Recap:

It broke her heart every time she looked at more than two words in the journal. But that particular paragraph had been one of the hardest to write. And it read:

My vicious sister and her foul husband are granting me one request. But after killing my beloved husband, violating me, and imprisoning me here, left with only my nightmares for what's to come—after all they have done to me with no remorse this small favor is nothing to them. They are allowing me to name my son, the tiny wizard that grows in my belly, the baby that they will rip from my arms the moment he is born. And I am naming him Draco.

Chapter 15: Pensieve

"What do you need me to do?" Hermione asked, pulling on her cloak as if she meant to go after Voldemort at this very moment. "I'll do anything for them."

"You don't need to do anything right now," Melantha sighed. "Voldemort won't make another move until after the baby is born. But even then there isn't much you could do in the condition you'll be in."

"I don't care if I've given birth to ten babies! I am going to be there and fight with you for their lives!"

"Why do you pretend you don't care for Draco?"

"Why do you hate him?" she sneered back, striking a nerve. Her journal had only gone so far as the night she'd moved out of Malfoy Manor, the night she hid her secrets in their vast collection of unused books.

Melantha took in a deep shaky breath, then motioned towards the door.

"Come with me," she said, masking none of her bleeding heart.

Hermione didn't budge.

"Where?"

"To the Manor. I have something I need to show you."

"And what might that be?" But she was completely willing; anything to get off the subject of her and Draco.

"My pensieve."

Flashback (in Melantha's pensieve):

Her silky strawberry-blonde locks blew carelessly in the cool evening breeze, soothing the hot red flesh of her cheeks. She was lying on top of him, her beautiful and loving husband, her body trembling with unbridled emotion.

"I love you," he whispered up at her, his voice steady.

"I...love you too," she cried, burying her face in the crook of his neck. "I love you…"

Her head flew back like a whip, a strong hand grasping a clump of her hair. She looked up in horror at the face that loomed over her; her vicious and ruthless brother-in-law—Lucius Malfoy.

"What a beautiful sentiment," he laughed and gave her hair another yank, forcing her to her feet. "Now, Melantha my dear, may we discuss my proposition? I hardly see any reason for you to refuse me again."

He only managed to drag her two steps, when she sunk her teeth into his arm, then raced for the still figure of her husband lying in the grass. His soft black hair swept perfectly across his forehead. He looked so peaceful, as if he were sleeping; nothing about him was harmed. Not a hair was missing.

"Dante!" she sobbed, throwing herself on him. It took all of Lucius' strength to pull her away. And, this time, he threw her over his shoulder to carry her into the Manor. She beat and clawed at his back, kneed him in the chest, bit his shoulder and ear to draw blood. But her efforts were in vain, for, before she noticed, she was tossed unceremoniously onto a couch. She tried to move, to jump up and ring his neck, only to find that he'd put a powerful binding spell on her. And without her wand she had no chance of freeing herself.

"Are you finally finished?" Narcissa asked, scrolling into the room as though they'd only been outside playing a game of crochet.

"She was being troublesome again," Lucius sighed. "I simply do not understand why she is so adamant about not helping her own sister and brother-in-law. Does family mean nothing?"

"You are not my family!" Melantha screamed, wrenching her back as she tried to lunge at them. "Your wretched mother adopted me because she knew you would amount to nothing!"

"How dare you speak to me that way!" Narcissa barked, brining the back of her hand across her face. "My mother gave you everything you could have asked for! And for what? A filthy ingrate who ran off with a mudblood! You're a disgrace to the Black name!"

"I am no Black," Melantha sneered through her teeth. "My name is Melantha Sauda Blake! Wife to Dante Xavier Blake! And no matter how long it takes me I will avenge his death!"

"That is just so precious," Lucius mocked, grabbing her by the collar. He kissed her roughly, relishing in the fact that she could do nothing to defend herself. "Did you turn the bed down, Narcissa?" He didn't even bother looking over his shoulder at her, his eyes locked on Melantha's, his pulse pounding at the thought of her naked little body. At seventeen, just barely old enough to be married, she was a full-grown full-figured woman, looking nearly twenty. Lucius, who was seven years her senior, cared not about her age or relation to his wife. After all, it was their plan, not only his, though he did get to experience far more benefits. She was a gorgeous youth, and he would have to be completely blind to not want to explore her womanly curves.

"Yes, Lucius," Narcissa replied, not phased in the least by the scene before her. "Come find me in the west den when you're finished…Oh, and Melantha dear. If you so much as think about trying to escape I will not hesitate to dispose of you the way you should have been the moment you walked through the door with that sorry excuse for a wizard…Have fun." And with a wink and a wave of her delicate little hand, she was gone.

