CW: As with the last one, there's a bit of blood and gore below. And while we're at it, let's just apply this warning to the next couple chapters as well.

Songs - Bottle Tops by RITUAL and Mononoke, You Are The Reason by Klasey Jones, and I Found by Amber Run

Chapter 25: Inheritance

A pair of warm brown eyes were hovering over her. A voice was promising her that she was going to be alright. She didn't know if they belonged to the same person. Or if she was imagining it all. It certainly felt like a dream.

She was trying to fight the heaviness in her eyes, to wake up from whatever nightmare she had fallen into, but she was so tired. Too tired.

And was that pain real or was she imagining that too?

Someone was calling to her, someone who sounded far away. They were frantic. She tried to call back, but the room around her was spinning, and she couldn't focus. Help, she wanted to say but couldn't find the strength to open her mouth.

She blinked, rolling her head to side as she reached her hand out, her fingers grasping wildly in the air until a warm hand moved around them.

I've got you, she thought she heard someone say.

It wasn't the voice she wanted. It didn't belong to the person she needed, but she couldn't speak; she could barely think. The pain was too much, consuming every inch of her body. And it was only then that she realized she was screaming.

When had she started screaming?

She felt frozen, completely unable to control anything happening to her, and it was unsettling. She needed to know what was going on. She needed to know what was happening to her. She needed…

But a strange calm washed over her as she heard a sharp cry.

And then another one.

She smiled, even though she didn't quite understand why.

Hermione, no!

And then there was only darkness.

Draco didn't even bother bracing for the impact as the portkey spit them out. When they landed, his legs gave way underneath him, and he carelessly dropped his wand as he fell to the ground. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a silent inventory of the parts of his body now screaming in pain as he sat bent forward over his knees. He took note of every single grisly laceration, every broken bone, almost relishing in how they burned through his nervous system, but he really didn't give a damn about his bodily injuries. They were minuscule compared to how it felt knowing that he was now responsible for the death of someone he loved.

He threw a fist angrily into the floor below him, the force of the impact triggering the tell-tale snaps of bones being broken, but he didn't even flinch.

"Draco," he heard someone say. He didn't care who said it. He wanted to tell them to fuck off.

It was supposed to be him. It wasn't supposed to be anyone but him. They had all refused to listen. And now Theo…

"Draco," he heard again, this time lifting his head and catching Harry walking toward him somewhat hesitantly.

"Don't," he growled angrily, his eyes dark with grief and rage. "Don't fucking tell me it had to be done."

Harry pursed his lips together and looked over at Lucius, who was slumped against the wall on the other side of the room, his porcelain skin barely visible below the muddled mess of mud and blood that was covering most of his body.

"He would have killed you," Harry said quietly, his voice barely audible over the sounds of the blood dripping to the ground next to him from the wound he had yet to heal on his hand. "Theo made me–"

"I don't care what Theo made you promise," Draco snapped, pausing to wipe the blood away from the side of his mouth. "We left him to die. How can you fucking live with that?"

Harry didn't respond, not because he didn't want to but because he didn't trust his voice to hold if he did. He knew very well what fate Theo likely faced, and the mere thought of what he would likely have to endure made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

"He'll torture him. And then he'll kill him," Draco hissed, filling the silence. "I could have saved him," he added, choking back a sob. "Why didn't you let me save him?"

"Son," Lucius said, speaking for the first time, his voice coming in between ragged breaths as he attempted to push himself upright. "Theo knew the risks. We all did," he paused, his eyes flickering over to Harry. "There was nothing else we could do."

"We could have gone after him," Draco said, now glaring at his father. "We could have done something… anything."

It's all my fault, he thought.

"Draco," Lucius began again, "We couldn't risk losing you too." He stopped, wishing he could find the words to comfort him, to make him understand just how miraculous it was that any of them, especially Draco, had gotten away at all. "Hermione needs you. We should go to her now," he finished softly, hoping it was enough to get Draco to remember why they had all risked their lives in the first place.

