Hermione closed her journal. It was quality, not quantity, and dropping a bombshell like that was more than enough for a journal entry that day.

She sighed loudly before laying back on the bed, her hands over her stomach, her mind racing as she imagined the day in her very near future where she'd be as big as a house, unable to see her feet or tie her shoes. That had been Ginny's experience at any rate. She and Harry had had their second son, Albus, just two months ago. Lavender was halfway through with her first pregnancy. Daphne had had her share of…unfortunate luck, and it made Hermione reluctant to tell the witch. She only hoped that there would be a way to let her know without being insensitive.

"Hermione!"

An involuntary smile came across her lips and she sat up. They used the fireplace in the study to get around, and with it being three doors down, Hermione could count how many seconds it would take for Draco to walk into the bedroom. First, he would have had to magic the soot from off his robes, set his briefcase down on the desk, and then make his way to her.

"Three, two, one…"

"Are you feeling better?" Draco asked once he opened the door. Yes, Hermione had stayed home from work that day because she wasn't 'feeling well.' She never thought that she could feel so happy about being ill.

"I am, thank Merlin," Hermione grinned. "I threw up every bit of breakfast that I had after you left. Then I threw up lunch."

"Hell, I'm sorry. Do you think you can handle dinner?" Draco watched as Hermione's face scrunched up and even go pale. He instantly regretted his suggestion and moved to sit down beside her. "We'll skip dinner," he suggested as he rubbed her back. "Obviously you and food aren't the best of pals today."

"No, we aren't," she agreed. "In fact, I think food and I aren't going be very good friends for quite a while."

"What makes you say that—?"

"Check the bathroom," Hermione interrupted him. Draco was now staring at his wife oddly, but he didn't question her other than the arched brow he was sporting. She watched him get up and head into the very room she was urging him to go.

Wizarding pregnancy tests were interesting. There was still peeing involved, except no sticks and no flushing. A spell was said and after two to three minutes the color changed. Pink for yes, blue for no, and purple for inconclusive and the need to see a Healer to confirm. If pink, the darker the color, the farther along you were. Hermione's test had produced an undeniable bright and dark shade of pink, and she held her breath as seconds ticked by once Draco understood what it meant.

Those seconds took ages, and Hermione dug her hands into the mattress as she waited for Draco to finally emerge from the room. When he finally did, she rose to her feet and tried to read his face. Shock was definitely there. It was hard to discern anything else, and she began wringing her hands in anxiety.

"Draco?" Hermione tentatively spoke. "Say something, please?"

Draco blinked. He seemed to have been lost in his own thoughts, but now he was finally seeing her. He raised a shaky hand and pointed to the bathroom behind him. "Is that right?"

"I took it twice," she admitted. "Is…? Is this okay? I know that this wasn't planned. While it is part of the marriage law, we've never talked about when we'd attempt, but—"

Hermione could feel the start of a ramble coming but was cut off immediately. Draco had crossed the room, grabbed her face with both hands, and kissed her. When he pulled away, she could finally see something other than shock in Draco's eyes and it made her tear up instantly. She laughed when he brushed her tears away because it was an utterly futile effort.

"This is absolutely okay," Draco said as he tried to dry her cheeks for the umpteenth time. "At least my mother can stop begging us to make her a grandmother."

Draco had said it with a chuckle, but it quickly died when he saw Hermione's exuberant expression falter. His brows furrowed and he urged her with a finger under her chin. "What is it?"

"Sorry," Hermione nervously chuckled. "I didn't exactly mean to make that face out loud."

"And what exactly were you hoping to hide?"

"I just thought about your father, that's all," she admitted with a slight frown. "He's not going to be happy about this."

"He doesn't matter," Draco quickly replied. "Do I care about him? Of course. However, nothing and no one comes before you and certainly not before our child. He'll get over it —especially if my mother has her way."

