Chapter Seven

They were standing in a familiar looking hallway with large windows that looked out to some lovely green hills. Sunlight was pouring in, lighting the hall with bright, warm light. Hermione blinked a few times to adjust to the brightness as she looked around. "Are we… at the Mansion?"

"Yes, the day you and Blaise were born as a matter of fact," he answered, "Hush now; this is very important."

Hermione watched as a younger version of her father came running down the hall.

Pietro's heart was pounding as he ran down the hall, coming to a skidding halt in front of a closed door. He pressed his ear to the door and listened. Screaming could just be heard through the thick wood of the door; screams of pain. Nervously, he bit his lip and began pacing in front of the door. He knew that he wasn't allowed in until everything was done, but that didn't stop him from wanting to burst through the door.

Suddenly, the screaming stopped and a faint crying was heard. The door swung open and a much smaller, much younger Gripa came waddling out carrying a bundle in her arms. "Sir, oh Sir, it's a boy!" she squeaked.

Pietro leaned down and took the little bundle from Gripa and cradled it in his arms. Brilliant blue eyes stared up at him as he looked into his son's tiny face. "He is so handsome," he whispered, "Gripa, Marjorie is carrying twins; there should be another baby on the way!"

Just at that moment, more screaming began and Gripa hurried to her Madame's side, shutting the door with a slam as she went. Pietro looked over his first born and smiled. "Blaise…" he said softly, "Yes, I think that suits you; Blaise Dominic Zabini."

A few moments later, Gripa came bursting back through the door with another bundle. "A girl, Sir!" she said, "She looks so much like Mrs."

She lifted the baby girl up and Pietro took her in his free arm. He gently rocked both babies and nodded as he said, "Yes, she does. How is Marjorie?"

"Mrs. is doing well, Sir," Gripa answered, "She's resting. You may see her if you likes."

"Thank you Gripa," he said.

Pietro then strode into the bedroom, carrying both babies, and went straight over to the bed where his wife was resting. He sat down on the edge of the bed and kissed his wife's forehead. "How are you?" he asked, placing their son in her arms.

Marjorie looked up at him and smiled. "I'm as well as I should be after just giving birth. Oh, Pietro, they're everything I'd hoped they'd be," she said weakly.

"Yes, they are beautiful," he said.

"What shall we call them?" Marjorie asked.

"Blaise Dominic… and…" He paused, looking down at their daughter.

"Hermione Jean."

Pietro smiled at his wife. "Yes, Hermione Jean," he agreed, gently laying her in Marjorie's other arm.

As he did this, the blanket Hermione was wrapped in came loose and fell off her shoulder. He went to fix it and his face went pale. Memories of the prophecy he had been shown months ago rose to the surface. He blinked. The crescent, he thought. He picked Hermione back up to get a better look, hoping he was just seeing things.

He wasn't.

Plain as day, on the back of her tiny shoulder, was a crescent shaped birthmark. There was no doubt that he had just found the Bearer. "No," he whispered, sinking to his knees.

Marjorie noticed the change in her husband immediately. "Pietro, what's wrong?"

He carefully turned Hermione in his arms and showed her the birthmark. "You know the task The Dark Lord has set me," he told her, "I have just succeeded in part of it."

Just as his had, Marjorie's face paled. "Pietro… Our daughter…" she was panicked, "You can't." She reached for her daughter.

Pietro kissed his daughter's head gently then placed her in her mother's arms. "Hush now, and rest," he whispered, "I will figure something out."

"But, the Dark Lord…"

"Marjorie, please do not concern yourself with this just now," Pietro said, silencing her, "You have just given birth and need rest. I will have Gripa administer a draught."

He stood and walked briskly from the room.

He gave Gripa instructions before heading to his study. He slammed the door and lit a fire in the fireplace. He wanted to scream, cry, throw something, but he knew he must remain calm. He took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck. "What am I going to do?" he asked aloud, "What am I going to do?"

He paced his study. He was pretty certain that no matter what he did, there would be a certain amount of danger, not only for him, but for his whole family. He picked up an ink pot and threw it into the fire. He cursed the fates for putting him in this situation. There seemed to be no way out. He either had to kill his daughter, and ruin his family for life, or defy his master and risk the lives of everyone he cared about.

