A/N: Still haven't decided if I'm participating in Nanowrimo but, if I do, obviously my November updates will be less frequent. We'll see … but I was also hoping to finish this before New Year's … a decision must be made!
:-)
Draco stood outside of the Grangers home with his father, trying to muster up the courage to knock. He knew he had put off telling Wesley and Emily about Hermione for far too long, but that only made this even more difficult. They were going to hate him. He was sure of it.
"Are you ready, Son?" asked Lucius, putting his hand on Draco's shoulder.
Draco shook his head. But would he ever be?
The two of them stepped forward until they were standing on the doorstep. Draco took several deep breaths before lifting his fist and knocking.
A good thirty seconds passed before the door opened. Wesley was standing on the other side. He took one look at Draco and Lucius, and gasped before stepping outside and shutting the door behind him.
"Where is my daughter?" he asked. "Why has she not been answering our calls?"
Draco cast his eyes shamefully to the ground.
"Dear God, is she …" Wesley brought his hands up to his mouth.
"No," Lucius said quickly. "Your daughter is not dead."
"Then where is she?" he asked desperately.
Draco sighed and looked up, immediately met with familiar amber eyes. "We don't know," he said.
"You don't know …"
"Someone has taken her," added Lucius. "We have dozens of wizards and witches searching for her but, so far, we have had no luck."
"How long has she been gone?" Wesley asked, his hands slowly lowering from his mouth.
"Just over two weeks," answered Draco. Two weeks, one day, thirteen hours, fifty-two minutes, and thirty-four seconds. Thirty-five. Thirty-six. But who was counting?
"Two weeks?" screeched Wesley, turning red in the face. "What the hell took you so long to get here? We should have been informed the moment it happened!"
"I was hoping we would find her before we had to worry you," said Draco, looking back to the ground.
"I'm always worried! Ever since she got accepted into your bloody world I've never stopped worrying! And then with the events of late …"
Unable to control himself any longer, Wesley burst into tears right in front of them. Draco felt like joining him, but something inside of him kept him from doing so. He knew he had to stay strong. Hermione would want him to. For her parents.
"We are going to get her back," Draco said confidently.
Wesley looked up at him.
"I swear to you. I will not rest until she is home safe."
The door opened and Emily Granger peeked out, her eyes widening slightly when she saw their guests. "Draco, Lucius, what are you … Wesley, what's wrong?"
Wesley wiped his eyes. "Something has happened, Emily."
"What is it?" she asked, her eyes darting between men. "Where's Hermione?"
No one answered.
Her eyes stopped on her son-in-law. "Draco, where is my daughter?"
Draco could tell a million people what had happened and it wouldn't make it any easier. Actually, each time he did so was more excruciating than the last. But he had to keep doing it, since it was obvious that Hermione's mother feared the worst. He had to let her know there was hope.
"I do not know where she is," he said hollowly. "Two weeks ago we got in a fight and she left to stay the night at the Potters. Only, they weren't home and she ended up going to her office at the Ministry instead. No one knows what happened to her after that."
"What do you mean, no one knows?" Emily cried. "Where could she have gone? Dear Lord, has someone taken her?"
Draco sighed and nodded. "Hermione and I … we have some enemies. We angered a lot of people by getting married, and there is this prophecy …"
"A prophecy?" asked Wesley. "What ridiculous thing doesn't your world have?"
"Santa Claus?" said Draco, trying to lighten the mood. The joke fell short.
"I want to know everything," demanded Emily, opening the door wider. "You come in here right now and tell us about this 'prophecy' and why it has your people so angry. I want to know why they saw it necessary to take my daughter. And then you better damn well tell me what you plan to do to find her!"
Draco and Lucius stepped inside and followed Emily and Wesley into the dining room, where they proceeded to tell them everything. As it turned out, Wesley hadn't told his wife about what had happened to him, and a mild argument resulted from it. Luckily, Lucius got them back on track by reminding them of what was important, and that was Hermione.
"Draco, how … how is it that you're sure she's alive?" asked Emily, fidgeting nervously with her hands on the table, obviously afraid that the answer was 'I'm not'.
"I have a clock," Draco answered, reaching for his pocket watch, but quickly slipping it back in his pocket, realizing it was probably best for them not to see Hermione's name pointed at 'MORTAL PERIL'. "It was a wedding gift from Arthur and Molly Weasley. It tells us where the other is."
