CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE:
REBIRTH
"It was the night before Easter, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even..."
"Isn't that a Christmas poem?" asked Hermione, entering the library where Teddy was asleep leaning against Narcissa on the couch. She had an open photo album in front of them, as she'd been showing the two-year-old pictures of "Dayco" at his age.
"Is it?"
"It's a Muggle Christmas poem." Hermione spoke in a quieter voice now that she'd spotted the sleeping toddler. "I'm surprised you know it."
"As I am," Narcissa whispered back. "Surprised to learn it's by a Muggle, that is. My mother used to recite those lines to us the night before every holiday to remind us if we didn't stay in our beds the holiday wouldn't happen. Bella once slipped out to shake the presents under the tree. She thought she'd gotten away with it but the next morning all of her gifts were gone. All she received was a book called The Witch Who Couldn't Wait, a picture book about a naughty witch getting into trouble on account of her impatience. I think I was around four, which would have made Bella eight. She was furious and cried all day and all night. I think it permanently ruined Christmas for her."
Hermione winced, almost (almost) feeling a twinge of sympathy for Bellatrix Black, age eight.
"Care to see?" Narcissa held up the album and patted the couch to her other side. Though she felt the tiniest bit uncomfortable, Hermione settled beside her.
"Draco was a wonderful toddler. We spoiled him, which must come as no surprise to you, but he wasn't one of those rotten whiny little beasts you see throwing temper tantrums at the sweet shop. He loved to copy Lucius. He wanted to sit like Lucius, talk like Lucius, walk like Lucius, order around the house-elves like Lucius... He even used a toy Quidditch broom like a walking stick for an entire year, starting around age three... I think I have a picture... here, see?"
There was Lucius Malfoy, standing in the now-forbidden Drawing Room of Malfoy Manor, which looked to be decorated for a lavish party. He was wearing light-colored dress robes (hard to discern the exact color from a black and white photograph) and was surveying the room with a cool nod, his hand on the snake head of his walking stick. Beside him, tiny Draco's Quidditch broom was bristles up, his hair was pulled back like his father's, and he, too, wore dress robes. Hermione couldn't help cooing over him. She'd never seen toddler dress robes before! Draco was glancing up at his father, then jutting up his own chin, clearly trying to look the same.
"He's adorable!" whispered Hermione. She glanced at blue-haired Teddy, wondering whether she and Narcissa could convince Andromeda to bring him to Draco's upcoming fundraising gala for the orphans in a little dress robe.
"Look at these." Narcissa tossed the book, which hovered in the air for a brief pause before floating to its spot on a shelf, and opened the one that had been under it. Christmas 1979 - Christmas 1980 was burned into the leather cover.
"This is the very first picture in which Draco appears," said Narcissa softly, touching a moving image of herself and Lucius standing in front of an ornately decorated Christmas tree. "It was Christmas Eve. I'd just found out I was expecting but we hadn't told anyone yet, so for an entire day it felt like our wonderful little secret. We informed both his family and mine the following evening, after the feast here at Malfoy Manor. My parents were present, as were his, of course, and my sister Bella and her husband and both his brothers, Rodolphus and Reinald - Reinald was killed by Mad-Eye Moody a few months later - plus Lucius' two spinster aunts, his mother's sisters, and a great-uncle, and a cousin..." She turned the page to one featuring a photo of a large, well-dressed, snooty-but-attractive looking group of wizards and witches, surrounding Lucius and Narcissa, just above a photo of a crowd of small-nosed, angular, affluent people, mostly dark-haired, all of whom either appeared to be bored with the situation or downright miserable.
"My mother is wearing that expression because she hated having her picture taken," Narcissa said, inadvertently reminding Hermione of her skills as a Legilimens. "Not that she looked much happier when not having her picture taken. That's my cousin Regulus there. He was your friend's godfather's younger brother." He, too, looked miserable. "He was killed a few days after Reinald. We've no idea why, but the Dark Lord did it himself. Let's skip ahead, shall we?"
"Alright," breathed Hermione. Seeing Regulus had momentarily taken her breath away. He looked so very much like a young Sirius, the same hair, the same eyes. She wondered if he had already betrayed Lord Voldemort when the photograph was taken, or whether he was even considering it yet. She wondered when and how he discovered the secret of the Horcruxes. He was young, younger than Hermione was now, in that picture. It occurred to her that Draco's "first" Christmas was his cousin Regulus' last.
Narcissa stopped on a page featuring a large photograph of a sleeping newborn. She smiled shakily, tapping the corner.
"Wasn't he a beautiful baby?" she asked Hermione.
For reasons she couldn't understand, Hermione's eyes welled with tears.
"He's beautiful," she agreed, sniffling. "Look at that nose!"