-break-

In a dimly lit corner of the library, Melantha sat her mind absorbing every word in a book that sat propped on her swollen belly. There were dozens more texts scattered around her, all on the same topic: dark magic. She had formulated her revenge plan some months ago and had been working tirelessly ever since to fill her mind with every shred of dark magic she could obtain.

The sound of footsteps broke her concentration, and she looked up to find Lucius standing over her. He was smiling, his arms crossed haughtily over his chest. She smiled up at him, reaching her arm up so he could lift her to her feet. Part one of her plan was to make Narcissa and Lucius think that she'd come to terms with her fate and accepted it as the punishment she "deserved" for marrying Dante Blake.

"Narcissa and I have a surprise for you, my sweet," he purred, cupping her face in his hands. Ever since that night, the night her beloved perished, Lucius could not keep his eyes or hands off her. Thankfully, however, he had only forced her to his bed twice more. He hadn't touched her that way in many months now; no one wanted to sleep with a dead body.

"You need not buy me anything," she said sweetly with a hint of a giggle. What he didn't know was that the true reason behind her laughter was the thought of tearing his head from his body with her bare hands.

"We didn't buy you a thing," he assured her, and, taking her hand, led her out of the library and into the grand dining hall where Narcissa waited. The table was lavished in a spread of delicious delicacies; Melantha felt her stomach turn. She could never decide who she loathed more: husband or wife.

"Lucius tells me you requested something of us a few weeks back."

Her heart fluttered. No, they wouldn't!

"Yes, sister, I did."

"Well," she said, smiling warmly, fakely, "today is your lucky day, Me'tha." It took all over her willpower to keep from cringing at the use of her nickname, something only few called her. And Dante had definitely been one of them. "We agreed that you may choose the baby's first name. He will of course have our last name, and Lucius and myself will choose the middle name. After all, he will be our child."

"Are you sure?" Melantha asked, her hands balled into fists, grasping handfuls of the bottom of her shirt.

"Of course, dear. Did you have something in mind?"

"There's only one name I could ever choose," she whispered, her eyes misting. "It's strong and powerful…It's the name I always wanted for a son…It's Italian for dragon…I want to name him Draco."

-break-

Draco Malfoy was born on June 5th, healthy and beautiful. Melantha spent one night with her newborn baby boy, soaking in every last second, before leaving the Manor. Narcissa and Lucius insisted that she stay at least until she was fit to travel, but she convinced them that she had urgent business regarding her pureblood roots. And without anymore conflict she left, not returning again until her son's first birthday, a day she would never forget.

"Melantha, darling!" Narcissa had her wrapped in a tight bear hug before she was even across the threshold. Normally this type of behavior for the Malfoys was u heard of—but, then again, not everyone held such a secret as Melantha, a secret that could ruin them all. "I'm so pleased you could make it! We thought for sure your affairs would interfere with Draco's birthday."

"I found time I drag myself away," she said, pulling up her robe sleeve. "But it wasn't easy."

Both Lucius and Narcissa grinned ear to ear as their eyes fell on the brilliantly etched image of a snake slithering through the open mouth of a skull. They had been most anxious to learn when she had officially joined their ranks. They hadn't even heard of her at the gatherings, but knew it was only a matter of time.

"Magnificent," Lucius said, taking the younger woman's arm. They only went a short way, ending in the dining room, where a small blond-haired, gray-eyed baby sat, looking rather grumpy in a highchair. "Draco hasn't been fed yet this morning," he informed her, gently pushing her into the chair before the chubby little child. Her hand trembled as a small rubber-coated spoon was placed in her palm. "We thought you would like to do it while we went to buy his gifts."

Before she could protest, the apparated out of sight, leaving her alone and terrified with the son she had only seen once. In her year away from the Manor—her body and mind tested to their limits through her rigorous Death Eater training—she had nearly forgotten about Draco. She had begun to think he was only a dream. And he was all too real now, his angry gray eyes staring hungrily at the bowl of food that sat on the table beside her.

It took her nearly five full minutes to collect herself and gather some mushy food on the spoon. She pressed the spoon to his lips, only to have him spit it back out, spraying her newly cleaned and pressed robes with slimy baby slop.

"You horrid creature!" she hissed, flying to her feet. Draco laughed happily in his highchair, his short legs kicking wildly. "Look what you did to my robes!" The more she yelled, the more he laughed.

