Recap:
"Then—"
"He's after you."
Chapter 2: The Blakes
Apparition. Portkeys. Floo Powder. It was all useless to them for they could never be certain how safe they would be, whether they were being watched or not. And so, gathering all that was necessary, the disheveled family set off at dawn in an inconspicuous-looking black automobile.
"I still don't see why Harry and the others can't know where we're going," Hermione said with much irritation. It was two days after she had been told of Voldemort's aims, giving her ample time to settle back into the normality of such things as arguing with her callous husband.
"Because," Draco sighed, "the less people that know where we are the better. Do you think your great hero would want it on his head that he gave us to Voldemort?"
Hermione was about to retort when his words took form in her mind. No, of course she wouldn't want that weight on Harry's shoulders. Draco was right, no one could know where they were going for all their safety.
She yawned deeply and curled into her husband, aware of the fact that he was stiff and unyielding to her. Her mind was on different things, however. Last night she Apparated to Harry and Ron's house in the country, very much against Draco and Melantha's wishes. She wondered if he'd found out and his coldness was a result of that. Not that it mattered; she had been right before in saying that if he had friends he would understand. She needed to tell them at least that she was leaving. And that's precisely what she did, her soul aching to tell them more. She could still see the agony in their faces when she delivered the bad news.
"How long will you be gone?" Harry all but demanded, after Hermione refused to tell them where she and her family were going. "And what if we need to reach you?"
"We won't be gone long," Hermione said in a would-be reassuring voice, if not for the slight tremble and the fact that she really didn't know when they were returning. "Probably just until after the baby is born. I can't very well sit around and wait for Voldemort to come and take me while I'm pregnant."
"And we can't have any contact?" Ron asked, biting his lower lip. He and Lavender were planning on getting married soon. But how could he when Hermione was leaving for an unknown amount of time? He couldn't get married without her there.
"This isn't any easier for me, you know," Hermione sighed, the events leading up to their decision to leave still fresh in her head. It had been Melantha's idea, though she had been reluctant to say it, knowing how much Hermione would hate leaving her home and friends to run off and hide. Not that that's all they would be doing, of course. They would all prepare themselves for the inevitable battle that would surely take place, Draco and Melantha more so with the growing life inside of Hermione. She would not be idle though, for there was much to do. Little Dante would be past one after his brother or sister was born, old enough in Draco's mind for him to obtain a wand and begin simple spells. The more he knew the safer he would be, was Draco's reasoning, and grudgingly Hermione agreed. "I don't want to leave, but it's the safest place for Dante and the new baby. Draco and Melantha will take care of me. My only qualm is how much I'll miss you all."
Ginny gave a soft sniffle, her face already glowing with pregnancy.
"Just come back," Harry said, straightening his face. He had always been so good at making her feel better, only now it seemed he too could not fully control his emotions. He was bordering on true grief, his struggle evident. "I love you, Hermione," he whispered, embracing her like the brother she saw him as.
"I love you too, Harry," she answered. "And don't worry. How could I not come back when you still owe me a re-match at Wizard's Chess?"
He chuckled half-heartedly and was loathe to let her go and allow the others to say their good-byes. In the end she had to rush home to avoid caving to an all-out breakdown in their living room.
"So where are we going?" Hermione asked after they had been driving for over an hour. To ensure that she would not tell her friends both Draco and Melantha agreed to not tell her before they left.
"My brother-in-law's house," Melantha said, looking at her through the rearview mirror. Hermione didn't know where she learned to drive, or where the car came from for that matter, but it seemed like such an important fact in the grand scheme of things. "He lives in Scotland with his wife and son. We'll be safe there."
"Are you sure?" She had to ask.
"Of course," Melantha laughed. "He's Dante's older brother."
"Right," Hermione sighed, but she couldn't help her apprehension at meeting a new set of people when she and her family were in the greatest of danger. But, then again, nothing seemed right about what they were doing.
Hermione's first impression of Galen Blake was how completely different he was from his sister-in-law. While Melantha was strong, out-going, and more often than not full of life, Galen emitted a sense of caution in his standoffishness and the shifty way he surveyed the group that stood in a huddle under the tiny roof of his porch to escape the rain.
"Galen, hi!" Melantha greeted him warmly, pulling him into a hug that Hermione gathered he would have rather gone without. "This is my son, Draco, as you know." She motioned to him in the back, the rain soaking his back for he'd pushed Hermione up to the house to keep her warm and dry. At the moment, however, Hermione felt she would have much rather been in Draco's position—it was an unbelievably hot September day. That, and Galen wouldn't take his eyes off her. She felt very much exposed. "And this is his wife, Hermione, and their son Dante."
At the mention of his brother's name Galen's face darkened and he seemed very much to want to slam the front door in their faces.
"Did anyone see you?" he asked, ignoring the introductions.
"Of course not," Melantha sighed, rolling her eyes. "Now can we come in? Dante will catch a cold, and Hermione is in no condition to be out in the rain either."
"Yes, right," Galen stumbled over his words as he backed into the house so they could enter. "Of course."
