Mermaids Lair
She was ready for whoever triggered the Port-Key. Her bulged belly was protected by the back of the couch, wand at the ready. Spells ran through her mind in rapid succession.
Expelliarmus, Stupefy, Confringo, Confundo, Expelliarmus, Impedimenta, Incendio, Stupefy, Petrifcus Totalus.
The vibration started. Whoever they were, they were close.
She aimed her wand at the floor where they'd land. The clear glass bottom would freak them out, so close to their exit from the Port-Key. It gave her a second ahead of her opponent, and she'd use it wisely. All evidence of Draco's existence was hidden away from the place and tucked secretly into the satchel at her side beneath her robes. With the extension charm inside, it'd take them years to find it amongst her things.
The satchel was packed weeks ago. She partially expected it to be her go-bag for the birth of her child. It was filled with all the essential materials she'd need for the birth along with the care of her child for a month. Nappies, nipples, bottles, clothes, blankets, a sterilizing apparatus for all the equipment. Plus, an endless supply of potions and ointments to get through even the worst of teething periods.
Around her neck she wore the golden chain that Draco had given her. A wedding band, especially of Malfoy family heritage, was too dangerous to wear for the pair of them. Neither wanted the wrong crowd to catch wind of their union. Information was leverage.
Any leverage was defeat in a war.
In recent weeks she felt that the war was closer than she previously believed. Draco's withdrawn and emotional behavior alerted her to the disruption of normalcy, the panicked way he rushed back to check on her and hug himself close to her engorged stomach furthered the anxiety. Something was wrong. Draco was apart of the dark world. And if he was so effected, it had to mean a great many things were coming.
The satchel was apart of the decision to prepare herself for the hard road up ahead.
She hoped it would last until the birth since Draco needed to be apart of the one good thing in his life that might change everything. He prided himself so much with the life of his son.
But if it wasn't to be, she'd do what she had to. Their child wasn't going to be a victim of their choices and mistakes. Staying together was the most reckless decision she'd ever made. She risked her love's life everyday for her selfish inability to leave him alone. A life alone made him so eager for love that he'd put himself at the end of Voldemort's wand if it meant to be with her.
Hermione blinked back tears. A blinding green light and Draco's lifeless body crumbled upon a floor.
No. She wouldn't risk his life. Leaving was her only option.
That was when the contractions started the day before. They were weak at first. Just gentle cramps of the belly. Nothing different than the monthlies. However, they reared their ugly head sometime in the night. They'd turned into full body waves of immeasurable pain.
Still, her wand remained steady in hand.
The visitor was so close now. Their entrance was seconds away. Who knew how many came to murder her? Who knew if she'd even make it out alive?
Fish of the lake twitched around the lair. Her magic radiated from inside the lair drawing their senses close. Some noses bumped against the glass gently like the pattering of rain as another contraction ripped through her.
She grasped the couch with her one free hand, gritted her teeth and allowed the low pain to tear through her calm like a man-eating shark through her privates. Pressure came so soon. Her lips released breath in a tiny gasp.
Suddenly, a trickle came out of her. Her bare toes became coated in the slick, slivery liquid of her womb.
"Oh, Merlin, please no." She muttered aloud. "This can't be happening."
The baby was coming. Soon.
The Port-Key spat out a dark figure, who landed on their feet. She cursed herself for the distraction and steadied her gaze. Her wand twitched with the power of her magic objectified to her pain. It would blow them into oblivion if she wanted. The pregnancy made her stronger than ever before.
"Psst. Granger!" The voice called out from the dusty cloud. "Time to go!"
Her eyes bulged as he stepped forward without a care that he was three shades lighter from all the layers of ancient dust.
"Blaise? What on Earth are you doing? I nearly hexed you!"
He walked at a hearty clip. Not caring to brush himself off or make a snarky quip about her aim or appearance or an unannounced visit without her husband.
However, it wasn't his demeanor that frightened her knees to trembling. His eyes. They were rimmed red, watery a bit. The black-brown wasn't steady. They were wide and vulnerable.
