Caught Spying
A/N- Here's an exciting new and improved chapter five! Dive in and enjoy the journey ahead!.
Warnings: Torture, child murder and sexual assault are depicted in this chapter.
Chapter Five: Aftermath
A flash of green light and a muffled scream echoed through the dark, ornate room. A figure fell to the floor, their body limp and lifeless. The blonde-haired man stood over them with a triumphant smirk on his face. "Good job, my son," he said proudly to the young man at his side.
Draco Malfoy nodded in approval and then turned to the other members of his family, a look of evil glee in his eyes. He pointed his wand at the youngest child, who cowered in fear at the sight. "Crucio!" Draco shouted, relishing in her screams of pain and misery. Her family begged him to stop, but he paid no mind as he lifted the curse and immediately called out, "Avada Kedavra!"
The green light flashed once again as the young girl dropped lifelessly to the ground. "Hurry up, my son," Lucius Malfoy said impatiently.
Draco smirked and quickly followed his father's orders, shouting "Avada Kedavra" multiple times until all of the remaining family members lay dead at their feet. As they left the room, Draco couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for his brutal actions.
"So, are you prepared for the meeting tonight?" Lucius asked as they walked down the hallway
"I'm always prepared," Draco replied with confidence
"Good," Lucius stated before turning to leave.
Draco made his way to his room, thoughts of his Mudblood lover and their child filling his mind. He couldn't wait to show her who was truly in control and make her submit to him completely. With a devilish grin on his face, he entered the bathroom for a hot shower before heading off to a night that would solidify his place among the powerful Death Eaters.
It had only been a day since Hermione Granger left the hospital wing, but the faint scent of healing potions lingered in her thoughts. She clutched a carefully written list of potions that Madam Pomfrey had given her, each vital to her health and the well-being of the babies she was carrying. The matron had gently informed her that she was likely expecting twins or triplets, a revelation that filled Hermione with excitement and a hint of apprehension.
As she mulled over this news, Hermione recalled snippets of family history passed down through whispered conversations at home. On her father's side, there had been several instances of twins and triplets, a legacy that suddenly felt both daunting and strangely comforting. Moreover, her mother, still in the thick of her pregnancy, was expecting twins, which further complicated Hermione's emotions — a whirlwind of joy intertwined with the weight of familial expectations.
In the quiet moments of reflection, Hermione's mind drifted back to her childhood and a memory that had long been buried. At the tender age of five, she vividly remembered the grief that engulfed her family when her mother had miscarried her baby brother at six months along. The sombre mood that followed had cast a shadow over their home, yet no one ever spoke of it openly. It was a fragile subject, and even now, Hermione found herself hesitating, unsure if she truly wanted to delve into the reasons behind such loss. The thought lingered heavily in her heart, wrapped in both curiosity and sorrow, and she silently vowed to cherish the new life she was nurturing, no matter the challenges that lay ahead.
In three to four months, Hermione knew her pregnancy would start to become visibly noticeable. It was November, and the thought of her babies being born in July loomed heavily in her mind. The realization that in approximately 37 to 39 weeks, she would take on the monumental role of motherhood filled her with a mixture of excitement and dread. The prospect of caring for two tiny lives frightened her deeply, especially given the circumstances of their conception. She found herself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions, suspecting there must have been some sinister reason behind Draco's actions—perhaps a misguided attempt to create more formidable followers for the Dark Lord. Despite the dark shadows that loomed over her, one fact remained unwavering in her heart: she would never give her children up, no matter what.
In an effort to escape her spiralling thoughts, Hermione consciously redirected her focus as she made her way to Potions class. Upon entering the classroom, she noticed Professor Snape already engrossed in writing a variety of ingredients on the chalkboard, his precise handwriting flowing effortlessly across the surface. His presence always had a way of both intimidating and captivating the students.
Gathering her courage, Hermione approached the front of the classroom and spoke softly, "Professor, may I have my potions?" Her voice barely cut through the ambient murmurs of the other students.
Snape turned, his dark eyes narrowing as they fell upon Hermione. To her astonishment, he offered her an extremely rare smile—a gesture both unexpected and oddly reassuring. He strode over to her with a practiced grace, bringing with him a small collection of coloured potions from his desk.
"Here you are, Miss Granger," he said, his voice steady and almost gentle as he handed her the delicate bottles.
"Thank you," Hermione replied, a hint of warmth frosting her tense demeanour as she accepted the red, green, pink, and blue potions. Carefully, she placed each one into her discreetly crafted potion box, designed for convenience and to ensure safety.