Once inside he quickly excused himself and returned a moment later with a strikingly beautiful blonde woman, who did not belong in this dark and gloomy house, and a very handsome young man who couldn't have been older than twenty. He had dark hair like his father and soft deep blue eyes like his mother, the supermodel blonde. And he too could not keep from staring at Hermione. She wanted to slap them both. Or wished very much that his wife would slap her husband and son.
"Hello," said the blonde, her smile perfect like the rest of her. "I'm Sitara, Galen's wife." She shook all their hands individually, giving each a toothy smile that seemed to win them over. Hermione felt oddly comforted by this woman who could live in a house in the middle of nowhere with her intense little family.
"And I," said their son, immediately taking Hermione's hand and bringing it to his lips. Draco made a pitiful attempt to suppress a growl in his throat, "am Kamal. But you may call me Kam." And though swooned by his good looks and even better charm, Hermione did not hesitate in her response.
"It's lovely to meet you, Kam," she said silkily, slipping her hand easily from his to grasp Draco's. "This is my husband, Draco, and our son, Dante."
Kamal's smile drooped but did not fall and he shook Draco's hand with a renewed vigor.
Later that night, in the comfort of their own room, and with Dante asleep in a crib at the foot of their bed, Draco expressed his concerns about the family they were staying with.
"If that scum lays one finger on you," he seethed, referring to Kamal, "I will not hesitate to obliterate him. He has no business looking at you that way."
Though comforted by his intense jealousy, Hermione could not help but feel that her husband was being a little over protective. The Blakes were, after all, providing them with a safe haven.
"I think he's very sheltered," was her response. "His father doesn't look like he's been out of the house in decades. And I wouldn't be surprised if he pressed the others to stay as well."
"As true as that is, that doesn't mean he should drool over someone else's wife."
"What do you mean 'as true as that is'? What do you know what them?" She was asking with nothing but curiosity.
Draco groaned and shifted his position on the mattress, tucking his arms under his head.
"Did Melantha tell you something?"
"Of course. She told me what I needed to know to trust them."
"And that was?" Hermione pressed. She had a strange desire to know everything little thing about them.
"After his brother was killed," Draco finally caved, referring to Galen, "he staged his own death and the deaths of his wife and son. They moved to Scotland and lived in secrecy. Only Melantha and Dumbledore, until now, knew where they were and that they were still alive. Apparently," he went on, his voice monotone and bored, "Galen had been a Healer and delivered Melantha's baby." Hermione tried to keep a straight face as he referred to himself as "Melantha's baby".
"He couldn't have been happy about that," Hermione reasoned. "His brother murdered by her brother-in-law who fathered her child."
"He was furious," Draco said flatly. "He would have refused to do it if not for Dumbledore. And the same goes for the situation now." He turned on his side suddenly, holding her eyes. "That's why he looks at you like that. In his eyes you're the reason his family is being disrupted. The last time it happened he lost a brother."
"Sitara and Kamal don't seem to have a problem with it."
"Why would they? They've been forced to feign death for eighteen years. I'd want to see some new faces too."
"So they've never left this property?"
"They've never left this house." Hermione immediately thought of the late Sirius Black.
"What about food? And other supplies?"
Draco shrugged.
"Who knows," he yawned. "And who cares."
Hermione wanted to say that she did, that she was fascinated with the Blakes, but stopped herself. Draco clearly did not like them, nor would he appreciate Hermione's interest in them. So she curled up beside him and closed her eyes, hoping sleep would come soon.
Draco reluctantly left the house early the next morning with Melantha. They were going to meet Dumbledore in southern Scotland that evening. The only reason Draco finally agreed to go was because it was important to Hermione and Dante's safety.
This left Hermione in a very odd and uncomfortable situation. While Galen stared at her with something close to fear and anger, Sitara and Kamal treated her like a goddess and all but kissed the floor at her feet. After breakfast, Galen retreated to his study in the back of his house, leaving Hermione alone with the adoration of the other two. She clung to Dante like a security blanket.
And then, quite suddenly, it was only Kamal and his unblinking eyes, for Sitara had gone to make lunch.
"So you named Dante after my late uncle?" Kamal asked, seemingly enthralled by her answer: a simple shrug. "What was Hogwarts like?" He would have attended had it not been for the move and his premature death.
"Brilliant," she said honestly. "That's where I met Draco."
Kamal's expression shifted slightly.
"Did you do well in your studies? Dad thinks I would have received top marks had I gone."
"I did fairly well," she said modestly. "Before we had to come here I was in training to be an Auror."
"Fascinating!" he quipped, inching closer to her and Dante on the rug of the living room. Dante seemed oblivious to their conversation, his fat little hands occupied with the array of new toys he'd been presented with by Sitara; Kamal's baby toys. Hermione was grateful, but not too keen on accepting them.
"So your father taught you?"
"And mum. They both had all their old school books so I learned from them. When I was old enough dad put a spell on the house so I could practice magic without alarming the whole countryside." He chuckled under his breath. "I set the house on fire three times in the first year."
"I'm sorry," Hermione said suddenly, "but I can't stop wondering what it must be like to never leave a place all your life."
