I adore my beta RESimon so, so much for all the effort she puts into this for me. She's a queen.


CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

The silence curled and stifled, stretching over the void that was left behind in the wake of the Aurors' departure.

"I –" Neville opened and closed his mouth, his brows knitting together as he stared at the empty space where the calamity had just unfolded. "I don't understand."

Hermione's hands were fisted in her dress, the sequins digging painfully into her palms. Severus still held her arm tightly, supporting nearly her entire body weight as though he knew that she would collapse if he didn't.

"You know something." Kingsley's voice was flat and hard, his tone a reminder of why he held the most powerful position in their society.

Her eyes snapped up but passed over him, landing somewhere on the far wall beyond her husbands' gazes. She didn't know where to start, her head pounding as she tried to focus. She could feel the heat of seven sets of eyes upon her, mingled with the empty cold that the absence of an eighth left in its wake.

"He did it." The words were swift, her emotions driving them out in a torrent.

Silence.

"How do you know that he did it?" Arthur's calm, authoritative voice broke through the silence.

This time she met his eyes. "Because I saw it." She untangled her hands from her dress, feeling sharp pinpricks of pain as she did. "Lestrange— he's allowed nothing but the Prophet, isn't he?" she pressed a hand to her chest as it throbbed, images of Lestrange seeing the reports of the ball to be held at their home that night splashed across the pages, the final piece of his twisted puzzle sliding into place. "He waited until tonight to reveal this. He was going to reveal it all along because Lucius would never get rid of it—" She cut off as her chest throbbed harder, the pain blossoming as realization sunk in.

"Hermione," Arthur called, an edge to his voice she'd never heard before. "Talk to us."

She swallowed. "Lucius...he has… a poison. It's lethal and nearly completely undocumented."

"Poison—?" Neville's eyes flashed. "Why would he risk it?"

"It was in one of the books, wasn't it?" Sirius said. "That I sealed away." His voice was flat.

She stared back at him, her eyes speaking the words she couldn't voice. Her world continued to crumble around her as she watched her husband read the truth in her eyes, no longer able to hide what she had been trying to erase from their lives for days now.

"That was what Lestrange told you." Kingsley's deep baritone cut through to her, sliding into her heart like a knife.

"He knew," she said, her throat tight. "He's known that Lucius had it since—" She didn't even know how long because she knew nothing of her own husband, nothing at all— "I don't know how long. He wanted to taunt me— our family. He wanted to break us."

"I know why you didn't tell us," Harry said. His hands were tightly balled in fists, a slow redness creeping over his features as rage settled over him. "Why you couldn't. But why didn't you—"

Her heart constricted. "Your oaths— it was never about whether I didn't—"

"—get rid of it?"

The air felt heavier then, and she sucked in her breath in short pants as she leaned into Severus. For a moment, she was taken back to the day she'd watched Harry take his oaths as he'd sworn to protect their citizens, magically binding himself to reveal any high crimes he should henceforth witness. How could she have told the Minister for Magic, the Deputy Minister, an Auror, two men whose houses have historically held seats upon the Wizengamot—

Severus shifted, his body hunching forward as he hissed his next words. "It is not for lack of effort, Mr. Potter."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "And should I believe that you haven't a clue how Lucius would have acquired—"

"Stop." Hermione straightened as she pulled away from Severus, stepping forward. Her jaw was clenched tightly as she stared Harry down. "You know as well as I that Severus had no part in this."

His mouth snapped shut, yet she could see the muscles working in his jaw as his glare slid between her and Severus.

Arthur stepped in front of Harry, his eyes searching Severus'. "She told you, then?"

"Yes," she answered, her voice thick. She pulled away from Severus, stepping toward her other husbands. "When I figured out what Lestrange was telling me— he knew, he knew that Lucius had it, that he still had it. It was never me they were threatening at all. It was my baby, because of something my husband did—" Heat started to rise in her chest as she thought of all that Lucius had brought down on them.