"Oh, your mother will be planning the party of the century the moment she's told," Hermione all but groaned. "But no fugitives," she sternly added. "While I'm more than confident that we can handle any idiot who tries something against me, however subtle, I'd rather not have to. There's a difference between risking our lives versus our baby's."

"Spoken like a true mother," Draco complimented. "And I agree. While I have no issues killing any one of them, messy and public murders should be avoided."

"Exactly," Hermione smiled. "So, shall we go tell your parents then?"

"I'll invite them over so we can tell them this evening. Besides, something tells me that you're dying to tell your friends first."

Draco hadn't been wrong about wanting to tell Harry and Ron the good news. Aside from her parents, Hermione had thought of them immediately. They were her family, so it was only natural. After giving her folks a ring (and enduring tears of joy from her mother, Hermione met up with her friends for tea at a small muggle café in London. She sat quietly listening to what went on at the Ministry that day which was filled with accomplishments as well as frustrations. Her mind drifted here and there, and she wondered if she would feel well enough to go to work tomorrow. A slightly disgruntled thought came to mind when Draco haphazardly made mention that perhaps she should take a sabbatical now that she was expecting. While maternity leave was a thing, it still required her to work for the next couple of months. On the other hand, with a sabbatical she could be free for however long she wished (not quite true, but she did have a bit of favoritism). The idea of it had left a bitter taste in Hermione's mouth, because yes, she was pregnant, but that wasn't code word for "domesticated."

"…try snapping your fingers again."

"Think she's catatonic?"

"Or thinking about her latest book," Ron chuckled as he waved his hand in front of Hermione's face. "Oi, snap out of it! The book couldn't have been that good."

Hermione blinked, suddenly aware of her surroundings and embarrassment creeping into her cheeks. She raised her tea to her lips, but her face morphed into something hideous when she realized that her tea was horribly cold. How long had she been lost in her own world?

"Sorry," Hermione mumbled as she set her tea down. "I've had a lot of thoughts going on today."

"Any of those the reason for the impromptu get-together?" Harry asked with a brow raised. "Not that we're not always happy to spend time with you, but you usually plan ahead."

Hermione felt the corners of her mouth tick upwards. "Damn you for knowing me so well. Yes, there's something that I wanted to tell you both." Suddenly she was all nerves and her thoughts were raging yet again. All at once her anxiety was running through every scenario the next couple of minutes could take. Would they be happy for her? Disappointed? Despite years having flown by, Draco still wasn't on their favorite person's list. Merlin, what if their faces turned to horror?

"I'm pregnant."

Hermione had blurted it out and kept her gaze on a tree that stood in the background between her two friends. It allowed her to keep their gaze, but also not directly look at them. From what she could tell, their faces weren't complete expressions of despair.

"Congrats, Hermione!" Ron ecstatically declared. Hermione nearly slid off of her chair because, between him and Harry, Ron was the last person she expected to be spewing support in such an enthusiastic manner.

"Congrats?"

"Yeah, of course!" he continued to smile. "In a few months you'll be free."

"Free?"

"Ron…" Harry hissed beside him, but the redhead was too preoccupied in his selfish joy to notice the trap that he was laying for himself.

"Yeah, from the marriage law. The only reason that we have it is to stimulate population. Once you have the baby there'll be no reason to stay with Malfoy anymore."

"Oh, Ron…" Hermione groaned. "Is that really the first thing that came to mind?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "What else would I think about?"

"Nothing, nothing at all," she grunted as she placed her finger on the outside of her teacup. Draco had taken the time over the course of their marriage to teach and expand her wandless magic ability. It was, as annoying as it was to say, still not as good as her husband's, but in times of emotional upheaval it could either go really well or really bad. As it stood, her tea began to bubble in her cup and boil rather than warm up as she had intended. Hermione sighed and set her hand, and her gaze, in her lap.

"Hermione," Harry called gently to the witch. He did his best not to frown when she looked up at him, but instead cleared his throat and nudged Ron in the arm with his elbow. "I'm sure Ron is also just happy that you're going to be a mum. Right, Ron?"

