Hermione strode rapidly across the cobbled courtyard towards the door to the main prison block. Having been there before she already knew the way and wanted to get inside, out of the cold and rain before she had a chance to change her mind and chicken out completely.
She had risked so much to come here again and she wasn't going to let her fear conquer what she needed to do, but with the terrible weather, she didn't want to stand around waiting for one of the guards or the warden to come and get her.
It was astonishing how cold Azkaban was, although being in the middle of the inhospitable North Sea it probably shouldn't have come as a surprise. But while she had come from glorious, almost tropical temperatures in the south-east of England, up here it was almost cold enough for snow. The miserable squall that greeted her arrival seeped through her cloak, chilling her right through to her bones.
Hermione pressed the bell, stamping her cold feet as she waited for the door to open and a guard to allow her admittance to the dismal building beyond. She knew she was expected — no one visited Azkaban without an appointment, or without an important reason for going there.
When she had visited Lucius here before, Hermione tried to imagine what the prison had been like when he was incarcerated after being caught in the failed raid at the Ministry of Magic. Azkaban was completely different then, with the Dementors acting as guards rather than the all-wizard population as was now the case.
Hermione knew from Sirius' descriptions of the place that it would have been like hell on earth to be imprisoned here, particularly with inmates like the insane witch Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband for company. It would be enough to turn anyone mad — even Sirius hadn't been completely sane immediately after his escape.
Knowing how grim the current incarnation of Azkaban was — and by all accounts it was almost a haven of peace and tranquillity compared to the Dementor years — Hermione could understand how Lucius had left the prison broken and unhinged, and how hard he must have worked to keep his insanity hidden from his friends and loved ones.
She still wasn't sure how that insanity had eventually translated itself into an obsession with her although she suspected his incarceration here had contributed to his state of mind at the time. But even more than a decade after she had been physically rescued from Malfoy Manor she was still just as much in thrall to the blond man as she had been during her imprisonment.
Even now, despite everything she had been through and everything she had done to try to escape, Hermione was still bound to Lucius Malfoy and suspected that, unfortunately, she always would be.
The door opened and a grey-clad figure peered out at her suspiciously, not seeming to care that she was being lashed by freezing rain and a desperate gale.
'Can I come in?' she asked.
Almost reluctantly the guard stepped back, holding open the door to allow Hermione entrance. The thick metal door clanged shut behind her, abruptly cutting off the sound of the storm. The dark and silent corridor was almost warm after exposure to the violent weather outside.
The brusque man directed Hermione down a long corridor to a small office on the right-hand side that housed the visitors' reception. She set off down the grim passageway, already feeling a little claustrophobic and glad that she was only visiting.
Even though it wasn't anywhere near as bad as it had been the last time she was here, which had been pretty grim — and that was still better than it had been under the Dementors — she really didn't feel comfortable being here, and that was without her feelings and anxieties about Lucius bearing down on her.
'Is Guard Flatworthy here today?' Hermione asked once she arrived in the visitor's reception area and hung up her soaking cloak on one of the wall pegs. 'He's expecting me. My name's Hermione Granger — I'm here to see Lucius Malfoy.'
The young guard behind the desk nodded in recognition. Pleasantly he answered, 'Ah, yes, Miss Granger. Ted mentioned that you were coming in today. He's down in C Block at the moment but he should be back in about fifteen minutes if you want to wait for him.' He indicated to a couple of padded seats. 'You can sit there while you wait. Do you want a cup of tea? I expect you're freezing after being out in that storm.'
Hermione smiled and said gratefully, 'A cup of tea would be wonderful, thank you. It's horrible out there.'
The guard disappeared into the office behind the reception counter, leaving Hermione alone. She wandered over to the seats to look at the various posters that lined the walls of the room. They seemed to be a mixed bag, some containing warnings and rules about things like leaving your wand with the guard before visiting a prisoner or the penalties that would be levied if you were caught smuggling contraband items into the prison.