"Carina." There was an odd lilt to Neville's voice, the sound of it teetering on a dangerous edge. "He didn't give a damn, did he?"

"About any of this. About any of us," Sirius added. "Not that he ever has—" his eyes narrowed as he looked up at Severus. "And I know damn well that you would have protected him until the end."

"Sirius!" She said, stepping in front of Severus' tensed form. "He tried to help me get rid of it—" She watched as Kingsley grasped Sirius by the shoulder, squeezing it gently as he halted the other man in his footsteps.

"Would you have been able to forgive him?" Neville asked. "If he'd tried to…"

"No." The word hadn't been forced, but a simple, resounding truth that had slid out without conscious thought.

Neville started to pace. "But why would he have it? The war— it's over. And even if he'd known Lestrange was out there— there are other ways we could have found him. None of it, none of it makes sense—"

"Unless you account for the fact that he's always been who he said he was," Sirius said, his deep grey eyes meeting Hermione's. "How could any of us really think he'd changed?" She watched as his fists clenched and unclenched tightly. "Do you think getting rid of it would've solved anything?"

Her hands then balled into fists, her nails pressing into the small cuts the sequins of her dress had left behind. She thought of the way Lucius looked at their daughter as if she was at the centre of his universe, the way he kissed her—

"I don't know," Hermione whispered, her fists tightening.

"I never once believed that he changed," Harry said, his voice low and dark. "The papers will be upon us soon," he added, his jaw tight as he spoke.

Her heart lurched as she thought of the journalists that would soon be swarming their home, overwhelming her with questions she knew not the answers to.

"What do we tell them?" Sirius scoffed. "That we've known that he's been a traitor this entire time? Perhaps that we knew nothing at all, despite the fact that we've lived under the same roof for over two years—"

"They'll want a statement," Hermione said, her voice devoid of emotion as she imagined facing the flashing lights of a dozen cameras in her face, knowing that nothing she could say could take the spotlight off her family as they slowly fell apart. She wrapped her arms around herself as she realized she was falling apart, too.

"Saying what, exactly?" Neville said. "That we support him and are certain of his innocence, even though we all know that he did it?"

"I— I don't know," she said. "He's still my husband— but— "

"And so are we!" Harry snapped. "or have you forgotten?"

She stiffened, slowly unclenching her fists. "And what do you mean by that?"

"What he means is that we are your husbands, too." Neville said. "what you do next —it's not just about him. It's about all of us. Our children. Carina is ours as much as she is his—"

"You don't think I have considered this entire family?" Her jaw tightened. "I haven't always done the right thing— but I am trying, I have been trying to salvage what I can of what he's done to us."

Her eyes landed on where Arthur and Kinglsey stood then, their eyes intent on Severus as silent communication passed between them.

"Kingsley— Arthur— I tried," she said. "I never wanted it to come to this, for your careers—" she twitched a hand toward them and drew it back, running it through her hair instead. "I don't know what—"

"Have you considered that it's where he belongs?" Harry said.

"Harry—"

"What will you do?" he asked, his eyes narrowing at the dozen feet of space that lay between them, where Lucius had been taken away. "Put out a statement of support? Forget us and everything our family has gone through because of him?!"

"Potter!" Severus stepped forward, half his body in front of Hermione. As if Harry was on the other side, as if they were foes. The dozen feet between them started to feel like a chasm, widening between them with every word he spoke.

"Stop it!" Hermione grasped her head as she willed it to stop pounding. "Do you want me to pretend that he's not the father of my child? That I'm not married to him?!"

"Maybe we should—" Neville said.

"Let him rot." There was a slight movement in a shadowed alcove beyond them, and she watched as Draco stepped out. His expression was ice cold, his voice emotionless. Her heart shattered as she looked at him, the jagged fragments of it piercing her deep inside.

"Draco—"

He disappeared with a crack of Apparition, her words swallowed in the empty silence he left in his wake.

