A/N:
Muggles,
It's been some time. As I am sure the wellbeing of me and mine is your foremost concern, let me assure you we are as well as we can be, living with a muggle of such stubborn character and tendency to perverse defiance as Madea.
Our darling Countess Black is wonderful, as always. We spend as much time in her charming company as we can.
There are many thanks to be rendered this chapter:
--The starred portion is lifted verbatim from an old wizarding book which Madea insists (stubborn, see?) was written by some muggle called Donne.
--The Book which is discovered is a reference to something called 'Warhammer 40K'.
-Trixie's clue is from 'Ecclesiastes' whatever that is.
All the way back in chapter four of 'Favor me with Silence', Madea borrowed something from a muggle (Richardson ?--I didn't bother to pay attention). She is very sorry, and I scolded her quite sternly about her liberal thefts, which she insists are mere homages. I think her fingers as sticky as a hinkeypunk's, and watch her carefully around the family silver.
Yours,
Lucius Malfoy
Hermione let her eyes drift shut as Leesy poured a ewer of water over her shoulders and back, making sure that every inch of skin was covered. One of the nicest things about her condition, she thought, was that her otherwise pleasant baths no longer ended with a dousing in cold water.
"It's being bad for the baby' said Tibby, frowning slightly. 'It's being better to use the herbs to protect young Madam from illness." And so twice a day, Hermione spent a hour floating in a tub of warm, but not hot, water, as the elves made sure she was well covered in the infusion of herbs that was supposed to protect her against miasmas and illness.
"Hermione? Darling, don't go to sleep." Draco lightly, absently touched her belly as he talked. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, feeling the exhaustion pulling her down as she did, making herself sit up and stretch.
"I've just woke up and I'm tired again. If Crookshanks were here, you'd not be able to tell us apart."
Draco stroked her damp hair. "Hush. You're doing just what you're supposed to. Everyone is too pleased with how well you've been resting.' He smiled devilishly 'I remember a little girl who used to throw awful fits about taking her nap. Did you know her?"
"If I did, I don't anymore." She snuggled into his shoulder and stifled another yawn. Draco frowned slightly and stroked her back. "When we get back, you're lying down. You look awfully pale to me."
"Nap with me?"
"Of course. Now,what shall we call the baby?"
"I haven't thought about it. What would you like to call it?"
"If it's a boy, I think we should call it Scorpius."
Hermione looked at her husband in consernation. "Scorpius?"
"Scorpius Black was quite a famous medi-wizard in his day. And has rather a nice sound, I thought."
"No, Draco. No Scorpius."
"What would you have?"
"For a boy? Hugo is nice."
"Hugo? Hugo?"
"Victor Hugo was a great author. And it's better than Scorpius."
"Bollocks. What about a girl, then?"
"You first."
"Aethelthryth. It means 'noble threat'."
Hermione stared at Draco without speaking for a long time. "No. A million times, no."
"How about Cyneburga, then?"
"That's better. Slightly."
"What's your choice, then?"
"Rose."
Draco snorted. "Not a bit muggle, that. Choose something with a bit of history, would you?"
Hermione said, very calmly "Draco, that was my Nan's name."
"Ah. Well. Shouldn't we be getting out, love? The appointment's for three o'clock sharp."
Hermione stood and let Leesy drape her in towels, drying her hair and skin. Her stomach, once flat, was developing a gentle curve, round and soft, and she found herself grateful for loose, flowing wizarding clothes.
Draco grinned and lightly kissed each breast. "Are they sore again?"
"Always. At least my nausea is better. For the moment."
Draco picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, setting her on the bed. Tibby darted over, holding Hermione's slip and drawers. "Hurry, young Madam, Tibby is not wanting young Madam to be catching a chill."
Hermione obediently let herself be helped into her clothes, along with a soft linen dress and robe in sea green. "We've a few moments, Draco. Shall we have some pumpkin juice?"
"Juice for me, hot milk for you. Three mugs a day, remember?"
Hermione grimaced and shook her head. "Not when we're getting ready to leave. It's too rich, I'll be sick again."
Hermione spent a goodly portion of her day wondering why anyone would bother calling it 'morning sickness' when it had become painfully clear that it wasn't. To make matters worse, she couldn't take anything; because Bellatrix refused to divulge the spell, even a simply stomach settling potion might do some sort of irreparable harm.
