AN: Please Read and Review. Five reviews for the next chapter :) Also, I am currently willing to answer any question that you have about this story, or any of the Mudblood's Daughter stories, so please, write in, review, anything :) I'd love to hear your questions, opinions ad queries.
Another thing is that I am now going to name each chapter after the chapter in the Half-Blood Prince it is set in, so if you wish you can read the book along with the fanfiction.

Special Shout-Out to Darthfiredragon, Sulliebee and Miss Troll Queen for their unrelenting support with the story. I don't think they have ever missed a chapter, and for that, I am eternally thankful :)

The Mudblood's Daughter and the Vanishing Cabinet

Hermione was silent, as she sat by Ron's bedside, Ginny and Harry on either side of her. Her nerves were shot, after having to wait all day to finally get in, and see him. Numbly, she heard Fred and George talking, yet blocked them out as she focused on Ron. It was late. She wasn't exactly sure what time, yet it was after dinner, as Ginny had forced her to eat about an hour or so ago. The curtains on the large windows were drawn, and lamps were lit, the candle flames flickering gently behind the glass guards. Rain could be heard hammering against the window.

She saw George putting a large wrapped gift on the bedside table, before he sat next to Ginny. Hermione looked at him, momentarily, before she stared down at Ron again. She heard them talking about Fred and George buying Zonko's, and how it would be a 'fat load of good' if they weren't allowed to go to Hogsmeade at weekends.

Then she had to squeeze her eyes shut to prevent tears when Harry was made to repeat what had happened to him, how he had been under a love potion and Harry had taken him to Slughorn, how Slughorn had given him the antidote under the guise of a tonic, and how he had offered them a drink to calm their nerves. How Ron had swallowed his first, and collapsed, foaming at the mouth and Harry and remembered about bezoars and found one and shoved it down his throat. Ron's breathing had eased up, and Slughorn had gotten help. McGonnagle and Madame Pomfrey turned up, and had taken him to the Hospital wing, before saying he would be fine and he had to stay there for a week or so.

She looked away from the group, and down at her hands in her lap. Harry's statement of they were lucky to have found a bezoar in the room, was what made her sniff, and raise one to her eyes to remove a threatening-to-fall tear. Taking a shuddery breath, she looked down when she felt a hand clasp around hers, and looked at it, then up, to see Ginny giving her a comforting smile, even though it was her brother who was in Hospital.

"Do Mum and dad know?" Fred asked, looking at Ginny who nodded and said 'They've already seen him', explaining that they had been there an hour ago and gone to talk to Dumbledore. Ron mumbled, and Hermione's eyes instantly went to him, clenching her hand around Ginny's, who's tightened around hers as well. When Fred asked if the poison was in the drink, Hermione nearly groaned in frustration. She didn't want to hear it again.

Harry, on the other hand seemed delighted at the opportunity to talk about it again. Of course, if Hermione knew Harry, which she did, he was going over it in his mind so much that it would drive him crazy if he didn't talk about it. She listened to them accusing, and then defending Slughorn, before she interrupted when Ginny said that Slughorn had planned to give it to Dumbledore, and that it may have been meant to poison Dumbledore.

"Then the poisoner didn't know Slughorn very well," said Hermione. She realised she sounded ver ill, and that it was the first time she had spoken in hours, so she could see the shocked looks on the others. "Anyone who knew Slughorn would have known there was a good chance he'd keep something that tasty for himself."

"Er-my-nee," croaked Ron unexpectedly, and Hermione felt herself warm as she looked at him again, both anxious and softly. She tuned out again, looking up breifly when a rain-soaked Hagrid strode in, before turning her attention back to Ron. However, when they started thinking that this was all because of Quidditch, she looked at them, almost as if they were idiots.

"Well, I don't think it's Quidditch, but I think there's a connection between the attacks," she said quietly, and she went back to looking at Ron, when Fred asked how she worked that out. "Well, for one thing, they both ought to have been fatal and weren't, although that was pure luck. And for another, neither poison nor the necklace seems to have reached the person who was supposed to be killed. Of course that makes the person even more dangerous in a way, because they don't seem to care how many people they finish off before they actually reach their victim."

Hermia paced her office, one hand on her hip, and the other holding onto her chin as she tried to think. She knew it was Draco. She had lived this all before, and she knew it was Draco. But she couldn't do anything because it would change the future, something she couldn't risk. She groaned in frustration, turning and kicking her desk.

"Mrs Malfoy, it would be rather nice if you could refrain from destroying school property?" Dumbledore chuckled, and Hermia spun on her heel to see the kind-hearted old man smiling at her, his eyes twinkling. She looked at him, before she sniffed and gave him a welcoming smile. "How are you, Mrs Malfoy?"