As the class progressed, Hermione was acutely aware of the ticking clock on the wall, feeling as though the lesson had begun and wrapped up all too quickly. The discussions on complex mixtures and their properties drifted in and out of her mind, overshadowed by the weight of her thoughts. After what felt like mere moments, the bell rang, signalling the end of the class. She gathered her belongings—a heavy bag slung over one shoulder and her potion box clasped firmly in her hands—as she made her way back to her room.
As she walked, a shiver of intuition crawled up her spine, compelling her to glance behind her. Almost in slow motion, she turned to see Ron rushing towards her, his face a mix of concern and determination. Her heart raced, not just from the surprise of his sudden appearance but from the unpredictable nature of her own emotions.
"Hermione, wait!" Ron called after her, a hint of urgency in his voice.
She turned, slightly annoyed. "Ron, shouldn't you be in Divination?" she replied, her brow furrowing at his interruption.
"Yeah, I should be," he admitted, nervously scratching the back of his head. "But Dumbledore asked me to find you and let you know that your parents are here." With that, Ron turned and hurried back toward the tower where his Divination class awaited, his steps quickening as he disappeared down the corridor
Stunned, Hermione stood still for a few moments, processing the news. The thought of her parents being in the castle filled her with a mix of joy and nervousness. After gathering her thoughts, she dashed toward Dumbledore's office, her heart racing with both anticipation and concern.
Once she reached the entrance, Hermione paused in front of the intricately carved statues that stood sentinel before the Headmaster's door. The stone figures seemed to watch her intently as she took a steadying breath. "Lemon cheesecake," she pronounced clearly, remembering the quirky password. Almost immediately, the statues sprang to life, their movements smooth and deliberate, as the stairs began to whirl and twist around her. Without hesitation, she stepped onto the moving staircase and felt it glide upward as she clutched the banister for balance. The familiar journey brought back memories of the mysteries and lessons she had encountered in this very place. As she approached Dumbledore's door, a mix of excitement and anxiety swirled within her.
Reaching the top, she knocked lightly on the polished wood. A soft, inviting voice called from within, "Come in." Hermione pushed the door open, her heart pounding, and stepped inside.
To her immense relief and delight, she saw her mother and father seated in Dumbledore's cozy office. The warm light reflected off the walls lined with books and odd artifacts. The moment her parents noticed her, they stood up, their faces lighting up with overwhelming emotion. They rushed toward her, wrapping her in a tight embrace that instantly made her feel safe and cherished.
"Oh, my baby girl," her father exclaimed, tears brimming in his eyes as he held her close.
"Hermione, are you okay?" her mother asked, her voice trembling slightly as the sound of her tears filled the air. The worry etched on her mother's face made Hermione's heartache.
As Hermione felt the warmth of her mother's tears soaking into her shoulder, a rush of love and relief overwhelmed her. She leaned into the embrace, savouring the familiar comfort of her parents. "Yes, Mum! I'm fine! I'm so happy to see you!" Hermione replied, her voice muffled by the softness of their tight-knit embrace. The feeling was almost surreal as if they had been apart for years rather than weeks.
After a moment, scrunching her face in concern, Hermione asked, "You must have read my letter. But why are you here?"
"Hermione, please, have a seat," a voice interjected, cutting through the emotional moment. It was Dumbledore, his expression calm and serious.
Hermione and her parents settled into the wooden chairs facing Dumbledore's imposing desk, the weight of the situation heavy in the air. The room, filled with odd trinkets and the scent of old books, felt like a sanctuary of secrets and wisdom.
"Hermione," Dumbledore began, his tone gentle yet firm, "your father and I have decided that you should leave Hogwarts and return home."
A spark ignited within her, and Hermione's expression hardened. "No," she replied sharply, anger tinging her voice. "This is my home, Mum."
"Hermione," her father started, his voice low and soothing, trying to reach her over the rising tide of emotion.
"Dad, you have to understand," she interjected, desperation creeping into her tone. "This is my home now. I can't go back to being a Muggle. This world—this magical world—it's where I belong. I have friends here. I've finally found where I fit in." She paused, her heart racing. "Please don't take this the wrong way. I love it here. I love being able to use magic, create potions, and transform things."
Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at her parents, pleading with them to understand her perspective. "Mum, Dad, I beg you, please don't force me to leave," she implored, her voice breaking with emotion.
