PLEASE READ: I have included a general warning on this fic before, but it's been awhile and I realize that pretty much everybody's circumstances have changed since then and we are all on edge. I would never want to trigger somebody with my writing. So, here it is: this chapter contains violence. This fic will contain violence from here on out and basically all sorts of unsavoury things that happen during war. This chapter in particular features the torture of a main character, I don't think it's too graphic, but it's there. If you have specific questions feel free to message me. That said, if you choose to proceed I do hope you enjoy this.

Chapter 50

Draco's witch was killing him. It was partially his fault, he'd planned on waiting to propose to her after the fête, but he just couldn't stand the idea of her walking in there without his ring on her finger. Even if it only meant anything between the two of them, because to the rest of society their very appearance at this event, on top of their already well-known betrothal made them basically married.

Which might have been part of what had encouraged him to act, to give her another token of his devotion. He'd presumably had a dalliance with a witch who was, in the eyes of the rest of the party attendants, not the woman on his arm. It was not unusual for men of his station to have affairs, to even keep mistresses, but there were sure to be whispers, and while he'd be excused for it immediately by the general public, this part had to be hard enough for her to play as it was without that embarrassment piled on top. He was deeply ashamed, himself, even though he knew he hadn't actually done anything wrong.

Or maybe it was just that she looked so beautiful. Not quite like her, he knew she wouldn't have chosen her own ensemble, she prefered less fabric, cleaner lines, and that showed in how she carried herself. But his mother had trained her well, he would be the only one to notice how uncomfortable she was, everybody else would just see a gorgeous witch.

A gorgeous witch who was his, so he'd claimed her. Again. But she'd one-upped him and just before they'd been announced, right after his parents, she'd whispered in his ear: "Tonight, I want tonight to be the night, love." And then she'd smirked.

And he had been barely holding it together ever since.

The thing about Hermione was that she didn't understand how truly enchanting she was. She'd decided that she was some kind of plain little swot sometime during primary school, from what he'd gathered from her parents. And while he'd been able to convince her that she was beautiful, she didn't truly believe that anybody really thought that other than him and maybe their parents.

Now he watched her, making the rounds with his mother, breasts practically spilling over her bodice. The corset was an article of clothing he'd never had an opinion about before tonight, now his thoughts were all over the place. On the one hand, he hated for her to be uncomfortable, and that he couldn't really feel her when he touched her; but he was also a man, and her cleavage was delicious.

And she was a hit. He knew she would be an object of curiosity, which was why it had been decided that his mother would make the introductions, both to show her support for their relationship, and because she was an expert at navigating these situations, but it quickly became clear that the two most important women in his life had charmed half the room.

He had been hovering beside his father doing his best to make polite conversation with Lucius' political and business associates while keeping an eye out for Hermione until his father actually elbowed him.

"They've done their thing, we can go retrieve them now."

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. "How do you deal with this?"

"Carefully and with patience. And if it makes you feel better, this is Mignonette's first public outing. Curiosity will die down after this." Lucius paused. "The jewelry was well chosen, it suits."

"Thank you."

"As does the ring."

Draco snuck a look at his father out of the corner of his eyes. "I meant no offense in not consulting you on its design. You helped with the first one, it felt important that I do this on my own."

"I agree. I'm proud of you." He looked towards the women they'd almost reached. "You should share a dance with your mother later and when you do I'll take the opportunity to dance with-" he hesitated, "Mia, but other than that, it would be understandable if you kept her close."

They had circulated the story that Mia was the last of her family, that she had been living in France with a Great Aunt who had recently died, and that was the reason she'd come to live with her betrothed. Which meant that her reticence to mingle too much could be explained, given her grief. It was one thing to make her way around the party with her future mother-in-law, and another for her to be expected to dance with strange wizards.

"Thank you Father," he murmured as the witches in question turned, as if sensing their presence. "The advice is much appreciated."

They each took their witch's arms and, as if summoned (or as if waiting for the opportunity) the Minister of Magic appeared.

"Lord and Lady Malfoy!" He greeted them, and then lowered his voice as if they were all sharing a great secret. "Lucius, Narcissa," he looked at Draco, "Scion Malfoy, it is so good to see you all." He eyed Hermione. "And I'm afraid I'm unacquainted with this charming young lady?"

Draco looked at his father who gave him a sharp nod. "Mr. Minister, may I present my betrothed, Mia Garnier."

Hermione extended her hand and allowed him to kiss her knuckles. Draco was proud of her for staying composed, the man was nearly as odious as his undersecretary. "A pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Minister."

