Feburary 26th

"Lucius", Hermione said after standing quietly at the other side of the table for a few moments. "I'm starting to grow afraid of you."

Lucius looked up from The Daily Prophet, raising his brow. "Why would you be afraid of me? I have been on my best behaviour, have I not?"

Hermione made a sweeping gesture across the breakfast table. It was set with black currant tea, pumpkin juice, french toast, chocolate eclairs, fresh fruit, linen napkins and a fresh bouquet of large pink roses. Everything happened to be her favourites, and the flowers smelled divine.

"You are being appallingly sweet", she said, eyeing the eclairs longingly.

Lucius smirked, but stood up and rounded the table so he could pull out her chair. "Am I not allowed to spoil my wife?"

"It's getting worse every day", she said, shaking her head as she sat down. "And you're not the sweet kind."

Lucius snorted. "What kind am I then?"

The corner of her lips twitched as she watched him take his seat again. "The frightening kind."

"Don't worry, dear. Give it another few weeks - I'll get better", he smiled in a conscious effort to appear just as sweet as she accused him of being.

Hermione snorted, and Lucius pretended to go back to his newspaper. But since there was not much there to hold his interest, just the usual drab politics and incessant gossip, he used it primarily as a shield as he stole glances at Hermione. She poured herelf a cup of steaming tea for herself, took a bite of one of the eclairs, and smelled the roses - and he could tell that she did appreciate it. She ate even the drop of chocolate that her finger had just wiped from her lower lip.

"Do you know what that particular rose is called?" Lucius asked when he caught her once again savouring the fragrance of the roses. Hermione looked suspicious and refused to answer, so he feigned nonchalance by looking back at his paper and turning a page before he provided the answer: "Gentle Hermione."

Lucius never knew what to expect from her, but what he got this time was a laugh.

"You're so silly", Hermione giggled.

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Silly?" he asked, unamused.

"Silly", she affirmed and reached for some toast.

Lucius sighed and put his paper down. He leaned his arms on the table and watched her prepare her bread and take a bite, chew it and swallow it down in a way that he knew she, self-conscious as she was at times, would hate. After about a minute, she could no longer ignore him and he was finally able to catch her eye.

"Speaking of names -" he said. "Today is the day, isn't it?"

"It's the predicted date of birth", Hermione emphasized. "Only a few percent are actually delivered on that exact day."

"Still", Lucius insisted. "Are you not curious to hear what I have decided to name her?"

"That you have decided?!" Hermione's chocolate-induced calm was instantly wiped away, and her voice took on a rather shrill note. "I knew you were being too sweet not to have a plan, you scheming -"

Lucius laughed out loud at her outburst. That didn't exactly appease her, but he couldn't help himself. It wasn't until she looked like she was actually about to pour scalding hot tea on his lap that he managed to stop laughing. He quickly stood and took the tea pot from her hands and wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"I am only teasing, my dear", he mumbled into her ear, and felt her relax slightly. "How about we each choose a name and see how they fit together?"

"Only if I get a veto", Hermione muttered back. "I don't want you to pick something creepy."

"Nothing creepy", Lucius promised. "But -"

He hesitated, and Hermione looked up. "What?"

Lucius let his fingers move down to her hand and the set of rings that adorned her ring finger: the emerald stone, and a simple gold band to compliment it. "It is a Black family tradition", he began, "so I realise it might not be very appealing to you... But I do like the idea of naming our child from a star or constellation, just a Draco was."

Hermione turned her hand and squeezed his fingers. "I do too", she smirked. "I'm way ahead of you there."

"You already have a name?"

"Of course."

Of course, Lucius huffed, finding that she would never change. So he simply kissed the top of her head and let her continue with breakfast. He would have to thank Longbottom for growing those roses for him at the Manor greenhouse when he went there today.

Lately, they had spent most of their time at home. It was the only place they both felt safe, since they knew that they were protected both by wards and the fact that very few people knew where they lived. They had heard nothing from their attacker since the beginning of January, and Lucius was getting restless. He felt fairly certain that the person had not given up, but he had no way of predicting his or her next move.

But what he could do was to prepare as far as his foresight allowed. He had gone back to Knockturn Alley to speak to Ms Gallow, and bought a few books that he really ought not be caught keeping in his library. But they had provided him with some answers, at least. The words of his mysterious ancestress, Sybil, echoed within him: magic based on blood can only be cancelled by blood. Did it mean that the attacker still had enough of his blood to try another attack? They had not attempted to gather more, so there was a definite risk.

