December 25, 1999
The Malfoy grounds were covered in a white blanket of snow; the cold dreary weather quite in accordance with Hermione's mood.
The revelations of her past tormented her; Draco had noticed her uncharacteristic silence, but had brushed it off as another one of her tantrums about the cold. Hermione's hatred towards the bitter winds of winter was not unknown to him. In reality, Hermione had tried to avoid Draco as much as possible, claiming to be busy in Christmas decorations; she was finding it incredibly difficult to forge her feelings and love him. How could she, after what he had done?
The large Christmas tree was lavishly decorated in the sitting room of the young couple. It was a tradition for them, to open presents among themselves first and then go down to greet the elder Malfoys.
Scorp was incredibly happy with his presents, and showered Hermione and Draco with watery kisses. Hermione allowed herself to enjoy these innocent happy moments, her heart full of love for her son.
Breakfast with the Malfoys was incredibly awkward for Hermione. She tried to reign in her anger and hatred for the death eaters. She knew any impulsive action on her part, would most likely get her killed. And she could not risk that so soon, not until she had found a way to protect Scorpius.
The day passed by after they had their customary photograph taken by one of the elves. It was a tradition really, to document each of the Christmases. Hermione grabbed the photograph as it developed, knowing that it would probably be the last picture of the three of them together. Even though she felt a pang of sorrow at the thought, she could feel the fear creep into her heart as she stared at the picture in her hand.
'Will they notice?' she panicked. The Hermione in the picture had a forced smile and fearful eyes; quite in contrast with the jolly mood of Draco. If she could see it, others can too, right? Or maybe she was thinking too much into this. 'It's just a photograph,' Hermione assured herself repeatedly.
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Hermione was playing with Scorpius in his room later in the day, when an agitated Draco came in.
"Hermione, a word with you?" Draco's voice was stern, leaving her with no other option than to follow him to their bedroom.
Draco was pacing across the room, his hands tugging on his hair occasionally. Hermione knew something was seriously wrong.
"Draco?" Hermione's voice rang out in the silent room.
In an instant, Draco turned and wrapped his strong arms around his wife; his body taut with tension. His fingers stroked her hair lovingly.
"We will have some guests around this evening. They will be in the West Wing. You and Scorp are to stay here, in our quarters. Do not take a step outside, do you hear me?" Draco's lips were on her neck, caressing her.
"But Dra..." Hermione couldn't finish her question as Draco's hands clasped on to her hair, tightly. He grabbed the back of her neck and tilted her head, only to capture her caramel orbs with his stormy grey ones. "For once, listen to me. I don't want you to leave the quarters, for any reason. Do. You. Understand?"
Draco Malfoy was a selfish man. He did not have any regret for what he had done to Hermione all those years ago. What he wanted, he took. His obsession, Hermione and their miracle, Scorpius were the only things keeping him sane in the dystopian world of Lord Voldemort. He might be a brutal deatheater, but he would never endanger his family.
Hermione's voice caught in her throat; Draco had never acted in this way with her before. A myriad of emotions ran through her mind, fear being the most prominent one. For the first time in her fake marriage, she saw the dangerous man that Draco could be. Unable to form the correct words, Hermione just nodded; hoping that her husband would believe her.
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Nightfall brought upon an ominous feeling over the entire Manor. The glittering lights and decorations could not disguise the solemn atmosphere; even Scorpius was unusually silent, clutching on his mother's robes. Draco had left an hour ago, reminding Hermione of her promise once again. She knew that he had also placed some wards outside her rooms without telling her.
Putting her baby to sleep, Hermione placed a couple of protective enchantments over Scorpius's bed. She could not take any chances today. She knew exactly who the 'guests' were. Draco's paranoia was proof of the fact that Voldemort would be in the Manor that evening.
Around an hour or two later, Winky arrived with the news, "He here, Mistress! The snake-man here!"
Hermione gathered her puddle of nerves; she had to see for herself how bad the world she lived in was. Moving towards the door, Winky and she began to break down the wards one by one.
The East and the West Wing were connected by a long hallway, surrounded by green walls covered by floral patterns.
Hermione's heart was pounding rapidly against her chest. Although she had cast a disillusionment charm and a strong Muffliato over herself, she had to be extremely careful.
As she neared the large dining hall where the supposed 'guests' were being entertained, Hermione could hear the loud raucous laughter. A few moments later, a scream pierced through the hallway, making Hermione stop in her tracks.
Her eyes filled with tears; they were torturing somebody. Torturing! The scream was followed by a Crucio, Sectumsempra and other spells she had not even heard about.
Hermione questioned herself if she could do this; if she could bear seeing the injustice happening in her home! But she had to; she had to do this to secure her baby's life. Calming herself, she inched towards the room. The doors were wide open, as if no one cared if they were seen.
Hermione peered into the room, immediately catching a sight of Draco, Narcissa and Lucius at the end of the room, near the throne where the man of the hour himself, Voldemort was seated. The centre of the room had been cleared out; deatheaters were surrounding it in a large circle. With careful manipulation, Hermione stepped on to a ledge hidden behind a large curtain and grabbed on to a nearby pillar. A small hole in the wall gave her a perfect view of the room.
Hermione watched in horror as a young girl was being cursed repeatedly by none other than the mad Bellatrix. The lunatic was cackling with laughter as the girl thrashed and clawed her nails on to the marble floors, leaving deep gashes behind. Thick rivulets of tears ran along Hermione's cheeks. The torture went on for a few minutes, only stopping when the girl went limp.
She had died.
"Greyback! Take away your food!" Voldemort hissed from his seat.
Hermione watched helplessly as the werewolf grabbed a hold of the body and lunged it around as if it were nothing but a sack of potatoes. Hermione felt faint.
"Draco...Come. You should enjoy as well. It is your home after all!" Voldemort gave out a loud boisterous laugh.
Hermione panicked. Draco...she had not even finished this line of thought, when an older woman was dragged into the room and thrown on the floor, which was already littered with blood. She looked similar, but with matted blonde hair and torn ragged cloth...the woman turned and Hermione saw her face. She immediately clasped a hand over her mouth, not trusting herself to not make a noise.
Rosmerta. Madam Rosmerta! The Three Broomsticks flashed through Hermione's mind.
'No, no, no!' Hermione thought as Draco neared the woman. Her eyes widened as Draco directed a Crucio at the woman on the floor. Hermione closed her eyes immediately, unable to witness the actions of her husband. She could not believe what was happening, as loud screams of pain rang across the room. The deatheaters were laughing and making whooping noises, egging Draco on.
Hermione couldn't watch anymore. She did the only thing she could at that time. She ran.
She ran until she reached her bedroom, and then proceeded to throw up spectacularly over the lavish green rug. Winky was at her side in an instant; cleaning up her mess and mumbling soothing words to her mistress. Hermione's cries couldn't seem to cease; she cried for Madam Rosmerta, for the young innocent girl who died in pain, for Harry and Ron, for all those who had died at the hands of a mad man; but most of all, she cried for herself, and for her son. What a fool she had been! Trusting and loving a person like Draco Malfoy, for believing him, for losing all these years of her life. She felt dirty; sharing a bed with him every single day, sharing her body with such a horrible person. Pain coursed through her veins, as she thought of her boy. Did she want to raise Scorp in such a world? What if Draco tried to impose his ideals and beliefs on him? The man that he was, he would do exactly that.
Hermione steeled herself at that thought. She could not let her child grow up in such an environment. No! She wouldn't let that happen.
She had made her mind. There was no turning back now. Wiping the tears away from her eyes, Hermione turned to her elf and said, "Go and tell them. I am ready."