"Welcome to Britain," he responded.

"Thank you sir."

The Minister was so pleased that he was all but bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Your English is perfect, I don't even detect an accent."

Draco resisted the urge to squirm in irritation. The Minister wasn't being rude, per se, condescending to be certain, but what bothered Draco was that this was a rather ham fisted attempt to gather information on Hermione. If he was going to be an unapologetic opportunist he should at least be good at it.

But, brilliant witch that she was, she wasn't phased. "I was born in England, and spent my early childhood here."

"Ah. But your family is French?" The Minister pressed.

"Originally."

If he could have, Draco would have smirked. She was perfectly stymying any attempts for the Minister to get any real information while remaining polite, and if he continued to push he was going to be the one who would appear rude.

"And you'll be attending Hogwarts with Scion Malfoy?"

"I will," she gazed up at Draco with a smile. "I'm very excited to see this school that Draco has told me so much about, it sounds beautiful."

"Oh excellent, excellent!" He actually clapped his hands together in excitement. "I assure you, Hogwarts is magnificent, I'm certain that you'll love it! My former Undersecretary is Headmistress there now. She's around here somewhere, I'll get you an introduction." He made a big show of looking around and finally sighed. "Pity, I don't see her. Oh well. I'll tell her to keep an eye out for you. As Scion Malfoy knows, you can always go to her if you need anything."

Draco could almost see Hermione battling with herself (she might have hated Delores Umbridge more than she hated the Dark Lord) but in the end her determined nature won out and she just smiled at him stoically. "Thank you, that's very kind of you Mr. Minister.

To give the man credit he seemed to realize that his time was up, any longer and it would look like he was trying to monopolize them, and looked around again. "Well it was very nice to see you all again, but I must make my rounds. Duty calls. It was especially lovely to meet you Miss Garnier."

"You as well Mr. Minister," she said as Draco, Lucius, and Narcissa also called out their own farewells.

"This thing is a nightmare," complained Draco, holding Hermione close as he eyed Sirius and Harry happily getting drunk in a corner enviously. Sometimes he wished he was a less responsible son.

"It could be worse, believe me. The Parkinsons' events, now those are nightmares. Posey Parkinson obviously believes that more is more," said his father.

Narcissa pinched his arm. "Don't tell them that."

He just smiled at her fondly and then looked back at Draco. "Take your witch for a dance or I'm going to steal her for myself."

Draco instantly felt like a fool as he led Hermione onto the dance floor. He'd been too involved with his irritation at the entire event to enjoy the fact that, for the very first time he was openly holding Hermione on his arm.

"Draco," she whispered as they danced.

"Yeah?" He asked.

"Are you looking down my dress? Because my eyes are up here," and when he looked up her eyes were dangerously amused, but not offended.

So Draco took a chance. He leaned in: "Are you honestly upset? Because I thought you made it perfectly clear what you wanted to happen later, so I'll be seeing a lot more of you than just your decolletage, and I don't think it's unreasonable to admire you, my Mia, is it?"

She smiled at him. "I swear, only a Malfoy man would use the word 'decolletage' in everyday conversation."

"I could be cruder."

"No thank you," she snorted. "And you're free to look your fill but maybe try to be a little less obvious about it. Betrothed or not, I'm pretty sure staring at my breasts in public is considered gauche."

"You know, it's ironic, I was so anxious to be able to be seen in public with you, but now I feel that I resent all of these bastards for taking any of your attention. I just want to keep you all to myself."

She laughed and shifted her hold on him so that she could play with the hair at the nape of his neck. "And I'm sure that doesn't have anything to do with what I've promised you later?"

"Oh, it has a lot to do with that," he placed his forehead against hers and resisted the urge to kiss her, that just wasn't done. He lowered his voice. "I'm not at all ashamed of how anxious I am to get to make love to you."

She smiled at him and nodded. "Good."

When it was finally late enough so that it wasn't rude to leave the party, Draco practically pulled Hermione out of the floo when they arrived home and rushed her towards their wing, calling out a 'good night' to his parents over his shoulder.

"Draco," she laughed, "I know we've basically been given permission and your parents are at least aware that we share a bed, but do you think you could try to be a little discreet?"

"Sorry, love," he smiled down at her, slowing his gait slightly so that she only had to trot to keep up rather than run.

When they finally reached their bedroom Draco stopped at the end of the bed and turned to look at her. He ran a hand through his hair. "I've been in such a rush to get here, but now that we are it occurs to me that I might not be any good at this and I find that I'm rather nervous."

She took his face in her hands. "You'll be wonderful," she said with total confidence.