His laughter stopped promptly when she yanked him out of his chair, glaring deep into his shocked eyes.

"You are not my son," she sneered, setting him roughly back into his highchair. "You're being raised by my worst enemies, which makes you no better than them! They've poisoned you!"

She left without leaving any sign of where she was going or when she would return; and she wouldn't return for nearly another whole year, harder and farther from her goal. She was losing sight of what really mattered, what she had been planning for so long—she was losing herself.

Hours later Narcissa and Lucius would come back, furious that she would leave their son alone and unfed. But they would get over it. And in time she would become their most trusted and loyal asset.

End Flashback:

Hermione said nothing for a long while, her eyes stinging with the threat of tears. But she refused to cry. She needed to be strong and stay strong if she was going to protect her son.

"You forgot everything," she whispered, turning from the pensieve.

"Yes," Melantha admitted, her lips stiff with refreshed anger and hatred at what she'd been through, what she'd had to go through again only moments ago. "I was seventeen, just out of Hogwarts, when I married Dante. We were married for two months when Lucius came to me with what he called 'an urgent crisis'. It seemed Narcissa, my horrible quasi-sister, was unable to carry her children to term. She had three miscarriages when they decided to bring me into their twisted little world…"

"How long were you an actual Death Eater before you went to Dumbledore?"

At this the once sturdy older woman collapsed into a chair in tears. Hermione was so stunned she could do nothing for several minutes. Finally, regaining her senses, she knelt beside the grandmother of her son, stroking the back of her head in a slow, soothing motion.

"After that day," she said, referring to Draco's first birthday, "I never went back unless I absolutely had to. Slowly, I forgot who I was, who Draco was to me. I became his spiteful aunt, and the prized family member to his 'parents'. I spent eight years as a loyal Death Eater, completely convincing because I had been so pushed and pulled and manipulated by everyone around me…When I was twenty-five, Dumbledore approached me in a pub in Hogsmeade. It was the only time I've ever seen him close to tears…" She took a shaky breath before she could continue. "He spoke of Draco, who was now eight, of course, and how much like his father and Narcissa they were. He knew—but I will never know how—that Draco was in fact my son…Months later, after visiting the Manor at Lucius' request, I found myself overcome with emotion at the sight of the tiny Lucius replica that was my son. I excused myself immediately and fled to Dumbledore…Without even the slightest hesitation, he welcomed me into the Order with open arms."

"But you were still cruel to him," Hermione pointed out. She wasn't trying to be mean by bringing it up. She wanted to know why.

"He had become everything I hated, what I'd unwittingly became myself. I was too young and foolish to realize that it was because I'd fled in fear and sorrow over my lost husband that Draco turned out that way. If I had been a kind, nurturing aunt…Oh, what's it matter?" she asked with a shrug, wiping her eyes. "He denounced his family and Voldemort without ever knowing a kind soul."

"There's always time to make things right. You know that."

"If you were Draco would you give me a chance?" Melantha asked bitterly.

Hermione sighed, unable to answer. Because she truly didn't know what Draco would do. She hardly knew him. He was so complicated and mysterious. On his own, without any sort of persuasion, he'd turned his back on the dark ways. Everything about him could be questioned, but most especially was how he acted towards her and why he would want to be with her. Even after refusing the Dark Mark, he still loathed muggle-borns, thinking his class of purebloods in the high society were far superior. One didn't need to be a genius to see that. So what made her so different? What had caused them to come together in the past?

"He knew!" she gasped, her hand over her open mouth.

"He knew what?" Melantha asked anxiously.

"He knew you were his mother," she said, her words going a mile a minute. "He must have discovered your journal, or found out some other way what had happened. But he only found out recently, and when we lost our memories he lost that knowledge too. That's why he refused the Dark Mark! That's why he trusted you! That's why it wasn't difficult for him to be with me, because he knew! It all makes sense, Melantha!" She was so excited she nearly forgot about their impending crisis. "And he told Dumbledore and…and that's why he won't give us the potions to regain our memories! He didn't want to bombard Draco with all of that at once!"

Melantha sat back, astonished at her revelation. She truly was a genius.

"But something doesn't make sense," she finally said, furrowing her brow.

"What?" Hermione pouted.

"Draco refused the Dark Mark before you say you lost your memories."

"Then that means—"

"He's always been good."

Not a whole lot happened, but enough to make a full chapter. Heehee! Not much to say, so get with the praise:D

REVIEW:D

Note: was being a pooh about letting me have the breaks I wanted to for the flashback sequence, so that's why it is the way I have it.