A/N: The italicized portion is a flashback to January 1999.

August 1, 2004 (afternoon and evening)

Hermione was surrounded by a diffuse white light, muzzily wondering whether this was the Limbo Harry had described to her after the Final Battle. No one came to greet her, however. She would have expected Harry at least to make the effort, and perhaps Tonks and Remus as well. And her deceased grandparents, if access to Limbo was not restricted to witches and wizards.

After some period of time, Hermione cracked her eyelids open, to discover the brightness was due to fluorescent lights on ceiling. They were shining directly into her eyes because she was lying on her back, slightly propped up by the tilt of the mattress. From the intravenous line inserted in the back of her hand, Hermione deduced she was in a Muggle hospital, but had no idea how she had gotten here.

She closed her eyes, trying to take stock of her injuries. While she felt exhausted, light-headed and sore throughout her entire body, her shoulders were especially strained, as though she had been twisting and struggling. Worse yet, even through the numbing effect of very strong painkillers, Hermione still could feel an ominous throbbing and a thick bandage between her legs.

She had been so careful, ever since the Death Eaters had gotten to Cho Chang, but it seemed she had not been careful enough. Hermione had no memories of being sexually assaulted, but assumed she had been Obliviated. Still, that did not explain how she had wound up in a hospital bed somewhere in the Muggle world, rather than dead and dumped in Knockturn Alley.

A sharp crack that Hermione recognized as the sound of Apparition broke through the soft humming and hissing of the Muggle medical equipment. Instinctively, she flattened herself into the mattress, reaching for a wand that was not at her side.

"Mipsy is bringing the Blood Replenishing Potion, Master. I is sorry about taking so long, but I is needing to go to the Manor to fetch it."

Behind the hospital's institutional pale blue bed curtains, currently shut tight, Hermione's eyes widened at the unmistakable diction of a house elf.

"Thank you, Mips," came the reply, in a gravelly male voice that Hermione struggled to place. Until now, she had not realized there was another person in the room on the other side of the curtain.

"How is Miss doing?" the elf asked squeakily. "And my youngest master?"

"She lost a great deal of blood, but she'll live," the wizard answered, relief stark in his voice. "Hadrian is well. The Muggles have him under observation. His body temperature was a touch high, but that's not unusual with such a lengthy delivery."

Hermione bit her lip in consternation. She recognized that voice now. It was Draco Malfoy, though he sounded rather hoarse. She thought perhaps he had a head cold, because she certainly could not picture him crying.

"Is they comings home soon?" the elf asked hopefully.

"In a few days, I hope," Malfoy told his elf.

"Mipsy is making sure the house is spotless," promised the elf. "I is going now to clean."

"Thanks, Mipsy." The words were barely out of his mouth when the elf departed with another crack.

As she lay prone on the hospital bed, Hermione struggled to make sense of the conversation and the entire situation. Perhaps Malfoy had found her injured and brought her to a Muggle hospital, although that sort of altruism - towards her, especially - seemed out of character. Or perhaps he had been one of the Death Eaters who participated in the attack that left her confined to a hospital bed with vaginal bleeding and memories that were fuzzy at best. Still, that did not seem to fit, either. Malfoy was a cowardly bully and a prejudiced git, but Hermione never would have pegged him as a rapist.

Even as she had that thought, giving the blond ferret the benefit of the doubt, she was assailed by a mental image of Malfoy poised above her, ramming himself into her naked body with such force that that headboard to which her hands were tied banged into the wall in time with his thrusts. Hermione bit her lip to keep from uttering a sound, as another crack announced the arrival of someone else into the room.

"Mother. What are you doing here?" asked Malfoy. To Hermione's ear, he did not sound pleased.

"Why, I'm here to see him," Narcissa replied, cooing the pronoun with reverent adoration, sounding uncannily like her older sister Bellatrix when referring to her beloved Dark Lord. "I followed Mipsy after she left the Manor. Weren't you going to tell me he had arrived?"

Hermione wondered who Narcissa was talking about. Certainly not Voldemort - he was dead and gone, defeated by Harry, and never coming back. But the Death Eaters still were out there, regrouping and growing stronger. Perhaps they had a prized recruit who Narcissa was anxious to meet.