Hermia had to admit, that the man had a habit of being able to make anybody reveal anything, as she slumped and rambled on about everything. "It's just so hard to be here, to know what is going to happen and not change it. I mean, I could help so many people, and save so many, and it's just gut-wrenching that I can't. I see them all, walking around, and I am trying to hard not to just break down and cry." She turned her back on him, placing her palms flat on her desk and closing her eyes. "Do you know what it is like to see people you loved and lost, people you have grieved for, walking around completely unaware of their fate?"

"Mrs Malfoy, if there was anything I could do to ease your burden-" Dumbledore stopped talking when she reared round, her eyes flashing and pure rage emanating from her. Her fist clenched, and her hair stood on end, her entire form tense. Dumbledore's eyebrows rose.

"If? IF there was anything you could do? You are Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, for Merlin's sake! There is nothing you can not do! And we both know that you know exactly how to send me home! You just won't tell me for whatever reason you have concocted! I am sick of it! I am sick of feeling like I should do as you tell me, because you are the 'greatest Wizard of our time'! I hate it here! I hate it here so much!" Hermione broke from her rant and began to sob, her knees folding under her and crumpling to the floor. Her sobs were heart-wrenching and shook her entire body. "I just want to go home! This isn't fair! I haven't done anything to deserve this torture!"

Dumbledore's eyes softened on her, the usual twinkling diminished as he gently stepped towards her and put a hand on her shoulder, bending down slightly. "I cannot confess that I understand how you feel, Mrs Malfoy, for I believe it is not my place to question matters of the human heart. However, I am truly honest when I tell you I do not have an ulterior motive in being unable to help you. I have never seen a case of time-travel such as yours."

Hermia sniffed, and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. She felt immature, but she missed her family. She was here, watching herself with her friends, her family, and pregnant with her child, that it was almost painful. Because she kept comparing them, to who they were in the future, even though they didn't become those people for years, because of future events, not current ones. Harry was laid-back in the future, because he had realised how obsessive he had been during the war. Ron was more determined because of his lack of it when he was younger, he wanted to make a name for himself, not hold onto the names of others. Qualities they possessed in the future, they did not even entertain in the past.

"I am trying so hard to find out how I get home, but I cannot find anything. I have been here two months, Professor. Two months. And I cannot find an answer to it," Hermia sighed. She ran her hand through her mane of hair, and then looked up a him. "What would you suggest I do?"

"I suggest you take the time to think, Mrs Malfoy. You the answer, somewhere in your mind. Think about everything you know will happen, that will affect these surroundings, and how you got here yourself," Dumbledore told her, and Hermia frowned, but nodded, taking it on board. Dumbledore gave her one more smile, before he left her to her thoughts.

Hermione lay on her back, staring up at the canopy above her head. The curtains around her bed were drawn, and she had her wand lit up at the foot of her bed. She had her palm on her slightly swollen stomach, stroking it with her thumb as she thought. Ron had nearly died. RON had nearly died. If Harry hadn't found that bezoar, Ron would be dead. There was no way she would be able to survive with that. She closed her eyes, exhaling heavily, and rolling onto her side, curling up.

She loved Ron. Truly she did. He was her best friend, he was the man she loved, he was so important to her it was untrue. To nearly lose him was heart-wrenching, and honestly, she wasn't sure if she could take anymore of this pain. And if they closed Hogwarts, she would be forced home, with her parents. The idea of it was almost suffocating. Her parent's, as much as she loved them, would disown her. Maybe not her mother but most definitely her father. He had almost zero tolerance for things like that, having been raised in a strict Christian home.

Hermione reached under her pillow, and looked at the small picture of her baby, moving around the centre, like a little alien. It had little arms, and little feet, and a massive head. She chuckled wetly, as it's arm moved in a waving potion, like it was waving to her. She felt wetness on her cheeks, and realised that she was crying with great disappointment. She always seemed to be crying lately. She honestly didn't know whether to blame the baby, or to blame the events that seemed to be spiralling around her. Sniffing, she snuggled into her pillow, putting her sonogram back under it, to try and get some sleep. Hopefully, the next day would be better than that day. It's not like it could have been any worse.

The next Saturday, she was braiding Ginny's hair to keep it away from face when she was playing Quidditch. Ginny's eyes widened, when she felt a brush against her back, and she turned in her seat, staring at Hermione's stomach. Hermione, the end of Ginny's braid still in her hand, rose an eyebrow, when Ginny lifted up her blue jumper, that was a size twelve and effectively hid her bump. "Hermione... you have a bump," she gasped, and Hermione nodded."Like an actual, 'she's pregnant' bump. What were your measurements before?"