"It's fine," Kamal said, patting her shoulder, his hand lingering a little longer than was necessary. "I find myself wondering how you can live outside in a world with such horrible things."
"Like Voldemort?"
Kamal let out a horrified yell and backed away as if scalded. Sitara came bolting into the room, and a second later they were joined by a seething Galen.
"What's going on!" he demanded, his eyes fixed on Hermione. "What did you do!"
"I didn't—"
"She said his name," Kamal answered like a dutiful son.
"How dare you!"
"Fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself," Hermione protested, using Dumbledore's words. "And I have every right to say his name," she added hotly, suddenly very mad and protective. "He's after me."
Needless to say Hermione was left to her own devices for the rest of the day, eating in silence with the Blakes who now ignored her presence. Their fear of Voldemort was so great that they were still trembling when they went to bed around eleven o'clock. Draco and Melantha were still not back by midnight, so Hermione decided to turn in as well, carrying her sleeping son silently through the eerily quiet house.
"Hermione!" whispered an urgent-sounding voice in her ear. She bolted up, face to face with Kamal, the only light coming from the candle he held. Draco was not back yet, and the clock in the corner told her it was two in the morning.
"What is it?" she sighed, thankful that Dante was still asleep.
"Come here." He grabbed her hand and led her out of the room, down the hall, and into his own room. Once they were inside he closed the door and with a flick of his wand the room burst with light.
"What's going on?" She did not appreciate being woken in the middle of the night by someone who had caused her entire day to go to hell.
"I want to apologize for what happened earlier," he said, his voice holding a true note of concern. "I was out of line and I feel simply dreadful about how my parents reacted."
"And what made you change your mind?"
"I realize that you have had a very different upbringing than myself. And you are very much entitled to say his name. I am sorry."
For a long while Hermione didn't respond. And then, very slowly, she nodded.
"Very well," she said. "I forgive you."
The instant the words left her lips Kamal came barreling at her and swept her into a tight embrace. He kissed her cheek, twirled her around, then set her down again, his hands still on her arms. She felt dizzy and no longer tired. She wanted to talk with him some more now that he'd realized his error. She only hoped Sitara would do the same, for she truly liked the woman.
"I have to say something, Kamal," she said, gently shrugging off his hands. He looked slightly hurt, but was more happy at the fact that she was speaking to him again.
"Please, call me Kam."
"I'm in love with Draco," she said, holding his eyes. "I realize that you have been holed up here your entire life and I am the first person you've met your age, and I'm a girl. But I'm also a wife and a mother. You're a sweet guy, but I would feel much more comfortable if you wouldn't look at me the way you do. Or," she sighed, "touch me anymore."
Kamal let out a small, almost hurt noise and nodded.
"Forgive me," he said, reaching for her hand, though at the last second snapped it back to his chest. "It's true; I am very interested in you. You're beautiful and sweet and caring. You're how I imagine the woman I will marry if I ever leave this house."
"You're nearly twenty," Hermione said, having learned his age earlier. "Why haven't you left yet?"
"I would be endangering my family if I left," he sighed. "And I won't risk that. I only dream, and that's all I have. And then you showed up and for an instant I believed I got my wish."
Hermione was appropriately crushed and flattered. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt this charming boy, but what she had said was the truth. She loved Draco and always would. Kamal was nice, and perhaps if he had better social skills—he was touching her arm again—and Draco wasn't a factor, she might consider a date with him.
"Promise me something, Kamal."
"Anything."
She frowned at his eagerness to make her happy. He was such a sad person. It made her want to cry.
"Don't give Draco a reason to be more angry with you than he already is."
"But how have I wounded Draco in the first place?" And he really had no idea. In his mind he had done nothing wrong.
"You are overly interested in me and he is a very jealous and protective man. It is very much in his nature to take physical action when he feels threatened."
"Are you saying that I threaten him and he might attack me?" Kamal was horrified at the very thought.
"Yes," Hermione sighed. "The last thing I want is for you to get hurt."
"It is?" Kamal asked, brightening immediately.
"Good night, Kamal," she said. "I'll see you at breakfast."
"Good night, Hermione. Good night."
He opened the door for her like a gentleman, and would have escorted her back to her room and possibly tucked her in, if not for the sound of the front door opening. They heard the muffled voices of Draco and Melantha in the front room, and then the creaking of the stairs.
Hermione pushed Kamal gently back into his room and pulled the door closed, praying he would stay put. She hurried down the hall and met them at the top of the stairs, looking weathered and as if they'd just had a row with one another.
"Good night," Melantha yawned, giving Hermione's shoulder a gentle squeeze. She disappeared into the darkness and down the hall.
"What kept you?" Hermione asked, cupping Draco's face in her hands.
"Not now," he whispered, his voice husky. He captured her lips, backing her down the hall towards their room. He was fiery with passion, and, all of a sudden, so was she.
Well, I know not a lot happened in this chapter, but you did get to meet the Blakes. Interesting bunch, and much too intense for me. But we have only begun to scratch the surface with them. And there is still so much more! Haha!
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