AN: I've edited this chapter to death...haha. It's not perfect, but nothing ever is...so yeah. Enjoy my pretties! Thank you much. *kisses*

Chapter 10 - Everything Is Broken

Draco wandered down the empty cream corridors of the Chateau embracing the eerie silence. One would expect a constant cacophony of noises with the number of witches and wizards inside the walls, but in those few moments before the sun rises, it was quiet. Those were the moments Draco cherished the most. It was a substantial risk to house so many of them together, but the alternative wasn't something he wished to dwell upon. He found himself standing at the end of the hall, gazing out the picture window while the early morning rays kissed the snow covered mountaintops. Draco wished Hermione would venture from their chamber. He wished he could share with her this magical beauty of nature, but he'd been making wishes such as that every morning for the past month.

Draco thought things would be the same as they were. He thought he'd have the comfort and presence of his wife and they'd bask in the joy and terror of impending parenthood. He didn't count on the trauma. He didn't count on the night terrors. He didn't count on much of anything, which made him feel exceedingly selfish. He was Draco Malfoy. He's supposed to be selfish and arrogant and narcissistic and incorrigible. It was out of character for him to feel guilt. Draco wanted to understand his wife, at least, he thought he did, but he felt as if he were losing her.

"Draco, dear." Molly Weasley gently prodded him, as she did nearly every morning, "Talk to her. Let her talk to you. Bring her a spot of tea, would you?" Molly was one of the few who actually embraced their surroundings. She thrived under the conditions. She was simply born to care for others.

"She won't speak with me, about any of it. Sure, a few snippets in the beginning, but now? Nothing." Draco shrugged, watching the pastel yellows turn into golds and orange.

"Then you speak with her. It's not as if she's willing to leave the room to stop you." Molly winked, squeezing his arm before bustling off the kitchen to prepare breakfast. No matter how many times Declan reminded Molly he had house elves, she still prepared the meals.

Draco contemplated Molly's words, his mind swirling in circles. When the sun gently rose over the highest mountain peak, he had made his decision. Molly was right. Hermione refused to leave their chamber, what did he have to lose? Slowly, he climbed the wide spiral staircase, hidden in an alcove, to reach their private chamber.

"Love? Are you awake?" Draco stood next to the four poster bed, watching the curly headed brunette scrunch her eyes shut, ignoring him. He was used to this routine as well. Draco knew she awoke the moment he left their bed. Even though she wouldn't let him touch her while she was awake, it comforted her to know he was there, when she was sleeping.

Every morning when the sun began its ascent he would return and ask her if she was awake and Hermione would ignore him. Normally he climbed back into their bed, moulding himself around her back, daring her to betray herself. Secretly, Hermione lived for those moments. She reveled in the feel of him pressed against her, his face nuzzling her hair, even his hand which always tentatively laid on her waist.

However, this morning was different. Draco climbed into the bed beside his wife, watching her back stiffen and smirking. With trembling fingers he reached for her, brushing against her shoulder, turning her slowly onto her back. Using his wand he stoked the fire, flames rushing to life, before he lowered the coverlet. Draco folded it down her stomach round with child, folding it across her thighs. He pulled a pillow down from the head of the bed. Carefully he laid his head upon the pillow, his hand finding its way to the place his child slept. Draco flipped onto his side, drawing circles across the taut skin, watching Hermione's brows furrow in concentration.

"Alright then," Draco began shakily. He didn't have a bloody idea what he was doing, but Molly was right. He needed to talk. Instead of attempting to speak with Hermione, he chose their child. At the very least, their child couldn't burrow under the covers or stick their fingers in their ears or worse yet, simply cry. Draco carefully raised the bottom of Hermione's shirt so her stomach was exposed, his lips inches from her pale skin.