"I want to see him!" Narcissa reiterated imperiously. "Where is he?"

"Hadrian's just down the hall, Mother," Malfoy answered wearily. "Please, keep your voice down."

"Why aren't you with him?" she demanded, but in a softer voice. "I can't believe you left him unattended!"

"I'm waiting for Hermione to wake up. The Healer expects she'll be out for another hour, at least," he explained.

At that, Hermione's eyebrows rose. Since when were she and Malfoy on a first name basis? And who was Hadrian? Why was Narcissa so upset at the idea of him being left unattended? Her normally sharp mind was too foggy right now to supply any sensible answers, to her growing alarm.

"She's still alive?" Narcissa asked. To Hermione's ears, the blonde witch sounded both surprised and disappointed.

"Is that a confession, Mother?" Malfoy asked, dangerously quiet. "If so, you're losing your touch. She survived."

"Oh no, darling. I didn't curse her," Narcissa said.

"Was it Father, then?" Malfoy asked. Hermione shivered on the bed. He sounded positively murderous.

"Not at all. Neither of us would ever act directly against Miss Granger in a way that puts you at risk of breaking your Vow to her. Hadrian triggered the curse, but it's really the fault of a witch dead for hundreds of years," Narcissa answered. "There's nothing you could have done to prevent it."

"What do you mean, Mother?" Malfoy growled. "And I warn you, I am not in the mood for your little games."

"Take me to Hadrian, and I would be pleased to explain on the way," Narcissa suggested. "I'm sure you don't wish to risk raising your voice and disturbing Miss Granger's recovery."

"Alright, Mother," Malfoy agreed, clearly unhappy.

Hermione lay still, listening to their footsteps recede down the hallway. She clutched the sheets, shaking her head as her memories continued to come back to her, including her meeting with Narcissa at Hogwarts, and just what she had agreed to with that hateful, double-crossing witch.

(x) (x) (x)

Draco walked with long-legged strides down the hospital corridor, refusing to wait for or even look at his mother. To Narcissa's maternal eyes, he looked wretched, even paler than usual, with shadowed eyes and tousled hair.

"When was the last time you slept, my dragon?" she asked with concern.

"I don't really remember," he said with indifference. "Maybe a couple of hours when they brought Hermione back to the room?"

"You need to rest, Draco," Narcissa scolded lightly.

"Hermione bled out and nearly died after thirty-some hours of labor and all you care about is that I'm not well-rested?" Draco hissed as they reached the nursery, appalled at her callousness.

Narcissa did not bother to answer, pleased to see that the nursery door was locked and that Draco had to present some sort of charm on his wrist to gain access. He had to show it again to the attendant before he was permitted to take Hadrian from his bassinet. She still was aghast that her son had left his son - her grandson - alone with Muggles around, but at least the baby was not entirely unguarded.

Draco cradled the sleeping, swaddled newborn in his arms, pressing a feather-light kiss atop his head, covered with translucent white-blond hair so fine that it looked like down.

"He looks just like you did when you were born," Narcissa noted, overcome with emotion that her baby boy had a beautiful baby of his own.

"Would you like to hold him?" Draco asked.

"Please!" Narcissa said eagerly, reaching out her arms.

"Tell me about the curse, first," Draco said, pulling the baby away.

Narcissa arched a delicate eyebrow at her son's unsportsmanlike tactics. "The curse was placed by a Malfoy wife on her husband and all his male descendants more than five hundred years ago."

She held out her arms. "I'm certain that cuddling Hadrian will help me recall some more details."

Draco made a face, but handed the baby over.

"Lucius the First, your father's namesake, was going to set aside the witch he had married in favor of a Muggle, the so-called Virgin Queen of England, for all that she spread her legs readily enough for a married wizard," Narcissa began.

"His wife, Eve Gaunt, was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself and a powerful witch in her own right. She would not abide any woman taking her place, let alone a Muggle, so she cursed Elizabeth Tudor to be barren. When Lucius then turned his wandering eye to another red-haired chit, this time a Weasley, and got her with child, Eve cursed him and the entire Malfoy line."

"What is the nature of the curse?" Draco asked, grey eyes like steel.