"You should have seen his bitty fingers and toes. Here, on this one, you can. He was about to have his first bath. My mother-in-law thought it was positively scandalous that I insisted upon giving him that bath. 'That's what house-elves are for!' she said. 'If you want a human touch, hire a nanny!' She hated that I nursed him, too. She started calling me 'the help.' She would say to Lucius, 'Are you going out for dinner tonight, or does the help have to stay home to care for the baby?' My mother-in-law was generally kinder that my own mother, except when it came to what she felt blemished the Malfoy family reputation or image. But I loved caring for my own baby. I wanted more..." Now Narcissa was the one fighting back tears. "We lost one in the second trimester, and after that..."
"I'm sorry," whispered Hermione. She meant it. Not only was she sorry Narcissa hadn't been able to have more, she was additionally sorry because she absolutely did NOT want to give her the grandchild she so desperately sought. Not soon, certainly, and possibly not ever.
"You may change your mind," said Narcissa, and Hermione inwardly cursed, having forgotten again about the woman's mind-invasion capabilities. She seemed to be better at the skill than Professor Snape, who usually had to be making eye contact in order to read someone.
"I may," she conceded.
"But you may not." Narcissa turned the page. The next one featured newborn Draco swaddled in a blanket, being rocked to sleep by his mother. "I never gave any thought to my future beyond marriage, social engagements, and motherhood, Hermione. I never dreamed about having a career like you desire or a charitable purpose like Draco's found. It was not only never expected of me to work, it would never have been permitted. Did I ever tell you I was forced to finish school a year early to enter into an official courtship with Lucius? Dumbledore offered me Head Girl in an attempt to bring me back after I turned seventeen but Mother and Father wouldn't hear of such a thing. I was lucky enough not to have to leave my sixth year after my birthday in March. They gifted me the rest of the term. I felt it was enough at the time, and I don't believe I would have wanted a life like Andromeda's, working a dull job simply because doing so is necessary to buy food and necessities, but when I look at you, bright, ambitious, tenacious, with innumerable possibilities, living up to your full potential, utilizing the skills you learned at Hogwarts, I wonder if I might have been able to make more of myself. I..." She stared intently at another baby picture of Draco, unable to look at Hermione as she made an admission. "I envy you that."
"I finished after sixth year too, and not by choice," Hermione reminded her. "It is my greatest regret. Part of me wishes I'd asked Professor McGonagall to let me return in September after the war, but I learned loads during my time with the Mentorship program and I think I helped people..."
"You helped Draco. And because of that, Draco was able to reach out to Severus to help me. And I believe, in a sense, I've helped Severus. Have you ever tossed a stone into a lake? It sinks but from it there are ripples, wider and wider, moving away. You were the stone and all that has been made better by your Mentoring, the rippled.""
Hermione's cheeks went pink at this praise.
"Look at him here!" Hermione touched a picture of him sucking his thumb, perhaps three months old. "I didn't know he was a thumb-sucking baby!"
Narcissa smiled wistfully. "He did that until he was four. I couldn't stand it at the time, but looking back, he was sweet with that little thumb in his mouth, wasn't he?"
They looked through the rest of that album, which ended on Christmas Day when he was six months old. Hermione offered to carry Teddy to Draco's old crib where he'd been spending the night, as Andromeda was out with her 'friend' Barnaby again.
"Thank you," said Narcissa, stretching. "I'm exhausted."
The following day was Easter Sunday. Narcissa dressed Teddy in one of Draco's old outfits, one so sweet she hadn't been able to bear to part with it when they got rid of the baby things, and headed out to meet Andromeda, Barnaby, Barnaby's grandson Grayson, and Severus for dinner. They could have stayed at Malfoy Manor and enjoyed a house-elf prepared feast, but the elves were busy preparing for the fundraising gala coming up the following Saturday, thus they opted for out instead.
Draco and Hermione, meanwhile, headed for her parents' house.
"I warn you, they've been sniping at each other lately," Hermione said as they walked from the apparition point toward the Granger's home. "My mother says they've been under stress. And my brother and sister are two Teddies. They'll drive you bonkers."
"I'm ready, Hermione," he assured her with a squeeze of her hand. They'd been dating over a year already and this would be the first time he'd met them. She's invited him to dinner last Christmas but with his mother in rehab, he was in no mood, and was therefore afraid he wouldn't be able to make a good impression, thus she'd gone alone.
Jean Granger opened the door before Hermione had finished knocking. She had twenty-one-month-old Orlando on her hip and a chocolate handprint on the front of her white blouse. Hermione hid a giggle, remembering what Severus had said about children leaving sticky handprints on their mothers for five-plus years. No, she didn't want that!
"Come in, come in!" She ushered them into the kitchen, where dinner smelled delicious. "You must be Draco."
"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Granger." He put out his hand. Hermione smiled. He looked quite Muggle today, in black trousers and a green dress shirt, his wand safely tucked away inside her handbag, his hair in a low ponytail. He was handsome, and Hermione could tell her mother agreed.
"We've heard so much about you, Draco."
"We heard you were on opposite sides during that magical war, but you're reformed now," said Jonathon, coming into the kitchen with Ophelia in his arms. He strapped her into her tray-less highchair beside Orlando in his before pushing both close to the table.