Draco closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "We won't be able to find them now," he said after a moment, trying to swallow the boiling hot anger and guilt still churning in his stomach.

"What do you mean 'won't be able to find them'?" Harry asked, confused, looking up from the wound on his hand that he had been trying to heal.

"I don't know where they are," Draco rephrased.

"I made the bloody portkey," Harry asserted, his voice anything but calm. "The place exists. Therefore, we can travel to it."

"They won't be there," Draco told him, finally grabbing his wand and pushing himself up onto his feet. "My mother– I instructed her to take Hermione somewhere else." He glanced at his father again, catching a slight upturn in the corner of his father's mouth.

"Well then why the fuck can't we go somewhere else?" Harry asked, his panic at not being able to locate his wife or best friend growing beyond his control and his wound now completely forgotten. "Where the fuck are they?"

Lucius nearly laughed, letting out a breathy sigh as he shook his head. "I knew she wasn't telling me something," he noted, not even attempting to hide the amusement in his voice. "That woman is sly."

Harry looked between father and son, his fists curled into tight balls at his side. "Who?" he queried, exacerbated. "Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?"

"It appears that Draco only trusted one person with Hermione's final location," Lucius explained, studying his son with a kind of admiration normally reserved for his prized peacock collection. "And he wasn't that person."

Harry brought a hand to his face and closed his eyes, breathing in and out slowly for a few moments to calm himself. "You don't know where they are," he said, opening his eyes to look over at his friend.

Draco nodded, his mouth twisted into an uncomfortable frown. "I couldn't take the chance," he said, looking at Harry apologetically. "I knew that if one of us got caught–" he swallowed heavily as Theo's eyes flashed behind his eyes "–if one of us got caught the information could be tortured out of us. Only my mother knew where they were going."

Harry sucked in a breath and blew it out roughly. "Are they safe?" he asked finally, struggling to get a hold of himself. "Can they be found?"

"They're as safe as they can be," Draco replied, giving him the only promise that he knew he could. "For now," he added, his voice cracking as the words left his mouth.

His mother wouldn't have taken the task lightly. She certainly wouldn't have planned to send Draco anywhere he could have been easily discovered during the war, and so he at least had faith that wherever the women were, it wouldn't be easy to find. But nothing the attacker had done so far had been predictable (or normal), and so there was no telling how safe Hermione or any of the women really were.

"We need to find them," Harry said simply, his thoughts clearly aligned with Draco's.

"I don't know if we can," Draco replied sadly, shaking his head as the words left his mouth. "If the place is as well-hidden as I think it is–"

"We have to try," Harry replied quickly, cutting Draco off. "That fucker…" His words trailed off as images from the battle swirled around in his head.

"I've never seen anything quite like it," Lucius admitted. And coming from him, that meant something. "I agree with Potter," he continued, tilting his head toward his former enemy. "We can't just sit here and hope they won't be found."

Draco sighed. It wasn't that he didn't agree with them – he wholeheartedly did – it was that he didn't even know where to begin. He had purposefully refused to talk to his mother about her plans, and she, knowing how important it was that he not know, hadn't told him anything except to assure him that Hermione would be safe.

"Did mother ever tell you about a place she had been, somewhere she would have gone to be alone?" Draco asked his father, knowing how unlikely it was that she had.

Lucius shook his head. "Narcissa and I didn't keep much from each other," he replied, grimacing as he dropped his body down into one of the rickety wooden chairs in the corner of the room, "but she certainly had her secrets, and I doubt she would have taken Hermione somewhere that I knew about."

Draco nodded briskly in understanding. He had expected as much.

"We can't risk sending a Patronus. Ours are too recognizable," he said, gesturing between Harry and himself before pausing to crudely heal the cut still bleeding near his hairline. "An owl would be too dangerous, especially if the place is hidden with magic."