Something happened.
"Granger." He held her arms firmly. "We have to get you out of here. Get your things. Now."
Her knuckles turned white against her wand. "Why? Somethings happened. I can tell. Is it Draco? Is he dead?"
"No, but he will be when he gets here and finds us. Come on. There is no time to explain. Get your things. I'll help you. Where's your case? Throw everything to me, I'll shrink it in. Take anything and everything."
His wand swirled in a circle and all her belongings of the lair raised in the air. Their bodies floated in a heavenly line and lowered themselves onto the bed. He started searching high and low. Under the bed, in a cupboard, in the loo?
"He's not here, if that's what you're thinking," she stated blandly.
"I'm looking for a trunk. Granger, am I not being clear? We've got to move. Go on."
She shook her head. "I'm not leaving Draco until you tell me what's going on."
Her friend did not care for her indignation. It was clear by the way his jaw set to frustration and he threw down a crumbled shirt onto the bedspread. His dark fingers made quick work of folding it instead, breathing slower and slower with each peaceful motion until he was able to look at her again.
"You really don't want to know," he answered softly. "Don't make me haul you out of here with nothing. Please, Granger. Just do this."
"Tell me!"
He startled at her voice. Blaise was not often surprised or taken aback by anything she did. He had once said she was so shockingly predictable that even falling for Draco was in her repertoire because of her 'bleeding need to save something'. It made her husband seem like a bird with a broken wing rather than the dragon that Draco truly was, fiery breath and all.
Of course, he was a Slytherin. Blaise reigned in his emotion. The look drained away to a blank slate of soft ebony skin, slated dark eyes, and a mouth that always boasted indifference.
He stepped closer now, approaching her like a wild animal is by a trained capturer. Hermione raised her wand to him. His steps stopped.
"Go on. You're going to hex me? That's not like you," his silky voice said.
Her eyes narrowed, although the quaking in her belly warned her that soon she'd be incapacitated.
"Blaise Zabini, you will tell me right now or I will rewrite your memories."
He gasped, retracting his arms. "You wouldn't!"
Pleased with herself, she calmly smiled. "Oh, wouldn't I? Would you like to find out?"
"This is a time sensitive issue, Granger. We need to go."
The riptide started. Her sensitive lady parts burned with fire as she gripped the cushion of the couch with all her might. Strands dug beneath her fingernails as bits of the fabric shredded, faint lines of white stuffing poked through.
Another gush fell from her womb onto the floor.
Blaise stepped closer, suddenly aware at the puddle on the floor. "Holy shit. Wha-wha- what is that?"
"Oh Lord, tell me that you know what a baby looks like!" She screamed. It wasn't truly frustrating, but she was unable to do anything to scream through the contraction. "You prat!"
"Sure, take that tone with me and see who is fist deep pulling that thing out of there."
Hermione's eyes snapped open. "You will do no such thing!"
"Who else is going to when you're on the run?" He gestured to the rest of the flat. "Please, let him step forward and take one for the Quidditch team."
She groaned. Labor was not the time to mention that damned game. It was hard enough to listen to it when Draco rambled on about anything and everything Quidditch but during a time of natural torture? Oh no. It was not happening.
Tears formed in her eyes as she exhaled. "Just. Tell. Me. Is. Draco. Dead."
"What? No. He's alive." He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "It's just that… well, he let a bunch of Death Eaters in the castle and killed Albus Dumbledore and is probably a Death Eater himself and is probably going to come here to bury himself inside you for eternity and nothing will get won out there."
Her mind went blank. The pain. The baby ripping through her insides like a hungry parasite. The body was slowly dying of exhaustion.
Draco's a Death Eater. How hadn't she known?
Why hadn't he told her?
Hermione wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. Her husband! A Death Eater! A mindless minion of an evil dictator! Father of her child!
"NO."
