasped. "I can't. You don't have a surrogate here. There isn't time to get anyone."
"What are you talking about?" Draco demanded. They had to get out of here, not talk about bloody promises. "Never mind. Granger use your wand to get the dresser off of her."
Granger shook her head. "We can't."
"We have to! The deatheaters will find us before long." Draco frowned suddenly. He was surprised, actually, that they hadn't already.
"They were already here, Draco," Katherine told him. "How else could I have been poisoned?"
Feeling angry, and foolish, and helpless, Draco sighed, fighting a fresh set of tears. This cannot be happening! he denied silently.
"We can at least make her more comfortable by getting that blasted dresser off of her!" he snapped, needing to do something . . . anything to make this surreal situation better.
"That dresser is the only thing keeping her alive right now," Granger informed him impatiently.
Growling in growing frustration, Draco jumped to his feet, barely resisting the urge to pace. "How?"
"Her legs are broken about mid-thigh. If that dresser comes off, she'll bleed to death internally in a matter of only a couple minutes, and I don't have the skill to heal that kind of damage."
Draco paled, swaying on his feet. He'd almost killed his wife? Oh, Merlin!
"Hermione," Katherine gasped, "it'll be too late soon. You have to do it now."
"You found someone?" Granger asked so quietly Draco almost didn't hear the question and he once more found himself angry at not understanding what the two women were talking about as they tuned him out again. When the hell had his wife and Granger gotten so bloody close anyway?
"What is going on?" he repeated, this time through clenched teeth.
"There's only one person who can, Hermione. We were in hiding. I couldn't contact anyone in the wizarding world. You know that. You've always known, even if you didn't want to admit it."
Granger shook her head, her denial, tiny vehement movements. "I can't," she whispered.
"Please, Hermione," Katherine begged.
Draco was about to snap at his wife not to beg a mudblood for anything, when Katherine's next words dried the words in his throat.
"It's my baby's only chance."
Draco's eyes widened. "You can save them?" he asked, turning disbelieving eyes toward Granger.
Granger merely shook her head slowly. It was Katherine who replied.
"Only the baby," she said, immediately turning her attention back to Granger. "My magic won't keep the poison from the baby for long. You must hurry."
Overwhelming grief swamped Draco so quickly he was physically ill. Swallowing back the bile rising in his throat, he turned slowly to look at his wife . . . his dying wife. He didn't remember resuming his place on the floor beside her, but he reached out and took her hand, his other hand cupping her cheek. His words, however, were directed at Granger.
"If you can save the baby, Granger," he snarled, "why aren't you doing it already?" He had wanted the words to be angry and harsh; hurtful. Instead, they had come out sounding defeated and hurt.
"Convince her, Draco. She doesn't think you will want her doing it. Only you can persuade her past her fear."
Draco swallowed convulsively. How was he supposed to convince Granger to do anything? They were practically enemies.
"Ask her to do this, Draco. Do it for me?"
Draco nodded, reluctantly turning his gaze from his wife to Granger. He found her already watching him, her gaze steady, but wary. "Save my baby, G-- Hermione . . . please. I . . . can't lose them both." He couldn't believe he was asking Granger for anything with even the slightest hope of her granting the request. This was the girl he had taunted and humiliated for six years. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, however, she nodded, taking a deep breath and holding it for several seconds.
"You can't be touching her while I'm doing this, Malfoy," she said as she released her held breath, settling into position beside Katherine.
"Why not?"
"Because your magical energy will interfere with the spell and most likely kill all three of us," Hermione explained quietly.
"Do it," he said abruptly, snatching his hand away from his wife.
Hermione nodded and began an incantation Draco had never heard before. It wasn't one of the short ones they regularly learned at school. He drew in a swift breath as he realized it was ritual magic -- dark, ritual magic at that. He fought with himself to stay where he was. Katherine had wanted this, said it would save their baby, and that was the only thing that held him in place as he watched the unbelievable take place, as he watched Hermione Granger, Gryffindor extraordinaire, perform a dark magic ritual -- on his wife.
What next, he wondered, his preconceived notions of his schoolmate suddenly skewed an abrupt 90 degrees sideways, Lord Voldemort being nice to baby muggles?
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Chapter Two
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Draco held himself perfectly still, despite the fact that his legs had long since fallen asleep, despite the fact that he had absolutely no clue how long he'd been waiting and watching, and most of all, despite the fact that he had no idea if it was working. His heart pounded furiously against his ribs as he waited, knowing that his wife's life was slipping away while he sat across the room, not daring to touch her, not daring to say anything to her. He simply stared, his eyes never wavering from their target. He knew Granger had no real reason to help him. He had given her no incentive -- a fact for which he was now kicking himself heartily. He'd made no promises of, well, anything. All he had to go on was hope; hope that Hermione Granger really was too good to be true, that her supposed 'ideals' would make her save the life of an innocent, despite the fact that the innocent was, in fact, Draco Malfoy's child.
He could tell she was tiring, but that wasn't exactly surprising. Magic was draining, especially ritual magic, which tended to be drawn out affairs that took everything the caster had to offer -- and then some, sometimes.
Granger gasped suddenly, startling Draco, making him feel as though he'd just tried to jump out of his skin. A moment later she began trembling violently, her words becoming forced as they were gritted out through tightly clenched teeth, and it was all Draco could do not to leap forward and drag her away from his wife and child.