"Then why don't you use that to find her?" Wesley exclaimed, like it was the most brilliant idea in the world.
"Unfortunately, it's a bit vague," said Draco. "'Work', 'home', those sorts of things. But she is still on it, and Arthur assures me that as long as her name is there, she is alive."
"And I assure you, we are not taking this matter lightly," added Lucius. "Hermione will come home. And, I am not sure if this makes you feel better or worse, but we have someone keeping an eye on you as well. To guarantee your safety."
"So no one makes us float and tries to drop us from fifty feet in the air?" asked Emily, looking at her husband with narrow eyes.
"Something like that," said Lucius, trying to smile.
"What the hell is the albino hippie doing here?"
They all turned to see Regina standing in the entrance to the dining room with a pair of scissors in her hand. Lucius moved his chair so he was further away from her.
"Mother," said Wesley, rising from his chair. "When did you wake from your nap?"
"Oh, just a few moments ago," she said, never taking her eyes off of Lucius's hair. "And it's a good thing I bloody did. It's already almost two o'clock!"
"Oh … sorry," said Wesley, looking down to the ground.
"Were you just going to let me sleep through my bloody date, Emma?"
Emily rolled her eyes. "It wasn't my job to wake you, Regina. It was your son's."
"And you bloody distracted him! Don't deny it! I know you did!"
"You caught me."
"Who is your date with, Regina?" Draco asked curiously.
"What's with the damn formalities? I'm your grandmother now, mini albino, and you will call me as such!"
"Umm, all right … Grandmother," Draco said through clenched teeth.
A knock came at the door.
Regina smiled. "Guess you will find out soon enough."
She pranced to the door and opened it. Draco let out a small gasp of surprise when Madam Rosmerta entered with her father, who was dressed in his nicest robes and a pointy hat. He and Regina gave each other bunny kisses.
Everyone grimaced at the sight, but none more than Draco. Old people were truly revolting.
"How long have they been seeing each other?" he asked, his expression not fading.
"After your wedding, he started sending her owls," answered Emily. "Luckily, we were able to catch the things and give her the letters ourselves."
"Those bloody creatures really don't want to give their mail up to anyone but the recipient," said Wesley. "I've got a few scars from a particularly fierce encounter." He showed them all the pecks on his arms. They weren't pretty.
"I wasn't aware you were going to be here, Draco," said Rosmerta, entering the dining room. She didn't acknowledge Lucius's presence in the least, but she took a good look around at everyone else. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes, fine," said Draco. "I'm just … updating."
"Oh." Rosmerta took another good look around. "Perhaps I should take the lovebirds out for a walk. Is there somewhere Muggles like to go around here?"
"There's a park around the corner," said Emily. "Sometimes Regina likes to go there and feed the ducks. I'll get you some bread." She stood up and walked into the kitchen, returning less than a minute later with a loaf in hand that she handed to Rosmerta. "Just go out the door and turn right. Regina knows the way."
Rosmerta nodded before turning to Draco. "If you're not here when I get back, I was hoping to get the chance to talk to you since I couldn't make it to your meeting on Friday. I'm coming into town next Wednesday for my father's checkup. Would you mind if I stopped by your office?"
"That would be fine," Draco said.
Rosmerta did her best to smile at him, but it was closely followed by a sigh. "Then I will see you Wednesday."
She walked towards the front of the house and guided her father and Regina, who were skipping hand-in-hand, out the door.
"Meeting?" asked Wesley, raising his eyebrows.
Draco nodded. "Yes, we gathered together everyone we know we can trust and setup a plan to search for Hermione."
"We have a few leads," said Lucius, "namely thanks to everything that happened with you, Wesley, and Harry Potter and a few other Aurors are visiting all of their homes in hopes of scoping out any suspicious activity. They officially began this morning."
"Scoping out suspicious activity?" repeated Emily. "Can't they just barge down bloody doors and look for her?"
"I am afraid not," said Lucius.
"Hermione once explained to me that Aurors are somewhat like Muggle detectives, if that puts anything in perspective for you," added Draco. Though he had, admittedly, spaced out when she began to give a thorough explanation about what it was 'detectives' did. Still, it had to have meant more to them than it did to him.
"We would like to go more into detail about the measures we are taking for your daughter but, I'm afraid, the less you know the better."
"And why is that?" asked Wesley, leaning forward. It wasn't any sort of accusation, he just really was curious.
"Some wizards and witches, the most powerful ones, are capable of penetrating minds, and Muggle minds tend to be the easiest of targets," said Lucius.