He banged his fist against the wall as he tried to think. A few minutes later, he pushed away and looked up with a heavy sigh. "There is no other way," he said, "I know what I must do."

The scene faded around them and another began to form.

Pietro and Marjorie were standing over a beautifully crafted crib of maple, whispering hurriedly. It was clear, by their expressions, that they were worried about something. Hermione moved a few steps closer so that she could hear what they were talking about.

"Pietro, how can you be so sure that this is the best option?" Marjorie questioned, wringing her hands together, "I mean; the Muggle world? How would Muggles protect her?"

"My Love, I have thought over this a thousand times, a thousand different ways. There is no other option but to take her to the Muggle world. The Dark Lord will not look for her there."

His wife gave him a sort of defiant look. "Nothing good has ever come of you joining up with him in the first place."

"This is not my fault, Marjorie!" Pietro exclaimed, growing angry, "I do not see the future, I do not control the Fates, nor do I have anything to do with what is prophesied! I was young and naive when I joined The Dark Lord. I had no idea what would happen, or who he really was."

He breathed a deep sigh. "The Dark Lord has always been cruel and hungry for power, but it was not until he heard of the prophecy about that Lily Potter woman that he became so determined to keep from dying," he explained, "The lengths he has gone to, not even I can begin to describe."

Marjorie took his hand and squeezed. "Is there no way for you to leave him?"

Pietro chuckled bitterly. "We both know there is not."

Hermione began to fuss so Marjorie leaned down and lifted her into her arms. She held her close and rocked her. Hermione quieted almost immediately. Marjorie kissed her tiny head. "You're sure that this plan is going to work?" she questioned after a moment.

Pietro's face took on a determined expression. "It has to! For our sake, and Hermione's," he said, "Though, I will be honest; I am not certain of anything."

Marjorie nodded and forced her face into an expression of calm. "Tell me again."

The scene faded to black and Mr. Zabini gripped his daughter's hand. Seconds later they were sitting in Mr. Zabini's study with Mrs. Zabini looking at them anxiously. Hermione looked from her mother to her father. "So, that's why you took me to live with the Grangers, because I'm this… Bearer?" she asked softly.

"We wanted to protect you," Mrs. Zabini explained, "We couldn't risk the Dark Lord finding out about you, so we found the Grangers and…"

"And abandoned me there for nearly seventeen years!" Hermione exclaimed, practically shooting out of her seat, "You took me away from my home and, seemingly, loving family and left me with complete strangers."

"Hermione, you cannot have expected us to give you to the Dark Lord," Mr. Zabini said, "That would have killed us."

"And leaving me with strangers, and allowing them to raise me, didn't?"

"Of course it did! But we had to do what was needed to keep you safe," Mrs. Zabini said, tears beginning to fill her eyes. She wanted to hug her daughter tightly to her, but considering she had only just met Hermione earlier that day she decided against it.

"So you just gave me up?" Hermione questioned, "Why couldn't you have gone into hiding?"

Mr. Zabini ran a hand through his hair and sighed loudly. "Hermione, it is not that simple," he stated flatly, "We could not just go into hiding. The Dark Lord would have searched for us. Do not forget, I was charged with finding the Bearer and disposing of… well, you. Were I to fake my death, go into hiding, or anything of the sort, he would have found out. He would have found out and we would all be dead. You, Blaise, your mother, me; dead. I could not allow that to happen."

"So how did you keep You-Know-Who from finding out about what you had done? I know he's a skilled Legilimens."

"It was a matter of keeping out of his sight as much as I could manage under the guise that I was searching out the Bearer," Mr. Zabini said, "Plus, I hid the memory of you away in my pensieve so even if he had used Legilimency on me, he would not have found any memory of you. Other than those in connection to your friend, Harry Potter."

"It must have frightened you very much to find out that I was going to grow up to possess such a power that could destroy the darkest wizard of all time."

"We were more frightened of you being killed than anything else," Mrs. Zabini said, "So we hid you away."

Hermione thought for a moment. Understanding and forgiveness washed over her as she thought about the sacrifice they'd had to make for her. Then another question came to mind. "So why the betrothal to Draco?"

