Chapter Fourteen

July 3, 2005

Narcissa Malfoy Dead in Azkaban

Former society maven and well-known supporter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Narcissa Malfoy neé Black was found dead in her Azkaban cell early yesterday morning of an apparent illness. Wife of notorious Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, the deceased was once part of a highly respected family that…

Antonin was gone from the cottage a great deal. Not that that was particularly unusual. He'd been escaping their home at every opportunity ever since they were forced to take the portkey what felt like a million years before. Hermione always struggled to keep track of how long they'd been stuck there in a never-ending cycle of monotony and heartache. It was easier to simply focus on each individual moment as it came. Anything more was too much.

But even though it wasn't exactly unusual for Antonin to disappear for hours at a time, somehow Hermione knew it was different than it used to be. At the very least she no longer believed escaping from her presence was his sole reason for leaving. Small steps, she supposed. There was never any hope that the two of them would fall madly in love like the couple next door. Nor was there much chance of them settling in a less nauseating but no less obvious love match like Luna and Rodolphus. The most they could hope for was mutual respect and a lessening in the pervasive tension between them. Some days she was hopeful they could achieve that, others she called herself a fool.

While she didn't know what he spent his hours doing outside, she knew that any time she was due for another visit with a Healer, Antonin would be gone. If there was even the slightest chance that she or Hannah would need an exam, he rushed out of the cottage without a word. Once he used to look forward to the time he was able to see and speak with Penelope Clearwater. Ever since the birth of their second child, he couldn't stand to be in the same room with the Healer. Hermione thought his behavior was petulant and ridiculous. Even though she had to admit seeing the two of them together made her the tiniest bit jealous, she knew how fleeting even the hope of happiness could be in their current situation. How could he be foolish enough to just throw it all away?

Nothing she said on the matter ever seemed to make him change his opinion, so eventually, she gave up trying. It was telling, however, that when she told him that Penelope had given her the all-clear after her second pregnancy for them to try again, he threw her down on the bed and began an exciting night she'd never forget. Anger and fury was its own sort of passion. For once, they were the ones disturbing the sleep of the neighbors next door, a fact that led to merciless teasing from Thorfinn the next morning. Hermione wasn't foolish enough to believe that she was the witch Antonin was thinking of when he used every trick he knew of to make her entire body scream. Not that it mattered in the slightest. Nor was she above taking advantage of the wizard's misplaced passion whenever she had an itch that needed to be scratched. All she had to do was mention the pretty Healer to see sparks fly. It seemed that the fearsome Death Eater finally had a weakness she could exploit. And exploit it she did.

"Do you think we should be worried that I'm not pregnant again?"

There had been a slight thaw between the two of them in the months following the theft of their second child. It was gradual, hardly visible at all to outsiders, but still present. Perhaps it was impossible for two human beings to exist in such a desolate state together without any sort of eventual bonding. Hermione would take what was offered and never ask for more. She needed support. While she continued to rely on Charlie to help keep her spirits up, there were just simply some aspects of her life he couldn't share. What happened behind her closed bedroom was far too intimate and personal to share with anyone other than Antonin.

His deep sigh proved that the wizard didn't want to discuss what had become something of a concern for both of them. She'd gotten pregnant the first time very quickly. The pregnancy itself had been fairly complicated, but the conception simple and straightforward. Their second attempt took no effort whatsoever. Of course, they'd had assistance from Penelope Clearwater's potion. While intellectually Hermione knew that it wasn't always so easy for a woman to get pregnant and sometimes one had to be patient and wait, she couldn't ignore the fear that something could go wrong and they'd be expelled from the program. It was their only shot at freedom. If they were deemed unfit for the program for any reason, they would be returned to Azkaban for the remainder of their miserable existence.

"We can't even catch our breath before you ask that?"

