February 27th

08.15 am.

Hermione whimpered and took long, strained breaths to endure the intense pressure and pain in her nether regions. The baby's head was stretching her to the utmost, but a voice - healer Abbott's - spoke calmly next to her:

"This is it, Mrs Malfoy. When the next contraction comes, I want you to take a deep breath and hold it, and use it to push as much as you can. One last push and then you'll get to see your baby."

"How would you know?" Hermione gasped out.

"Experience and -" healer Abbot paused. In spite of the pain, Hermione looked up to catch him glancing at the clock on the wall with a fleeting look of amusement. He nodded sagely and turned back to her. "Let us call it foresight for now. Just hold on another minute."

Hermione turned to her other side, pleased to find Lucius there. She shouldn't be surprised considering that he had been holding her hand for hours, and still was, but her sense of logic wasn't quite up to its normal standards. Lucius leaned closer to her, just as she felt the pain rise within her again. He looked like he was about to say something, but there was no time.

Because she didn't have much of a choice, Hermione did as she had been instructed. She took a breath, held it, and pushed. And pushed and pushed. At first, nothing happened, but then there was a sudden slithering feeling and that awful burning pain subsided. Panting heavily, Hermione leaned back against the headboard as healer Abbott and his assistants praised her.

With distant satisfaction, she saw the small body of an infant flailing about in the healer's arms, and moments later, she heard cries. She let out deep sigh of relief. She was too tired, to really bother about what was going on. A glass was put to her lips, and she drank. Judging by its effect, it must have been some kind of pepper-up potion. She still craved sleep, but he was one or two degrees less exhausted than she had been just a moment ago. Looking around her, she wondered where the baby had got to, but was informed that healer Abbott was performing a quick checkup while she pushed out the placenta and got cleaned up.

"Isn't this over yet?" Lucius asked sharply. "She's had enough of pain already."

"It's not up to us to argue with nature, Mr Malfoy", came the matter-of fact reply from one of the mediwitches.

Ten minutes later, Hermione was finally allowed to rest. She must have dozed off then, because when she opened her eyes neither the healer nor his assistants were anywhere to be seen. The blood and gore had been cleaned away, and the sun shone in through the windows. Lucius was no longer by her side, but stood at the foot of the bed, holding a bundle of white blankets. He looked down upon the thing inside them incredulous smile, and Hermione watched silently as he adjusted his grip so that the tiny being rested more comfortably on his arm. For a moment, his face was simply curious as his gaze eagerly examined it from head to toe. And then, he laughed.

Instantly, the being in his arms began to wail.

"Lucius, are you laughing at our child?"

Lucius looked up, surprised to find her awake. He smiled at her, but the infant's complaints soon stole his attention back. Chuckling, he wrapped it up again against the cold, rocked it softly and spoke in a soothing voice:

"I'm sorry, my darling girl. I wasn't laughing at you. You surprised me, that is all."

Hermione noticed with amusement that the baby instantly grew quiet, calmed either by the sound of Lucius's voice or by his apology. Then, it hit her: Girl! Was their child really a girl, just like Lucius had insisted? She had a daughter? Trembling, Hermione held out her arms and Lucius quickly moved around the bed, bringing their daughter to her. With a parting kiss on the baby's forehead, Lucius put it onto Hermione's chest and covered them with the blanket.

"Our daughter perfectly portrays my most treasured conjectures as to her appearance", Lucius declared proudly, and Hermione soon understood what had made him laugh: their baby already had a thick mane of curly hair, similar to her own - only, it was so blonde it was nearly white.

Hermione chortled, but soon lost herself in the gaze of a pair of large, dark and very qustioning eyes. Gently, clumsily, she touched her round cheek, her tiny fingers, her soft hair. It seemed unreal, that she should have a daughter.

"I have no idea what to do now", she admitted silently, blinking to prevent the sudden tears from spilling out.

"You've done enough for now", Lucius said in the same soothing voice he'd used to calm down the infant.

"Won't she need food?" Hermione asked, even though she'd read all about it.