Narcissa adjusted the baby in her arms. "It kills the mother of any illegitimate Malfoy with uncontrollable hemorrhaging that begins the moment the umbilical cord is cut. The Weasley witch died within minutes of giving birth to a boy, who Eve raised as her own. The curse killed several other women over the years before Malfoy men learned to use contraceptive charms if they valued their whores' lives. Or not, if they cared for their bastards more than their mistresses."

"Did Father know about this?" Draco demanded.

"I had to remind him," Narcissa admitted. "Knowledge of the curse is passed along from one Malfoy wife to another, since it ensures we can never be supplanted. I never did get around to telling Astoria because you were faithful to her until you took up with Miss Granger. The most important thing is that you were kept entirely ignorant of the curse, so you did not violate the terms of your Vow to her."

Draco looked disgusted. "I can't believe you did that, Mother. You set up Hermione like a lamb to the slaughter."

Narcissa sneered. "She was hardly a little innocent." She pursed her lips in thought. "I wonder how she survived. Perhaps the curse was weakened because you and Astoria are divorced."

"Or perhaps it was weakened because Hermione and I are handfast," Draco said coldly. "With Hadrian's birth well within a year and a day, we're as good as married."

"Oh, Draco, how could you?" Narcissa said in reproof. "There was no need for you to keep your dirty little pet now that she's served her purpose." She shook her head. "You always were such a sentimental boy. Your father will be so disappointed in you."

"Where is Father?" Draco asked in sudden alarm. "Tell me right now."

"Oh, he should be along any minute." Narcissa smiled fondly at the baby. "Lucius will trace my Apparition to get here, but I couldn't wait to meet my grandson."

Draco gave her a horrified look and dashed back towards the hospital room where Hermione was lying, unconscious and helpless.

(x) (x) (x)

"How do you take your tea?" Hermione asked the icy blonde seated across from her in Professor McGonagall's sitting room, striving to keep this meeting on a courteous footing.

"Milk, one sugar," Narcissa Malfoy replied. She took the cup and saucer from Hermione's hands with no evident distaste and had even shaken hands upon her arrival at Hogwarts. Hermione noticed, however, that the older witch kept her lace gloves on to avoid any actual contact with a Muggleborn's skin.

"Would you like some shortbread?" Hermione inquired, maintaining the polite fiction that this was a social visit rather than a refined attempt at blackmail, triggered by Narcissa sending her an owl with a newspaper advert for the dental practice of Monica and Wendell Wilkins in the suburbs of Brisbane.

"No, thank you," Narcissa shook her head. "Did you have a pleasant New Year?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione said with sarcasm. "My best friend died less than four months ago, I can't leave Hogwarts Castle for fear of being Snatched, my parents don't remember who I am, and the Wizengamot just passed a law that will pay me a paltry 7500 Galleons in exchange for Obliviating more than seven years of precious memories and taking my magic. Given those circumstances, I partied like it's 1999."

The reference to the Muggle song and its apocalyptic lyrics flew right over Narcissa's head. "But it is 1999 now," she coolly pointed out. "Things could always be worse. Your parents may not remember you, but they are perfectly safe and happy in Australia."

"For now," Hermione conceded. "Will they remain so if I refuse to undertake this Vow with Malfoy?"

"There are no guarantees in life," Narcissa said, with an elegant shrug of her shoulders. "The odds in their favor are sharply higher if you agree to accept my son's protection. Will you?"

Hermione was taken aback at the unexpectedly blunt question. "Perhaps, perhaps not. I asked you to meet with me so I could understand why you made this offer. Malfoy and I have never gotten along, to say the least, and I can't imagine he would have any desire to protect me, let alone my Muggle parents."

"Motives should not matter when you have the guarantee of an Unbreakable Vow," Narcissa deflected.

"When I am dealing with a family whose very name means 'bad faith,' and a Death Eater who wanted me killed when he was still only a boy of twelve, motives do matter," Hermione insisted. "What's in it for Malfoy?"

"Draco needs to take the Vow with a Muggleborn, and you are the best for his purposes." Once again, Narcissa sidestepped her question.

The two witches fenced over tea, Hermione persistently asking why she was the best for the Malfoys' purposes, and Narcissa refusing to provide a straightforward answer with equal obstinance.