Hermione knew that he wasn't truly mad at her for bringing up the sensitive subject after a surprisingly enjoyable morning. They might have been little more than breeding stock for the Ministry, as Antonin often said, but at least there were some perks, some pleasurable ways to pass the time. He must've felt the same worry she did. Unable to remain in the bed, Antonin stood up and crossed the room to the chest of drawers that held their small collection of clean clothes. As he chose what he was going to wear for the day, he sighed again. While part of Hermione felt guilty for ruining the peace with reality, she wanted to know what he thought.

"We just need to be patient, Hermione. Anxiety is only going to make it harder in the long run."

"But if it doesn't happen soon…"

"Then we will worry about it later."

"But, Antonin…"

Hermione had the knack for frustrating Antonin faster than anyone he'd ever met in his entire life. Several times over the years they'd been forced to be in the other's presence following the end of the war he'd repeated that claim. Once she found it amusing, a challenge to continue. Not that morning. Even a stranger would've seen the signs that the man was about to lose his patience.

"Hermione, stop. It will happen. If it takes longer, we might have to be tested again, but I don't think it will come to that."

"I wish Penelope would just give us another vial of the potion that she gave you last time. If it was effective, I don't understand why they don't give them to everyone."

The clenching of Antonin's jaw was a warning that if they continued down their current path, the rest of his limited patience would be tested. Whether he was upset that she mentioned the sensitive subject that was Penelope or if he didn't like being reminded of the mysterious potion he'd been given was unclear. Some men could be prickly about reminders that they might've required outside help to perform their duties in the bedroom. Antonin was still a bit of a mystery to Hermione. She was never quite sure what might set him off.

"That potion isn't designed to be used on a consistent basis."

"But it worked so well."

"Hermione, it's not an option."

She'd had a number of questions about the potion Antonin was given that had never been answered. Every time she brought it up, he would get defensive and change the subject or leave the room entirely. What could be so terrible about it that he would refuse to try it again or even talk about it? Wasn't the hope of their eventual freedom enough to endure even more indignities? She certainly suffered enough to complete her end.

"I don't understand why you never want to talk about it. What was so horrible about it that you refuse to try it again?"

"It doesn't matter. It's over and I'm never taking it again."

When it came to stubbornness, the two were well-matched. Perhaps that was why they were unable to progress their relationship beyond anything past mutual disdain and a begrudging agreement to continue the program together. Outside of the conditions of the breeding program free to do as they please, they would scatter to opposite ends of the earth if possible.

"I wish you would tell me. You know I hate when I'm kept in the dark."

"Kind of like how you treated me throughout the entire time you were pregnant with Henry?"

One thing Hermione hated more than having her questions ignored and living in ignorance was having her past mistakes thrown in her face when she wasn't expecting them. His statement, spoken no doubt in anger, upset her because she knew he was absolutely right. She couldn't deny that when she was first pregnant she never told him about the potential danger she was in. She could've died many times or their son could've died. Even though she knew at the time she was being unfair to Antonin, she was the one keeping him in the dark. She thought it would make everything easier if she just didn't say the words out loud. Her cheeks burned with her shame that she couldn't even deny anything he said.

"I've never apologized for that, but I hope you know, Antonin, that I am sorry."

"For what? For shutting me out? For not telling me how serious it all was? What exactly are you sorry for?"

"I suppose I'm sorry for all of it. It really wasn't fair of me not to tell you anything."

Antonin scoffed, irritated that she would say something so blatantly obvious. Both of them struggled to keep control of their notorious tempers. It was a conversation they should've had a long time ago. Knowing that the ice between them was melting enough to even entertain the idea of being so open and honest should've been encouraging. Maybe when the tense moment was over and they'd each had time to calm down and process they would realize that fact.

"Why did you keep everything from me?"

"You mean besides the fact that I hated the very breath in your lungs and would've rather pulled my tongue out of my own head than speak to you about anything?"

The wizard's snort of laughter encouraged a smile to form on her face. It wasn't the first time she was made aware that Antonin had a bizarre sense of humor. Most men wouldn't find her statement amusing, but Antonin Dolohov wasn't like most men. Or any man. That was certainly good in Hermione's opinion. The world wouldn't have survived with more than one. Some of the tension in the room began to dissolve.