"I've never done this before, so bare with me. Did you know your mummy is the brightest witch of her age? I can't tell you how much that drove me a bit mad. I was always just a touch behind, always good but not quite good enough. It's alright now, of course. If I had to lose to anyone, I'm glad it was your mummy. Though I must say, she always had terrible hair in those days. Merlin, I hope you inherit my hair...and my teeth for that matter…

'I remember the first time I spotted your mummy. We were going to Hogwarts for the first time. You'll be going there as well. She was running down the corridors of The Hogwarts Express like a bloody loon, terrorizing people about the whereabouts of a toad. Can you imagine? All that fuss over a toad? She shoved past me when I didn't answer her. How could I answer her really? I'd never seen eyes like hers before. Sure, most people would simply say they're brown, but they're not. Alright they are brown but, they're warm like honey with these flecks of yellow, gold and even a bit of green in them, and so extraordinarily expressive. I hope you'll have her eyes.

'Your mummy was absolutely wicked to me in school. Don't let her tell you otherwise, but, I'll let you in on a bit of a secret..." Draco leaned closer, his lips grazing her skin, his palms flat below her navel. "I was a bit of a git in those days. I said terrible things to her. I'm not going to tell you either. Terrible things. I wasn't a good person in those days, but I like to think I've done alright now.

'I really hated her friends. Scarface and Weaselbee. Those aren't their real names obviously but I'm not about to spout them. I don't believe your mummy would appreciate vomit all over her...and you for that matter. They weren't bad people, except the Weasel. He made your mummy cry a bit. He was a ...well; your mummy says we shouldn't say unkind things about the dead. I suppose she's right.

'I'm your father. I'll never tell you to call me father. My father demanded it. It's a very cold sort of title now isn't it? You could call me dad. I'd like that. Hello. I'm your dad." Draco Malfoy smiled, enjoying the way the strange conversation rolled off his lips. He rubbed her stomach and jumped as it moved.

"What was that? Was that you? Are you moving about? Well, isn't that bloody interesting? I can't wait to meet you. I'm hoping your mummy will be speaking to me by then. I suppose it would be quite difficult to raise a child without words, though, I suppose mutes do it, don't they? Hmmm." His cheek rested against her and he found himself laughing when there was a decided thump under his cheek.

"The baby likes your voice." Hermione's soft voice floated through the early morning air and Draco held his breath.

He didn't want to ruin the moment by leaping about in a fit of joy. He fought down the shiver on his spine when her petite fingers ran through strands of his hair. He could feel it falling back to his head and he never wished the moment to end. Instead of looking into the eyes which made him complete, he spoke to his child.

"Your mummy punched me once. Alright maybe it was a slap but either way, she's violent, so, don't make her angry. My father was a bit violent too. I don't suppose I should tell you things like this, but you're a really good listener child with no name. If I was naughty, well, I think you're too young for that really, let's just say, it was quite painful. "

"Lucius? He..." Draco started at the sound of her voice. He rolled over further, raising his head, to meet the golden brown eyes he loved.

"You don't want to know, Granger." He loved the way she bit the corner of her lip when she was nervous.

"Tell me?" Hermione's hand hovered in the air, almost as if she were afraid to touch him. Draco leaned into her palm, expelling a sigh of contentment at her very touch. He tossed the pillow next to her head, shifting his body up the bed. He didn't want her to see his face, not if he were going to tell her about his childhood. He kissed her palm, frowning but knew he would succumb to her request.

"Roll over." Draco closed his eyes, feeling her weight shift beside him as she situated herself. He snaked an arm around her, the other underneath her head, while he lost himself in her soft curls. He couldn't nor did he want to stop himself from kissing the side of her neck. Hermione stiffened as he knew she would, but he needed her.

"As grateful as I am to my father for helping you get back to me, I don't know if I'll ever forgive him for my childhood..." Draco began slowly.

Hermione was lulled by the voice of her husband. She was having great difficulty adjusting to life in the Chateau. There was too much commotion, too many people; she was suffocating under the unwanted attention. Everyone kept asking her if she was ok, how she was doing, if she needed anything as if she were an invalid. Hermione was most definitely not an invalid. Terrified? Absolutely, yet nothing resembling an invalid.

Some nights when Draco was dead to the world, she ventured from their chamber to the kitchen downstairs. She enjoyed the silence. She would make herself a spot of tea; sit at one of the many tables strewn throughout the room.

It had become a habit for Daphne to join her. In the beginning it had felt a bit uncomfortable to sit in silence with the new mother. Daphne had watched Hermione. She watched her hands shake, the slight tremble to her lips, the protective position of her arms always wrapped about her abdomen. As if she could keep her child safe by that simple action.