"This is my husband, Jonathan."
Draco managed to suppress his nerves as they shook hands.
"My sister is Ophelia and my brother is Orlando," said Hermione. "Ophelia recently got glasses! Now she can see much better, can't you?"
Ophelia didn't answer, but she smiled. Orlando, on the other hand, threw up his hands and shouted, "I WANT GASSES TOO! ME TOO!"
"We have talked about this, Orlando," said Jean Granger. "You don't need them. You can see fine. Ophelia needs glasses the same way she needs her hearing aids. They're tools, not toys."
"Ophelia is delayed," Hermione whispered, though she needn't have. Everyone in the room, Draco included, already knew this. When she didn't start walking and talking and responding to her name as Orlando did, their parents took her to be tested only to discover she had severe astigmatism and Sensorineural Hearing Loss, which meant she was probably missing most of what her mother and sister were trying to teach her.
"She's getting much better now that she can see and hear!" said Jonathon, leaning forward to kiss the top of her head before ruffling his son's curly brown hair.
"Hi," said Ophelia, smiling at Draco. He smiled back.
"Hi."
"HI HI HI HI HI!" shouted Orlando, not one to enjoy seeing someone else be the center of attention. "I SAY HI!"
"You needn't shout, Orlando," scolded Hermione. A few minutes later, she and Draco settled on one side of the long oval table across from the twins in their highchairs, as her parents took their places on either end.
The four adults tried to carry on conversation during dinner, though it was frequently punctured by Orlando's attempts to remind everyone of his existence and Ophelia's occasional words, most of which she echoed after others said them.
After the meal, Jonathon Granger offered Draco a tour of the house, which Hermione suspected was done more to get him alone to enquire as to the young man's intentions with his daughter than it was to show off their tiny home. They brought Orlando with them. Hermione stayed in the kitchen with her mother and Ophelia. She sat her sister in her lap as they watched their mother start the dishes. (She'd already turned down Hermione's offer to help.)
"What do you think, Mum? Of Draco?"
"He's good-looking, mature, polite. It's obvious he comes from money."
"How can you tell?"
"I can tell."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"Only if you're only with him for his money."
"No!" Hermione looked horrified. "His wealth means nothing to me! Anyone can inherit a fortune. It doesn't mean they're special or more worthy of love than poorer wizards. Or people. Poorer people."
"People," copied Ophelia, nodding as if part of the discussion.
"His mother wants us to marry and have children before I'm twenty-five."
"What?" Jean Granger almost dropped the plate she was washing. "You're too young! You have your whole life to – Oh, Hermione, please, you can't! Not until you're at least thirty! Have a career, focus on that, have fun, focus on yourself! You can date Draco, you can even... even continue living with him, as much as I worry about that, but please, do not make me a grandmother for at least another ten years!"
"You would be upset, then?" While she knew she didn't want children right now, this visceral reaction from her mother surprised and worried her. She held Ophelia a little tighter. "But what if... what if we didn't mean to? What if it was an accident, and..."
"Don't have an accident! Are you on – I cannot believe we haven't discussed this – are you on birth control? Does he use protection? Please, Hermione, you cannot be too careful!"
"There are options, if it happens though, aren't there? I could–"
"Hermione, I don't want you thinking about options for after. There should not be an 'after.' Protect yourself in the before. Oh, dear, love, my girl..." Her mother set the plate on the counter and pulled up a chair across from her two daughters. "Is it too late? Are you...?"
"I'm only a bit late," whispered Hermione, her eyes brimming with tears she did not want to cry. "But we've been careful, and..."
"Tomorrow," interrupted her mother. "We'll take you to the doctor tomorrow."
"I can see a Healer on my lunch break from work."
"You're not going to work tomorrow. You're coming straight here and I'm taking you to see Dr. Carrington. Understood?"
"I'm only a bit late," Hermione repeated woodenly. Hearing the footsteps of her father and Draco approaching, she quickly got hold of herself and was smiling when they entered the kitchen.
The rest of their visit passed uneventfully.
Andromeda and Barnaby chose the restaurant for their Easter supper, a mid-price wizarding place in Yorkshire. It was a pleasant meal. Grayson and Teddy behaved and ate their food without complaint, only spilling a marginal amount on themselves and the floor while Severus and Barnaby found something to talk about that wasn't the weather or the news (Goblin rebellions in 17th century Europe, which bored everyone else at the table but kept the men engaged for a good fifteen minutes). Before pudding, Andromeda and Narcissa took the toddlers to the toilet, during which they were finally able to speak candidly.
"It's been two years that you're a widow," said Narcissa, as Andromeda helped little Grayson unfasten his trousers. "Do you still feel as though you're cheating on Ted to be with someone else?"
"At times. Teddy's birthday was difficult. We don't know exactly when Ted was killed, but remembering how bittersweet it was for Nymphadora, meeting her baby at last but facing the reality her father would never meet his namesake, that brought back... it reopened the wound. After Teddy's party, after you'd all gone home and he was asleep, I ate cake while taking a hot bath and cried. But I didn't drink. And Barnaby is a patient man."