Not that the actions of the family, as well meant as they were, helped even slightly. Lirry had promptly begun cooking special meals, said to strengthen the mother and child, the practical result of which were large platters of food piled with meat tarts in heavy cream sauce, mince pies and jellied fruit. And the giant, sweet mugs of chimera's milk, infused with ginger to stem morning sickness and violets to stave off melancholy.
"I feel like a fois gras duck' she finally whispered to Narcissa one evening, who'd laughed and told her she was excused from cleaning her plate unless she felt up to it. Which would have been fine, had the elves not howled protests when Hermione didn't eat every bite. Young Madam would starve! She'd faint!
Hermione held her ground. Aside from that, and the baths in herbs, day to day her life had changed little. Except the tiredness and vomiting, of course. And the fact that even the lightest touch made her nipples feel like they'd been pinched in a vise; and the behaviour of the family, which made 'mother hen' seem neglectful.
Lucius poked his head in the door, which Leesy had opened. "Children, are you ready?"
"Almost, Father. Hermione, love, are you sure you wouldn't like a little milk?"
"Positive." She heaved herself to her feet, stomach jerking, and walked toward the door. Lucius cocked his head and studied her a moment. "My dear, you've a little bulge."
"I know."
"I think it's wonderful." Draco beamed at his father and Lucius smiled back, remembering the enormous pride he'd felt when Narcissa was expecting Draco. "So do I, love. Are you feeling up to walking to the carriage,or shall Draco carry you?"
"A carriage?"
"Of course. Women in your state mustn't Floo, it's too taxing."
"I can walk, Father. Really, I'm very well today."
"Aunt is still declining to go?"
"She has to go to the Ministry, something about her daughter's estate. She'll be back later today."
The three made their way slowly toward the front door. In the atrium, Narcissa was entertaining the Goyles. Greg beamed the second he saw them, walking to shake Draco's hand and pull Hermione into a gentle embrace.
Antigone was frowning. "Why do you look so pale?"
"Told you' mouthed Draco, as Hermione submitted to one of the woman's stiff hugs. "I'm fine, Antigone. Just a little tired, I suppose."
Galten looked at his watch. "Ready?"
The men helped the ladies in and Galten climbed onto the seat and clicked. Hermione wondered how many of the people within could see the thestrals that pulled it, a loan from Hagrid.
Narcissa took her hand and squeezed as the carriage lurched violently as it rose into the air, making her stomach wrench. "We haven't used the carriage in ages. It's been in the Malfoy family for four hundred years…" Hermione was grateful for the prattle Narcissa was using to distract the gentlemen from her green face.
Landing in a disused carriage spot in Diagon Alley, the group made their way to St. Mungo's. One of the benefits of status, thought Draco, was that one rarely waits. The gentlemen bid the ladies farewell and went to sit in the waiting room.
Ensconced in a private room, the three women faced one another. "Darling, do you need a basin?"
Hermione nodded and barely made it in time. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. Finished?"
Antigone conjured a cup and gave Hermione some water to rinse her mouth with, along with a sliver of crystallized ginger to cover the taste of bile.
The medi-witch bustled in, briskly taking pulses and asking the usual questions about humour balance and so on. Hermione answered them, fielding the occasional interjection from Narcissa.
"Well, Madam Malfoy, I do wish you were gaining weight faster, but everything seems normal enough. Any progress on discovering the spells you were hit with?"
"None."
"We'll give the fatigue and nausea until your next appointment to improve, and then if it isn't better, we'll simply have to risk putting you on something."
"Couldn't potions mask the symptoms of whatever this is?"
"Yes, but I don't want you dehydrating. Would you like to hear the heartbeat?"
The medi-witch aimed her wand at Hermione's stomach and flicked gently. The room filled with a low, steady thumping. Hermione clutched her stomach and sat still, feeling for the first time that there was a tiny person inside her, a tiny person that she and Draco had made through their love for one another.
"Could we send for my husband?"
Draco poked his head in. "Darling, what…oh. Oh, my." He grinned broadly. "Mother, it's…."