She weeped at the realization of just how far he'd been in, how inescapable his fate was and just how little she'd be able to help him by his side. The war would proceed. Voldemort would try to conquer. Poor Harry and the Order would try to fight the best they could. But without her, how would they fare? Who would regulate Ron's impulsive nature and need for vast amounts of food? Who would help Harry sort through his wildly scrambled thoughts that he shared with Voldemort?
Her friends would die as she stayed in comfortable safety with the love of her life and their child. A destiny she'd never forgive herself if she saw the light of that day.
"Holy Salazar. Granger, is that blood? Blood. Is that normal? There's so much blood." Blaise pointed between her thighs.
A steady line of bright red trickled out onto the glass floor. The clear blue water faded to crimson as her blood grew from a small pool to an ocean, overtaking her feet, staining a line against all the flesh it touched.
Blood was normal, but not in that amount. It was too much. Way too much.
"No. No, it's not."
Blaise grabbed hold of her elbow and shifted her weight onto him. "We've got to take you to St. Mungos. I don't know how to deliver a baby, Granger. I thought I'd just play a Keeper, waiting for it to come to me."
"No. They can't know. What if they find the records?" She grunted through another contraction that felt much, much worse. "Draco could be hurt. No. I've got to go home."
"Home? Like home-home?"
She nodded.
Dr. and Dr. Granger were licensed dentists, tenders of Muggle teeth, thus they were required a steady set of medical training, such as labor and delivery. Granted, it was not ideal. The two who brought her into the world were going to see her legs splaying open and split in half as her own child is born to the world. Not to mention she's on the run from a dark wizard and a blood war.
Blaise being present would also make matters tense. He was, after all, mates with her husband. A very product meant to hate her heritage.
Annnnnnddddd, there was another secret there that she hadn't shared with a single person.
However, her concern was delayed when they appeared at her parent's door with a line of blood up to their step. They pulled her inside the house with open arms, questions aplenty. Blaise subtly motioned his wand, and scrubbed the cobblestone walk clean of all remnants of Hermione's leaking insides.
Muggles hated blood. It scared them to see it on the street.
"Oh my…Hermione Jean! What happened?" Dr. Granger pulled out a black towel and set it between her daughter's legs. She bent down and suddenly realized the nature of the visit. "Oh hunny. Is that what I think it is?"
Hermione gritted her teeth. Sweat poured down her neck. "Yes. My husband's child. Please, Mum. I'm going to bleed to death."
"Hermione Jean! Husband? What, when did this happen?" A giant man with brown curls to match Hermione's barreled in past his daughter and gripped Blaise's shoulder. "You married my daughter and got her pregnant? Don't you two know the value of school and not, doing that?"
The other Dr. Granger groaned. "Let him go, Richard. There is no time! Hermione's right. She's losing blood."
"He's not my husband for Christ's sake," Hermione cried as she clamped down on her mother's hand and bent her knees wide.
"Sir, please. I am just a friend who wanted her safe," Blaise stated. "I would never marry Hermione without your permission."
Hermione glared over at him. "Not the time for brown nosing, Blaise. Not the bloody time."
The matron of the house stood, sharp green eyes landed on her subjects. She was a dainty woman with ashy blonde waves, narrow hips unfit for a mother, and a general air of superiority. It made her a force to be reckoned with; a hurricane by the name of Elenor Granger.
Her boney finger lifted to a point. "You two. Towels. Hot water. Scissors. Nasal Syringe from Madison's room. A plastic sheet for the bed. And so help me, if you two are going to argue, I will toss you out on your rumps."
The room was prepped and ready in no time, with both men too frightened to go against the boss, and Hermione was placed on the bed to labor. The plastic sheet crinkled with every move she made.
Lots of red coated the room. The color drained from her face as she pushed harder with each passing moment. Her lips were cracked and red as she bit down to prevent the cries. Blaise held her hand tightly with each wave of pain. She twitched beneath his touch, shaking uncontrollably from pain Blaise assumed.