"Nothing on them is trackable either," Lucius added, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. "I normally insist that Narcissa keep something on her that would allow me to find her in an emergency, but–"

"The bond!" Harry said suddenly, looking frantically at Draco. "Can you still contact Hermione through your bond?"

Draco paled. He had tried so hard to ignore the emotions emanating from Hermione during the battle that he hadn't even recognized their absence when he had landed in the safe house. How could he have forgotten about that goddamn bond?

Fuck, he thought. Why can't I feel anything now?

Panicked, he threw himself at the barrier in the back of his mind, desperately hoping that the absence of her emotions simply meant either that she had calmed down enough to keep from spilling into his mind or that they were far enough a part that their connection had dulled. Unfortunately, what he found – or rather, what he didn't – nearly stopped his heart.

He let out a strangled cry, his thoughts screaming for her as he waded through the darkness on the other side of their bond searching for anything that would let him know that she was still alive. But there was nothing but bone chilling stillness.

Hermione!

He was frantic. Why couldn't he feel her thoughts? Why couldn't she hear him calling to her?

Hermione, please, it's me.

Nothing.

And then, just when he was about to succumb to the panic threatening to consume him, a face appeared. It was familiar and yet… but it was gone before he could place it.

"Draco," he heard Harry say. "What's wrong?"

Hermione, he tried calling again. But still, she didn't answer. No. NO!

He saw the face again, and the image stayed long enough for him to realize who he was looking at.

"Harry," he said, speaking quickly as he tried to keep the bile from spilling out of the back of his throat, "we need to get to Andromeda's. Now."

"Had enough yet?" the man asked, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

Theo spat, watching with heavy eyes as blood splashed onto the ground in front of him. "Is that really the best you've got?" he goaded dangerously.

Anger flashed in the man's eyes, but he didn't move. "Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?" he asked, resisting the urge to retaliate.

"Every day," Theo replied almost casually, meeting the man's icy gaze with surprising ease.

"You aren't scared," the man observed curiously. "Why is that?"

Theo snorted. "What? You want to know my whole life story?" he retorted, strangely unperturbed by the amount of blood falling down the side of his face. "Kind of difficult to scare someone with torture when their own childhood was exactly that."

"No," the man said, squatting so he could study Theo more directly. "That's not it."

The man's gaze was certainly unsettling, especially up close, but there was something there, a hint of uncertainly and terror perhaps, which Theo might have found quite useful if he wasn't chained up against a bloody wall.

"What are you, my shrink?" Theo quipped, shivering slightly as his body fought to keep itself warm.

The man laughed. "You know," he began, turning his head slightly to the side as he threw a finger under Theo's chin to lift his head. "In any other circumstance, I might have found you quite charming. It's a pity really that I have to kill you."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Have my manners been lacking?" Theo said, rolling his eyes despite the sharp pain in the back of his head. "My deepest apologies."

The man laughed again, moving his hand away from Theo's face. "On second thought, I think I will enjoy killing you."

"You've already searched my memories," Theo reminded him, tired of whatever game the man was trying to play with him. "I don't know where she is. So just fucking get on with it."

The man stood up silently, wiping his hands on his robes as he turned to face the wall. "Perhaps you're right," he conceded, picking something off the table next to him. "But first, I think I'll use you to send a message."

Theo's eyes widened when the man turned around, the dull light flickering off the metal in his hands. Fuck.

"Scared now?" the man asked, smiling diabolically.

Draco and Harry landed in a familiar living room, their wands already raised in front of them. They hadn't wanted to leave Lucius behind, but when it became obvious that his injuries were more serious than any one of them had realized, they made the quick decision to leave him at the old house, promising to come back for him as soon as they could.

"I'll be fine," Lucius had said, waving a hand in the air.

"But–" Draco had begun, torn between the guilt of leaving someone else behind and finding Hermione.

"Just go," his father had insisted. "You're wasting time."

And so it was just the two of them.

"Did you see where she was?" Harry asked quietly, positioning himself so that their backs were facing each other as they canvassed the room.

