A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

A special thank you to takingflight4, Royan Granger-Nott, 1991, Whit96, and the Guest who commented on the last chapter. Thank you so much! I really REALLY appreciate it. And another thank you to everyone who has been following this story as it grows!

We will be having Dramione interact in the next few chapters (finally!) so I'm excited for that.

Disclaimer, I do not own Harry Potter.

As always, enjoy!

Chapter 16

Late August— Present

It took Hermione days before she was able to walk around freely. The slicing hex scar on her back a permanent reminder of how close to death she really was.

Snape, of course, was helpful. He would bring her food until she was all enough to help him with potions. Once she was ups and around, she would be bent over cauldrons mixing and stirring potions, elixirs, and salves to be sent off to several of Anti-Order and Death Eater survivors by owls.

"The Drought of Dreamless Sleep is going to burn," Snape said as he peered into a cauldron filled with wolfsbane potion.

"It's not going to burn," Hermione said as she stirred the potion.

"It will."

"It wont."

Hermine gave a final stir before she lifted it off the fire, setting it aside to cool. The witch quickly moved away from the potion to the next one.

"You'll burn the Polyjuice Potion," Snape said working on crushing beetles to add to a burn salve.

"I wont."

Snape rolled his eyes, huffing. "You'll have to move into the next room for a few hours, the Wolfsbane will start to simmer."

Hermine nodded. The fumes of certain potions were dangerous for pregnant women so Hermine would spend time in the library, reading up on what she could on Dumbledore's past.

Form what she gathered, his first horcrux was created when he accidentally killed his sister. Things started to go down hill from there.

Where Fawkes and what the mystery horcrux could be was what Hermione thought about night and day. It was her mission, part of her promise to not only the other countries that had now allied themselves to her, but one she had made to her friends.

Hermione let her head fall back and let her eyes close, the threadbare armchair oddly comfortable for being decades old.

"Are you alright, Miss. Granger?" Snape asked.

"I'm alright." Hermione ground out.

Hermione cracked open an eye to find the old professor standing in the doorway with two cups of tea, one of which Hermione greatfully accepted.

"The pregnancy is taking a lot out of me— I may have avoided most of the morning sickness but I'm always tiered." Hermione whispered, taking a sip of the tea, surprised to find it just how she liked.

"That's understandable," Snape said, making himself comfortable on the larger couch in the room. Hermione was sure that the spot she was currently occupying was his usual seat but Snape had not asked her to move and nor did she intend to. "You are growing a human. And we are at war. I can only imagine what else is lingering in that head of yours. But remember what we discussed, you are to take it slow."

Hermione hummed, taking the opportunity to take a sip of her tea. The pair sat in silence, the only sound was the bubbling of the potions in the next room. Hermione was just about done with her tea when there was a soft chime of the doorbell.

Hermione made to stand, her wand at the ready, when Snape gave her a sharp look before standing and exiting the room with a flourish.

He returned with Bellatrix Lestrange following close behind.

Hermione stiffened.

"Oh look at the little princess," Bellatrix cackled, "all comfy."

"Watch your tone, Bella, I don't need to remind you who's home you're in," Snape said cooly.

The mad witch rolled her eyes and went to one of the bookshelves, taking a random book only to drop it onto the floor. "I'm here to escort the chit to a new safe house," Bellatrix said with an indifferent tone.

"A safe house where?" Hermione asked, bending awkwardly to stand, her growing stomach already making standing normally difficult.

Bellatrix shrugged, "I cant say, its a secret."

Snape thrust his nose in the air, "She's leaving under who's orders?"

"Her grandfathers," Bellatrix said venomously, "not get ready, we leave at sundown."

Hermione didn't need to be told twice, she went to her sleeping quarters and packed the few cloths Snape had gathered for her the past week and half. Snape snatched the small bag from Hermione's hands and threw it at Bellatrix.

"You carry it, she's carrying enough," Snape hissed.

"Of course," Bellatrix flashed her rotting teeth.

Hermione early had the chance whispered her goodbyes to Snape before the mad witch pulled her out the door. The August air nice, the cold bite of the winter already handing in air, and to be honest, Hermione was thankful. It was a reminder she was alive.

But it was also a reminder she had work to do.

Her hand drifted to her stomach. The further away from Spinner's End they travelled and the deeper the witches walked into the woods, the more Hermione was sure that Bellatrix was lost.

"Are you sure we're going the right way?" Hermione whispered, finding it difficult to catch her breath.

"I'm sure, Half-blood," Bellatrix said, still strutting forward.

Hermione paused gripping the bark on a tall tree, "I need to stop," Hermine coughed, "I cant keep going."