There was a pause in the commotion where a set of eyes landed in his with deep pleading. For what? To end it all? For support? To do something? Blaise wasn't sure, but he knew it was a plead he couldn't give in to. She had to be strong and stick it through. Damp curls clung to her cheeks over her eyes. He brushed them away.
It was a moment where a father should have been present. It was Draco's right to be there in her broken moment to give her strength. He was just a friend. One that was lost amongst the blood and pushing.
Blaise was tossed out of the room when Hermione's screams became frantic and things turned sullen in her parent's eyes. He retreated out to the sitting room without a single thing to do but worry.
If Hermione died, his best friend would never forgive him for taking her away. Even if it was to safety. Draco was violently protective of his wife and would feel personal betrayed by the action of his childhood friend in a nature that seemed competitive. It was Draco's job, as he saw it. Hermione was his responsibility. Her safety laid solely upon his shoulders.
Blaise swore a number of explicit words at the situation. Dumbledore was gone. Hogwarts seemed fallen without their leader. His best friend was apart of a movement that was soul-consuming. And his other friend was on her death bed because of the news. He was sure of it.
Draco's betrayal was her ending.
The sitting room was a small room off to the left of the entrance with a welcoming aroma of powered sugar. Pale pink wallpaper colored the walls matched by the carpet. A false wooded fireplace flickered little orange flames behind a dense layer of clear glass. Blaise walked through with great interest, happy at the distraction. He had never spent time with Muggles. Their world was so odd.
Pictures didn't move, for one.
Golden frames boasted a happy family with a young bright-eyed girl that he knew as Granger. She grinned with her ridiculous buck teeth sticking through pink lip gloss. Both her parents shared the same smiles with wrinkled eyes and dimples in their pale cheeks.
There was another one with Granger at a later time. She was grown now. A teenager looking much like how he met her for the first time.
Dead center through black stood Granger, a naked infant in her arms. Perhaps it was a sibling?
However, by quick glance, there was tiny wisp on top of the baby's head that caught his gaze. The fuzzy hairs stuck to her jumper with a distinct color Blaise would recognize anywhere.
He stalked through the house until he stumbled upon a room filled with toys. It was a child's room in pale green room filled with stuffed dragons and all sorts of magical creatures. A giant poster of a knight fully dawned in shiny silver armor as it battled a red dragon with thick flames licking at a shield rested over head of a single bed pushed in the corner.
An easel rested in the other corner. It boasted a well-drawn image of something he recognized. A doxy. Biting fairies with a venom meant to harm, and teeth used liberally.
There was a line of similar painting along one wall. All creatures he learned about in school. Nifflers. Bowtruckle. Hippogriff. That picture was painted as an angry creature, wings spread wide with narrowed eyes.
"Do you like it?" A little voice asked from the bed.
Blaise turned in surprise. He hadn't noticed a sleeping silhouette but now it showed in the dim of the room. A little body, snuggled below layers of thin cotton blankets and a slippery flat sheet, emerged from beneath the protection. Two pale feet dropped to the ground carefully, avoiding the set of multi-colored blocks in a pile near.
A length of pale hair fell past her shoulders in a style that Granger often sported: a French braid.
Despite the round chubby face of youth, a distinct set of features emerged in blaring recognition. A set of big warm brown eyes filled with sparkles, the nose of an aristocrat turned up slightly, beyond white flesh stretched across a pair of high cheekbones and the fullest set of pink lips he'd ever seen on a child.
Blaise glanced back at the drawing on the easel, now impressed that a girl so small painted so well. It was talent. Defined and highlighted, even. It deserved an award.
"I do," he said softly. "It is very accurate."
The little girl's eyes lit up wide. "You've seen a Doxy?"
She smiled with excitement beaming up at him with such admiration. A sudden pride blistered his chest. He'd never been comfortable with young children before. They weren't so easy to charm. He was 'weird' to them. But the offspring of a friend made him ever more touched that they naturally connected.
He kneeled to her level, eyes able to look at one another like equals.