She looked up at the faces of her other husbands, catching their expressions for a breath of a moment before she was twisting, falling, falling further—

She landed in Severus' rooms. She whirled on her husband as she took in their surroundings, glaring at him. "Why did you do that?!"

His eyes searched hers, and she caught a glint in them that she didn't recognize. "You may return if you so wish."

She tore her wand out of her pocket and her fingers tightened around it, Her grip growing stronger with every second that passed until the carvings on the end of her wand dug into her already bloodied hands.

It clattered to the ground a second later. Her husband was upon her in the same breath, his arms wrapping tightly around her in an embrace that was so uncharacteristic of him, yet was everything she needed at that moment. Her body trembled as if every part of her being ached with the need to sob, to scream — perhaps both.

She screamed first. The sounds were muffled by the folds of his robes, her screams dying on the fabric until her throat went hoarse.

She didn't protest when he picked her up and carried her to the bed, wrapping her gently in the blankets.

"Sleep," he said lowly, combing her hair behind her ear.

They both knew she wouldn't.

She lay in bed for three hours before she stood. She knew that Severus was still awake, could feel his quiet gaze upon her as she slid out of the bed. He didn't stop her when she summoned her wand, and he was silent even as she Disapparated.

She wasn't the only one who had arisen with the sun and made their first destination the nursery. Lights spilled out of the open bathroom door, and she crossed the room and pushed it open slowly.

Draco was inside.

He was bent over the tub, gently rubbing soap into James' hair while the infant watched his toy duck swim happy circles around him. Elizabeth was in a small cot that hovered in the air nearby, her chocolate brown eyes wide as they roved the room.

"I didn't expect you to be here," she said softly.

If he was surprised by her entrance, he gave no indication of it. He let a long beat pass before he responded. "I am a father," his voice was stiff, robotic. "Is it so surprising to find me taking care of my kids?"

"Draco —"

"Go," he said, moving swiftly as he finished rinsing James and deftly summoned a towel, bundling up the infant with ease. Elizabeth's cot followed behind him with another flick of his fingers as he started to cross the cavernous bathroom.

"I don't want to," Hermione said softly, starting to reach out a hand toward him as he passed before pulling it back.

He paused in the doorway, holding James tightly to his chest. "We don't always get what we want, Granger."

She followed him silently, watching as he summoned the neatly folded pile of clothing he'd set out for James.

She swallowed audibly before she spoke. "I wanted to believe that the man I married was—" someone else, she wanted to say. Someone who—

Even her wistful thoughts couldn't complete themselves, the reminder of who her husband stark in the wake of what he'd done.

Draco dressed James quickly as he continued to ignore her, the tension in his fingers only evident to her because she knew every inch of him so well.

Hermione crossed over to Elizabeth's cot and lifted her daughter out gently, cradling the infant in her arms. "Are you alright?" she asked, the words hanging lamely between them. She didn't know why she'd asked. The answer shrouded every corner of their home, unavoidable in its unwavering presence.

He paused, one hand steadying James as he crawled into Draco's lap. "Are you?"

She didn't answer, her silence speaking more than words could.

"Did you ever believe me?" Draco straightened, shifting James to his hip. "Even for a moment—" He cut off, sucking in a sharp breath. He turned to her then, his eyes stormy.

She should have.

"I–" she swallowed, the sensation dry and scratchy. " I couldn't. I had to try. I had to try and see something else because I married him—"

"YOU MARRIED ME TOO!"

James started at Draco's outburst and began wailing, squirming in Draco's arms. Draco looked at her, betrayal shining in his eyes even as he soothed James.

She pressed her eyes shut, trying to quell the way her entire body trembled. "You're scaring James," she spoke around the lump in her throat.

Draco stared her down for a tense moment, a thick vein pulsing at his throat.

His arms were stiff when he handed James to her. Before she could speak another word, he was gone.

X

LUCIUS MALFOY ARRESTED

By Rita Skeeter

The notorious patriarch of the Malfoy family was arrested early Sunday morning, mere hours after a lavish ball was held at Malfoy Manor. While the DMLE has refused to comment, what is currently known is that he is facing charges for high crimes against society. Now, one may ask what crimes exactly may carry such a charge?