Her parents exchanged glances and a change washed over their expressions. Slowly, smiles began to form on their faces. They had always known their daughter to be strong-minded and fiercely independent. The realization struck them: if they were to take her away from the magical world that had become her home, it would shatter her spirit.
At that moment, Hermione felt a flicker of hope ignited within her, and she believed that perhaps her love for this world could bridge the gap between them.
"Hermione, are you sure about this?" her mother questioned, a note of hesitation creeping into her voice as she looked at her daughter with concern.
"Yes, Mum, I am quite certain," Hermione replied, her tone firm yet reassuring.
After exchanging heartfelt goodbyes filled with lingering hugs and promises to stay in touch, Hermione watched as her parents turned to leave, their figures slowly disappearing down the path. With a mix of excitement and determination bubbling in her chest, she made her way to the library, the comforting smell of old books and polished wood enveloping her as she entered.
Once inside, she settled into her favourite nook by the large window, sunlight streaming in and illuminating her stack of missed homework assignments. Surrounded by towering bookshelves, she opened her notebook. She began to immerse herself in the familiar world of spells and potion recipes, grateful for the quiet solitude that allowed her to concentrate.
Draco stood in a vast, dimly lit chamber, its atmosphere thick with an eerie tension, illuminated by the flickering glow of a vibrant green fire that crackled in a grand fireplace. Shadows danced along the stone walls, creating ghostly shapes that seemed to mirror the unease in the air. As Draco scanned the room, he recognized several familiar figures. Mr. Parkinson and his wife stood conversing in low whispers, their expressions a mix of anticipation and apprehension. Nearby, Mr. Crabbe was accompanied by his wife and their young son, the child's wide eyes reflecting both curiosity and innocence amidst the darker gathering.
The room buzzed with the sounds of popping apparitions, each arrival punctuated by the abruptness of departure and a whisper of displaced air. More Death Eaters continued to materialize, their black cloaks swirling ominously around them, adding to the gathering's sinister ambiance. A palpable silence soon enveloped the room, compelling everyone present to bow their heads in unison to the imposing figure standing at the forefront, draped in an elegant, billowing black cloak.
"Arise, my loyal followers," the figure commanded, his voice resonating with authority and an unsettling charm.
Draco's heart raced as he lifted his gaze, staring at the man whose very presence commanded unwavering respect and fear. "Tonight is a special night," the figure continued, his voice smooth yet chilling. "Tonight, we welcome new followers to our cause and shall share great news that will reshape our future." The air crackled with anticipation, and Draco felt an electric thrill at the prospect of what was to come.
"The young Malfoy has completed his mission. That Mudblood friend of Potter's is pregnant!" The words echoed in Draco's mind, bouncing around like rocks in an empty well.
The Dark Lord had summoned them all to his lair and, with great fanfare, announced that Draco's mission had been successful. The Death Eaters clapped and cheered, their eyes gleaming with malice and triumph.
"Draco, step up and receive your mark of loyalty," the Dark Lord commanded.
Draco stepped forward, his heart pounding in his chest. He rolled up his sleeve and presented his arm to the Dark Lord, who pointed his wand at Draco's pale skin and uttered the incantation. A searing pain shot through Draco's body, but he gritted his teeth and refused to cry out. He couldn't show any weakness in front of the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters.
When the mark was finally etched onto his skin, Draco stepped back and watched as his fellow Slytherins and a few Ravenclaws received their marks as well. Blaise was the last one, and Draco couldn't help but smirk haughtily at him.
"Mr. Zabini, you have a mission," the Dark Lord announced.
"Yes, my lord," Blaise said, bowing deeply.
"Your task is to watch over the Mudblood at Hogwarts and make sure she comes to no harm. Also, Draco has informed me that two of your Slytherin classmates are friends with the Mudblood. Please remind them what it means to consort with the enemy."
"Yes, my lord," Blaise said, his expression unreadable.
As the night wore on, the Death Eaters indulged in their favourite pastime - the torture of Muggles, Mudbloods, and even Half-bloods who had dared oppose the Dark Lord. And Draco couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that settled in his stomach.
As the night came to an end.
After the Dark Lord disappeared, Draco approached Blaise with a letter. He looked around to see the other new Death Eaters students just waiting to return to Hogwarts with Blaise.
"Read this when you get back to Hogwarts," he said with a smirk after handing the letter to him.
"Sure, mate," Blaise smirked and then disappeared with the other students.
Draco watched as Blaise vanished, his heart pounding. The letter contained vital information, a secret he couldn't risk speaking aloud. He only hoped Blaise would understand its importance.