"I have. Many times, in fact. Your…well, my best friend's house used to get them all the time," he stated.
A book on the table flipped open on its own. Blaise gaped as the pages turned and turned until it finally halted. On the page in brilliant color was a full-grown Doxy as it climbed through a vertical length of fabric.
Of course, Granger had a child that was brilliant beyond her years. Just like her mother.
"Were they in the drapes?" She beamed through sleepy eyes. Bits of crust lurked in the corners of her eyes. "That's their favorite spot. It's warm because of the sun. They can't go in the sun, did you know? The drapes help them stay warm."
Blaise couldn't help but find himself dazzled. "Yes. They loved the drapes. One was so overwhelmed with them that it broke in half."
The book flipped close with a hard thud.
Wizards and witches weren't able to control their powers until well into their childhood, starting at Hogwarts at age eleven. It was too unpredictable. Some were too weak at that age. Even with a conduit like a wand, their emotions and magic were too wild to try to control. Bouts of accidental magic were common, of course. It was how Muggleborns were discovered by their powerful surges of magic in areas not associated with using.
This girl was only three, and she perfected wandless magic. Wandless! That was unknown in the magical world. Dumbledore didn't even use wandless magic and he was the most decorated wizard of all time.
Though the question came to Blaise's mind as the girl stared back at him with studious eyes. Her existence was completely unknown to him. He suspected that was the point. But the fact that Draco revealed many private things to him over the course of their bonding without a single mention of being a father already.
The man was thrilled when news of Hermione's current pregnancy came along. It was his son. His heir. He'd created a life he always wanted with a witch he worshipped in a way that was unfitting to his honor. It was, at one point, impossible to get him to stop talking about it like a miracle. Then things turned dark as they always did with him. His excitement turned to worry and distraught thoughts.
During the year his friend turned to a ghost of himself. Initially Blaise believed it to be Hermione's absence and lack of sex that made Draco on edge. Current events forced him to reconsider that the mission from You-Know-Who was the actual cause of Draco's misery. Sulking and secretly disappearing at night.
Still, family was his priority. He protected Hermione fiercely. His son, with even more caution.
There was no way in hell that Draco Malfoy knew he had a daughter that lived with her Muggle grandparents and no protection from the wrath that was bound to come to Granger if she stayed by Harry Potter's side.
He'd be furious if he found out, too.
"How old are you?" Blaise asked the little girl.
She had marched over and flicked on a switch. Hazy yellow light snapped on overhead. He stared at it uncertain of what exactly it was. Candles were flame. These glass bulbs were not filled with fire. How did they light?
"Two," she answered matter-of-factly. "Almost three."
The dog was getting laid fourth year? How was the world so unfair?!
"And, may I ask your name?"
She sat into a little chair painted purple and white, a castle painted atop the surface of the table. Her fingers lined the edges of the figures with delicate touch. The nature of the child was fragile, delicate, but the strength of her eye gave Blaise second thoughts.
Two parents of strong natures wouldn't give birth to meek. They'd create monsters just as stubborn and wild as they were.
Oh Merlin, were they in for a treat as parents.
"It's not safe to talk to strangers," she stated calmly.
Blaise smirked. "You're right. We should be introduced first, shouldn't we?"
The young girl nodded. That look was entirely her father. A deviousness behind her compliance.
"Show me who you are, then I'll tell you my name."
His eyebrows shot to his hairline. "Excuse me?"
Her demeanor was too calm for a threatening take. Her little legs swung in her chair as her finger continued to trace the outline of the castle, stone for stone, even when she looked into Blaise's eyes.
"Use your magic. You are a wizard, aren't you?" She knew well that he was. His wand was visible at his side. "Show me who you are."
Oh, yes. There was the Malfoy in her.
"And what do I get out of this deal?" He asked playfully.
She shrugged. "What you want. My name. I'll tell it to you."
A sudden quiet fell over the house as the noise above their heads died down. Hermione no longer thrashed against the plastic sheets. Her screams turned silent.