This arrest is shrouded in secrecy, as has become natural for someone of Mr. Malfoy's stature. A mere three years ago, Mr. Malfoy faced charges for nefarious crimes he committed during the War that ravaged our society. While he underwent a trial, it was never made public. We all wonder, however, if he will be able to escape this fate a second time. As we know, the Malfoy name and the endless vault attached to the name has brought the family many favours that many of us could only dream of. However, one must ask how far endless wealth can take oneself when all eyes are upon them yet again. This is, after all, not the first war in which he chose to fight on the wrong side…

GRANGER FAMILY IN CHAOS

The public eye is upon the Granger family once more, but for the first time in the two years since its inception, it is not in awe of the family's lavish balls or its newest heirs. Following Lucius Malfoy's arrest, all eyes are upon the family, with its wife at the centre. Born into a seemingly modest muggle upbringing, upon her entrance to Hogwarts the Granger family's matriarch has been known for her keen sense of ambition.

Following the arrest of her husband, however, one must wonder if she has flown too close to the sun. Mrs. Potter-Malfoy-Black-Shacklebolt-Longbottom-Weasley-Snape has married into some of the wealthiest and most powerful families in Britain — and Europe altogether. Other members of this family, of course, include both our Minister and Deputy Minister, as well as Mr. Harry Potter himself. With such powerful names in play, one must wonder if the Granger family's members truly had no idea of the crime Mr. Malfoy committed. Minister Shacklebolt himself presided over Mr. Malfoy's secretive post-war trial and is now ensconced in yet another mysterious dark dealing of the former Death Eater. Is this coincidence…or the unravelling of a more sinister secret? If not a secret, then a cover-up for the ages, at the very least...

X

"Excuse me," Hermione mumbled, eyes still trained on the polished white floor of the corridor as she stepped away from the person she'd bumped into.

She made it only a step before a gentle hand caught her by the arm. "Healer Granger," a familiar voice called.

Hermione looked up to see Healer Browne looking down at her, the woman's hazel eyes soft with concern. "Hello," Hermione said softly.

The moment Healer Browne let go of her arm, she fought the urge to continue down the hall. She forced herself to stay where she was, but her arm twitched nervously anyway.

"Healer Granger," Healer Browne repeated, her voice softer. "Why are you here?"

Hermione tensed, still looking down at her bright green Healer robes. "Where else can I go?" She blinked and turned away, wondering why she'd failed to force out Where would I be? instead.

The truth she'd spoken instead forced a silence down upon them.

She looked up to see Healer Browne's soft frown as the woman scanned her. "Sit with me?" Healer Browne said, gesturing to the hard chairs that were arranged against the wall beside them.

She nodded mutely and sat.

"How have you been?" Healer Browne asked softly.

Hermione stared at the plain white wall ahead of her, not bothering to answer.

"I'm sorry," Healer Browne said. Hermione could feel the older woman's eyes on her, watching her intently. "Is there any way I can help?"

Hermione tried to focus through the barrage of images of all that had transpired assaulting her. Her vision started swimming out of focus, and she pressed her hands to her temples. "No," she forced out.

Healer Browne stood, and Hermione waited for the sound of the woman's footsteps disappearing down the hall. Instead, a shadow fell over her a moment later, and Healer Browne's hand moved into view. The woman's hands were gentle as she gently tugged Hermione's hands down and started pressing her own fingers along Hermione's temples.

"How long has this been going on for?" the woman asked gently.

Hermione's eyes slid upward. "I don't…probably since…maybe before...I don't know."

"I see." Healer Browne ran her hands in familiar movements over Hermione's face. "It is an undisputed truth that Healers make the worst of patients."

Hermione said nothing in response. Another few touches, and then Healer Browne was tugging her to her feet. Hermione followed mutely as Healer Browne pressed open the door to an examination room and pressed Hermione down gently upon the bed.