Merlin, Granger! I've never known you to muck up a spell. Please don't start now, he implored silently. His mouth desperately dry, his throat scratchy and raw, Draco had never been so tempted to beg in his entire life. Not even when his father had cast the cruciatus curse on him that one time -- 'You must know what the curse feels like to effectively wield it as a weapon, Draco.' -- had he come this close to doing so out loud.
He was relatively certain that had he not been afraid of distracting Granger at the worst possible time, he would have been doing so already. Losing one of them was going to tear him apart. It already was, truth be told, but Draco hastily shoved that to the back of his mind. Losing both of them would be unbearable. No! he told himself forcefully. If he thought about it right now, he would fall apart, and none of them could afford that. His child couldn't afford it.
Katherine was sweating now, Draco could see that from his position nearly four feet away, the salty liquid beading up across her face. Her breathing was becoming labored and raspy, as if she could barely draw air into her lungs. He physically ached to reach out, to go to her and comfort her. She had to be terrified out of her mind; he certainly was.
Instead, he forced himself to wonder what, exactly, the spell would do to protect the baby. Katherine was dying, and according to both witches, there was nothing to be done to stop it. What could she possibly do that could save the baby? Katherine wasn't nearly far enough along for it to survive without its mother.
Katherine gasped and stopped breathing, the room deadly silent, despite Granger's continued chanting, and Draco froze, unable to breathe either. He nearly moaned in relief as his wife's harsh breathing resumed. She wasn't dead. Her breath had just caught a moment.
Just when Draco was absolutely positive he couldn't take another second of the tension, movement out of the corner of his vision caught his attention, jerking his head immediately toward the source. Not now! Draco pleaded silently as he stared.
A dark figured strode into full view. Even so, it took several horrifying seconds to identify who, exactly, the newcomer was -- all of which he spent just knowing it was his father come to finish the job. Even as relief poured through him, he held up a frantic hand, palm out, and then did something he'd never done before. He begged Professor Snape not to come any closer. He didn't say a word to distract Granger from her task. He let his eyes do it. He let his posture do it.
Heart in his throat, utterly certain that Professor Snape would either stop Granger from casting the dark magic, or conversely simply kill them all. Why was he here? Who had sent him? He knew what Snape was. He couldn't have been a Malfoy and not know. He just wasn't entirely certain whether or not Snape liked him well enough to hear them out.
Draco went giddy with a flash of nearly orgasmic relief as Snape froze in the broken doorway, his expression unreadable. He wasn't going to interfere!
A breathy sigh from Granger followed by her silence had Draco's heart back in his throat and he snapped his attention back to the two witches. Granger's eyes were closed and she was breathing heavily -- gulping in huge gasps of air, more like.
Hesitating only long enough to determined that she really was finished with the spell, Draco leapt forward, or tried to. His numb legs didn't let him do anything gracefully. "Can I touch her now?" he asked quietly, a hint of desperation in his voice, his hand mere inches from his wife.
Granger nodded wearily.
"Katherine?" he whispered.
Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him. It was more in her eyes than mouth, though, as she barely moved at all. "It worked, Draco."
He swallowed heavily, tears clouding his vision. "I never doubted for a second," he replied huskily, gently caressing her cheek.
"Liar," she whispered, chuckling weakly.
With a wry twist of his lips, he shrugged his shoulders. "It's what I'm good at," he replied, completely ignoring Snape as the professor knelt beside Granger, quietly -- surprisingly enough -- conversing with her.
"Take care of you," Katherine said as Draco leaned closer to hear her faint words. At that moment silence fell, the life bleeding from her eyes and she was left staring with glassy vacancy.
His breath caught, his chest unable to move, held immobile by an invisible tightening band. A single sob broke its way past the constriction. "No!"
He snarled as Professor Snape reached out and brushed a hand over her eyes, gently closing them for the last time.
"She's gone, Draco," Snape said far more quietly than Draco had ever heard the man speak.
For long moments Draco didn't move, didn't think, didn't respond, lost in his grief over his dead wife.
"Malfoy?" Granger prodded
He winced, but slowly raised his head to glare at her. "She's dead, Granger. How is my baby supposed to live with a dead mother?"
Snape gasped -- a first in Draco's experience.
"The baby isn't inside her anymore," Granger replied evenly.
"Oh, great Circe!" Snape swore, his voice little more than a hiss.
Draco frowned, glancing down at Katherine -- no, at her body. He shuddered at the thought, then frowned in confusion. If the baby wasn't inside her any longer, where was it? Unable to think clearly at the moment, he returned his attention to Granger. "Where then?"
She didn't reply verbally, merely let her hand drift down to her own abdomen.
Ergg? His brain simply shut down. It was one shock too many; though, the comments the two had made about 'surrogates' now made far too much sense. As Draco stared, desperate to make sense of it all, his vision spiralled down to pinpricks of light and he fell to the floor in a dead faint.
x-x-x
"Well," Hermione said after several moments of awkward silence. "He took that better than I expected."
Beside her, Professor Snape snorted. "Somehow, Miss Granger," he said drily, "I don't think you've seen the worst of his reaction."
Boldly meeting his dark eyed gaze, Hermione nodded in acknowledgement. "No, I don't suppose I have." She frowned, glancing down at the friend she'd known such a short time. "It was Kat's idea. She came to me and asked if I'd be able to cast it. Not if I was willing to, just if I was able to."
