As always, enjoy

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Beauty is Beast

Chapter Eight

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~*.*~

Awaken the soul,

The little bud flowers in chasing the wind

When the fire is unleash

And casted into sin

~*.*~

The clouds overheard began to collect together in a monstrous storm. A single line of light ran through it like a powerful stream to wash away whatever was to come. It seemed to strike the ground, loud and thunderous that it shook the very space that it touched. The wind howled predatorily in the distance. The foliage rustled and the surrounding area grew deathly silent, as if anticipating and preparing for the inevitable. A sigh blew through the leaves and cascaded down upon them. Dark, embodying clouds to which signaled for a cause for alarm continued to gather and block out the sun. There had only been several other occasions when the weather and the Goddess ruling over nature became so disrupted. Whatever has been coming had arrived.

Narcissa's eyes scanned the sky. A dry thump formed in her throat. Never has she seen such foreboding forces at work; she could not rely only on her predispositions because she was not the only one who noticed the sky. Ms. Cole had also felt the stir around them and she was under the impression that she knew what was causing it.

The wind kicked up around her. Her skirts rustled in the wind and her hair flew every which way. She looked around inquiringly. The skies were displaying the strangest of oddities and it was unlike the ground to act accordingly to its touch.

Oh, yes. The storm was nearing.

Ms. Cole watched with horror as the scene transpired before her. Lord Lucius and Madame Maxime circled around each other, the forces of their magic lashing out like whips in front of them. It seemed to her that the spark that elicited form fathered by powerful deities were just the beginning of a frightful era. More dark clouds were rolling in and she let out a shallow gasp. Maxime flicked her wand and casted a dark sort of hue beam toward Lord Malfoy

In all her years, she has been accounted to read the signs. It was as if it were a warning, a small space in which to act. She knew that she must be scared, frightened, but from what she did not know. Hermione was a very special girl and to think that she was face to face with something more frightful was too unbearable. Her powers, her magic or whatever the bloody hell others wanted to call it was unstable. After all this time, it had yet to be pacified or even dealt with. She had to come clean.

"Lady Malfoy," she spoke urgently. "You must put a stop to your Lord's antics. I have children here who would become frightened if they see such raucous behavior and I cannot allow them to see it."

Narcissa slowly turned to face the older woman. "You believe him not to be safe?"

Of course she knew her lord was not safe. He would soon grow tired and demand their departure, but that did not seem viable. Lucius was a troubled man; even she could not stop him. She was quick to gather that something was not right, however. The prevailing wind, the caught torrent of the clouds- oh, yes. There was something transpiring against them and she had a rightful mind to find out what it was. The Lady looked imploringly at the older woman. She immediately noticed the distress and shook her head, as if to disillusion the image of what she was seeing. She could not believe what was happening; yet, even though, it had happened before, she still seemed to feel the same irked guidance that once introduced itself to her. She had to find out what and who was causing it

"I believe," she whispered insistently," that one of my children is in danger. These clouds… they have formed on several occasions. A great deal of stress could only elicit such a storm."

Lady Malfoy's eyes rose to the heavens and she let out a startled gasped. Dark, powerful clouds hung over them like a foreboding deity of nature. In its grasp it held such promise. She then turned back to the woman and whispered," Is it the girl?'

Ms. Cole nodded somberly. "It is."

"Why don't we make haste and see what on earth she is up to?" Lady Malfoy whispered. "Is she safe under such volatile conditions?"

"So it does not seem." Ms. Cole lifted her head again. "It has been a while since I have seen such formidable clouds. Hermione has not had an episode it some time." She then turned, eyeing Lady Malfoy suspiciously. "I do hope that your child is not the cause of this. Hermione might have been bullied and abused by the other children and I am not saying that your son is capable of doing such harm, but… I am just trying to look out for her and my children. She has no family, you see, and I would be terribly saddened if anything happened to her Lady Malfoy."

"No family, you say?"

The older woman nodded. "No family. They are dead."

"What has come of her parents?"

"No one knows for certain…" Ms. Cole said with a slight, unwavering frown. "It is rumored that she had been snatched from her home. Her parents were found in the burning rumble of what used to be her birth home. Nothing else remains."

Narcissa immediately turned her gaze to the Orphanage, her eyes widening in shock and horror. Who would have thought that one of the sweet little girls that dwelled in the building would possibly be capable of such weather changes? It was an absurd idea, but a believable one at that. She needed to go in there and find her son. She knew he could not be behind her treacherous powers, but who was to say that she had not awakened something in him?