"Hips were thirty-six and waist was twenty-seven," Hermione replied absently, still braiding Ginny's long, fiery hair. Ginny managed a 'What are they now'. That was only what caused her to flush, and stop braiding. "Forty and twenty-nine," she whispered. Ginny gaped at her, and Hermione had to giggle at the look on her face. Ginny turned er, so her belly was side on, and there was a definite bump. It was a little like she had swallowed a tennis ball, and it had caused a bump in her belly.

"Oh my god! Look at you! You are round!" Ginny gushed. Hermione laughed, quickly tying Ginny's braid and letting her admire her belly. "It's amazing. You can actually tell you are pregnant now. I mean, you're not big, but you can tell you're pregnant. It's amazing!" Ginny flushed, beaming at Hermione. Hermione blushed, giggling. She had been in an almost serene mood, since Monday, as she had been visiting Ron everyday, and it felt so amazing to have her best friend back, even with everything else that was going on. "You are going to have to tell them, 'Mione."

"Ginny..." Hermione sighed. She didn't want to have this argument, not right before the Quidditch match. Ginny put up her brown leather gloved hand, shushing her. Hermione scowled at her, and when to open her mouth again, to tell her exactly where Ginny could shove her 'shushing' when Ginny put her hand over Hermione's mouth. "Mph!" Hermione snapped, angrily.

"Hermione, you are showing, if you don't tell them now, you never will. I demand that you do it after the game. Not matter what. Or else I will," Ginny demanded. Hermione's eyes widened, and she nodded quickly. Both her fear of the Weasley temper, and the fact that she knew Ginny wasn't bluffing made her agree to Ginny's demands. Ginny smirked smugly. "Good. Now come on, we got a Quidditch pitch to get to."

Charissa knocked on the door to her grandmothers room. She listened for a reply, and sighed when she never received one. She opened the door slightly, and looked into the room. It was dark, as always, and deadly silent. Calling out 'Grandmother?' she slowly entered the large room, lifting a candle in it's holder from the chest outside the room, it's flame flickering with the sudden movement. She placed the holder down on the desk, lighting the candle on the desk, and the going to the bedside and lighting the candle's on the bedside table.

Her grandmother lay painfully still in the centre of her bed, her skin a pale grey, and eyes closed. Her hair long and grey fanned out around her head. There was a small frown on her lips, which were dry and cracked. Charissa furrowed her eyebrows, and placed her hand on her grandmothers shoulder. "Grandmother?" she called out her, trying to wake her, yet Cassadria stayed silent, and her eyes stayed closed. Charissa swallowed, and pursed her lips, as she placed her fingers onto Cassadria Hallow's cheek.

Cool flesh met her own chilled fingers, and Charissa's eyes widened, her entire form going rigid, and trembling as she stared at her Grandmother. Her teeth grit, and in that moment, something within her snapped. Anger, icy yet boiling, surged through her, and her eyes turned black. She stood, her back ram-rod straight, and stared down at the passed Cassadria. "Dawna," she called, and with a crack, the house elf appeared beside her. Her large blue eyes stared up at her, sensing the tense, surging anger that boiled within her Master, and squeaked 'yes, Miss Hallows?'.

"It appears my grandmother is dead. See to it that the others are informed, and arrange for her to be moved. I will not have her body on this property for longer than necessary. Ensure she is buried next to Grandfather. Are my orders clear?" Charissa asked, not looking at the House Elf, and turning her back to her Grandmother.

"Yes Miss."

"Good. And it's Lady Hallows, Dawna," Charissa informed, and Dawna nodded to herself. Charissa looked at her, once, before she turned and strode from the room.

Mentally, she ticked off her family in her head. Cassadria, Abbrox, Cassandra, Kyrian, Cissady, Corvine. All dead. All gone. Claria-Jane, Miona. Not officially Hallows blood. Her Great Aunt Cassandra would not take over the Hallows Empire, nor would her second cousin Cissady. Neither of them wanted to be tied to the Hallows family, and all the responsibility it's name held. Her great-Grandmother Cassia-Lillian was far too aged to be the Head, and had already passed on her title at the age of eighty. She lived in Paris now. Albus Dumbledore was not of Hallows Name, and male. You had to be female to be the face of the Hallows Empire, that was how it had always been.

It was just her. A bitter laugh escaped her. The last of the Hallows Family, by name and blood. She had nobody.