Draco shook his head. "I just saw her face," he replied quickly, his eyes nervously scanning the space in front of him. It was empty, but he could see a small figure flying around on a broom outside.

Teddy, he realized. She can't be far if he's here.

"Teddy's outside," Draco added quietly, glancing over his shoulder.

Harry tensed slightly but nodded and tipped his head to his right, motioning for Draco to follow him toward the kitchen. As much as he wanted to rush out to his godson, he knew it wasn't the time.

They moved quietly across the room, carefully avoiding the Legos and other small toys strewn about the floor, but it was the creaky floorboard next to the couch that were their undoing.

"Who's there!?" a voice called before they managed to make it past the fireplace.

"Molly?" Harry said, dropping his wand. He didn't even pause before rushing the rest of the way into the kitchen.

"Molly, what are–"

"Oh, Harry! Thank goodness you're alright," she nearly shouted, rushing to suffocate him in a hug. "Arthur just owled and said the Manor had been attacked. They weren't sure if anyone had managed to escape," she paused, inhaling sharply when she noticed a battle-worn Draco hesitating near the doorway. "What happened?"

"We don't have time to explain," Harry began, lifting a still bloodied hand in the air. "Molly, where is Dromeda?"

Molly looked back at Harry, her brows furrowed in concern over the state of the two men. "I don't know," she admitted after a moment. "She called me through the Floo about an hour ago and asked if I could come watch Teddy. She said it was an emergency," she paused, glancing at Draco again as he swore under his breath. "She didn't tell me where she was going."

"What kind of emergency?" Draco whispered not entirely sure he was ready for that answer.

"She didn't say, but I could tell it wasn't good," Molly replied, looking between the two men again. "What's happened? Are Ginny and Hermione alright?"

Draco fell back against the wall, his hand clutching his chest as a sob escaped his lips.

"Draco," Harry began, ignoring Mrs. Weasley's questions as he hurried to his friend's side. "What else did you see when you looked through the bond?"

Draco shook his head, his pupils blown wide with panic. "Nothing," he said, whimpering now. "I only saw Dromeda… and then I couldn't see anything at all."

Harry swallowed heavily. Shit.

"Molly," Harry said quickly without turning away from Draco. "Take Teddy to the Burrow. Send an owl to Kingsley and tell him to get everyone away from the Manor. It's not safe."

Molly nodded. She hadn't lived through two wars without learning a thing or two about knowing when to just shut up and listen, and she could tell by Harry's tone that now wasn't the time for questions – she would do as he asked and quickly.

She was reaching for her wand when a crack suddenly echoed from somewhere upstairs causing her to jump in surprise.

"Do you know who that is?" Harry asked, whipping his head around.

Molly quickly shook her head, her fingers trembling around the end of her wand.

"Go now before Teddy comes back inside," Harry said firmly, raising his wand as he eyes bore into the ceiling above.

Molly nodded her understanding, pausing only to squeeze Harry's free hand before hurrying out the back door.

"The sound came from the bathroom," Harry said, resisting the urge to turn and watch until Teddy and Molly were safely away. Instead, he turned to face Draco, who despite his panic, had managed to pull himself away from the wall, his eyes darting around as if he expected someone to appear in front of them at any moment.

"I'll go," Draco said reflexively, but Harry was already shaking his head.

"If it's him, he'll use you to get to her," he said, giving little thought as to what would happen to him if it was the man who had attacked them earlier.

"I am not doing this again," Draco growled, attempting to push his friend aside. "I will not let another one of you die."

"This not up for debate," Harry replied impatiently, locking his arms out against Draco's body. "Let me go."

There was an almost murderous glint in Harry's eyes, and Draco only had to stare at him for a brief moment before accepting that this wasn't an argument he could win. At least not quickly, and they couldn't afford to waste any more time. "You have thirty seconds, Potter," he told him, reluctantly dropping his arms and stepping out of Harry's way. "That's it."