The poor child. To go her whole life without the knowledge of what happened to her parents is an extraordinary thing to endure. A tragedy like no other, really. She had overcome so much. Ridicule, an outcaste to the lowest ranks of the society and human hierarchy. Who is to say she would survive any longer? What would come of her later in her misfortunate life?

"What is the cause of this triggering in the first place?" Narcissa asked, holding her breath. "Can it be reverted?"

"I am afraid I do not know." murmured the older woman. "Whatever it is causing it, I suspect it has to do with her magic, Lady Narcissa. There is something about her heritage that has been concealed for her protection

"I must go back." She turned to Ms. Cole. "I must find my son and see for myself. If there is something wrong, I shall alert the authorities."

"Why on earth would you do that" she quipped. "Hermione has done this before, but she had never harmed any of the children. Of course… I have had to call your… your equivalent to police officers."

"Aurors?"

"Yes, Ores."

Narcissa did not bother to correct the poor woman. Her main concern was the welfare of not only her child, but the other children as well.

A shared course of tension swept between them before the garden ignited with another flash of green. The flare had issued from Maxime's wand, this time immobilizing the wizard successfully. He fell to the ground with a loud thud and Narcissa let out a temperate whimper. Her Lord had been initially stunned, leaving him quite defenseless to the Headmistress' attacks. He lay on his side, his eyes closed, his breathing labored. He was alive. Just barely, especially with the amount of effort that it took to stun him into submission. Narcissa knew with just the right amount of spells, he would awaken and be back to his rightful self. She wished that he would be more willing to listen than he has been during their arrival to the estate.

The question as to why he had to forgo his basic preliminaries and tempt the Headmistress into a spar was placed well beyond her; he was not usually belligerent but he made it out to look as if he indulged in such vulgar activities regularly. He was a crazed man, and man with even more crazed notions. The blasphemy of it all was that he indeed was the man that society drew him out to be; there was no way around trying to conceal it.

Narcissa looked at her husband with sorrowful eyes. What had she done to deserve his mistreatment?

Madame Maxime straightened up, her eyes glittering. She captured to solemn expression of her Lady and let out a soundlessly exhale of air.

"'E will be fine." She turned to tell the matriarch of the Malfoy family. "'E is just stunned."

"I can see that," Narcissa said quietly.

A small house elf suddenly appeared, brandishing what looked like bandages and healing potions. Narcissa did not more nor told the little creature not to attend to him; she could not even if she wanted to. The elf was his and has never been known to listen to her.

"Wilfred," called the Lady of the house with a gentle voice. "Listen to my command. You are to take Lord Lucius home. Do you understand?"

With a grunt the little elf expressed his agreement. A swirl of elf magic entrapped them and with a flash. She watched mutely.

"Get away from me!" bellowed the Lord. The magic had awoken him from his sleep. Roused by the commotion, Lucius opened his eyes weakly and sat up, hissing as pain shot through his body. He caught the eye of Maxime and he glared at her for what she had done to him. Revenge was evident in his eyes. "I will not submit and be taken away like some common animal!"

"She stunned you because she had no other choice, my Lord." Narcissa said with panicked reservation. "What else did we have? You would no listen to reason. Your greed to take something you gave to these poor children has blackened your heart beyond recognition. Sometimes I wonder if you even have a heart."

Air caressed her face. As she closed her eyes and opened them back up, she found herself face to face with her husband. Of course it had been wrong of her to speak her mind so freely, but it was the truth. Was it wrong for her to keep such secrets from him? Any wife would want to express the same amount of dedication to their husbands and if it went against the morals of what a wife should do then so be it. She would gladly be reprimanded if that meant her husband was aware of the things that he was so terribly blind to.

"Forgive me, my Lord." she murmured, her voice strong despite how incredibly weak she felt. She had long since ceased fighting him. He would not strike, of course. He was not that type of Lord, anyway. "But, I cannot stand idly by and watch you destroy something that once brought so much joy to you."

"You know not of what joy is, wife." He said with a growl. "Joy had been taken from us that night, unless you have forgotten."

"I have not," she said sternly, twisting her features the best she could to resemble heated hatred. "What that harlot did to our son has never once left my heart or my memory. To provide her with any satisfaction by lowering ourselves below the mark in which we stand and stealing something that we gave to another is cause for concern. Certainly, you do not wish to make that sort of negation? Is this," she indicated around her and her husband followed with wary eyes," the type of example you want to make on your son? To show that when things do not go right that it is okay to harm and scare others until there is nothing left for them? I hardly think that someone as lost as you are can say that this is what you want. Either leave this establishment so I can take care of business or stay and find the compassion that I know you possess."

