This is the longest chapter yet. And there ended up being some things I wanted to address now rather than later that popped in first. but the action begins towards the end of this chapter. I just wanted to say that while there are still quite a few chapters remaining, we will be seeing the end of this soon.
Also, as chapters get longer, more tiny mistakes find themselves sneaking into my work. Keep in mind, I am writing this between 11 pm and 130 am, so cut me a tiny bit of slack. I was too tired to review it properly, and I wanted this out before tomorrow afternoon.
Disclaimer: I am not, nor could I ever wish to be, the magnificent JKR. The characters and concepts of this work herein are entirely the property of JKR and her publishers. I don't own rights, claim rights, or anything of the sort. You cannot sue me O.O Thank you. Enjoy.
Hermione placed her hand upon her tummy. Ron and she had stopped at a health clinic just after Valentine's day to look further into her predicament. She had hoped that it was just something small, a curable illness that would pass with time. Hermione ignored Ron's hints for nearly two weeks before he finally yanked her aside while Harry prepared some meat for dinner. It was Friday evening, which they had only known because Hermione had snuck into a home to clean and saw the BBC news, which displayed the date.
"I think you are pregnant." Hermione was even more confused than she had been each time he dropped hints. She had thought how was being pregnant even possible. She would have had to have gotten pregnant the first time, and she did not believe that her luck was such. Hermione shook her head at Ron who, shockingly, knew the symptoms of it. Once she hear him point each detail out, she became complacent.
When the test came back positive Ron let Hermione weep into his shoulders. She was devastated. It was a great thing, she knew, to be having a child. She could not shake the thought that she was so incredibly young, and only just married. Not to mention she was a pretty big player in the war, when she was blunt about it. Now was not an ideal time to be having a child! She was upset for days, but Harry hardly noticed. At the time he had been irritable over the war.
Here they were in the middle of March. Hermione was three months pregnant. Harry was becoming more and more irritable. Ron was simply growing more protective, more understanding, and quite a bit more helpful. It was interesting to reflect on how the three interacted anymore. Hermione and Harry never really got 'cozy' and Ron never spent more time speaking to Harry over Hermione, fearful it would rub someone the wrong way. It was an act of tip-toeing around everything by each of them.
Life with the Golden Trio was full of unease and caution.
Hermione sat up in the cot and realized she was alone. Harry had been sitting in the chair but moved outside, and was audibly discussing possible courses to figure out more on possible horcruxs. Ron recited many of the same details that Hermione reiterated when the debated it as a group. There was so little to go on, and hope was spread thing between the three of them. She looked to her beaded bag which had clothes waiting for her. It was chilly where they were staying, so it would be a gray knit sweater over a long sleeved black shirt, hoping to keep herself appearing thin. She could feel a slight weight gain, even if it wasn't visibly apparent yet. She would wear a pair of grey skinny jeans. She noticed how she went from light and bright colors to pastel colors over the years, and was now using neutral grays and darker shades of blues, reds, and purples. A lot of the time she included some sort of black clothing because she knew she needed to blend in. During dark times the only way to go unseen was dark colors.
Once dressed she joined the boys outside.
"I am glad you've finally woke. It's nice to see you getting some sleep. You were restless for a few weeks and barely got a chance to relax." Harry embraced her and planted beautiful and gentle kisses on her forehead. The nausea had finally evaporated from her daily life, but now the piercing hunger was starting to rear its ugly head. She remembered being told that between four and eight months she would gain the most weight, and since she was nearing each day to the time period her changes were also approaching. Hermione looked to her friend, who bushed his fingers through his hair. They had decided together that telling Harry she was pregnant would not be the best idea.
"I have just been exhausted. We've been on the run for a long time. Perhaps you should be getting more sleep yourself, you look quite unwell." Harry started to pack things up into piles. She had been expected him to dodge her statement. He had been fighting 'nightmares' infused from Voldemort. They rarely stated his name anymore. Back in early February it started creating panics for Harry, he would be furious, so it naturally stopped coming up in their vocabularly.
Voldemort, though, had been showing images about a boy stealing a wand. Harry recalled seeing an image of the boy in Bagshot's home, a memory that showed much more importance than they had ever expected it to. Hermione was through a large portion of the Dumbledore biography written by the filthy Rita Skeeter. Unfortunately, Hermione couldn't help but believe the things she red. It made sense to their deceased headmaster's personality.
