March 5th

"S-so now w-we wait?" Astoria asked, shivering violently in spite of the warm cloak Draco had wrapped around her.

Draco nodded. Picking up a pebble from the ground, he transformed it into a chair for her to sit on. Astoria immediately sank down on it with a look of gratitude. She certainly looked miserable. He'd told her she should stay in bed, of course. She was in no condition to play the heroine on a chilly spring night like this. Not when they didn't have a clue what Eloise - if it was her - was up to. But Astoria had, of course, refused. If it really was her mother who was behind this, she not only wanted but felt she had to help stop her. And considering that Draco had felt the same way about his own father's suspicious activities not long ago, he had glared at her but refrained from trying to dissuade her.

At the moment, they were standing in the darkness and cold outside the Tower, waiting for Harry and the Aurors. At first, Draco had tried the Floo, but it was disconnected. Then, they'd tried to apparate straight into his father's home, but that hadn't been the best idea; they'd nearly got themselves splinched when the wards resolutely shut them out. So now, they were standing by the wall were the secret door was supposed to reveal itself to those who knew of its existence. Draco was sure this was the right place - but there was no door.

He raked his hands through his hair and leaned back against the rough stone wall. Allowing himself to wallow in his increasing desperation, he slid down the wall until he sat on the cold ground next to Astoria. He hated not knowing what was going on! He hated not knowing how to help. He hated having to wait like this, even if Potter would probably show up within minutes. He hated Eloise, and he would have liked to hate Astoria too. He wished he could.

"If your mother really is in there, what will you do?" he asked without looking up.

A muggle guard on patrol walked right past them, not even sparing them a glance. Astoria held her cloak tightly around her, her eyes glossy and cheeks redder than the chill warranted.

"I-if she was t-trying to hurt them", she answered quietly trough her shivers, "I'd do w-whatever I c-could to s-stop her."

Why did she have to be so good? So soft? Yes, he knew that those those were among the qualities that had drawn him to her, but it would be so much easier to hurt her if she was hard and venomous like a basilisk.

"What if you had to kill her in order to save the others?" Draco asked.

He already knew the answer, but she still took her time to think about it. "I d-don't know", she whispered at last. "I'm - I'm not sure I c-could."

The way she said it made Draco wince. She sounded almost embarrassed - as if not being cold-hearted enough to kill her own mother was something to be ashamed of. Was that the effect of growing up with people like Eloise and Daphne, or did she think it was what he expected of her?

Draco got up on his knees, and took Astoria's face between his hands. She was burning up. "What if I killed her?" he pressed. Astoria hadn't been through war. She had never had to think about killing people, or forming alliances or taking sides. He didn't want her to. But what if she had to? "If I kill your mother", he asked again, "what will you think of me?"

"Co-could you r-really do that?" she questioned with wide eyes.

"I don't know", Draco admitted. "Last time I thought I was ready to kill someone, I couldn't. But -" Draco took a deep breath, refusing to look away from her earnest gaze. "But I think I could kill Eloise if I had to."

Astoria looked into his eyes as if she was seeing him for the first time.

"Will you hate me?" he asked, pressing his jaws together in anticipation of her answer. But before she could say anything, a loud pop sounded in the courtyard.

Harry had come.

"Immobulus", Eloise calmly entoned, and a flash of blue light immediately hit Lucius, freezing his movements completely when his wand was only inches away from the blood that trickled down his leg. Almost in the same breath, but with a distinct tone of annoyance, Eloise aimed another hex at something to his left. Whether or not she hit her target was uncertain, but a fierce hiss was heard from the deep shadowed recesses of the library. Lucius's helper had disappeared among the shelves and would not be easy to find out.

Eloise straightened her back and gave him a piercing glare. Lucius met it with cold determination, although he was internally cursing his bad luck. Half a minute - no fifteen seconds more, and he would have been free! Her back had been turned to him, and she seemed to almost have forgotten he was there - but some uncanny sixth sense had allowed her to find him out at the very last moment.

Lucius had known all along that he needed blood - his own blood - in order to negate the charm that Eloise had put on his wand. He had made enough investigations with Ms Gallow to explain the meaning of Sybil's words, that only blood would cancel a curse based on blood. All he'd had to do was to dip his wand in his blood, say the counter spell - and he would have been free to fight her.

He had also known that there were two possible ways to do so, and debated for some time which method to try first. The very best would be to get a hold of something sharp enough to pierce his skin. His own undiluted blood, taken straight from the wound, would no doubt be the most potent. He did have another method, but it was less certain to succeed.

