A/N: Hi All!
First, a special thanks to takingflight4, Please don't sto, Hufflehuggs, decadenceofmysoul, Irina Asakura, RubyDragonJewel, jacpin2002, percabethbooklion, maits18, HarperARavn, and the three guests that commented on the last chapter. they all made me smile and I really do appreciate it!
I also want to thank everyone who's followed and favorited this fic! Thank you so so much
Here is Chapter 1 a day (or two days depending where you are) early. I will usually post chapters every Thursday but I just wanted to get this one out.
Thanks again, and as always, enjoy!
Chapter 1:
Hermione's body felt heavy. It hurt to move, and it even hurt to breathe, but the bed was so soft, and the sheets smelled of lavender. She wanted to sink back into sleep, her body begging her for more rest.
Her mind went to the last thing she remembered, Lord Voldemort demanding a healer while Snape was crouched next to her. She forced open her eye to take in her surroundings, the light streaming in through the windows. Hermione took a quick glance around the room and she was sure that this bedroom could house a family of five easily. The room was large and spacious, soft creams and lilacs coloring the walls and furniture. Hermione then focussed on the woman in the room with her, Narcissa Malfoy, slouched in a Louis XIV chair, a book haphazardly on the floor face down.
Hermione forced her self off the bed, her limbs shaking, protesting her every move. She set her jaw in determination, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and standing with the help of the nightstand. Hermione shuffled towards the book, loosing balance and falling forward, catching herself on the ground, yelping in pain when her body collided with the marble floor.
Narcissa Malfoy was up in a moment, moving to haul Hermione up gently without hesitation.
"What do you think you're doing?" the older witch said, helping Hermione back into the large, four poster bed, tucking the young witch in, "You shouldn't be up and about in your condition."
Hermione, who's body ached down to her bones, shrugged the witch off. "The book," she said, gasping her words, "its on the floor. It's no way to treat a book."
The blonde froze, her eyes slowly making their way to Hermione's face, searching for any deception.
"The book?" Narcissa asked, amusement growing in her eyes.
Hermione nodded, her eyes darting away from the cornflower eyes of the other witch.
Narcissa pulled away and picked up the fallen book, dusting it off before handing it to Hermione. Hermione gave a small nod of appreciation and the two fell into an uncomfortable silence.
Hermione busied herself with inspecting the book, her left hand slowly resting over her stomach, a soft smile on her lip.
"Your— er— grandfather told me to notify him when you woke," Narcissa whispered, leaning forward as though the walls had ears, though Hermione expected they did, "but I will send for him when you're ready."
Hermione nodded, taking her time to take in the information.
A part of her wanted to run, to leave and take her child into the muggle world to raise it alone. But she here for a reason. Her grandfather was the Dark Lord, and her grandmother— or at least what Hermione could find— was a witch named Jasmine from France, first in her year in Beauxbatons, and apparent wife to the Dark Lord for three decades before her murder in 1975.
Hermione fiddled with the book in her hands, causing the pages to tear slightly as her anxiety rose. "Can I have a minute to— um—"
"Of course," the older witch said, sitting back regally in the chair by the wall, her eyes on Hermione, "whenever you're ready. "
They sat in uncomfortable silence, Hermione's tremors worsening as the minutes ticked by, the panic of how her life was changing slowly squeezing the sanity out of her. Her breath came to her shorter, she turned her head towards the window, hoping to hide the way her lower lip trembled. Hermione took in a slow, shaky breath, willing the swell of emotion growing in her throat to sink back down.
Narcissa seemed to notice, because without Hermione seeing, the blonde with moved to the bed once again, offering a soft pink potion to her. Hermione shook her head and pulled the way, her hand protectively over her stomach, but Narcissa pushed on, setting the opening of the vial to the young girl's lip.
"It's a calming draught," Narcissa whispered, swallowing thickly when she lowered her gas to Hermione's stomach, quickly looking back up to Hermione's eyes, "safe for pregnancies."
Hermione bit her lip and tried to read the Malfoy Matriarch, finding no deception or ill will in her eyes.