Harry mouthed his thanks and turned to ascend the stairs behind him, careful to avoid the creaky step at the top of the stairs that had been the bane of his existence when Teddy had been little. He moved quickly down the hallway, and when he made it to the bathroom, he paused, somewhat puzzled by the sounds emanating from behind the door. It sounded like someone was... pulling things off the shelves? Shaking his head, he kicked open the door, sucking in a breath when his eyes landed on someone he was sure should be somewhere else.

"Narcissa?"

The witch jumped, nearly dropping the vials that were piled in her arms. "Harry!" she exclaimed when she realized who it was, "How did you– what are you doing here?"

"Draco saw–" but he stopped when he noticed all of the blood. "Are you hurt?" he asked, taking a step toward her, his arm outstretched as if he he meant to heal her.

Narcissa followed his gaze to her blood-stained gown and quickly shook her head. "It's Hermione," she told him, knowing she didn't have the privilege of time to be delicate. "She went into labor. It's not– she's dying. I need to get these to my sister."

Harry blinked. "Dying?"

Fuck.

"What about Hermione?" came a raspy voice from the doorway.

"Draco!" Narcissa nearly shouted, the relief obvious in her voice as her son moved into the room.

"What happened to Hermione, mother?" Draco demanded, not even bothering to fight the tremble in his voice. "And don't lie to me. Is she dead?"

"No," Narcissa replied, her voice so quiet it was almost a whisper, "but she will be if I don't get this to her."

She's alive.

"Take me," Draco said, stepping further into the room, his eyes pleading with her. "Please."

Narcissa glanced at Harry, who was similar dazed, before quickly conceding with a nod. There wasn't time to reason with either of them or explain; she'd just have to risk taking them with her. She finished emptying the cabinet next to her and threw the vials into one of her pockets before lifting her arms for both men to grab onto.

"Follow me," she said as Draco and Harry each intertwined a hand with one of her own.

Theo knew that the screams belonged to him. He knew the pool of blood on the ground belonged to him, or rather, it had. He knew he was in pain – more than he had ever endured at the hands of his father – but there wasn't much of a point in caring anymore. It would be over soon, and then nothing he knew would matter anymore.

It certainly wouldn't be a quick death. It would be painful and slow, and maybe he would even beg for the end before it was all over. But he wasn't scared. Not even a little bit. It was simply a relief to finally know how he would go.

The man, it seemed, had failed at least one thing tonight.

His head now hung helplessly against his chest, but he didn't bother attempting to lift it. There was nothing to see, no one to reach out to. They weren't coming for him; he would have been angry if they did. There were things more important than him, more valuable than the pitiful life he had led, and he was simply content to retreat into the part of his brain where he could be surrounded by the few good memories that he possessed.

He never imagined that he'd have people to care about. He always thought he'd be alone. But then Draco had waltzed back into his life, dragging Hermione with him, and things had never been quite the same. He'd found a family of his own, even if only for a short time, and that was enough.

You fuckers better name him Theo, he thought, oddly comforted despite feeling the life slowly drain out of him. Or I'll haunt you for the rest of your perfect little lives.

Narcissa hadn't warned him when they landed in the small cottage, but Draco knew by how quickly she had dropped their hands and ran down the hallway that things were bad. He followed her, not even bothering to look around him, and when he turned the corner into the small room at the end of the hall, he nearly choked at what he found.

Hermione was sprawled unconscious on the bed, her curls draped almost angelically on the pillow behind her head, while Andromeda moved furiously around her, waving her wand so quickly that her hand seemed to melt into the air. If he hadn't looked away from Hermione's face, if he hadn't caught the sickening scent in the air, he might have thought she was simply sleeping, but he had. And there was so much blood – too much – and it took every ounce of his remaining strength to not crumple to the floor.

"I grabbed all of them," he heard his mother say, but he couldn't drag his eyes away from his wife.

She looked so… pale.

"Draco," Harry said softly, trying to pull his friend back into the hall with shaky hands, "you should wait outside."

