I made it up to you guys this time! It only took me three days to put this installment together so I hope you enjoy. Also, I would like to make this an interactive story. So in your next review, let me know what name Draco and Hermione's child should have. I already have the gender picked, so leave both a girl and boy name. If you want, let me know why. I might end up choosing one of the names you guys suggest as I'm not sure what I should call him or her! Oh, and thanks always for your support.
Enjoy!
LCailan
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
The cottage smelled of stew; it made Hermione want to gag and it was all she could do to keep the nausea from rising up and overwhelming her.
She laid in her bed with the comforter pulled up over her head and sobbed into her pillow silently, her frail body shaking from the effort of keeping her shock and heartbreak to herself. As she sobbed, Hermione was aware that Charlie and Angelina had returned and Neville had spent some time telling them what had happened. She could hear the troubled tone of his baritone voice and the way Charlie tried to deflect the growing heavy mood with his jokes. Mixed with that, Hermione could hear Angelina's gentle concern.
She knew that locking herself in the tiny back room would do nothing to assuage their growing worries but Hermione found that the shock at what Neville had revealed made it impossible to move. In the darkness of the room around her, she splayed her trembling fingers along her belly.
Flat.
She pressed gently, a strained hiccup escaping her.
I'm pregnant?
Hermione opened her tearstained eyes and pulled the cover off her head, sitting up. Now both hands were resting protectively across her abdomen as she stared down in shock. Her body trembled. Her heart thumped so violently in her chest that she had trouble breathing in between beats.
It's impossible.
She felt the pounding of her anxiety-ridden heart in ever part of her body…all the way to the tips of her trembling fingers and tiniest toe. She pushed aside the suddenly offending comforter and placed two feet onto the cool, wooden floor.
There was a mirror on the other side of the room and Hermione padded across and gazed into it.
What would I see if this was the Mirror of Erised? What is it I desire the most? Did I not grieve for a child I will never know and wish that things had been different? Haven't I been given a second-?
She stopped her train of thought with a strangled gasp. A tear trickled down her face, sparkling in the shadow dimmed moonlight. She stared down at her thin form swathed only in a long, thin nightgown under Angelina's thick dressing gown. She ran her fingers up and down her flat belly, shaking her head. She hadn't had a chance to experience the emotions she was feeling now.
Closing her eyes, Hermione drowned in feeling. It was a glorious yet terrifying mixture of elation, fear, shock, disbelief, joy and heartbreak. She felt herself grow dizzy from lack of air and the overwhelming need to both laugh and weep at the same time.
A baby! A tiny, little thing inside of her that was growing, changing, and a living, breathing testament to the love she felt for Draco. A baby with his hair and those beautiful, haunting silver eyes – oh how she hoped it would be true!
Trembling fingers curved around her belly with instinctual protectiveness. This time the Ministry would not steal such a gift; this time she would keep it safe so that she could have this – at least this – to remember…
Then tears streamed down her face again, hot against cool flesh, dripping from her chin and soaking into the cotton dressing gown. There was now a new life, a tiny beating heart inside of her and the baby born would have no father.
Neville had seen her flee and heard her sobbing, but Hermione's tears had been only for Draco and the great pain of loss and the unfairness in the world. For how else could she call it but that? How cruel was it that she had lost a man only to find out she was gaining his child?
Suddenly weak-kneed, Hermione sank to the ground near the mirror, curling up into a tiny ball and allowing herself to have a good, hopeless cry. The pain of losing Draco had been magnified ten-fold by the discovery that she was now carrying his child. Her knees locked with tension and her fingernails dug into her flesh hard enough to leave marks. The realization that she was alone and Draco would not be there to help her raise the baby was almost too much to bear.
But I have to! I have to because I promised him I would be happy. I have to try!
And Hermione knew she had to even if it seemed the most daunting task she had ever been faced with. Taking in a shaking breath, she pushed her tear-dampened curls out of her pale, flushed face and stood on shaky legs.
I have to.
Hands cradling her belly, she walked towards the door. Beyond it she heard the trio of voices speaking in low, concerned tones. Hermione could understand none of them but she grabbed hold of the knob just as she took in a long, steely breath.
The conversation stopped when the curly-haired brunette entered the main room of the cottage. Three heads swiveled in her direction and Hermione felt so confused, heartbroken and frustrated that she wanted to hex away all their sympathy.