"Yes, besides that. While that is an excellent reason to never speak to me, I don't believe it was the only one."

"No, it wasn't."

Hermione could hardly believe their conversation. How were they both remaining so calm? She half-expected Antonin to throw a shoe at her every time she even looked in his direction. Was she really about to tell the man why she'd worked so hard to keep the truth from him? Sighing, she knew the time had come to lay everything bare.

"I didn't tell you anything about my first… about Henry because I was out of my mind with worry. As soon as I knew how serious it all was, I didn't want you to know because…"

"Why, Hermione?"

"Because telling you would've made it real. You wouldn't have allowed me to keep on denying to myself that something was wrong. And you would've been scared, scared that I would mess up your chance at freedom."

"Hermione…"

It was the mark of an honorable man that Antonin didn't even try to deny the truth. Death Eater and killer he might have been once upon a time, but even he had his own strange sense of honor. He knew that their lives and their chance at a future outside of the Ministry's constant control were wrapped up irrevocably with the other. The conditions of the program were very clear. If something happened to one, the other would be gone too. If one died, the survivor would be thrown back in Azkaban to rot and die. There would be no other chances.

"Hermione, the potion that Penelope… that Healer Clear-… that she gave me almost killed me."

His confession was made so softly that if she hadn't been waiting for his response, she might not have heard it. Hermione could hardly trust her ears. How was that even possible? She didn't recall him seeming out of sorts whatsoever that day. Of course, she had to admit to herself that thanks to the enhancement to his regular performance, she'd been so exhausted that she fell into a deep sleep. The Hogwarts Express could've gone through their bedroom and she might not have heard it. She had so many questions and for once wasn't even sure where to start. Taking pity on her, Antonin answered all of them before she could utter a single syllable.

"The reason the potion isn't used more often is because for a number of people, myself included it seems, it can cause very dangerous side-effects. She knew that, but thought the risk was worth it to keep us from being sent back to Azkaban. As soon as the potion ran its course, I felt sharp pains in my arm and felt like my chest was being crushed. You were asleep and I didn't want to bother you."

"You should've woken me up."

"I made it to the fireplace before I collapsed. Hannah was there thankfully or I might not have…" He cleared his throat, unwilling to give a voice to his fear. "She flooed for help. Within seconds Penelope was back in the cottage. She'd never left the island because she was afraid it might happen. Too many questions would be asked if another Healer found me or if I died."

Hermione couldn't believe he'd managed to keep such a horrible secret from her for almost an entire year. What else was he keeping from her?

"She had several potions and healing spells for me. When she knew that I was going to be all right, she had Thorfinn help me get back to bed. I was given strict instructions to remain in bed as much as possible for the next week."

At the time, Hermione thought it odd that he'd been so lethargic and unwilling to get out of bed. She'd even made a few quips at his expense about being an old man too tired to function. In the world they lived in, it wasn't too difficult to explain why a person would stay in bed all day. There were several inmates of the island who struggled with severe, crippling depression that made it almost impossible to function normally. It was an unfortunate side-effect of the hell they were enduring. She had no idea that Antonin was recovering from his near-death experience. Shame battled with anger within her, each emotion growing stronger by the second.

"Why wouldn't you tell me this?"

"Because I didn't want you to worry. I thought it might frighten you and make you lose the baby."

"Why wouldn't Hannah tell me? Or Thorfinn?"

"Because I asked them not to. Hannah is a loyal Hufflepuff and Thorfinn would crawl naked over glass if she asked him. Besides, they both agreed with my reasons. They didn't want you worried either."

It seemed strange that both of them were so willing to keep such large secrets from the other out of fear that they would be worried. Maybe he was in denial too. It must have been frightening to almost die. And he was correct. If he'd told her, she would've been unable to think about anything but what would've happened to her if something happened to him. She could very well have stressed herself out to the point that her body would've rejected her second pregnancy. Other women on the island had learned to their heartache how detrimental anxiety could be.

