Recap:

"Draco? You're a sorry excuse for a witch," he hissed, grabbing her sharply by the throat. "Not only do you pry into my personal business, but you do it for money." She thought for sure he was going to hit her—and she was too stunned to try and get away. Instead he surprised her completely by yanking her forward for a rough, forceful kiss. Her lips burned when he pulled back, and she remained speechless. "You're nothing but a whore, and a bad one at that." He shoved her back and if she hadn't been anticipating it she would have fallen down the steps. "Get off my property. I never want you here again, for any reason."

The door slammed shut before she saw him leave, before she felt any emotion. And then, without warning, she burst into tears and ran from the Manor. Not Apparated, but ran, crying like the weak witch she'd become.

Chapter 11: When The Bough Breaks

"What happened?" Ron whispered as Harry shut them both out of Hermione's room, where she lay weeping, a piece of parchment clutched in her hand.

"Farsiris sent her a letter," Harry sighed.

"You mean she actually received this one?" For months they had been watching Hermione 'round the clock, ensuring her happiness and stability as best as possible. Farsiris had been writing her since the day after Draco banished her from the Manor.

"I wasn't there to stop the owl."

"It was your turn—"

"I have a job, you know! I have a life!"

Harry took a deep breath and gave his best friend an apologetic look they both knew too well. This was their life now, as trying as it might be. Hermione was their friend, their rock; without her they had nothing. They prayed everyday for peace with the arrival of the baby in a month's time.

"What did it say?"

"Enough that she knows we've been taking her mail." Harry leaned against the door and let out an agonized groan. Only yesterday they had eaten a wonderful dinner at Luna's flat with Ginny. All five of them got along famously, as if no rift had ever occurred. Luna was back to her normal self and she and Ron had been going on dates regularly. Everything had been looking so promising, with Hermione growing steadily, the baby inside her healthy. She was glowing all the time, her round belly and rosy cheeks only adding to her beauty.

Until today.

"This stress isn't good for her or the baby," Ron commented, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I'll curse Malfoy into the afterlife for this."

"You and me both."

Their eyes met and, silently, they agreed to do the only thing they hadn't tried yet to ease their friend's broken soul. They were going to Malfoy Manor.

All Harry and Ron could do was stare, their voices gone, as the beautiful child they knew to be Farsiris answered the door, her long black hair twisted into two braids and tied with pale yellow ribbons that matched her dress. She was gorgeous and they could not believe she shared half her genes with Draco Malfoy.

"Hello," she said, puffing herself up as if she were a small animal trying to appear larger and fiercer to an enemy.

"Hello dear," Harry said, crouching down to her level. "My name's Harry—"

"Potter?" Her little shoulders eased and her face fought to display the proper emotion. "You know Hermione?" she whispered, settling on sadness.

"Yes, she is a great friend of mine, and she misses you very much."

A flicker past Farsiris' eyes, yet no smile would grace her pursed lips.

"My father," she began, but stopped and said, "Are you here for my father?"

"It would be lovely if you told him we were here."

"Who is he?" Farsiris demanded, sounding too much like Draco, her tiny finger pointed almost accusingly at Ron.

"I'm Ron Weasley."

She made a lift of her eyebrows to show she knew his name, then disappeared without a word.

"Hermione needs to get back here," Ron said under his breath. "That child is certainly not the Farsiris Hermione described to us. She's too young to be so sad."

"That is why we're here, isn't it?"

"I'd offer you tea," Draco ground out, "but then that's only for welcome guests."

"Drop it, Malfoy," Harry spat. "We're here for Hermione and your daughter. It's not our fault you happen to be the cause of all their pain."

"How dare you insinuated that I would harm my daughter by choice!"

"She's miserable and you know exactly why!"

A heavy silence dropped over them and Harry fought to stay in his chair in the sitting room.

"Granger betrayed my trust. I have no use for her anymore."

"And your daughter?" Ron jumped in.