"Now, penetrating minds," said Wesley, "what does that mean exactly?"
"Is that like mind reading?" asked Emily.
"Mind reading, mind probing, mind manipulating … I suppose that is a simple way of describing it."
"Mind manipulating?" Wesley and Emily said together, their eyes widening.
"Would they try to do something like that to Hermione?" asked Wesley.
"Chances are, they already have," said Lucius. "But Draco and I had previously trained her on how to protect herself. The fact that she is not already back with us, probably means that she was successful in blocking them."
Wesley and Emily both let out a breath of relief.
A clock chimed above their mantel in the sitting room. It was half past two. That was funny. Draco could have sworn he silenced all of their clocks. He got up to investigate.
"We should really be going," said Lucius, looking at the time. "There is a lot to be done for the sake of your daughter."
"Is this clock new?" Draco asked from the sitting room.
"I don't think so," Emily said vaguely.
"You will keep us informed?" said Wesley, rising from his chair as Lucius did.
"Of course we will," Lucius answered. "I will make sure that either Draco or myself stops by regularly." He paused and sighed. "I can only imagine what the two of you are going through. During the war, I was separated from Draco and was absolutely sick with worry. Was he alive, was he hurt? I knew nothing and felt absolutely helpless as a result."
"But you weren't helpless," said Wesley, looking down sorrowfully at the table. "We actually are. I desperately want to help you, but I know I can't. I just … I want my daughter to be all right."
Wesley's fists clenched as tears streamed down his face and onto the table. Emily went over and wrapped her arms around him. The two of them cried into each other's shoulders.
"Specialis Revelio!" Draco called from the other room.
Lucius turned around and walked into the sitting room curiously. When he arrived, Draco was tossing the clock into the fireplace and blasting it to dust. The 'boom' was so loud, it had Wesley and Emily screaming and running into the room.
"Draco, what in Salazar Slytherin's name are you doing?" demanded Lucius.
Draco turned, his eyes burning with rage. "I silenced all of the clocks in this house the first time I came here. That was not one of them."
"Perhaps we purchased it since then," Wesley said vaguely. He looked at Emily and they shrugged at each other.
"What happened when you used the Revelaspell?" asked Lucius.
"Nothing," said Draco, "but when I opened it, it was chock-full of Felenum."
Lucius gasped, causing Wesley and Emily to do the same.
"Please tell me you did not just use fire on it, Draco!" Lucius shouted.
"Of course not! Do you see any remnants in there? I destroyed the whole damn thing!"
Lucius sighed with relief. "Good."
"What is Fele - uhh … Fellnumb?" asked Wesley.
"Felenum," corrected Draco. "It's a poisonous plant. If you had had any fires, the smoke would rise and, when combined, it would have released toxins into the air. Whoever inhales it dies instantly."
Wesley and Emily gasped again.
"Well, I'm certainly glad it hasn't been cold enough for a fire recently," said Wesley, wobbling over to the sofa and collapsing into it.
"I don't understand. Why are we targets?" asked Emily, falling down beside her husband.
"Hermione must be doing something they do not like," said Lucius almost proudly. "They probably just wanted the threat in place. If they wanted you dead then they would have had you build a fire the moment the clock was in place."
"I'm going to talk to the Minister right now and tell him what a damn lousy job his 'friends' are doing." Draco stormed towards the door.
"Draco, wait," said Lucius, stepping in his path. "Let me deal with Kingsley. You are supposed to be meeting that Loony -"
"Luna -"
"- girl in twenty minutes."
Draco's nostrils flared. "Fine. But neither of us is leaving here until we have done a thorough inspection." He took off into the kitchen.
Lucius turned to the Grangers and smiled slightly. "I believe I will take the upstairs."
Wesley and Emily were still in too much shock to really notice him leave. They sat there, dumbfounded for a moment before Emily asked, "When did we get that clock, dear?"
Wesley shrugged. "Dunno. Did we have it when the Fosters came over for dinner last week?"
"Don't think so … I don't think so."
A pause.
"Uhh …Wesley?"
"Yeah."
"When did we meet the Fosters, again?"
"Huh." Wesley thought about this. "You know, I have absolutely no idea."
XXX
Several hours later, Draco sat in his kitchen with Luna and Rolf. They were eating the chicken dinner she had cooked - which was fairly normal for her, minus the Dirigible Plum sauce - while talking strategy about ways to open that damn door without Hermione.