"And just what," Snape hissed snidely, "made you so sure you could do it?"
Hermione, for once, completely ignored the tone of her professor's voice. She's was too tired to worry about it. "I wasn't, at first. I promised her I would study it. Two weeks passed before she brought it up again. She seemed . . . desperate at that point. I think she already knew she was going to die."
Snape didn't say anything for several moments. When he responded, he did so quietly, thoughtfully. "That is entirely possible, Miss Granger. Her family is known for producing seers of great talent."
"Oh," Hermione breathed. "I can't begin to imagine."
"Most people cannot, Miss Granger, something to be unutterably grateful for. To know, with absolute certainty, when one is going to die is not . . . normal. We are not meant to know such things."
Startled, Hermione's eyes widened. That had sounded like he was speaking from personal experience.
Professor Snape eyed her warily for several long interminable minutes before nodding once. "Yes, Miss Granger, it is experience. My mother knew. She knew years before it happened, and it colored everything she did."
Hermione shivered. She decided right then that if she ever had the chance to find out, she would turn it down. She definitely did not want to know ahead of time. "It colored what Katherine did. That's obvious, of course."
"Obvious, Miss Granger?"
Hermione nodded sadly. "Why else would she arrange for her unborn child to be ripped from her?"
"So," Professor Snape replied, his voice oddly uninflected, "you did know it was dark magic."
Breathing deeply, Hermione nodded again. "Yes, I did."
"You knowingly cast dark magic, despite the fact that if it was ever revealed, you would not only be expelled from Hogwarts, but risked a prison term as well?"
Hermione could do nothing but nod. "I couldn't not do it. She was dead already, her body just hadn't caught on yet. The poison they used has no cure, you know."
"They who, Miss Granger?" he snapped instantly.
Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "Lucius Malfoy and some of his deatheater buddies," she snapped back, suddenly angry at the whole situation and resentful of his interrogation. Where the energy had suddenly come from she didn't know, but come it did.
"What ever would make you think that?" Professor Snape demanded, at once one hundred percent powerful wizard, and deadly deatheater.
It was at that moment that Hermione realized just how quiet Lucius Malfoy had kept the whole situation.
"I don't think it, Professor," she replied quietly, firmly. "I know it."
She winced as Professor Snape's face darkened in sneering anger, and quickly outlined what she knew about what had happened -- hoping it might head off the worst of the wizard's ire. Of course, what she knew was pretty much everything. Katherine had been in great need of someone to talk to that needed no explanation of who, and what, she and her husband were running from. Over the course of the last two months, Hermione had been regaled with the tale of their flight to Scotland more than once, and knew too, just what had sent them running. Unfortunately, she knew equally as much about Draco Malfoy's sex life, which was far more than either she, or he for that matter, would ever be comfortable with -- though she didn't share that rather inappropriate information. She suspected the knowledge would never pass her lips this side of death.
By the time she'd finished explaining, including what little she knew about the attack only hours ago, Professor Snape was still visibly angry. In fact, if Hermione was to guess, she would say that her potions professor was actually livid.
He rose without response, immediately levitating the dresser off Katherine's body. As soon as it settled back onto the floor, he spoke sharply. "Wake Mr. Malfoy."
Before Hermione was halfway to her knees, Professor Snape had lifted Katherine, gently cradling her body in his arms.
"As soon as he is awake, the both of you head immediately for Hogwarts. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Sir," Hermione replied automatically, rolling her eyes. She wasn't an idiot. But whether Professor Snape liked it or not, it was going to be a slow process. She needed time to recover from both the drawn out spellcasting and the sudden changes her body had just experienced. Hermione grimaced. It had been a painful experience, one she hoped never to experience again. She had great difficulty believing that even giving birth could be any worse -- despite the stories she had heard over the years.
It wasn't until he disapparated that Hermione realized she didn't know what the professor was going to do about her first -- and hopefully last -- foray into the dark arts. She closed her eyes as tears threatened. Expelled. It was a terrifying thought. No matter, she tried to convince herself. She couldn't have let Katherine's baby die -- no matter the cost to herself. Besides, what was done was done, and she would simply have to deal with the consequences. Of course, when she'd agreed, she hadn't planned on an audience. She hadn't planned on anyone ever finding out about it.
Giving up on getting all the way to her feet, Hermione crawled toward Malfoy, mentally cringing at having to wake him. The prat was difficult to deal with at the best of times. Unfortunately, given what he'd been through, this was not going to be 'the best of times'.
"Malfoy!" she said sharply, reaching out and shaking his shoulder.
She screamed as Malfoy leapt up from the floor, grabbing her wrist painfully in his grasp. It took only a fraction of a second before understanding returned to Malfoy's eyes and his grip loosened. Sanity was a little longer returning. He stared at her, his eyes wide and disbelieving.
Shock, she pronounced silently. Not surprising.
"Malfoy?" she asked hesitantly.
"Tell me I dreamed it all," he asked, his voice hoarse. The pleading tone of his request, coming as it did from the boy who'd always epitomized arrogance, ripped through Hermione's heart.
"I'm sorry, M-- Draco, I can't do that."
His breathing hitched and quickened until his breath was coming in short, quick pants.
"Malfoy!" Hermione called sharply. He didn't respond. "Malfoy!" she shouted again.
