Breakfast in the Great Hall was always full of commotion, owing to owls delivering the post and students dashing in and out at random intervals according to when they woke up, and today was no exception. Students were snatching at the Daily Prophet and letters from home, discussing upcoming homework assignments, and shoveling food in their mouth.

Only the Slytherin table held any sense of decorum and Draco inwardly sneered at the proper raising those from other houses so obviously lacked. His family may be pure-blood elitists, but at least they taught him proper manners.

His sneer turned into a full scowl as he caught sight of Ron Weasley shoving eggs into his mouth so quickly, most of it was falling right back out onto the table. He knew Hermione had a small crush on the oaf at some point and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. Disgust was plainly written all over his face at the red head.

He turned his attention back to his own plate and started to slowly eat the small breakfast quiche placed perfectly in the center. Normally, it was one of his favorites foods, but this morning it seemed dry on his tongue and after a few meager forkfuls he gave up on eating.

As he got up from the table and made to exit the Great Hall, his eyes involuntarily fell on Hermione. She looked tired and apprehensive, which was probably his fault, but he couldn't bring himself to talk to her right now. After leaving Dumbledore's office yesterday, his mind had been in a constant turmoil.

She looked up from the table as he was passing and he felt an unfamiliar pang of guilt shoot through him at how he was treating her. It was wrong, he knew it was wrong. She was probably just as scared as he was. Hell, it was her body that would be changing, yet he was the one avoiding her. Honestly, he detested his Slytherin traits sometimes, but they were hard to break.

When he cast the spell to confirm or deny his suspicions of her pregnancy, he felt as if the world had just stopped. He wouldn't hate the child, in fact, if it wasn't for the circumstances he would almost feel proud, but he certainly wasn't ready to be a father. He had barely been ready to be a husband. Fortunately, his wife turned out to be a much better match than he would have ever expected. Besides, being allowed to have sex on school grounds without worrying was always a plus.

Most of his thoughts were more focused on Hermione and his safety, not to mention their unborn child's. If the Dark Lord knew he was married to the Gryffindor Princess they would be dead. If he found out that not only were they married, but having a child together they were worse than dead.

There was no end to the sick ideas Voldemort would come up with to torture them throughout her pregnancy. Of course, he would allow her to have the child. It would be exactly in line with his past to let them see their child before snatching it away to do only Merlin knows to it making them watch.

The mere thought made Draco want to be sick. Unlike his father, he couldn't stand by as his family was put under torture and forced into things against their will. His father was a cold-hearted menace and part of him worried that, even though he was determined not to be, somehow he would turn into his father towards his own child.

If they survived this war, how would he be as a father? Would he be cold and calculated, putting his beliefs before his own child's happiness? He certainly couldn't see himself being the happy-go-lucky father he had seen Arthur Weasley be. In fact, the thought made him cringe, but he did want his child to know he loved him and to not be scared to go after his own dreams without worrying about being a disappointment. His memories of a child with his father were filled with fear of disappointment and constant reprimands. No, he may not be Arthur Weasley but he certainly would not be his father either.

Draco continued to mull in his own thoughts over the situation he and Hermione had found themselves in until he found himself in Potions later that afternoon paired with his wife at a table. Why, if their relationship was supposed to be so secret were they constantly thrown together by the two men who knew they were married? The question made Draco scowl even deeper and he felt a pang of remorse when he saw Hermione wince. He knew she must be thinking he was angry with her and suddenly he felt exactly like the Slytherin prat all of her friends thought he was.

As they started silently working on their potion, he started to question if it was even safe for her to be in this environment. What if a potion exploded? Or worse, what if she was made to test a potion that some dunderhead like Longbottom brewed incorrectly? Draco tried hard to shake the image from his brain. His godfather knew she was expecting and he could also tell a dangerous or misbrewed potion just by looking at it. There was no way his godfather would let his wife or unborn child come to harm, even if he was not willing to help them against Dumbledore's scheming.

"Do you want to chop the ingredients and I'll stir?"

Her question jolted him to attention. He nodded his head silently and saw her shoulders deflate a little. They had to get better at keeping up the act that they still hated each other. Hogwarts might feel like it was a place they could afford to keep their guard down but they both knew the reality was far different.

"Fine, it's for the best. I can chop more precise than you could ever hope to, Granger."