"We've got to both stop lying to each other. It's not doing either of us any good."

Antonin nodded his head in agreement. They had to put their personal feelings aside to continue through with the program together. It wasn't fair to their partner to put their lives and potential freedom in jeopardy without even knowing it. Whether they liked it or not, they needed each other. As he carried his clothes into the bathroom, Hermione knew that the conversation was over. Before he closed the door behind him, he turned to face her one last time.

"Please try to stop worrying. There's nothing wrong with you. It's going to happen again."

In the end, Antonin had been right. While there was still at least another month of fretting and fear that the hateful Aurors were going to show up in their bedroom to drag them both back to prison for failing in their duties, the day Hermione realized she was pregnant again arrived. Relief was tinged with crippling sorrow that she couldn't shake off. She might be able to continue living on the island with the hope that one day she would be able to leave, but in just a few months' time, she would be laboring to bring another child into the world only to have it stolen. Twice already had been unbearable. Would she be able to survive a third?

Once she had the confirmation from her concerned Healer, she stepped outside of her bedroom with a heaviness in her heart. Though wishing to be far away from the Healer he still couldn't bear to speak to since she made an innocent remark he believed to be callous and thoughtless, Antonin remained just outside the door waiting. A simple nod of her head was all she could muster. His shoulders dropped in clear relief and the slow hardening of his features as he contemplated the gravity of her news began.

Being outside in the wide, open spaces still frightened Hermione. It seemed silly and weak, but she didn't know how to overcome the choking desire to run back inside to the safety of the cottage each time she stepped out. She had to close her eyes, take a deep breath, and remember all of the other times she'd been able to be outside without any trouble. Antonin helped her in the beginning. Charlie helped her too. There was a real possibility that at least lingering bits of that fear would plague her wherever she went for the rest of her life. Existing in such a small cell for so long caused her more damage to her psyche than she realized.

But if she stayed another moment inside, she knew she would be in danger of breaking down emotionally or losing her temper with Antonin. Neither option would be good for the early stages of her pregnancy. Penelope might have been confident and optimistic that she would have few to no complications now that they knew more about how her body handled pregnancies, but she was hesitant to believe the Healer. Pushing aside her fears for the present, Hermione began a walk around the village square.

Perhaps it was because she had a serious expression on her countenance that discouraged any idle conversations, but no one bothered her as she walked. All of the island's inhabitants managed to settle into their fucked up lives in the best manner they knew how. Some would carry bitterness and anger with them through the rest of their lives. Others tried to be optimistic and hopeful about a future away. Everyone was different. They all handled their grief in their own personal ways. The activity around the village square often brought her a sense of joy, a feeling that maybe they could convince themselves they were just another normal village full of ordinary people living ordinary lives.

That day she wanted none of that impossible fantasy. Even the sound of the quiet voices from people she'd once considered close friends grated on her nerves. Halfway around the square, she turned her course towards the woods that surrounded the cottages. A silent, calming presence at her side told her without needing to see with her eyes that Charlie was there. He often popped up when she needed him.

Neither of them spoke as the village melted away and the trees thickened around them. Most of the comfort that came with being around the former dragon keeper was that she didn't have to talk. Too many people thought she was still the same person she'd been when the war was still being fought. They thought that she was still the witch who had all the answers or at least the witch who knew where to find the books with all the answers. Once upon a time she had been helpful at making plans. Somewhere along the way she'd changed, become someone else entirely. Only Charlie never made her feel like she should try to be someone she wasn't.

She thought about telling her friend the news she'd just received, but before the words formed on her tongue, she thought better of it. A big reason why the two of them sought out the other's company was because when they were together, they almost never spoke about the program. In the first days when Charlie was still reeling from the understanding that he would have to betray his brother over and over again, Hermione listened to him patiently, never interrupting because she knew that he was on the verge of a breakdown if he didn't let it all out. Even though it wasn't his fault, he felt guilty and felt that he didn't deserve to be around his family. Isolation would've killed him. But time could make anything seem almost normal. Though not as close to his family as he used to be before the war, he could be in the same room without bolting.