He began shaking his head violently from side to side. "Can't . . . breathe!"
"You're hyperventilating, Draco. You have to calm down."
"Calm . . . down?!" he asked incredulously. "You . . . bloody . . . calm . . . down. I'm going . . . insane!"
Making a snap decision, Hermione sprang forward -- wincing as her pathetic attempt at moving quickly sent sharp pains zinging through her abdomen -- wrapping her erstwhile nemesis tightly in her arms. He stiffened instantly, flailing about for several seconds before collapsing against her shoulder. Thankfully, however, his breathing eased some. It wasn't long after that, that the first sob came. Hermione merely tightened her grip and slowly began rocking the blond as he let out his grief.
Can this get any more surreal? Hermione thought, incredulity ricocheting through her. I'm holding Draco Malfoy, pureblooded prat extraordinaire, and letting him cry on my shoulder!
Yes, it can, a snide voice inside her responded to her entirely rhetorical question. How could you forget? You're also carrying his child. Of course, you couldn't just do this the normal way. No, you have to go and do it with the kind of magic that'll get you expelled.
Oh, Merlin! she thought. Just how did I get myself into this mess?
xxxxxxxxxx
Chapter Three
xxxxxxxxxx
Draco stumbled as Granger released him. The gates of Hogwarts rose in front of him, and as they passed through them, he couldn't decide whether it felt more like he was entering a sanctuary, or a prison. He supposed only time would tell. As they walked, he spared a puzzled glance at his companion. She had been surprisingly silent, speaking only the bare minimum to relate Professor Snape's instructions. While Draco was beyond grateful for that fact -- listening to Hermione Granger prattle on was not something he favored -- it was, in a word, odd. And he was finding he liked that even less.
He swallowed heavily, the realization suddenly hitting him that this . . . mudblood had his child growing inside of her, his and Katherine's.
Oh Merlin! How did I get myself into this mess?
"Are you all right, Malfoy?"
Draco shook himself, suddenly realizing he had stopped moving. "I'm just dandy," he snarled. "My whole bloody world just came crashing down around my ears, but I'm just fine!"
Granger winced. "I'm sorry, Malfoy. That was a stupid question. I just meant to ask if something else had gone wrong, that's all."
"Merlin forbid, Granger!" Draco hissed. "I don't think I could take even one more thing," he continued, firmly snapping his jaw shut even as the words escaped. He hadn't intended on admitting that.
"Took you two long enough," Professor Snape accused, startling both of them, Draco's anger suddenly derailed by the professor's abrupt appearance.
"I'm sorry, Sir. We got here as quickly as we could," Granger replied.
Draco, on the other hand, remained silent, rolling his eyes. Apologies and explanations were wasted on Snape. Hadn't she learned that yet?
"I don't have time for excuses, Miss Granger. Come with me," Snape sneered, turning abruptly, stalking away.
Draco wasn't entirely certain where the professor was heading, but it wasn't the front entrance. Shrugging mentally, he followed. He didn't overly care where they were headed. All he wanted right now was the ability to close his eyes and just maybe be allowed enough time pull himself together, to be able to think clearly. He didn't have much of anything left and was running on pure bravado at the moment.
He absently noted as Granger, too, hurried to catch up to the swiftly moving professor. They hadn't made it a hundred yards when she stumbled. Draco's heart twisted in his chest, and he jumped toward her.
"Oh!" she exclaimed.
"What's wrong, Granger?" he demanded, tightly grabbing hold of her arm to steady her.
"Oh, God," she muttered, quickly raising her hand to her mouth.
Draco released her quickly, stepping behind her, out of the danger zone. He'd already had experience with this, and was not eager for a replay.
Draco's face shuddered as Granger heaved into the bushes, horror suddenly racing through him -- not at the stench that suddenly assaulted his nostrils, but at the very tangible proof at reality. Hermione Mudblood Granger was carrying his child. She would be seen by society at large as the mother of that child. Thoughts of how he could lessen the damage to his reputation swirling through his mind, Draco mentally wrestled with himself. Part of him was absurdly grateful to Granger for what she'd done, what she'd risked -- though he still didn't understand why she'd bothered to do it. Part of him, however, cursed the fact that she hadn't bothered to find someone more . . . appropriate. He was fully aware, even as he contemplated the quagmire this whole mess was, and as he longed for Katherine's calming influence, that if it wasn't for her, his baby would be dead right along side his wife.
Katherine! he thought with a small gasp, the ache of her death suddenly rising up to painfully twist his heart, and for several eternal moments, he lost himself to the overwhelming feeling. Hate for the one man responsible for his pain rose like an unbidden spectre in his mind.
My father is going to kill me! Draco groaned, for the first time meaning it literally. The only question was whether the older Malfoy would do so before or after he killed Granger and the baby. None of the nights he'd lain awake with Katherine, contemplating their future, had he ever really believed that his father would carry any of it this far. Oh, he knew what his father was, but the man was still his father. How could he do this to his son, his only son.
Draco closed his eyes against the sudden onslaught of concerns that distracted him from wallowing. He wanted to feel right now, not plan. Katherine deserved that much, at least. She deserved his full attention for more than the scant couple of hours he'd given her, before he pushed his grief to the back of his mind and started figuring out how to survive this. Unfortunately, life wouldn't allow him that luxury.