They had just been discussing possibly looking more into the history of Charidon Gappelish as a person, instead of just his stories, when a knock came at the door.
Draco groaned before getting up to answer it. He was having too many damn visitors lately. How was he supposed to sulk properly with all of this bloody traffic?
Draco threw open the door a bit forcefully, and was slightly stunned to find Goyle on the other side.
"Two visits in one weekend. Things with Daphne must be bloody awful," he said, opening the door so Goyle could enter.
"You have no idea," said Goyle, looking around nervously.
"Don't worry. My father's not here."
"Oh, lovely. More company," said Luna, standing in the entrance to the kitchen. "Shall I set another place?"
Goyle's eyes darted back and forth between her and Draco curiously before he said, "Uhh, no thank you. I can only stay for a moment."
Luna shrugged and smiled before heading back into the kitchen.
Goyle looked at Draco and raised his eyebrows.
"You can put those bloody things down. She and her boyfriend are just helping me with something and, for some reason, everyone seems to feel this strange need to make me dinner lately."
"Do you eat when they don't?" Goyle asked.
"No," Draco answered. "And I do not appreciate your quick judgments. I am not the same person I used to be, Goyle. Only one woman does it for me anymore and, until I have her back, it looks like I'm abstinent." Draco trembled at the thought.
"Sorry," said Goyle. "Don't know why my mind even went there."
"So did you need something?" asked Draco, crossing his arms.
"Uhh … what?" Goyle's palms were sweating. He was having a hard time focusing.
"Well, you said you couldn't stay, so I am assuming you didn't come here for a drink."
"No, I just …" What was his excuse again? "I was just in the area and … well, you seemed pretty down the other night so I … umm, thought I'd check -"
"Is this about Potter?"
Goyle's eyes widened. "Pot -"
"Look, I know he stopped by your house earlier today. He told me he was going to do it," said Draco.
"I know, it's just -"
"I hope you didn't take it personally. They really are visiting everyone."
"Yes, I understand that and -"
"I don't know how I feel about your bloody wife, but you know I trust you, Goyle."
Goyle turned white. "Uhh … you do?"
"Of course I do. We've been through bloody hell and back together. Why wouldn't I? Just because my father - uh, Goyle, are you feeling all right?"
Goyle shook his head and covered his mouth. "Loo?"
"Yeah, right here," said Draco, opening a door.
Goyle looked at it and then at him. "More private?" he asked, already breaking out into a cold sweat.
"You don't have to be shy around me, Goyle. For a couple of months there, Hermione was vomiting constant -"
Oh, Merlin, Draco really had no clue. Goyle upchucked a little.
"Up the stairs and to the right," Draco said quickly. "In the guestroom."
Goyle sprinted up the stairs, through the first door on the right and into the washroom, slamming the door behind him. He barely made it to the toilet before he was vomiting … well, he wasn't sure what he was vomiting. The only thing he had had that day was the tea when Potter was over.
As soon as it passed, Goyle stayed on the ground and leaned back against the wall, staring mindlessly up at the ceiling. What the hell was he doing here? Why wasn't he brave enough to just go downstairs and tell Draco what he knew? If it was just his life he was risking, he might do it. But it was his entire family's lives too, through blood and marriage.
But he wasn't giving up just yet. For now, all he had to do was keep Hermione alive. Hopefully, they could figure the rest out later. He didn't know what exactly there was to figure out, but he really hoped there was some way this could end positively for everyone.
Goyle let out a wail and rubbed at his sweaty face. He was living in a fucking fantasy world if he thought Hermione could live and come back to Draco with their potential child, without his entire family suffering for what they had done to her. It was impossible.
This was never going to fucking work. How the hell was he supposed to get a hair from Draco, anyway? He should just forget about all of that and get the bloody hell out of … Goyle's eyes stopped on something on the counter. He got on his knees and crawled over to it, his heart beating ferociously fast as he picked up a comb. Draco's comb. There were small, platinum hairs all over it.
Why was Draco's comb in the guestroom?
Who bloody cares? It was a fucking miracle and he was going to take it!
Goyle pulled a small phial out of his pocket and filled it with at least a dozen hairs, just to be safe. Once it was secure in his pocket, he looked in the mirror and wiped the sweat off of his face. He took out his wand and freshened his breath before opening the door and -
"AHH!"
