Chapter 7
Hermione watched his eyes grow wide in fear, then narrow in suspicion. A tense silence had fallen over the room after her declaration, and the young witch grew more nervous with every passing second.
Finally, the large boy standing behind her spoke.
"Draco, why is she telling you this?" he asked, his deep voice both cautious and confused.
The blond boy's eyes flickered to his friend before coming back to her. "Gregory, please escort Potter and Weasley to the dining hall, and let Tippy know that we'll be joining you shortly," he said, his voice razor sharp.
The only acknowledgement Hermione heard was the opening and closing of the door behind her.
After another tense moment passed, Malfoy walked by her to a small cabinet on the wall next to his desk.
She turned to watch him pull out a small glass and fill it with ice from a bucket within. Once done, he pulled out a bottle and poured an amber liquid in.
He drained the glass in one large gulp, and Hermione saw the label as he refilled his tumbler – Ogden's Old Firewhiskey.
"You're saying that you're pregnant and, by you telling me this, you're implying the child is mine," he stated, not facing her, his hands gripping the bottle and glass so hard his knuckles had turned white.
"Yes." She whispered, but in the dead silence, she felt as if she had shouted.
Faster than her eyes could follow, he spun around and she heard his glass fly past her ear just before breaking on the wall behind her.
"Fucking bloody hell!" he screamed, grabbing the cabinet and tipping it over, causing several bottles contained within to shatter.
"This is the last," he picked up an unbroken bottle and threw it against one of the bookcases, "fucking," he kicked a chair over, where it hit his desk and gouged a chunk out of it, "thing," he picked up another chair and launched it toward the window, but it missed and crashed into the another bookcase, shattering the wood and causing countless books to tumble to the ground, "I need," he finished tiredly as he fell into the last upright chair in front of his desk.
Hermione stood stock-still, afraid to move, as her heart threatened to beat out of her chest.
Not sure if his outburst was over, or if she was just sitting in the eye of the storm, she walked to stand in front of him as slowly and calmly as possible. Reaching her destination in front of the desk and paused to take his abnormal behavior.
He was rocking back and forth with his hands over his face, breathing heavily into them, trying to relieve the last of his anger. After a moment he clasped his hands under his chin and looked up at her. "You're not lying are you?" he asked quietly, his voice filled with resignation and anger. "Because, you know, if you are lying, I think I just might kill you."
Hermione, having no reason to believe he was insincere, swallowed nervously. "I'm telling you the truth, Malfoy. I took the test this morning, and I'm going to St. Mungo's after we leave here to confirm it," she said quietly, wanting to reach out and comfort him, but restraining herself, knowing he would not appreciate the gesture.
Malfoy stood so quickly that Hermione fell back against the desk behind her. "You can't do that," he snapped, his hand cutting in front of him in a motional of denial.
After her momentary shock from his action passed, she stood, her fear forgotten in the face of his irrational behavior. "I believe I can, and I will. I need to have a healer –"
"No," he interrupted coldly, stepping forward so there was only a breath of space between them. "I'm telling you that you can't –"
"And who are you to tell me what to do!" she screamed, pushing on his chest to give her a little breathing room. He didn't budge a centimeter.
He was silent for several moments, and Hermione could see the anger building in his mercury eyes. "I am the father of that child, if what you are telling me is true," he bit out between clenched teeth.
She just looked at him, disbelief written on her face. "What do you mean, if what I'm telling you is true?" she snapped back.
His glare burned so much that Hermione felt she would burst into flame any moment. "How do I know that you didn't go crying back to Weasley the next day, taking him to bed for forgiveness, and the only reason you're here is to get money?" he growled in disdain.
The sound of her open palm of connecting with his cheek echoed in the empty room.
Harry glanced around at the artwork that covered the walls as he and Ron followed the goliath. He noticed with an odd sense of detachment that there were no portraits upon the walls. Why doesn't a family as narcissistic as the Malfoys would have pictures of themselves everywhere?
He was shaken out of his musings as the redhead nudged him lightly with his elbow. "Hey, mate," he whispered. "Do you think it was smart to leave her in there with him?" he asked, worry lacing his words.
The raven-haired boy shook his head. "No, but its what she told us to do, and Hermione always knows what she's doing."
