"Is this normal? This can't be normal—" Hermione pointed to her stomach, the skin stretched taut over a bulge the size of a watermelon. "It's barely two months; my stomach can't be this huge."

Zoey didn't say anything, she never engaged in idle chatter, but after spending time with the girl nearly every day, Hermione thought she could accurately read the young girl's expressions.

"I suppose if there was anything unusual or alarming you lot would have done something about it," Hermione thought out loud.

One moment she was fine, going about her daily one-sided conversation with Zoey, and the next she was crouched low, grabbing her side as an intense pain shot through her stomach.

"Hermione? What is it?" Zoey asked in concern. "What's happening?"

Hermione could only shake her head in response. She was unable to breathe, let alone speak, as the pain radiated from her stomach to the rest of her body. By the time the painful spasm passed, she lay on the ground, on her side, gasping for air.

Zoey scampered out of the room shouting, "Something's wrong." Hermione tried to get up but more pain ripped through her so she lay prone on the floor, holding her belly instead.

From her position on the stone floor, the rapidly approaching footsteps sounded like thunder. She opened her eyes, blinking away the tears gathered, to focus on the person kneeling on the floor beside her.

"What is it, Granger? Did you hurt yourself?" asked Malfoy.

She shook her head, struggling to even suck in air through the sharp pain she was experiencing.

"Can you show me where it hurts?"

She groaned, clutching her stomach tighter in an attempt to ease the painful pressure building up inside.

"Don't just stand there gawking, Zoey," barked Malfoy. "Go fetch Cora already."

Later, once the pain subsided, Hermione would be shocked at what followed. At the time, however, she was in too much agony to comment on Malfoy's unusual behaviour.

He slipped his hands under her shoulders, eased her head gently into his lap and began to stroke her back in a soothing manner.

"Try to relax," he told her. "You probably just pulled a muscle. The mediwitch will be here soon and we'll know what's happening. Till then, just focus on my breathing, okay?" He inhaled deeply through his nose and noisily exhaled through his mouth.

Hermione nodded and copied him. Screwing her eyes tightly shut, Hermione focused on taking deep breaths in sync with Malfoy. When the pain reduced to a dull throb Hermione opened her eyes only to find herself staring into Malfoy's.

Having never been this close to him before, it was the first time she paid attention to his eyes. Shades of grey like wisps of smoke swirling in the air, concealing more than they revealed. What kind of hidden depths would the owner of such eyes possess? She found herself growing curious about this man she never would have thought capable of comforting anyone, least of all her.

He continued to stroke her back with one hand, as he held her in place in his lap with the other, never breaking eye contact.

"I want you to know how sorry I am." The words were whispered so softly she almost didn't hear them.

She stared at him in confusion.

"I was given a potion, Granger. I had no control, I... I could not stop myself," he explained. "We may have been rivals at school and I know I objected to your presence at Hogwarts, but I have never wanted to hurt you like that. I would never willingly hurt any woman like that."

Hermione blinked a few times and once more squeezed her eyes shut, this time in a desperate attempt to tune his words out.

For a moment, she forgot. For a moment, she was safe in his arms. For the briefest of moments, she had felt cared for. Why did he have to ruin it by reminding her? Why did he have to talk about it at all?

She didn't like to think about it. She didn't want to think about her rape. Conflicting thoughts about that night made her feel like a mess. The Death Eaters took away her will by giving her a potion, so whatever transpired was rape. Yet, even knowing that her actions were the outcome of the potion, she was filled with a deep sense of shame when she recalled how willing she was that night and the amount of pleasure she had experienced as the wolf filled her with his seed...

...But the shame didn't come from the memory. The source of her shame was the way her breath hitched and her pulse raced with excitement anytime she recalled the memory. It was all too confusing and Hermione did not dare analyse any of it until she was back home, safe with Harry, Ron and the rest of her Order family. Once she was safe again, she would work on processing what Voldemort and his followers had done to her. Until then she needed to pretend the circumstances of her pregnancy were completely normal.

Hermione didn't want Malfoy's apologies, which did nothing except remind her of what had happened. She had spent the last week avoiding looking his way because she didn't want him to say or do anything to confirm her suspicion that he was the creature who bred her. Yet despite her efforts, here he was, confessing to it all the same.

His confession did not console her, far from it. It was upsetting to hear that he had been just as helpless. It was unfair that she didn't get to hate him for what he did to her, but how could she, if he himself was a victim? For the first time, seeing clearly the miserable situation she found herself in she began to weep silently, the tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes in spite of her attempt to hold them in.