"It's nothing," Hermione said, her voice robotic. "I've done the spells—"

"We both know that they're best when not performed by oneself," she said.

Hermione fell silent and let the other woman wave her wand across her form. Her vision blurred as she focused on no specific point past Healer Browne's form, her mind well beyond the small room.

Until Healer Browne paused. The way the woman's form tensed and froze had Hermione's eyes snapping to her, searching the other woman's expression. And then her eyes were sliding down, following the woman's gaze to where her eyes rested on a bright white glow resting over Hermione's stomach.

Somehow, the silence felt even more depthless than before.

Hermione pressed a hand to her stomach. She bit her lip as she tried to force it to stop trembling, and felt the sharp tang of blood as she pierced the skin. Pregnant. She hadn't noticed. Hadn't even entertained the thought.

"You'll need to minimize the stress as much as possible," Healer Browne said. The woman's voice was slow and robotic, her eyes not leaving Hermione's stomach as she ran several diagnostics. "You're over a month along, but your weight has dropped. You need rest." The woman crossed the room and picked up a quill, scratching notes onto parchment.

Hermione's eyes traced the woman's rigid form, watching as Healer Browne turned back to her yet still did not raise her eyes to meet Hermione's.

"It's his."

Healer Browne tensed further at Hermione's words. "Healer Granger—"

"After the last time," Hermione sucked in a breath, thinking of times that had been so much simpler— "you used the mistake to figure out exactly how to isolate who the father was without error. And I can see it. I can see it in everything you aren't doing, aren't saying—"

"—Healer Granger—"

"—that it's his," Hermione finished. "Isn't it?"

Healer Browne looked up at her then. The woman's eyes were full of sorrow as they strayed toward where Hermione's hand was pressed against her stomach. Another silence stretched before Healert Browne answered, her voice soft with emotion. "Yes."

X

"Carina, please," Hermione said, her voice strangled over the words.

Carina ignored her mother, twisting away again as Hermione tried to angle the spoon into her mouth. Carina swatted at the spoon, sending yet another dollop of pureed apple to the floor. Hermione tried to ignore the way her daughter squirmed again in a telltale fashion, her face screwing up as yet another tantrum started to surface.

"He isn't here baby," Hermione said softly, watching as her daughter craned her neck, the infant's silver-grey eyes searching every inch of the sitting room anyway.

Hermione put the spoon back into the still-full bowl of food and set Carina down as the child thrashed harder. Hermione watched as her daughter toddled toward the door, Lucius' absence feeling like an ever-widening chasm the more their daughter searched.

Hermione pressed a hand to her too-flat stomach, wondering if her next child would look as strikingly like him as Carina did. She had little doubt that the child would.

"Hermione?" Hermione looked up to see Sirius stepping into the sitting room with Carina wrapped in his arms. Neville followed closely behind him, cradling their daughter in his own arms. "Love—" he hesitated, his hands tightening around the child in his arms.

"What is it?" she asked, standing and anxiously smoothing out the wrinkles in her robes. Before she could ask another question, Arthur and Kingsley stepped into the room.

She reached towards them before pulling her hand back, leaving it twitching at her side as she searched their expressions.

Kingsley searched her eyes for a moment before he spoke. "You may have an audience with him, if you wish," Kingsley said.

She had thought it impossible for the tension that had laced her form in the days since his arrest to tighten further, yet she felt it happen all the same. With it came a shift in the air around them, and she looked up at her husbands. They all watched her, no words passing in the sudden, tense silence, yet it felt like it was lingering with a thousand.

They were waiting. Waiting on a response she could barely form. Waiting on her to decide what she would do, waiting on her to go — or stay — and what that would mean to the marriage they had all now been forced to recall was one borne out of forced circumstance.

She breathed deeply before she spoke. "I need to speak with him."

A ripple passed through the room as the tension shifted towards something she couldn't identify at that moment as her heart lurched and her fingers ghosted over her abdomen.

It was Arthur who spoke first. "Then you'll go."


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