"Well as far back as I can remember; our family has wanted to merge with the Malfoy's," Mr. Zabini said, "But both families had only ever turned out boys. Lucius and I had been friends since before our days at Hogwarts so when we had both married, we made a pact that if one of us ever had a daughter, and the other a son, they would be married."

"I see," Hermione said, "Does Lucius Malfoy know that I'm the one the prophecy spoke of?"

"No, only your mother and I know," her father said.

"We couldn't risk anyone being in danger of knowing your secret," Mrs. Zabini said, "We told anyone who knew we were having twins that you were very ill with a rare disease and needed to put into special care."

"Didn't anyone ask questions about what I was ill with or anything of the sort?"

"Of course they did. We couldn't have anyone pulling the truth out of us so we made it clear that it was a touchy subject with us."

"Are you still loyal to You-Know-Who?"

Mr. Zabini looked a bit taken aback by her question. "My loyalty, and love, has always been to my family first; if it was not, I would have served you up to The Dark Lord without hesitation."

This shocked Hermione greatly but she remained quiet as her father continued. "Family is important to me, my top priority, and always has been, but Hermione, you must understand; once you have received the Dark Mark, there is no changing sides," he said sadly, "No matter how much you may want to."

"Surely there must be something you can do. Have you tried talking to Professor Dumbledore? I'm sure he could help you and Mr. Malfoy as well, if he's interested."

"Hermione, promise me that you will not do anything to try and save Lucius and me."

Hermione shook her head. "I'll not make any such promise," she said, "I'm sure there's a way for you to get away from You-Know-Who and I'm going to find it."

"Hermione…"

Mrs. Zabini put her hand on her husband's arm, silencing him. "Pietro, perhaps we should let Hermione go to bed. I'm sure she's had a rough day."

"Yes; that I have," Hermione agreed.

"Very well. Good night, dear one," he said softly, kissing her on the forehead, "Sweet dreams."

Mrs. Zabini hugged her. "If you need anything, we'll be here," she said before letting go.

Hermione nodded. "Good night," she replied. She then headed out of the study and back up to her room, thoughts of books she might be able to use to find out how she might help her father flowing through her mind.

Draco shut the door to his room with a yawn. It had been a long and confusing night and he was ready to call it a night. He looked over at his desk and saw a few letters sitting on top of a book he'd left open earlier that afternoon. With a few steps, he stood in front of his desk and sifted through the letters, seeing who they were from when a bright red envelope caught his eye.

He picked it up and it sprang to life, a loud voice echoing off the walls of his room.

Malfoy,

RIGHT, NOW LISTEN HERE YOU SLIMEY FERRET FACED GIT! HERMIONE WILL NOT… I REPEAT, WILL… NOT… BE MARRYING YOU! I DON'T CARE IF YOUR FAMILY HAS SOME BLOODY ARRANGEMENT WITH HERS… IF THEY'RE REALLY HER FAMILY… SHE'S TOO GOOD FOR YOU SO JUST STAY AWAY FROM HER! I HOPE SHE HEXES YOU INTO OBLIVION!

Ronald Weasley

Draco let out a wail of laughter as the howler burst into flames, destroying itself. He knew that Ron Weasley was quite fond of Hermione but he had no idea that he'd go to such lengths as to actually send him a warning of any sort. Isn't he with that Lovegood girl, he thought?

He continued to chuckle as he picked up another letter. A groan of annoyance escaped his lips when he recognized the curly writing on the envelope. Ever since the previous summer, Pansy had been determined to get her hooks into him and he was not having it. She was too obsessive, too clingy, and just all out too creepy for his taste. Will she ever get a clue?

He threw her letter into his fireplace with a loud sigh and picked up the final letter.

Draco,

As I sit here writing this, you're out on a walk with Hermione. I know that the two of you have had your differences… okay so you've actually been more of a wrecking ball… but I hope that you both can put your past behind you and actually get to know each other. I think if you can do that, you might find that you like each other a little. I don't know if you two will ever love each other, but I think you could.