There was also a selection of wanted posters. Most were in the new minimalistic, almost art deco-inspired design that mirrored the style of the latest Ministry of Magic directives, but a few were still in the old design that Hermione remembered seeing all over Diagon Alley and throughout Hogsmeade after Sirius' escape and just after Voldemort's Death Eaters had escaped from Azkaban the first time.
Hermione shuddered when she saw the insane face of Bellatrix Lestrange silently sneering at her from one of the posters. She had forgotten how utterly scary the woman had been, her madness evident even then.
'Here we go,' the guard said. He was holding a mug out to Hermione. He followed her gaze. 'Ah, the lovely Bellatrix — one of our more infamous inmates. She was sent here after the first wizarding war and escaped just before the second. She was killed at the Battle of Hogwarts.'
He sounded almost fond of the witch even though Hermione suspected he was too young to remember anything about her other than what he had learnt at school or from records in the prison itself.
'I know. My best friend's mother, Molly Weasley, was the one who killed her,' Hermione said. 'Bellatrix was completely insane.'
'Not really surprising considering the number of years she spent in here under the Dementors,' the guard pointed out.
Hermione frowned. 'I think she was probably already pretty mentally deranged before she got arrested. She and her husband were sent here for destroying the parents of a friend of mine with the Cruciatus Curse, and you can't tell me that's normal behaviour.'
'The Longbottoms, you mean,' the guard said sympathetically. 'Yes, it was a terrible thing that Bellatrix and her colleagues did. Molly Weasley did the world a great service getting rid of her.'
'Have you worked here long?' Hermione asked interestedly. 'Don't you find it a bit of a depressing place to work?'
The guard shrugged. 'It's not too bad, especially when I hear from some of the real old-timers about what it was like when the Dementors were here. This was definitely a much more challenging job in those days. Nowadays everything's very modern and the prisoners are well treated and have regular counselling sessions with Healers, so there's much less despair around.
'Also, we don't have to be here all the time, which helps a bit. There are six teams of guards and we work in shifts — three teams stay on the island at any one time and work in rotation. We're here for a month, then the other teams relieve us and we return to the mainland for training and leave.
'It's very well paid because it's classed as an unsociable job, and it doesn't cost us anything while we're here as all food and drink is provided — and obviously there's nowhere to spend any money, so it's a good chance to accrue a decent amount of cash in a short time. I've been here for about three years now.'
He took a sip of his tea and then, blushing, continued, 'I recently got engaged so the money is going to come in useful to pay for the wedding and to get us a house. I think I'll probably do another two or three years before giving it up and moving back to the mainland permanently.
'Cerys, my fiancée, is quite happy for me to continue here as she's busy training to be a Healer, so we wouldn't get to spend much time together at the moment anyway. Much better that I rack up a few Galleons working here to give us a good start once she finally qualifies.'
'I think it's changed a bit since I was last here,' Hermione said. 'It seems slightly less bleak.'
'When did you last come here?' the guard asked.
'Five years ago,' Hermione said quietly.
He nodded. 'The Minister for Magic decided to change things a bit, especially as we have so many long-term prisoners — all those old Death Eaters that are going to be stuck in here for decades. He wanted to make the place more hospitable as it was still a bloody awful place even after they got rid of the Dementors. Those criminals may have done some terrible things but they're still wizards and deserve a minimum standard of living.
'They've been slowly working on doing the prison up since just after I started working here, redecorating the communal areas in slightly more soothing tones and adding things like this reception area to make it more appealing to visitors, although we still don't get very many as it's such a difficult trip and the weather is so inhospitable most of the time. They've even put plants out in the grounds, around the prisoners' exercise compound, but they don't tend to last very well with the inclement weather.
'The cells have all been properly cleaned out and refurbished to quite a good standard, especially compared to what they used to be like. Long-term prisoners and those with the money to pay, like your friend Malfoy, actually have quite a comfortable existence these days — although they do have to earn their privileges with good behaviour.