Anxiously watching the sand in Hermione's hourglass run lower and lower, and painfully reminded by the wet stains on her chest of the many feedings she had not been able to give Mira, he had scrambled for ideas of how to get a hold of something sharp enough to pierce his skin. He'd grown increasingly impatient with his lack of imagination until finally, he had remembered that there was indeed something Eloise had overlooked in her meticulous planning. Another being, other than humans and the house elf, stalked the Tower.

Careful not to raise Eloise's suspicions, he had concentrated very hard on calling out to Crookshanks in his mind. It was something akin to legilimency: he pushed images of what he wanted toward the cat, and hoped it would be clever enough to understand him. He wasn't sure if he had imagined it, but he had done something similar on the day they'd been attacked by Ed, and the cat had seemed to understand him. They had been good friends since.

And Hermione, tired and pale as she was, seemed to have understood he was planning something and had questioned Eloise about all kinds of things in order to keep her attention away from him. Lucius had spotted the cat in the corner of his eye and braced himself, encouraging Crookshanks to sink his long sharp claws deep into his leg - deep enough to make the blood quickly seep through the fabric of his trousers. Somehow, he had managed not to make a sound at the piercing pain, and had encouraged Crookshanks to hide even as he reached his wand out to touch the blood.

But he had been found out, and the opportunity was lost.

Without releasing him from the immobilizing spell, Eloise walked over to him and kneeled by his injured leg. Her dark hair shimmered with golden hues in the candle light, but her fingers that carefully examined the wounds were cold. Once she was satisfied no real damage was done, she muttered a healing spell that instantly took away the lingering pain. A half-efficient scourgify on his trousers completed her ministrations. Satisfied that there wouldn't be enough blood for Lucius to even try to make use of it, Eloise took a few steps back and lifted the immobilising spell.

"Was that really necessary, Lucius?" Eloise tutted. "You could catch a disease from all the filth that animal has put his paws in, you know."

Lucius clenched his jaw. He would not respond, he would not allow her to provoke him and waste time on arguing. He had to save Hermione and Mira, and soon. He had failed once, but he reminded himself that he had one more chance: he had something in his possession which he hoped would do just as well as his own blood. It was something he had asked healer Abbott to provide for him, not knowing exactly how it might be useful, but sensing it might.

He had not wanted to use it. He would rather shed his own blood than waste hers, but he had no choice now. He had to use Mira's blood.

Hermione struggled against the sleepiness that was creeping over her. It had snuck up on her so slowly that she hardly noticed at first, and to be honest, feeling tired and cold was nothing new considering her life and the season. But feeling this tired - so tired she was starting to be grateful she was tied up and not expected to move a limb - wasn't normal. And feeling this cold - so cold she almost thought the polished wood of the chair she was tied to was warm to the touch - wasn't normal. Two thirds of the sand had run out, perhaps more. If things went on like this, she had no more than a few hours left to live.

Some time had passed since Lucius had tried to use his own blood to break free. How had Eloise found him out? It was incomprehensible. Hermione had indeed seen Crookshanks approach Lucius, not quite understanding the plan but aware that something was going on. But she felt certain she had not been the one to give Lucius away. She had kept her gaze on Eloise and not even flinched when she saw Crookhansk sink his claws into Lucius's leg. There was indeed a mirror - a gilded floor length mirror that Hermione had always thought rather out of place in a library - on the wall close to Mira, but it hung at such an angle as to make it impossible for Eloise to see Lucius in it.

Eloise, with her gracefully flowing robes and darkly amused eyes had taken a seat a few yards away from them, watching them with a small smile. She was winning, and she knew it.

Hermione mentally shook herself. No. It was too soon to give up. She wasn't dead yet. Her breasts ached, so full of milk that they felt about to burst. Her heart was still beating. She wouldn't give up yet. And Lucius didn't look like he'd given up either. He was staring straight in front of him, as if waiting for something. Hermione's gazed lingered upon him for a moment. The man that had once been her enemy, and then had become her friend and lover - and now her husband. The man she had hoped to raise a child with, to tease and lecture and be teased by for the rest of her life. That wouldn't happen, she couldn't help thinking. Her life would soon end, and the last words she would her him speak wouldn't be I love you, but the Avada Kedavra. Because if he really had to choose who to save, he would have to choose Mira.

Again, Hermione shook herself. Her eyes met Lucius's. He raised his eyebrow just enough for only her to see it. Hermione didn't dare acknowledge it, but a few minutes later, she turned to Eloise:

"You never explained how you could control Lucius's wand. I know you're related, but how?"