"It seems to me as if she's within a rather comfortable distance from her source of sustenance", Lucius said, eyeing her half-bared breasts with a raised eyebrow. "Surely, our girl is not one to back down from a challenge."

"You're going to dictate her personality to her now?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm her father, I know best", he smirked.

February 28th

Lucius had always cherished beauty. Perhaps that was not evident when one considered some of his former associates, or indeed the wizard he had once followed - but he had always sought out beauty above all else.

That was part of why he'd once loved Malfoy Manor and still, in spite of all the painful memories now associate with that place, he could not bring himself to hate it. It was why he'd filled the gardens with winding paths and rare peacocks. It was why he'd always admired Narcissa even when he'd lost any hope of a loving marriage. And it was why he simply could not tare his gaze from the scene before him.

His wife and his daughter. His eyes drank in their appearance, followed the line of their baby's rounded cheek, the way her fingers flexed, every white lock of her hair. The curve of Hermione's lips as the clumsily helped her daughter find her breast, the way she wrinkled her nose at the presumably strange sensation when she finally got a good grip and started suckling, the way she shut her eyes for a moment, seeking even the slightest repose.

He could have watched them for a lifetime, seated as he was in the armchair opposite them. Their daughter had been with them for little more than 24 hours, and he had already been reminded that parenting an infant was no easy task. And he knew from experience that things would get worse. But as long as he could keep them safe, he would endure anything. Not without complaint, perhaps. But he would bear it.

They hadn't admitted any visitors yet, except for healer Abbott, who had stopped by earlier in the day to check on Hermione and the baby. He had looked more smug than usual. At first, Lucius had put it down to the healer's having successfully finished his task of tending to Hermione, but he soon started to suspect there was something more.

Abbott had performed a physical examination, and then seated himself in their sofa and pulled out a piece of parchment from within his robes. Upon closer examination, Lucius had found that it was a birth certificate - though it was not yet complete. The healer had already filled out his and Hermione's names, their daughter's place of birth and gender, as well as the date and time of her birth - February 27 at 8.17 am - but the space meant for their daughters name was still empty.

"I take it you wish for a name?" Lucius asked, adjusting his hold on the sleeping baby in his arms, as Hermione handed the paper back to Abbott.

The healer kept his smug expression on, and answered with something akin to a shrug: "If you have already selected one, that would be excellent, Mr Malfoy."

She did have a name. And what's more, as soon as the names had been decided upon, they had been acknowledged by Sybil in The History of the Malfoys. Lucius himself had thought of many possible names, but only one had sounded right to him. Mira. Latin for wonderful or astonishing, and a star in the Cetus constellation. And Hermione had surprised him by suggesting Irena, a star found in the Hercules constellation - invisible to the naked eye but there nonetheless. Irena, too, was latin, and its meaning was peace.

"Mira Irena Malfoy", the healer repeated thoughtfully as he wrote it down neatly on the birth certificate. He vanished his quill and ink and leaned back on the sofa, lacing his fingers together. "What I wouldn't do to follow her future adventures."

Lucius glanced at Hermione, who looked back at him. None of them said nothing, but simply waited for the healer to speak. He sat watching them for a while, before he chuckled. "All right, you win."

"Win?" Lucius asked, lacing his tone with that false innocence that never failed to sound threatening. "Whatever do you mean? You have not been hiding something from us, have you, healer Abbott?"

The healer simply smiled benignly and turned the birth certificate back, so they could read it. He peered at them from behind the rim of his glasses. "You wouldn't happen to keep a moon calendar, would you?" he asked.

Lucius stared at the healer, then looked down at Mira, and then at Hermione. Hermione was staring intently at the birth certificate.

"Surely -" she started, looking up at the healer.

"The last full moon occurred yesterday morning", the healer calmly answered. "At 08.17."

Lucius was sure the healer enjoyed the following moments of silence immensely, but couldn't bring himself to speak. Hermione, too, seemed to be at a loss for words, but finally stuttered: "What does that even mean? I mean, all of it - the full moons and auspicious signs. What does it mean?"

