All of Harry Potter and anything related to it are the sole property of J.K. Rowling.

(Each title is derived from a song that, I believe, complements the overall narrative, if not the individual chapter.)

Somewhere on the edge of London, March–April 1997

Hermione's Point of View

"Which one of those boys was it? I'll kill him; I'll kill them both," Daniel Granger ranted angrily, pacing around the living room.

"Honey, calm down," Emma Granger said worriedly as she watched her husband. I knew she was shocked and scared, but she was doing her best to comfort me.

"You are kidding, aren't you?" He scoffed at his wife. "How can I calm down when our daughter is carrying some bastard's child? Do you know what this will do to our reputation? To her future?" That was a strange thing to hear my dad say; I had never known him to care what people thought, and the sentiment almost made me laugh at how Slytherin it sounded.

"It was neither Harry nor Ron," I stated, feeling drawn.

"I can't believe this is happening. What kind of school is that anyway, where you can go around…?" he waved his hand, unable to finish the sentence. "You're getting an abortion," he said, pointing an angry finger at me while my mum gasped in shock.

"No, I'm not," I said, and I was really starting to feel as if I was having an out-of-body experience. It was as though I was watching a play in my own house. It was about my life, about the lives of my parents, but the actors were getting it all wrong. We weren't like this.

"Daniel? How can you suggest such a thing?" My mum stood up, angry herself now. This was not what I wanted. I hadn't wanted them to become angry with each other.

"It's alright, mum," I said, my tone sounded curiously dead.

"What?" she asked in outrage, turning on me now, but I just met her green hazel eyes, feeling as though I was watching her through a fuzzy screen. I was also aware of a headache setting in.

"I couldn't have an abortion anyway," I said to her, and heard my dad scoff.

"What do you mean, sweetheart?" She asked and sat down on the couch beside me, taking my hand, which she frowned at and started rubbing like it was cold. Maybe it was, but I couldn't feel it.

"I am already five months pregnant," I replied.

"Oh, this just gets better!" My dad yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "I swear, if I see either of those boys anywhere near here, I will kill them."

"It isn't them!" I screamed, shooting to my feet suddenly and then fainted.

An hour later, I watched in wonder as I saw the fuzzy baby on the screen, his arms waving around, and the heartbeat was sounding throughout the room. Everything about him looked perfect, and I couldn't stop staring.

"He is looking good, very healthy, but there are a few things we should discuss," the doctor said, putting the wand away and wiping the gel off my stomach long before I was ready for him to stop.

"What is it, Doctor?" My mum asked, my dad was standing against the wall, still fuming. He had only softened once, when the picture was first put on the screen and the heartbeat was heard. Then he met my eyes, and the disappointment and anger flared right back.

"I don't know if you are aware of this, Hermione," the doctor said, talking directly to me, "but you have a condition called placenta previa."

"I know," I said with a nod. "My doctor in Scotland is monitoring me," I told him. My dad growled, but we all ignored him.

"Very well," he said. "I also believe your blood pressure got very high today. Stress is not good for you right now," he said, and gave a look at my dad before looking back at me. "Do you have any plans?" he asked me.

"Yes," I said, and my mum came over to take my hand.

"We can discuss all this later, sweetheart," she said, sounding worried.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "It's alright," I told her, and then I looked back at the doctor, who seemed like the most reasonable person in the world to me at the moment. "I'll be putting my baby up for adoption."

"Hermione, I don't think..." My mum started, but the doctor cut her off.

"That is certainly an option," he said with understanding, reaching into a draw. "I have a brochure you can look at. If you have any questions, any questions at all, please be sure to come see me."

"I will, thank you," I said, giving him a tentative smile.

"This is a big decision you are making, Hermione. Please be sure to consider all your options and choose the one that is best for you. Perhaps, when tempers have cooled and the shock has worn off some, you and your parents can discuss it."

"Okay," I agreed, and risked a look at my dad. He was looking at me with shock in his brown eyes and something I couldn't name, and it made me frown.

"You really do need to avoid stress, Hermione," he said again, reinforcing it around the room. In my peripheral vision, I saw my dad give a single nod in agreement.

"Don't forget your pictures," he said, and leaned over to the ultrasound machine, where he pulled away three pictures of my fuzzy baby, and I took them eagerly, looking down to see the perfect profile of his face.

"Thank you," I breathed, unable to look away.