'As long as the prisoners don't cause any trouble they pretty much get a quiet life, but one slip and all privileges they may have built up are revoked completely, and that includes things like cell decoration and all those things that make their incarceration that little bit less dreary.
'Your friend is a model prisoner, though. I don't think we've ever had any trouble with him, certainly not since I've been here anyway. I suspect, considering how lavish his cell is, he's had many years of privileges built up.'
'I don't think he ever has caused any trouble,' Hermione acknowledged. 'I know he already regretted everything he had done before he was even sent here so he was never going to create trouble. He just wants to do his time and get out.'
The guard chuckled. 'He's still got a long way to go yet — another fifteen years unless he gets early release, and that's not likely considering he was a Death Eater. No one's inclined to go easy on those bastards whether they've repented or not.'
The door opened and another guard entered the room. Hermione smiled when she recognised the dour countenance of the bluff northern guard, Ted Flatworthy.
'Ye've arrived then, lass. How was yer journey?' he asked as he shook Hermione's hand warmly. 'Are yer all right to wait another couple of minutes while I have a cuppa?'
'Of course I am, Ted,' Hermione told him. 'The journey wasn't too bad but the weather is foul out there today. My cloak is absolutely soaked through.'
The other guard left them, returning a couple of minutes later with a mug of tea for Ted.
Ted smiled as he surveyed Hermione. 'It's good to see yer, Hermione, and yer looking reet well, too — better than yer were the last time I saw yer, any road. I take it things are going well for yer?' He took a sip of his tea, sighed happily, then added, 'Lucius is going to be reet made up to see yer lookin' so good.'
'How is he?' Hermione asked, hoping she wasn't blushing.
She knew Ted Flatworthy had been Lucius' main guard since he arrived in Azkaban a decade before and that the two men had become quite close over the years. She wasn't sure if the guard knew about what had happened between her and Lucius on her last visit but suspected it was possible as Lucius had no one else to talk to apart from his Healers and Azkaban didn't seem to be the place for secrets.
''E's his usual self,' Ted said with a noncommittal shrug. 'I think 'e was hoping his son might finally come to see 'im but there ain't been no sign of 'im so far. 'E hasn't had any visitors since you last came.'
Hermione thought Ted's tone was slightly reproachful; surely he didn't expect her to visit more regularly, did he?
'I haven't seen Draco for years, not since before Lucius was sent here, so I can't really say why he hasn't been to see him. But I know they weren't getting on very well at that time so maybe that's stopped him from coming.'
'Aye, well, it's a reet shame that 'e's let an argument stop him from seeing 'is dad. It's not right having family disharmony like that.'
'Draco was very close to his mother so I expect that had something to do with his decision. I doubt very much that Narcissa wanted to see Lucius and I expect Draco feels the same way,' Hermione told him.
She was feeling a bit jittery as talking about Draco and Narcissa brought back memories of the past that she had tried so hard to bury. Her time as a Malfoy had been a different life, one that she spent all her time trying to forget had happened in order to keep her sanity.
Ted noticed Hermione's awkwardness and realised they were drifting into unwanted territory. He took a final swallow of his tea, placed the mug on the counter and rubbed his thin hands together as if trying to get warm.
'Are yer ready to go, lass?' he asked gently.
Hermione nodded and put her mug on the counter, too, then Ted ushered her out into the corridor.
'I am glad yer decided to come back, Hermione,' Ted told her as they walked. 'I know it's difficult for yer . . . after everything Lucius put yer through . . . but 'e really does think the world of yer and 'e finds it a bit of a struggle sometimes, especially as 'e never gets any other visitors.'
'I had to come,' Hermione said, 'but I can't make it a regular thing, Ted. I'm sorry. I still have too many issues to deal with, too many things that make it hard.'