Narcissa ended her speech and turned from him, not wanting to see what will happen when he shifted through her words and found what he wanted to hear.

Most of their marriage had worked on him finding some piece of whatever she said wrong. This would no doubt be the same as the other times.

"I do not care about your words, Narcissa," came his reply sometime later. "I do not wish to see our son hurt, but I cannot allow this establishment to keeping running after all I have done for it."

"You cannot!-"

"Silence," he ordered with a dark terror. "You will not speak for the remainder of our visit. I came here to discuss the details of the Orphanage. I see now that it was a mistake to allow you and Draco to accompany me. Speaking of which, where is he?"

Lucius stood his ground, the nature of his question hanging around them like a canopy of poisonous fumes. The potency of it was dreadfully strong. None of the women answered.

"Where is my son, Narcissa?"

She shifted on her feet and said," Inside."

"The building?" he inquired. "Why is he inside when I explicitly told him to remain with you?

"Y-you… I-I."

"You what?" he asked. "You thought that going against my word was a good decision?"

"Lucius, please," his wife begged. "I- I did it to keep him safe. I did not want him to see such volatile rage."

With a quick, sharp movement, he slapped her across the face and she let out a strangled cry. He caught her by the arms, his grip hardening as he watched his wife sob in his arms. His breathing came in short bursts; his nostrils flared whilst he tried to calm himself down long enough to assess the situation.

Just then, a small figure emerged from the surrounding distance. It was a little boy and he appeared to be in dire need. Ms. Cole tore her horror-stricken face away from the Lord and Lady for a moment as to address the boy who was running toward them.

"Mistress!" he called, huffing as he ran as fast as his little feet could carry him. "Mistress, it is Hermione! She needs your assistance."

"Why on earth for?" Ms. Cole asked the child. "What is happening?"

"I do not know," he huffed breathlessly. "She is trapped in the Drawing Room and whoever is there will not let her out. Please, you must come!"

"You do not know who is with her?"

He shook his head. "Not I, Mistress. But others have seen a boy go in there with blonde hair and grey eyes. One of the little ones spoke to him and saw a terrifying creature appear before them."

A kind of nausea induced paranoia encompassed them. Lord Lucius' eyes then widened at the realization at what he had just done. Their son was close to commit an act of sin.

As he looked up, he caught the eye of his beloved wife.

Her eyes were wide with unadulterated panic.

A tear stained her precious cheek.

A resounding persistence of deathly silence encompassed them. To which, it grew more haunting by the minute and the only thing that could be agreed upon was the consequences of such actions given to someone that would be her Lord. The air grew unbearably tight; the children laughed pleasantly as Hermione was left to be swallowed up by her guilt and compassionate woe. It hardly seemed fitting to now just realize the error of her ways and what would come about from playing such a dangerous game. She had been so angry, so consumed with rage that she didn't stop to think what would come of it. Alas, she was hopeless.

The second that her hand connected with his flesh, she knew that she would regret it. The sound of it was deafening and caused a disturbance like neither of them could have possibly anticipated. It was deathly silent in the little drawing room. As she stood there, he could feel something building between them. The air grew impossibly tight and there was a kind of stiffness only brought on by unsatisfied anger. Hermione watched with horror as she watched his head turn slowly back around. She gasped in astonishment.

For his eyes were glowing with the passion of gold.

The irises swam to the sound of their own stream; thin lines of black appeared and mingled oh so beautifully with the gold as amber came forth from their depths and deepened the distorted trait. While she watched, Hermione backed away, tripping on her feet, her eyes locked with his. Even in her wildest of occasions, she never saw anything quite like it. It was stunning as it was dangerous; she had to get away.

Draco could feel the awakened senses of his ruling power as he turned slowly to the trembling girl. She had taken a step back, the panic in her eyes evident as she tried to ascertain what she had done and what was developing right before her eyes. He sensed her dismay, her regret. He could feel her fear and taste the dejection as it swam through her very veins. In all his life, he has never tasted anything sweeter than what the girl was willing to provide.

Hermione stood quickly.

The skirts of her dress rustled noisily as she tried to gather them and head for safer shores. Which were unavailable to her and she could not run.

With frenzied passion, she swept past him and tried to make her escape as inconspicuous as possible but it was to no avail. He caught her by the elbow, whirled her around and brought both his hands to her arms in order to effectively trap her. She was under his power, and he was under the beasts ruling. They would suffer together.