Lucius had prepared just in case. Working with Ms Gallow, he had found a way to cancel the magic. It was far from certain it would work, given how little control he usually had when the hex struck him, but at least he knew it would be possible. He would do whatever it took, even if he would have to give his own blood.

9 pm.

Hermione had felt odd all day. It wasn't something she could put into words, though. Indeed, she wasn't sure she would even call it a something. She just felt... odd. Her mood was the same, her body was acting the same, she wasn't particularly worried nor was she more relaxed than usual. She just had a feeling that something was different.

Still, she had spent part of the day working through some of the remaining genealogy, attempting to both check Eloise Greengrass's family tree and to look up the relations of the Malfoy wives, but even though she had gotten as far back as the early 19th century, there was still no luck. She had found that Narcissa was related to the Rosiers, but that didn't help much.

Lucius had left for a few hours to check on the Manor, and come back energized from another round of dueling with Neville, and the evening hours had gone by quickly with dinner and a short visit from Harry and Ginny. She hadn't exactly exerted herself, but when darkness fell, Hermione was more than ready to go to bed, and was even tired enough to hope for a few hours of undisturbed sleep.

Sleep had been a luxury she'd not been able to enjoy lately. She found it nearly impossible to find a comfortable position to sleep in, and if she did, she was invariably woken up by some nightmare. At least they were the normal kind, though! They were not the crystal clear scenes picked up from her memory, but jumbled and frightening images of being attacked, of being held down, of being threatened and forced against her will. Ed was there, and so was Bellatrix and Patrick and dementors and Voldemort and figures hidden in the dark. Lucius was there too - but only as a vague benign presence that she sometimes wished to protect and which sometimes attempted to protect her.

Just as she was going to bed, she felt another contraction coming on. For a while, especially right after Patrick tried to abduct her, she'd had them all the time, but it had gotten a bit better after the wedding when things calmed down. She had never gotten completely rid of them, however, and tonight they had been increasing in intensity. And this one felt different. Not painful, exactly, but uncomfortable.

It passed, and Hermione thought no more about it. She dressed in her nightgown and climbed into bed, where Lucius soon joined her.

"Are you tired?" he asked, brushing her hair from her cheek.

"Yes", she sighed.

Lucius froze. "You admit it?" he asked, sounding unreasonably surprised. He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, but only added: "Then sleep well. And wake me up if you need anything."

"I do that almost any night, whether I want to or not", Hermione reminded him. Just then, another contraction hit her. This one was definitely uncomfortable.

She felt Lucius cool hand on her belly. "You seem uncomfortable?"

"I'm always uncomfortable nowadays", she evaded, but his hand move up to hold her chin.

"Hermione", he said sternly.

"All right", she admitted, feeling a little stupid. "I'm having some contractions, but its nothing to worry about."

Lucius raised himself up to rest on his elbow, narrowing his eyes at her. "Nothing to worry about? You're not going into labour are you?"

"How would I know? I'm sure its nothing, but if it is starting, we'd better sleep while we can."

"You think its starting?" Lucius whispered.

Hermione looked into his eyes, and saw something akin to fear. She reached over to stroke his arm. "I don't know. I just want to sleep."

Reluctantly, Lucius nodded. He kissed her good night and turned to lie on his back, closing his eyes. Hermione smiled, and quickly drifted off to sleep.

10 pm.

After listening intently to Hermione's breaths for over an hour, Lucius was certain it had begun. She'd breathe slowly and evenly, only to suddenly change the pattern, sounding as if something was troubling her. He had said nothing at first, but once this had repeated itself five or six times, he could no longer ignore the worry what swept through him. When it happened again, he roused himself beside her. He knew she was awake, but she kept her eyes closed.

"Are you sure we shouldn't" - he started, but she cut him off in a calm voice:

"You can call healer Abbott to alert him if you like, but I've read about this and it's going to take time. The best thing to do is to stay at home as long as I'm comfortable."

"You don't look like you're comfortable", Lucius pointed out.

"You know what I mean"

"But -"

"I just want to sleep some more, Lucius", Hermione said tiredly. "And I'm fine for now."

11 pm.

"Surely, its time?" Lucius asked when Hermione's breathing once again became laboured.