Ted smiled sympathetically. 'I know tha', lass. But occasionally is better than never, and for Lucius, sommat is better than nowt.'
'I shouldn't come to visit him, though,' Hermione said. She suddenly realised she sounded upset, which worried her a little. She hadn't realised she was feeling so emotional. 'After what he did—'
'Aye, it were a terrible thing what happened to yer, but ye've a good heart on yer, Hermione, and yer forgiveness is what makes this world a better place.'
'I'm not sure I have forgiven him, though,' Hermione said quietly.
Ted studied her for a moment, then nodded sagely. 'Understandable, that. But if yer haven't yet, yer definitely getting there.'
They stopped outside Lucius' cell, and Hermione waited while the guard retrieved the key from the ring and used his wand to break the charms warding the door.
'How long do I have?' Hermione asked as she handed Ted her wand.
A moment of panic caused her heart to beat faster at the thought of being alone and unprotected with Lucius. Then she remembered that he, too, had no wand and Ted would be just outside the door, so there wasn't anything to worry about.
'How long d' yer want?' he asked. Hermione shrugged, not sure she could answer. Ted, understanding, patted her hand and gave her a warm smile. 'Yer take as long as yer like. When yer ready to leave, bang on t' door and I'll let yer out. I'll be waiting outside the whole time so don't yer worry about disturbing me.'
'Thank you, Ted.'
He gave her another smile. 'It'll be fine, Hermione. Don't yer worry about nowt, lass.'
Hermione wished she could accept Ted's advice but she knew her world was on a knife's edge again. She had to see Lucius now she was here although part of her still desperately wanted to run away. She had no idea how the encounter would go or what state she would find herself in once it was over.
She suddenly wished she had warned Harry and Ginny what she was doing so they would be there to support her and Sophie in the aftermath, just in case it did all go horribly wrong, but she hadn't because she had known they wouldn't approve and would try to talk her out of coming, so it was too late now.
'Are yer ready?' Ted asked gently, seeing Hermione's anxious expression.
Hermione bit her lip, took a deep breath and nodded.
'Yes.'
Ted opened the door and Hermione walked into the cell.
Hermione knew she was in serious trouble. If she was honest, it had been building for quite some time, but as usual she had done an excellent job of hoodwinking herself until it was too late to do anything sensible to help herself recover. Even after all these years her default setting was self-destruct, and once again she was doing a massively good job of it.
She picked up her mug of tea and wandered through to the lounge. She took a mouthful before placing it on the coffee table, then moved several of Sophie's books before sitting on the sofa. The cat appeared as if by magic and instantly made himself at home on her lap. Everything was silent with the exception of Boots' faint purring as Hermione gently stroked him.
Hermione picked up the honeybush and vanilla tea and took another sip, trying to convince herself that it tasted as good as an alcoholic drink would right now. She still felt those old cravings and it was at times like this when her mood was at its lowest ebb and she was alone in the house that she had to be careful not to step off the path and sink back into the mire.
Normally Hermione was proud of her achievement — almost twelve years without a drop of alcohol was something to be proud of considering how many highs and lows the path of her life had taken. But on days like today — and recently all her days had been like today — it all seemed like a pointless waste of time; like she would have done better just to go and get drunk somewhere.
Hermione knew what the problem was, had known deep inside what it was ever since April and Sophie's tenth birthday, but she had no idea what she was going to do about it or how she could stop things from deteriorating rapidly, which they already were and most assuredly would continue to do if she took no action to help herself.
Talking about it wasn't going to help — it never had for her, really, however much anyone else tried to convince her it would. It just made her feel even more under pressure; the need to perform in the 'normal' way people expected her to act was almost overwhelming in itself. People who thought that talking about issues was enough to banish the problem had never undergone anything nearing the level of depression that she battled with on a daily basis.