Inwardly, he cringed at his own words yet knew they were necessary. He watched as her body tensed and then she responded back cooly enough to make him question the reliability of the sorting hat, "Oh really? Is that how you manage to have any friends? You brew potions strong enough that they are forced to like you?"

"Five points from Gryffindor, Ms. Granger," a cool voice interrupted them, "Now get to work."

If the situation wasn't so dire, Draco would have felt proud of his wife.

Instead, he watched as Hermione stirred the potion and felt sadness that they could not have a normal relationship. He wanted to brush her hair out of her face but he was stuck watching her get frustrated before she knocked a strand out of the way with her hand just to have it fall back in her line of vision again. He shook himself out of his trance. Right now, they had to keep things a secret. Instead of foolish romantic fantasies that would never be reality, he needed to focus on just what Dumbledore intended for them and, more specifically, their child.

The rest of the class continued uneventfully, although he did notice Potter and Weasley shooting dark looks at him and pitiful glances at Hermione. They probably thought Snape was trying to torture her by pairing their friend with him. Although, that may not be far from the truth, just for different reasons than her two best friends were thinking. Wouldn't it make more sense to keep them apart? Draco furrowed his brow wondering why it seemed like they were constantly being put at risk for showing any sign of cordialness, much less affection.

He sighed, maybe his godfather just wanted to allow them to have practice. He really was getting paranoid these days and silently wondered if this was a trait that was rubbing off from his wife. He knew the Golden Trio were always questioning everything that moved and now he was doing the same.

After finishing the potion and receiving a dry compliment of "Well done," they both went their separate ways without a word. Draco silently cursed the situation for the one hundredth time that day and vowed to try to find time to talk to Hermione the first chance he got. He couldn't continue to drag her down just because he needed time to himself.

Later that evening, Draco was walking alone down the corridors preparing to go to dinner when suddenly his arm started burning. He had been expecting it and was honestly surprised he had had so much time without being summoned since receiving the dark mark. He glanced around quickly to make sure nobody was looking before slipping down a corridor that would eventually take him outside. As he walked, the burning became more insistent and he found himself grasping his forearm in pain by the time he made his way to the gate so that he could apparate.

Glancing around nervously again to make sure nobody had noticed him leaving the school grounds, he turned on his heel and felt the familiar tug of apparation. A feeling that normally excited him, unlike most, but this time his stomach felt heavy with dread.

Fear. That was the only sense he felt when his feet suddenly touched the ground at the location Voldemort had summoned him. He knew there was no way that the Dark Lord knew about his wife or his child but that knowledge did not help slow down his rapid heartbeat. Draco knew he had to get control over his thoughts before he came face to face with anyone and quickly focused on a still lake surface, impenetrable to anything except what he would allow to break the surface. By the time he stepped into the circle of death eaters, his face held none of the emotion held within.

The room they were in was dark. He could not see any distinct faces around him, either concealed by masks or shadows. It took all his energy to keep the lake still and frozen in his mind. He wanted to return to Hogwarts, to what at least used to be safe. He found that he had to push down deeper under the still water the next thought that wanted to surface. That Hogwarts and the headmaster of the illustrious school that used to represent all that was good, now represented just as much of a threat against his safety as the snake pit he was currently standing in.

He was almost relieved when he felt a hand tap him on the shoulder so that his thoughts stilled without as much effort. Draco turned his head and noticed a glimpse of platinum blonde that matched his own. His father. His body stiffened at the realization.

"Draco, my boy, you made it."

"Of course, father."

"And how is that school of yours? Is the old fool still guiding that Potter brat?"

"Yes, father but it does no good. Potter is too hotheaded, he's useless." He grimaced at how a part of him still sought to please his father after all of these years, even if he barely meant the words coming out of his mouth.

Memories of his father floated under the edge of the water in his mind. Kids at school teased him for always relying on the power and money of his father, even Slytherins would have if they had not feared the Malfoys' connections to the Dark Lord. What none of his classmates knew though is that every time he relied on his father, the short-lived satisfaction that came from seeing his peers put in their place was overcome by the anger his father directed at him afterwards.

In his father's eyes, he could never do anything right. He was weak and coddled by his mother too much, maybe that was true. As a child, he feared his father but the fear was a fear of displeasing. No, despite the anger that resided in Lucius Malfoy at the disappointment he felt towards his son and heir, he had never been physically violent to the boy. Disdainful, verbally abusive maybe, but he never laid a hand on him.