"No, I want to try to sleep", she mumbled. "Give me those pills, please."

She gestured to her bedside table, where two different pills waited.

"What are those for?" he asked suspiciously.

"It's muggle medicine", she answered. "They reduce the pain."

"Have you -?"

"Consulted healer Abbott?" she broke in. "Yes."

Lucius gave her the pills along with a glass of water and anxiously watched her swallow them and lie back down. Another few contractions, several minutes apart, made her breathing laboured, but after a while the strange muggle pills seemed to kick in, and she was able to rest.

He knew this was how it was supposed to be. The pain of childbirth. He'd heard Narcissa though the thick walls, and she was not one to raise her voice unless in utmost distress. That time, however, he had been spared the anxiety of experiencing it first hand. He had worried about the well being of his unborn child, and of course about Narcissa. But even though he had cared for Narcissa, he was now ten times more worried for Hermione.

Not only because he loved her, but because she had been through so much. And though she had refused to admit it, Lucius knew she was tired and worn out. There had been so much anxiety in her life this past year, and he couldn't shake the feeling that she had bottled it all up. She couldn't stop the nightmares - but Lucius had the nagging suspicion that there was a ton of emotions she was not letting out. After Patrick attacked her, she'd wept a bit the first day, but then it was as if it had scarcely happened. And though she often spoke about how to catch their attacker, she said little about the experience of being attacked. Lucius had tried to coax her into confiding in him, but she'd just tell him she wanted to focus on the delivery of the baby. That she'd be all right.

So she decorated the nursery and made pastries, insisted on meeting up with Harry, Ginny, Draco and Astoria, read her books and insisted it was all good for her. Perhaps it was. But he observed her pallor and the dark rings under her eyes, her lack of breath and her restlessness.

And that was the true reason he asked Longbottom to cultivate those roses and ordered Tilly to set the table with her favourite dishes. That was why he tended to her minutest need and desire and even did things that were downright silly. He did those things to give her enjoyment, since it was out of his power to force her to rest.

But now that their baby was finally about to be delivered, he knew those things would not be enough. She would have to use every last grain of her physical and mental strength to get through this, and he would have to sit by helplessly. And that knowledge brought back all of his former anxieties: He did not deserve to be happy. He did not deserve to be loved. So what if this was all going to be the end after all?

2 am.

Hermione breathed slowly and deeply. Her muggle drug had worn off, and Lucius hadn't slept a wink. He sat behind her, pressing his hands against her back, waiting for this little piece of her ordeal to be over before he asked: "Is it time now, then?"

"Soon", came Hermione's response. "I'll just rest a little bit more."

Lucius sighed and helped her lie back down to rest, inwardly trembling with fear.

4 am.

Hermione was inside the bathroom, and even though she'd told him to stay in bed, he'd gotten up to pace the room. He heard the toilet flush and paused beside the bathroom door. He expected her to reenter the room, and wanted to be of service, but everything remained strangely quiet. Lucius's heart beat heavily as he stood still and listened.

"Um, Lucius?" Hermione suddenly called from behind the door.

"What is it?" he asked. "Are you hurt? Did anything happen?"

"Please come in here", she said.

Her voice sounded small, somehow, and Lucius immediately unlocked the door with his wand and pulled open the door. He found Hermione seated on the closed toilet, trembling slightly. He froze as he took in the picture: her feet were in a pool of pinkish water, which appeared to be leaking from between her legs.

"I think my water broke", she said with a slight smile, "perhaps it's time to call healer Abbott:"

Lucius had never thought of himself as an irresolute kind of wizard. He was usually prepared to act in almost any situation, and prided himself on his ability to keep his calm in most situations. At this moment, however, he was reminded of the fact that even his composure had its limits. What should he do first? Get Hermione clean? Was there even a point with that, given what was to follow? Or should he just get her into dry clothes? Or should he leave her where she was and go to call healer Abbott, since she was still... leaking?

In the end, Hermione decided for him. She had him bring some unmentionables from the bathroom cabinet, clean her off with a towel and put on some soft clothes of her choice before he went to call healer Abbott. Around half an hour later, healer Abbott and two mediwitches had arrived and turned their bedroom into a full-fledged delivery room. Lucius hovered by the door while Abbott and the others checked up on Hermione and the fetus.