Ron's brows furrowed as he stared at his male best friend, but with a nudge of Harry's head, Ron's attention was on Hermione, and he instantly deflated. "Oh, Merlin… Yes, of course. Regardless of the circumstances the opportunity to be a mum is fantastic."

"'Regardless of the circumstances,'" Hermione repeated with a grim chuckle. "Even after all this time you still don't believe me when I tell you that I love him."

"Hermione," Ron frowned as he reached for her hand, "I didn't say that—"

"You didn't have to say it. The implication was there, as it always is, where Draco is concerned. So, let me tell you something, Ronald Bilius Weasley," Hermione huffed with a haughty rise of her chin. She distinctly noticed his gulp and Harry cringing beside him. Good of them to sweat, she thought as she released a sneer, "Baby or not, I will stay married to Draco. So, either you deal with it, or you deal with it. Understood?"

Hermione hadn't been looking for a response, and it had been perfect timing that a waitress came and asked if they needed anything. She promptly asked for another cup of tea and chose to stare at the table as an uncomfortable silence filled the air and made things ten times as awkward as it did when Ron opened his stupid mouth. She was tired of the same conversation and the recycled insinuations. At a certain point you just have to concede and, unfortunately, Ron was incapable of doing so. She supposed that was a positive point in his direction in terms of strategy. Keep going until you win. While that may have worked in games like Wizard's Chess, it was a piss poor way of maintaining healthy relationships.

The rest of their tea time was terse and mingled with forced conversation until Harry took the reins and ended it for all of them. Hermione was more than happy to go, albeit sad at the same time, but before leaving Ron pulled her aside, his face as apologetic as a puppy who had chewed his owner's shoes.

"Look, I'm sorry if what I said came off as harsh. I only ever want the best for you."

"What you think is best for me, you mean," Hermione corrected. "I appreciate your efforts, but it's long overdue for you to take in account what I want, and what I've wanted for years now. Can you do that? If not, can you at the very least fake it?"

Ron sighed, but eventually he nodded before pulling her into a hug. There were limits to a Ron Weasley apology, and this was it. Hermione would take what she could get. She imagined that there would be similar thoughts to his with other members of her social circle, but they didn't matter back when she first married Draco, and they damn sure didn't now. They bore very little weight in her life, albeit an emotional strain. No, the only two people's feelings and actions who mattered at this point were her in-laws'.

Since getting married, times with Lucius and Narcissa had been, surprisingly, civil —in a veiled contempt sort of way. They treated Hermione with the respect due her for the mere fact that she was a Malfoy and because doing otherwise would upset their son. On the flip side, the brunette would be in error to ignore the tight lips, ridged gestures, and thin jabs that would be looked on as playful teasing by those who didn't know better. However, there were lines not to be crossed and only certain buttons to push. It made life tolerable and almost…satisfying. Sadistically so, Hermione often thought, because there was a part of her that enjoyed knowing that Lucius and Narcissa were ravenous dogs held on a leash, unable to lash out on her no matter how close she stood or how much she taunted them.

"What are you thinking about?"

Hermione blinked. She hadn't realized that she had drifted off into her own thoughts, nor had she realized that she was smiling. "Nothing," she coughed. She partially turned on her cushioned stool in front of bureau and raised a brow at Draco's I don't believe you, but alright expression. "What time will your parents be here?"

The answer to Hermione's question was answered by a ring in the air rather than from Draco himself. It alerted them to when someone was coming through the Floo. Aside from that notification, a house elf appeared in their bedroom to let them know that Lucius and Narcissa had arrived. Hermione huffed.

"They brought Yule?"

"We don't have a house elf, love," Draco reminded. "They always bring one."

"Only when there's a 'special occasion,'" Hermione reminded. "Just what makes them think this dinner calls for a house elf?"

"The fact that we invited them," Draco smirked. "According to my father, you only willingly tolerate his presence here when good news outweighs your hatred."