Never has the sensation of his turning ever been so strong; even under the fullness of the moon, there had always been some underlining reason for the turning. This was unlike all those other times. He felt this incredible churning of magic as his senses were numbed and then filled with the overflowing magic that was his beast. Like soft embers of a blazing hearth, her touch licked at him and sent a resounding patch of heat to flourish wildly across his flesh. It had been awoken the moment that the girl struck him, her skin breathing life into the dormancy that was its cell. He knew that the beast had been watching, but every logical, careful thought and action was thrown out the window the moment that foolish girl thought it proper of her to hit him. The beast wanted her; for whatever reason, he chose her and it was under her presumptions of trust that he was going to take her. A feral growl issued from his lips; it was low, deep, and frightening.

He needed to mark her. Never in his life had he believe any better moment than forcefully taking a flower from where is sat embedded in the earth. This flower was particularly wealthy. A subdued weed with no stunning attributes except its hidden grandeur to which it tailored to. There was something in this girl that he had to have, to obtain and he was going to get it.

He stalked around her slowly. In a half drawn circle, he was able to change the direction of her discourse and press her reverently against the wall of tomes that caught behind her. The scent of her fear grew steadily, taunting him, teasing him. It was under the arousal of some deep fantasy of his that his eyes began to glow even brighter with heavy gold. Burning, that was what it felt to be this close to her. Her rapid breaths fanned his face as her heart quickened to an unhealthy pace. He could practically feel the flutter and fear through the tight proximity of their bodies. He could see every freckle that kissed her face and the depth of her amber eyes as they caught the light. Again, she was not the most beautiful creature but beauty was in the eye of the beholder. He made her beautiful, and that was all that mattered.

As he pressed against her, he felt her magic flare out in retaliation. His eyes flickered to see what sort of damage it may hold but came to a startling conclusion.

All around them, the Fae were uniting together. Their numbers were large. An army of ready with bearing arms to attack. He let out a low growl, watching as they trembled and shriveled unto themselves in fear. They all seemed to take charge and fly forward; he snarled and it took only a second of despair to disperse them. It looked like appearances were indeed deceiving; they left their mistress to fend for herself. The girl was definitely frightened, but the fact that she had even motioned to move was quite intriguing. Underneath that tough façade was a structure of crumbling significance. He could not remember a time that he had smelled or senses anything to strong yet to incredibly undeveloped. It was like a delicious feast and he could not get enough of it.

The Fae, as he imagined, appeared again and with greater numbers. Although only several inches high, they appeared as a thick veil, their weapons drawn, and their eyes locked on their mistress, they were waiting for a sign.

What were they waiting for?

If she were a witch, why was she not attacking him? And her companions? Why were they in the stance of drawn reclusion? None of it made sense.

Then a thought hit him.

She could not control what was residing inside her. As especially disheartening as it was, he found sick satisfaction in the fact that the girl could easily get herself killed if she were not cautious. For years it has been locked up and she has only let it out in extreme bursts of fear and anger that it was able to be relinquished from its hold. If she could learn to control her magic long enough to work out the logistics, she just may make it out alive. Or, so he theorized. She was unable to control it, having not been taught the trials of their ways. He longed to know what her past was. Whatever it was, it had not been a giving invite.

The Fae could sense the disillusioned unbalance. They fought so hard to keep her stable, and now the time came that their Mistress was receiving the full force of the fearful stress, they all rallied up and placed themselves in front of her. At a moment's chance, they would attack but only if he became a threat.

They stood there in measured temperament

He turned to the girl and said," You must be very special if they feel the need to protect you." With a nod, he indicated to the Fae as they rose and fell in their positions. "Unfortunately for them, I am not about to give you up quite yet."

Draco circled around her once more in an attempt to ascertain the weakest advantage point. The Fae pressed tightly together and he could just make out the girl's

An evil thought occurred.

In a blink of an eye, he disappeared. He left no trace as to where he went, and as he shimmered back into existence, he could not help but curl his upper lip as she gasped aloud, whipping her head around, her hair following suit like rattling chains in progression. In her panic, she fell to the ground and her body began to tremble even more. If being frightened was could be a standing ovation, it certainly have been the cause for her. Tears fell from her eyes and down her cheeks like small streams. The air suddenly began salty. He gathered her sadness and fear came more from not knowing what he was going to do than what he was transforming into.

His changing was always startling, and even more so during the light of day. While his changing was gradual, hers was almost instantaneous.

Something was beginning to stir.

So, that was what it was. She was a young girl yet to feel the total explosion of her magic. Draco had wondered what made this one so different, and he believed he finally found it.