Eloise's smile widened as if she was enjoying some secret joke. She leaned back in her chair for a moment, looking up at the ceiling as if thinking to herself. Then she looked down at her hand, examining her nails. When she finally spoke, her tone was nonchalant. "Guess. You're supposed to be so very clever, that I was sure you'd have figured it out by now."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Of course she'd figured it out, she was just trying to get Eloise not to pay attention to whatever Lucius was going to do. She had thought of the connection a lot, and partly by instinct, partly by reason, she'd arrived at a fairly obvious conclusion: it all had to do with Septimus. The wall, the curse and the book. It all had to do with Septimus Malfoy choosing purity of blood over honour and love, and the punishment Sybil had meted out for him. Quite the reverse, if she thought about it, to what was happening here: Lucius being punished for chosing honour and love over blood prejudice.

"You're Cadmus Malfoy's, the younger son of Septimus Malfoy, descendant."

Eloise looked over at her appraisingly. "Not bad. Then I'm sure you are already able to answer how I knew you were with child, even before Astoria deigned to tell me?"

Hermione frowned. The wall, the curse and the book. The book had known about Mira even before Lucius and Hermione themselves. If Eloise had the long lost second copy of the book, she would have known the moment she decided to look Lucius up. Which she had probably done the very night of the ball, when she'd realised to whom Lucius was engaged and had almost killed him.

"From generation to generation, the History of the Malfoys has been passed down to the oldest daughter for safekeeping. It was my inheritance", Eloise said, her eyes burning with something between pride and defiance.

"When did you find out about it? About the connection?" Hermione asked.

"The summer before our last year."

"That's why you were so obsessed with Lucius?" Hermione well recalled the way Eloise had constantly showed up wherever Lucius went in his memories.

"Obsessed?" Eloise asked innocently. "With Lucius? How absurd. I admit Lucius has always appeared to me to be the very ideal of a man, but as I said - this isn't about Lucius. It's about the Malfoys."

Eloise stood up, and once more approached them. She walked over to Lucius first and pulled her fingers through his hair. He seemed to shudder under her touch, but responded in no other way than to clench his wand in his hand and keeping his eyes fixed on Hermione.

"From my childhood", Eloise said thoughtfully, "I was taught that the only way to cancel the curses laid on our two branches of the family was the top priority for a true Malfoy descendant. Only by the marriage between a son of Caleb and a daugher of Cadmus would the curse be lifted. When I turned 17, I was told that I had the opportunity to be the one to unite the families and restore the glory and prosperity of all. So yes, I admit that I had hopes of accomplishing what none of my ancestors had succeeded in. I gave that dream up long ago." She paused, touching Lucius's cheek tenderly. "But it seems that my daughter will do what I could not."

"The curse has already been broken", Hermione argued. "And neither Draco nor Astoria care about blood purity."

Eloise let Lucius go and turned her back towards him. The slow click of her heals echoed through the silent room as she once again approached Hermione. From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Lucius's hand slowly begin to pull up his robes on the right side.

"I know they don't", Eloise answered, her lips twisting in contempt. "I would have preferred Draco to have chosen Daphne. She might have directed his thoughts in a more proper direction with time, but Astoria has always been weak and soft-hearted. The only time I have seen her act with spirit was when I forced her to."

"You used her!" Hermione cut in, both to keep Eloise focused on her, and because it provoked her to hear her speak so coldly about her own daughter. "You imperiused her, didn't you? You knew she would never approve of what you were doing so you forced her to participate in the attack that day."

Lucius had now successfully hiked up his robes to his waist and was trying to soundlessly reach something in his trouser pocket.

"She got injured that day!" Hermione objected heatedly. "She could have been killed!"

"That was unlucky", Eloise conceded, "but I couldn't resist the temptation. Astoria was the perfect accomplice - close enough for me to keep an eye on, and too innocent to suspect her own mother even for a moment. Do you remember that day at Greengrass House?" Eloise chuckled, twirling her wand betwen her well manicured fingers. "She was standing right next to me when I forced Lucius to attack you. A simple confundus was all it took, and voila - she gave me an alibi without thinking twice about it."

Lucius had closed his fingers around the object in his pocket and soundlessly pulled it out. A glass vial. He lifted it to his mouth, no doubt to pull the cork out with his teeth. Hermione's heart was pounding excitedly within her. Just a few more seconds and Lucius would have uncorked the vial -

But without warning, Eloise turned on her heal. With another calm "Immobulus", she once again halted Lucius's movements with another flash of blue light.

"Oh Lucius, what are you doing?" Eloise reprimanded with a smirk. "I was having such an interesting conversation with the mudblood, only to find you distracting her with your little tricks."