It had helped her identify what it would be that Voldemort was seeking, too. She had known for some time that Dumbledore had won his wand in a duel from a wizard named Grendewald. Grendewald, from Harry's story shared with Viktor Krum, had been a very dark and evil wizard. And what she was gathering, based on the explanation Harry had acquired from Voldemort, the wand was stolen from Gregorovich. Gregorovich was their dead end, as Dumbledore's book had no mention of him in a significant enough manner for her to be positive that the wand played a significant role. Harry was always insisting that it was the a powerful wand, one of a kind. With that information in mind, Hermione almost thought it could be the Elder wand, which would be the last Deathly Hallow for Voldemort to locate. However, they didn't need to worry about the damn Hallows because it would have no place in the destruction of horcruxs. Unidentified horcruxs.
Hermione lurched forward a little, a strange heaviness dawning upon her. She turned to Ron who hurried Harry's attention to gathering things from inside the tent. She listened to the conversation between them.
"When I stopped in at Shell Cottage the other night to get new supplies from Bill they said Ginny and the family are doing great. Dad is a bit miserable and sickly. I hope we are coming to the end of this. I just want to see my family happy again." Ron's voice did not quiver as it usually would have when he spoke of his parents. He loved them so dearly. Hermione had come to an emotional realization that for Harry and Hermione returning and seeing their families was not an option. As for Ron, he knew he would be able to return to them if they lived. This made the possibility of death and incompleteness more frightening. He definitely had the worst burden of the three in regards to family and loved ones.
"I know you don't believe me, but I've always thought of your family as my own. I am just as tortured as you are, and I want to see them happy just as badly. I don't want to intrude on that relationship you have with them, you know." Hermione nodded. Harry had accidently called Molly and Arthur mom and dad often when Ron wasn't around. She never thought anything of it, but she understood why Harry didn't slip up in front of Ron. Ron would have gone mental.
"They think of you as a son too, a son that needs protecting. They want to give you love like they gave us growing up. They always thought it would give you a shot to fit in. But you never were headed down that path, were ya?" Chuckles filled the spaced between them as they hushed and slowly came back out of the tent with Hermione's beaded bag, ready to pack away the tent. Hermione was debating where they would head next. She had to pick some place that Ron could apparate to. They had no way of knowing if Hermione apparating herself with two extras was safe for the pregnancy, so Ron always took them places.
In the end, she figured he would choose a safe woodland area. He had seen enough in all the articles he had read in the entertainment media. Charlie had done a good job of making sure he had all sorts of magical creature news strew about the Burrow. Ron had to have spotted some place reliable.
"Are we ready then?" After the bag was knotted shut. Hermione had meant to cast a spell to cloak the different items she needed to be protected from the eyes of their enemies, in the even that they would get caught. However, she also did not feel it was completely necessary on that day. Perhaps she was more occupied with how this pregnancy would change their lives, and all of those changes revolved around their success in ridding the world of Voldemort's horcruxs.
The three took one another's hands and jolted into the air as Ron identified where they were next headed. Hermione did not let her mind focus on how uncomfortable apparating had become, but rather on how quickly she could cast their protective spells before she was allowed to eat. She was starving, which she had somehow only just realized at that moment.
Her feet crashed against the ground and her clumsiness sent her tumbling over a small hill. She tucked the beaded bag into her front pocket, or at least as much as it would fit. She lifted her arms to begin the incantations when Harry spoke.
"Do you think Voldemort is as predictable as he seems? I mean he enjoys showing rather boldly his power over those lesser than him. What are some things that might show how loyal he is the Dark Arts?" But before anyone could respond there was snaps all around them. Ron was the first to start moving, recognizing them almost as quickly as Hermione had. The Snatchers had finally caught up with them. Harry was just behind them, and together they managed to nearly pass Ron entirely. They tried to slick close, but still go through brush to lose them. Scabior and Fenrir, though, were men to be reckoned with. They had Ron in less than five minutes. Harry and Hermione continued to run with full understanding Ron would rather see them go than get caught. Especially since he knew Hermione's condition!