Finally, Hermione threw up her hands in frustration. "Unless you tell me what Malfoy gets out of this, my answer is no."

"You do realize that this offer of protection extends not just to you and your parents, but to any children you may have?" Narcissa offered, sipping her tea and sweetening the deal. "It was tragic what happened last year at King's Cross . . . those little Muggleborns, so eager to go off to school, dragged away from the platform for stealing a wand. They were only eleven. I don't believe any of them survived more than a month in Azkaban."

Hermione's cup clattered in its saucer. She and Harry had been distraught about that, but there was nothing they could have done to save or even warn those unknown children. She made a mental note to go to Kingsley and extract a promise that no Muggleborns would be sent to Hogwarts while this repatriation law remained in effect.

"You are a powerful witch, despite your blood status, and your children will be magical as well, even if you breed with a Muggle," Narcissa continued. "When they are of an age to attend Hogwarts, you will not be in position to protect them in the magical world, but Draco and his heir will be."

There was faintest inflection in Narcissa's voice when she mentioned children, a hint that sent an alarm bell tinkling in Hermione's brain. The pieces clicked into place. "You want me to have a child with Malfoy," Hermione stated in a flat voice.

"To be clear, I do not want this to happen, but my son begetting a heir on you is better than nothing," the blonde answered candidly.

"Is Malfoy unable to reproduce with a pureblood witch? Too much inbreeding will do that," Hermione commented spitefully.

Narcissa's blue eyes turned even colder. "This has nothing whatsoever to do with Draco's lineage," she snapped. "There are rumors of a curse placed by the Dark Lord on his followers, to end the pureblood lines. You are nothing more than a contingency plan, should those rumors prove to be true."

Hermione pointed out a very obvious flaw in Narcissa's contingency plan. "You do realize that the Vow will prevent Malfoy from doing anything to me without my consent. He can't rape me."

Narcissa looked unconcerned. "He won't need to. Draco is an attractive young man, and quite charming when he wishes to be. While he tries to be discreet, I am well aware that he has no difficulties in persuading witches to go to bed with him. You'll be no different, once you've forgotten your history with him."

Hermione shook her head, now realizing where Malfoy's arrogance came from. "That would never happen. Also, he'll still remember his history with me. Do you really think your son wants to have sex with a Mudblood that he hates?"

Narcissa gave her a pitying look. "Do you really think sex is about love? For men, it's about power. Draco wants you precisely because you're a Mudblood he hates."

Hermione bit her lip. "You can't expect me to agree to sleep with Malfoy, not even to save my parents!" she protested, knowing it was probably in vain.

"I will never understand the self-righteous morality of Gryffindors," Narcissa muttered to herself. "Miss Granger," she said more loudly. "To be clear, I am not asking you to have sex with my son. Even if you gave me your consent today, it would be meaningless once you were Obliviated. All that I am asking is that you agree to accept Draco as the Death Eater responsible for your safety in the Muggle world and then let the chips fall where they may."

"Aren't you also asking me to hand over my first child to Malfoy, like he's Rumplestiltskin?" Hermione asked with suspicion. Narcissa's proposal now sounded far too reasonable. She was certain that she always would recognize Malfoy as a viper, even without her memories, and would send him packing. But it wasn't like a Slytherin to give something for nothing, so there had to be a catch.

The blonde witch looked at her with clear calculation. "I am not asking you to hand over your child to anyone. You and Draco will work that out amongst yourselves. But is it so inconceivable that you would give a baby up for adoption, particularly if he were the unwanted result of a one-night stand?"

It was a fair question, and it shook Hermione to realize that was probably exactly the course of action she would take. Narcissa's offer now sounded almost too good to be true . . . .

"I'll also want a magical contract with you, to make sure my parents aren't harmed," Hermione said abruptly. "And as part of the terms, I want you to modify their memories so they remember me as their goddaughter."

"Done," Narcissa agreed, with a pleased gleam in her eyes.

Hermione was shaking on her hospital bed, not wanting to believe that she had agreed to Narcissa's proposal and ultimately had a baby with Malfoy as a result. She hated to think that her judgement and instincts were so flawed that she had voluntarily engaged in an intimate relationship with Draco Malfoy, the youngest Death Eater ever Marked and the bane of her existence at Hogwarts. Still, her memories were rushing back, and there was no denying them or the physical evidence provided by her own body.