He pulled a face. "I think I'm pretty much guaranteed to enjoy this, but it's my understanding that's not true for you."

"It might take some figuring out, but we will figure it out. I don't have any grand expectations for tonight. I just know that my body, my mind, my magic, my heart, my very soul yearns for you and I just want to be with you. I want to be one with you as much as we ever can."

Draco's breath caught. He yanked her into his arms and slanted his mouth over hers, it was the only way he knew how to respond to such a statement which perfectly articulated how he was feeling. Sure, he was a teenage boy and therefore very, very interested in getting to have sex. But it was also so much more than that.

They undressed each other slowly and with reverence. And then they figured it out, together.

0000000000

Hermione had just portkeyed back to the Manor. She was returning from Sunday brunch and an afternoon spent with her parents and was immediately startled. Now that she'd moved in, her portkey had been refined to bring her to the entrance to their wing so that she didn't have to walk through the public parts of the house every time. But she had gotten used to that by now.

What caught her attention was the yelling - no - the agonized screaming coming from the general direction of the family room of their wing. She didn't think, she just took off at a sprint, because even though she'd - thankfully - never heard him scream like this before, she knew that voice.

She entered the large living space which had become special to her, as it was the space in which she spent a lot of time with her new family in what she considered to be her and Draco's home, when she saw her betrothed on the floor, his back arched and writhing like he was a victim of demonic possession. The sight, the sound, of him in that position nearly gutted her. Except Hermione quickly spotted the source of his agony: his notorious aunt was unmistakable, standing over him, casting the curse she was infamous for, over and over again, on her own nephew and cackling about how he was too coddled and needed to be taught a lesson.

It would have seemed ridiculous if it hadn't been so horrifying. Bellatrix looked like a comic book villain; dirty and unhinged, even after months out of Azkaban, but she radiated power, and malice, and Hermione knew that she was not to be underestimated.

Still, Hermione didn't think before she threw herself between Draco and the next casting of the curse, and for several long seconds...or perhaps it was hours, all she knew was agony. Her only comfort was that she knew that she'd prevented this from happening to Draco another time.

Bellatrix paused as if she couldn't understand what had just happened. It was just long enough for Hermione to call for Evie. She was unable to get an order out of her mouth and when she popped away again just seconds after arriving Hermione could only hope she'd gone for help.

Hermione woke, shaking, feeling like she was repeatedly falling from a great height and freezing to death at the same time.

"Easy love, it's worse if you fight it."

There was a familiar weight in her hand and then an equally familiar scent washed over her as the person kissed her forehead: Lucius. Her body automatically relaxed.

"That's it sweet girl," he cooed, and now she realized that he was holding her hand, stroking it, and that there was a warm, hard body curled around her. "Draco?" She asked.

"He'll be okay. He's better with you here, just relax."

She took a deep breath, but she couldn't hold back a sob as the pain lanced through her body, she squeezed Lucius' hand. "Father, it hurts."

He squeezed back, and then let out what sounded like his own sob, and Hermione was sure she heard Narcissa gasp as well. "I know, I'm so sorry this happened, and here of all places where you should be safe.

"S'not your fault."

"No, I bear at least some responsibility here," he countered. "I foolishly didn't limit Bellatrix's access to the Manor, I thought it would look suspicious. I'm fairly certain you saved our House today at your own expense."

"My House too," she murmured. "And if anything happened to Draco it would kill me too. I did the only thing I could."

Lucius sighed. "Bellatrix obviously can't be trusted to behave at all reasonably. I will adjust the wards to limit her to the public areas of the house."

"No," snapped Narcissa, "you will shut them down to her completely. She shouldn't just be waltzing into our home whenever she likes. I will not have Draco tiptoeing around here afraid that there could be a monster around any corner."

"The Dark Lord won't like it Narcissa, you know how he indulges Bellatrix and I have a difficult enough time getting him to keep her on a leash so that she won't go out and just start attacking random muggles."

The mood in the room became so frigid that Hermione tried to snuggle back against Draco again, despite the fact that she really couldn't get any closer to him.

"I don't care if the Dark Lord likes it or not."

"Narcissa —"

"No," she snapped, "you shall do what's best for our son. Or do you honestly not understand that we nearly lost him last night?! At the very least, we owe his sanity to Hermione! No more games Lucius. It's time to start putting your food down and cashing in the rewards you should have more than earned from the Dark Lord. Our home is our own. Bellatrix can send an owl when she intends to visit and you can give her temporary access, just like every other pureblood of our generation was taught to do. Point that out to enough people and the Dark Lord will have no choice but to acquiesce. I imagine her very existence in your ranks is enough to ruffle more than a few feathers and for her to expect to be allowed to flaunt propriety in such a way will not be tolerated for long amongst them. She cannot expect unfettered access to the ancestral home of an ancient and noble house, when she isn't a member, even if she is my sister."