I didn't see my dad for two days; he was avoiding me. He had locked himself in his study, only coming out for meals and brief, terse exchanges with my mum. My mum, on the other hand, seemed to be a constant sad and worried shadow who would mutter, "Don't worry," to me at random moments. It really didn't help, but I was determined not to let myself get too worked up. This baby was more important than me now.

When he did appear again, he looked much calmer than the last time I had seen him. We all spent days talking about my adoption plans. Every time it dissolved into an argument, he would leave the room, saying he needed some air. Surprisingly, my dad was the most opposed to the idea. He said he couldn't bear to give up his grandchild, even if it was born out of a terrible mistake.

It had hurt to hear that. Being with Draco didn't feel like a mistake to me right now. Even if I couldn't remember everything, my journal had become comprehensive enough that I knew it to be true. I had spent hours one day writing everything I could think of—everything I thought important anyway. It was during one of the short-lived arguments that I suggested they adopt the baby.

Later in the week, I managed to convey the importance of protecting the baby. I spoke of the war in the magical world and the dangers that lurked for anyone who was muggle-born. I told them about Voldemort and the Death Eaters, pointing out all the terrorist activity that had been going on in the city, revealing it had really been Death Eaters that caused it.

That is when it was decided that the family would move to Australia in the summer. It was something my parents had wanted to do for years but hadn't because of me. My mum even has a cousin there that she is close to, who she knew would be happy to have us stay for a while.

I allowed my parents to believe I had agreed to go with them while always knowing I couldn't. It was knowing that that led me to the conclusion I was going to have to look further into the Obliviation spell. I wanted to know if there was a variation that could be reversed.

My parents continued to be resistant to the idea of adoption and told me I was being absurd in my idea for them to raise the child as their own. "This is not 1950, Hermione," my mum had said one day, shaking her head in disbelief. "You can't just pretend that this baby is your brother. It's not fair to you, to us, or to the baby."

Finally, they agreed to go with me to meet with a lawyer who specialised in adoption and family law. It was almost time to go back to school, something my dad was still arguing against. Eventually, they both agreed to complete everything with the lawyer on my behalf, and after meeting with me, the lawyer also agreed and assured me that he would handle everything with care and confidentiality.

He explained while they were in the initial meeting that the adoption process would be easier if I had the father sign the papers too, giving up his parental rights and responsibilities. He said that it would avoid any potential legal complications or disputes in the future.

My dad had looked almost triumphant at that, thinking I would have to reveal who it was, but the lawyer said the line would just say 'father' until it was signed. I promised to have the unmentioned boy sign when my parents forwarded the completed contract to me.

All the way home, my dad had argued about how they were going to know eventually anyway. It was then I explained that it would put everyone in further danger if they knew. Another argument had almost broken out until I caved and gave some details.

Details such as his family's commitments in the magical world meant he was on the opposite side of the war. My dad had been appalled once again and spent another day fuming in his disappointment in me. But not before he expressed his disbelief that I could believe myself in love with someone who was apparently an enemy. He accused me of being naive, reckless, and irresponsible. It had hurt, and I couldn't even dispute it because I agreed. It didn't change anything, however.

Malfoy Manor March–April 1997

Draco's Point of View

In the early hours of the morning, in Malfoy Manor, I jolted awake from a nightmare that had appeared all too real. The dream had been filled with snakes slithering around me, hissing, and sinking their fangs into my pale flesh. I had seen bodies lifeless and strewn across the floor, their eyes wide open and frozen in terror, and their mouths twisted in silent screams.

My parents had also lain dead, killed by the Dark Lord for their failure to capture Harry Potter. I had seen a reflection of myself lying in a crimson pool of blood, with Dark Marks branded all over my body. And then I saw Hermione; she was being hauled towards the Dark Lord, and it had been her screams that still rung in my ears as I awoke. It was a chilling reminder of the reality I was living in, a reality I wished I could escape from.

I had been tortured earlier for displeasing my master, who had used the Cruciatus Curse on me until I lost consciousness. It had taken only an embarrassingly short amount of time, but perhaps that was what had saved my sanity. I was all too familiar with the tale of the Longbottom's; it was a kind of horror story to me, only now I heard it with the twisted glee of my aunt reminiscing on the screams.

I was uncertain how I now found myself in my room, but I doubted it was either of my parents who had brought me here. My mother may have wished to, but my father was too cowed by his master and was holding a firm leash on his wife at the moment, if only to hide her from further wrath. I thought perhaps Jomny had risked his own safety to lay me on the enchanted blankets on the floor, heal my wounds, and soothe my pain. It hadn't been only the Cruciatus I had suffered since I got home.