Angelina was the first to get up and she moved towards Hermione slowly reaching out.
"Don't."
The warning wasn't a harsh one but it stopped the pretty black girl in her footsteps. Her face fell. Hermione's eyes locked on Neville's worried and uncertain expression.
"How pregnant am I?"
There was a silence. She felt Charlie's eyes on her and behind her Angelina's footsteps were soft against the wooden floor. Neville struggled to speak and when he did Hermione heard the tremble there.
"About…five weeks. Some of the-the things…the potions I was working on they…are able to help detect-"
He stopped his stuttering when he realized Hermione was not truly listening instead staring down at her belly with a mixture of shock and realization. Hermione thought back quickly. Not in the barn. Perhaps…at Pansy's secret flat, that last night before their escape from London in the lorry?
She didn't know but there was no doubt in her mind that the baby was a miracle.
"Is the baby all right?"
There was no emotion in her words and she spoke in a clipped, almost harsh fashion. Waiting to hear Neville's hesitant, nervous response was the worst torture and Hermione wanted to grab and shake it out of him in her fear and frustration.
"Is my baby all right?" she said it again, this time with irritation. She looked up and her pale face was contorted with rage. "After everything I've been through – pain, torture, abuse, beatings, hatred, prejudice, loss, hunger and thirst, disease, loneliness and more beatings – don't tell me that this one THING WILL BE TAKEN FROM ME!"
She stood, rigid with fear and anger, hands clenched in tight fists and body shaking with emotion.
"Hermione, you have to calm down-"
"TELL ME!" she cried out.
Of course it was unrealistic to expect that any of them would understand her pain. They didn't know what she had been through and how much she had lost. They didn't know about Draco and his love and their baby…
Suddenly, anger turned to deep mourning and it was as if the fight was gone from her, leaving in it's wake a weakness that caused Hermione to fall to her knees. Charlie jumped up and hurried to catch her as she fell and the curly-haired woman leaned against him, sobbing.
Neville moved as quickly as he was able to join them.
"Hermione, the baby is fine."
Hermione's face shot up and through the tears Neville saw a smile. The tenseness in her body melted away as she slumped fully against Charlie, burying her face into his shoulder. Moments later, Angelina knelt down and helped Hermione to her feet.
"Come, you should eat," She whispered tenderly. "You've got to be hungry."
With a knowing smile she rubbed her swollen belly with affection. Hermione let out a tear infused laugh.
"Famished," she agreed breathlessly, sitting down at the table and finding herself grateful that she wasn't alone and that she would have someone to help her through the coming months.
Her heart was pounding a fierce rhythm inside of her and it whispered of heartbreak and regret that Draco would not be there with her while she carried his child. The stew that Angelina ladled smelled both nauseating and divine but Hermione fought through the illness wanting to nourish her child, to give it more strength, more strength every second so that it would survive and she would give birth to a healthy, beautiful baby. As she ate, she stared down at the table with intensity not wanting to answer the questions that were clearly present in the faces of the three that stood around her. She also needed to think.
She needed to decide where she would go next, what she would do. How she would provide for herself and the child not yet born. Hermione forced herself to remember that now she was free, that Draco had sacrificed much to make sure of it. She wasn't in London any longer; in fact she wasn't even in England! She had escaped the Ministry and now life was once again possessed of possibilities! She could hope again; she could be happy again!
The spoon clattered against the empty bowl in front of her.
How can I ever repay you for what you've done for me?
In her mind's eye she saw Draco's stormy, sad eyes.
Be happy. That's all I want. I want you to be happy.
Hermione knew she'd have to try. Especially since she wasn't living just for herself now, and absently, she put her hand over her belly in a protective fashion. For a long time after they all finished eating, Hermione said nothing.
Neville watched her with a mixture of sadness and admiration. She had been quiet all through supper but he knew his old friend well enough to know when she was formulating a plan in her mind. He gazed at her face pale but for the flushed and dimpled cheeks. Her eyes gleamed with determination and her lips trembled on the edge of a smile as she ate. Physically she sat amongst them but her mind was far away. She acknowledged no one.
He wondered if she would ever speak of the terrors she had endured at the hands of the Ministry; Neville even wondered if anyone would ever know the father of Hermione's baby. A sudden lashing of cold fear filled him. What if she didn't even know? What if they had used and abused her so frequently that there was no way of knowing?