"Please don't cry," he pleaded softly, brushing away her tears with the pads of his fingers.

Such gentleness from the man who had raped her broke something within her. A flood of, hitherto suppressed, feelings related to her forced pregnancy rushed through her, causing her to break into sobs and cry inconsolably.

Malfoy lifted her and settled her in his lap so she was resting against his chest with her head tucked under his chin. Probably sensing her need to express the grief she had kept bottled up so far, he did not speak another word, wrapping his arms around her in a hug, he silently rocked her back and forth, as one would an upset child.

By the time the mediwitch finally arrived Hermione was feeling a lot calmer. While she would need time to process what Malfoy had told her, based on his demeanour she did not doubt the sincerity of his words.

"Finally," Malfoy exclaimed to the woman who entered the room, unannounced, with Zoey following closely on her heels.

From her position, curled up as she was within the circle of Malfoy's arms, she could only imagine the sight they made. It was confirmed by the nearly comical way Zoey's eyes widened when she spotted them, yet no one commented on it. Malfoy himself acted like it was perfectly normal for him to be sitting on the floor hugging a prisoner.

"I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to come fetch you myself." He sounded exasperated, but made no attempt to move her out of his arms.

Going by the stuttered response that followed he must've been looking at Zoey when he spoke.

"I—I'm so sorry, I c-could not find her. She-she wasn't in her r-room."

"That's enough, Draco. Stop terrorising my omega and tell me what's wrong," said the older woman. Far more advanced in years, but with her looks and manner so like Molly Weasley, Hermione was instantly at ease in her presence.

Ignoring the other two, Malfoy leaned in to whisper in her ear, "The mediwitch is here, Granger. You okay to move to the bed so she can take a proper look at you?" At her nod, he finally let go of her.

Drained, both physically and emotionally, Hermione was unsteady on her feet and needed to lean against Draco for support as she walked to the bed and lay down for her examination.

"I found her curled on the floor, holding her belly, Cora," Malfoy informed the mediwitch. "She looked like she was in agony. The pain continued for a few more minutes after I got here before it finally stopped."

"Alright, let's take a look at your stomach, Hermione," the witch said, addressing her directly. She waited patiently as Hermione, with shaky hands, undid the fastening on the waistband of her skirt and moved, both, her blouse and skirt sufficiently out of the way to expose her stomach.

The mediwitch started by prodding and feeling Hermione's belly using her bare hands after which she drew out her wand and cast a variety of diagnostic spells. Hermione looked at the witch's wand with envy and longing. It was so long since she had held one herself and nearly as long since she'd even seen one. If the werewolves made use of their wands, it was definitely not within her sight.

"Everything is okay. Both, mother and the babies are okay," the mediwitch declared with a smile.

"Babies? As in more than one baby?" Hermione asked in bewilderment.

The mediwitch nodded.

"Really?" asked Malfoy. His slack-jawed expression looked like one of wonder and awe at the news, instead of the more fitting reaction of shock she herself was experiencing.

"You can listen to their heartbeats if you like and confirm it yourself."

Both, Draco and the mediwitch looked at her expectantly, but Hermione, who was struggling to digest the news that she was carrying more than one child, didn't care to ask what it was they wanted of her.

"How many babies exactly?" she asked, suddenly worried she was going to pop out a litter. "And, what was that gods-awful pain twisting my insides? I thought I was dying—" She gave the witch a pleading look. "I'd really like for someone to explain just what's going on in my body."

"I apologise for that. I suppose it is rather unprofessional of me, but in my defence everything about this situation is so unique I'm a little off-kilter," explained the mediwitch. "Well, let's start by getting the preliminaries out of the way."

Cora settled herself in the only chair in the room, Malfoy continued to stand at Hermione's bedside, and Zoey stood at the entrance of the room, looking like she could not decide if she ought to stay or leave.

"First of all, I'm Coraline Beckett, but the pack just calls me Cora. I used to be a healer before I was turned, but thanks to the superior immunity as well as healing abilities werewolves possess, I've been out of practice for decades now. These days, I'm no more than a mediwitch... As a healer, my specialisation was obstetrics, but with werewolf pregnancies being as rare and tragic as they are, I can't recall the last time I had a pregnant woman in my care, let alone a case like yours. I don't know if your knowledge of werewolves is considerable enough"—Hermione thought she heard Malfoy snort, but ignored him for the woman talking—"to appreciate how remarkable your pregnancy is."

The near giddy tone in the mediwitch's voice rankled Hermione.