Blaise leapt to his feet, a nervous sweat down his back. He had to get out of there if he didn't want Malfoy to murder him.
The spell on his lips, the sorry expression on his face, he raised his wand. But before he could mutter the words to take him back to his school, a shrill cry rang through the house like the sound of Hallelujah. The first cries of Malfoy's son as he took a breath after birth.
"What is that?" The girl was by his side, standing too.
They both stared up at the ceiling above their heads in astonishing awe. The very sounds of new life, their ears the first to ever know the child's breath. He sighed. All the drama over secrecy, and that's all the cause of it. The fading cries of a newborn child.
A warm sensation came to his fingers as little fingers wrapped around his. He looked down at the girl and smiled. It was a momentous time for her. She was a big sister. Another sibling to her family. A companion she'd have for all time.
"Come on then," he said. "Let's go meet your little brother."
Sparkles of excitement bloomed inside the girl's eyes. "I have a brother?"
He nodded. "Your mum and dad gave you a good one, too. Hear that? He's a strong one. He'll be stealing your dolls in no time."
"Nuh-uh. I'll make him stay out. These are my toys." The little girl furrowed her little blonde brow in a way that he chuckled. It was so cute.
Blaise lowered down to her side, taking one side in his hand. "Now, now. You won't do that. You know why? Because when you see that little man upstairs with your mum, you'll fall in love with him and he'll love you. He'll want to play with your things because he loves his sister and wants to be like her. He'll want to be just like you."
Although she wasn't thoroughly convinced, she nodded. Her little arms wrapped around his neck in a tight hug.
"Will you go with me?" Her voice squeaked.
How could he turn down such a sweet little witch?
"Of course." He lifted her up, hoisting her against his side as he made his way up the stairs. "Be a good girl for your mummy, alright? She might look sad, but she's just tired."
The girl nodded.
Blaise knocked a knuckle against the door. Dr. Elenor opened the door, looking exhausted but triumphant.
"Can we come in?" He asked gently.
It hadn't occurred to him that they might not be welcome. Childbirth was a private moment for a family. He wasn't apart of it, either. He'd just shown up in the midst of the chaos and helped himself to their lives. Perhaps it was better if he left.
Dr. Elenor noticed the girl in his arms with wide eyes. She nodded and opened the door.
The room was cleaned for the most part. Most of the blood was washed away. Streaks of red still sat against the plastic. A cream-colored blanket rested against Granger's legs and torso, drenched in liquid. Her eyes met him with panic as she noticed her daughter in his arms. He forced a sad look and pulled the girl closer.
"You mind?" He asked her, showing his wand.
She licked her lips. "Please do. I'd do it but I don't have the strength."
Blaise mumbled a spell and the blood vanished to thin air, the blanket dried in an untainted state. Even Hermione gasped as her body was suddenly scrubbed clean and fresh again. The beads of sweat gone from her forehead. The state of her wiry hair soothed down to tamable curls at her shoulders, gentle and caramel colored again.
The little girl at his side gasped and grabbed hold of his wand. "Can I use?"
He beheld her fascination as she fingered the wood, peering down the length like she knew what she was looking for. It was so sweet to watch a girl so intrigued by something so simple as a wand. But there was no way she was introduced to the magical community. Too many questions, not enough protection. The poor girl was a witch bound in the confines of the Muggle life for the foreseeable future.
He and Hermione shared a disappointed look for they both knew the truth of reality and her daughter's love of magic was more of a target than protection.
"Madi, don't you want to see your little brother?" The gruff Dr. Granger asked.
His presence had been ignored. Blaise was actually surprised to see the big man with a tiny bundle of blankets in his arms, two little arms folded overtop the material. Pale flesh to match his sister, and his father.
Blaise glanced back. "You good, Granger?"
She bit her lip. "I need to feed him, but I'm so weak. If you could, reach into my satchel and find me two potions."
"Of course," he said.