Neville didn't even know he was staring. All he could think of was how he could make it better for Hermione now that she was no longer among the enemies. He jumped a bit when Charlie rose from the table and glanced at him.
"Mate, d'you reckon helping me clean up this mess?"
Neville rose dutifully but he was unable to keep from sneaking glances at the brunette sitting with Angelina.
Oh, Hermione…what have they done to you?
Hermione watched listlessly as Angelina used her wand to clean the guest room where she had been sleeping. As the black girl made the bed with a few swishes of her wand, Hermione picked up the discarded dressing gown and comforter she had dropped earlier. Watching Angelina use a wand made Hermione envious, but she was able to swallow back the feeling of inadequacy. If not using her wand for awhile meant she was safe it seemed quite a good trade-off.
At least I have my wand! Some Muggle-borns will never get theirs back, but I was lucky enough-
She stopped her thoughts when she realized Angelina was watching her keenly.
"Hermione," she began. "I can't imagine what you've been through all these years. I'm sorry for what's happened."
The words seemed sincere but hesitant. For a moment Angelina stared down at the bed between them thoughtfully.
"I just want you to know that no matter how blustery Charlie seems to be about this whole affair, he's only doing it because he cares. But I won't push you to tell me anything you don't want to."
Another pause.
"You're safe here as long as you want to stay. And if you have any questions you can…well you can always come to me."
Hermione hadn't looked at the other woman the whole time she had been speaking but when Angelina stopped for the last time, the bushy-haired brunette looked up.
"Thank you."
She eyed Angelina's burgeoning belly amazed that at some point she would look like that too. It filled her with a sudden bloom of joy and excitement. She offered a trembling, shy smile.
"What will you call your baby?" she asked softly. For a moment Angelina seemed blissfully happy but then in the next a dark cloud shrouded her features.
"Fred if it's a boy," she whispered. The choked sound of Angelina's voice made Hermione's eyes water. The love was evident even if it was unspoken.
"And Roxanne if it's a girl."
Hermione smiled through the aching, stepping closer to the other woman.
"That's lovely."
"Quite fancy," smiled Angelina. Then she reached to hug Hermione for a moment. "You'll have to think about that yourself. And a lot of other things."
Hermione nodded and looked as if she would say something else but didn't.
Angelina walked towards the door so that Hermione could get some rest. She turned around just as her fingers touched the door handle.
"But you don't have to do it alone, Hermione. We're here for you."
The room seemed much sadder and lonelier after Angelina said good-night. Hermione got into the bed, pulling the threadbare sheet and comforter over her body and then stared up at the darkened ceiling. Sleep proved to be elusive.
She thought about her baby. She thought of Draco. Her hand slipped down across her abdomen as a thrill of hope filled her heart again. She imagined herself growing great with child and then pictured a tiny baby with Draco's white-blond hair and beautiful grey eyes. She wondered what she would call her son or daughter; she wondered if anyone would even understand if she admitted what had happened between herself and Draco Malfoy. Would they, just like the Ministry, find it impossible to let go of certain prejudices?
As she took a breath, trying to push that last, unwelcome thought from her mind, Hermione thought of Ginny and the children and her eyes filled with hot tears of joy and disbelief.
I'm going to be a mother! This time, I'll make sure that nothing happens to the baby! This time they can't take it from me!
With a smile, Hermione pictured Lily with her lilting laughter and reddish-brown curls. She thought of little James wearing an impish smile, his hair a mess just like his father's. And Albus with his sweet demeanor and eyes much to knowing for a small boy.
I'm going to have a child!
Something Ron hadn't been able to give her; she had never dreamed of having a family and now…
Hermione's last thought was a whispered prayer to God, asking Him to protect her child.
Two months later
WERA hideout
Blaise had postponed the inevitable. It had been weeks since the letter from Malfoy and nothing since. A part of him knew that he was hoping in something that may have long been dead; Draco's letter might have been his last big hurrah. Could it be that he was dead?
Yet something had kept Blaise rooted in place, staying on with the WERA when he should have been protecting Lavender and Daisy. His primary focus was his family; he had promise himself that his girls would be safe and he would put no one before his family, even those he called friends and allies. This was war; he would not be casualty and he wouldn't allow Lavender to suffer any more than she already had.