"I will always be in love with Lucius." Narcissa prompted Teddy to flush the toilet, then helped her sister guide both boys to the sink to wash their hands. "When he was executed, I died. A part of me died. With Severus, I feel reborn. I'll always love Lucius, but I no longer wish I'd died with him. I'm happy to be alive and in love and..." She snuggled Teddy to his chest but he wriggled down, wanting to walk independently.
"I know," said Andromeda. "You think I don't know? We've spent more of our lives apart than together and still, in some ways, I know you better than you've ever known yourself."
"You give yourself too much credit," replied Narcissa, but she couldn't help thinking her older sister might be right.
One day shy of one week later, the night before the fundraising gala, Malfoy Manor was a mess... and so was Draco.
"Nothing is completely ready, I'm not ready, and it's going to be a disaster!" exclaimed Draco, who'd just caught hell from Hermione because she caught him screaming obscenities at an elderly house-elf who'd forgotten to polish all of the good silver that was to be used at the banquet.
"There is plenty of time left to do what must be done, and reducing that poor old elf to tears isn't going to help anything go faster!"
This led to a shouting match between the young lovers, broken up by Severus, who entered the dining room from the hall with Duchess the dog at his heels.
"Couldn't even take her for a walk without having to hear you two! You are acting like first years!"
"She doesn't understand how important this is!" Draco stomped his foot like a petulant child. "That silver should have been shined no later than yesterday!"
"He's impossible to talk to!" Hermione pointed furiously in his direction. "I'm going back to my mother's!"
"Calm down about the damn silver," snapped Severus. "You are impossible." He stepped in front of Hermione, who was in the process of storming out. "And you, stay put and stop being melodramatic. You cannot run home to Mummy every time you two have a row!"
Hermione's mouth dropped. Draco went even redder.
"She is not melodramatic, she's passionate!"
"And he is only trying to ensure everything goes smoothly tomorrow!"
"Dunderheads." Severus turned on his heel and tapped his thigh to get Duchess' attention. "We have an appointment and will return in time for dinner. In the interim, quit bickering."
"Who is he to tell us what to do?" muttered Draco as Severus' footsteps receded down the hall.
"He's been ornery as of late," replied Hermione, who was starting to think she might regret having agreed to leave her Ministry job to work at his apothecary starting the first of May.
Meanwhile, halfway to the front gate, Severus was smirking. Nothing brings a couple together like attacking each party individually; the other will inevitable jump to his or her lover's defense. He picked up Duchess, closed his eyes, and apparated them to Hogsmeade.
He had a lunch date with Minerva.
Upstairs in the bedroom, Narcissa was sobbing.
She was sobbing because she couldn't fit into the exquisite gown she'd purchased one month prior in preparation for the gala. It was too tight.
"I'm... as... big... as... a... hippogriff!" she wailed into her pillow. How could this happen? She'd been so careful. Not drinking, watching her sugar and fat intake, exercising... Okay, not exercising, unless sex with Severus counted. But it should. It should count, since it involved working up a sweat! How could she possible attend the gala without a gown? If the new one was too small, surely all of her old ones would be as well.
"Mistress Malfoy needs help?" asked the tiny house-elf who'd just escaped being berated by Draco.
"Mistress Malfoy is massive!" Narcissa replied through her tears. "My dress is too small, Butters. I need to wear it tomorrow, I've just tried it on so I could decide upon my jewelry and shoes, and it's too small!"
"Butters can transfigure the dress bigger," the house-elf suggested in a delicate tone.
"Big enough to fit, perhaps, but not big enough to hide this!" She rolled onto her back and placed her hands on her belly, which was protruding only slightly. While she was more filled out now than she'd been at her most gaunt and sickly, she was only a stone heavier than she'd been at the start of the second war, which really wasn't so much.
"Mistress Malfoy will wear the dress for Butters?" The tiny house-elf smiled expectantly, and her earnestness pulled Narcissa from the bed. She put the dress on but could not zip it, a problem the elf quickly rectified.
"I look fat," the witch lamented, staring herself down in the full-length mirror.
"Mistress Malfoy looks lovely," argued Butters. "Not fat." She placed a tiny hand on Narcissa's belly. "Mistress Malfoy should not cry, should be happy. Master Malfoy would be happy."
"I don't know about that," scoffed Narcissa. "With all the stress of this gala, I don't think he remembers what happiness feels like."
"Not Young Master Malfoy," said Butters. "Master Malfoy." Butters looked uncomfortable for a moment before clarifying, "Master Lucius Malfoy."
Narcissa gasped and sat on the edge of the bed, which wasn't easy in such a tight gown. Without being asked, Butters snapped her fingers and the fabric relaxed just enough. "Do you think my Lucius would be happy, Butters? Or do you think he would hate me? Would he feel I replaced him?"