It's weird but I feel this connection with Hermione, like I've always known she was my sister, you know, deep down. I can't explain it. In the last few hours, it feels like that connection has grown. Maybe it's a twin thing, I don't know.

Anyway, mate, I've always considered you a brother so I really hope that you and Hermione decide to go through with the betrothal. We'd really be family then! I can't think of a better person to marry my sister than my best mate, so please, for me, give her an honest chance.

Welcome to the family!

Blaise

A smile came across his features as he re-read the brief letter. In all the years that he had known Blaise Zabini, he'd never known him to express his feelings, at least not to a detailed extent. Being that it took a lot for Blaise to trust someone, it was nice to know that he trusted him with his sister.

Hermione had always been important to Blaise, even though she had never been a part of his life until earlier that evening. Draco recalled many conversations where Blaise had wondered where she was, what she looked like, if she knew about him; things like that.

Thinking of Hermione, Draco pictured her in his mind. She had completely taken him by surprise tonight. She had stood up to him, which wasn't any different than before, she had been kind to him, and had even called him out on being a jerk. What he hadn't been expecting, however, was her acceptance and friendship, if that's what they could call what they had now.

He had been certain that, like him at first, she would put up a fight about the betrothal. Yet, she had looked his father straight in the eyes and told him that she was considering it. And the fact that she had gotten her parents, as well as his, to agree to let them decide for themselves if they should get married… that was a wonder all in itself. Though, if anyone could have done, it was her, he thought with a chuckle.

On a whim, Draco sat at his desk and began writing a letter. He worked for several hours trying to make sure this letter was worded the way he wanted it to be. If he was really going to give getting to know Hermione a chance, then he wanted to do it properly. To do that he knew he needed to access a part of him that had been buried for a long time.

Several crumpled pieces of parchment, and broken quills, later Draco finally finished his letter. He nodded as he read it over, pleased with his work. He quickly folded it and stuffed it into an envelope. He wrote the address on the front and set it aside to be sent in the morning.

He then stood and grabbed a fresh pair of pajamas. He quickly changed into them and laid down in the king sized bed, hands linked behind his head. He glanced around the dimly lit room and sighed heavily.

For the past seventeen years, he'd lived in this room and, once the school year ended, he'd no longer even live in Malfoy Manor. It was tradition in the Malfoy family for the children to get a place of their own once they finished their final year of school. This excited Draco very much, he was tired of living by his father's rules, but he was also surprisingly saddened by the prospect of leaving the house he had grown up in.

With a huge yawn, Draco rolled over onto his side and looked around the room. Few pictures hung on the warm green walls or sat on the elaborate maple desk in the corner of his room. Black carpet covered the floor, graced with deep green throw rugs in front of the fireplace and next to his bed. An armoire stood against the far wall, a green snake carved into its side in the shape of an 'S'.

He'd had his room decorated like this since he'd come home for Christmas during his first year at Hogwarts. His parents had been so proud to learn that he'd been sorted into Slytherin that they had had their house-elf, Dobby, change the décor of his room. It had been a shock when he'd come home and seen his "new" room.

His eyes came across his Nimbus 2001 propped up in the corner of his room, neatly groomed and shining. On the wall above his fireplace hung a large portrait of the Slytherin Quidditch team, for which he played Seeker. His eyes looked over at his desk, where, shining next to his Head Boy's badge was a smaller badge with a 'C' on it. When he'd received his Hogwarts letter, he'd gotten not only the Head Boy position but the Quidditch Captain spot as well.

An elaborate cage stood, climbing halfway up the wall, between two floor to ceiling stained-glass windows adorned with green snakes. A soft hoot came from inside the cage and Draco turned his attention to the large eagle owl that sat perched on one of the many perches. "Hush, Helios." He said softly. "You know Father doesn't like hearing you making a lot of noise."

It'll be interesting, if Hermione and I get married, to see how she decorates the house, he thought. He was pretty certain that she'd use Gryffindor colors, if he was going off of how her room was decorated. Then again, I don't think she decorated her room.

He thought about how her room looked and realized that it had Mrs. Zabini written all over it. He imagined that Hermione might have more of a Muggle sense of decorating due to being raised in the Muggle world. I guess I'll just have to wait and see what happens. With that thought, he closed his eyes and, within minutes, fell asleep.

