Chapter Eleven
Saturday, October 3
"And Gray takes the quaffle for Gryffindor! Oh, and down he goes. Nice throw, Brocklehurst, and now Ravenclaw Chaser, Andrews, has possession and is speeding toward the goals…."
A cheer arose from the stands as Ravenclaw scored another ten points. A crowd of their supporters waved small blue and bronze pendants, jeering at the morose looking Gryffindors who returned their laughs with sour expressions. The wide seventy-point lead they had over the other house, thanks in large part to Chaser Ginny Weasley, was swiftly closing as Ravenclaw scored a third goal in a row.
The new Gryffindor Seeker, Martin Mwangi, hovered above his teammates, scanning the arena for any flash of gold. He shot off suddenly, his body a streak of crimson as he raced for the Snitch; his rival, Anthony Fangori, hot on his broomtail.
The brisk October morning wind cut a swatch of chilly air through the crowd of students and spectators, and, shivering, Hermione cast another warming spell onto her mittens.
"Was it always this bloody cold during my matches?" Harry asked, his teeth clattering together.
"Oh, just wait until the ones in November."
"I'd have already had the Snitch in hand," he groaned, watching the seekers move across the pitch with longing.
Hermione gave him a sharp, sideways glance. "Then you should have come back for eighth year," she said, a bit haughtily.
"You're never going to let me live that down," Harry chuckled, nudging her with his body. Gryffindor won back the quaffle, scoring three more goals on the Keeper, before it's repossession by Ravenclaw.
The score was one-hundred thirty points to forty, in Gryffindor's favor, when Hermione and Harry crept off the stands, breaking away from the crowd of rowdy Quidditch fans.
"I'm sure Ginny will understand later," Harry whispered as they made their way past the edge of the wards and apparated to the entrance of Hogsmeade.
An unexpectedly early chill of winter had settled upon the Scottish highlands, turning the grass pale with frost and prematurely coloring the trees. The vibrant oranges and reds set the mood for Halloween, and decorations were already being put up in the small wizarding village. A full sized skeleton danced in the window of Zonko's Joke Shop, and Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop had magicked cutouts of colorful paper leaves to fall continuously on their new stationary display.
"Hungry?" Harry asked, his breath coming out a small, white puff.
"Ravenous," she chuckled, rubbing her belly, and Harry steered them toward the Three Broomsticks.
Despite the crisp afternoon, Hermione was content. It had been a long time, since the tent in the Forest of Dean to be precise, that she had had her best friend to herself. She missed the familiarity and feeling of belonging they had together, as if he were the brother she never had. As much as she cared for Ginny, Hermione was not in the mood to listen to Quidditch talk or watch them snog.
Though they walked to the Three Broomsticks, she couldn't help but feel the empty presence that nagged her just on the fringes of her psyche. Ron's absence hurt more than she would ever admit.
The warm rush of air immediately brought feeling back to Hermione's numb face as they entered the pub, and the smell of stew and fresh baked bread practically had her salivating.
Not many students populated the normally busy pub, especially for a Saturday. Hermione was sure the flood would come once the game was finished, but she was glad for it being mostly empty as they secured a booth toward the back.
On the other side, a mixed group of fifth year Hufflepuff and Slytherin students stared at them. An animated one touched his forehead where Harry's scar was and spoke in whispers to his friends. One of the group, the younger Greengrass sister, Hermione realised, turned around to get a glimpse then quickly back to face her friends.
Rosemerta swept by, took their orders then retreated to the back to bring them a pumpkin juice each.
Hermione was the first to break the easy silence. "So, how's Ron?"
Harry's fingers played with a cork coaster, "He's….well, he's still a bit bothered with the news," he said, then added in apology, "Not that there's anything wrong with you or you having a baby or the whole thing…."
She rolled her eyes. He was bothered? After he stormed out of the Weasley home, she had hoped he would come to his senses. It had been weeks now with no word from him, though. She wished she could coldly throw away the thought of him, wished she could rid herself of the worry and heartache he caused, but Hermione was not so callous. Their seven years of friendship was worth more to her than that.
"How are your new living arrangements working out?" Harry asked, quickly changing the subject.
"It's alright. Having privacy again is wonderful."
"And Malfoy? How is he?" Hermione doubted Harry gave a fig about him; the animosity in his voice was palpable.
"He's alright, too."
Brooding and distant, she thought. But he left her alone, for the most part.
"Are you making sure your doors are locked? If he does or says anything to you, Hermione, you promise you'll tell us straight away?"
"Harry, he hasn't done anything, I promise. I mean, he's still a bit of a wanker, not sure that will ever change, but otherwise, he's civil."
She was loath to admit it aloud, but Draco's presence provided an odd sort of comfort. Even with his surly and combative disposition, he knew what she was going through. He had experienced the same trauma, and for all her friend's condolences, he had felt the same hurt she did, knew the pain as deep as herself, and they were connected now and forever because of it.
They were survivors at sea, clinging to the same driftwood as they watched everyone else sail away.
Harry paused for a moment, looking down at his filled mug in contemplation. His next words burst out of him unexpectedly. "It's just bullshit! I don't understand why they can't give you a separate room. After everything you've been through, and you're stuck with him, the one who did this to you. I'm so sorry, Hermi-"
"Stop. Just, bloody stop. I'm so sick of hearing how sorry everyone is! Things happened and there's nothing I can do to change it," she snapped, much harsher than she intended. Her voice softened at his sheepish expression.
"I know things can never go back to how they used to be; we always knew it would be different after you defeated Voldemort. We just didn't realize it would be this different," she gestured to her belly. "But for my sake, can you please try to get along with Draco? He's not our enemy anymore."