I glanced over and saw my parents asleep on my bed, where they had resided for over a year now, ever since our 'house guest' had claimed their bedroom as his own. Since the Dark Lord had taken over Malfoy Manor and turned it into his stronghold, forcing my family to live in fear and servitude. To be reduced to such insignificance within the confines of our own home, our own place of power, was indeed a bitter draught to consume.

The distant wail of a baby echoed down the hall, causing me to wince. Hadn't that been a horrifying thing to learn when I got home? My aunt and the Dark Lord somehow managed to conceive a child using some dark magic and bring it to term in an astonishingly short amount of time. I was certain she had not been pregnant at Christmas time.

This led me to ponder what the formula was and whether I could do something with it for Hermione. I would ensure it was safe first, of course; I wouldn't risk her or my son with something dark that could potentially harm them.

Merely thinking about her was dangerous now, so I rolled over onto my back and attempted to meditate. I needed to fortify my Occlumency shields and maintain them. I couldn't rely on the rooms' special power now. I was aware of too much outside of it to protect the secret that way now.

The door crashed open a minute later, jolting me from my thoughts. I could sense that both of my parents had awakened, but the only one to sit upright was my mother.

"Cissy, shut this brat up now," my deranged aunt insisted, but thankfully, she didn't throw the child like she had the previous time. This time, she levitated the basket over towards my mother. My mother was on her feet in an instant to pick up the baby girl. It wasn't her sister she feared, but Voldemort. If he were to be disturbed, he would punish them all. I was utterly clueless what the purpose of the child's existence was, but it was clear neither parent appreciated her presence nor the noise she made.

I considered for a moment, attempting to escape on my own. To whisk Hermione somewhere else, somewhere safe, a place where we were unknown and we weren't forced to take sides in a war. I loved her enough to do that, but as I heard the frightened voice of my mother attempting to soothe the baby, I realised the impossibility of my plan.

No matter what I thought of my father right now, I loved my mother too much to leave her to this fate. I turned my face towards my window, allowing silent tears to trace a path down my face, mourning a future I understood was unattainable. When I heard my mother leave the room, the baby now sufficiently pacified enough to attempt it, I hastily wiped the tears from my face and resumed my Occlumency practice.

"Draco, Draco, Draco," Voldemort said in a soft and mocking voice. He was sitting on a throne made of bones and skulls, his red eyes gleaming ominously in the dim light of a room that used to be bright. His wand was held casually in his lap, an ostensibly nonchalant gesture, yet it was enough to serve as a chilling reminder of his readiness to unleash havoc at a moment's notice.

"You disappoint me. You have been gifted a golden opportunity to serve me, to make your father proud, to earn my favour. And yet you appear to have been wasting your time as well as my own." I remained silent, my gaze fixed on his shoulder. He wasn't seeking a response, not truly. His intent was to humiliate me, to make me feel worthless and afraid. I could feel his cold gaze on me, attempting to pierce through to my soul.

"Perhaps you are not a true Slytherin. Perhaps you are not a true pureblood. Perhaps you are not even a true wizard. Perhaps you are nothing but a weak and pathetic mud-blood-lover." The Death Eaters laughed at this insult. I felt a surge of anger and defiance in my chest, but I quickly suppressed it. I was aware that showing any emotion would only make things worse.

"Yes, your little friends are full of tales of your penchant for making eyes at a certain mud-blood. Miss Parkinson, I hear, is most disheartened by the notion of it." I remained silent and hoped my face was giving nothing away. "Why do you stare at a mud-blood, Draco?"

The approach of two footsteps from behind me was soon followed by the dull echo of Severus's voice, a monotonous drone that filled the room. "My Lord. I know these children, and they are all prone to flights of fancy and exaggeration. They are teenagers, after all. I believe these rumours are fueled by Miss Parkinson's upset over a broken engagement. As to the accusation, well, the girl is Potter's friend, and Draco has always spent time in silent feuds with those insufferable three. Believe me, my Lord, those three are seldom seen apart." The Dark Lord cast a contemplative glance at Severus but then shifted his attention back to me.