A few days before, Daphne broke the silence with a simple declaration, which caused Hermione to break her silence with Draco.

"You can't hide from him forever. He loves you. He's miserable. I never would have thought the courageous Gryffindor Princess would bring the Slytherin Prince to his knees. I thought you bloody Gryffindors were chalk full of bravery and courage and all those other horrid qualities. You're the coward, not him." Daphne had sneered then, slamming her mug onto the table. Hermione felt a familiar fire building within her. She gasped, recognising her ire.

"How. Dare. You." Hermione had drawn her wand from the pocket of her dressing gown. She waved it in Daphne's general direction, her lips pressed tightly in fury. Daphne arched a singular eyebrow in derision.

"How dare I? How dare you. You haven't considered him once. You're so busy wallowing in your own misery. So what? Harry bloody Potter snatched you like the last piece of cake. Big. Fucking. Deal.

'When you're raised by Death Eater parents, come talk to us. When your first pleasant childhood memory is being grateful your parents tortured your house elf instead of you, then maybe you'll bloody understand, you selfish, self centered bitch. When you've spent ages locked in a closet or the dungeon and haven't eaten in so long you've forgotten the taste of bloody toast...when you have to be healed simply because you spilled your glass of juice...when your back is covered in so many scars you memorized concealment charms before you ever started Hogwarts. When your parents and your parents friends, pass you around..." Daphne sobbed then, her hands instantly covering her sobbing mouth.

"Daph, that's enough." Declan stepped out of the shadows. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to shout a bit, but the pain on Daphne's face and the horror in Hermione's stopped him. He embraced the new mother lightly, rubbing her back as she sobbed.

"She's so bloody stubborn, Dec. She doesn't bloody know everything. She doesn't know anything about us, anything at all. I don't wish to watch her torture him anymore. I want to go home." Daphne clung to Declan, her hands clenching his robes in her fists.

He felt her knees buckling against him as he led her to a dining chair. Declan allowed to his gaze to settle on Hermione, who was still frozen beside a table. She had lowered her wand, watching the scene unfold before her.

"You're right." Daphne's head snapped up at Hermione's whispered words.

She watched the pregnant witch slide to the floor, her hands covering her distraught face. The realization of Hermione's selfishness caused her to weep uncontrollably. She had been so consumed with her own pain; she had never given a thought to his. Finally she released the pent up rage, yet also angst and guilt which had kept carefully contained since her rescue. Hermione didn't know how long she wept on the cold floor, but when she finally raised her head with determination, she was alone.

"Why?" Hermione couldn't resist twirling his locks around her fingers, through them. She allowed herself to embrace the longing. She traced the furrow on his brows, attempting to erase Draco's confused frown.

"Why what?" Draco had been in the middle of a monologue describing one of his many childhood punishments when she had interrupted him.

"If Lucius hated you so very much to do all those terrible things to you, for the sake of 'making you a stronger and better pureblood wizard', which is completely bloody nonsense in my opinion, why did he rescue me? A filthy, dirty, disgusting Mudblood, carrying your half-blood child? Shouldn't I be the epitome of exactly which he detests?" Hermione took a deep breath, pushing the anxiety back to its depths.

It was the longest she had spoken in weeks. To her surprise, Draco sat up then, tugging her up with him, as his arm was still behind her head while they reclined. Tenderly, he cupped her face in his large hands, his forehead resting on hers, his grey eyes hidden behind long lashes.

"I don't ever wish to hear you speak about yourself or our child in such a way ever again." Hermione could hear the pain and the underlying fury in his hissed words. She felt the familiar flutter in her chest, allowing her hands to cover his. He sucked in a breath between his teeth from her contact, his eyes remaining closed.

"Doesn't answer my question, Malfoy." She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to feel his lips against her cheeks, her lips, her throat, yet she resisted the urge. Hermione wondered if he could feel her quickened pulse, her ragged breaths when he released her, his hands dropping to her shoulders.

"He loves my mother." Draco said simply. "He may be completely incapable of loving me," he scoffed in resentment, "Lucius would never do anything to truly hurt my mother."