Bellatrix whipped around, her lip pulled into a sneer. Her face softened when she saw Hermione clutching her bump with one hand.

It was an odd sight.

"It's not too far," Bellatrix whispered, "only half a mile. Can you walk that far?"

Hermione boded and pushed on and when she saw a three story house in the distance, shielded by the trees, she sent a silent prayer to Merlin.

Bellatrix kept pace with Hermione, grabbing her elbow when the young witch's legs were going to give out.

It seemed that she still hadn't healed from her injuries both before and after the attack at the Manor.

When Bellatrix all but kicked down the door, Hermione was expecting everything but the red-headed matriarch of the Weasley Clan to push the mad witch out of her way to wrap her arms around Hermione. Hermione hugged back as tight as she could, the warmth for the older witch brining back something to Hermione she had thought she lost long ago.

"Oh my dear girl," Molly cried, "I've missed you so."

"I missed you too, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione whispered, sniffling when Molly gave her an encouraging squeeze.

The two pulled apart and Molly's hand immediately fount Hermione's bump, "Getting quite big, aren't we?" Molly laughed.

Hermione flushed, nodding.

The moment was cut short when Bellatrix sniffed, "I'm hungry."

Molly rolled her eyes, pulling Hermione into the kitchen, gesturing Bellatrix to follow. The table was set, the inviting smell of cottage pie hanging in the air.

It was significantly better than the smell of half made potions at any rate.

"Have a seat," Molly said, "the others will be down shortly."

Hermione's head snapped up, "others?"

Molly gave half a shrug, "the younger Death Eaters are here. Nott, Parkinson, Malfoy. A few others too." Molly turned to Hermione, "Ron and Harry are on a mission so they won't be back for some time."

Hermione nodded.

Draco made it out alive.

A weight was lifted from her shoulders.

Molly wasn't wrong, not two minutes after Hermione sat down did the others slowly decent from the upper floors. Nott was the first to see Hermione. He ran up to her with his hands curled tightly into fists.

"What is wrong with you!" He blurted immediately, "I thought you were dead!"

Hermione had the decency to look guilty, "I'm sorry, Theo, it won't happen again."

Theodore huffed and plopped himself down in the seat between Hermione and Bellatrix, who was already enjoying the home cooked meal.

Hermione glanced around the table to find several of her Slytherin classmates at the table quietly eating.

Draco was the last to arrive.

He made it to the kitchen and when his eyes lock onto Hermione's, he froze in place. It took him a moment, but when he was finally in control of himself, he sat across form the brunette witch, his foot slid across the floor and pressed against hers.

A silent hello.

A silent question.

Hermione gave him a small smile before she dug in, no longer able to ignore her growing hunger.

The other Death Eaters disappeared up the stairs as Molly charmed the dishes to wash themselves. Hermione sat at the table awkwardly.

"Come on dear," Molly said, wiping her hands on her apron, "I'll take you to your room. I don't think that your grandfather would approve of you sharing a room with young Mr. Nott no matter the circumstance."

Molly gave Hermione a knowing look, one that told the young witch that she knew more than she was letting on.

Did she know?

Hermione put a protective hand over her stomach.

Who else knows?

"Come," Molly gently pulled Hermione up, leading her up the rickety staircase.

The upper floors were eerily quiet, al sound escaped from the hallway and led to nothing.

"What do you know, Molly?" Hermione whispered, eyes darting side to side to make sure they were the only ones in the hall.

Molly opened the door at the end of the hall to reveal a bare room, a small bed and dresser the only things in it. She closed the door once the brunette witch was safe within the room's walls.

"When Mr. Malfoy first got here, he was the only one other than myself who lived here. His nightmares were clear on who wanted to protect." Molly swallowed thickly.

Hermione paled, "Nightmares?"

Molly nodded, "He was always screaming after you, and your child. That's when I started to layer the silencing spells, no one else needs to know. That's dangerous information." Molly paused to take a breath, "Mr. Nott has already been targeted because of the rumor that he's the father. He was the second to arrive. The others came soon after."

The two stood in silence, the now obvious silencing spells numbing Hermione's senses.

"Do you think I've made the right decision?" Hermione asked.

"What's done is done," Molly responded curtly, "there's no changing it."

"But—"

"Hermione," Molly said, "there were other ways but it's done, we need to deal with the consequences now."

Hermione crossed her arms around her stomach, "We?"

"You don't think that I would let you handle this on your own, now would you?" Molly asked sincerely, hurt flashing in her eyes.

"I'm scared, Molly."

"I know, dear."