Hermione went to stand and discovered with surprise and a clinical detachment that she her legs wouldn't stand. Knees buckling, she collapsed without a word.
Bellatrix Lestrange was dozing on the bed when the door flew open and her nephew stormed in, flanked by Severus Snape and a two tall, thickly built men that had to be brothers, and followed by Lucius Malfoy, who looked angrier than she'd seen in a long time.
"If—you—don't—tell—me—right—now—what—you've—done—I—will—bloody—well—kill—you."
Bellatrix giggled. "What's wrong? Is nephew's ickle wifey feeling sick?"
Galten stopped Draco's wand hand just in time. Snape stepped up and smiled. "We tried veritaserum and it didn't work, so I thought we'd try something experiemental."
He produced a phial of some deep purple liquid and nodded at the other men, who stepped forward. The older one sat and dragged Bellatrix, struggling, onto his lap, locking her against him, while the younger seized her jaw in one hand and her nose in the other, cutting off her air.
The second her mouth opened, Snape dumped the phial's contents down Bellatrix's throat, clamping a hand to keep her from spitting and gently massaging her neck to compel her to swallow.
Snape swished his wand and Bellatrix went rigid, petrified. "All right, Draco, bring them in."
Draco entered, levitating something behind him. "Oh, here, I remember here. Shall I sing a song? I know a good rendition of 'Sumer is acuming in'."
"It's quite dingy in here. Lucius, why have you moved me? I wish to be brought back. And why are strangers looking at me? I mislike strangers. Where is that elf? I don't want it anywhere near me, you know I can't abide elves…
"Now, Io, let's be cheerful. Sing a round with me. 'Sumer is acuming in', tra la la."
"Do shut up, Tertullius."
"What have you given her?"
"A stimulant, to prevent her falling asleep. I'd say two hours ought to do."
"Io, Bellatrix is quite agreed that everyone is simply awful to you all time, and is awell with sympathy. And perhaps once Io is done, Tertullius, perhaps you'd recite the Trollish epic of Jtjsocmjdjr?"
"Delighted to, dear boys. Ladies first, Io."
"About time. Now, I had an older sister and my parents always favoured her by…"
Draco gathered some of Hermione's things and they left.
When Hermione woke, concerned faces hovered over hers. She smiled groggily and reached for Draco's face gently. "Draco?"
"Hermione, love, how do you feel?"
"Thirsty. All right, otherwise." She tried to sit and half a dozen hands gently pressed her down at once. The healer cleared her throat and they turned to look at her.
"Madam Malfoy, we've run some tests. Your heart beat was somewhat higher than usual, but other than that you seem to be fine. We've decided to keep you overnight for observation."
"And we'll be right here, love, never fret. Could she have something to drink?"
The healer, who'd made a single token attempt to get at least a few of the people clogging the room to leave and been threatened by numerous forms of half veiled violence, nodded tiredly and decided to find some poor gullible apprentice and stick him or her with these Death Eating control freaks.
As Hermione sipped at the door, there came a slightly awkward knock. Harry Potter, looking slightly less rumpled than usual, poked his head in, followed by Ron Weasley.
"Hermione?"
"Harry! How nice to see you." She didn't try to get up this time, but she did smile and stretch out a hand. "Ron. It's so sweet you came."
"Course we did. Here, Mum sent you some flowers." He held out some rather mangy looking tea roses, which Antigone Goyle took expressionlessly and went to find a vase for.
"What happened?"
"We aren't sure. It's probably nothing." She smiled again and felt how truly, deeply, bone tired she really was. Narcissa pulled her covers up as the girl spoke again. "I'm sorry to be such a bad hostess, truly. I know we were to have tea today."
" 'S'all right. We just want you to feel better."
The other two were nodding. Draco stood and caught Potter's eye. " Hermione's thirsty. Perhaps you'd help me scare up some pumpkin juice Potter, Weasley?"
The two quietly followed him from the room. As soon as they were out of earshot, Draco turned and swallowed hard. "It's Bellatrix. She hit her with some kind of spell. We're trying to figure out what, but Snape's found nothing."
"Anything we can do?"
Harry and Ron both noticed that Malfoy's—Draco's—fists were clenching and unclenching violently. "I know Grimmauld Place has a large library, Potter. Would you ask Kreacher to look for anything hidden? One doesn't leave books as Dark as this one must have been out in the open."