Harry signed and gave her a small smile as their stews arrived. "I'll...I'll try. For you."
As they ate, they fell into an easier conversation about her studies and his training.
"Look, Hermione, I need to tell you something." Harry rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and met her eyes with his piercing green gaze. "We have intelligence that Greyback is here in Scotland."
Hermione's skin itched and her throat tightened. Thinking of Greyback made her nauseous, made every inch of her feel dirty and disgusting. And now imagining him free in the world, wrecking havoc wherever he went, doing to others what he did to her...she felt herself flush with rage.
"I'd gleaned that from your owl last week."
"Yes, but," Harry paused and cast a quick muffliato. "Look, keep this between the two of us. Don't even let Ginny on that I told you. The wards of Hogwarts aren't what they used to be. The Death Eaters seriously damaged the ancient protective magic surrounding the castle. And now that Dumbledore isn't around anymore…"
"We're vulnerable," Hermione finished. Harry nodded. "Is that why there are more aurors at the school?"
He nodded again, his expression pained.
"A witch and a wizard were bitten on the night of the last full moon, in Essex….by Greyback. They were taken to St. Mungos, but have escaped. We think he's creating a werewolf pack."
"Just because they were bitten doesn't mean they will become like him," Monsters, the thought sending a shiver through her. "Think of Lupin, of Bill."
"He's not biting people at random, Hermione, we think he's choosing them for a reason. Almost all of them have a history of violence and records with the aurors longer than my arm. There was a wizard on probation and two more with ties to the Death Eaters who've all disappeared within the span of a couple months. And they've been spotted in northern Scotland as well."
Hermione shook her head to rid herself of the baffling questions. Why here? Why now? Her mind raced regardless of her efforts. Of all the places in the world in which Greyback could hide, he came back here in the midst of a full manhunt. What does he want?
Harry was thinking along the same lines. "It makes no sense why he'd come back to the UK."
Unless, she finally reached the unthinkable conclusion. Unless he's coming back for them.
Unbidden, the words he spoke to Draco in the cellar came back to her: When the full moon comes, I'm lookin' for you, boy. Was he still preoccupied with his threat, still infatuated with ruining their lives?
And what else might Greyback know? Though word of her pregnancy hadn't made the Daily Prophet yet, she was sure word had spread back home from student to parents by now.
Her mind stopped cold as she touched upon the thought she had been avoiding for months now - the very real possibility that her child was that monster's and not Draco's.
It sent a shiver of anticipation and dread through her. What would she do if it was Greybacks…
Today, today I will finally know.
"But whatever his plans are, we'll stop him," Harry continued, unaware of her internal battle.
Elfrida the Mender had barely leapt back into place in the stony passage when she heard a voice call out: "About time you got back."
The sun had just touched upon the western horizon when Hermione made her way back to the castle after Harry's visit. "You told me we would start after dusk," Hermione replied, hanging her cloak and scarf and walking over to his side.
Draco's blond head hung over an iron cauldron set on their sitting room table. The brew bubbled and hissed, it's frothy contents roiling and ready to spill over. He lowered the flame with his wand, and gave her an irritated look.
"Well, we can't wait much longer or the nux myristica will start to deteriorate. Do you know how expensive it was?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, and peered down into the cauldron. The potion had settled and now reflected back a creamy pearlescent color.
"Yes, you've mentioned it once or twice," she muttered. In fact, the only conversations they'd had since the library seemed to be about the paternity potion. When the ingredients would arrive, the proper cut for the angel's trumpet leaves, who he would invite to the party when they discovered he wasn't the father...
"And difficult to acquire," he continued, rummaging around in his potion kit. "Where in the bloody hell…"
Considering its frequent use in poisons, Hermione wasn't the least bit surprised that a Malfoy had difficulty in procuring the rare plant, but she kept that to herself.
"Ha! Found it," Draco cried, pulling a slim knife from its sheath. He brought the razor-sharp edge to his left palm and cut. Vivid red blood started to pool there, and he raised his hand above the cauldron.
"Wait!" She gripped his elbow. "We need to wait a bit longer - it's still too dark. The recipe says to wait until the potion is white," she said, looking about for the Baby and Brew potion book.
Draco shook her hand off, adding the three droplets of blood required heedless of her cry.
"Draco, it wasn't ready! You've just wasted-"
"It is ready, Granger! It looked white enough to me. Between the two of us, I far surpass you in potion making, just ask Slughorn."
"That is absolutely rubbish," she huffed and then paused, turning back toward the cauldron.
The potion was now emitting clouds of grey smoke, dissolving the liquid and filling the room. As quickly as it expanded, the smoke constructed back to tendrils that crept along the rug as if searching for something.
Draco's face was an open book of curiosity as they both watched the slithering smoke crept toward him, it's arms gliding up his body, stopping at his waist. He looked at her then, brows creased in uneasiness. Then in a flash of white, the smoke was gone, leaving an empty cauldron and an answer to their question.
Hermione's hand covered her mouth, her eyes blurry with sudden tears.
"No…." Draco whispered, his voice as faint as a breeze.
Hermione didn't need to read the results page to interpret the smoke's meaning.
The child she was carrying was going to be a Malfoy, afterall.
A/N:
Are you satisfied with the answer, my thirsty readers? Yes, I always planned for the child to be Draco's. Yes, I did love torturing you, thank you for asking ^_-
Thank you SO SO much for the reviews and words of encouragement! I hope you will all be satisfied by the end of the story, I just ask for a little more of your patience. Draco's perspective is up next with MUCH more interaction between the pair.