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Chapter 32

My phone call to Hermione went to voicemail, but within a minute, she'd sent a text, repeating what Regina had already told me: they'd explain when they got back, and that this wasn't a phone conversation. Her pointless addition of please don't worry, didn't ease my concerns in the slightest.

As we'd walked away from the restaurant, I'd briefly considered going to her. My two friends had sensibly pointed out our wives would already be on their way back and I'd have no idea where to find them. I cursed at both of them, my temper flaring to a point it hadn't in years.

They took my anger without retaliation. Nor had they tried to calm me. There was no point. Something had happened and every horrific possibility managed to filter through my mind. A mind that seemed to have lost all cognitive thought.

Perhaps the message wasn't from them. Perhaps their phones had been stolen. Or they'd been kidnapped and were now tied up and unconscious. I was a rich man with a pregnant wife, she would be an easy target for some mafia overlord. I should have considered a security detail for her. Why hadn't I done that already? I was going to do that when she was in Paris. Why had I thought London to be safer?

My thoughts became crazier as the minutes ticked away, and I began pacing like a caged animal. My skin felt too tight and any attempt to talk to me was shut down with an uttered curse. Something had happened. To my wife. My pregnant wife. And my need to do endless harm to whatever, or whomever, had caused the something happened text was at breaking point.

I checked my phone endlessly as I stalked back and forth across the living room, while my two friends sat on the sofa, watching me.

"What the fuck is taking so long?" I growled, looking at my phone once more.

"They'll get here when they get here," Corban said calmly. "They were in the city. The traffic is horrendous."

I sneered at him then stalked back to the window.

"Regina also said she's okay," Antonin chimed in. "You're working yourself into a state for no reason."

"No reason?" I retorted sharply. "No reason? How fortunate for you both that neither of your wives are pregnant."

"Lucius." Corban stood and crossed the room to stand beside me. He squeezed my shoulder, as if trying to make my brain connect with what they were saying. "She's okay. They're on their way home. If she was hurt in any way, we'd be headed to a hospital."

My anger simmered but I conceded his point. Regina assured me Hermione was okay, and Hermione had responded saying the same. Whatever had happened wasn't serious enough to be a medical emergency, but serious enough they had to return home earlier than planned. And serious enough that it needed to be explained in person.

"What the hell could have happened?"

The key sounded in the door and I was across the room in a flash. But I pulled up short, met with three faces of absolute fury. I reached for Hermione but she pushed past me, throwing her bag against the side of the sofa. Regina and Lana followed, equally as angry.

"Um, sorry?" I said, holding up my hands.

"What?"

They all turned to face me, and I took a step back. This was pure anger.

"I feel like I should apologise."

Hermione's face softened and she moved closer, wrapping her arms around me. I sagged in relief, knowing she wasn't harmed in any way.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

I held her face in my hands. "Are you alright?"

"I am," she said with a tight smile. "We all are."

"What happened?" Corban asked.

"Narcissa fucking happened," Lana spat and my anger spiked again.

"Narcissa happened?" I asked, more calmly than I felt.

"She arrived at the spa just after we did," Regina explained. "We were in the lounge waiting for our treatments to begin and she walked in. She threw a tantrum when she saw us, ranting that…"

She glanced at Hermione, her mouth drawn into a tight line, and my stomach sank.

"She refused to share the same space as a pathetic, gold-digging slut who stole her husband and deliberately got pregnant with his bastard child," Hermione finished for her.

"Fuck," Corban swore, staring directly at me.

White-hot rage consumed me. Blood pounded in my ears and I thought my heart would slam through my chest. My ex-wife had always been vindictive, but this was too much.

"I'll bury her," I said through gritted teeth. "I'll bury her so deep, no one will ever remember she existed."

"Lucius," Corban warned. "Stay calm."

"I'll not stay calm!" I roared. "She dared to speak to my wife that way. She dared to insult her with lies and slander. She will not come near Hermione ever again. She will not utter one single word to her, she will not even look at her! Narcissa will regret her behaviour until her very last breath. I'll make sure of it!"

A heavy beat of silence followed my outburst. I was angry. Furious. How dare that spiteful woman act like the victim. She might have been determined to make my life hell, but she hadn't counted on my determination to protect Hermione.

"Lucius." Hermione's hand wrapped gently around my wrist and my heart lurched.

"I'm so sorry," I pulled her against me. "I'm not trying to control this, or you. We can handle it however you want."

"I know you're not," she said. "You're reacting to her, not me. But, I did call her a cheating whore, remember?"

Corban snorted a laugh and Antonin clapped his hands.

"How did we miss that?"

"The first time Lucius took me out to dinner, Narcissa was there. She came up to us and asked who I was." She grimaced, looking up at me, "I asked her if she was 'the cheating, whore ex-wife'."