Harry nodded. "Weasley, would you ask your father to look in the archives for precedent? Or let one of us do it? Maybe if it's happened before…"
Ron made himself shove down his dislike of the blond prat. "I'll see what Dad can do. Do you, ah, need anything?"
"Well, if you've any expertise in Dark Arts which you've been hiding, now might be a good time to mention it. God damn it, we'd just heard the heart beat!" He buried his face in his hands for a second, breathing hard, and both of his old enemies stared at one another, unsure of how to proceed.
"Malfoy…Draco…stay calm. If you get upset, so will she. Hermione's like that."
Draco pushed his hair back into place. "Quite right, and the word you were groping for is 'empathetic'. Would you like to come with me for pumpkin juice?"
They both nodded, and Harry even had the foresight to stop and buy a few fashion magazines, for Ginny and Hermione both. Harry thought Draco seemed calmer on the way back, as though mastery over something, anything, restored his internal equilibrium.
Hermione had been carefully propped up on pillows, reassuring Andromeda that she was fine. She beamed as the three reentered the room. "You're all so sweet. And magazines! Something for us to look at."
She kissed her two best friends on the cheek, promised the next time they met would be more fun, and settled back with the former Black sisters to critique the next season's robes and hats.
Within a few minutes, Hermione's eyes were sliding closed. "Oh, I hate this."
Draco took her hand in his and asked, very quietly, if he and Hermione could have a moment. Lucius agreed that was a good idea and announced everyone would be getting supper at the Leaky Caldron.
As the sounds of footsteps faded, Draco dropped his head on his wife's shoulder. "This is my fault."
"No, it isn't."
"If I hadn't taken the Mark…"
"You'd be dead. Draco, please, don't be sad. We heard our baby's heart today."
He nodded and pressed her stomach gently. "It feels real now, doesn't it?"
"It does. Do you think it hears us?"
"Of course he does. I've brought something, actually. For the baby."
He reached into the bag he'd brought from home and brought out a battered children's book. "This was a favourite of mine, when I was a child. Father used to read me this one before bed every night."
"And now good morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear,
For love, all love of other sights control,
And makes one little room an every where
Let sea discoverers to new worlds have gone
Let maps to others, worlds in worlds have shown
Let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one."*
Hermione smiled. "That was beautiful. Nap with me?"
Draco plumped Hermione's pillow. "For a little while. I have to go and get a few things more from the house—clean clothes and such—but I'll be back tonight, and we'll share your bed." Hermione sighed as he began to rub her scalp. She felt good. Her eyes slid shut and she relaxed, lulled by his fingers in her hair.
As soon as the others were back, Draco nodded to his father and they rose, along with the Goyles. Leaving their women, the men Apparated back and made their way to the tower.
Snape was waiting for them. "Io is still talking. She's a cheerful soul, isn't she?"
"Like an attack of Ischuria. Ready?"
Snape grinned malevolently. "I was born ready, Godson."
They opened the door and Snape unpetrified Bellatrix, who sat up, eyes blazing, and spun on the portrait of Great great great Aunt Io. "SHUT UP! IT WAS CENTURIES AGO! THIS IS WHY NO ONE VISITS YOU!"
In the deafening silence that followed, Tertullius looked interested. "It's my turn. 'SnERK! HofSKfoj! HGEMJHfhRUEMK!" He began a laboured grunting that was either Trollish or some sort of lower intestinal distress.
Io had begun to cry. Tertullius, stopping with his…song…said kindly "Now Io, I love to hear your stories. Do tell me another."
'He really is mad.' Draco and Lucius were apparently having the same thought, because they shared a long look and then turned to Bellatrix.
"Ready to talk?"
"I hope you die."
Draco pressed forward. He was smiling. "That's funny, Aunt Trixie. Really a scream, because, so help me, if something should happen to Hermione---or the baby—if one of them should die---I'll kill you with my bare hands. Now, what did you do to her?"
Bellatrix suddenly began to rock back and forth, hands over her ears. "La la la la la la."
Greg snapped. Leaning forward, he picked the woman up and shook her like a rag doll, hard enough her teeth rattled in her head. "You SHUT UP and listen or I'll kill you myself."