"Humph, shows how much he knows. I don't hate him. When I can think of an adjective just as strong but less than that, I'll let you know."

Draco shook his head at his wife before leading the way out of their bedroom and down to the parlor room where his parents would be waiting. Sometimes he still couldn't believe that the witch on his arm had managed to get him to settle on a four-bedroom house. Regardless, he had grown to love it. The quaintness of it. It was something that they had built together, and it was nice to have something that was theirs. His mind briefly wandered over to the fact that Hermione was pregnant. He began smiling to himself as he contemplated the fact that the baby, too, was just theirs.

"You would think you were coming from the East Wing with how long it took you to come down," Lucius drawled as he sat down on an armchair. Draco instinctively looked over at Hermione and, to his delight, she had trained her features not to display the swirl of emotions that wanted to burst forth. His father hadn't been, nor was he still, very keen on the home that they had chosen. Yet another reason why Hermione disliked his company in their house.

"There was no need to rush, Father. It's not like you were going anywhere. Mother, you're looking well," Draco greeted with a soft nod.

"As are you, Draco. You as well, Hermione, dear. I might even say that you're glowing," Narcissa added with a bright smile. Whereas it was customary for Lucius to comment on the house, it had become routine as of late for Narcissa to make comments that alluded to grandchildren. This just so happened to be the one time that she was right.

"Thank you, Narcissa. I assume Yule is working his magic in the kitchen," she added with a disgruntled twang. The Malfoy matriarch proudly raised her chin while gleefully confirming her statement as her son and daughter-in-law took seats opposite them.

"I simply had to bring him. It's not that often that we're the hosted ones when the four of us meet. Was there a particular reason why?" Narcissa added boldly. Hermione was growing tired of this already and looked over at Draco who seemed to be having the same thoughts, albeit with less annoyance than she.

With the subtle nod from his wife, Draco turned back to his mother, his eyes drifting over to his father for a moment before exclaiming, "Well, since you've brough it up, yes." He paused for dramatic effect, watching his mother's eyes light up and his father with a light blond brow raised in quiet anticipation. "Hermione's pregnant."

"I knew it!" Narcissa happily cheered, clapping her hands delightfully. Had she no control over herself, Narcissa may have jumped out of her seat instead. Unlike his wife, Lucius merely nodded to the news, a ghost of a smile twinging at his lips. The upturn surprised Hermione. "Oh, this is wonderful news! We're going to have to do much more than a dinner to celebrate."

"Planning a soiree already?" Hermione playfully teased her mother-in-law.

"Of course. Unlike the norm, this a true cause for celebration."

"Speaking of celebrations," Lucius announced as he rose from his seat, "while Yule is preparing dinner, I know something that we can all do as a family."

"And it requires leaving?" Draco questioned with a furrowed brow. Lucius shook his head, yet still took some steps away from the parlor room and to the archway out of it.

"Not entirely. Would you like to lead the way downstairs? It is your home after all."

Draco and Hermione exchanged knowing glances. As this was their home, naturally they knew what resided below the main floor of their house. There was only one reason to head down there, and so Draco stood, reaching out his hand for Hermione who followed suit. Just as his father suggested, Draco led the way out of the parlor room and to the living room. There stood a large bookcase along the wall in front of a set of couches and glass coffee table. Most, if not all, of the books that stood there had been read by the couple at least twice. Two books were not. One was the fifth book on the sixth shelf and the other was the nineteenth book on the nineth shelf. Draco summoned his wand and with it in hand pricked his forefinger and Hermione's. His blood was placed on the book from the nineth shelf, while Hermione's was placed on the book from the sixth. The wall on the right side of the bookcase disappeared and revealed a set of stairs that would take them three floors below the house. Down there wasn't anything much.

A few cells.

A furnace.

And a body that neither Draco nor Hermione had put down there.

As Hermione had said, her in-laws only brought Yule along for special occasions. Bringing someone along for the family to play with was always a special occasion —especially because Yule was the only magical being that could pop in and out of the basement without the home's owners.