The four of them began to shake with laughter.

"You didn't?" Regina asked between breaths.

"I did." Hermione's eyes dropped to the floor, her shoulders tensing. "I'm not proud of myself."

"Oh darling, you should be." Lana collapsed into the armchair, still laughing. "No one talks to Narcissa Black like that. She must have been shocked into silence."

"Walked off in a huff," I recalled. "She was none too pleased that Hermione was getting attention from a fan."

"Oh, this keeps getting better." Lana clapped her hand on her thigh, "She'd be seething at how happy you are, Lucius, and that you're with someone famous. She would have been itching to retaliate."

"Perhaps," I countered. "Her behaviour today was taking it too far though."

"She was escorted out," Regina said, watching Hermione closely. They'd not seen this side of her – the quiet, withdrawn side. "She continued making a scene, though, and it became too uncomfortable, and awkward, for us to stay there."

"How could I not see this happening?" I berated myself. "She's obviously run out of money, but she's deranged if she thinks she'll get another cent out of me."

"She was also at the restaurant the night we celebrated your engagement." Corban looked at each of us, his Barrister's face sliding into place. "Have you seen her anywhere else you've been?"

"It's only three times, Corban," I said. "I don't think she knows where we live."

"Three times that you've noticed." He rubbed his palm across his mouth, his brows pulling together in concern. "And, she could have easily followed you home that first night without you knowing. Does she know Hermione is with the Royal Ballet?"

"I made the mistake of bragging the first time she approached us." I winced, still regretting saying anything. "I put Hermione in danger without thinking."

"The company has ensured she can't get near me," Hermione said quickly. "And I've never seen her there anyway."

"What about anywhere else? Have you seen her in the street? On your commute? Or when you're at brunch?"

Hermione shook her head, then her eyes went wide. "Actually, she walked past the cafe we have brunch at a few weeks ago. She was across the street, but Katie told me to ignore her. She assumed Narcissa was watching her, trying to see if Scorpius was with her. They haven't had any contact with her since dinner at our engagement."

"Why didn't you say anything?" I asked, trying not to sound accusatory.

"I figured Katie was right. It didn't occur to me that she would be watching me."

"That's how she knew you were pregnant," Regina said, scowling. "I wondered how she could tell. We were sitting down at the spa, and you had your back to her."

"How would she have known we would be there?" Hermione's face paled and made my stomach twist with guilt. I'd been too nonchalant, too oblivious. I should have known Narcissa would become obsessed the second she saw me with another woman. A much younger woman. Her jealousy knew no bounds. And there was nothing she wouldn't do to make my life hell.

"If she's been following you already, she would have just done more of the same today," Corban told her. "You'd be surprised at the lengths some people will go to."

"I should have known she'd do this," I uttered, pressing my fingers to my forehead.

"How could you know?" Hermione asked. "She wasn't supposed to come near you, Lucius."

"She wasn't supposed to come near you either."

"I'll get a separate restraining order sorted on Monday for Hermione," Corban stated in a voice that brokered no argument. "There's more than enough evidence, and enough witnesses to attest that you have been targeted and harassed. I'm assuming you have Narcissa's solicitor's details?"

"You really don't have to do this," Hermione said quietly. "Lucius won't leave my side ever again."

"I do have to do this," Corban told her, standing in front of her and gently squeezing her shoulders. "I have a responsibility to do what's best for my client."

"Corban…" Hermione's eyes shimmered with tears.

"You've been through this once already." He spoke softly, carefully, knowing her history. "And you will not go through it again."

She hugged him, thanking him quietly.

"And Lucius is right," he said, looking at me, his eyes holding the same fire they had all those years ago when Severus was being bullied. "We'll bury her."

We'd spent the remainder of the evening with our friends — putting aside the events of the day — talking and laughing, and allowing Antonin to order food. When they'd left, Lana and Regina took their turns hugging Hermione, promising they'd take her back to Corinthia the next weekend. Corban reiterated his promise to ensure her safety, and Antonin earned himself a slap on the back of his head from Regina when he suggested his own name was perfect for a bastard. Hermione had kissed his cheek, promising she'd consider his suggestion.

The quiet settled around us when the door closed. Hermione pressed her face into my chest, I leaned my chin against her crown, rubbing my palms up and down her back, and we stood in the small foyer just breathing. Narcissa had been far more shrewd than I'd anticipated, and while her behaviour hadn't been completely unexpected, the extent to which she had gone to follow Hermione had.

"I'm so sorry," I murmured into her hair. "I never thought she'd stoop so low."

"I should have known when I saw her watching us at brunch." Hermione tilted her head back to look up at me. "I should have said something to you."

"Don't you dare blame yourself for her actions," I chided mildly. "You are innocent in all this."