What am I going to do, Katherine? he asked silently, as he watched Granger still on her knees. Why didn't you tell me about this . . . plan, the promise you spoke of to Granger? No answers were forthcoming.
A moan from Granger had him stepping forward, holding in a weary sigh. He knelt down next to Granger. Only hesitating briefly, he lay an arm across her shoulders. "It'll pass, Granger."
"I think something went wrong," she said faintly, shuddering.
Despite everything weighing him down, and the brief spurt of panic that shot through him at her words, Draco couldn't help but chuckle. "It's just morning sickness, Granger -- perfectly normal."
"But it's not morning," Granger whined.
Draco laughed then, really laughed. He couldn't believe the sound was coming from him, but for one, all-too-quickly-gone, glorious moment, Draco didn't feel as if he were being crushed underneath the weight of his misery. "Morning sickness has no respect for rules, Granger. As far as I have been able to tell, it bloody well comes and goes as it pleases."
Granger chuckled weakly, carefully rising to her feet. "I didn't study for this exam, Professor Malfoy, may I reschedule?"
Draco's eyes widened. "Did you just make a joke, Granger?" he asked incredulously. He barely caught her as she collapsed. "What now?" he muttered, shaking his head. Draco drew in a slow, deep breath. "Granger?" he called, softly patting her cheek.
"What is taking you two so long?" Snape demanded angrily.
Draco jumped, not having heard the professor's return. Damn! I'm losing my touch. "Morning sickness," he said shortly, "then she fainted."
"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Snape snapped, immediately leaning down and lifting the unconscious Granger.
"Careful!" Draco exclaimed. "That's my baby she's carrying!"
An amused smirk quirking his mouth, Snape cocked an eyebrow at him.
"And that just sounded . . . wrong," Draco said, his mouth twisting into a grimace.
"You're telling me?" Snape retorted drily. "Wrong doesn't begin to cover this situation, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco frowned at his Professor's back as the man once again stalked away. He was the first to admit that things weren't exactly tip top at the moment, but something about Professor Snape's words didn't fit. What does he know that I don't? Draco wondered with renewed concern.
"Come on. We don't have all night," Snape hissed over his shoulder.
"Not my fault," Draco muttered rebelliously, very careful to keep his voice too quiet for the surly professor to hear. "Coming Professor," he added, this time just loud enough.
x-x-x
Draco warily stepped inside what he assumed to be Snape's personal chambers. In all his six years at Hogwarts, he had never seen the inside of them. He didn't think any student had. He just wished that he was here now under entirely different circumstances.
"Sit, Mr. Malfoy," Snape barked, nodding his head toward a chair near the ornate fireplace.
Draco silently did as he was told, watching as his potions professor lay Granger on the couch opposite Draco's chair, doing so with far more gentleness than Draco would have ever credited the volatile man. Eyes taking in every detail of this rarely -- if ever -- displayed side, Draco watched as Snape headed directly for a set of obviously locked cupboards. A few waves of the wizard's wand later, along with muttered words Draco couldn't make out, the doors clicked, and Snape quickly retrieved two vials, bringing them back over to Granger.
He was going to give her potions? "Are you sure she should be having those?" he asked, worried. Over the last two months he'd read more than he ever cared to know about how easy it was to hurt a growing 'fetus'.
Snape paused long enough to Glare at him.
Well excuse me for being concerned about my child! Draco huffed silently, glaring at the older wizard's back. Bugger this! he thought. That was his child, and he had a right to worry, and to know what was going on. Twisting up his courage, he rose and approached the two. "What are you giving her?" he asked.
"Sit down, Mr. Malfoy, while I take care of Miss Granger."
"No," snapped Draco. He'd had enough of being shoved to the side. He was going to participate in his child's care, even if it landed with him in detention . . . with Filch for the entirety of his final year at Hogwarts. "My wife is dead, Professor, killed on my father's orders!" he hissed, nearly losing his nerve under the intense glare of Professor Snape. He was suddenly reminded -- as if he needed reminded -- that this man was a deatheater, the same as his father. He swallowed convulsively, but persevered. "Our baby was ripped from her body and placed into a woman whom I intensely dislike and who, I'm sure, feels the same about me. Excuse me, or not, for demanding that I be involved!"
Ominous silence fell around them and Draco resisted the urge to shift restlessly under Snape's penetrating gaze. He nearly choked on his relief when the professor's shoulders relaxed and the wizard sighed. "Forgive me, Mr. Malfoy, you are quite correct."
Did Snape just apologize to me? Draco wondered incredulously. On the heels of that thought came, I won? He nodded, stepping closer as relief spread through him. He needed to have some kind of control right now or he really was going to go completely insane. At the moment, though, only one thought kept speeding through his mind. I won an argument with Professor Snape!
"This first one," Professor Snape began as he unstoppered the vial and tilted it so that it dripped very slowly into Granger's mouth, "is similar to pepper-up. It is designed to aid the drinker in regaining severely drained magical energy. It, unlike pepper-up, is safe to be used by pregnant women in small amounts. I'll be giving her only a quarter dose, but it should be enough to stabilize her condition and allow her to regain consciousness."
Draco watched closely as Snape encouraged the unconscious Granger to swallow the potion. The effect was nearly immediate; color returned to her alarmingly pale skin. Why didn't I noticed that before?