But then again, Draco had always been able to hide his emotions…
Against her better judgement, Hermione released her lip from the confines of her death and opened her mouth, letting the sickly sweet potion slide down her throat. Hermione drank down the last of the potion with a shiver, her stomach twisting.
Slowly Hermione's mind slowed and her tremors lessoned, making it easier for her to taking in a deep breathe.
"Thank you," Hermione said, smoothing over the sheets spread over her lap.
Narcissa nodded, setting the vial down on the left side table. Hermione watched in amazement as the witch opened the drawer and pulled out Hermione's wand, Bellatrix's old wand, before handing it to Hermione. Hermione ripped it out of the witches hand, the book she was using as an anchor quickly forgotten.
"I would assume you would feel safer with your wand on hand," Narcissa said evenly, "but I have to warn you, causing a ruckus will not be acceptable. Understand?"
Hermione nodded, gripping the wand tightly to her chest, letting the magic thrum through her, a warm sensation slowly filling her.
Narcissa folded her hands in her lap, letting Hermione have her moment.
Hermione took in a shaky breath, one much calmer than the once minutes before, and she relaxed her arms into her lap, her wand still tightly clutched in her fist.
She cleared her throat.
"Did—" Hermione began, "—Was I seen by a healer?"
Narcissa eyed the young witch closely, considering her next words, and Hermione feared about the news this woman would bring her.
"Aside from the malnutrition and the hours of the Cruciatus, you and your child are okay," Narcissa said, "though I and your grandfather both agree that you're anything but. You have a strict diet and potion regimen ahead of you once the healer think's you're strong enough."
Hermione nodded, opening her mouth to speak before she was cut off.
"Don't tell me that you're okay," Narcissa continued, "you're a walking skeleton with skin. Frankly, I'm surprised that you survived two nights ago."
Hermione snorted, the arrogance that filled the woman's tone was laughable, but she didn't expect anything more from a Pureblood aristocrat.
Then it hit her.
"Two days?" Hermione croaked, her eyes wide, "I've been asleep for two days?"
Narcissa jumped at the witches sudden outburst, "Yes."
Hermione fumbled with her wand, struggling to hold her wand correctly before she cast Expecto Patronus her silvery otter flowing to life, swimming circles above her and Narcissa's head.
"Tell them that I'm— that we're safe—" Hermione rasped out, her eyes on her Patronus as it floated above her head.
The otter gave a nod before swimming out the closed the window.
"Tell who?" Narcissa demanded, standing abruptly, her eyes wide with panic, "Who did you just contact?"
Hermione took in a deep breathe, her eyes on Narcissa, who's hand had instinctively moved to the wand stopped onto her hip. "I think I'm ready to talk to my grandfather."
Narcissa just stared, her jaw clenched in anger. "I asked you a question."
Hermione sat up straight, "No one bad, Just—"
A new Patronus leapt into the room and interrupted Hermione. A stag.
The stag bowed, lifting its left hoof, "We're glad you're both safe… we were worried for a minute there. We'll try and keep in contact with you as things progress… Promise you'll be okay." Harry's voice echoed in Hermione's head.
Then the stag it disappeared, leaving Hermione with a warmth in her chest, happy that her friends were still on her side.
"Harry. Ron." Hermione whispered in longing, a sad smile gracing her features.
Narcissa choked down an unladylike gasp, grasping the wand at her hip, "Potter? Weasley? Are they coming here?"
"No,"Hermione said, a soft smile on her lips, "They were just checking that your lot didnt kill me the moment you saw me."
"I- I don't understand." Narcissa's grip on her wand loosened.
"They're the ones told me to come here… to find the Dark Lord and tell him about who I am to him." Hermione explained, her emotions threatening to overflow.
Narcissa's brows knitted together, her head dipping slightly in confusion, "Why?" she whispered, noticing the other witches distress.
Hermione looked up to the other witch, stark determination burning in her eyes, "Protection." She said strongly, "I— we— need protection from Dumbledore."