She held up her hands, tanned from the summer sun, but without the ink stains and raggedy cuticles she was used to seeing. Instead, they were well-manicured and her nails were even polished, something that only happened when Ginny insisted and did it for her. But while the redhead favored bright colors, Hermione's fingernails were painted a delicate shell pink. There also was a ring haphazardly shoved partway down her right index finger, and a white line on the fourth finger of her left hand, presumably where she normally wore it, even though she never wore rings.

She removed the ring and carefully examined it. It was stunning, with rubies running along the gold band and bezel, which was also encrusted with diamonds and a single pearl. Hermione did not know much about jewelry, but she could tell this was goblin-wrought and hundreds of years old. There was magic in the ring, apparent even without a wand to diagnose its precise nature. She could sense very old and still-powerful protective charms forged into the ring, as well as a new and makeshift concealing spell. Absently, she replaced the ring on her finger, in the usual place for an engagement ring or wedding band.

In doing so, Hermione noticed the bezel was hinged and pried it open with a fingernail, heedless of chipping her pretty nail polish, hoping to find some indication of the ring's provenance. Instead, she found herself staring at miniatures of herself and Draco Malfoy, both of them looking a few years older than she expected. It was becoming more and more apparent that she had been playing house with Malfoy for some period of time, and now was recovering from a traumatic childbirth rather than an attack by Death Eaters.

Hermione continued her investigation, untying the neck of her hospital gown and pulling it open to examine her tender breasts for further confirmation. There was a single love bite on the left one, but none of the bruises and imprints of teeth she would have expected if she had been raped by Death Eaters. Her breasts were larger than she could ever remember seeing them, the nipples several shades darker, and they felt very full. She remembered Ginny struggling through her depression at Harry's death to nurse little Jamie right after he was born, and her friend's breasts had looked much the same.

Looking around the curtained space encircling her bed, Hermione searched unsuccessfully for a newspaper or magazine, anything that would give her the date. She frowned in annoyance as yet another crack of Apparition disturbed her train of thought. Really, this was a hospital room, not King's Cross station!

Silently, she adjusted her hospital gown, not having the time to retie it, and lay back on the mattress to feign unconsciousness. As much as she hated playing possum, she was too weak and vulnerable without a wand to do anything else. She kept her eyes closed and her body limp as the curtains around her hospital bed were drawn back with a sibilant sound.

"Well, what do we have here?" drawled a male voice, almost like Draco's, but a shade deeper and with a nasty undertone.

Lucius Malfoy, Hermione's racing mind supplied. Now I know why Malcolm Foy - Malfoy - refused to let me meet his father. The pureblood's disgusting proclivities towards women of supposedly inferior blood status were well-known. Hermione had thanked every deity she knew of that Dobby had so quickly helped her, Harry and the others escape from Malfoy Manor. She had been tortured and carved up by Bellatrix Lestrange, but Lucius had not had time enough to rape her.

"Ripe like melons," Lucius observed, pulling down her unfastened hospital gown to grope at her exposed breasts. "My son is a very lucky man."

Hermione forced herself not to scream, retch, or flinch, though she felt like doing all three.

"Leave her alone, Father!" Malfoy commanded from the doorway.

"What's the harm, Draco?" Lucius inquired with nonchalance, but he did remove his disgusting hands from her person. "Your Mudblood's out cold. A pity, really. From what you've told me, she's ordinarily a responsive little thing." Hermione could hear the leer in his voice.

"Move away from the bed," Malfoy ordered. "She needs to rest."

Mercifully, Lucius obeyed his son, closing the curtain as he withdrew. Hermione tilted her head to listen, hoping the Malfoys' conversation would dislodge more of her memories and help her figure out what was going on, and - more importantly - what she could do about it.

(x) (x) (x)

Draco loved his father, despite Lucius's many and varied flaws, but he had never in his life been closer to hexing him, painfully and permanently. "You are never to touch Hermione again. Understand?"

Lucius nodded. "What is this place?" he asked scornfully, oblivious to the magnitude of his offense.