It was when the beast found the flower that he was able to understand. The pull he had felt while exploring had been her touching some sort of unknown voice of their tale. He still did not know what it meant and he would not stand there and pretend that he knew. Something was terribly different about her and as he stalked toward her, taking note of the frightened worry as it flashed across her lightly freckled face, he began perpetually determined to find out what it was about her that made his beast react as if she were the full moon and he was nothing but helpless to her powerful phases. He crept forward and grabbed her by the midriff. His nose became buried in her neck as she wiggled about like a helpless rabbit.

He regarded her coolly, his eyes fixated upon her like some fascinating piece of art meant to be explored with sensuous care. Hermione stumbled back and before he had time to react a formation of Fae had flown right in front of them, protecting her from his advancements.

Draco did not move.

His eyes were on her.

Her magic was whirling around her like a beast caught in its chamber. Like the wild beast that it was, the beautifully colored hued spectacle whipped about, causing the very room in which they stood to shudder in the delight of the awakening. He could feel It; it was nigh.

One by one the grandiose collection of books, furniture,

"why-l-let go of me!" she shrieked, not wanting to be anywhere near him. "Pl-please! I-!" Her breath hitched uncomfortably.

He did not. He continued to sniff her neck in deep, abiding quantities. A kind of sweet fragrance began to wash over him and as the partially turned beast continued to inhale her unique scent, it slammed into him like the fastest flying broom of the era.

"You certainly should have sat embedded in the earth, little flower," he growled. "Forbidden to be touched, looked at or even acknowledged. You aroused something in me."

"Wh-what is this nonsense! Release me at once!"

"I am afraid I cannot do that, Hermione." His voice was no higher than a whisper. "Not after the hardened touch of your hands. I must keep you near."

He knew that if it were not for being completely frightened and vulnerable to his touch and embrace, she would have gotten angry over his statement. Draco did not regret saying it in the slightest. It was the truth.

He wanted her and so did the beast.

"Do you think it was appropriate of you to hit me, Hermione?"

She shook violently, trying to force him to release her but it was to no avail. His grip on her was perpetually tight and there was simply no way that she would be able to set herself free.

"You do not know what you are doing," she pleaded in an imploring tone. "Release me, please…"

"Or what?"

"I may hurt you." she whispered. "I do not want to hurt anyone else."

Suddenly, a small concession of voices sounded behind the door. A disruptive bang rang through the drawing room. He turned toward the doors where the concerned whispers as the growing chaos ensued.

"Hermione!" a little voice called. "Are you in there?"

"S-stay away!" she called back, frightened. Her magic was now swirling around her in a tangible pattern. "Go get Ms. Cole!"

Draco frowned at her admission. Stunned by the startling knowledge of her even considering that she would hurt him, he began to toy with the idea of seeking further knowledge himself. As the footsteps of her fellow orphans died away, he took a better look at her. The girl was an utter mystery, and it was that catalyst that willed and urged him to want to know what she meant by what she said. Could she even will the power that she spoke of? She looked so fragile, so weak and paled in comparison to monsters that lurked in plain sight. Even he did not think she had it in her until he slipped into her mind and found what could truly be painted in the crimson blood and blackened wings of death.

"Show me what you have been hiding," he breathed into her neck. "What has to so reluctant to open up? To see the disciplined truth and gorgeous lies? Show me."

Uncertain by what he meant, she began to struggle once more in his boundless escape. Hermione thrashed about like a winged bird that could no longer soar.

With horror-stricken eyes, her past awakened and he was able to step him and see for himself that which was hidden from her sight.

The room was dark. The only light source came from a single candle and as the flame flickered in and out of conscious, Draco was able to make out the subtle changes of scenery and embark down the corridor and into a small room embellished with simple wooden floors and inexpensive silver fixings. He stood on the banks of misfortune; the night was crisp and the hungry wail of a newborn baby could be heard. Assuming that it come from the room, Draco moved forward, minding the long exposure of the room and what may lurk within its grasp. A muffled sound of a woman calling for calm sounded around from far away, but the calm never came; she was only met with irked retreat and the knowledge that something was astray. Draco was standing behind the woman as she attended to the newborn. With frantic glances over her shoulder, she began to coo and hush for silence. The babe seemed to comply with her mother's wish. Her eyes became wide and glowed with the stunning allure of amber.

"Hush, little one. We must not make a sound."

Something moved behind her but she did not flinch. Several seconds later a man with equal caliber stepped into the room, turned and shut the door. He joined the woman's side and gave her a kiss on the cheek whilst looking down inside the crib, his eyes hard and his expression somber.

"How is she?"

"Well," the woman replied smoothly. "As for me, I am adapting."