Ron nodded, still looking unconvinced, and the two boys lapsed back into silence, both thinking the same thing. They were here because for once, she hadn't known what she was doing.
Reaching the dining hall, they stopped and stared around in amazement. The room was as large as the Great Hall, and the solitary table in the center was easily the length of one of the House tables.
"Wow," Harry mumbled.
A tiny, high-pitched voice interrupted his inspection of the room. The boys looked down and saw the same gray-green house elf that had greeted them at the door earlier. "Sirs, if you please be sitting, Tippy is serving lunch shortly," she said, bowing so low her nose touched the ground as she gestured to a pair of chairs that had been pulled out in the middle of the table.
Nodding, Harry mutely took the seat proffered, directly across from Goyle, who had already sat down.
Tippy disappeared through a set of double doors on the opposite side of the hall, and the three boys sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes.
Finally, Ron broke it with a nervous question. "So… um… Where… Where's Crabbe?"
The behemoth, who had been reaching for his water, tensed and leveled a glare upon the redhead that would have made Voldemort cower.
"He's dead."
The simple statement, spoken with such hate, caused Harry to flinch. "Oh, I… I'm so–"
Rising from his seat, his gaze shifted to Harry. "Don't you dare say you're sorry," he said in a tone of voice that sent shivers down the Boy-Who-Lived's spine. "Because you're not.
"You sit there," he snapped, pointing at him forcefully. "You keep your mouth closed, and when Granger and Draco have finished, you leave."
He returned to his seat stiffly, obviously trying to keep his anger in check, and Harry and Ron traded slightly nervous looks.
Having faced down Voldemort several times, Harry didn't think he could be this frightened by a seventeen year-old boy, but in the face of that anger, and his knowledge of the other boy's fighting prowess, he found himself genuinely concerned for his safety.
But, swallowing his fear, Harry looked up at Goyle again. "Still, I'm sorry."
He was being held a foot in the air before he had even registered that Goyle was over the table.
"Why? Why the hell are you sorry?" he screamed, his face a mere inch from the raven-haired boy's. "Do you feel pity for me? For Draco? For Crabbe? Well? Why are you sorry?"
"Master Goyle, you know Master Malfoy doesn't like Master Goyle losing his temper."
Harry looked over the other boy's shoulder and saw the little elf standing there calmly, food having already been set out.
With something between a sigh and a strangled scream, the large teen dropped him into his chair and turned to make the long trek around the table back to his chair.
"Enjoy!" Tippy said cheerfully after Goyle had taken his seat.
"How dare you," she sneered, glaring at the blond.
Malfoy, who had been facing the door from the sudden impact of her hand, turned back to her, his eyes glowing with a fire that made her instantly regret her actions.
"I dare, because when someone is in a position of power and money, as I am, it is a natural question," he snarled, his hands balled into fists.
"You really are nothing more than a self-serving, insufferable git," she spat, covering her fear with bravado.
His expression changed suddenly, and he smiled sinisterly as he stepped away and spread his hands. "Born and bred."
Hermione shivered from the tone of that statement. She watched nervously as he walked around his desk and sat, picking up a quill and what looked like a financial report of some kind.
Her eyes widened as she stared at him, shocked the sudden realization that he had just dismissed her. "We are not finished!" she screamed, ripping the quill out of his hand.
Calmly, he opened a drawer in his desk and retrieved another, dipped it into an inkpot, and proceeded to make several marks on the parchment in front of him, effectively ignoring her.
Her anger mounted until she set her hands on his desk and pushed everything off of it. "Why are you acting like I'm not here?" she screamed again. She knew she was being irrational, but this was not going at all the way she had pictured on her way over.
Rude, mean, spiteful, angry Malfoy she could deal with.
Indifferent Malfoy, she could not.
With the irritating calm he was now radiating, he leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, looking the way he had when the discussion had began. "If you can't sit quietly and listen to reason, Granger, then I have no reason to continue this discussion."
Once more, she stared at his in disbelief. "Listen to reason?" she asked, incredulous to his assuming attitude. "It's reasonable for a pregnant woman to not see a healer?"
"That is not what I said!" he yelled, standing and slamming his hands on the desk in front of him, startling Hermione so much that she fell into the chair behind her. "If you could shut up for two bloody minutes, you'll understand what I was saying before you interrupted me!"