She nodded and pressed her face back into my chest. "It was so embarrassing, her ranting like she was. I wanted the floor to swallow me."

"You know you're none of those things," I said. "Her intention was to upset you, don't let her words hurt you. She is irrelevant."

"She's not though." Hermione's response was quiet, almost timid. I hated that the madness I loved so much was nowhere to be heard. Instead, all I heard was the blame she was laying on herself. "She's your ex-wife. Draco's mother. Scorpius's grandmother. That's not irrelevant."

"Draco hasn't spoken to her in over a year, and he doesn't want her in his or Scorpius's lives. Narcissa has never been a fan of Katie, and Draco has decided his mother is no longer worth his time."

She didn't respond, and I couldn't even begin to imagine what was going on inside her head. She'd laughed through dinner, but the merriment never reached her eyes. She had withdrawn into herself, and the mask she had firmly in place was one I recognised immediately. I'd seen it when the realisation of Charlie's lies hit her.

"She won't get near you again," I promised. "You were supposed to relax and enjoy doing nothing today and she ruined it. I should have been more cautious. I should have known she wouldn't let me live happily. I should have known she would come after you."

Hermione remained silent, but she took my hand and held it against her belly.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" she asked in a voice so distressed it took everything I had to not storm out and find my ex-wife and put her in the ground.

A tiny, triple kick-kick-kick fluttered against my palm, reminding me where my focus should be. Corban would take care of Narcissa. I needed to take care of my family.

I gently slipped my fingers under her chin and tilted her face up to look at me. "I know all the thoughts in your head right now of me not wanting this are easier to believe, but those thoughts are wrong. You and our baby are everything. Everything. What happened today was shitty, but it in no way reflects who you are. You are independent and strong, and you face everything with a determination I've never witnessed before. You were caught off-guard and treated deplorably, but there is nothing you should be ashamed of at all." I smiled at her, brushing my thumb across her cheek, "You don't want my money and I certainly wasn't married when we met. Everything she said was a lie."

Her bottom lip quivered and she squeezed my hand. "She called our baby a bastard."

"That's a very archaic and old-fashioned ideology. Also, if our baby is a bastard, then so is her grandson. Scorpius was born before his parents were married, and that fact doesn't change anything about him. We love him because he's Scorpius. And our baby will be loved because of who it is."

A tear slid down her cheek, and some of the light that had diminished had returned to her eyes.

"I don't want you to ever think poorly of yourself. Certainly not when someone who doesn't even know you spouts such nonsense." I held her face in my hands and kissed her forehead, "You are everything she's not. Independent, successful, strong, intelligent. You have your own wealth which you don't squander, and everyone falls in love with you the moment they meet you. You are kind and generous, and completely mad. But most of all, you are loved and adored, and by no one more than me."

She smiled through her tears. "You always know what to say."

"That's because I'm old and wise."

"Or, you're a writer."

"Ah, yes. There's that too." I held my hand against her belly again, another kick making us both smile. "But, none of those words will ever be in a book. I meant every one of them and those words are just for you."

She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, looking much brighter. I understood that she would still take a few days to realise Narcissa's behaviour wasn't her fault — it was how her traumatised mind worked — but she would eventually sort thoughts out and be my mad ballerina again.

Musical ringing dragged me awake. I recognized the tone instantly; Corban had assigned himself the theme to The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly proclaiming himself to be The Good, and allowing Antonin and I to decide on The Bad or The Ugly.

I fumbled for my phone, hitting the speaker button.

"Corban?"

"Is Hermione with you?"

"I'm here." Hermione's eyes were closed but she smiled sleepily at me. "I'm taking a personal day."

"That's definitely fortuitous," Corban said and I heard the relief in his tone.

"Why is that?" I asked, guessing at the probability of what he was going to tell us but not sure I truly wanted to know.

"Are you both sitting down?" He asked. "And Hermione, I don't want you to be scared or upset, alright?"

I reached for Hermione. Her hand found mine and her sleepy face suddenly looked concerned.

"That doesn't sound ominous at all, Corban."

"The restraining order was served this morning," he said. "Narcissa wasn't at her last known address, so they tried the ballet. Fortunately she wasn't there. However, on a hunch, I suggested the tube stations at either end of Hermione's commute, and she was found at the station three blocks from your home."

Hermione's fingers tightened on mine. Her expression had shifted from concerned to fearful. I rolled to my side, moving closer to her, and touched her cheek.

"You're alright. You're safe," I said gently. "I would never have let you leave on your own this morning."

I thought I'd imagined the worst. This, however, was far beyond anything I'd imagined possible. I'd assumed my bragging about Hermione's role at the Royal Ballet would be where Narcissa would cause trouble. The thought of her knowing where we lived, the cafes and restaurants we frequented, the Tube stations we used… It was all very disturbing.