That is until the previous summer.

They had not talked unless forced to since that day. The day Draco learned that he would be taking the dark mark in a few months. Of course, the news was not shocking. At one time, he had naively looked forward to receiving what he had been raised to view as a badge of honor. But as he grew, more and more of the Dark Lord's beliefs about blood did not add up.

He saw how bright Granger was. A part of him hated her for it, at one time thinking she was unworthy of the intelligence she was gifted, but then his perspective started to shift. The ideology he was raised to believe in started to crack. Maybe, just maybe, her intelligence was proof blood did not matter. What if, instead of being a waste on a mudblood, and a failure of his own to outwit her with his pure blood status, her intelligence proved that she was equal? That blood did not make someone more worthy or deserving than any other person.

It took one sentence to unleash all that it seemed his father had been holding back from him the night he was told the news.

"I don't want it."

His father's eyes had turned colder than he had ever seen them that night.

"Well my dear boy, I nor the Dark Lord care what you want. And unless you want this family to fall to the worst kind of fate, including your mother, you will do as you are told and you will enjoy it."

Draco knew not to say anything else to his father but he could not bring himself to turn away and accept his fate. To be a part of a group that wanted to kill people based on who their parents were. What once seemed so attractive now repulsed him. He held his jaw firm and stared unblinkingly at the elder Malfoy.

Lucius' anger exploded.

"Crucio!"

Draco dropped to the ground writhing in pain, wanting to scream in agony but the torture continued, relentlessly taking all of his breath from his lungs keeping him silent.

Lucius stood over him never moving his wand or breaking eye contact.

"Listen to me and listen to me closely. This is only a taste of what you will experience if you ever try to do anything but what you are told again. I do not care what you want or do not want. You will join the Dark Lord and you will help us win this battle against those filthy mudbloods who want to ruin our world. If you do not, do not think for a second that being my son will protect you. I will watch as the Dark Lord tortures you and I will not even blink."

Draco could not tell if the sudden tearing pain was from the curse or his father's words. At the moment he finally broke and was trying to form the words to beg his father to stop, Lucius ended the curse turning on his heel and walked away.

The past disappeared as quickly as it came when Voldemort entered the circle, forcing Draco to push any memories of the night his father tortured him down deep underwater.

"Good evening. Tonight will be extra special. Since the young Mr. Malfoy could not stay with us after receiving his mark last time, I have planned something to reward the boy for his unwavering loyalty to our cause."

Draco felt his stomach clench. Whatever he was about to hear was not going to be good, much less an actual reward in his opinion. He only hoped, whatever it was, that it would be quick.

"Tonight, one of you found a muggle girl snooping around a village." As the Dark Lord spoke a girl was levitated into the middle of the circle. She looked terrified and was breathing heavy. Merlin knew what had already been done to her.

"To show Draco how much we appreciate him helping Severus by spying on the Potter brat and his friends, I have saved this filthy muggle just for him."

Voldemort looked straight at Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, your present."

Draco knew what was expected of him. It was not rape. Thankfully, everyone here hated muggles so deeply they would never deem to lower themselves to that but the outcome was still horrible. The irony was not lost on him. The last time he interacted with his father he was crucioed, and now he would have to put the girl through the same experience. He didn't know if it made it worse or better that she had no idea what was coming.

The pain he would inflict on her was not the main thing that was bothering him though. To cast a curse like crucio, one must want to hurt the person they are attacking. Draco knew it and he knew if he failed to successfully cast the curse, he would be worse than dead. It was the knowledge that when he succeeded in casting the curse, it meant that a piece of him was like every other death eater standing around him.

Doing everything in his power, he raised his wand arm and aimed at the young woman in front of him. He thought of everything that had happened in the past few days and forced himself to blame it all on the innocent person in front of him. If muggles did not exist for these people to hate, he would not be in this situation. His family, his wife and child, would not be in this situation.

It was a filthy lie, but a lie that he could tell himself in order to have the hate fill him that he needed for the curse.

With a sickening feeling of self-loathing, he let the word fall from his lips.

"Crucio."

A/N: It has been forever since I updated this and honestly, I thought I never would. For some reason though, I read recent reviews and became impatient to publish a new chapter and to actually complete this story.

Please let me know what you think and I hope to have another chapter from Hermione's perspective out shortly.