Eloise was delighted. Twice Lucius had tried to go behind her back, and twice he had failed! And now, he was frozen in a most comical pose: with a glass vial just touching his lips. She paused for a moment to enjoy the scene. Humiliated. Right now, Lucius was nothing more than a worm squirming in the dirt. She held his fate in his hands, and she had no intention of being merciful.

Now that she thought on it, perhaps she did hold a little grudge for the past after all. What woman could forget such treatment, after all? Lucius had never even considered taking her for his wife, even though her heritage made her the most eligible match for him. He had used her and then called her a common whore. It would have served him well if he had indeed accepted Daphne for his own daughter, only to discover later on that he had been duped, that his so-called friend Dolohov was the real father.

But now, Eloise was the one in charge, and she slowly circled around his frozen form. She had wanted him for so long. For his blood, for his wealth, for his power, for his beauty, for his pride... But what now? He had abandoned his pride and his principles, he'd stubbornly refuse to see reason, he'd chosen a mudblood for a Malfoy wife.

"You weren't always like this, Lucius", she said sadly, once again touching his silky blonde hair. She had dreamed about being close to him again, just as she had those short stolen moments before he crushed her under his heel and walked away. The man she could never have. The man she should have had.

Eloise's plan, once either Hermione or the child (or both) were dead, had been to send him to Azkaban for murder. Making him marry her had truly never been part of the plan, but she had wondered what he would do if she reached out to him there? Would he, riddled with grief, guilt and despair as he certainly would be, truly keep his back turned to his true ideals? Would he accept her compassion, the only human comfort he would be offered in that place? And if he did, would she take him? He would never be what he had once been - he had sealed his own fate long ago - but perhaps she might take him on, as a pet of sorts?

With a sigh, she forced herself to come to her senses. She pried the vial from Lucius's stiffened fingers, lifted against one of the candles and examined it.

"Blood?" she asked. In an instant, she guessed whose it was. He needed his own blood to end her charm on his wand, so this was either his own or the child's. But since he'd allowed that beast of a cat to mutilate him rather than use this, she guessed it was not his.

Eloise waved her wand at Lucius. "Finite incantatem." His body immediately slumped forward, his eyes closed, his lips tightly pressed together. Triumph slithered through her soul: this had been his final hope. He may try to look cold and distant, but she could see it clearly: Lucius had no more tricks up his sleeve. He had finally accepted that he couldn't get out - that he must bear the punishment and make the choice.

She had won! Eloise carelessly tossed the vial into the air and then caught it again. Lucius, whose eyes were once again directed at her, flinched. His eyes, as if unable to look away, followed the vial's journey through the air as Eloise repeated the process.

She glanced at the mudblood. She looked rather confused for once. Only about one tenth of the blood in the hourglass remained.

"How did you do that?" she demanded. "How did you know what Lucius was doing?"

Eloise raised an eyebrow. Should she truly give her secret away? Then again, the girl would soon be dead, so Eloise might as well help her put the pieces together as a last favour.

"It seems you easily forget your weaknesses, Lady Malfoy", she taunted, catching and tossing the vial up again. "Think carefully: what talent might I have that would allow me to enter your mind at night, even from a distance, and go through all your most painful memories and force you to relive them? What talent might allow me to pick from your mind the fact that you live here at the Tower. What would allow me to read your mind as you watched Lucius call for that stupid cat or pry something out of his pocket..."

It was scarcely possible for the mudblood to get any more pale, given how close to death she already was, but her eyes stared wide-eyed at her.

"I am a rather skilled legilimens", Eloise said, tilting her head and pausing with the vial in her hands. "I established a connection with you when you visited at Greengrass House. It didn't allow me to find out everything, of course, but when your mind is weakened - by sleep or by subdued magic, it is quite easy for me to sift through your thoughts and memories as I see fit. Too bad you were too stupid to pick up on the warnings I sent you in your dreams, or you wouldn't be in this situation right now."

Eloise sighed and glanced over at Lucius. "You should have let her go, Lucius. Imagine if I had succeeded with just getting rid of the child. You wouldn't know what you lost. But now -" She followed his gaze over to the sleeping infant "Your suffering will be so much greater. Come, you are running out of time. Make your decision."

"No!" Lucius said, speaking for the fist time in hours.

Eloise smiled. "Yes", she said - and threw the vial of blood straight into the stone wall.

Lucius stared at the wall opposite him, behind Hermione and Mira. The glass vial had shattered upon impact, leaving a large splotch of blood to slowly trickle down the wall, unstoppable as the sand in the hourglass. Soon, it would pool on the floor and mix with the shards of glass that littered it.