Frightened by the anger rolling off the blond, she nodded mutely.
Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he continued in a much calmer voice. "You can't go to St. Mungo's. Death Eaters have been planted there, and if you go in for a pregnancy check-up, you might as well get out the red and white paint and draw the target yourself."
Wishing, not for the first time, that she had as much control over her expressions as he did, her eyes widened once more. "I never –"
"I'm not finished!" he snapped, frightening her back into silence.
When he seemed satisfied she wouldn't interrupt, he began again. "Another reason you can't see a healer is because they have spells that can discover the paternity of a child," he explained, gesturing with his hands as if he were giving a lecture. "It is required by Ministry law that both the mother and father are recorded on a child's certificate of birth, even if the mother does not know, or wish to know, the identity of the father."
He stopped and gave her a pointed look. "The target gets a little bigger, then, because you're carrying the Malfoy heir, and, in addition, one gets painted on my back as well."
Hermione suddenly felt weighed down by everything Malfoy said. While she had thought about what was going to happen, she hadn't thought of the implications this would have on a grander scale. She bowed her head and began crying as he continued.
"Now, you have the Death Eaters and the ministry on your back, as do I. But, not only that, there's my father, who will do everything in his power to kill you to keep his bloodline pure," he said, his tone matter-of-fact.
"And I will have to stand before the Dark Lord, and face his wrath."
Her head shot up at these words, and fear overrode her grief. "What?" she asked weakly.
Sighing, he fell into his chair again. "You said you had figured out my allegiance, correct?" he asked, defeated. At her nod, he inclined his head as well. "If word got out that I had gotten you, a dear friend of Harry "The World Bows at My Feet" Potter, pregnant, do you think I would survive explaining that to the Dark Lord?" he asked wearily.
She shook her head numbly. "What do we do then?" she asked desperately. She was feeling more and more as if she were possessed by a weak and indecisive crybaby, instead of the strong and brilliant girl she normally was.
Leaning forward, he crossed his arms on his desk and looked at her sternly. "You go to one of those muggle healers. What are they called?" he paused, unsure.
"Doctors," she supplied, a little amused despite herself.
He nodded in confirmation. "Yes, doctors. Anyway, go to a doctor, have them check you out. Then…"
When Draco entered the dining hall some time later, he was surprised to see that the food had remained relatively untouched, especially with the legendary appetites of Goyle and Weasley. The three boys were all sitting in a tense silence, and he saw the male portion of the Golden Trio jump slightly when he opened the door.
"Potter, Weasley," he began, nodding shortly to each of the boys in turn as they stood. "Granger is waiting for you in foyer. There is a fireplace there you can floo from. Tippy will escort you."
In an instant, the little elf was at his side. "This way please, this way," her high voice rang as she turned and walked out the door he had just entered.
The two Gryffindors walked past him, both leveling angry glares as they did. Draco sneered in response.
Once they were gone, he looked over to his friend, who had stood and was making his way around the table toward him.
"What was that about, Draco?" he asked when he reached the blond.
Shaking his head with a sigh, the Slytherin Prince turned amused eyes upon his friend. "We have a very large problem, mate."
For his part, the younger boy only looked on, confused, as Draco began to laugh. "What…?"
As he began to voice his questions, the blond stopped laughing and walked away, calling over his shoulder as he did. "Grab your cloak, we're going out."
"Where to?" the larger boy asked, hurrying after his friend.
Draco paused only long enough to look back and flash a charming smile. "I thought Paris would be a great place to celebrate my impending fatherhood," he said with a sardonic chuckle.
Goyle stopped cold.
"What?"
Author's Note
This would have been posted two days ago, but ffnet wouldn't let me upload for some reason.
Bastards.
Anyway, I know that was a short one, but it said what needed to be said. I think I might be spoiling you all, getting these chapters out so quickly, but hey, what can you do, eh?
Then again, I might be the one being spoiled with all your wonderful reviews. I'm honestly amazed at how motivated I become when I look at my account and see ten new reviews (hint, hint).
I kept that tantrum scene generally in tact, seeing as how so many of you said you were looking forward to it, and I do so hope you enjoyed it.
Next will be the return to Hogwarts, and it is generally done, except for a little proofreading. Expect it in the next couple of days.
As always,
Thank you for reading,
Damien J. Frost.