"This one," Snape resumed, as he continued his ministrations, "will assist with the abomination erroneously known as morning sickness."
Draco couldn't help it. The corners of his mouth quirked upward. Professor Snape's words were far too dry and sardonic to be merely academic in nature, and Draco was handed another piece of the Professor's hidden past. Some time, somewhere along the line, the professor had been exposed to someone suffering from the dreaded symptom. Draco was as sure of that as he was his own name. Draco just wondered who, and whether or not the child had been the professor's. He was not dumb enough to ask. He did wonder, however, just why the professor actually had some of it to hand. What else was it used for? He didn't ask that either.
"Unfortunately, it cannot be taken regularly enough to allow Miss Granger the pleasure of completely missing out on random sprints to the loo."
Draco smirked, remembering the sudden dashes Katherine had made numerous times, often disappearing from the room mid-sentence. A couple of times, she had gone so fast that Draco had wondered if she'd actually disapparated. A tide of sadness unexpectedly swamped Draco's senses as it fully hit him that he would never see Katherine again, ever. He would never be able to make fun of her cute little mews of distaste when she emerged from the bathroom after one of those headlong sprints. He would never be able to hold her as she fell asleep.
Oh great Merlin! She would never see their child born, never see it grow. He would never have the chance to turn to her and share with her the stupid little things most parents got all silly over -- their child rolling over for the first time, its first step, its first words.
"Draco!"
Draco blinked, his vision blurred by unshed tears. "She's dead, Professor," Draco said, as if it were news, his voice raw and aching. "Merlin's ghost, Katherine is dead!"
Faster than Draco could process the fact that his Professor had moved, he found himself enveloped in a tight hug for the second time in one day. Entirely unused to the phenomenon, Draco stiffened at first, trying to push away. As hadn't Granger, Professor Snape didn't let him go. Draco gave in, slumping within the Professor's hold. He felt it rise and gasped. Bloody hell! he thought, disconsolate. He really didn't want to do this again. His last coherent thought as the first, uncontrollable sob hit him was, Malfoy's don't cry, his father's words ringing in his ears. 'It is a weakness others will exploit.'
"Why, Professor?" Draco demanded. "Why would he do this to me?"
Snape sighed, though Draco felt it, rather than heard it. "I don't know, Mr. Malfoy," he said quietly, his hand laying gently on Draco's head. "I do not know."
**********
Chapter Four
**********
Hermione groaned as awareness returned, her world consisting solely of pain. The aches throughout her body, centering mainly in her abdomen, far surpassed any she had ever experienced before. As much focus as that stole from her, however, she was still grateful that her stomach -- for the moment, at least -- seemed far more settled. She nearly shuddered, imagining being forced to empty her stomach's nonexistent contents while she was this bloody sore. Although, before this moment, she hadn't thought it possible to more sore than she already had been.
Opening her eyes cautiously, she was surprised to see two sets of eyes staring at her. She let out a short yelp, wincing immediately after. "Sorry," she gasped as embarrassment stole through her.
Of course they're here! she silently chided herself. They were there when you passed out. What did you expect, them to leave you where you fell?
Insultingly enough, Professor Snape completely ignored her apology as he frowned at her. "Are you in pain?" he demanded.
She so wanted to sneer at the stupid question. She reconsidered before acting on the virtually suicidal thought. She started to shrug and thought better of that too. "A little more than I expected to be," she reluctantly admitted. She knew all too well just how the snarky potions professor would take that admission.
"Typical Gryffindor," Snape muttered.
And there it is! she thought with an odd mixture of righteousness and indignation.
"Jumping in before you know what you're doing."
"Shut it!" she snapped angrily, not particularly caring right at that moment in time just who it was she was snapping at. "According to the book she gave me, minimal pain was to be expected, since my body would have to stretch quickly to accommodate the fetus. Minor muscle and skin tears -- which is what took us so long, Professor, in case you're wondering," she continued hotly, glaring right back at the wizard. She wasn't going to quit now, not now that she was on a roll.
"The book actually recommended not moving for at least an hour after the spell was cast, but the circumstances wouldn't allow it. As it was, we stayed until the muggle firemen almost made it to the room we were in."
"Is the baby all right?" Malfoy demanded, stepping closer, his hand reaching out, almost as if he were going to touch her.
Hermione shifted her gaze from Professor Snape to the father of the child she now carried -- and wasn't that just a world twisting thought -- and nodded. "It should be. We can have Madam Pomfrey do an examination to be certain -- which would be a good idea even if this weren't spell induced -- but everything went exactly like it was supposed to."
Hermione shifted, valiantly trying to ignore the continuing dark stare from Professor Snape -- part of her wondering why he stayed silent -- as she tried to sit up. "Ow," she muttered, giving up on it for the moment. ""Okay, maybe quite a bit more than I expected," she admitted, slightly confused. "Either, whoever wrote that book has a vastly different view on what mild to moderate pain is than I do, or they were wrong."
"Imagine that," Professor Snape retorted drily.
She cast him another glare before shaking her head again. "There shouldn't have been enough damage from the growth spurt. At three months of development the fetus is still very--" A gasp from Malfoy cut off her confused words.
"Three months?" he asked in shock.
Hermione frowned deeply, suddenly feeling very suspicious. "Ye-es," she replied, drawing out the word slightly, mentally begging Malfoy not to tell her she was wrong. "Why?"