Elenore took Madi from his arms with a helpful smile. He walked toward the pile of clothes that were ripped from her person when she was finally covered in the bed. There amongst her things was a tiny canvas satchel. His eyebrows knit together.
"You have potions in this thing?" He questioned. "You couldn't fit a Knut in this thing."
"Look inside," was the answer he was given.
He did as he was told and pulled apart of the rough pieces of cloth and revealed a pouch the size of a room. It was filled with shelves of books. No surprise. There was a trunk stuffed with clothing, baby and otherwise. A plush rug laid on the floor in front of a lounge chair. A portable teapot and dishes rested near.
"Is that a fireplace?" Blaise gaped. "You have an entire flat in your purse!"
"Let me see!" The girl squealed.
Her brother was startled by the noise. He proceeded to cry in bone chilling screams.
"Madison Carina, you must be quiet near the baby," Hermione snipped. "He doesn't like loud noises."
"Sorry Mummy." The girl dipped her head low.
Blaise sank his face inside the satchel, scanning all around the room for a bit of potions. Where the heck would you put them? A moving bag wasn't exactly the safest place to have potion vials in the first place. Some were volatile if spilled over things. Surely, Granger knew that.
She did. She had them secured in a cabinet with secure fittings lined with stuffing so they were cushioned. Blaise rolled his eyes as he pulled his head out of the space.
"Which ones do you need?" He asked.
"Pepper up, for sure. Blood Replenishing, too, don't you think?" Her eyes were filled with sincerity.
She hadn't forgotten that his skill set was directed at potions, being particularly gifted in healing potions.
Blaise reached in and grabbed the two. "Might need two with how much you lost."
"I just want something enough so I can feed Caspian."
He handed the bottles over. She chugged them gratefully, sipping every sip out of the bottle in hopes for a silent miracle to bring her back from the brush with death. A few seconds gave her the color back to her cheeks. Just a splash of peach amongst the white.
Light returned to the dull eyes. Her sparkles once again showed through her iris in breathtaking notice.
"Caspian?"
She nodded. "Caspian Regulus. Do you like it?"
Caspian was a bit dated. Spanish even, but it was beautiful. It fit the baby's head of Granger-brown hair as it lay swaddled in its grandfather's arms.
The Regulus was astonishing.
"A constellation?" Blaise snickered. "Following that tradition, are you?"
"Draco wanted to honor his mother's line of Black. I like Regulus. It's the brightest star in the constellation of Leo," she explained with a proud smile. "The Kingly Star, they call it."
Blaise walked over to the small infant with Malfoy gray eyes and brown hair. It looked more like Draco than their daughter did. Almost exactly, except for the dark eyebrows and hair. He muttered the name as he stared down at the pale pinkish newborn swaddled between white blankets, sucking a few of his fingers.
Dr. Granger glanced up at him, pushing the child forward. Blaise looked up, quirking his brow.
"Go on," the man said softer than the boom it had been. "She's going to want him now."
The baby was positioned in his arms, carefully, and much to their anxiety. He watched the pair of grandparents withdraw their hands through hesitance as he went to present Caspian to his mother.
Some mother he'd have. The kid would learn to be so gifted just like his sister. So loved by so many.
He turned back to little Madison by Elenore's leg. There was not a shred of fear in her stance. Only curiosity.
"Come here, you. Your mum wants you to meet somebody," he said.
The little girl lit up. Her feet padded against the floor toward the bedside, little toes curling deep into the shag carpet below. She shared no reservation about holding onto Blaise's leg tight as a clamp. Hermione grinned wildly, touching a stray curl fallen loose from the girl's braid.
"You should have heard the horrid name Draco picked," Hermione said once she settled Caspian into her arms at her breast. The little son worked diligently to suckle, sucking noises the entire way. "Scorpius. Isn't that ghastly? A poor little boy with a name like that. The kicker was that he didn't see a thing wrong with it. Not a single thing. Our son wouldn't stand a chance in the Muggle world with a name like that."