Hermione had was reclining on the bed, breathing through her contractions with admirable calm, considering how painful they appeared to be. When they were finished, she glanced at Lucius. He took a step back instinctively, seized by a strange feeling that he was intruding upon something he had no right to take part of.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him threateningly. "Aren't you coming in?"

Lucius hesitated, glancing at Abbott, who just looked amused.

"Lucius", Hermione said in a warning tone. "Don't even think of giving me some 19th century crap about fathers not being allowed in the delivery room. I'm not doing this alone!"

Lucius didn't know whether to be relieved that he wouldn't be forced to leave her, or to despair at the torment the coming few hours would probably mean, so he did what he usually did: tease her. "You could always ask Ginevra", he shrugged. "I'm sure she'd be willing to help you."

Hermione's eyes widened. "What good would she do? She's never experienced a delivery."

"Neither have I", Lucius said innocently, crossing his arms as he leaned against the door frame.

"There's a difference!" Hermione hissed.

Perhaps he shouldn't tease a witch in labour, but he couldn't help himself: "What difference?"

"I want you to suffer", Hermione hissed.

Lucius had thought it would be impossible to laugh in a situation like this, but he did. A moment later, however, he could tell that another contraction was coming since Hermione closed her eyes and began breathing slowly and deeply. Within seconds, Lucius found himself by her side, grasping her hand. Exactly where he was suppose to be.

6 am.

Another contraction - longer and more painful, by the looks of it, slowly receded. Lucius let go of Hermione's hand and gently stroked her shoulders and arms, helping her relax her tensed up muscle. "You are so strong, my dear", he said quietly. "You are doing wonderfully. Try to relax, I shall be just a minute."

Hermione didn't answer, and quickly dozed off. He would not have thought it possible for anyone to sleep under these circumstances, knowing that another wave of pain would crash over her in just another minute or two. He supposed she must truly be exhausted. And no wonder - this had been going on for hours!

Lucius got up from his seat and left the room, nodding to healer Abbott to follow him. He only had a minute or two before the next contraction would come, and didn'twant to leave her unnecessarily, so the moment the healer had passed the threshold and the door was closed, Lucius turned toward him, pressing him against the wall.

"Surely, this is taking too long?" he barked. "Something is wrong! Stop pretending everything is fine - the baby should surely be born by now!"

The healer appeared taken aback at first, but quickly regained his composure. He raised his eyebrows at Lucius's hand that was gripping his white coat, but Lucius didn't let go.

"I am very close to losing my calm, healer", Lucius hissed. "Speak!"And he felt in awe of her for bearing it so well. She was truly remarkable. He himself had never felt less remarkable. He had never been in a delivery room before, and this was certainly not how he had imagined it. She seemed scarcely aware of his presence. The only sign that she knew and appreciated that he was there was the fact that she kept her hand in his the entire time. Only for short moments had he dared to leave her and upon his return, she had instantly reached for his hand. He had thought she would need his comfort, but found that she was calmness itself, while he was in a state of constant panic: terrified, enraged and desperate.

He had had enough. It was torture, absolute torture. He'd rather take the cruciatus curse - he truly would.

"Mr Malfoy -" the healer began placatingly, but Lucius only tightened his hold on his coat. The healer sighed. "You must keep your feelings under control. Everything is moving along splendidly. In fact, I'd say your wife is moving along quite quickly for a first-time mother."

"Quickly?"Lucius hissed, but forced himself to let the healer go. "This has been going on for hours!" he mumbled, backing up against the opposite wall and rubbing his face in distress.

"She is doing very well - and so are you, Mr Malfoy. You are helping her tremendously", the healer said as he put his hand on the door handle. "Hold on just a little bit longer. Your child will soon be born.

"And what do you mean by soon?" Lucius asked, feeling that five minutes might just be all he could take.

Healer Abbot smiled. "One never knows, but I should say within a few hours."

Lucius groaned, but endured the healer's pat on his shoulder and followed him back into the room. Hermione was still resting, but the beginning of a frown indicated to him that she was soon to have another contraction. Lucius nudged her, having learned that she wished to be awake to prepare for them, and took hold of her hand.

Hermione opened her eyes and looked tiredly at him.

"I don't think I can do this, Lucius", she whispered, and took a deep breath. "I'm so tired."

Lucius squeezed her hand, pained by the expression in her eyes. "It will be done soon, Hermione, then you can rest."

Soon.