Butters reacted as if personally scandalized by the suggestion.
"Master Malfoy could never hate Mistress Malfoy! Master Malfoy loved Mistress Malfoy forever, with the whole heart! Master Malfoy would want Mistress Malfoy to be happy, to be loved with the whole heart."
"Severus loves me with his whole heart, but I might still love him with only half of mine. How can I give him my whole heart without giving up the love I have for Lucius?"
Butters smiled, revealing several broken teeth. Narcissa mentally noted she would have to have the poor old girl taken in to a specialist to ensure this was only due to age. They used to do so every year, have their house-elves checked out and cared for, but since her husband died... a twinge of guilt filled her. Butters was the only house-elf she brought with her from her parents' home to Malfoy Manor, the one who'd been caring for her since infancy. Unlike Dobby, Lucius' elf, Butters adored her.
"Master Malfoy is never gone from the whole heart, Mistress Malfoy. The heart hold all the love. Butters had a whole heart full of love for Mistress Bella and Mistress Meda and Mistress Cissy and more for Young Master Malfoy."
"You haven't called me Mistress Cissy since I was a girl." Narcissa smiled. She hadn't hugged her house-elf since childhood either, but she couldn't help wondering how the elf would react if she tried to now. "Thank you, Butters. You've always been my favorite."
"Mistress Malfoy is most welcome," said Butters, still smiling. "Mistress Malfoy is Butters' favorite, too. Mistress Malfoy is not a bitch like Mistress Bella."
Narcissa laughed, but Butters looked horrified by the words she'd accidentally uttered - advanced age can rob a house-elf of her mind-to-mouth filters. Unable to stop herself, Narcissa bent down from the bed and hugged the little old house-elf, who squeaked with surprise before awkwardly hugging her back.
Severus had a difficult time navigating the halls of Hogwarts on account of the fact that every student who stayed over the holiday had apparently never seen a dog before and therefore needed to accost his. He escaped a group of Slytherins in the front hall only to be accosted again - this time by giggling girls - when he approached Minerva's office.
"She's so precious!" cooed a second year Ravenclaw to her Hufflepuff friend, who was scratching Duchess behind the ears. The cocker spaniel's tail was wagging and her tongue was hanging out as she enjoyed the extra attention. Quickly, two other girls, first year Gryffindors, joined them, both using baby talk to tell his dog she was the prettiest ickle bitty baby puppykins they've ever seen. Severus tried out his best glare on the girls, but unlike his former students, they seemed completely unfazed. Apparently they knew him only as the war hero spy their parents told them about, and not as the formidable bully he'd been to his potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts students, thus he instilled in them no fear. Damn it.
"We are leaving now! Duchess, come!" said Severus, tapping his thigh. Duchess shot him a wounded look, as if asking piteously why he wanted to take her away from her wonderful new friends. "Duchess, I said come!"
She obeyed, though reluctantly, and finally they made it to Minerva's office.
Over lunch he shed all pretense of not being in love with Narcissa and instead lamented to the Headmistress (and, because it was there on the wall, the portrait of Dumbledore) about her odd behavior as of late. Sneaking into the kitchen at night to have Butters provide her with sweet treats, getting sick from having overindulged, then complaining about her weight and figure, crying one moment and happy the next, sniping at poor Duchess for absolutely no reason (Duchess wagged her tail and yipped excitedly at the sound of her name) and generally keeping him completely confused.
"She switches from hot to cold and back again in more ways than one multiple times per day, and she's been losing things – her shoes, her cloak, her wand... her mind..."
"Sounds to me like The Change," said Minerva gently. "Are you familiar with Menopause ?"
"Menopause?" repeated Severus. He remembered his mother going through it, but hadn't paid her much mind at the time, frankly.
"Mrs. Malf - excuse me, Narcissa - is on the younger side, but it can happen to any witch over forty. Has she been having her cycle?"
Severus was appalled by the question. "I don't know! I don't ask about such personal matters."
"You sleep with her but you don't ask her about personal matters?" Minerva's eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. "Think about it. Has she recently–"
"I don't think so." Now that he put his mind to it, he couldn't remember the last time she'd told him they couldn't have sex in the bed because she was bleeding (in the past she'd insisted the best place during that time of the month was the shower or bath. Since any location meant his inevitable pleasure, he had no complaints). "The Change." He sighed. "What should I expect?"
"Oh dear boy," said Dumbledore with a chuckle. "You should expect to brew Felix Felicis on a regular basis, because if she's anything like our fiery Scottish friend here, you'll need an abundance of luck in order to avoid her wrath on days that–"
"Goodnight, Albus!" Minerva flicked her wand and a curtain fell over Albus's frame, stopping him from seeing or hearing them, thought they could hear him.
"I wish you'd stop doing that, Minerva!"
She rolled her eyes. "I had to special order that curtain because he was driving me mad with his meddling."