Blaise focused on Madison, whom kept climbing onto his lap and then sliding off again. Her excitement to meet a wizard was obvious.
"You know those Malfoys." He exhaled, shaking his head at his friend's delusion.
"That's why I named her Madi. Madison Carina. Carina is a constellation, too."
The little girl hopped into his lap once more, a jolly smile on her face. She leaned over to peer through the blankets at her little brother. Bright orange fingernails poked his cheek. The baby stirred but continued at his mother's breast without complaint.
Just like Draco, thought Blaise.
Hermione regarded the girl softly as Dr. and Dr. Granger corralled the little being out of the room with the promise of a snack. Her eyes turned to sadness. There was a lost look about her that promptly Blaise to watch the girl go, too.
She was handsome as the Devil. A clear-cut sign that she'd be just like her own father, a master of mischief and beauty.
"She reminds me of him," she spoke through her daze. There was the faraway sound in her breath. He wasn't sure if she meant to say it aloud or within her mind. "Somedays she'll make a look and it is almost like staring at Draco."
"He doesn't know about her, does he?"
She blinked quickly and glanced down at the soft bundle within her arms. "No. I thought it was best that way. He wasn't ready. Neither was I, but he wasn't ready to take that risk with me. Not then."
"And now, he is," Blaise continued thoughtfully.
The young mother shook her head. She refused to get drawn into lines of fantasy and what if. It was very clear just how wrong she'd been as to Draco's involvement with the darkness of Voldemort and there was little to be said in terms of his saving. He joined the ranks.
Father of her children, the youngest Death Eater to ever be recruited. It was just her luck.
She owed Harry an apology for that.
"You can't tell him," she stated firmly.
Their gazes met. Hers were hard with determination. That look she got when presented with a challenge in class or an unruly potion mixture that wanted to do its own thing rather than preform its expected task. Granger was adamant.
"Do you know what he's going to be like if he doesn't know that you're alive? Or him? It's going to eat him up. You don't know what he's been like this year. He never eats. Barely able to sleep without the nightmares. Around you, he's himself again. My friend again. Without, he's a basket case. He won't make it through without you all."
Hermione exhaled sharply. "Why'd you come steal me away then if you want me to stay with him?"
"I didn't say stay," Blaise corrected. "It isn't safe for you now."
"I know that. I kept Madison secret for Draco's safety. I'm going to keep Caspian secret, too. Don't look at me like that, Blaise. I have no choice. If Draco learns of their existence, he's going to look for them," she explained. "I know he will. He'll hunt them down because he's that dedicated being a father. He'll get himself killed for them. Or worse, tortured. Voldemort might find them if Draco knows. It's for the best that no one knows. Not even my own friends know of her or him. Only you do. Please. Don't betray them."
"I won't. But that can't be trusted, Granger. No one can. Not even you."
She looked hurt at his admission; he couldn't blame her. The reality of war, of Dumbledore's fall, of the Ministry's destruction bound to happen as Voldemort gained power, it was difficult to recall what times they lived in. Just what was at stake.
Hermione Granger was a warrior. She belonged at Harry's side as he was the only one fit enough to stop him. But he wasn't at his full strength without his friends. Either of them. No matter what held her back in the shadows, it was her time to head for the light. The entire world depended upon her commitment toward the overthrow of Voldemort and dark wizards alike.
It was no place for attachments or weakness. Children posed a great risk to all who fight. They're an easy target to attack thus destroying an enemy without fighting them directly. Destroy their reason for life, their hope, the entire future of their line and fight is sucked out of them like a Dementor's work.
He told her closely what to do. Send herself away to her friends, eliminate her family's memory of her and force them out of the country. It didn't matter where they went. Just as long as she didn't know, and they didn't know who they were.
As much as she hated it, it was the only way.
That night she hugged her son extra tight, smelled his head for the last time, read Madi her favorite story, told her daughter that she loved her so much, packed her things and left her parent's home with a hole in her heard the size of England.
It was time for war. And war meant sacrifice.