"It's a Muggle hospital," Draco replied curtly. "This entire wing is for expectant mothers and newborn babies."

"It's cleaner than I expected," his father commented. "I should have thought a dirt floor and some filthy straw to lie upon would be sufficient for a Mudblood to give birth."

"Not when my grandson is the one being born!" Narcissa stated from the doorway in a icy voice, before Draco could even find the words to express his outrage. "Isn't that right, Hadrian?" she asked the baby nestled in her arms. "So bright, so beautiful . . . my precious."

"He looks small," Lucius said critically.

Narcissa rounded on him. "Hadrian's the largest baby the nursery - the Muggle Healer told me so! He weighs almost a kilogram more than Draco did when he was born," she stated with immense pride, as though she had pushed him out herself.

"Really?" Lucius said, sounding pleased. Draco watched as his father held out a pinky to Hadrian, chuckling when the baby grabbed it. "He's got a strong grip," Lucius said with approval.

"Shall we go?" he asked his wife. "Are you fine to Apparate with the baby?"

"Wait, where do you think you're going?" Draco objected.

"Back to the Manor, of course," his father said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Your mother will get Hadrian settled into his nursery with a nanny elf, and you can join me for a celebratory Firewhiskey once you've altered your Mudblood's memories. A tragic stillbirth, or perhaps have her in the hospital for some accident unrelated to pregnancy if you feel up to Confounding some of the Healers."

"I'm not going to do that to her," Draco protested. "Hadrian needs his mum." Uneasily, he noticed that his father had his wand out, and drew his own.

"I told you he'd be difficult about Miss Granger," Narcissa glared at Lucius.

"It would been much easier if she'd just died like she was supposed to," Lucius said, annoyed.

Draco thought quickly. He really had no desire to duel his parents, especially not with Hadrian and Hermione in the room, but he knew neither Lucius or Narcissa would balk at Stunning him or even placing him under the Imperius Curse if it served their interests. He knew, too, that his parents fought well as a team. Some Slytherin slyness was in order if he had any hope of keeping his newborn little family together.

"Really, Mother, I can't believe you're so willing to concede to Lucretia Flint," he drawled.

"Whatever do you mean, Draco?" Narcissa asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Why, I mean that she already has a grandson and a granddaughter, and I know for a fact Marcus is planning on having at least one more baby with Katie," Draco replied.

He turned to his father. "You've heard of the phrase 'a heir and a spare,' haven't you, Father? It seems a bit short-sighted to stop with just a heir, particularly since Hermione and I don't have the fertility problems that plague so many of the older families."

"Lack of purity aside, she is good breeding stock," Lucius conceded. "I'm sure you would find it no hardship to plant another baby in your leman's belly as soon as she heals." He exchanged a smirk with his son.

Narcissa sighed. "I suppose the damage already has been done," she said. Draco knew she was referring to the handfasting. "And I would like a little girl to dress up."

"I'll try to take your preferences into account with the next baby, Mum," Draco grinned cheekily.

"Hadrian needs to grow up knowing our world," Narcissa said, seriously.

"I'll bring him to visit the Manor as soon as next week," Draco promised, relieved that his parents had so easily come around. And next week, when Hermione and Hadrian were at no risk of being caught in the cross-fire, he would be having serious words with his parents about their plotting to end his love's life.

"Next week and every week," Narcissa insisted.

"I'll see you next week," Draco reiterated, eager to get his parents out of the hospital. Given their willingness to stand by and let Hermione die, he was making no promises about future visits.

Draco walked them from the room, his mother still carrying Hadrian, blissfully unaware that Hermione was awake behind the curtain, had heard every word that he said, and was incandescent with rage.

(x) (x) (x)

As soon as the Malfoys left, a nurse bustled into the room to check Hermione's vitals. "Good afternoon, ducky. Glad to see you're awake. How're you feeling?"

Hermione vaguely recognized the plump, red-haired woman. "Like I was run over by a lorry. Can you tell me what happened?"

The woman clucked sympathetically. "You had a lengthy labor and delivery followed by postpartum hemorrhage, one of the worst I've seen. When you were on the operating table this morning, I honestly thought you weren't going to make it, but the bleeding just stopped. It was like a miracle."