Hermione's feet slammed and pattered against the cold earth that was still adjusting to the slowly climbing temperatures. She just barely missed a soft patch of ground that fell inward that would have sent her tumbling. She felt her lungs screaming in pain to her, silently begging to stop and rest. She could not stop for even a second. Lives, not just her own, depended on it. Suddenly…
…Harry was howling in pain, landing into a pile of sharp rocks and branches. She halted in response, demanding her feet to take her back. They ached and she wanted to cry in pain. She saw the Snatchers approaching at a slow walk. Instead of trying to run any more, or apparate with Harry by herself she stood in front of him, pulled her wand out just enough that she could alter Harry's appearance without being seen. She cast a purposeful Stinging Hex at Harry's face.
"I'm so sorry. I love you. Oh my god, I love you." Her whisper was just barely finished by the time Scabior slammed his hands into the back her head. He pulled her long hair, wrapping his fingers around it and tugging as fiercely as possible. She screeched a muffled sound through the hand he now cupped over her mouth. Fenrir pointed to Ron and ordered his identity.
"S-stan shunpike." He managed but he was clicked punched by one of the other members of the Snatcher group. Blood erupted from his cheek where skin torn against the man's studded gloves. Hermione squinted her eyes and though hard. They were after muggle-born individuals. She had to think fast, who would she know that they might not be familiar with and would not make it reasonable for them to take them. She had to hurry .Her mind was all over the place. Susan Bones? No, no, her aunt had worked in the Ministry for years. They would never believe her name was Parvarti Patil. What about….Penelope Clearwater? Yes, yes, she shouted to herself inside. Penelope Clearwater was a half-blood whom dated Percy at Hogwarts. She had known only because of Ginny. She forced emotion back down to her toes, in a mental sense, waiting for them to point to her.
"What about this ugly one?" Scabior felt it safe enough to expose Hermione's mouth. She felt his nail scratch her chin when he pulled his hand away. She did not allow herself to flinch. Her eyes all but shone a bright light upon Harry as she was left to make up a name himself.
"Vernon. Vernon Dudley." Harry was clearly in pain and Hermione wanted to collapse and cry. This was awful, and she knew that it was going to come. This was something that was going to have to happen in the long run. They knew it, they agreed to it. They had at some point thought this was would be a plan to gain more information.
"This one says he's a Weasley, he's a pureblood, that's for sure." Fenrir growled at the man who interrupted the ongoing conversation identifying Harry. He stumbled backwards a little. He slapped Ron's face around a little. Hermione's legs buckled beneath her when Scabior was called forward to look at Harry a little closer. She honed in on the mutters they bounced back and forth.
"Look at him, don't he look familiar?"
"Who are ya thinkin' Greyback?"
Silence washed over for no more than three seconds, but it was the most still absence of sound Hermione had found herself admist in ages. She could already foresee the disaster coming forth with this. They knew, and they quite well.
"I think we should take him to Lestrange. He is more important than the Ministry fodder." Scabior returned to Hermione who was on her hands and knees in a wet mess of mud and dead leaves remaining from the winter. He lifted his boot to her cheek and pushed her head back at an angle that was so painful she nearly couldn't keep herself quiet.
"Who are you, missy? You smell a bit familiar." How could Hermione managed to smell exactly the same as she had when she feared being caught when they first set out. She trembled until he was face to face with her, him holding her chin in place. The eye contact he made did not seem fearsome at first, but when he reached to her chest and unbuttoned her sweater she was overcome by irrationality.
"I am a half-blood! Penelope Clearwater! You don't need us, we are clear." She lied to them, aware that the consequences could likely be fatal. She should have been more careful, she wanted to be more careful. But she also wanted Harry to succeed in their mission to save the world.
"We are taking these ones to the manor, fellas." Ron struggled, which landed him a burst of pain from his captor as he cast a silent charm on him. Blood stained his clothes everywhere on his upper body and Hermione couldn't really see where he was injured. She only hoped he would be safe, as safe as he could be.
Harry disappeared first with Fenrir, Ron next, the various solo Snatchers following. That left Scabior alone with Hermione for only a few minutes, but it was a struggle regardless of the short time limit. Scabior continued to remove her jacket and Hermione fussed, pushing his arms away and moving her body to kick him off.
He was strong, and Hermione had almost no muscle to defend herself appropriately. He used his naisl to drag them down her neck and over her chest, snagging the material and leaving scratches over her skin. Hermione wriggled beneath his grasp. He tossed her jacket aside and titled her backwards, she felt akin to a human rainbow. She reached to her stomach and flung herself flat to the ground. Whatever it took, she would not let him harm her unborn child.