"It will all soon be over, my dear," he caressed her cheek lovingly, looking into her eyes the best he could. "Everything will be back to what it once was."

"You sound so certain."

"I have to be," he admitted with penitence. "How else am I to serve you and keep you both safe?"

The woman smiled brilliantly up at the man. With one fluid motion, she brought him down to her level and kissed him on the lips. Their joining was beautiful; their bundle of joy wiggled upon the mother's bosom. A soft gurgled sound issued from the newborn's lips, ending the kiss prematurely. The woman looked down and then back at her husband, giggling. It seemed to her that their daughter approved.

"She is quite restless, yes?" he asked, looking down at his daughter with dear fondness and fatherly love. "Has she taken rest at all during the night?"

"Here and there," the woman admitted bitterly. "We have both been plagued with worry. How much longer must we stay here, Alan? I grow sick of running and hiding like a coward."

"It is not safe, my love."

"Says who?" she persisted with scornful pleading. "What is not safe out there that causes you to cringe and hurry us off into the night? What is out there that we must travel by day and only retire before sunset?"

"You must not ask questions that you are not prepared to hear the answer to." He warned darkly. "The times are troubling Jeanevere, and we must protect ourselves from what could cause utter harm to us."

"Do you believe we will ever find peace?"

"I do."

Alan removed his hand from behind his back and sat down. In his hand was a small nursery bottle filled with warm milk. As generous as his wife was with breastfeeding her, he thought she deserved a break. She declined it.

"I can feed my daughter myself, Alan."

He watched with marked interest as she opened her nightgown and exposed her breast. Flushing, she situated her daughter in curve of her arm and helped her latch onto her nipple. Her squirming stopped as she fed on the milk of her mother.

"A man could try." He sighed.

"And a woman can scorn." She shot back. "I do not want anything from the fool, Alan. You know I do not like him."

"He is the reason we are here."

"And I suspect he is the reason we even started this herring journey in the first place." She gasped as their daughter moved and latched back onto her breast. "I do not trust him. He came to us in the brink of time, yes, but I cannot help feel that he had been the reason we barely escaped the fire. Wherever we go, he is always there. I cannot possibly feel safe until he is gone."

A cry came from their newborn and they both looked down to see that their daughter was done feeding. Carelessly, Jeanevere kept her nightdress open for her husband to feast his eyes upon. With a twinkling smile, she shifted their daughter to the other arm and let out a humored laugh.

"You are straying to inappropriate ventures, my Lord."

"My eyes are not," he said, hungrily. "My Lady is taunting me with her beauty. But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief."

His wife gasped brokenly as the words of her favorite play. Overwhelmed with emotion, Alan stood and pulled his wife into a hard, enduring kiss. Their lips caressed the others and as soon as they stopped, he said," I love you."

"And I you."

"I should hope so," he breathed, kissing her again and pulling away. "I shall remain vigilant. You finish feeding our child. Nourish her with your warmth and provide her with your enduring love."

"I am only feeding her!" she laughed before looking down and running her palm lightly upon her head, smoothing her hair and humming. "It has already been three days and we have yet to spend quality time with her or name her for that matter. What shall her name be?"

Alan looked at his wife heatedly. In the last three days he had almost lost both his wife and child. With all the commotion and rendering prevalence, they had failed to name their daughter. There were so many beautiful names to pick from, but only one had caught his attention. His wife had to agree.

"Hermione," he said looking straight at their daughter.

"Why, that is a gorgeous name!" his wife gushed with adoration. "How on earth did you come up with that name, my love?"

"King Menelaus of Sparta and Helen of Troy," he reminded her. "It means well born and messenger. I thought it would be fitting for a babe so darling. Do you not agree?"

"I agree." She looked down at Hermione and smiled. "Hermione. What a pretty name for a darling babe."

"Indeed."

The woman by the gorgeous name looked up at her husband with wide, glowing eye before their luminosity flickered and died out. Even in the moonlight, the reflection of her sorrow shined brilliantly and parted the masses of the growing sea that was wedged between them. She closed her night dress and cradled her baby. Sound exploded a floor below and before they knew it, they were surrounded by their loyal guards and servants, one of which by name of Roberto Cummings, a foreign advisor sent from the far away isle of non-habitual reaches between Poland and Czechoslovakia. He greeted them with a welcoming smile and bowed upon request and permission to address them. His Master obliged him.

"Lord Granger," Roberto said in the tone of respect suited for his audience. Turning toward the woman, he extended his hand and took hers. "Lady Granger, how art thou?"