For the next forty minutes, she explained The Change to Severus. When he departed, he took Duchess to Honeydukes in Hogsmeade for Chocolate Frogs. If Minerva was to be believed, both Narcissa and Severus would be needing them.
Upon returning to Malfoy Manor, Severus went straight to the bedroom expecting to find Narcissa, but she was not there, thus he launched into the lecture he'd been saving since leaving Hogsmeade.
"Your conduct was atrocious, Duchess," he scolded. "You practically threw yourself at that bulldog! What were you thinking? Don't you know that's how puppies are made? You're lucky I was there with my wand at the ready and that a spray of water from an Aquamenti was enough to scare him back to his owner! What are we going to do with you?"
At five months old, Duchess was apparently going into heat for the first time, which meant it would be time for a visit to the Muggle veterinarian.
"In the future, perhaps, it wouldn't have been terrible, but now? There couldn't be a worse time."
Severus' stern voice carried out through the partially open door, reaching the ears of Narcissa, who was quickly, quietly approaching.
"I am trying to build a business. I do not have time to fritter away with training and care, sleepless nights and messes on the floor! Not to mention that reproducing - becoming a parent - is an extraordinarily great commitment, one neither of us is ready for. Plainly put, someone is going to have to get fixed. And soon. Before it's too late."
Duchess wagged her tail, tongue hanging out, head cocked to one side, with absolutely no idea what Severus was saying, but happy to be addressed all the same.
Meanwhile, out in the hall, Narcissa felt as though he'd ripped out the whole heart she'd been discussing with Butters mere hours before. She barely made it to what was once Draco's nursery before collapsing into the rocking chair, sobbing harder than she had that morning, fighting back the urge to vomit.
What was she going to do?
Narcissa was quiet all through dinner. Severus tried gently to coax conversation out of her, but gave up when it became clear she did not wish to engage. He tried reading her via Legilimency, but she was entirely closed off, and she must have felt his attempt because she shot him a sharp look that made him drop his soup spoon onto the table. That night, in bed, she faced away from him, holding a pillow against her midsection, disinterested in having his arms around her. He knew better than to take this personally, though it hurt, because Minerva had warned him it might happen.
In the bedroom down the hall, Draco spent over an hour worrying aloud about everything that could go wrong with the gala the following night while Hermione tried to assuage his fears.
"Whatever happens, Draco, I am proud of you," she said, interrupting his rant about how difficult it was to find decent caterers and his lack of confidence in their ability to perfectly pull off the complicated dinner banquet. "When you quit your job, I wasn't entirely confident you were doing the right thing, but seeing how quickly you've pulled this together, how much the new orphan fund has raised thus far, the way you've appealed to everyone not only for donations from those who can, but for the compassion of those who wish to help in other ways, and the way you've even engaged those who tried to look away..."
"We need to find them homes," said Draco. He'd become obsessed with this, and while Hermione was glad he now had a purpose, and a good one, she worried he was being too hard on himself.
"It's going to go well!"
"Well, but how well? I know we'll raise money tomorrow, of that I'm sure, but we also need to find them homes."
"We will." She kissed his cheek and snuggled against his chest. "We'll find them homes."
On Saturday, cocktail hour was to begin promptly at seven, with dinner and the brief speaking program starting at eight then the band taking the stage at nine-thirty. It was now half past three and Draco was in full on panic mode.
"The drawing room is not finished, the dining room is not finished, I have to pick up my dress robe, the band is adding to their list of demands, the head chef wants to switch out one of the starters..."
"Draco!" Hermione took hold of his upper arms, facing him toward her. They were standing in the center of the huge, rectangular Drawing Room, open for the first time since the war. It was beautifully decorated, with floating candles and a enchanted ceiling (to resemble a twinkling night sky) like Hogwarts, done intentionally to remind guests of the place most had called home from age eleven through seventeen. Each of the four fireplaces were going to feature flames of a different color (one for each Hogwarts house: green, maroon, blue, and yellow) and the stage for the band was in the process of being set up. House-elves were using their magic to decorate by placing twinkling gold stars around the windows and hearths, after which they would be preparing the room to which anyone traveling by Floo Powder would arrive and ensuring there were enough toys, books, and treats in the two rooms being used as a daycare during and after dinner for children under eleven.
"What, Hermione?"
"I need you to breathe. Tell me how I can help."
"The house-elves are running behind. We could set the tables in the dining room for the banquet. That way, they can focus on finishing the other–."
He didn't even need to finish. She was already heading out the door. "Let's go, then!"
The trays of silverware and place settings were already lined up across the kitchen counters. They each hovered two at a time, above their hands, and headed carefully toward the dining room.
In the dining room, Narcissa and Severus were surveying the décor.
"It's going to go well," said Severus, incorrectly reading the source of her anxiety. "You should be proud of Draco."
"Of course I'm proud of Draco," she snapped. "Parents are always proud of their children."
"Not always," said Severus darkly, remembering how little praise he'd gotten from his mother throughout his life, and the fact that he'd never heard a kind word from his father." It was with them in mind he added, "Some people are not meant to be parents."