"Granger, Katherine was well over four months gone."
"We need Madam Pomfrey now," she said faintly, no longer daring to move. Professor Snape, however, was already at the fireplace, tossing in floo powder.
Hermione fought back a rising sense of panic, all the while kicking herself for not paying far more attention to the signals her body was sending her. God, she was a stupid bint. She just hoped her stupidity hadn't harmed the child she had only been trying to save. With the help of Katherine's lie--
Why?!
--about how far along she'd been, Hermione had severely reduced her chances of successfully carrying this child by moving so soon. If she'd known, she would not have budged from that motel room floor for at least three hours -- for anything short of the threat of immediate death or capture. No, actually she'd have still left; they had stayed as long as they could. At the very least, though, she would have sat on her arse outside the gates of Hogwarts and waited for someone to come get her. Well, maybe she'd have waited just inside the gates, but she sure as hell wouldn't have tried to hike from the gates up to the school.
Why did Katherine lie? Hermione couldn't figure it out. It made absolutely no sense to her. The spell was readily usable up until nearly 21 weeks gestation -- though, as the fetus grew, so grew the pain and the risk to both infant and host. It could even be used later than that -- if you didn't overly care about the outcome. It really wasn't recommended, however.
Malfoy knelt next to her, his expression as near to panic as she felt. "This makes a big difference, doesn't it?" he whispered.
Hermione nodded. "Yes, it does," she replied, quietly explaining what she would have done differently, had she only known.
Professor Snape interrupted their quiet conversation. "Madam Pomfrey is on her way down," he said shortly, glaring briefly at Hermione before turning toward Malfoy. "I'm assuming you do not want your child delivered in Azkaban, Mr. Malfoy, so listen very carefully. Madam Pomfrey does not know about the circumstances surrounding this pregnancy. It is not necessary that she know. The damage is not from the spell itself, but rather a secondary physical side effect, which she can heal in complete ignorance."
"But--"
"Shut up, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape snapped impatiently. "We don't have the time for arguments." He paused and sneered. "Unless you wish to see Miss Granger go to prison for saving the life of your child?"
Malfoy shook his head fervently . . . much to Hermione's relief.
Snape turned immediately toward her. "As far as Madam Pomfrey is concerned you got hurt in a deatheater attack." He snorted. "It's close enough to the truth that even you should be able to be believable."
Hermione frowned again, fighting a huff. That would hurt -- and, unfortunately, wouldn't affect the professor one way or the other.
"And should she ask," he continued, turning back toward Malfoy, his sneer turning into a rather suspicious smirk, "this child was conceived the . . . normal . . . way."
Hermione gaped. That would mean that-- Her mind stalled and she stole a look at Malfoy. She almost laughed. He looked just about as gobsmacked as she felt.
It's a good look for him, she thought, a bit of the old vindictiveness showing through.
But then she had a sudden, horrid thought and her eyes flew to Malfoy's. "What if she asks who the father is?" she asked.
Her gaze never wavering from Malfoy's, Hermione never-the-less noticed as Snape's smirk grew. He made no reply to her question; instead, he turned and looked questioningly at Malfoy, his head cocking slightly to the side as he waited. He was really enjoying this; she could tell. Prat!
For his part, Malfoy swallowed visibly. "I need to sit down," he whispered hoarsely, seemingly collapsing into the chair behind him.
"Come now, Mr. Malfoy, we need an answer."
They both ignored him -- well, aside from renewed glares.
Hermione could almost feel sorry for him . . . almost. In order to be part of this, to publicly acknowledge his child, the only remaining part of the woman he had so obviously loved, he would have to eat a rather substantial amount of crow.
Not to mention the danger we'll be in, she thought fearfully, suddenly wondering whether it might not be better to let the world think what it wanted about how one Hermione Granger managed to . . . 'get herself pregnant'.
"I think it might be better--" Hermione began at the same moment Malfoy started to speak.
"I want--"
They both broke off, neither particularly noticing when their professor rolled his eyes. "Quickly now," he snapped sharply. "You do not have time for lengthy debates. Madam Pomfrey will be here in seconds."
Malfoy took a deep breath. "I need to be part of this, Granger," he said evenly, staring at her intently, "but you have to realize that Father isn't going to take this as well as he took Katherine."
Hermione laughed, the strangled sound cut off as soon as she was able. "Isn't that kind of like saying the sky is blue, Malfoy?"
Malfoy snorted, one corner of his mouth twitching up. His expression immediately returned to serious, however. "Point," he replied, his voice quiet. "It would be safer. . . ." his voice trailed off.
"If I cut you out of the picture . . . for now," Hermione finished flatly.
He nodded morosely.
She considered it. It would certainly be safer, for both her and the child. Looking at Malfoy's dejected face, however, she couldn't do it to him. They would face what the future brought. She owed it to the friend she'd made and lost. Surely they would be safe here at Hogwarts, after all.
"I choose the danger," she said softly, blatantly stealing the line from one of her favorite movies. Delighting in the first genuine smile she had ever seen Draco Malfoy display, she could even ignore the muttered, "bloody Gryffindors," from Professor Snape as he rose to answer his door.
Madam Pomfrey bustled in, not visibly caring that she pushed past Professor Snape without so much as a by your leave, nor that she brushed aside Malfoy as she hurried to Hermione's side.