"But..." Draco covered Hermione's lips with a finger.

"My mother doesn't know the half of my 'punishments'. She caught him once. It was in the summer, before I went to Hogwarts, a few days after I received my letter, in fact. Lucius was ranting about Harry Potter of all things. How I should befriend the git, how he would be a perfect addition to our world, regardless of his blood status. I made some flippant remark, can't remember it exactly, but it was something about Potter winding up in Hufflepuff.

'I was a child; I thought it was an amusing thought, but my father? He was absolutely bloody furious. It was the first time I was ever hit with an Unforgivable. I didn't really know what pain was before that day. It wasn't the last time, but the first which left a lasting impression.

'My mother walked in while I was writhing on the floor having long since lost my voice. I could feel the hatred flowing off him. It was the first time I knew my father truly hated me. My mother hexed him then. I remember seeing him crash into her curio cabinet. Everything was blurry and a bit hazy but I held onto that moment.

'The one defining moment in my life. My mother would go to the ends of the earth for me and my father would bury me if offered the chance. And if my father wished to keep himself in one piece, he'd go to the ends of the earth to keep her happy." Draco shook his head, as if trying to remove the memory. He didn't want to see the pity in his wife's eyes. He had never told anyone what had transpired that day, until now. It really was the only explanation he had for his father's actions.

He allowed his hand to fall from her shoulder when she shifted. He was used to Hermione rejecting his casual caresses. It still hurt him, to the very core of his soul, but he'd long since learned to hide such expressions of emotion. His eyes flew open to find her cold fingers running along the side of his face before her soft lips pressed against his.

Draco wanted to grasp her to him in a bone crushing embrace; instead he returned her tentative kiss. He reclined upon the soft pillows, dragging her down across his chest. He held her head in place, with a hand firmly held against the back of her head. He spread kisses across her cheeks and the tip of her nose before returning to her waiting lips. He groaned when her teeth caught his bottom lip, biting it lightly. Draco plunged into her mouth, unable to resist her any longer. He reveled in her taste, her breasts pressed against him, her thigh casually across his own.

Deciding to risk her wrath, his hand snaked under her night shirt, a sigh filled with want escaping his engaged lips upon feeling her breast in his hand. Draco felt a moment of elation when she did not pull away, instead groaning into his mouth. A droplet of water fell onto the side of his nose, while his mouth was suckling the side of her neck. Instantly he broke away, pulling her face away from his, searching her golden brown eyes for the pity and regret he wished were not there.

"What? What is it?" It pained Draco to speak.

His stomach clenched in worry. He didn't know if he could bear it if Hermione was simply trying to comfort him or something equally pitying. Hermione brushed the tears from her cheeks as if they were a personal affront.

"I missed you." Her voice broke while he absorbed her words. Draco felt her fingers digging into his shoulders. "I've spent all this…this fucking TIME, just being bloody miserable and reliving every fucking moment instead of thinking of you and how bloody difficult it must have been for you." Draco's eyebrows raised in shock.

Hermione was always the witch insinuating profane language was beneath her and yet it was flowing easily from her bruised lips. He didn't wish to upset her and watch her retreat into the practically catatonic uncommunicative wanker he'd tolerated since her rescue.

"Language." It was silly and perhaps a bit condescending but it was the only thing Draco Malfoy could think of saying to diffuse a potentially volatile situation.

He tucked a few wayward curls behind her ear with a small smirk. His heart ached with want, laced with guilt. He still harbored a certain level of animosity for himself. He hadn't had enough faith in her and it was killing him, would kill him, if she didn't forgive him. Draco found his mouth opening to beg her, plead for forgiveness but to his amazement, Hermione began to laugh.

"Granger," he began in his best Hermione impersonation, "it's most unbecoming for any witch or wizard to use such profane language; frankly I'm surprised you would lower yourself to such crass standards." He arched his eyebrow before sniffing with implied disdain. Draco found himself smiling while Hermione's raucous peals of laughter filled their bedchamber.

"Finally." George Weasley said that which they were all thinking, as Hermione's laughter reverberated throughout the Chateau.