Or magic, Hermione thought, thinking of the protective enchantments built into her ring. "Why are my memories so hazy? I really don't remember anything." Like being pregnant. Or shagging Malfoy to get pregnant.

"That's only to be expected. Short-term memory loss is a common side effect of the anesthesia you were given," the nurse explained, fastening a blood pressure cuff around Hermione's arm.

"Is there anything I can do to help the memories come back?" she asked.

"Time and rest, dearie. Hmmm, your blood pressure's a bit higher than I expected, with all the blood you lost," she commented. "Did your in-laws get you upset?"

Hermione opened her mouth to deny that Lucius and Narcissa were her in-laws, but then shut it with a snap. She now remembered kneeling in the back garden with Draco, Kingsley presiding over their bonding. Even with an ordinary handfasting, she and Draco were effectively married with Hadrian's birth, and the Blood Rite made it permanent. She was a Malfoy now.

"Upset is an understatement," Hermione said wryly. She had not even held her baby yet, but maternal instinct was kicking in with a vengeance. She clenched her teeth in anger at the possessiveness Narcissa and Lucius had exhibited towards Hadrian and felt literally sick when she thought about their casual attempt to take him away from her. "How soon will I be up and walking around?" she asked, abruptly.

"You lost so much blood that I would say another day or two in the usual course, but you're healing much faster than expected. Why don't I help you to the bathroom now and change your dressing, and we'll see how that goes?" suggested the nurse.

"Fine," said Hermione. Her own magic would help her heal more quickly, and the sooner she could walk, the sooner she could run.

(x) (x) (x)

Draco came back into the room with little Hadrian shortly after the nurse left. She smiled tiredly at the baby and then flicked her golden-brown eyes up at him.

"The nurse said you were awake, and suggested that I bring him to see you," he said. "She also said to get you some juice, for your blood sugar and to help you stay hydrated. I brought you grape juice, since I thought you'd like it the best." The dark purple color also would hide the reddish Blood Replenishing Potion he had added.

Carefully, Draco placed the newborn next to his mother and handed her the cup before sitting gingerly on the edge of the hospital bed. Hermione seemed so fragile right now, and the last thing he wanted was to cause her any further pain.

Hermione stared at the baby, in awe. "He's beautiful," she breathed, taking her first real look at Hadrian. Instinctively, she reached out to hold him close.

"Of course he is," Draco joked. "He looks just like me."

She frowned at that, and he hastily amended his statement. "He has your eyes, though. Look!"

Draco tickled the drowsy baby with one finger and softly called his name until he opened his eyes with a little mewl of protest.

Hermione laughed, even though it hurt her still-sore body. "He's glaring at you!"

"I told you," Draco said. "He really does have your eyes. You give me that exact look sometimes." He smiled at her.

"That's so unusual for a baby to have brown eyes at birth," Hermione observed. "They're almost always blue and darken to brown later."

"Yes, well, he's your son and mine, so of course he's going to be special," Draco stated with pride. The baby opened his mouth, yawned, and began to cry. "Hadrian was fussing a bit, so the nurse thought he might need to eat," he suggested.

Hesitantly, Hermione pulled her hospital gown off her shoulder and nestled the baby's head to her chest. She seemed oddly self-conscious to Draco, even though he had seen and touched her breasts a thousand times before. He sincerely hoped that she had been too deeply asleep for his father's lecherous behavior to have registered, even subconsciously.

"I'm glad your parents are gone. Will they be coming back?" Hermione's tone was tart, and he momentarily wondered how much she had overheard.

"I don't expect them to," he answered. "Did you hear much of our conversation?"

"Just a minute or so, but it was very fuzzy. Still, it was rather clear that they think that I'm beneath you. No better than the dirt under your feet, and certainly not fit to raise my own son," she stated bitterly.

"I don't believe that," Draco reassured her, with true sincerity. "Any of that. I want to raise a family with you." He looked deeply into her eyes. "I love you, you know," he murmured.

"Do you?" she inquired softly, with a sweet, subtle curve to her lips. "I only know I've felt the same way about you for a long time."

Draco missed the dark look in her eyes as she dropped them to the baby, softly stroking Hadrian's cheek as he pursed his little pink mouth, seeking to latch onto his mother's nipple.