As Hermione aged, the sympathy that had once been relatively forthcoming from her friends and colleagues had begun to wane and she knew that they found her 'episodes', as Ginny called them, frustrating and wearing. She often got the impression that everyone thought she should just get over herself and stop being such a drama queen; as if it was as easy as closing a door on the past and forgetting all the bad stuff.
It wasn't that easy. It never had been and now, with her life in decline again, it was becoming ever more difficult to hold on to what was normal, to live her life as a useful and productive human being.
Recently she had found herself telling people what they wanted to hear not what her real thoughts were, including the Healer she was now seeing on a quarterly basis — lying once again in order to allow her friends to feel better about themselves.
The last time she had spoken to the Healer was just before Sophie's birthday before the latest black mood had really begun to take hold. She still had another six weeks before she was due to see him again as his holiday schedule had pushed her appointment back by a few weeks.
Getting out of bed and dealing with life had been a problem for Hermione for so many years, albeit with Sophie to look after and care for she had, most times, managed to sweep her bad feelings under the carpet and get on with her day because she had no choice, and because her daughter gave her that most important spark of life she needed to carry on.
Most days it had been hard, some days it had been almost impossible, but she had always managed to do it, however hard the tears had fallen at the end of the day as she lay in bed alone and lonely.
She'd had help, particularly in the form of Harry and Ginny and Molly and Arthur, who had held her up when she was slipping and were there to take care of Sophie on the extremely odd occasion when she couldn't manage alone. But now the dark place was rushing back, ready to crash upon her shore like a tidal wave, and Hermione was in danger of drowning before anyone could even throw her a lifebelt.
Sophie had been the light of her life for the ten years she had been alive, and despite Ron's disgust with Hermione over Lucius being the father — which he had fortunately never shown in front of Sophie — Hermione had never regretted one single moment with her daughter nor had she ever had cause to regret her decision to keep her.
But Sophie's birthday had triggered a reminder that her daughter was growing up, that they only had one more year together before her letter arrived from Hogwarts. Although Sophie's magic had been showing in small ways for years it finally hit Hermione that in just over another year she would be on the verge of losing her baby; her reason for getting up in the morning would be gone forever.
For Hermione, the idea of Sophie going off to Hogwarts wasn't one of excitement and anticipation as it already was for both her daughter and Harry and Ginny's son James. The two of them were already discussing which Houses they wanted to be Sorted into.
James was adamant that he would be put in Gryffindor like his parents, whereas Sophie could never decide where she wanted to be and mainly wavered between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw — although Hermione wondered whether she was too much like her father and might end up being a Slytherin.
Even Harry and Ginny, and to a lesser extent Ron and Lavender, were caught up in the fever —weighing in with their tales of life at Hogwarts and of all the fun the two youngsters were sure to have when they finally took their places there. Hermione joined in with the conversation but all the time there was a sense of nausea, a lump of cold dread in her stomach, an unasked-for trepidation about what she was going to do when Sophie was no longer at home with her.
She had mentioned it once in passing, making light of it in a conversation at the Burrow when all the Weasley women were gathered together for one of their regular coffee mornings. Advice laughingly given on what to do had ranged from a slight touch of jealousy that Hermione would finally have time to herself — the others all still having children who weren't anywhere near Hogwarts age — to suggestions that she should consider going back to work. No one had picked up on Hermione's anxiety or considered that Sophie's leaving might be a much bigger deal for her than their children going to school was for them.
In fact, for Hermione, it was a massive great mountain of pain that she had no idea how to scale, and she was fairly certain she didn't have the right tools for the job. As spring moved towards summer Hermione found her mood darkening ever more as she tried to imagine being on her own without Sophie to keep her sane.
The truth was that she was scared, terrified that being alone would plunge her into the sort of depression she had worked so hard to avoid for the last decade. She didn't think that getting a job — even if she could find one she liked — or taking up a hobby — Merlin only knew what — was going to help. She could already feel the earth moving beneath her and knew it wouldn't take much for the landslide to begin.
