"When Harry finds me, you are going to regret you were ever born," I spat furiously as Pansy Parkinson came into my room. She was cuddling a baby, but I could tell it wasn't one of the boys. The hair was a fine blonde and the child was tiny. My boys are sturdy, and if she's laid a hand on them, Harry won't even get a chance.
"I never thought you were so dependant, Weasley, stupid, of course, but rather pigheaded as well. Besides, I doubt he'll find you. Not without Draco, and he wont' help him, now will he?" She'd trailed off to address the baby. "Will he, Sabin? No, Daddy will take care of us when he comes home."
"You're going to be very surprised very shortly," I said, with a sickly sweet smile. I know how to play this game. They're not hurting me, and I don't think they will, after all, there must be something in it for them other than getting to kill my sons and I if they haven't murdered us yet. And I know the boys are alive, because they have to be alive. I will not lose my babies. I will not.
"Optimistic, too, isn't she?" Pansy said. "Well, that shan't last long, I suppose. And if you're at all interested, darling," now she's moved on to me, in a ridiculously bright tone, "those twins of yours are fed well and changed. I do so love children." My gut tells me that this woman shouldn't be touching my children. Another part, the part that isn't so much a mother as a soldier, tells me that she's telling the truth and it's better for her to touch my sons than for them to go hungry.
"Good," I answered, biting my tongue. "If you hurt one hair on their heads, I won't let Harry kill you. I'll do something much, much worse. Wand or no wand."
"What, send me to Azkaban? We both know you haven't got it in you to hurt me," she said, giggling. She's hardly changed since she was sixteen, she doesn't look older or more tired or wiser, she just looks more excited.
"Oh, you'd be surprised what I can do when I put my mind to it," I said, turning too look at the gray walls of the room I was locked in. There were darker spots where paintings must have hung. Whoever she's working with is far smarter than she is, certainly. They know what they're doing. Portraits, at least in our world, are dangerous. They can send messages, and overall, they've lovely dispositions. A portrait is as biased in personality as it is in appearance. "What were the pictures of?"
"I can't tell you that," she said, looking dubiously at the spots on the wall. "He said not too." I was right, then, the portraits were related to the place, a house, I thought, still in England, but remote. Nowhere near Hogsmeade, and certainly far from Godric's Hollow. If the portraits were related to the house, it must have been an old family, obviously purebloods. But it wouldn't be Parkinson House, it had been burnt a year ago, I knew. Malfoy Manor was a possibility, I supposed, if the child were Draco's daughter, the house would have admitted her, certainly. Or, there was an off chance we were at Twelve Grimmauld Place, since Malfoy's daughter would be far more directly related to the Blacks than Harry, or my sons would have owned the house, or been directly in the line of descent, and they would have opened the doors.
But I know this is getting me nowhere. There's no chance of escape from this room without outside help or my wand, there are no windows, the walls are relatively sound, and I can't even go near the door without being knocked out again. And the only person who's come so far is Pansy, who seems just a touch to deranged to help me.
"Is he strict?" I asked, more to break the silence than to hear the answer. I can tell he's strict, and I can tell she respects him. Tonks trained me as an Auror while I was pregnant, and I know my way around interrogation and interpretation.
"He's got to be," she answered, "But he loves Sabin, you know. I made him godfather. I think Draco will like that. Do you?"
"I can't tell you what Draco would think," I said, "I think he'd like to know he has a daughter though. Have you ever told him?"
"In a way," she said and then, giggling again, turned and left. "Don't go near the door again, I wouldn't want you damaged for the end."