"Considering all werewolves were formerly witches or wizards, one would think that these two beings would be able to mate and successfully produce offspring, but with a few rare exceptions, it has been observed that copulation between witches and weres, in wizard or wolf form, does not result in conception. Despite our similarities, there exist some physiological differences between our kinds preventing fertilisation. A shame really, as it would be easier for witches to carry their pregnancies to term since they do not turn during the full moon; unlike weres, whose bodies transform, and in the process rip apart the child in their womb, at the first sign of the full moon.

"Of course, this isn't to say it's any easier for weres to produce children when mating with their own kind. We believe Luna only blesses true mates with children, but since not every were is fortunate enough to have a predestined mate they manage to meet in their lifetime, we rarely have children, human or wolf."

Despite her reputation as an intellectually curious person, Hermione wasn't interested in listening to the insight she may have, under different circumstances, found fascinating. Impatient as she was for answers related to her own condition, Hermione was growing annoyed with Cora, something the mediwitch must have finally picked up.

"I'm not trying to avoid answering your question, Hermione. With your circumstances being as unusual as they are, I need you to understand that, while you can trust me to know my job, there may be things that surprise both of us along the way. Now, to answer your question—" She paused dramatically before she continued. "You're carrying two babies. Considering you're not a were you shouldn't even be pregnant, let alone carrying twins!"

"Guess you can thank Voldemort and his potion for that," Hermione ground out between clenched teeth. She may mean well, but Cora's exuberance in light of her circumstances was really grating at Hermione's nerves.

"Yes," replied Cora in a more sober tone, "I understand this isn't an ideal situation for you. However, for us, this is nothing short of a miracle. Not every wolf has a true mate, so there are many who can never have children. Lycanthropes cannot reproduce naturally; the only way we can increase the numbers of our kind is by infecting witches and wizards with lycanthropy through our bite. The process is violent and painful in more than just the physical sense—a newly turned werewolf is both feared and shunned by their human relatives. Imagine having an alternative, a way to avoid all that senseless pain and suffering..."

"If you were looking to avoid senseless pain and suffering you really chose the wrong master to serve."

Both Cora and Draco winced visibly at her choice of words. The truth was rarely palatable.

"We are wolves, we follow our Alpha alone." Cora's voice was frosty now, the friendliness from earlier all gone. "We serve no master."

"Well, Greyback is little more than Voldemort's pet, so whether you serve him or your Dark Lord, it's a distinction without a difference."

She knew she was being uncharacteristically brash in her speech—Harry would've approved—but, she was absolutely knackered, and all out of patience to put up with the thestral dung Cora was spouting as justification for the complicity of the werewolves in the crimes committed by Voldemort and his followers.

Cora leaned forward in her seat and baring her teeth at Hermione let out a low growl. The move prompted Malfoy to stalk up to Cora; he stopped in front of her, blocking Hermione from Cora's line of sight. His back was to Hermione, but his wide stance and the visible tension in his body made him look threatening, even if she wasn't the one being stared down by him.

"Oh, you can just stuff that display of dominance or direct it where it belongs. I'm not the one out of line, pup. You know I wouldn't hurt her." Cora's tone suggested she was deeply offended by Malfoy's move and all it implied. "She may not be one of us, but she carries your blood; as far as I'm concerned it makes her pack. And if that wasn't enough, she's also my patient now. I would never hurt a patient, no matter how rude."

Hermione made a sound, ready to protest, but Malfoy turned and gave her a look so quelling the words died in her mouth. "Granger," he said stepping aside so he no longer stood between the two witches but was close enough to a seated Cora he could loom menacingly over her. "Inquisitive witch that you are, no doubt you're bursting with all sorts of questions. Wouldn't you rather ask Cora for answers, than waste time antagonising her?"

While Hermione didn't like being scolded, she was unable to deny the soundness of his reasoning. She looked away from the others and thought about what she wanted to ask.

"So when will the babies be born?" she asked, starting with the simpler questions. "It's usually nine months for werewolves too, right?"

"About that, I meant to discuss this with you, but then we got a little distracted." Cora looked less confident when she spoke now. "I can't tell if this is just something random, or an intended side effect of the version of Fero you were given, but... the pregnancy appears to be in an accelerated state."

"What do you mean?" asked Malfoy

Cora ignored his interruption and continued to address Hermione. "The gestation period is nine months for our kind, same as all humans, but during your check-up, I observed the pups looked far more developed than they should at this stage in the pregnancy. It's really hard for me to commit to a date, since I don't possess all the facts, but one thing is certain, the pups will definitely be here in less than six months."

Merlin, thought Hermione, instantly recalling her conversation with Voldemort. The bastard had figured out a way to not only make his new army but he may have also worked out a way to reduce the time it took to create it.