"Where did you find her?" Hermione asked.

"I had a weak moment," Narcissa admitted. "I was out for an early morning stroll, stunned her, and brought her home. The fact that it coincided with your announcement was merely a beautiful coincidence."

"How early?" Draco quickly questioned. Narcissa smiled softly at him and ran a gentle finger along his cheek.

"I wasn't spotted, dear. Your father and I have been at this for a very long time."

"Besides, you're asking the wrong question," Lucius intervened as he slipped his wand from inside of his sleeve. "The better question is whether we play now or later?"

Narcissa's pleasure had been infectious as Lucius' usual stoic features morphed into one of contained excitement. Draco, too, sported a similar disposition, and while Hermione wasn't far behind, her mind was also elsewhere.

Here they were. The Malfoy family had gathered together to spend time with each other, and what was the chosen activity? A torture session and eventual killing. While Hermione's conscience had died long ago, she was filled with an anxiety that had nothing to do with herself but for her future child. He or she would be a Malfoy. It was with a startling fear that she realized her child would be subject to the same monstrosities that they and generations past had indulged in. Could she watch her child do these horrible things? As Hermione surveyed the scene where Draco cast the first curse and his parents looked on, she realized that it was heinously possible. Could she endure seeing her child spiraling down mental instability if he or she was unable to satiate their blood lust? Lucius and Narcissa couldn't, and they had done the worst to ensure that Draco was sane.

Immediately Hermione felt the need to vomit. Everyone was too distracted by their entertainment to notice the change in her disposition —all except one. She was grabbed by the hand and escorted from the basement and to the living room where she sat down and placed her head in her hands.

"Yule," Lucius called, "water."

The tiny creature popped out and back into the room with the water Lucius had asked for and set it on the coffee table in front of her. Hermione didn't waste any time in reaching for it and gulping down. It helped, somewhat, but the screams from downstairs weren't. As if reading her thoughts, Lucius used his wand to slide the bookcase in place.

"Narcissa was…sensitive, let's say, when she was expecting Draco. You are clearly the same."

Hermione was startled when he sat next to her —at a distance on the opposite end of the couch, but still near her. Lucius wasn't the caring type. He showed affect to his wife, yes, and to his son in a way that may have seemed subdue and standoffish, but it was care nonetheless. Towards her, there was more of a mutual understanding. The mere action of pulling her away from the scene downstairs, providing her water, and showing an interest in her well-being was severely off-putting.

"What's wrong with you?" Hermione eventually blurted out. Lucius' tilted his head slightly as he regarded her, and even his staring was making her uncomfortable.

"Would you prefer my usual aloofness and nonchalance towards you?" he asked. So, he did, indeed, consciously recognize his behavior. Of course. A Malfoy was purposeful in everything he or she did.

"Yes," she said immediately. A pause came next, and she bit the inside of her jaw before adding, "I don't know. Quite frankly, I'm not sure know what to do with you like this."

Lucius chuckled. After that he laughed. It wasn't a deep or particularly loud laugh, but it was still more than the norm which added to the unusualness of this exchange.

"Understandable. If it makes you feel better, the extra effort on my part is laborious and cutting. However, you are in delicate condition with my grandchild. A change in behavior and attitude is required."

"Ah yes," Hermione mused. "Mustn't upset the mother-to-be while she's carrying such precious cargo. Tell me, Lucius, is it still precious despite who's carrying it?"

Lucius didn't miss a beat. With the air of superiority that he was so used to sporting, he bluntly answered, "Precious enough."

Bold. Honest. Genuine.

Hermione could do nothing but nod, smile, and reply with, "Now that is the Lucius I know."

Author's note: Holy crap, I did not know I haven't updated this since May... Yet somehow after prolonged absences I always tend to post on this around Halloween LOL. A bit of a filler, but more to follow as the muse has finally started making me happy again. Let's hope she doesn't ditch me *nervous chuckle*

-WP