III.
Millicent Bulstrode and Percy Weasley meet while Master is on a hunting trip with Dawlish and Mistress has her weekly chess match at Mrs. Belby's.
He can't hold back a gasp when he sees her, so different from the girl he vaguely remembered from his school days.
She's still her calm and collected self, but now there's a blaze smoldering behind her façade.
Millicent knows she's pregnant – she knew right away, as a Doll she has to take a M.P.T. (Magical Pregnancy Test, 100 infallible) after every encounter with her Owner.
When she saw the results, she almost gave herself away.
A furious, primeval scream rose within her, her hands itched to grab, tear and wreck everything in the next rooms.
Fortunately, her rationality caught up with her before she even parted her lips: after all, her pregnancy could be useful.
Now she wouldn't risk to be Reassigned or, worse, Dismissed, nor she would be Called to Duty.
She knew, or rather suspected from pieces of bawdy conversations she overheard while serving Master and his friends their after-dinner brandy and cigars, that other girls were still Called during their first months but Master McNair's games were way too dangerous and he knew it.
It must have been a great day when he brought his toys home – Merlin knows he had lots of fun with both of them, trying out all the things he certainly can't do to his lawful wife. She'd hex him straight into next month if he as much as suggested it.
Yes, happy as a pig in the mud. How fitting.
Schooling her features, Millicent placed the test result in an envelope and left it on McNair's desk before heading down in the kitchen to start her chores.
A couple of hours later, she had been summoned to the Masters' presence – standing there unmoving and demure as they carelessly discussed her future was one of the hardest things she had ever done. She felt cold sweat dripping down her back and all her fears right out in the open – there was too much at stake.
She was not afraid of McNair, but his wife was a whole different matter: if there was somebody who could have discovered her rouse, that was her.
Fortunately, she barely looked at her throughout the discussion. And neither of them had thought of restricting her access to the rest of the house.
It couldn't have gone better and she makes sure Nott and Weasley know.
She can still spy on her owners and, more importantly, she still has free access to the Manor's library.
She has been going through the huge collection of tomes since Susan's death, memorizing spells and hexes and sending them to her co-conspirators: it always pays to know exactly which weapons the enemy can employ and if Potter didn't want to get his hands dirty, they're definitely not averse to fighting fire with fire.
Nobody has noticed yet and Millicent doubts they ever will: McNair is not of the scholarly persuasion – in fact, this collection comes mainly from the Mistress' family, and no wonder since she used to be in Ravenclaw, but being the wife of a high-ranking Death Eater carries a lot of social obligations that leave her no time for reading.
The lighter workload is also welcome since it leaves her more time to think and distract herself from what's happening to her body.
There's so much to think about now that their rebellion is slowly growing – so much to plan, so much to consider, so many pieces to fit together and candidates to check.
They are also researching Muggle warfare and weapons – the last thing the elitists in power would think about.
It was Percy's idea – he and Theodore are studying guns, while she specializes in explosives.
Another advantage to being the servant is that now she knows the Manor better than her Masters.
As the first trimester rolls to a close, she finally learns that the being she's carrying – and whom she has been referring to as "It" – is actually a boy.
The news thrill McNair and inflates his ego for a job well done – of course, last time Millicent conceived a girl it was entirely her fault.
The proud mother doesn't feel particularly proud: she just hopes she won't feel so tired anymore and her head will stop aching.
But she starts thinking of the baby as he – a subtle change that at first goes unnoticed, mainly because the discovery has also seen the hatching of a plan.
As Millicent's belly grows, so does their organization and soon they can start preparing for their first action: C-4 packets start being smuggled into the house, she and Theodore argue about structures and position, Percy works himself into the ground trying to find his brother and Granger.
The second trimester is pretty hectic and she's more than happy for it.
She has never felt better in her whole life, she could go on forever but around December, her eighth month, climbing up and down the stairs becomes too uncomfortable.
The McNairs reluctantly excuse her from service and Millicent finds herself more or less confined in the attic – meaning that she still goes downstairs if she needs to, but only when both McNairs are out and not likely to show up for at least three hours.
The organization's communication system works very well, so Percy and Theodore keep her fully up to date, but she still feels left behind and idle.
She's stuck waiting with the baby, but at least she doesn't resent him – not him.
It's strange, but as much as she hates all the things this pregnancy did to her and her body, somehow she's got used to her baby.
That's how she calls him now – hers. Not McNair's or Voldemort's, just hers.
It surprises how possessive she has become – perhaps it's a reaction to the knowledge she'll be looking after him only until he's three, then he'll be shipped off to Hogwarts, where all children like him will grow up duly brainwashed and fanatically loyal to the Dark Lord. They are, after all, the new working class that will replace all those unsuitable half-bloods and Muggle-borns.
Millicent feels acrid bile raising in her throat every time she thinks about it – which is happening a lot lately.
Often, she also thinks about Susan.
She almost understands her now, but she still wonders how it was for her – if realization burned through her last shred of sanity or dawned on her gently.
Sometimes, Millicent feels sorry for her.
Merlin knows they were barely aware of each other's existence back at school and when Susan got pregnant, she became her servant as well – not to mention having to take her place as Master's chief toy, which was all but fair trade: Millicent was not as beautiful, not as fragile and not as entertaining as Susan, all facts McNair resented and didn't hesitate to take out on her.
But it was impossible to resent poor childlike Susan, who certainly had it harder than her.
Millicent tried to take care of her as much as she could, out of an impulse she neither understood nor regretted.
Often, Millicent misses her – but at the same time she's glad, truly glad that Master can't get his hands on her anymore.
She was an only child, so she's not really sure what it means to have a younger sister – but when she tries to think about it, it's Susan she sees, not one of her housemates.
The last two months drag by slowly, almost peacefully.
Then, everything seems to happen at once, starting with the birth of her son.
It's January 16th – she wakes up with the first contractions and ends up staying in bed the whole day, with the only help of the resident House Elf and a callous midwife who brought her apprentice along to make her practice on an expendable mother.
Luckily – or rather Weasley-ly, though she will never know how on Earth he managed to arrange that – the apprentice happens to be Sylvia Fawcett, an old friend from school and fellow-rebel who slips her potions against the pain while Mrs. Edgecombe focuses solely on the absolutely-not-expendable baby.
Around half past four, a loud cry echoes in the attic.
As Millicent nurses her baby for the first time, she marvels at his beauty and the lack of resemblance with McNair. Suddenly she realizes what she has brought into this world: not McNair's pureblood puppy, not even her baby, though he takes noticeably after her, but a human being, a little independent creature.
While Sylvia cleans up, she starts planning.
When the ex-Ravenclaw leaves, she will have quite a message to send to the other two – perhaps not quite clear, but they will understand.
Downstairs, preparations for the Naming Ceremony have already begun.
Cuddling her son close, Millicent stares at the wall with an unfocused gaze – but in her mind's eye she sees the wheels of fate slowly turning.
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