Dropping her in a heap on the bed, Greg backed away. "Sorry, Mr. Malfoy, Draco. She was being a right cow about this."
"Quite all right, Gregory.' Lucius turned and gave his sister in law a terrible look. "Well, Trixie?"
" 'All that which is in light shall be proclaimed in Darkness.'"
They turned to go. Galten stayed in place a moment. "Why don't you just tell us?"
"What fun would that be?"
Owls flew from the owlery to every corner of Britain and beyond. Severus Snape quietly took his leave and Flooed to Hogwarts, where Minerva McGonagall looked at the bandage at his neck and said nothing.
He took half a dozen books from the library, a few more from his private quarters and Flooed back. By the time the ladies had returned, they'd been at it almost eight hours.
At midday, a knock on the study door made both men, dozing, sit up straight. "May we come in?"
Lucius and Snape stood when Hermione, pale but quite lively looking, came in, followed by Draco. "Father, Hermione and I have been talking."
"Oh? This is supposed to be a revelation?"
"No. I've told her about what Bella said, and she wants to help. I'm inclined to agree."
They both stared. "What? No, absolutely not. Get back in bed this instant, Hermione. Draco, I'm ashamed you let it get even this far."
"Listen, please. I have the skills for research, and I'll go insane if I have to spend any more time lying about with nothing to do."
"Love, what about the baby?"
"I could take the books upstairs with me. You both look exhausted."
"Draco?"
Draco sighed hugely. "I trust Hermione's judgment, Father. And I'd stay with her the whole time to see that she didn't overdo it."
Lucius could feel himself being convinced, quite against his will. "How is it, Hermione, you always manage to persuade me?"
She blushed slightly but stood taller. "Draco gave me lessons, I suppose one could say."
Lucius fixed his only child with a jaundiced eye. "Hmm, so you're to blame. Remind me to disinherit you after dinner."
Draco laughed. "I learnt it from Mother. Blame her."
"I certainly do. Minky, fetch Madam and tell her the children have conceived another daft idea."
Narcissa came down a moment later, looking flustered. "Hermione, why are you out of bed?"
"Draco, tell Mother what you just told me."
He did. "Darlings, you both know that's a bad idea. Hermione is awfully fragile, now especially, and the best thing is rest and calm. Why don't we have some milk sent up, hmm?"
Hermione shook her head. "I'm going to go insane if I can't do something useful."
Snape found an unaccustomed spark of mercy in his chest. "Narcissa, Hermione is correct. She gets restive if she isn't kept occupied, and Draco would be there. If you're so worried, why not find a suitable chaperon?"
"Severus, are you volunteering?"
Resigned, Snape just nodded. "I suppose." Having sent an owl to explain the situation to Andromeda, who was still battling red tape over Tonks and Remus' estate, the group moved into the bedroom, with Hermione settling on the bed and Draco beside her and the others on chairs. Quills and traveling desks were produced and the group began to comb the books.
The confluence of extremely intelligent people, driven by extreme need, and working in extreme danger, produces some odd bedfellows. When Andromeda returned with Kingsley Shacklebolt and an armful of books courtesy of Harry Potter, no one said anything.
Hour after hour, the silent search continued, until Narcissa finally bullied Lucius and Draco having showers and naps. "After one of them wakes, Severus, we'll find clean things for you as well."
Knowing better than to argue, Snape merely nodded and went back to looking. He had to admit, the Granger girl had a sort of awkward charm. He'd never expected to see her face down both older Malfoys and win, let alone somehow convince him to plead her case. He was going soft in his dotage.
"Miss Gr—Madam Ma—Hermione, I wish to have a break to check your pulse." She put the book down and he had an elf fetch his bag. As soon as he touched her wrist, his heart clenched. Her pulse was fluttery. Not terribly, but faster than he might have liked.
"How do you feel?"
"Well. Thirsty, but otherwise fine."
He called for water and a snack to be brought. "Have you found anything interesting?"
"Not much. I wish my Latin were better. Dad taught me some, but I need to brush up."
He nodded and went back to his reading just as the door opened and both Malfoy men walked in, looking loads better. "Severus, my wife has found you some clothing. I suggest you shower or she'll send elves in to harass you until you do."