Sophie had already become more independent over the last year, spending time away from home to stay with James and his various siblings and cousins at the Burrow during school holidays and even just for weekends. Molly loved having them all to stay, as did Arthur although he would never admit it, and Hermione couldn't begrudge her beautiful, carefree daughter the chance to have fun with her friends, however much she felt the urge to keep her locked away at home where it was just the two of them. That sort of restrictive love was damaging; who knew that better than her?
It was for this reason, too, that Hermione knew she had to let her daughter go to Hogwarts although every fibre of her being urged her to keep Sophie at home. If she stopped Sophie from going she would be no better than Lucius although without all the various types of abuse; the last thing she wanted was to be compared to the man who even now dominated her life far more than he should.
But just like a bad penny, and seemingly timed to coincide with her descent into melancholia, Lucius once again came back onto her radar with yet another letter to celebrate his fifteenth year in Azkaban. The tone this time was far more light-hearted and less romantic than in his previous epistles although he was still advocating regret for his prior treatment of her and still swearing undying love.
Hermione was horrified at how happy the letter's arrival made her feel although that emotion was tempered somewhat by the usual despair and loathing followed shortly after by the self-loathing that always accompanied the receipt of one of his letters. The problem was that as always she couldn't ignore it and she couldn't help the surging rush of need that filled her in a way that never failed to make her feel ashamed when it happened.
How could one stupid piece of parchment do so much to derail her and send her spiralling into the abyss of despair she had spent so long fighting her way out of? Why was she so helpless to reject what his missives made her feel, both the pain of remembrance and the exultation of his continuing desire for her?
Just the thought of Lucius made her feel sick, but at the same time there was that dizzy feeling that kept her dancing on the edge of the precipice, even knowing that one false step would send her toppling to her certain doom.
Hermione knew she would go and see Lucius eventually; she wouldn't be able to stop herself any more than she had been able to the previous times. It was almost as if she was punishing herself, the penance she had to suffer for continuing to exist when by rights she should have been long dead.
She wasn't sure that seeing Lucius locked away in his nice comfortable cell, even as repentant and dismayed as he was about his previous behaviour helped her at all, but it didn't matter — she would still go, and she would give in to that nihilistic urge that Harry and Ginny had spent so long trying to steer her away from and that Ron could never forgive her for.
Hermione grimaced as a sip of her tea revealed that it was cold. The stuff was bad enough when it was hot, although apparently good for her. She moved Boots from her lap and stood up, heading for the kitchen to put on the kettle, trying to decide between another tea and hot chocolate. Neither appealed as much as the idea of a drink — a real drink — but that wasn't happening tonight, however upset she might be feeling.
Ten minutes later saw her returned to the lounge, the hot chocolate resting on the coffee table as Hermione re-read Lucius' letter, the first inkling of an idea planting itself like a tiny parasitic seed in her brain. It was ridiculous, and she already knew it was completely wrong to even consider it, but with her depression set to come crashing down on her at any time it was the glimmer of light she had been searching for in the darkness.
Hermione dropped the letter onto the coffee table and picked up the mug, cradling the warm ceramic in her hands as she blew on the still hot liquid contained within to cool it. What she was considering was pure madness in every sense, but now the thought had taken hold she couldn't stop thinking about it. Harry and Ginny wouldn't be happy and Ron would probably stop talking to her completely, but Hermione suspected that Lavender would still be her friend.
She could already hear the berating tone of Healer Osgood warning her against doing something so foolish — so damaging to her still fragile grip on reality. But she had already done it once, so why shouldn't she do it again?
Finished with her hot chocolate, Hermione went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face before going to bed. She looked at herself in the mirror. She didn't look bad for a thirty-four-year-old, especially one who had been through as much as she had. If anything, she probably looked better now than she had back in her early twenties.