The following morning Draco woke to the smell of something delicious being cooked in the kitchen. He looked at his clock and saw that it was seven o'clock. With a small yawn, he stretched his long limbs and climbed out of the bed. He made his way over to the grand cage and opened the latch, letting the brown and black eagle owl out.

The owl perched obediently on its desktop perch and waited. Draco took the letter he'd written the previous night off the desk and placed it in his beak. "Take this to Hermione Zabini at the Zabini Mansion," he said softly, now holding up a small parcel.

The owl hooted in reply and took the parcel in his talons. He then flew swiftly out of the now opened window. Draco watched as the owl disappeared, thoughts of what Hermione's reaction might be swimming through his head.

After a few moments, Draco moved from his spot in front of the window and strode over to his armoire. He opened the doors and selected a fresh pair of boxers out of the top drawer. He then made his way into his bathroom. Bright light surrounded him as he sidled over to a small shelf that stood next to his shower. After placing his clean clothes on the shelf the tall, lean wizard then stepped into the shower and drew the curtain.

It was a quarter to eight before Draco emerged from the shower, clean and fresh-faced. He wrapped a fluffy green towel around his waist and padded over to the silver, emerald snake encrusted sink. In minutes, he emerged from the bathroom freshly shaven and clad in a deep blue, button down dress shirt, and a pair of black slacks.

As he began leaving his room, he noticed an owl flying toward his window. He hurried over to the window and opened it for the oncoming owl. It flew into the room, dropped a letter on his desk, and quickly flew off again.

Draco lifted the letter off of his desk and smirked at the scrunched writing; it was from his Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor and Head of Slytherin House, Severus Snape.

Mr. Malfoy,

I received an owl from your father telling me of your betrothal to Miss Zabini. I offer my congratulations.

See you on September 1 for your final year at Hogwarts.

Severus Snape

Head of Slytherin House and Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts

Draco placed the letter back into the envelope and let it drop back onto his desk. He opened a drawer to his left and withdrew a black granite box encrusted with a jeweled version of the Malfoy family crest. He opened the box, which held a stack of letters, with a tap of his wand and added his letters from Blaise and Professor Snape to it. He then closed the box and placed it back in the drawer. Then, with a turn, he marched out of his room and headed down to the dining room for breakfast.

A tiny elf greeted him at the door. "Master Draco, just in time, sir," it said, "Breakfast is nearly ready."

"Thank you Rookin," Draco said as a chair moved itself out for him and he sat down, "What are we having?"

Rookin climbed onto a stool and poured some pumpkin juice into Draco's goblet. "Rookin has ordered bacon, sausages, scrambled eggs, raspberry scones, and croissants, sir."

Draco nodded and took a long drink of his pumpkin juice. "I hope there's plenty," he said, "I'm famished."

Rookin nodded his tiny head. "Don't fret, Master Draco, Rookin has made sure you is getting enough to eat."

"Thank you, Rookin."

The House-Elf gave him an almost toothless smile and scurried off to the kitchen.

The tiny creature doted on him. Whenever Draco was home, Rookin would pop in with plates of food, or sweets, or just to make sure his young master was doing all right. Draco had asked him once why he was always trying to feed him, and the House-Elf had replied that he didn't trust that he was being fed properly at Hogwarts. That had made Draco laugh.

Rookin came back into the dining room carrying a tray of steaming hot food. He carefully set the tray down in front of Draco and then perched himself on a little stool in the corner. Draco knew he did this so that he could immediately take care of anything he might need. "Is anything interesting happening today?" he asked the elf.

"You is attending a birthday party tonight," Rookin replied, jumping up and picking up an envelope from a side table that they used for mail, "This came while you was still sleeping."

Draco took the invitation and read it as he took a huge bite of his raspberry scone. A ball, of course, he thought. Marjorie Zabini never did anything small, especially when it came to her children's birthday. Of course, this one was going to be even more spectacular and extravagant than any of the previous parties she had thrown for Blaise.

Draco read over the invitation once more and sighed. Not only do I have to dress for a ball, which I hate, but I'm pretty sure the entire seventh year has been invited… Just great.