"It means", the healer said as he rose to his feet, "that Mira Irena Malfoy will likely have powers beyond what most of us have ever seen. I suggest you take care to raise her well."

Healer Abbott soon took his leave, and Hermione retreated to take a nap. Before Abbott could go, however, Lucius quietly asked him for a word in private. He brought Mira with them into his study and cast a silencing spell to make sure they could not be overheard.

"I have a request to make of you, healer", he said solemnly, and proceeded to tell him what he needed.

Healer Abbott listened with something between surprise, suspicion and discomfort to Lucius's instructions. "If I am to do as you ask, Mr Malfoy, I must have your wife's permission."

Lucius had suspected as much, but shook his head. "No", he said, grasping Mira closer to him. "Hermione cannot find out."

March 5th

Hermione had finally managed to put Mira to sleep in her crib a few feet away, and stumbled to her own bed. The moment her head landed on her pillow, she burst into tears. Again. She was just so tired. And happy. And sad, and confused, and afraid. She felt suffocated and exposed - and clingy and overprotective. And now, Lucius had left her for a few short hours to take care of some errands that could no longer be put off, and she had managed perfectly well. She had! Until now, when she once again simply broke down.

The first day or two after birth had been wonderful. Overwhelming, of course, but in a good way. But on the third morrow, she felt as if she opened her eyes to find herself standing on a tiny island, barely enough for her two feet, while everything around her was storming. Memories crashed against each other, fears and hopes were jumbled in a vast stormy sea, and she felt utterly drained just by the simple act of waking up.

She realised now why Lucius had nagged at her the past few weeks. She'd known it all along, but hadn't wanted to face it. She'd tried to run away from everything - only to find that everything was now surrounding her like large threatening shadows looming above her.

She'd tried to excuse Patrick, but his attempted crime now seemed more real than ever: he had wanted to take Mira away from her. She'd wanted to understand Narcissa, but now she couldn't help crying at the thought of her blaming Lucius for a crime he didn't commit. She felt angry and confused by everything that had been revealed about Eloise and Lucius's relationship with her. She felt pain at the thought of Astoria and her mistake in not coming clean with what she'd been exposed to. She saw Ed in her nightmares. She felt sheer terror at the idea of their attacker targeting them again.

It hadn't been all bad, though. Lucius had been very patient with her, and she knew Tilly was around to help with whatever she needed. And she had instantly felt attached to Mira as well. Perhaps she didn't always feel happy, but knew that she was. And at the moment, she actually preferred it that way, because even happiness was too much for her. Like all the other emotions within her it was simply too much. Like when she and Lucius had ventured out, heavily guarded by Aurors, to see her parents and her mother had held Mira in her arms and blurted out: "Do you remember, Andrew, when Hermione was newly born and she'd grab hold of your thumb so hard you couldn't move away from her?"

Hermione turned in bed, pulling a blanked over herself. Yes, she was happy. And frightened. And excited. And tired. So very tired. Her gaze fell on Mira. Astonishing peace. She needed it. Peace. She craved it, but all she could do was to lie here and wait for it to return. Perhaps Lucius would be home by the time she woke up. Slowly, Hermione drifted into sleep.

When she woke up, even before she was fully conscious, she knew she wasn't alone. And that would have comforted her, if it had been Lucius - but somehow, she knew it wasn't. Another fragrance tinted the air, another aura and atmosphere altogether. A threatening one, a malicious one.

Sitting up in bed, Hermione's eyes immediately fell on Mira's crib - only to find it empty. Panic threatened to engulf her as she cast off her blanket and stood up. What she saw next made her freeze.

No... She was too tired for this. Too weak. And even though her wand was in her hand and she felt the trickle of magic waiting to burst out, Hermione was entirely helpless. Her eyes were fixed on Mira, who was awake but held by someone who shouldn't be here.

Hermione had thought that she and her family were safe here, that noone could get to them in their ivory tower. But she had been wrong again. Naive - again. And here she was, face to face with the enemy, unable to take her child back. And all Hermione could think was:

I should have known it was her.