"No," Draco replied, instead taking another step into the room, a floorboard creaking under his feet.

Andromeda turned her head at the noise and frowned at the sight of her nephew. "Narcissa," she said, her eyes flickering back to her sister. "Take him outside. I need to–"

"I'm not leaving her," he said quietly, not bothering to let her finish.

But she wasn't listening. She had already turned back around, her fingers fumbling through the pile of vials now sitting on the end of the bed.

"Draco," Harry said again, yanking him backward. "Dromeda will take care of her."

"I can't leave her," he repeated stumbling as he tried to wiggle out of Harry's grasp. "I can't leave her like this."

"Draco," Narcissa said, moving so that she was blocking his view of the room. "Dromeda needs to focus, and you need to see–"

But a small cry from somewhere outside interrupted her.

"What was that?" Draco asked, his heart not quite able to believe what his brain was telling him.

Narcissa looked at him with tears in her eyes. How could she possibly tell him something so wonderful when something so terrible was causing him to fall apart in front of her? But she had to tell him. He needed to know. "Your son," she said finally.

The color drained from his face. "My... son?"

"Ginny has him outside," Narcissa explained, her eyes flickering to Harry who was similarly stunned by the news. "We will take care of her," she added, gesturing toward Hermione as Andromeda began to mutter a new series of incantations. "Right now, your child needs you."

But Draco gently pushed his mother aside so that he could see Hermione again. He couldn't leave her. He wasn't sure that he had the strength to walk away from her knowing that he may never get to see her alive again.

"Draco," Narcissa began again, placing a hand on his shoulder as if she could read his mind, "go to your son."

Son.

It was such a simple word, and yet, hearing it again was enough to pull him back to reality, and he nodded slowly.

"If you can't– if there's nothing you can do, I need to– I need to say goodbye," Draco muttered, his bottom lip trembling as she spoke.

"I will call for you," Narcissa promised him.

Reluctantly, Draco backed out of the room, only tearing his eyes away from Hermione when he heard another small cry. And before he could comprehend what he was doing, he was running, his heart beating furiously as he tore through the small kitchen and threw open the back door.

He could see Ginny standing a few yards away, her head bent over something in her arms, and in an attempt not to startle her, he slowed his movements somewhat as he approached.

"Ginny?" he called when he was only a few paces away, his voice so quiet that he was sure she hadn't heard him.

But she did, and when she turned, she gasped audibly in surprise.

"Oh, thank Merlin," she said, her eyes flickering between Draco and the figure that had followed him outside.

Draco took another few steps, closing the remaining distance between them, his eyes locked on the small bundle that Ginny was holding tightly in her arms.

"It's a boy," Ginny said, smiling as she followed Draco's gaze. "Here," she continued, a tear falling down the side of her face as she motioned for Draco to take his son from her. "He's beautiful."

"Beautiful," Draco repeated absently as he positioned the swaddled infant in his arms. He watched in awe as his son scrunched up his face, seemingly upset at the sudden change in environment, before yawning and quickly relaxing into the new warmth.

My son. Our son.

Draco was entranced. He brushed a hand over his baby's head, his fingers tingling as they moved over the few strands of soft platinum blonde hair.

"Beautiful, just like his mother," he murmured, unable to look away.

Ginny moved next to Harry, wrapping a hand around his as she wiped at her eyes with the other. "He's a fighter," she announced, as enthralled with watching Draco with his son as she had been when Harry had held their children for the first time. "He came out kicking and screaming," she explained, torn between wonder at the child's birth and horror at Hermione's condition. "Dromeda was surprised he was able to breath on his own, but she couldn't find anything wrong with him, so she had me take him away from the madness inside."

"He's so small," Draco muttered, his heart swelling as a small fist suddenly clamped down on his finger.

"But he's strong," Ginny assured him. "I guess he just decided that he was grown enough to finally make his grand entrance."

