“What?” Hermione looked at her mother in disbelief. They were playing a sick joke on her. That was the only reasonable answer. Hermione looked at all of them as if they were mad. She couldn’t be pregnant. It was true that the night before Ron’s last mission the ticking sound of seconds had been filled with passion, but she took the contraceptive potion she had prepared a day or so before. Hadn’t she?


 

And yet when the Port Key threw three Weasleys and one Malfoy across the cold, wet hill, Malfoy Manor was the first solid object Rose Weasley cast her eyes upon and even though it was the first time in her short life she glanced upon such a grand building, she knew it was bound to be tied to her life for a long, long time.
 
 

“I am clean and fresh,” she started as she reached the far end of the wall. She pushed against it and started sliding in the other direction, back towards Abraxas, “You cannot do me any harm,” she chanted as she nearly bumped into the small library, before starting to slide in the other direction yet again, “I swear so upon the youth of my freckled flesh!”

“Miss Granger,” he acknowledge and it was time for Hermione’s flesh to become paler. She immediately started feeling her face and looking at her arms. “The appearance-alteration charms are still in place, don’t worry. The servant, eh?”
 

“Good evening,” said Blackwell in a calm and cold voice. Not many people responded. Wilson senior nodded in salute, as did Lucius to keep his spy game going. Draco’s eyebrows were so tensed that they threatened to fly off his face. “I hope we’re not interrupting anything important,” continued Dominus.

“I’m sorry,” she said barely above a whisper, her brown eyes finally looking at him.  He said nothing for a moment, not because he was tongue-tied, but because he really did not know what to say. Sometimes the internal battles she fought with herself were out of his reach. He could not always help her, despite the fact that he wanted to be her saviour. If he succeeded being that for her, he saved himself as well. “Draco...I drank...I promised I wouldn’t...”
 

And soon she fell asleep, but only half so. She was still aware of her surroundings, still aware of the couch on which she was sleeping and still aware of the rather startling feeling of being watched. Her eyes popped open and she abruptly sat up. She wondered for how long she had been asleep, for the chimney fire was dimmed and the room seemed much colder and more unfamiliar. There was no one around, but Rose still felt the little hairs on her arms standing up alerted and she cursed herself for leaving her wand on the nightstand.
 

"Why would you care?"

"Because I happen to be your..."

"Girlfriend?" he interrupted, placing a sort of distorted emphasis on girlfriend. "Keep telling yourself that."

 It was only rationality, hanging by the thin thread of uncompromising reality that stopped Rose from running back to Hogsmade to find the little girl whose identity she was fairly certain matched that of her long lost cousin.

“I will,” she said slowly. “Rose listen to me,” started Hermione as she made Rose look at her. The latter’s face was red and blotchy. “You will not be all alone. I know it doesn’t seem like it but you have Draco. He promised to take care of you and Hugo until you can take care of yourself. You can always turn to Malfoy Manor, promise me you’ll always remember this. You can’t let your pride come in the way. Do you understand?” Rose nodded angrily. “I hate Malfoy Manor!” she cried.
 

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m here because…” started Rose, but was soon interrupted by Snape’s icy voice. “I know why you are here. Your brat of a brother burst in earlier this morning and told me about your situation.”
 
“Hugo told you about my situation?”
 
“You are very perceptive, Weasley,” said Snape sarcastically. “As it is, I may be able to
help you.”

 She seemed, in that moment, unbearably small and vulnerable to him, her read hair caged by the blonde of his family, for apart from her and Hugo, there were only Malfoys present at the funeral. 

 “Let’s go,” whispered Scorpius after Jugson and Carrow passed their spot at the table. One by one and with heads bowed down they made their way towards the Room of Requirement, their customary meeting place. The wall opened and closed for them like always before, not questioning their needs, but protecting them from other walls of Hogwarts, walls that had both ears and eyes. Once inside they all let out an involuntary sigh of relief.