And she burst into tears.
"What is it? Narcissa?"
"You tell me you don't want children, Severus. You tell me... you tell me..."
"Yes!" He tried to take her in his arms but she pulled away. "I don't need a younger woman who can marry me and give me children. I don't want that. I don't need marriage and I don't want children. I need you. I want you."
So this was her issue? Going through menopause was a further reminder that she could not give him a baby.]? But he'd told her countless times he didn't care about that, so why was she this devastated?
"What am I going to do then?" she asked bitterly, glaring at him, her arms crossed in front of her chest. "Have an abortion? Is that what you want? I heard you say you don't need any distractions with your business about to open! I heard you say one of us should get 'fixed.' Shall I go to a Healer tomorrow and–"
"What? An abortion? But... what? Why?"
"Haven't you noticed how heavy I've gotten?" Her voice rose in both volume and pitch. She pressed a hand to her slightly protruding belly. "Look at me!"
"Isn't that normal when going through The Change?" he asked. Her eyes flashed and he flinched. Thankfully she did not reach for her wand.
"The Change? You think I'm going through The Change? The Change?! I'm only forty-five, Severus!"
"Min... Minerva said..."
"YOU TOLD MINERVA MCGONAGALL I'M GOING THROUGH THE CHANGE?!"
Poor Severus was wishing he'd taken Albus' advice and brewed that Felix Felicis.
"Narcissa, please, I... an abortion?"
"Is that what you want?"
"An abortion is the termination of a pregnancy," said Severus, somehow still not grasping what was happening, perhaps on account of shock.
"Yes, you brilliant man, that's what it is." Her shoulders shook as she cried, but still she kept her arms crossed and backed away when he reached out to touch her. "I'll be four months along in a few days!"
"Along... with a baby?" Now it hit him. It all hit him. And it all made sense. The 'stomach bug' she'd had for weeks, the late night snacks, the weight gain, the mood swings...
"No, with a pygmy puff. Yes, a baby!"
"And I keep telling you I don't want children." He felt awful. He felt awful for the pain he must have been causing her all these weeks, these months. He felt awful for not realizing it. He felt awful, and then... he felt elation.
"Yes! That's what you keep telling me!"
"A baby!" He looked to the ceiling, trying to process this information. "We're having a baby? Narcissa?"
"You don't want it," she was still crying, unable to look at him. "But I can't have an abortion, I simply can't, not after nearly twenty years of wanting another baby, not after that awful miscarriage, not after all I've been through with losing my husband, losing my sister, nearly losing my son... so if you want to leave you may go and I'll raise it all alone and–"
"No! Narcissa!" This time she let him take her in his arms. Defeated and drained, she buried her face against his chest and cried. He rubbed her back and held her comfortingly. "I've been telling you I do not care about having children because I thought you couldn't and I did not want you to feel inadequate. I meant it when I said I'd rather have you without having children than have children with a woman who isn't you, but that doesn't mean I don't want our child, a child together! I love you. As for the weight gain, I simply assumed you were getting fat."
She let out a squeak of laughter and pulled back to look at him.
"You're not lying? You want a baby with me?"
"Yes! Look into my mind, I won't stop you. You can feel that I'm telling the truth. I want – we're having a baby!"
"Yes!"
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"I didn't know. At first I thought I was going through The Change, and–"
"You were furious at me for thinking you were going through it and yet–"
"It's fine for me to think I'm getting older, Severus. I don't want you thinking I'm getting old! Or fat, for that matter." She swatted playfully at his arm.
"I love you, Narcissa." He cupped her face gently between his hands and leaned down to press a tender kiss to her lips. "I love you and I love our baby." He kissed her a second time.
"I love you too, Severus," she said softly as she ran her hands up his chest to his shoulders. She pulled him closer, and when her lower back hit the edge of the table, he lifted her up onto it. She wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him again, over and over again.
"My baby," he murmured, placing one palm against her lower abdomen. "Can you feel it moving?"
"Not yet, but soon."
His lips traveled from hers to her cheek to under her ear, down her neck and throat and to her opposite shoulders as she dug her nails lightly into his back. The hand on her abdomen made its way to her breast and she squirmed, feeling the familiar pangs of desire building within her. She guided his mouth to hers as his other hand slipped up her skirt to her thigh. They were breathing heavily, quickly losing control, lost in the moment... lost in the love they shared for each other and for this unborn child created by them, not to mention overcome with relief and desperate to work out the stress both had been carrying for days, week... He kissed her and she kissed him and their hands wandered as their mouths met He groaned, and she gasped, and when he thrust against her she gripped the backs of his shoulders and begged for him. She leaned back and he kissed down her body, from the center of her throat to between her breasts, down to her lower belly, where he lingered.
"I need you," she said, guiding him back up. He groaned, feeling a tug in his lower belly that spread straight to his groin as his own arousal began to build. He grasped her thighs and thrust against her. "Yes," she moaned, scratching at the back of his neck with long manicured fingernails. "Take me here, Severus. Here. Take me now."