"What about her?"

"She misses Hermione. Clearly she needs her."

"And just what is that supposed to mean, Weasley? Farsiris was perfectly happy before Hermione decided to pry into our lives."

"Do you want her to end up bitter and angry like you?" Harry asked in all seriousness.

"Do you have any idea how upset Farsiris will be because of your little visit?" Draco countered with another question. "Get out of my house."

Before any of them could rise from their seats, however, their came a frantic knock at the front door. Draco stomped angrily from the room, not wishing his daughter to answer to any one else. Harry and Ron strained to hear who it was, but didn't have to try long. The voice shouting hysterically at Draco belonged to Ginny.

Both boys were in the foyer before they remembered standing, to find Ginny collapsed in tears in Draco's arms. He looked horrified and tried in vein to get her away. Harry obliged, sneering at his former Slytherin schoolmate.

"I've been…looking…everywhere for you," Ginny gasped between sobs.

"What's wrong?" Ron demanded, forgetting to put on his mask of calm.

"It's Hermione…She…She was rushed to St. Mungo's."

Everyone's face—including Draco's—paled of all color. It could only mean one thing.

"Farsiris!" Draco shouted, and not a moment later she was with them too. "Don't you dare try to stop me from coming," he snapped at Harry and the others. "As godmother to my child, I reserve the right to see her."

No one asked questions. They were only concerned with getting to Hermione as fast as possible.

The lobby of St. Mungo's was eerily quiet, only a few scattered witches and wizards with minor ailments; nothing life-threatening, nothing like what they were here for. Farsiris kept surprisingly quiet for a girl so young and confused, clinging to her father's hand as if it truly did make her feel better.

Ron rushed to the front desk, asking the witch there as calmly as he could what room Hermione Granger, G-r-a-n-g-e-r, was in. The witch smiled sadly and told him she could see no one right now because she was with the healers.

"Healers?" Ron asked, emphasizing the plural.

"I'm afraid so," the witch said solemnly, then returned to the rolls of parchment she'd been looking at before.

For nearly two hours the odd group sat in silence, every now and then jumping to their feet when a door opened or the sound of footsteps advanced upon them. Then, finally, a somber-looking wizard approached them, forcing a professional smile.

"Who is the father?" he asked, scanning the three eligible men. Ron stood and followed the wizard without a word. He was taken to a small room on the opposite side of the hall from the nursery. Hermione lay, fast asleep (and most likely under a spell) in the bed. Their child, a boy, lay in a sterile cradle, protected from the outside world with a shielding spell, for when Ron went to touch him he could go no further than within a foot.

"He's small," Ron commented, his brow furrowed. He didn't know what else to say. "Will he..." His words trailed off. He couldn't possible say what he was thinking.

"Miss Granger wanted me to tell you his name."

Ron's ears perked immediately.

"Arthur Sirius Weasley."

"After my dad," he whispered, his fingers pressed against the barrier between him and his son.

"We cannot be sure how long the child will survive," the wizard said, unable to keep the information to himself any longer. After all, as the father, Ron had a right to know. "Sadly, there is no chance of saving him. We've tried every spell and nothing seems—"

"Can I hold him?" Ron whispered. "Before he…Before he's gone."

"Of course."

"What about Hermione?"

"I can wake her if you'd like. She's very tired, but she would want to be awake I believe."

"Yes," Ron agreed. "She would."

The funeral was two days later, an unfittingly sunny and clear day. Hermione wore white, the only person to do so—the only person allowed such a privilege. She didn't shed a single tear, saying few words before tossing a single yellow rose onto her son's miniature coffin and walking away alone.

Only one person had the audacity to follow her.

"Hermione!"

"How dare you," she said under her breath. "Of all the—"

He pulled her to a stop over the crest of a small hill, the funeral hidden from view on the other side. Her skin was unbelievably pale and cold, all the former glow from pregnancy completely gone. And yet she still managed to look amazing.