"Are you sure," asked Malfoy, "I mean, isn't it possible that the pups are just large?"

There was that word again, Hermione noted mentally—pups.

"Why do you keep referring to the babies as pups? Does that mean I'm going to give birth to..." her question trailed off, unwilling to give voice to her fears.

"No, no, you're not having wolf cubs," Cora reassured her, "It's just a term we use for our young, be they children or newly turned weres with little self-control. Isn't that right, pup?" she asked Malfoy. Cora's eyes twinkled with mirth when Malfoy stood up straighter, making himself appear larger, and glared at Cora.

"Shows just how young you are if you think that kind of macho posturing will make me fall in line, pup."

"I'd be a fool to even consider such a thing, Cora," said Malfoy with a shake of his head, trying to keep a straight face but failing. "Now, can you stop taking the piss out of me in the presence of an omega"—he inclined his head towards Zoey, whom everyone had forgotten about until that moment—"and tell me why you believe the pups are developing quicker than normal?"

"You've grown far too serious since you earned your beta stripes, pup," said Cora with a sigh, "but I understand you're equally eager for answers."

Cora looked towards Hermione before she began her explanation. "I doubt you remember this, but I visited you when we first confirmed you were pregnant. I know the exact date the pups were conceived and yet when I used the diagnostic spell, it confirmed your pregnancy as being nearly four months along."

Four months ago, she was still living in relative safety with her friends; she could not possibly have been pregnant back then. Cora looked like she was still withholding something. "What is it? What are you not telling me?" she asked Cora.

"The pain you experienced earlier, it was probably due to your body trying to accommodate a sudden growth spurt in the pups. I believe you'll experience more of those moments till you're due for delivery," Cora looked like she was cautiously picking her words, "...more and progressively worse moments, depending on how rapidly the pups grow."

News that the agonising pain from before would not be an isolated event made Hermione despondent. Nearly four years ago, back when the Death Eaters weren't as powerful and the Order still thought it was okay for him to be out in the field, Harry and a small group of Order members had broken into the Lestrange vault at Gringott's to steal Hufflepuff's cup, an item later confirmed as one of Voldemort's horcruxes. The mission, though successful in its objective, did not go as planned.

Alerted to the break-in, a group of Death Eaters surrounded the bank forcing Order members back into the subterranean region—from where they ultimately made a daring escape on the back of the Gringott's dragon. Among the group of Death Eaters they fought that day, was Voldemort's insane sidekick, Bellatrix Lestrange. Cackling like the maniac she was, the witch had chased after them, throwing her favourite curse willy-nilly, indifferent to whether her side caught friendly fire. Hermione was in the process of mounting the dragon when a stray crucio hit her. The spell could not have lasted two minutes, but Hermione held firmly it was the worst pain she had ever experienced ...until today. Recalling the excruciating pain she experienced before Malfoy showed up, she did not think she could survive regular episodes of the same.

Her dismay must have shown because Cora's expression turned more compassionate. "As a witch you may be physically weaker than us, and I imagine the pregnancy has you feeling drained and out of sorts, but you have a strong magical core, Hermione; I believe you have it in you to survive this."

The sincerity coming through in Cora's words helped reassure Hermione, somewhat.

"Now, as far as the pain goes, I can't risk giving you any pain potions, but we can work towards making your body stronger so you're able to cope better with the rapid changes taking place within you." Cora now spoke in that no nonsense tone one usually associated with people in her profession. "On my way here, Zoey mentioned that you've been experiencing nausea and throwing up a lot—"

"You've been throwing up?" Malfoy asked Hermione then turned to glare at Zoey, "And why is this, the first I'm hearing of it?" His voice was low but threatening all the same.

"Well, it's normal, isn't it? Nothing unusual about a pregnant woman being sick," Zoey explained, eyes darting about the room. She shifted her weight from one foot to another.

"Are you a Healer now to decide what is normal or not?"

Hermione grew worried for Zoey, Malfoy looked ready to leap across the room and tear her throat out.

"N-no, n-no, sir," Zoey whimpered and fell to her knees. Lowering her head and keeping her eyes on the ground, she said, "I'm so-sorry, sir. I didn't think it mattered; she's just a prisoner."

If Hermione was shocked to see Malfoy angered by Zoey's statement, she was stunned by how swiftly the old mediwitch moved to step between the two before Malfoy could say or do anything.

"You daft girl," Cora rebuked Zoey, "even if you don't understand how important Hermione is to the pack, you should know the importance of following orders. Another incident like this and next time I won't stand between you and the discipline you so rightfully deserve."