Luna was standing on the other end, smiling with a spoon and a bottle in her hand. "Draco said you weren't feeling well, so I brought you some medicine."
"That's quite all right. I feel much - Mmff …"
Goyle didn't have a chance to finish that sentence before Luna had filled her spoon with a green liquid and stuffed it in his mouth.
"All better!" she said, only smiling wider. "Now you must come down and have some dinner. I would imagine your stomach is feeling pretty empty after all that."
"No, really, I'm fine."
"I insist!"
Luna took his arm and practically pulled him down the stairs and into the kitchen. She plopped him in a chair beside Draco and went to work on making him a plate.
"All better, mate?" asked Draco, who was currently eating something chocolaty and delicious looking.
"Uh, yeah … Look, I should really be goi -"
"What's the rush?" asked a wizard he had never seen before from the other side of the table.
"My - my wife is making dinner," he answered. "She will be terribly upset if I spoil it by -"
"Who gives a fuck what Daphne thinks," spat Draco. "Miss bloody dinner. And, better yet, cheat on her while you're at it. Give her a taste of her own fucking medicine."
Rolf looked down at his dessert and pretended not to hear.
"I can't imagine cheating would help his stomach any," said Luna, putting a plate of chicken and vegetables in front of Goyle. "I would just stick with potions and healing charms."
Now Rolf was trying really hard not to laugh by stuffing his fork into his mouth. It didn't really work.
Goyle looked down at the food and sighed. There was no getting out of this. And, worst of all, those damn hairs were burning a hole in his pocket while he sat there. If guilt were flames then he'd be bloody fiendfyre. This was hands down, the worst day ever.
XXX
When Goyle arrived in his house through the fireplace, his parlor was empty. He immediately headed for the kitchen, where he knew Pansy would be working on the potion. She was in there alone, stirring the cauldron. Her eyes drew up as he entered the room.
"That took longer than expected," she said. "Did you get it?"
Goyle took out the phial of hairs and slammed it on the counter. "They fucking fed me, Pans. They gave me bloody leftovers!" He tossed the container he was holding beside the phial and plopped onto a barstool across from where she was working.
"Oh, good. I'm starving!" Pansy said, grabbing the container, pulling out a piece of chicken and using her wand to heat it up. She bit into it, her face immediately brightening. "Oh my Merlin, that's delicious. Don't tell me Draco -"
"No," said Goyle, shaking his head. "It was that girl. Loony, loopy … Bloody I don't know! The weird one!"
Pansy stared at him blankly.
"You know, the blonde with the earrings you always made fun of in school."
She blinked. "I have no idea who you're talking about."
Goyle rolled his eyes.
"Why was she there?" asked Pansy, stirring with one hand and holding her piece of chicken with the other.
"I don't bloody know. Cooking dinner? It was her and her boyfriend. I didn't ask for specifics. I just wanted to get the hell out of there!"
"Okay, Goyle, you really need to calm down. The situation really isn't that dire."
"Isn't that dire?" he repeated, his eyes bulging. "My oldest friend's - your ex-boyfriend's wife has been held prisoner in my basement for the past two bloody weeks, and everyone we know can't fucking wait to kill her! How is that not that dire?"
"I admit, it doesn't look good. But if my assumptions are correct, and I'm pretty sure they are, then we're fine. We'll have, like, six months to figure something out."
"What exactly is it that you think is going to happen in six months, Pans? That they're just going to let her waltz on out of here, carrying a baby?"
Pansy blushed slightly and looked down at the cauldron. "I … I don't -"
"Or do you not care about what happens to Hermione at all? Just Malfoy's bloody child."
Her blush deepened.
Goyle's lip curled. "You're just as sick as the rest of them."
Pansy threw the piece of chicken down and stopped stirring the potion in the same swift motion. She stared into Goyle's eyes and said, "Look, I don't know what I bloody feel right now, all right? Obviously, I don't want anyone to die, but it seems a bit inevitable, don't you think? I mean, if you want to get her out of here then, by all means, do it. But, just remember, while you might be spared from Azkaban for helping her, the rest of us won't be so lucky. I might be given a minimal sentence, but Daphne - your wife - she was bloody there. She participated in this bullshit, and she will be punished for it."
Goyle took several deep breaths to compose himself, but still kept his gaze on her.
"Now, I know you bloody love her - even though I'm not sure why, since she's become such a filthy slag ever since the two of you got married - but you do, and you don't want her to be punished for this."