Fred and Luna snickered, each bouncing a pale red headed child, while Lucius and Narcissa lurked in the shadows. Molly and Arthur whispered near the hearth while the fire blazed. Daphne napped against her husband's shoulder while their newborn daughter slept on Blaise's chest. Bill, Fleur and their two children were occupying themselves in the make-shift playroom. Declan and Theo stood outside in the light snow downing firewhiskey, completely restless and irritated.

A head full of long blazing red hair rushed past all of them, her wand brandished, Neville Longbottom hurrying behind his wife.

"Longbottom, you really should stop her..." George shrugged nonchalantly. Neville gasped, plopping himself into the armchair across from George. His eyes widened as the obvious sounds of lovemaking overshadowed his attempts to regain his breath.

"She..." Neville gasped, "she thinks there's...an intruder. You go stop her." George appraised his baby sister's husband. He definitely wasn't the chubby, stuttering ponce he'd come to know.

Neville towered over his petite wife, his dark hair, flopping carelessly across one bright eye. The Second Wizarding War had changed Neville Longbottom as it had changed them all.

"No sir. Your wife. Though, Malfoy should know to cast a bloody Silencing Charm. Ridiculous that we should be subjected to their mating calls. I'm sure none of you bleedin' care a bit, what with all the COITUS I find myself surrounded but for MERLIN'S BLOODY SAKE..." George took a shuddered breath, though whether it was filled with anger or jealousy, no one could truly to certain, "CAST. BETTER. CHARMS!" George kicked over his chair, storming angrily from the makeshift living space, slamming doors along his way to some solace.

"Well, that was uncalled for." Narcissa Malfoy sniffed with disdain, looking down upon George's outburst. She paused for a moment, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder, her head tilted.

"Though," She cleared her throat uncomfortably. "He has a point." A slight pink flush decorated Narcissa's cheeks before she took her leave. Lucius coughed, trying to drown out the murmurs, moans, groans and even hisses floating down the staircase leading to Draco and Hermione's bedchamber.

"I think I'll just...er excuse me." With a shudder bordering on revulsion, Lucius threw open French doors leading to the exterior and snatched the bottle of firewhiskey from Theo's hands, taking a long drought.

Fred and Luna headed toward the nursery to put their twins down for a much needed nap, reminding each other with whispers and snickers to cast Silencing Charms around the cribs.

The blood curdling scream of Ginevra Weasley Longbottom, startled Daphne from her nap, which frightened her daughter, which made Blaise absolutely furious. Daphne snatched her daughter from his chest, instantly cradling her with wide eyes searching for the danger which lurched. Blaise Zabini's face reddened, a tick in his jaw jumping, his eyes squeezed shut while he attempted to calm his personal storm.

Neville did not envy his wife. While he knew she had a temper to be reckoned with, Blaise Zabini was another matter. He tried to wave her away, to warn her, but Ginny had always been a stubborn sort. She rolled her eyes, stomping down the staircase toward him.

"Oi! CAN YOU..." Ginny shouted, still stalking across the deep maroon area rug toward her husband, when she was interrupted by a resounding slap, forcing her head to the side and a slight stumble.

"You are an obnoxious witch. I'd blame it on your Weasley genes but I wouldn't want to insult your mother. Your daughter is crying. Attend her you nosy bint." Daphne patted her daughter's bottom while glowering at Ginny.

"WELL, I.." Ginny stamped her foot, her face red with rage.

"Silencio."

"Longbottom, you're alright." Blaise snickered, watching his wife's hips sway out of the room.

Neville sighed. He loved his wife, desperately, but sometimes he wished she was mute. She had a tendency to bellow, regardless of her surroundings. She was tiring. He knew they'd never last if she didn't take others into consideration.

"I love her, but..." Blaise took a seat beside Neville and waited in the silence before taking things into his own hands.

"She's abrasive, stubborn, loud, bossy, stubborn, a Weasley.."

"Oi! That's my wife!" Blaise chuckled, noticing Neville didn't refute the claims.

"Yea, but mate, your wife is a bitch. Perhaps she's a bit different behind closed doors. I'd love to pretend she was, but honestly? She's not. You forget Silencing Charms as much as anyone. She's definitely wearing the pants in your relationship. Man up, Longbottom. You killed Voldy's snake you can conquer a ginger." Blaise slapped Neville on the back, leaving in search of his wife.