He stood like a tall, unmoving sentinel watching the road ahead of him for the next WERA delivery. These came often, mostly in large, covered trucks to be undetected by the Ministry or those who might work in London. Very few things were magicked these days to avoid detection by the enemy. Three days a week he had stood here watching, doing small tasks for the Alliance and avoiding the front lines of battle.
Blaise had decided that being dubbed as weak was not a bad thing if it meant his family was well. He would not risk himself any longer.
Let others do such things; I have a family.
He would not think of others who had been in his position and had done more than what he was willing to do.
Blaise squinted in the too-bright sunlight as it reflected off of the newly fallen snow.
So why I am I still here?
It was a question he could not answer and one that perturbed him each morning. Be it a horrible thing or not, Blaise Zabini no longer cared much for the cause of the Alliance, having done what he needed to protect Lavender and make sure she reached safety. He had helped the WERA and the WERA had helped him.
We are even.
He had planned on leaving for Asia shortly after the first major snowstorm had hit Wales and England. Then, there had been the letter from Malfoy and something in Blaise had stirred with aching and a strange loss.
We had been friends.
If such a thing existed in Voldemort's world.
So he had stayed, postponing the exodus with his family and waiting for Malfoy. Blaise had convinced himself that a letter like that one had meant that surely, Draco was not going to abandon the woman he loved and that he would soon follow her from England.
Week after week he had waited for news, waited for a letter, waited for the small, gold coin that Malfoy had magicked with the Protean Charm to glow.
But none of that had happened. Malfoy had not arrived.
He is dead.
Strangely enough, Blaise felt a dark, empty hole where emotion should have been. Was there guilty? Surely, for Blaise felt he ought to have felt a loss. Certainly there was confusion.
He was my friend. If anyone should feel a loss, it should be me.
But there was only that dark, strange hole. And Blaise didn't understand it. In the distance, a group was walking towards him down the lane. There was a flash of red-gold in the bright sunlight.
Weasley.
The thought was none to welcome for Blaise had begun to find the chit rather unbearable with her incessant questions about Hermione Granger.
At least this time, I have news for her.
She was the only other person who knew of the relationship between Granger and Malfoy. Did she believe he was dead? Would she be able to tell Granger if it were true? How would she react when she found out Granger was knocked up? What if the baby wasn't even Malfoy's? There were too many questions and Blaise had no real desire to ponder any of them. He only wanted to take his family and Apparate to a place where the Ministry or WERA would ever find them.
Bloody impossible.
He stared down at his hands thoughtfully. Another, disturbing thought assaulted him. What if Malfoy wasn't dead? What if he had turned cowardly and fallen back in with the Ministry, begging for their favor once more? For how many were strong enough to resist such a force? Yes, the resistance would always be there and Blaise knew undoubtedly that the Ministry would one day fall, but in the meantime…
It sickened him to think that anyone who had gotten away from such shackles would willingly return. Cowardice angered him. Especially if Malfoy knew Granger was with child had had still left her.
Disgust churned in the pit of his belly so violently that Blaise nearly retched. He swallowed back his bile and it left a filthy, oily taste in his mouth.
If he was ever to make such a choice I would first see him dead.
Rage flowed through Blaise, making his heart race and his blood boil. There was the emotion he did not feel at the loss of a friend. There was feeling he should have had at the notion that Draco might never come back.
Let him be dead.
Ginny's hair gleamed like a fiery waterfall as she waked ahead of Seamus down the gravel and snow covered lane that led from the WERA hideout. The old house loomed large and foreboding behind them shielded by only the strongest charms and protective spells. Ahead of them and down the gravel road was Blaise, who often times served as a lookout to gather supplies and take messages. Most of the WERA operated under the radar of magic in hopes of being undetected until they were ready to strike. The more time, the better.
Blaise was a tall, sinewy, black shadow against pristine white snow. Like the stain of sin on an innocent child's soul. Ginny was only half aware of her feelings towards the former Slytherin. He had been, after all, just like the other Death Eaters. The Mark would always taint him. She would never truly trust him.
But there was something…more about Blaise Zabini. Something dodgy and uncertain that made Ginny trust him less than anyone else. But she wasn't able to really explain why. Perhaps it was his half-heartedness when it came to the cause of the Alliance. Or maybe it was the self-entitlement that lay always beneath the surface of his helpful demeanor. She even questioned his influence on Lavender; the more time she spent with him the more aloof she had become. It was impossible for anyone to talk to her any longer.