"Maybe she deserves what she bloody gets." Goyle's fists clenched.
Pansy raised her eyebrows. "Well, there's something I never thought I'd hear you say. That visit to Draco must have really done a number on you."
Goyle chuckled halfheartedly. "He thinks I should cheat on her. Give her a taste of her own medicine."
"Well, he always was smart. Maybe you should listen to him." Pansy smirked and resumed her stirring.
"Who would I bloody cheat with?"
"I'd be up for it." Her smirk widened. "That is, if I thought you'd ever actually go through with it. Which, we both know, you won't."
Goyle blushed. "You don't know tha -"
"All right then. I'll make this damn easy for you."
Pansy put down her ladle, walked over to Goyle and crashed her lips into his. The action was such a shock for him he nearly fell off his barstool.
When Pansy pulled away, she smiled triumphantly. "There! You've officially cheated. Well done."
"I don't think that's what he -"
"Well, of course it's not what he meant. Baby steps, Goyle." She went back around the counter and resumed her stirring. "I'll tell you what. Yours and Daphne's wedding anniversary is coming up next weekend, and, chances are, I'm going to be bloody stuck here watching Granger's ass again. So, on the eve of the anniversary of the day she first cheated on you, I would like to invite you to come to my bed, not hers."
"I … uhh …"
Pansy rolled her eyes. "Oh, calm down, Goyle. I'm just putting it out there. It's not like I actually expect you to do it." She paused. "But you should."
"Uhh … where …?" He was going to try and ask where Pansy would be sleeping, to try and prove her wrong about not doing it, but then something more important crossed his mind. "Where's Hermione?"
"She's in the greenhouse with Ethan, picking me some ingredients."
"Ethan …" The name sounded familiar. "The vampire?"
Pansy nodded.
"Are you fucking kidding me? You left her alone with a bloody vampire?"
"Well, it was either him or Blaise. Neither Daphne or your father cared to volunteer."
"Are you insane?"
"Oh, relax. Ethan won't do anything. I actually think he has a little crush on her."
"Un-fucking-believable!"
"Well, you're free to go and get them now, if you want. I can't do anything more to this thing until they're back, anyway. It isn't just something from the father I need. Her blood is also an ingredient." She picked up the phial of platinum hairs and started to laugh. "Hey, wouldn't that be incredibly awkward if Draco wasn't the father? I wonder what would happen to the potion."
Goyle smirked. "Somehow, I don't think you have to worry about that. I get the feeling Hermione is a one wizard kind of girl."
"Still, I wonder how slags take pregnancy tests. Do they just have to get a plethora of hairs and do it over and over again until they have a match?"
"I don't even understand why the potion needs the father's hair in the first place. It makes no sense."
"It's magic, not Muggle science, Goyle. If you want it to make sense then go live in their bloody world."
Goyle nodded and continued to stare at her.
"Aren't you going to go get her?" Pansy asked after a long moment.
"Oh, right!"
Goyle stood up from his barstool and walked out of the kitchen. He had never been in the greenhouse before but he, of course, knew where it was. When he walked inside, he spotted Hermione and the vampire near the back. She was holding several sprigs of flowers while he talked animatedly about some plant he was holding. It looked like a midnight-blue lotus flower with small twinkles on it that resembled the stars.
From what the vampire was saying, each leaf apparently mimicked a constellation. When he realized that one of the leaf's showed the constellation, Draco, he pulled it away, but not before Hermione saw. She immediately burst into tears.
Goyle sighed before walking over to them. "Pansy's ready for you, Hermione."
Hermione looked up and started crying harder. "You just saw him?"
Goyle reluctantly nodded.
And harder again. "I don't want to do this. I don't want to know for sure without him here. Please, Goyle, don't make me go in there."
"Your life's on the line, Hermione," he said. "You kind of don't have a choice."
Suddenly, her tears ceased and she wiped her cheeks clean. She scowled at him. "Fine. Then let's get this the hell over with!"
Goyle watched her, confused, while she headed for the exit of the greenhouse. Were pregnant women bipolar? Because she certainly seemed that way. Sad and crying one minute, angry and seeming like she was going to punch him the next. He had better keep his distance.
Ethan didn't seem frightened, though. He followed right after her, as cheerful as ever.
When they got back to the kitchen, Hermione walked up to Pansy and slammed the flowers she was carrying on the counter beside her. She then noticed the phial of hairs, picked it up and burst into tears again.
"Please, stop that," Goyle said uncomfortably.