Hermione's eyelids were heavy, but she managed to force them open and look at the two people that she considered to be second parents.

She swallowed and tried to find her voice. "That'll do in the short term. But she needs to be taken out." She licked her dry lips and cleared her throat "I'm sorry Narcissa, I know she's my sister but she was unrelenting and I just — Draco will never be safe while she's alive."

Narcissa just shook her head. "That woman is not my sister, not anymore." Her voice became very cold. "She was a dead woman the moment she turned her wand on my son."

Lucius sighed and wiped his free hand down his face. He looked exhausted. "You're correct. I'll find a way to have it accomplished, but I will need some time."

"No," Hermione hissed, "at least not without me."

Narcissa smiled at him, it would have been rather terrifying to Hermione if it had been turned in her direction. "I think, my darling, that this is a matter best left to the Malfoy women."

Lucius wisely didn't protest.

0000000000

Hermione had never met the Dark Lord, for which she was infinitely grateful. She was more grateful that he'd never sent for Draco. If he had, Hermione wasn't certain she wouldn't have abandoned all their plans, grabbed her betrothed, and fled the country. She'd been very close to doing so after Bellatrix had attacked him.

He was the one who had eventually talked her down, pointing out that he had recovered perfectly and he would stay more aware in the future and that if she wanted to leave for his sake that it was his turn to put his foot down.

She really should have fallen in love with a less intelligent man.

But she thought she might have been more terrified by the idea of tea with Bellatrix Lestrange. Her fear of the Dark Lord was a far off, nebulous thing, but she'd seen the monster that Bellatrix was up close.

And now they were having tea.

Tea.

As if they were a normal family. But as that's exactly what they were parading as, for the Dark Lord's sake, that's what they had to pretend to be.

Now that Hermione had been out in society as Draco's betrothed, Narcissa's mother had announced her intention to visit and give her official approval of the girl. The details of her last visit had been altered with a memory charm and she now believed that the girl she'd met that Christmas a year and a half ago had been Mia Garnier all along - as she clearly couldn't be trusted with the truth.

Lucius grumbled for weeks about her impending arrival as her approval of Draco's betrothal was completely irrelevant, she was merely being self-important acting like it was necessary. But he couldn't stop her from entering the country, he could, however, stop her from staying in the Manor. So she was staying with her eldest daughter in the newly reopened Lestrange Keep (the goblins truly had no scruples when it came to the affairs of wizards) but it would be too strange if they didn't even allow her to visit. Draco was strangely silent on the issue.

So the ladies were having tea: herself, Narcissa, Druella, and Bellatrix. They gave the term 'dysfunctional family' new meaning.

She stood, waiting to greet their guests, as if one of them hadn't attempted to poison her and the other hadn't brutally tortured the love of her life on a whim. As if Bellatrix hadn't used that curse on Hermione herself when she'd gotten in the way. As if Hermione wasn't plotting her murder at that very moment.

But Hermione had been taught better than to let any of those feelings show, and from the Lady of the Manor herself.

When the two tall blondes entered the sitting room followed by the equally tall brunette Hermione's heart broke for Narcissa. To anybody else her face would have looked totally blank, but Hermione could see how much this pained her.

They made their way over to Hermione. "Mia," Narcissa spoke, "you remember my mother, Druella Black."

"Of course, it's lovely to see you again, Mrs. Black." She offered the other witch her hand, she took it in a loose grip.

"Charmed, I'm sure." The other woman sounded anything but charmed.

"And you haven't been properly introduced to my sister," she said with an edge to her voice and Hermione focused her attention on Bellatrix. The view she had gotten of the other witch a few weeks ago had been horrendous, but Hermione had been too focused on the way she was cursing Draco to pay too much attention to the woman herself. But now that she was free to absorb the details she was even more appalled.

Still, she remembered her manners, what was expected of her and the reason that she and Draco had remained in Britain; she extended her hands to a woman she knew whom, under any other circumstances, Narcissa would have never allowed into their home. It wasn't just her treatment of Draco, but she was disheveled; more than that, she was filthy. She'd had more than enough time since her escape from Azkaban to work on her personal hygiene.

Hermione got the distinct impression that she just didn't care.