The older witch tutted softly, shaking her head as she immediately set to work, the first spell she cast identical to the one Hermione had first cast on Kat.
Hermione's eyes misted over. In the quiet of Madam Pomfrey working over her, she was finally feeling the loss of the friend she'd known for such a short time. She would have really liked getting to know her better. For one thing, she really wanted to know what in the wizarding world, that girl saw in Malfoy of all people.
"Dear child!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed moments later, interrupting Hermione's thoughts. "Whatever happened to you?" she questioned with a terse frown, though, she didn't wait for a reply before beginning her magical treatment of Hermione's injuries.
Hermione felt it best to simply treat the question as rhetorical, as she didn't want to interrupt the woman's work. Her fear rose swiftly, however, as Madam Pomfrey uttered spell after spell -- many of which she'd never heard of before -- the slight frown never leaving her face. In fact, Hermione began to wonder if the child wouldn't be lost after all, and was surprised to discover that she cared very much about that. She wanted the child within her to live.
Questions and demands ready to roll off her tongue, Hermione nearly had to bite down on her tongue to keep them all inside. It simply wasn't in her nature to hold back her curiosity -- potions class not withstanding -- and now that something vital was at stake, her need to know was nearly overwhelming her in its intensity.
She managed to hold her peace, however, nervously chewing on her lower lip as she stole more than one fearful glance at Malfoy. Surprising her, he not only noticed, but stepped toward her again, swiftly rounding the sofa by touch -- his eyes never leaving Madam Pomfrey's hands as she worked. More surprising was the fact that he reached out to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. She tried to smile encouragingly at him, she really did. Unfortunately, it was a wan attempt at best. She really did have confidence in Madam Pomfrey's skills. The problem was, she couldn't seem to work past her own feelings to feel it.
Finally, Madam Pomfrey leaned back, her wand going still and her frown easing slightly. That alone sent relief flooding through Hermione, though, she remained tense until the medi-witch spoke.
"Well, then, " she began, her tone laced with pride, "that's better." She took the time to note the individuals in the room before returning her gaze to Hermione. "You," she continued sternly, "are going to have to be a lot more careful, young lady, if you care about the child inside you at all. Whatever were you doing that caused that kind of damage?"
"Deatheater attack," Hermione muttered, not daring to meet the medi-witches eyes. She'd never been a good liar, and while Professor Snape was correct that her current -- and former -- condition could be obliquely attributed to the actions of at least one specific deatheater, it was far enough from the whole truth that Hermione well knew her eyes would give her away. They always did.
A gasp from the medi-witch, however, had her jerking her head up in surprise. She realized her mistake too late, but fortunately, Madam Pomfrey appeared too horrified to closely examine Hermione for the tell-tale traces of having lied. In fact, the older woman was not even looking at her, instead, she was glancing between Malfoy and Professor Snape -- as if to verify whatever images Hermione's words had conjured.
Hermione felt the beginnings of outrage at the implied insult. Never mind the fact that she actually had lied; that was entirely beside the point. Malfoy's response to Pomfrey's questioning glance, however, surprised her out of it. Damn, he's good! she thought, reluctantly impressed. Of course, for him it's much closer to the truth, she hedged silently.
Pomfrey's glance to Professor Snape elicited only a nod in confirmation.
"Well," Pomfrey exclaimed into the oppressive silence, "that certainly explains a great deal." With that, her gaze returned to Hermione, who struggled not to drop her gaze in shame. That would be a dead giveaway that there was something she was hiding. She really didn't like lying to an authority figure.
"Hermione Granger," Pomfrey continued, "I know you've been through a great deal, but you have a child to think about now. You simply must concentrate on remaining relaxed."
Hermione nodded. She was already relatively relaxed. If the medi-witch wasn't ordering potions or transfer to the infirmary, then she had no reason to worry -- at least not immediately.
"I've done what I can," Pomfrey continued smoothly, her words having quite the opposite effect of soothing.
Hermione began to panic. Done what you can?! she thought frantically. What the hell does that mean?
"Now the rest is up to you. You must remain as immobile as you can for the next 24 to 48 hours, Miss Granger. Your body has done what it can to protect your baby, but as effective as that was, there is still extreme danger of the trauma you suffered causing a spontaneous abortion."
Again, Hermione nodded, not knowing what else to do. She certainly wasn't going to argue with the witch. "Will th- my baby be all right?" she asked, wincing slightly as Malfoy's hand clenched on her shoulder. She'd forgotten it was even there, that he was there.
Pomfrey nodded. "There shouldn't be any further problems from this incident as long as you follow my instructions," she explained.
"Oh, I will!" Hermione quickly assured.
"By immobile, I mean as completely still as humanly possible, Miss Granger," she warned. "You will not leave this couch at all for the next three hours, young lady. After that, when you need to use the facilities, you will be carried there. You will not go to the library at all," she continued a knowing gleam in her eyes. "You will sleep right here and you will eat right here."
Hermione's eyes widened; she hadn't realized the situation was quite that serious.
"If you care one whit about that child," Pomfrey added, seemly noticing Hermione's shock, "you will not try to do anything that requires more movement than rolling over by yourself. And you shouldn't even do that for three hours."
"I'll make sure of it," Malfoy announced firmly, shocking them all -- including Professor Snape, Hermione realized.