While Hermione was distracted, Pansy took her hand and cut a small prick in her ring finger with a knife. She then held it over the cauldron and carefully squeezed out three small drops of blood before waving her wand and healing the wound. Once that was done, Hermione put down the phial and went to take a seat on one of the barstools. Ethan sat on the one next to her, leaving Goyle with no choice but to stand.
"Gregory, you're back." They all looked over to see Daphne standing in the doorway to the kitchen. "Why didn't you come get me?"
Goyle said nothing. He just continued to watch Pansy while she took one of Draco's hairs out of the phial and dropped it into the potion. It rumbled.
"It just needs to brew for about ten minutes," Pansy said, turning up the flames beneath it.
"Did you want me to make you some dinner?" asked Daphne, still trying to get Goyle's attention.
"I already ate," he said while Pansy grabbed his leftover chicken and took a big bite. "But maybe you should ask Hermione -"
"I don't want anything she's making," said Hermione, crossing her arms. "I'd rather starve."
"Guess that's my cue," said Pansy, disappearing into the pantry. She came back out a minute later with her arms full of food and went to work cooking.
Daphne started to take a step into the kitchen, but stopped when she saw the way Hermione was looking at her. "What's your problem, Mud -"
"I don't want you in here for this," Hermione said with her nose in the air. "Get out!"
Daphne gasped. "How dare you! This is my bloody house and I will not -"
"I said, get out!" Hermione shouted, jumping to her feet and storming towards her.
Daphne raised her wand.
Hermione smirked. "Go ahead. You already agreed to have me raped and killed once tonight. Might as well finish the bloody job."
"I - I don't want -"
"Fucking do it!" Hermione screamed, grabbing the tip of Daphne's wand and pointing it at her heart. "It's two little words. Very simple. Now, get on with it. Avada Ke -"
"Stop!" shouted Goyle, running over and hitting Daphne's wand away. "She says get out, Daphne, so I suggest you do it!"
"Why the hell are you on her side?" Daphne asked, turning red. "She's just a prisoner! I'm your wife!"
"Then start bloody acting like it and listen to me!" Goyle looked at her sternly and repeated, "Get out. I will come and find you later."
Daphne was on the verge of tears. But she nodded and exited, without looking at anyone as she did so.
"Way to go, Goyle!" said Pansy from the stove.
Hermione returned to her seat on the barstool without a word. Ethan grabbed her hand and squeezed it lightly.
When Pansy was finished cooking, she put the food in front of Hermione, but she didn't touch it. Her stomach was in too many knots to even consider eating right now.
Pansy returned to the boiling cauldron and turned off the flames. Once the potion became still, she picked up a sprig of an orange flower and held it over the cauldron.
She looked at Hermione. "Once I put this in, a cloud of smoke will rise. Orange means you're pregnant, white means you're not. Are you ready for this?"
Hermione shook her head and wiped her wet eyes. After several sniffles, she finally nodded.
Pansy threw in the flower and they all watched closely as it erupted and a cloud of orange smoke emerged. More tears fell down Hermione's cheeks as she finally accepted the truth. She was pregnant. There was no use denying it any longer.
Pansy frowned and looked down at the potion. "The color it takes on for the next minute tells me if it's a boy or a girl. Do you want to know?"
Hermione shook her head. "No. Not without Draco. If he can't be here for this then we at least need to find out the sex together."
Pansy nodded before going into a cabinet and pulling out a pewter cauldron. "On to potion number two," she said. "Day of conception. Once I get everything together, it takes twenty hours to brew, so we won't know until tomorrow evening." She looked over at a clearly distraught Hermione and her untouched food. "You can go to bed, if you would like. I don't need you here to brew this one."
"I don't much feel like going back in that cell," said Hermione, wiping her eyes again.
"And you shouldn't bloody have to," said Goyle. "You're pregnant. There's no way in hell I'm letting them make you sleep on that stone floor again."
Goyle left the kitchen and did not return for a good twenty minutes. When he did, Hermione had finally touched her food, but not much. Ethan had made her tea and she was currently sipping on it.
"Ready for bed?" he asked.
Hermione looked up from her mug and gave him a shallow nod. She got off of her barstool and she and Ethan followed Goyle out of the kitchen. He carried her food, even though it was very doubtful at this point that she was ever going to eat it.
Goyle led them through a few twists and turns down the halls before eventually stopping by a door. He opened it and held it for Hermione while she walked in, the vampire following closely behind her.