"Is there anything you need?" he asked anxiously.

"Something to read, please," she requested. "Today's newspaper and maybe a novel."

Draco grinned at her. "I'll pop downstairs to the gift shop and see what I can find, bookworm." His lips brushed across her forehead, making it clear that was an endearment. "If you want to read, you must be feeling better, and I cannot express how relieved that makes me feel."

When he returned, Hadrian had finished nursing and was asleep on Hermione's lap, while she gazed down at him in awe. Draco wished he had a camera, because it was an image he wanted to capture forever.

They spent the rest of the afternoon quietly, Hermione alternating between reading, napping, conversing with him, and nursing Hadrian as she slowly recuperated. Draco took on a more active role in caring for the baby than he had ever anticipated, walking him around the room when he was fussy, burping him, and even changing a nappy, to Hermione's amusement.

After dinner, which was surprisingly good given the institutional setting, Draco handed Hadrian to his mum for another feeding. Hermione winced as she took the baby, an expression she quickly covered up with a smile.

"Are you in pain?" he asked with concern.

"Whatever they gave me before has worn off," she admitted. "Could you ask the night nurse for some painkillers? And maybe something to help me sleep?" Hermione requested plaintively.

"Of course," Draco jumped to his feet. Anything for his brave little witch. "What should I ask for?" He had no idea what was the Muggle equivalent of Dreamless Sleep.

"Two Percocet and a dozen or so Valium should do it," she replied.

"I'll be right back," he promised. She graced him with a tiny smile before returning her whole attention to Hadrian, now guzzling greedily. The baby had taken to nursing like a mermaid to water.

It took him a quarter-hour and an Imperio, among other spells, but Draco managed to get the pills. When he returned to the hospital room, Hadrian was asleep in the portable bassinet, pulled next to Hermione's bed, and the midwife was just leaving the room.

"Is everything fine?" he asked. He had come so close to losing her, and could not help being frightened that the curse might have some lingering effect. Dark magic cast by one of Salazar Slytherin's descendants was nothing to be trifled with.

"Perfectly fine," Hermione replied. "She just did a quick examination to confirm I'm healing as expected. She said I was very lucky to avoid a hysterectomy, but she also believes the bleeding was a one-time, freakish complication. There is no reason why I can't have more children in the future."

Draco looked at her intently, as though gauging the truth of her reassurance, before nodding once. "Good. That's very good." Despite his words to his parents, he had no intention of getting her pregnant again anytime soon, but he and Hermione both wanted more children eventually. He stroked her shoulder, very lightly, as though she were breakable. "Would you like something else to drink, to wash down your medicine?"

"Some hot cocoa would be nice, if you'd join me?"

"Sure," Draco agreed. As Hermione knew, he had a weakness for sweets, especially chocolate.

He went out to the pantry and began fixing two mugs using packets of brownish-grey powder and hot water before giving it up as a bad job. Stealthily, he closed the door and called for Mipsy.

"Two cups of cocoa, with whipped cream and cinnamon, if you please," he requested of the elf when she appeared. "And some Dreamless Sleep."

"Mipsy is very pleased!" she squeaked in delight, disappearing and reappearing again with two steaming, perfectly prepared mugs and a vial of purple potion. He thanked her and, using a bit of magic, transferred the drinks into hospital-issue styrofoam cups.

"Thank you, it looks delicious," Hermione said appreciatively when he returned to their room. "Would you mind terribly grabbing a creamer from the pantry?" she requested. "I like mine a bit more milky."

"No problem." The pantry was just down the hall. He was gone less than a minute, and Hermione handed him his still-steaming hot cocoa once he returned.

They sipped their drinks in a companionable silence, both admiring their now-sleeping baby, Hermione lying in bed and Draco on the hospital-issued recliner. Mipsy's hot cocoa was doing its job as a bedtime beverage. Hermione could barely keep her eyes open, and he was yawning uncontrollably, unable to keep his head up.

"Sweet dreams, love," he wished her.

She smiled back, a trifle pained, as if her medication had yet to kick in. "Same to you."

A/N: There are nodding references to the works of Prince and Tolkien, with Narcissa channeling her inner Gollum.