"I can't believe you forgot to cast a Silencing Charm." Hermione's cheeks were a delightful shade of pink while she covered her face with a pillow.

"There's no need to be embarrassed, wife. It isn't as if we've never heard the bloody Longbottoms. She's a tyrant." Draco felt the ever present pain in his chest dissipate as he held his wife.

"Merlin, its horrid isn't it? Harder, faster, not like that Neville. Right there, left, left, left, use your tongue! Why must she shout?"

"Granger, the imagery is making me ill. Please, never do that again." He kissed her bare shoulder, still in a bit of awe that he was wrapped around her.

"Does that mean I can get up now?" Hermione pressed into his chest, embracing her body's response to him.

"Not at all, give me a minute." Draco began tugging the cool white sheet from her naked form, snickering as she clutched it tightly.

"Malfoy, the baby's hungry."

"Granger, that's not going to work on me, I've read all those bloody books. The baby is the size of a potato. It's not hungry. I'm hungry."

Draco rolled Hermione onto her back, despite her meager protests. She kept the pillow firmly lodged over her face, which served his intentions just fine. He started slowly, small kisses on her neck, her collarbone, the side of her breast. He couldn't help but smirk when she gasped lightly.

He knelt between her legs, his hands soon following his lips over the mound of her stomach. He willed their child to remain silent for the sake of this tender moment. Draco had missed her terribly, more than even he was willing to admit and seeing her bare before him, made him whole.

Hermione knew he was paying a certain homage to her and her blood warmed considerably at his show of affection. She shrieked when he tugged on her ankles, dragging her to the foot of their bed. She shivered upon feeling moist lips and cool fingers behind her knee.

"I missed you." He breathed against the goosefleshed skin, his fingers rubbing circles on her stomach.

Hermione's bottom lip was caught between her teeth and she wished only to press her thighs together for the slightest relief, but Draco was filled with determination. She moaned into the pillow when she felt a knuckle lightly graze her blush nether lips.

Draco tore the pillow from her clutches, intent upon hearing every breath, every moan and every groan. He'd gone too long to be further denied. He closed his eyes and reveled in the feel of her.

"Dr..Draco." He held her hips firmly in place, even as her back arched off the bed.

She was aware of a humming in her ears, a ringing perhaps, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the sensations he was reawakening in her. The fiery burn, the tension in her muscles, the hardened peaks begging for attention, consumed her. Hermione was vaguely aware of a slight commotion, just on the other side of their bedroom door, but she couldn't focus on such things.

"Uhm…Granger."

"No. Shut up, don't stop!" Draco chuckled, yet who was he to deny her insistent demands?

It was obvious Blaise, Fred and perhaps even Declan and Theo were having a bit of fun outside their door, but Hermione's keening was almost drowning them out completely. The moment her knees began to quiver and she shuddered beneath him; he used her thighs for leverage to stand. Draco didn't give her a second to recover before she was filled with him.

"I can't…I can't…" Hermione's head thrashed on the white sheets; her hair tangling beneath her in a sweaty coil of curls.

"Yes you can Granger!"

"Oh Malfoy harder!"

"Give it to me baby!"

"Punish me ferret!"

The cacophony of voices shouting through the door almost ruined the moment. Hermione's eyes flew open in shock and embarrassment and Draco knew if she had the strength she would push him away. He gripped her hips, keeping her wedged against him as the familiar tingling coiled in his abdomen. His knees began to shake with exertion and with a few more erratic thrusts, Hermione was clenched around him and he couldn't help but follow her.

"Do you think they're done?" Blaise jabbed Declan in the ribs, wiggling his eyebrows.

"They must be, it's finally fucking quiet." Declan grumbled, giving the closed door a kick.

"Maybe they finally found their wands?" Theo crossed his arms, leaning on the rough stone wall, as if it were an everyday occurrence to listen to others shag.

"Oi, Weasley…er Fred, I can't believe you called him a ferret." Blaise chuckled, clapping his hand over his mouth.

"What? It's not as if he can say he's never been one, now can he? We better go, I hear mum and she sounds angry."