Jeanevere looked at him as if one would look at an insect or shadow. One needed to be stomped upon and the other needed a light to be shined on it to execute all traces of its existence. In the months of knowing Mr. Cummings, her reserved nature never faltered. She had never warmed up to the man and a distinct memory of him placing his hand unannounced upon her swollen stomach was collective proof of disloyalty. He was not to be trusted, but her husband begged to differ. In the last months, they had grown quite close and he had become chief of his safety and the welfare of the estate and wife. A very wrong move, indeed.

"Adequately well, to say the least," she clipped dismissively. "Dare I ask how you are, Mr. Cummings?"

"I am well, m'lady." a vile smile thinned his lips. "I have come bearing some good news. I do hope it serves to cheer you up."

"You may speak." she said, looking at her daughter worriedly. She writhed about in her arms before settling back down.

"We are to depart to Great Britain in the morning." He said, watchfully. "We have found a haven there that is willing to house your company for the duration of the rest of the year. Our only concern is the long journey. We suggest that it be made in several stages."

Her ears must have deceived her for she let out a startled cry and looked at her husband for clarification. When he gave none, she knew that they were in trouble.

"A haven?" she asked, marked with concern. "You think that a haven will keep us safe? There is a madman running around and who is after us. How can you remain so calm and collected-"

"Jeanevere-"

"I am not leaving this house, Alan," she snapped with vehemence. "I am tired of running. We have stayed here for weeks and there has been no sign of anything wrong. I believe the safest place for us is here."

Alan dismissed himself from Roberto's side and walked over to where his wife sat eyeing him carefully while she attempted to read his expression.

"My Love, we must leave." He told her under his breath. "We must find shelter elsewhere."

"We must stay." She insisted with the perpetual need to get through to him. "There is no danger here. I fear that danger will find us unless we stay and make fort here."

"I understand that you do not want to leave, but-"

"This is my home." she cried, cradling her daughter to her breast and broke down in sobs. "This is our child's birth home. Why do you want to take that away from her?"

"I do not wish to, beloved." He said with equal pain," but my hands are tied. We must leave."

It was with the look of crestfallen submission that she accepted what had to be done.

"Where is this haven exactly, Cummings?" asked Alan, reserved. "I have heard tales of Britain not being the safest place for us. Why do you wish to take us there?"

"It has houses dozens of refugees over last several centuries. The church that we are going to is devoted to protecting those who cannot protect themselves."

"We do not need that kind of protection." seethed Lord Granger. "What kind of man do you take me for, sir?"

Roberto approached his Lord slowly, his stature paling in comparison to him. "I find you remarkable, I assure you. It is your grace and your devotion to your lovely wife and new daughter that I admire the most. After all this diversity… you have been able to spring back and rise even stronger before he had fallen."

Alan regarded him calmly. "If that is true, then why do you wish to send us there? I do not see the reason to go out of our way to keep ourselves safe when we are perfectly fine here. Neither does my wife."

"Your wife is still ill."

"My wife is perfectly stable." A sharp eyebrow rose up his forehead. He looked down at him and asked, "Does she seem ill to you, Cummings? Or, do you have another motive in mind?"

Something sharp grazed his back but he was not permitted to look behind him. His head was kept straight, his arm bent behind his back. Whatever was pressing against him was made dominate. He was being held at gunpoint.

"What possible motive would I have besides wanting to protect you, my Lord?" he asked, tilting his head. "All I want to do is keep you safe. Safe and sound, if it pleases you."

He swallowed. The muscles in his throat worked painfully as he tried to keep his worry from his wife's insightful gaze. She would no doubt make a rather huge fuss of it otherwise.

"I see none, Cummings." He told him slowly before he moved his hand and touched the small gun. He noted the look of disapproval on his advisor's face. "I will not be threatened, however. Now, leave. I wish to adjourn to my chambers with my wife and child."

"Of course!" he obliged, bowing deeply. "It is my humble rule to oblige my Lord.

Not soon after the incident, Cummings and the guards took their leave but not without addressing their Lady one last time. With a hard expression, she said farewell and gave her daughter all the devotion she deserved. Cummings did not say a single word and left. Alan stood in his place, his eyes fixated where Roberto once stood. Silence prevailed. Unbeknownst to him, his advisor was standing on the other side of the door; the man that would later hold their fate in his hand cackled and drew into the darkness.

Through the darkness that prevailed, a figure emerged and gave rise to an alliance that had not been foreseen.

"I take that everything is going accordingly?" a voice asked, the tone neutral. "I have not seen you so delighted in many months."

"Oh, Deravacus," Roberto greeted with a friendly grin. "I should have known it was you."