"Come back to the Manor," he said, demanded, unable to bring a calming voice to the surface.

"Of course," she laughed bitterly, startling him. "That will make everything better, won't it? I won't miss my son anymore so long as I'm in your company."

"Hermione—"

"You have no right to use my first name, Malfoy. Leave me alone. It's my turn to tell you: I never want to see you again for any reason."

And then he said the worst thing possible.

"So you're denying Farsiris as your goddaughter?"

"You are worth nothing to me," Hermione cried softly, her voice strained and her cheeks wet with burning tears. "I gave you everything you never deserved, and this is how I'm repaid." She wrenched her arm free from Draco's hand. "You have a lot to learn about being a human being, Draco. More than you could possibly understand."

"Then help me," he said through his teeth, taking her by the arms.

"You don't have to grab me every time you want my attention."

He dropped his hands and sighed loudly.

"It's Farsiris, isn't it?"

"What?"

"That's why you're here. That's why you want me back, why you want my help. You're trying to be a good person for your daughter."

Angrily, solemnly, he nodded.

"I will come back—" She silenced him as he tried to interrupt her by placing a finger on his lips. "—on one condition."

He let it slip before he could stop himself: "Anything."

"I want to adopt Farsiris, make her by daughter legally."

"Granger! Have you lost all sense of reason!"

"Perhaps. But that's what I want. I will settle for nothing less. Considering the wealth of good it will do, I can't see a logical reason for you to refuse. After all, it has little to do with our relationship."

"About your son."

"Yes?" She was prepared for anything.

"I'm sorry."

Except that.

"Hermione we understand this is a stressful time, but—"

"I'm doing this whether I have your approval or not," Hermione snapped at Harry, and all the others who attempted to stop her on her way to the Manor, where she was to meet with Draco and his lawyer about adopting Farsiris. "I want nothing more than to have a child of my own, but obviously that isn't going to happen. I love Farsiris. I want to be her mother."

"But Hermione—"

"What Harry? What?"

"It's Malfoy!" he pleaded.

"All the more reason for me to do it. Harry," she sighed. "I can't profess to want to be a mother if I stand by and watch that little girl become corrupted by her father. Someone has to be there for her, someone trustworthy. She has such great potential. I can't let her life get ruined because of my qualms with her father."

"Qualms?" Ginny asked. "Hermione, they are more than qualms."

"Death Eater, ex-Death Eater. I don't care. Don't you see that? This is bigger than that!"

"If you're doing this just because of Arthur—" But Ron never finished his sentence as a hard blow knocked him off balance and into the nearest wall. Hermione stood, fuming, her knuckles white at her sides.

"How dare you use our son against me, Ron Weasley!"

"Hermione, please. I'm sorry. I just—"

"I know none of you could possibly understand why I have to do this. But I am. I won't let you stop me, for any reason."

"He killed his wife!" Ginny shouted, then clasped her hands over her mouth, horrified at her own words.

"Excuse me?"

"His wife," Ginny breathed, phenomenally sorry she'd said a word. "He killed her. I watched him do it, with her back turned…and then he acted as though he'd come to save her."

"You're lying," Hermione gritted through her teeth. "He wouldn't…He couldn't do that to Farsiris. He—"

"Loves her?" Ginny whispered. "Hermione, I'm sorry. I saw what I saw."

"And you never thought to tell me!"

"How could I have?" the youngest Weasley cried, her face red and wet. "I owe him my life, Hermione!"

"Well," Hermione sighed, for the time being having no sympathy for her friend, "now I have two reasons to adopt Farsiris. I don't want any of you here when I come home."

Look at me with another chapter all done for you all! Yay! And I really love this one too! Yes, all along I planned to not have the baby live, after all, how could I call this a Draco/Hermione fic if she and Ron had a baby? I know its sad and tragic, but it was intended all this time. Please don't be too mad, its for the greater good of the story.

As always…REVIEW!