Narcissa introduced them, formally, (being introduced to the woman who once casually tortured your betrothed in front of you and then, just as casually, let the curse wash over you, was a lesson in surrealism.)

Hermione grasped the other witch's hand. She was proud of herself for suppressing a gag at the woman's stench and barely resisted the urge to wipe her hand on her robes. She knew it must have been killing Narcissa to allow her into her pristine sitting room.

"Well Mother, what do you think? Will she do?" Bellatrix asked, looking her up and down after they were seated.

Druella sniffed. "She's grown up prettier than I remember her being. Nothing extraordinary, of course, but Narcissa assures me that her pedigree and training are pristine, so if she is Draco's choice I can have no objections."

"Mother," Narcissa hissed, "Lucius has already forbidden you from staying in our home for being rude to his mother. Don't test him further by speaking that way about a witch he already considers to be the daughter we weren't lucky enough to have."

Hermione felt a well of pride bubble up inside of her at Narcissa's fortitude and she sat up a little straighter.

"That boy has never known his place. And what good are daughters anyway?"

It was all Hermione could do to keep her mouth from dropping open in shock.

"My husband is not a boy and you would do well to treat him with at least a modicum of respect unless you want to see your allowance cut off. He is not required to provide for you!" There was a beat of silence and Narcissa also sat up a little straighter. "Furthermore, some of us wished for children just for the privilege of having children. I very much desired a daughter."

Hermione wasn't sure if she should jump in and try to find some way to salvage this situation- though she had absolutely no idea what that might be, when Bellatrix started cackling. Hermione startled slightly in her seat at the sound.

"You always were a little mother, Cissy. However, I for one hope to share your good luck and get a boy on the first try. I don't have any use for daughters either."

Hermione froze and her eyes flew to Narcissa's. She carefully set her tea cup down and looked at her sister. "Oh? Are you and Rodolphus planning for a family?"

"Rodolphus?" She wrinkled her nose almost comically. "Please, that man couldn't get it up for me even if he was inclined to try, and I'm not planning on letting him anywhere near me anyway. No. I have been chosen to bear the Dark Lord's heir."

It was like all the air had been sucked from the room. Hermione almost forgot herself and reached for Narcissa.

"You are planning to have a bastard child?" Narcissa asked.

"The Dark Lord's child." She clarified. "There can be no greater honor," she bragged, "and I assure you, Rodolphus is fine with it."

"Mother," Narcissa said, "how do you feel about this?"

"Your sister does her duty. If this is what her husband wishes, who am I to intervene?"

Hermione shivered. Had she been cursed? Or was this just another sign that she was not simply rude, but shared at least a touch of Bellatrix's madness? Because Hermione knew that during the first war Druella had been vehemently opposed to the idea of her daughter as a Death Eater, had deemed it 'unlady-like.' And now she was giving her tacit permission to bear the man - a half-blood's - child?

Hermione was proud of herself for getting through the rest of their tea without completely giving up the game. Bellatrix sat there, slopping tea all over the furnishings, being careless with the china, and generally being rude, entitled, and offensive. But Hermione had overlooked worse.

She regularly had racial slurs thrown at her within her own boarding school. But the idea of this woman and the Dark Lord producing a child was almost too much.

When Narcissa returned from seeing them out she was visibly shaking.

Hermione poured her a cup of tea from a new, fresh pot. "Narcissa, we can't let that happen. It's not just the idea of two of them raising a child. But...would it even be human?"

"I don't know. And I agree with you. There are ways to render a woman infertile, of course, they're dark but I'm not bothered by that at this point. However, I think they could be detected and as she's just openly confessed to us their plans, we would be suspected."

"Mother," she said quietly and gently reached across the table to take her hand. "Perhaps magic isn't the answer."

Narcissa looked at her, a question in her eyes.

"I think we need to consult with my parents."

Author's Note: (Sick of me yet?) I had several people message me about one issue so I thought I would answer here, because if several of you asked, I assume more than that were confused. The charm Hermione wears on her bracelet does not change her physical appearance in any way. What it does is trick the brains of the people looking at her to keep them from identifying her as Hermione Granger, they simply believe whatever they are told about her identity. The exceptions to that are the people "keyed into" the enchantment. When Draco commented in the last chapter that she still looked beautiful as ever he just meant that he was relieved to be able to recognize her. Make sense?

I've enjoyed spending this month concentrating on this fic. I hope to keep up the pace, but again, can make no promises. Thanks to Weestarmeggie, my wonderful alpha/beta, transcontinental quarantine buddy, I love you. Stay safe out there, and thanks for reading!