Draco's heart was still beating furiously as he watched his son fall back to sleep in his arms. His cheeks were perfectly round and rosy, just like his mother's, but his mouth was closed in the type of natural smirk that couldn't belong to anyone but a Malfoy. It was everything, being able to hold him in his arms, and yet...

"Will she survive?" Draco asked suddenly, looking over at Ginny with tears in his eyes. "I can't-"

Ginny swallowed heavily. She didn't have the words to tell him that she didn't know, that she had been praying to every god she'd ever heard of since she had found her bloodied on the ground.

"That little guy didn't just get his fight from you," Harry said, smiling as Draco's panicked eyes landed on him. "She's a fighter too."

"She is," Draco agreed, surprised at the ease he believed the words.

So, fight, he projected into their bond. Fight for our son.

She wasn't sure how or when the blackness had lessened, but slowly her senses returned.

At first, there were only sounds. Whispers she couldn't make out. The shuffling of feet against the ground. The clinking of vials as they were rearranged. People talking somewhere outside the room. A baby crying. A voice telling her to fight.

Touch came next. Warm hands encasing her own. Soft fingers in her hair. A small hand on the side of her face. A familiar brush against her lips.

Then there were the images. Andromeda hovering over her. Narcissa pacing in the corner. Draco holding something in his arms as he cried beside the bed. Harry and Ginny standing in the doorway. Lucius being led to at the end of her bed, his face gruesomely bruised.

But she was still frozen, stuck in whatever prison she had retreated into to survive, and she couldn't puzzle her way out.

After a while – or had it only been a few hours, she really couldn't tell – she just accepted that this was how things would be. That she would just have to be content with the small moments of lucidity where she almost felt alive again. It would be enough, she thought, knowing that everyone else was alright.

And yet, there was something inside of her, an annoyingly persistent itch of sorts, screaming at her that it wasn't. It clawed at her bones, coaxing her out of submission until the wheels in her brain started churning again. Switches flipped on, and then, she overtaken by an electrical current, almost as if her entire body was being charged for some greater purpose.

She tried to open her eyes, but something stopped her. Something called to her, beckoning for her to open her mind a bit further, to dwell in the new sensations for a just a little bit longer, and so she waited. And then just when she was about to pull away, just when her impatience appeared to finally win the battle happening within, a light exploded behind her eyes, and she was flooded with memories that weren't her own.

A young girl was running through the woods, her curly hair flying wildly behind her as she moved. There was a bright light. And then then there was… knowledge. And power.

The young girl wasn't young anymore. Her face was a little more worn, a little more wrinkled, but her eyes still sparkled with the same curiosity she held as a young child. She was watching her child, smiling, as he danced in the rain.

The child was grown, pacing outside of a small hut. A cry filled the air, and he collapsed to the ground, a strange current running through his body. He awoke to an outstretched hand. It belonged to his mother. Her eyes were filled with understanding.

It was a small gathering of people both young and old. Wrinkled faces of those who'd held the power mingled with the faces of those they'd passed it along to and those who had yet to be touched by it. They were celebrating. Another birth was on the horizon. A new wielder would soon be joining the ranks.

The group grew, and soon, not every child was guaranteed membership in the ranks. Some lineages died off. Others persisted. But when the power passed, it was always the same. The birth of a worthy child was always both a beginning and an end.

Another gathering. Much time had passed. Much knowledge had been gained. But there was arguing. Some wanted to take their power to new lands. Others wanted to keep it close to home, where it was sacred. The meeting ended. The group was fractured. And the half that stayed was never quite the same.

More time passed. The group was now just three. Two women and one man. There were no children. There were no elders. It was just them. And then, quite suddenly there was only one.

Just one.

Hermione's eyes snapped open, and she inhaled so quickly that she nearly choked on the air flooding her lungs.

Every inch of her body was buzzing with a power she didn't recognize, and for a second, she could have sworn she could hear someone or something talking to her. But she brushed it to the side. The memories had shown her all she needed to know.

And then she heard the cry.