"Yes," he answered. "Yes, Narcissa, I need you, too." He gripped her upper thighs under her dress, thrusting against her again, as his lips made their way to her neck. where he sucked, hard. But she wanted more. So much more.
"Yes, Severus, yes!"
"No, Severus, no!"
The couple pulled apart to see a horrified Hermione and disgusted Draco in the doorway, both hovering trays of dishes in front of them. It had been Draco who'd spoken.
"What is wrong with you?" he demanded to know, sending the trays to a smaller table. Hermione did the same. "Mother! We have having a banquet here in under four hours! What are you doing on my table?"
"We're having a baby," she answered.
"NOT ON MY TABLE, YOU'RE NOT! This is a very important gala, Mother, and I need everything to go perfectly! We cannot have – what did you say?"
"We're having a baby," Severus repeated. He helped Narcissa down from the table and slid an arm around her waist. He stared Draco down as if daring him to say something negative about it, whereas Narcissa wore a nervous, hopefully expression. Draco's jaw dropped exaggeratedly. He did not speak, nor did he move.
"Congratulations!" exclaimed Hermione, recovering first. She moved forward to embrace her boyfriend's mother. "You must be excited! When are you due?"
"Mid-September."
"Mid-September," repeated Draco, sounding stunned.
"Darling?" Narcissa stepped away from Severus and Hermione, reaching out toward her son. "Having a baby won't mean I'll love you any less."
He stared at her for a long moment before starting to laugh.
"Mother! You hypocrite!" he exclaimed. "Wasn't it you who told Hermione she should wait until marriage before giving herself to a man? It's a bloody good thing grandmother is dead because the scandal from this would have killed her! You're having a bastard baby with a half-blood! No offense, Snape, but Grandmother Black would have... would have..." He was guffawing too hard to continue. Hermione looked upon him with worry, afraid the stress of the gala had gotten to him and he'd finally snapped. He struggled to compose himself.
"You're lucky I love you, Draco, or this would be the moment I hex you from here to Thursday for your cheek. Do not disrespect your mother." But Narcissa was smiling too, smiling and relieved. He managed to stand up straight and catch his breath.
"I'm happy you're happy, Mother."
She kissed his cheek and enveloped him in a hug.
"Good thing your test came back negative, eh Hermione?" Draco asked over his mother's shoulder. "Otherwise I'd become a father and a brother within the same year."
"What?" Narcissa drew back, surveying him with a serious expression. "What test?"
"Draco!" Hermione squeaked. They weren't planning to share that with anyone aside from her mother, as no one else knew it had been a possibility.
"Don't worry, it was negative, as I said!"
"Still! You simply must be more careful, Draco!" lectured Narcissa sternly. "I am not prepared to become a grandmother at this stage of my life. I'm only forty-five. I'm expecting a baby. Hermione has just accepted a position in Severus' apothecary and he needs to know he can rely on her. Do either of you have any idea what a commitment parenthood is? You absolutely cannot have children for at least another ten years! Understood?"
"Of course, Mother." He rolled his eyes, but Hermione looked relieved.
"We understand."
"Bloody hell," said Severus. "Duchess? Duchess!"
The puppy tore into the drawing room, skidding and nearly falling over when she tried to stop too quickly at her beloved master's feet. She sat and actually seemed to smile. She was indeed a happy dog.
"Duchess, tomorrow I am taking you to a veterinarian to get fixed. Understand?"
She wagged her tail.
"Good girl. Now let's finish setting up for this damn gala. The sooner it starts the sooner it'll be over."
"He's positively charming, Mother," Draco muttered sarcastically, close to his mother's ear. "It's clear why you're smitten with him."
Hermione giggled. Narcissa grinned. Severus whirled around, glaring down at Draco.
"I heard that, Malfoy."
A/N:
I loved all of your comments on the last chapter! I thought I was being much more subtle than I was with my hints that Narcissa might be pregnant, apparently, because nearly all of you either picked up on it or hoped for it! I just love stories in which Severus Snape becomes a father (or a stepfather, or ends up raising someone else's child for some reason). There are only three chapters left! They're all shaping up to be pretty long since I really should have planned on 34-35 chapters instead of 32, but I'm not going to deviate from the outline now that it's almost done! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!
To answer three specific Qs –
I have not shown Severus' Patronus yet so you didn't miss anything, but it'll come up before the end. ;)
Yes, Duck & Waffle is a real restaurant in London and I chose food off their menu each time I had characters eat there. I've never been but when I saw the name and the menu I immediately added it to my "Someday Soon" list. I hope it's as good in real life as it is in my imagination!
Regarding EuroDisney (now Disney Paris) when I went most of the families I chatted with were from England or Ireland and seemed happy. I also ran into a few German families and one Italian one. I was told there were a lot of French kids there the week before because that was their school holiday, but it wasn't crowded at all when I went. I didn't meet a single other American.
-AL