He stared. He could no nothing else. He had no words to describe his horror. No way of expressing the dread that filled him. He hadn't allowed himself to truly consider what would happen if he failed to set his wand free. He couldn't choose. But Mira's blood had been his last hope.

"I knew you'd fight, Lucius. Well done", Eloise said lightly and then repeated: "But your time is running out."

Lucius looked at Hermione. Not much sand remained. It was a matter of minutes now. He looked at Mira, who was till sleeping peacefully. In his eyes, they both looked more pale, more frail, more unreal. They were slipping from his grasp, the both of them, and had to choose - not whom to save, but whom to kill. He couldn't!

"You will be hated whichever choice you make", coaxed Eloise. "The world will hate you if you kill a child, and it will hate you for killing their Golden Girl. It doesn't matter what you do - they will still abandon you, won't they? Those good hearted people will never understand and never look at you again, Lucius. You'll never be one of them."

Lucius would have liked to say that he didn't care what the world thought of him. And he didn't. He thought nothing of 'everybody', that abstract mass of people he had never bothered with. But he did think of Potter and, surprisingly, the Weasleys. He thought of Molly Weasley's heartfelt congratulations at their wedding, of Arthur Weasley's determination to protect him simply because he was loved by Hermione. And for some reason, Lucius was sad to disappoint them. He had stubbornly refused to admit it, but somewhere in the obscure corners of his soul, he had liked to see them looking at him differently. He had liked being included. They had made him think he might escape his past after all. It was pitiful, but he could not make himself repent it.

"If you want my advice, Lucius", Eloise said, "I suggest you get rid of the child. She will never know what hit her, suffer no pain. This world is too dark a place for her anyway, isn't it? And you will still have your wife to comfort you."

Lucius shook his head. Hermione would never forgive me. If he killed Mira, he would not only tear his own soul into shreds, but Hermione's as well. Her pain would be unbearable, and she would be lost to him for good. If he killed Mira, he would lose them both. But still, Hermione would at least be alive. She would exist in this world, having a chance at happiness, even if she would hate him. But Mira wouldn't.

"Then again", Eloise continued in her worm tongue, "if you kill your wife, at least you will have your daughter. She might forgive you easier, and you'll get to see her grow up -" Eloise paused and chuckled. "What am I saying? You will be in Azkaban, you might never see her again anyway."

Lost. They would both be lost to him forever. Whichever of them he chose, his life would be at an end. He couldn't choose. He had to, but he couldn't.

"If I kill one of them, why would you let the other live?" Lucius asked in a broken voice. "If Mira lives, the Malfoy family remain tainted. If Hermione lives, there might be another child."

"That is beside the point", Eloise said with a dismissing wave of her hand. "As long as Draco inherits the title, he will continue the Malfoy line. His children by Astoria will be worthy heirs. Our little meeting tonight has all been about you coming to your senses and paying a price for what you've done."

Lucius didn't respond. Hermione or Mira? Such a pointless choice. Would he kill his heart, or his blood?

He couldn't. But he had to.

Everything had been quiet for several minutes. Eloise had returned to her seat and left Lucius to ponder his options alone. Hermione had been fighting to stay conscious, almost feeling her heart beat slower and her breaths become more laboured. She dared not look at the hourglass. Suddenly, however, she was jolted awake by an almost inhumane roar. Even Mira moved slightly in her deep slumber.

It was Lucius, but it didn't sound like him. She had heard him whisper, murmur, hiss, growl, shout... But whether he was angry, frightened or loving, his voice was always his own. But the sound that had broken from his lips was something between a roar and a wail, a scream, a sound to chill the blood. A sound that resonated deep inside her, because she felt it too: the agony, the hopelessness, the loss. It was agony and terror and wrath and heartbreak.

She met Lucius's grey eyes. They were frantic. They were out of hope. He had to make a choice he couldn't possibly live with.

"Lucius -" she began, but the words caught in her throat. She would forgive him for killing her, if he only let Mira live.

Lucius flinched, and quickly looked away from her. "I can't", he whispered, his voice raw and hoarse, his cheeks stained with tears. "I can't!"

"Please -" she started, but paused when Lucius suddenly froze.

His gaze seemed to be fixed on Mira. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed. No. She knew that look on his face. It was the look of someone who had made a decision. Someone who would follow through, no matter how hard it was. No, not Mira!

Lucius looked up, and the look in his eyes was different. The agony was gone. There was only determination and regret. Across the room, Eloise sat up eagerly.

"I'm sorry, Hermione", he said and then he raised his wand. "Avada Kedavra!"