So, it's happened.

"Hello?" she croaked, pushing herself up onto her elbows. "Is anyone there?"

She didn't have to wait long for a response. The door to her room burst open, and there he was with his piercing eyes and stupidly perfect hair.

"Hermione," he said, his chest heaving as stared at her, his eyes studying her so intently that she couldn't help but blush.

"Draco," she whispered, scrambling to pull herself out of bed.

He was next to her before she could blink, wrapping his arms around her waist to keep her from falling to the floor.

"You're alive," she murmured, bringing a hand to the side of his face.

"So are you," he replied, smiling weakly as he leaned into her touch.

They stared at each other for a few moments, neither willing to admit the fates they had allowed themselves to imagine for one another. It was too gruesome to think about, let alone articulate, and so they remained silent, savoring the warmth of their bodies against each other. And then, because words would never be enough, they were kissing, their lips crashing together with such a force that it took their collective breaths away.

I love you, Hermione told him through their bond, her complete and utter infatuation with him flooding through the barrier.

I love you too, Draco replied, gasping into her mouth as her emotions encircled his own. It was almost too much, feeling everything that she felt about him, and if they weren't so familiar, he might have pulled away in shock. Instead, he deepened their kiss, pulling her closer to him until there wasn't any space left between them. He was never going to let her go again.

It was then he realized that he was hogging her attention, that there was someone else who needed her as much as he did. We have a son, he told her, projecting his memories of their child into her mind.

A small sob escaped Hermione's throat as she focused on an image of a small (and unsurprisingly blonde) baby asleep in Draco's arms.

He's perfect.

He is.

Hermione didn't want their kiss to end, she especially didn't want to stop watching the memories of their son, but the buzzing in her bones wouldn't let her forget. And Draco needed to know. She needed to tell him who she really was.

"I know what he wanted," Hermione told him, resting her forehead against Draco's as he buried his hands in her hair. "I know why he came for me."

She didn't need to specify who he was; Draco knew who she was talking about. What he didn't know, however, was how she could have possibly figured out why he had come for her. She'd been asleep, teetering on the edge of consciousness for nearly two days. How could she know?

"What–?" he began, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"It was my inheritance," Hermione interrupted, anticipating his question before he could finish it. "He wanted to stop my inheritance."

"I don't understand," Draco replied, pulling away slightly so he could look at her more closely. "What inheritance?"

Hermione closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "The Norse mages – my bloodline," she began, her voice shaking slightly as she spoke. "They weren't born with their power. They inherited it." She paused, opening her eyes again so she could watch Draco's response. "I thought most of what I was feeling the past few months – the headaches, the strange buzzing – were simply just normal side-effects of the pregnancy. But they weren't. My body was trying preparing me for something else. Something a bit more… powerful."

Hermione paused again, this time holding out her hand.

"The power of the Norse mages passes from parent to child when the child becomes a parent themselves. The man who attacked us – he wielded that power. But it doesn't belong to him anymore," she said, turning her fingers slightly until her entire hand was enveloped in a myriad of small, almost lightening-like electrical charges. "Now, it belongs to me."

"Fuck," Draco breathed, the light from the electricity dancing in his eyes. "Wait," he said, the entirety of Hermione's statement finally registering with him. "But that means…"

Hermione swallowed heavily. It was this revelation that hurt the most. "Yes," she said, her heart racing. "The man who is trying to kill me is my father."

a/n: I know I warned you that this one would take a bit of time (and I am sorry about that), but I really hope this ending made up for the wait! I can't say much about this strange turn of events without giving my whole plot line away, so I'll just ask everyone to leave their pitchforks at home until I post the next chapter.

Also, I do apologize for the lack of Hermione/baby material here. I tried to add it at the end, but it just didn't fit well. I promise you'll get plenty of it next week!

The reviews for the last chapter were amazing, and I love you all. Special shoutout to LiteraryRomantic (AO3) for guessing the real meaning of this story's title before this chapter even came out!