A figure began to emerge but before he could access where he was going, the image began to flicker.

"What news do you bring me?"

A cruel grin stretched across his face as the howled wind shook him to his very core. "Our forces have converged."

"Splendid, and Greyback? What of him?"

"His alliance with Mr. Cummings is marked with approval." Said the man. "They will show themselves soon."

A desperate cry issued from the room from whence he came and Roberto with the man of Deravacus stood with the fleeting minutes with triumphant smirks upon their delicate faces. It seemed that their comrades in armor. The cry of the young maiden was followed closely by the hearted scream of the man and the wail of a child. Inside the room, Cummings knew what was to happen and so did Draco. Not being able to bear the end to the night, he pulled away from the collective memory of some unknown provider. When he did, nothing could have prepared him for the declaration of war or the trauma that he had caused.

There was a kind of hushed silence that filled the room. Slowly, as if timed in a measured musical piece, the candles began to flicker and the floor began to groan. The walls conceded to cave; the shelves shook with an incredible force to which there was no encourager. The room seemed to be collapsing upon its own accord. Draco took one look before his eyes settled back on the girl. She was shaking. Her righteous hair was thrown about her head in a dramatic effect, her eyes dark and clouded with something that could only be prescribed as anger. There was a kind of glint that he never seen in them before. He looked deep into them and became startled at what he found.

The Fae had drawn their weapons once more. This time, their faces expressionless as it were unrecognizable. In that moment he came to realize that he had something terrible and he was in great debt to fix it. With the purest of demands in heart, he turned, his brows furrowed, and proclaimed a confession.

"I am-"

"No!" she screamed, throwing her hands to her head and sobbing. "No!"

Tears of a shielded past ran down her cheeks in tandem. As he watched one tear slide down her cheek, he felt a pulse within the room. He looked around, taking into account that the fruitful attempt of freedom of the drawing room was not from natural occurrences but rather the girl's inability to control her emotions. Whatever he just saw was not something she ought to have seen; he came to terms with his mistake and just as he was about to rectify the situation, a trigger was unleashed.

Quite out of nowhere came a resounding crash of glass hitting wood. After a few seconds after the initial impact, another crash sounded, then another, and then another until the whole room was filled with the chaos that had been chained down and kept jailed inside the girl. The girl's knee became weak and bucked. She fell to the ground, her hands still clenching her head. She did not move as more objects flew from their thrones and flew across the room. One by one, books began to fly off their shelves whilst furniture turned upside down where they were arranged. She was trying to keep herself anchored to the world but nothing seemed to want to keep her grounded. Trapped, that is what she was.

And, true to that knowledge, Hermione became incoherent with the bent up rage that beseeched her.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Draco stepped forward, but the girl was quick to reprimand him.

"Stay back!" she cried, thrusting a hand out, her fingers spread wide as if to draw whatever vengeful spirit that lied within. "Stay away from me!"

"I intend to help." He implored. "Let me assist you."

"No, you do not."

"Let me help," he pleaded, worried now. "I can-"

"No!" she growled, a hiss issuing from her swollen lips. She looked up. Black eyes met that of grey and Draco knew that he was not speaking with the girl that he had introduced himself to just an hour ago. He was dealing with the mother of the girl and the loss that whatever act that he paid witness to. His eyes became sad; he only wished to understand, to know why his beast felt the incredible pull that it did and to see if there was anything at all that he could do to ease her woes. Alas, he was wrong.

"You have taken my home, my family. What more can there be to steal? What more can you possibly want?" she screeched, standing now. Ceasing to tremble that once coursed through her, the possessed girl moved away from him and whispered, "You have done enough, you beast."

A/N: As y'all can see, I left it on a cliffhanger. The storm has a arrived- do not worry. I don't plan on dragging this on forever. I do plan, however, to end the first part after chapter nine. I hope y'all like what happens between Draco and Hermione. It finally came to me what I wanted to happen after finishing Merlin and re-watching Sweeney Todd (R.I.P Alan Rickman. The man could SING!)

Y'all will see ;)

Nothing but a single idea is taken from both! D: I Solemnly Swear!

As I said, the end of the first part is coming to an end. I will let you know what the actual dates that inspired me to even write this work fiction. I said it before- I couldn't write it in the time period that these historical events take place. Instead, I opted for a more familiar time period. I know y'all don't mind and if anything it will give us all a little history lesson :)

I may need to go back and add things here and there as it is unedited. I used to have a guy for that. Wonder where he went?

Anyway! :) I apologize for the late update. I'm back in business now, babes!

Take care. Muah!

-Carolare Scarletus