Chapter XI:

The first half of the holidays went pretty well, if she did say so herself. Draco managed not to insult her parents or worse, her in front of her parents, although she saw him struggle a couple of times. It was rather hilarious to watch him ward off the demon in the box, as he called the TV, or to listen to his warnings, face dead serious, that in his expert opinion the rumbling and scratching emanating from the room containing the washing machine was probably a ghost. The way they managed to avoid any major arguments was by mostly talking about the baby. Her parents had plenty of practical and emotional tips. When they had to leave at the end of the first week of half term her parents gave her a smarties Easter egg and Draco an aero one. Perhaps a little passive aggressive jab, but he didn't notice, just seeming stunned and touched instead. Promising that they would come visit soon, but having no clue when soon might be, she took in her parents' features like a permanent imprint as she placed her hand on her husband's inner arm and felt her home disintegrate into his, gripping onto him.

The Malfoys didn't have any Easter eggs for them. Unlike Christmas, they didn't celebrate it. She wasn't sure whether that was a pure-blood thing or a them thing, because Mrs Weasley always sent a package of beautifully home-decorated Easter eggs, but perhaps she'd been inspired by her husband's love of muggle culture. Either way, they had better believe this house would be full of chocolate for her kid to indulge on at this time of year if she had any say in it. She spent most of her time at the manor revising for the upcoming exams, but one afternoon Narcissa asked her to take a break to come garden with her. Hermione had never been in the back garden before, but she supposed she shouldn't be surprised that it wasn't really a garden. More of a fabulously eccentric park. There were fountains in the shape of wands spewing water like magic, endless plots of flowers and peacocks strutting across the grounds as proudly as their owners did. Trimmed hedges on either side of her served as statues to Malfoys present and past, leading towards a grand green maze. It was all so ridiculous that she could barely keep her laughter in.

When they were a good distance from the manor, Narcissa bent down and began to pull out a weed, gloves on of course, splattering mud all over her pristine pale blue dress anyway. She brushed it off easily enough and said in a low tone. "Things are about to get a lot more difficult for you Hermione." She said it in such a casual tone that it took the younger witch a moment to realise she hadn't just commented on the weather or her outfit. Was it a threat, a warning? The delivery had been so bland she couldn't tell. "My husband may have recognised the necessity for a half-blood child, but that doesn't mean he will readily accept it when it appears as true flesh and blood."

"Nec-?" Oh. Of course. What did Lucius desire above all else? Power and influence. What was the way to get that in the Wizarding World? Through the Ministry. What stance did the current Ministry support? Equality and the marriage law. So it stood to reason that if Lucius supported these then he could regain a high ranking position and once more have power in the government and legislative. What Draco had said a couple of months ago about his father trying to protect and advance the family's interests made so much more sense, but it wasn't true. The only interests he cared about were his own.

Narcissa turned to her with a smile that didn't fit the situation. "I fear that he will be excessively harsh to the child." Hermione glanced briefly toward the manor and thought she saw a fleeting figure watching them.

"Thank you for the warning Mrs Malfoy," she nodded gratefully.

"Young lady, a word please." Hermione objected heartily to being called 'young lady', but she supposed it was better than filthy slag, although the inflection made it sound on a similar level. Cautiously she stepped into Lucius' office. They'd never been alone in a room together and she had an impending sense of dread and fear that made her feel powerless; an emotion she did not like to feel in the slightest.

He didn't ask her to be seated, despite lounging in a chair behind his desk with a glass of red himself. She hovered uncertainly in front of it, happy to stand if it meant that she could get away faster. Sitting down seemed to indicate a longer conversation. "The bairn in your belly grows by the day," he observed, unimpressively. That was generally how pregnancies worked. "It's time we had a discussion about how this child will be raised."

She narrowed her eyes. "Isn't that something Draco and I should be having a 'discussion' about?"

"Draco knows what I expect of him!" He snapped. "You do not." He had his wand out and was tapping it periodically on the desk like a cane, making her cringe. Wands were supposed to be prized possessions, not weapons of torture to toss about casually. "Firstly, your muggle parents." He sneered. "They will be permitted to visit the manor once a month whilst I am out, as I suppose it is the lesser of two evils; easier to bleach out the smell of mud from the house than from the brain of an indoctrinated child." She bristled. What type of hurtful propaganda did he think her parents dealt in? Or was it just the mere prospect of muggle culture making this half-blood any less wizard than it already was? "Second, the name will be chosen from a list of approved options." She was ready to argue that they'd already decided on names, but he plowed right on like a destructive wildfire. "The child will be fed by the same nanny who did the same for Draco-"

At this, she could no longer hold on her protests. "It is my choice whether or not to feed my child, and I choose to do so, we already have names, and my parents will see my baby whenever they bloody well want to!" She was red in the face and breathless, but he didn't seem impressed by her passion. Instead his face twisted into disgust, he placed his wine down and stood up, pointing his wand at her.

"Crucio." Her bones felt like they snapped, twisting and crying out, but she didn't even care for her own pain. How was this affecting her baby? Lucius strolled around the desk, keeping his wand and his eyes pointed at her the whole time to ensure maximum focus and suffering. "You are nothing. You will obey your superior, vulgar mudblood." He brought his wand up and yanked her shirt up at the same time, so that she realised the marks on Draco's back were the same length as his father's wand. She was in so much agony she couldn't fight it remotely, couldn't even imagine where her own wand was or fathom rolling out of the way as an option. She clenched her eyes shut weakly but no scars would form on her back. Instead a raging hurricane flew into the room, blasting his father back with a light defensive spell they'd learnt as eleven year olds.

"Expelliarmus!" Malfoy Sr's wand flew into his son's open palm, abruptly ending her torture. Gasping, she stumbled away for him, grateful that the shock had made him release her shirt so she could do so. From behind Draco, she watched as he stood up to his father for the first time. "You will not hurt her," he hissed venomously. "I won't let you."

"You will not give me imperatives in my own house boy!" Lucius roared.

Draco grabbed her hand and spat out, "very well." He pulled her out of the room and up the stairs, but the dragging didn't feel so laboured and angry as it used to, at least not anger directed towards her. He paused outside his room, doubtless not wanting to take her back into the room where things had really crumbled for them, and dropped her hand. "Go pack," he barked out the order.

Her eyebrow furrowed. "Wha-?"

"We're getting out of here. Right now." He disappeared into his own room, and so she did the same, feeling slightly safer there than out on the open landing.

Hermione was doing up the locks on her trunk when she heard the door open and whipped around with her wand outstretched and a curse on her lips. She wouldn't say which one; that might get her in trouble with the law, but suffice it to say that it wasn't necessary.

"Bloody hell Gra-" he stopped himself. "Didn't know you had it in you." He helped her do up the last buckle as she asked where they were going. In response he just put a finger to his lips and pointed downwards.

"What about your mother?" She asked. "Aren't you going to tell her?"

"I'll send her an owl when we arrive," he said. Honestly she was just surprised that he was willing to go this far, to turn against the father he had always seemed to idolise- for her. He hadn't told Lucius to stay away from the baby, he'd told him to stay away from her. Draco offered her his arm and she clung onto it, thankful that the family could apparate from inside the house so they didn't have to walk past Lucius to get outside the gates, and confident that wherever he was taking her geographically, it would be to safety.

AN: Yay: finally out! How will Lucius respond?