"She's denying everything, of course," Corban continued. "Using the 'it's just a coincidence' excuse. I believe the only true coincidence was at the restaurant the night we celebrated your engagement. She didn't have an Oyster card on her, and since she was found outside the station Hermione attends daily — and because we all know she would never take the Tube — she was served and told to leave."

"She was waiting for me?" Hermione asked, the tremor in her voice stirring the anger and rage inside me again.

"We can only allege that she was," Corban explained. "We can easily subpoena her bank records to see if there are any public transport transactions, but I'm already certain there won't be. And she won't want that to happen anyway. I know her well enough to know that she won't want anyone to think she has no money, or very little money at the very least."

"Is she likely to stay away from me?"

"I can't say for certain," Corban told her truthfully. "But, she verbally abused you in front of witnesses, Hermione, and if she knows where you live and the Tube station you use, we can definitely use that as evidence that she's been following you. The restraining order states that she's not permitted to be within one hundred feet of you, nor is she to contact you in any way. The order Lucius has against her also still stands, so if she does come near either of you, she will be in breach of the orders and will be arrested."

Hermione moved to sit up, shoving her pillow behind her back. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply then exhaled in a long, slow breath. With less than ten weeks left until her due date, she didn't need the stress and anxiety this was causing. Her phone rang, and when she picked it up, her face drew into a frown.

"Corban, just give us a minute," I said, sitting up beside her.

"Good morning, Mrs Trelawney," Hermione said politely, but within a few seconds her eyes were wide and her hand gripped my forearm. "Yes, Mrs Trelawney, you're right, she shouldn't say things like that. No! Don't go back out there. Just stay inside. We'll call the police."

"Lucius? Hermione?" I heard the alarm in Corban's voice. "What's going on?"

"Our neighbour just rang. She was in the garden doing some kind of welcome to the day ritual," Hermione said more calmly than she looked. "And apparently there's — and I quote — 'a crazy woman at the security gate demanding to see her cheating ex-husband and his pregnant whore'."

"Fuck," Corban swore. "I'll call the police. I'll tell them you both have restraining orders and that one of your solicitors will be there ASAP. Do not go down there, Lucius."

He hung up the phone and I stared at the blank screen, wanting to throw it at the wall and head straight downstairs but knowing better than to not heed his words. The same fuming anger I'd felt the previous day began to course through me. I took several deep breaths, trying to calm myself, then looked at Hermione. She was watching me, an unreadable expression on her face.

"I'm so sorry about—"

"Who the fuck does she think she is?"

She threw the bedcovers back and stalked over to the window — waddled angrily might have been more apt, but laughing at her wouldn't have been the most constructive reaction.

"She thinks she can come here, to our home, and threaten us? It was bad enough that she insulted me in public, but this? This is where we live, Lucius. This is our private space. What the hell is wrong with her?"

"She screwed up our marriage, and her reputation," I answered, sitting on the window seat. "And I can only assume her extravagant lifestyle has finally caught up with her leaving her with no money."

"Surely she knows you won't give her more."

"Oh, she definitely knows I won't." I tapped the space beside me and Hermione sat down. Narcissa wouldn't see us if she was still ranting outside; the wall the gate was located in ran along the side of the building, and while she would have been able to see some of the garden, we were invisible to the security gate from our position. "She's seen you with me, and her daughter-in-law, and her former friends, and she would hate it. My guess is that she is trying to reinstate her standing to the echelons of society she's accustomed to, and to do so, she's making me out to be the bad guy. Unfortunately since you're the woman I've fallen madly in love with and—" I ran my hand across her belly, "—because of this, you've been dragged into her insanity as well."

"She's gone psycho because I'm pregnant?"

"Narcissa knew that I wanted more children, and while I knew she would never have another, she often taunted me that she would. Seeing you pregnant… All she would see is that you've given me something she used as a means to manipulate me. She's gone psycho because I'm happy and she's miserable."

"What a bitch."

I laughed, "Yes. She's been called that on numerous occasions."

"I'm not scared of her," Hermione said fiercely. "I'll never be scared of her. Does she even know that?"

"I doubt it. She's used a combination of manipulation, temper, and tears her entire life to get what she wants. Unfortunately we all allowed her behaviour rather than stand up to it." I wrapped my arm around Hermione's shoulders and kissed her temple. "She's never come up against anyone like you though."

"I only had a one percent chance of getting pregnant, Lucius." She ran her hand over her belly, pausing and smiling at what I assumed was a kick. She glanced up at me and I saw the flicker in her eyes; the determined, the fierce, the 'don't mess with me' flicker. "Narcissa needs to be aware that she has a less than one percent chance of making me feel less than what I am."