Then there were Blaise's eyes. More often than not Ginny found she could not catch and hold his shifty gaze; when she did, she realized she didn't want to know what lay beyond the depths of his eyes. But like him or not, he was a source of information; he had served invaluable when it had come to infiltrating the lines of the Ministry.
He helped save Hermione. Even if she's not with us now.
Ginny stopped at the bottom of the hill, abruptly. The three children stopped behind her, their chatter suddenly muted and behind them, she knew Seamus had stopped as well.
For a moment Seamus was mesmerized by that fiery cascade of hair down Ginny's back as he was often times with the small things about her. He admired the way her long tresses seemed to change under the influence of sunlight, one moment a brilliant red-gold and the next a burnished blond. Hers was hair that would be impossible to capture, even by a most gifted artist.
Some days, Seamus wanted to laugh at his musings.
Wise up ya gack ye, he chastised himself mentally, glad that the cold air hid his blush. As if she'd ever look at you the way she did at Harry!
Still, Seamus had a hard time not feeling something for Ginny. She was endlessly patient with her children even in their worst moods. She was determined and brave, fighting on the front lines and unwavering in her loyalty to the Alliance. And her laugh was as clear as church bells on a Sunday morning. She had been Harry's girl for so long. Could she see anyone else as a second chance?
The idea that he might confess to her his growing feelings terrified him, however.
"All right, Gin?"
His teeth chattered as he called out her name. She didn't turn only watching the clearing where Blaise stood thoughtfully.
"Can we hurry? It's fierce cold, it is and I'm about to freeze me balls off."
The boys giggled.
"Dry you arse, Seamus. We're almost there. I just-"
Her affectionate words died on the cold air and Seamus slid down the rest of the hill to stand by her side.
"I'm gummin' for some of McGonagall's hot chocolate, I am. It's the master."
Seamus offered Ginny a grin that he hoped would ease the tension he felt. She rolled her eyes but he could see the hint of an amused smile playing on her full lips. He felt a sudden flood of warmth to spite the bitter cold.
She turned her head so that her brown eyes met his.
"Why do they trust him? I can't quite…sometimes I think he's completely after himself," she whispered shaking her head.
"Sure, he's as Slytherin as they get," Seamus replied with a shrug. "But if ya want, I'll give him a good kick in the arse."
Ginny rolled her eyes good-naturedly.
"Thanks, Seamus. I'm sure that'll be a great help."
Seamus only grinned wider and then looked through the clearing down to where Blaise was standing.
"Sometimes I think he's a bit off his nut," he agreed. "But I think the Alliance trusts him because he helped us with the alienage break-outs."
Ginny remained unsympathetic and sniffed.
"Lavender's his priority. I'd bet all my galleons that he'd turn on us if it served him."
Seamus' good mood dissipated and he hunched into his long winter cloak.
"Sure, we shouldn't forget the good he's done."
Ginny looked slighted.
"I say-"
"I say we hurry. It's cold enough out here to freeze the balls off a brass monkey!"
The boys laughed at this and Seamus nudged Ginny into a quick walk the rest of the way to where Blaise stood.
The mistrust was evident between them. That or it was Ginny who mistrusted and Blaise who was irritated. Seamus was the one to break the cold silence.
"Have you news?"
Ginny searched Zabini's face as Seamus asked the question. Something indefinable sparked in the depths of those dark eyes.
"Aye," said he.
Ginny's heart stopped just as it always did when there was some hope in knowing where Hermione was, what she was doing and how she was doing.
Zabini took a deep breath.
"It's best you know, I wager. She's up the doss and staying with Charlie and Angelina in St David."
Ginny gasped and Seamus looked speechless for once.
"Jayzuz, really!"
"Hermione's p-pregnant?" whispered Ginny.
She had paled so that her freckles seemed to stand out brightly against her pale skin. Without thinking, she gripped Seamus' hand. He closed his fingers around hers.
"We-we have to go to her!"
Ginny's voice was a whisper but there was no mistaking the determination in her brown eyes. Blaise's news did nothing but stoke the fire within Ginny; she had more questions now than she had a moment before. And she would not rest until Hermione answered them all.
A/N: Remember guys, baby names! Leave your suggestions!