All telling Charlie about her pregnancy would do was remind him about what he had to do with his brother's wife. When they were alone together, they could almost forget. So they continued their walk through the trees without speaking. What was going through the wizard's mind was a mystery. It was easier that she didn't know. Likely it wouldn't have been pleasant or encouraging. Very few of the island's inhabitants had those kinds of thoughts any longer.

"It's warm today. Do you think the water..?"

Whatever Charlie was about to say was cut off by the sudden arrival of several of the villagers. Rarely were they interrupted on their walk by so many people. Each of them was in a hurry to get to the beach. Something about the heaviness of the atmosphere led Hermione to believe that they weren't headed there to enjoy a dip in the ocean. Concern and confusion on Charlie's face mirrored hers. Without asking what was going on, they sped up their steps to follow.

"Get the Healers!"

Hermione made it a point to stay as far away from Draco Malfoy as possible. The history between them had always been tense and five years in Azkaban combined with the years on the island hadn't improved their relationship. She might have had an odd sort of respect for his father and perhaps one might even call that a friendship, but the feelings didn't extend to the son. Despite her feelings, she felt a sharp pang in her stomach at hearing the desperation in Draco's voice.

The scene on the beach was chaotic, confusing. More of the villagers poured out onto the sand as news traveled between their cottages that something was happening. She couldn't see from where she was standing. Charlie helped to break up the crowd around Draco enough to allow them both to see. Hermione wished he hadn't bothered.

Lucius lay lifeless on the sand, dripping from head to toe. At first glance it seemed that Draco was the one to pull his father out of the water. He was sobbing, alternating between pleading with his father to wake up and screaming at someone to get a Healer. No one had the heart to tell him that it was too late. His father was beyond help.

"He went mad when he found out about his wife."

"Said it wasn't worth living in a world without her. What would be the point in freedom?"

Snippets of whispered explanations from those gathered around them filled in the blanks. Knowing that Narcissa was dead saddened Hermione even if she felt no love for the woman personally. She knew how much Lucius loved his wife. Hearing the news of her passing had to have been devastating. Likely he read about it. No one on the mainland would concern themselves with telling him face to face. Most days she avoided reading the Daily Prophet. It was usually only filled with untrue propaganda touting the virtues of Umbridge's regime. The Ministry of Magic had tight control on the newspaper and didn't allow any content within that was the least bit inflammatory. If one was naïve or stupid enough to believe everything they read, they might actually believe that the world was a good place.

A scream of sheer devastation ripped through the air startling all who were present. Several villagers stepped back to allow Ginny closer. Ready to give birth any day, she could hardly move with the bulk of her stomach, but she had always been determined. Charlie tried to stop his sister from moving towards her dead partner. In her condition she didn't need the stress. Of course, Weasleys were nothing if not stubborn. Pushing her brother away, she ignored all of the pleas to stop to see for herself that her world was about to crumble.

Ginny didn't love Lucius. Usually she could hardly stand to be in the same room with the man. Their pairing had been both unusual and cruel. Perhaps someone within the Ministry was eager to exploit some of the old wounds of the past in their placement. Lucius certainly didn't love Ginny. Based on the selfishness of his actions, he didn't even care what happened to her either. Bitterness bubbled in Hermione's gut. They all knew what would happen next. Without a partner, Ginny was lost. Lucius might have found his own escape but only by dooming Ginny to a lifetime in Azkaban.

Once the news reached the right ears, it didn't take long before the beach was cleared by a large group of aurors. Healers rushed to see for themselves if their prisoner could be saved. When it was determined that he couldn't, they turned their attention to Ginny. One of them grabbed her upper arm, rolled his eyes in an annoyed and petulant fashion, and Disapparated them both away from the island. Where she was taken was anyone's guess. Maybe straight to Azkaban or perhaps to a guarded hospital to wait for her baby to be born. No one, not even her family knew.