However, if she studied her face she could see the start of the dark circles under her eyes caused by insomnia that had begun again over the last few months and the dullish tinge to her skin where she hadn't taken care of it as well as she used to, the colour leaching from her as misery slowly overwhelmed her.
The warnings that she was in decline were there for others to see if only anyone cared to look closely enough but Hermione wasn't sure anyone did any longer. It had been a long time since she last posed enough of a threat for her friends to seriously worry about her and they had let down their guards.
As she lay in bed Hermione contemplated further the idea that had come to her earlier, trying to be rational about it and consider it from all sides rather than just latching onto it because it seemed like the perfect solution to her problems. Even if she put aside all considerations, whether positive or negative, she had to remember she was only going to have one shot and it might not happen anyway.
She tried to imagine what her mood would be like if that scenario came to pass and she shivered. Of all the things that could occur, trying and failing would be the worst thing that could happen. Better that she not try in the first place rather than build up her hopes only to have them dashed. Then, the darkness that the small pinprick of light had been holding at bay would overwhelm and smother her, taking her to a place from which she might not be able to return this time.
But if she succeeded, everything could be like before, as it was when she first had Sophie — the despondency and gloom pushed away indefinitely as the bright light of a new baby filled her with hope and a love so strong that she could rise above anything. Just thinking of the possibility was enough to give Hermione a boost and she preferred this more optimistic mood than anything she had experienced over the last few months.
Of course, disclosing to Sophie what was happening was the most important thing she would have to do and she would need to get it absolutely right, but Hermione was certain her daughter still yearned for a sibling even after all these years.
It was going to be hard to explain, though, especially as it might once again stir up Sophie's feelings about her father. She had never once mentioned him since their talk about the family picture she had drawn when she was four. Hermione had no idea whether Sophie still thought about him and hoped that he might one day return or had given up any expectation of ever getting to know him.
Whichever was the case, Hermione knew it was going to be difficult for Sophie to accept that her mother had seen her father but hadn't allowed her access to him. She wished she could explain, could tell her daughter the truth about why she wasn't willing to allow Lucius into their lives, but if she was honest, she was no longer entirely sure now why she hadn't told him about Sophie.
Undoubtedly, to begin with, it was because she had wanted to keep her daughter to herself, selfishly hoarding her in order to keep herself sane. There was no way she had wanted Lucius any further in her life than he already was, especially when a Half-blood child was involved. But by the time of her last visit things had begun to change between them, and knowing how Lucius felt about her Hermione now believed she was actually being kind to him by not mentioning that they had a child together.
At the time Sophie was born Lucius still faced another two decades in prison and Hermione had found herself imagining how she would have felt had she known her daughter existed but been unable to see her throughout the whole of her childhood. Having not mentioned it at the time, it was hard to admit what had happened when she saw him five years later, so the visit had passed with Lucius none the wiser about his part in Hermione's resurrection — which was just as she wanted it.
Returning in the hope that he might give her another baby without telling him what was happening was probably slightly unethical, but once again Lucius would be helping to stave off that which he had created in the first place — she would never have suffered years of depression if it hadn't been for him. But she couldn't tell him about a new baby without informing him about Sophie and she still had no intention of letting him into their lives, so that was a non-starter as far as Hermione was concerned.
She was still conflicted when she finally fell into a fitful sleep, her dreams full of arguments and recriminations.
By the time she awoke her mood had descended even further. Desolation overwhelmed her, so much so that she had trouble forcing herself out of bed, wanting nothing more than to curl up and hide from the pain that was eating her up from the inside-out.
However, she still had Sophie to look after, as always. This morning she had to take her daughter to an appointment with the dentist, an old habit from Hermione's Muggle life that she had never changed even though she and her daughter were no longer part of that world, before dropping her off at school, so they needed to get going shortly. Then she had to face the Weasley wives and another round of gossip.
Hermione forced herself out of bed and plastered on her happy face, ready to lie to the world once more.