"You will kill him, Draco," the Dark Lord said in his uncaring voice. "The end of June is all the time I am giving you. You have that cabinet done by then and kill Dumbledore that same night, or yours and your parents' lives are forfeit," he told me. I swallowed and nodded, dying a bit more inside. "And Draco," he said, drawing my eyes back in his direction, but I was smart enough never to meet his. "You will use the killing curse. You will prove your loyalty to me." I nodded again.

"SAY IT!" He screamed suddenly, making me jump, and others laughed at my reaction.

"Yes, my Lord," I responded, and was glad my voice sounded as void as I was feeling.

"Good!" he said, appearing as pleased as his grotesque face was capable of. "Something very important to me is located in that room, and my beloved Bella is going to retrieve it. Aren't you Bella?" he said, turning to regard my aunt, where she stood by the wall, gazing at him with adoration on her insane face.

"Yes, My Lord," she replied.

"Go study, Draco. And no more distractions. I will be most displeased if you fail me," he told me.

"Yes, my Lord," I replied, and then walked out as calmly as I could. Snickers following in my wake.

I was sitting in a dark corner of the library, surrounded by dark artifacts and darker books. My quill was rhythmically tapping against the parchment of my notebook, the one I used to record everything I had done in my project to repair the Vanishing Cabinet to date. But I was distracted and lost in thoughts I shouldn't have been having. I didn't notice the footsteps approaching me until a familiar voice snapped me out of my reverie.

"I do not know nor particularly care what has you distracted Draco, but if it is something you wish to conceal, you will cease thinking about it now," Severus Snape said, careful to keep his voice down, his tone no less harsh and cold for the discretion. I glanced up and saw my godfather standing over me, his black robes billowing around him. Sev's eyes were piercing, and his expression was stern, but I was aware my godfather cared about me. I merely wished he would leave me in peace. I understood Severus wanted to help me, but we both were aware the Dark Lord had ordered me to do this on my own.

"Sorry, sir," I muttered with long habit, lowering my gaze back to my open notebook, but I was annoyed that I had lost focus again. Exhausted, I massaged my face, then noticed Sev subtly sliding a Pick-Me-Up Potion towards me. I drank it quickly and gratefully before handing the phial back.

"You have neither the time nor luxury to indulge in teenage drama," Sev continued, but understanding and worry were in his voice. "As much as I am loath to admit it, potions will not help you with this task. Show me what you have come up with so far in your rune scheme. Perhaps fresh eyes will see what you are obviously missing."

"Sev, you are aware I have to do this on my own," I said with a sigh.

"Looking over a few notes and making suggestions is not a lot of help," Severus replied, sitting down beside me. "Show me," he insisted. Reluctantly, I slid the notebook towards him. I was almost certain he was going to point out mistake after mistake as he turned the pages, but instead, he merely nodded his head. "Impressive work," he commented, then peered back at me.

"It is incomplete and flawed," I responded with annoyance, taking the book back.

"Have you considered the Arithmancy aspects of the Vanishing Cabinet?" I grimaced; I wasn't as well versed in Arithmancy as I should be. Funnily enough, I was aware of exactly who could help me with this part, but I would sooner die than involve her in this.

"I believe there are a number of Arithmancy books in here," Severus said, and I nodded.

"I was about to get them," I said resignedly. A baby's wail from the hall had us both turn our heads. Seconds later, my aunt's shrill voice was echoing through the manor, demanding her sister shut it up.

"What are they planning on doing with her?" I whispered and was aware my horror was evident. Showing any emotions inside this house now had become a dangerous thing, and I understood I was lucky it was Sev here and not anyone else when I posed that question.

"You really do not want to know, Draco," Severus responded in such a way that I was certain I really didn't. "Go look for your books. I'll close the door so you can study in peace." I gave a nod of acknowledgment and watched him go before shifting my attention to the stacks. I had always been aware that my family had some dark items, but now there appeared to be an excessive amount of them. I had to assume they had either been hidden from me or that a significant number of these didn't actually belong to us.

I found three books that appeared as if they might be of use to me, and that was when I spotted it. The book bore no title, but the engraved image on the cover was very suggestive of its subject. When I opened the pages of the dark manuscript, it was predominantly disturbing spells and rituals that required one or more pregnant females, babies, or children before their first magical maturity. However, it also contained the potion recipe for advancing pregnancy. I hastily put it in my bag along with the others and hoped that if anyone discovered it was missing, they would believe I had picked this one up by mistake.

Author's notes: - ForsakenKalika and RisingElpis. Thank you for leaving comments.