Zoey appeared to visibly shrink at Cora's admonishment. She looked like she dare not risk the wrath of the other two weres in the room by opening her mouth, opting instead to nod in acknowledgement of the warning she was issued before letting her head hang further in shame.

"If we'd known sooner, we could have saved you some discomfort," said Cora, having turned to face Hermione once more. "It's not uncommon for the sense of taste to change during the course of a pregnancy. I'll have our potioneer whip up a couple of variants of the health potion so we can settle on one more agreeable to your system in its current state. I'll also ask the cook to send you meals you may actually enjoy eating so your body isn't expelling much-needed nutrients. You may be a prisoner, Hermione, but you're also carrying the future of the pack, I believe we can get some more exceptions made for you," said Cora, giving Malfoy a brief but pointed look. He responded with a subtle nod, which made her wonder what kind of exceptions were being made for her and what was Malfoy's part in it.

"If there's nothing else, I shall take your leave," said Cora edging towards the door.

Hermione uttered a mumbled, "Thank you," feeling embarrassed by the consideration the mediwitch had shown her in light of her own rude behaviour earlier. The last few weeks she was all over the place where her emotions were concerned, going from angry to sad, sad to irritated, and then from irritated to giddy, all in the blink of an eye.

Hermione looked at Malfoy expecting him to take his leave as well, but he remained rooted like he was waiting for something.

Hermione looked from Malfoy to Cora for an explanation, who in turn responded with a chuckle upon observing both, Malfoy's stance as well as the baffled look Hermione wore.

"He wants to confirm for himself that his pups are okay," Cora explained. At her continued look of confusion the mediwitch added, "Just let him put his head to your belly so he can hear their hearts beating and put his mind at ease."

"Is that possible, so soon?" Hermione asked bewildered with everything she was learning.

"Absolutely. Plus wolves have excellent hearing so Draco should be able to hear them just fine if he presses his ear to your belly."

"Is that okay with you, Granger?" Malfoy asked her, looking like he fully expected her to refuse.

"Uh, I guess?" said Hermione, feeling unsure but seeing no harm in doing so. Later that night, as she lay in bed waiting for sleep to come, it would occur to Hermione that at no point that day was she uneasy over the prospect of Malfoy—the man who by his own admission had played a role in her rape—touching her.

"Thank you," said Malfoy, sitting at the edge of the bed and leaning forward to press his ear to her stomach.

—

Cora turned to briefly watch the couple before she quietly made her exit from the room, dragging a clueless Zoey with her. They were an odd pair, but there had to be something between Draco and Hermione for Luna to have blessed them so generously. She was an old were, though not quite an Elder, and as such many would likely dismiss her beliefs as superstitions but according to Oskar there was a greater magic at work when it came to Hermione's pregnancy than whatever the Fero potion was capable of producing.

It would benefit their pups and ultimately the pack, if Hermione and Draco formed a bond. With both having sworn allegiance to different sides in the war, she wasn't sure how the relationship would work out, but those were concerns for later. For now, she would give the odd couple the space and time needed for the delicate magic of the mate-bond to weave its spell on them.

—

Draco's head hovered over Hermione's distended abdomen. He made eye contact with her, silently seeking confirmation she was truly okay with what he was about to do. He patiently held still as he awaited her go-ahead. Even his wolf, who constantly demanded he seek her out and knot with her once more, seemed happy to sit back quietly. He recognised that the smallest mistake on his part could scare her off for good.

At a nod from her, he pressed his ear flat against her skin and held his breath. Her fingers twitched, but surprisingly, she did not shove him away like he was expecting her to.

Sighing in relief, Draco closed his eyes and tried to ignore the familiar rhythm of Hermione's heartbeat; instead, he focused on two new sets of heartbeats. As he tried to commit to memory the two new rhythms, Draco found something bubble within him he suspected was love for his unborn pups. His pups, he was listening to his pups' hearts beating. He could not help the smile that formed on his face at the thought.

"What is it?"

The whispered question drew his attention to her. He opened his eyes and took in the sheepish look on her face; she probably thought she was intruding but was too curious to resist asking. This lovely creature had no idea what a precious gift she had given him.

"I can hear them. It's amazing," he replied. His words though lacking in eloquence were accompanied by a tone that betrayed the reverence he felt in that moment. Afraid he may get carried away and do something foolish, undoing what little progress he made with her today, Draco decided it was best he leave immediately.

With great reluctance, he moved to leave, stopping at the door only briefly to look at her. "Thank you for this," he said and left hoping she would sense he was thankful to her for more than just letting him listen to his babies' heartbeats.