Snape stood and stretched, thinking his bandages needed changing anyway. As he started to leave, a 'pop!' was heard, and he turned to see Black's disgusting old house elf, looking like a demented Father Christmas,
"We is remembering we is hiding these!" It crooned, veritably dancing with glee. Hermione beamed and took them from the thing's withered hands. "Thank you, Kreacher. And thank Harry too, won't you?"
Kreacher bowed and disApparated with a flourish. "There goes the maddest house elf there ever was."
"Now, Draco, he's sweet once you get to know him."
"Yes, like beetleroot is sweet until you swallow it and your spleen comes gushing out your nose."
Snape examined the offerings. "This might be something."
Shacklebolt snorted. "Well said, Draco. May I see the green one, if you're finished?"
After Snape returned, they ate a supper of cold meats and cheese and went back to searching, with Narcissa joining them.
They searched ever onwards. Draco was the first to drift off; he'd been awake the whole night and most of the day. Lucius followed, and then Narcissa, with her head on Andromeda's shoulder, and then Andromeda on Kingsley's, until only he, Hermione and Snape were left.
Out of consideration to the sleepers, the candles were snuffed, until only a single taper lit the room. Snape did it accidently; he'd had even less sleep than the Malfoys. Hand trembling, when he reached for his ink well, his hand knocked the candle, plunging the room into darkness.
Hermione felt her scalp prickle as the book she'd picked up suddenly—squirmed. It felt almost alive under her fingertips, hot and wrong. It had begun to give off a faint glow, and the taste of cold iron filled her mouth. Under her hands, something thick and hot had begun to seep from pages.
Snape gasped with pain and the male Malfoys woke, grabbing their arms. The windows shook in their casings, and Hermione suddenly felt as though the world were closing in, as though the darkness were alive and pulsing. She smelt that cold, cold iron and—
The world returned as an elf lit the taper and set it back on the table. The three former Death Eaters sat shaking violently from the pain. Hermione immediately put her hand out to Draco and gasped when he flinched and started to cry.
Shacklebolt pulled the book from her hands. In the light it was unassuming, old and cracked. He flipped it over. "Evinco timor di obscurum."
"To conquer the fear of the dark?' Are you sure this was the one?"
Hermione nodded. "Isn't there something we can do?"
"Get up and take a walk, Hermione. The emanations will dissipate. We'll be fine." Hermione obeyed, and the other women joined her.
As soon as they were gone, Snape calmly snuffed the candle. Prepared, the burning didn't hurt as much this time as the cover opened and the darkness engulfed them. "Liber di Nequam Obscurum; Evinco timor di pessimus oscurum, ille facto res."
"What does it mean? Father? Godfather?"
"To conquer fear of the dark, become the worst thing in it. This is the book of Vile Darkness, Draco."
"It's some kind of cursed grimoire, obviously, but why did we all react so strongly?"
"Because this book is to grimoires as Magick Moste Evile is to tracts about the nature of Dark magic. Books of this type are designed to give the right sort of readers ideas about what's inside. The title is a sort of mean spirited jest, like a mask."
"What do we do now?"
Snape lit the candle again. "We send the ladies to bed, and then I—and Shacklebolt, if he's game—retreat to the laboratory and attempt to figure out what that mad bitch has done."
And that's what they did. Draco apologized for scaring Hermione, and she scolded him for worrying about her when he should be resting. He didn't mention that his Mark had darkened somewhat at the contact—brief as it was—with such Dark magic. Not tonight.
Snape took a few energizing potions and read through the night, with Shacklebolt sitting vigil beside him. His fingers found a worn patch on one corner, as though it had been redcapped by a reader. He hoped he was wrong. He prayed he was wrong.
At 5.15 he got a summons to the children's rooms, where Hermione, whey faced, was nonetheless very calmly waiting for him.
"I thought last night that I felt something when I touched that—that thing. But just now Draco felt it too. It's too early, isn't it? Much too early?"
He called for his things and saw no point in lying as they waited for the aura of the grimoire to clear enough for him to touch her. "Yes, it is. Swallow this."
She did. He waited for the potion to take effect and swished his wand. His face was still. "Engorgio Intra. Get Lucius and Narcissa. Now."