It was a very nice bedroom, complete with a large window, fireplace, and a comfy king-sized bed.
"This is where Draco slept when he stayed here," Goyle said. "The sheets have, of course, been washed since then, but no one has stayed in the bed since."
Hermione slowly walked into the room, running her free hand across every surface before stopping by the window and looking out of it. A small shed was the only thing blocking the clear view to the forest.
"Don't get any ideas. I bewitched the window so you won't be able to open or break it. And this fireplace isn't connected to the Floo."
Hermione smiled slightly. "I'm aware you're not an idiot, Goyle. Even if you aren't."
He nodded. "I'll leave you to it, then." He handed a key to Ethan. "Make sure you lock it every time you exit. No exceptions. My father says if we're not extremely careful, he'll gladly stick her back in the basement."
Ethan took the key and saluted him. "You're the boss."
As soon as Goyle was gone, Hermione put her tea on the nightstand and climbed into bed. If she imagined really hard, it still smelled a bit like Draco.
Ethan put her food down and helped her get under the covers. Through the narrow slits of her eyes, she noticed a door on the other side of the bed.
"Is that a washroom, Ethan?"
He went to the door and looked inside. "It is."
"Does it have a shower?"
He looked back at her and smiled. "It does."
"Oh, thank bloody Merlin," she said. "At least if I die tomorrow, I can do it while not smelling like I've been locked in a basement for two weeks."
"I don't think you smell so bad."
Hermione smiled into her pillow. "That's sweet, but I don't know enough about vampires to trust your nostrils."
"Are you actually going to sleep?" Ethan asked, moving closer to the bed.
"No."
"Do you want me to leave you alone?"
Hermione sighed. "No."
"All right, then." He climbed onto the bed beside her and ran his fingers through her hair. "I'm here if you need me."
"Thank you," she said before closing her eyes and weeping like no one was watching.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. Yet, here she was, pregnant and alone, praying to every witch, wizard and God out there that this child was conceived on the night of her wedding. Because, if it wasn't, she was starting to believe that all hope really was lost.
XXX
The next evening, Hermione was dragged into the kitchen, where everyone from the night before was waiting.
"So how does this potion work?" asked the woman in the cloak, creeping uncomfortably close to Pansy.
"Once I combine the pregnancy test potion with this new one," Pansy explained, "something significant from the night of conception will emerge from the cauldron. It will be up to Granger to tell us what it is."
"How will we know she's not lying?" asked Blaise, looking distrustfully at Hermione.
"We will give her Veritaserum," said Pansy, holding up a bottle. "We should be able to ask one good question before her Occlumency kicks in." She looked all around, her eyes stopping on Hermione's. "Are we ready?"
Hermione gave a slight nod while the woman in the cloak said, "Yes, yes. Get on with it."
Pansy picked up a small bottle, containing the required amount of yesterday's potion, and dumped it into the cauldron. They all waited several moments while it boiled and brewed, eventually spitting out two small nubs into Pansy's hands. She lifted them up to the light.
"What is it?" asked Daphne, leaning in closer, along with everyone else.
"I'm not sure," said Pansy. "They appear to be gold pins or something with the letter 'G' on them."
Hermione's heart stopped. She glanced at Goyle, who looked as relieved as she did. He met her eyes and smiled.
"No need for the Veritaserum," he said. "Those are cufflinks. They were her wedding gift to Draco and, I'd imagine, they were torn off of him that night."
"How do you know that, Gregory?" asked his father.
"Because I was there when he received them," Goyle answered. "I was a groomsman."
Everyone gasped.
"You can do that all you want, I really don't care," he said. "Draco asked and I said yes. You already knew Daph and I were there."
"You better get your damn loyalty straight, Mr. Goyle," said the woman in the cloak, "or else this next step is going to be all the more difficult."
Goyle looked at her and furrowed his brow. "Next step? What do you mean?"
"The prophecy is very clear. If we want to succeed then we cannot let the Malfoys raise this child. Someone from our side needs to do it."
"So?" he said, really hoping he wasn't getting this. He looked over at Hermione nervously.
"So, out of all of us here, there is really only one couple who can possibly raise this baby."
Now he glanced at Daphne. She looked just as surprised and sick as he did. "So … so you mean that …"
Hermione could just make out the woman in the cloak's close-mouthed smile. "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Goyle. You have just become future parents."
And with that, Goyle fainted.