His fingers strangled her wrist and they were soon in an oblivion headed to the only place she knew a Lestrange could be found. Malfoy Manor. Hermione landed with Scabior only the be drug behind him as if she were a raggedy doll he was preparing to throw away. She was surprised to see Harry and Ron walking on their own feet several yards in front of them. She should have cooperated more. Now she must have looked as though she were hiding something.
Once through the doors they were met by Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. They looked at the mangy men as they presented each of the three individuals in a line to them. Narcissa seemed to show little interest, dodging the eyes of the trio and humming to herself almost inaudibly. Bellatrix, though, she was on Ron and Hermione instantly.
"These two, who are they?" She was standing at Ron, hand pulling his hair to expose his full bloody face, but flaring at Hermione. She knew she had to be recognizable. Bellatrix had seen them before.
"The boy claims to be a Weasley relative. This one says she is a miss Penelope Clearwater. I don't trust her, though." Lestrange and Scabior's evil laughs entrapped them with the realization that this very possibly could be the end of their lives. It would not take but two, maybe three minutes, to place their real names and acknowledge they had Harry Potter in their presence. The only thing worse than being turned into the Ministry was being taken directly to Voldemort.
"What about 'im? Why did you bring 'im here? You must have a good reason!" She spoke in loud screams, which sent chills through Hermione's body. Harry twinged as Fenrir pulled hair back. Hermione could only assume the scar did not distort well enough to be entirely unrecognizable.
"Let us get Master Draco, he will know who these foul creatures are. Draco!"
They were gathered in a general living area, there were chairs around the edges of the room and a small stairway leading down to a lower level the house, offering an overview assumedly. The other set of stairs was hiding by a door left ajar. Hermione did not hear sounds coming from it, but she did not expect that there weren't prisoners down there. Bellatrix was shouting at Draco to take his time and properly identify the trio.
"He is a Weasley for sure. You can't mistake that red hair." He did not speak with malice, or even with the intent to frame each of them as their proper selves. He was shackled by a weak tone of voice, and appeared to be shattering from the pressure of being a Death Eater. He seemed as good as dead. He did not even try to behave with enthuse.
"She is completely disarrayed but she looked like a Gryffindor. I don't know Penelope Clearwater as she was several years ahead of me. I can't be positive whether this is she." Hesitation poured of Draco's features as he was now faced with Harry Potter. Even with a damaged expression, Draco was going to know that this was Harry Potter in front of him. She waited for him to out the trio, she could see the tiredness in him, the lack of motivation to even live anymore, but she knew his sort of loyalty. He was alike Harry in the fact that he was doing what he thought was right for his family's protection. He was none too different than they were, only he was on the wrong side.
"Is it him, Draco? We have to sure. We don't want to call the Dark Lord here if we aren't positive, you know." But in the end Draco shook his head after several minutes.
"I don't know. I just can't tell. He's all messed up." Bellatrix dismissed Draco to the other room, asking that he wait for a few minutes.
"We have other ways of dealing with this misbehavior."
Just then Hermione's bag slid from her pocket onto the floor. She felt her eyes grow wide as Scabior threw her to the ground. She felt her a muscle tear beneath the surface. She hoped to see life after this so that she may properly fix it. Fenrir pointed to Hermione and another man replaced Scabior, who was now emptying the contents onto the floor. First came books and clothes, followed by potion ingrediaents and food. The invisibility cloak manages to go unseen but that may have been because of the sword of Gryffindor sliding into eyesight.
"SEND THOSE TWO BOYS DOWNSTAIRS! I MUST HAVE A TALK WITH THIS YOUNG LADY! ITS GIRL TALK!" Echoing through the manor was her high pitched vocal expression of excitement. It was not even enough alike a scream to classify it as so. Hermione thought of it as a war call. She found herself now against Bellatrix, her wand being confiscated as she is ushered to the center of the room. She wanted to touch her belly once more, in case she lost her child…in case she lost her life, but she did not have enough time to consider it but five seconds.
Pain battered her body, sending her collapsing to the wooden floors of the manor. Her lip split wide open and a pool of blood was the first sign that her torture was going to begin.
Heads up, I am thinking about writing the next chapter from Harry's POV. It will only be for one chapter. But I want to know how you feel about it.
Or maybe two short chapters from both, perhaps? What do you think?