As the last of the students departed, Draco felt a cold hand on his shoulder. He turned to face his aunt Bellatrix, her wild eyes gleaming with pride.
"Well done, nephew," she purred. "The Dark Lord is most pleased with your work. Tell me, how did you manage to impregnate the Mudblood without arousing suspicion?"
Draco swallowed hard, forcing a smirk. "I have my ways, Aunt Bella. A true Slytherin never reveals all his secrets."
Bellatrix cackled, pinching his cheek roughly. "Oh, you are your father's son. Speaking of which, Lucius wishes to see you in his study."
Draco nodded, his stomach churning as he made his way through the dark corridors of Malfoy Manor. He found his father in the study, a glass of Firewhisky in hand.
"Father," Draco said.
"You've done well, son," Lucius said, his voice barely above a whisper. "The Dark Lord is pleased."
Draco nodded, swallowing hard. "Thank you, Father."
"Now, we must ensure the child is born," Lucius continued. "It will be a powerful weapon for our cause."
Draco's stomach churned at the thought, but he maintained his composure. "Of course, Father. I'll do whatever is necessary."
A couple of busy days had flown by for Hermione as she immersed herself in the mountain of homework she had fallen behind on during her time in the hospital wing. She sat at her desk late into the night, scribbling fervently on parchment, the faint glow of her wand illuminating her notes. Today, feeling somewhat caught up, Hermione decided to take a break and head to the Great Hall for a meal.
With a determined stride, she walked out of the warm, inviting Gryffindor Common Room, her mind still swirling with thoughts of potions and charms. The walls were adorned with the usual Gryffindor banners, and the air was filled with the distant sounds of laughter and chatter from her fellow students. As she made her way down the winding staircase, she absorbed the familiar sights, the portraits whispering and shifting as she passed.
As she turned a corner, her mind was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn't notice the figure standing in her path. Suddenly, she collided with something solid. Her instincts kicked in, and she braced for the impact, but before she could completely lose her balance, a pair of strong arms enveloped her, halting her fall.
"Whoa, easy there!" a deep voice exclaimed, steadying her.
"Thanks and sorry," Hermione replied, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and relief as she stepped back to take a proper look at her rescuer. It was Harry, a concerned look on his face.
She quickly glanced down at her abdomen to ensure she hadn't hurt herself in the mishap. Satisfied that she was fine, she looked back at Harry, a small smile creeping onto her face. Despite the encounter being a bit clumsy, she felt grateful for his timely intervention and appreciated the warmth of friendship in that moment.
"You're welcome, Mudblood," a deep, resonant voice echoed through the dimly lit corridor. Before she could react, a rough hand clamped over her mouth, effectively stifling any scream that threatened to escape her lips. The male figure, towering and imposing, swiftly maneuvered her into a nearby classroom, the door creaking ominously as it swung shut behind them.
Once inside, he pressed her firmly against the wooden door, her heart racing in her chest. With a flick of his wrist, he cast a locking charm, the air vibrating slightly as the enchantment took hold. Then, with almost a casual flick of his wand, he muttered an incantation for a silencing charm, enveloping the room in an unnatural stillness. As the echoes of the outside world faded away, he finally stepped back, a smirk playing on his lips, his wand still poised in his hand—ready and waiting.
Hermione gazed up and found herself face-to-face with Blaise Zabini, Malfoy's close friend and a notorious figure from Slytherin House. The flickering light in the dim hallway highlighted the smirk playing on his lips, which made her stomach twist uncomfortably. At that moment, her mind raced as she fumbled through her pockets, desperately searching for her wand, but it was nowhere to be found. Panic began to set in as the unsettling thought crossed her mind—hadn't she endured enough already?
"Zabini, give me back my wand," she commanded, trying to infuse her voice with authority despite the tremor beneath her bravado.
Blaise merely chuckled, his expression oozing mockery. "No," he replied coolly, a glint of mischief in his eyes. Instead of producing her wand, he reached into his pocket and extracted a sealed letter, its parchment worn and crumpled. With a deliberate motion, he extended the letter towards her.
"Read it," he said, his tone dripping with condescension.
Hermione hesitated, her heart racing as she tentatively approached. The distance felt overwhelming, and the realization that she was at his mercy sent a chill down her spine. Noticing her reluctance, Blaise quickly closed the gap between them, his movements swift and confident. He thrust the letter into her hands before stepping back with a smug arrogance, clearly enjoying the power he held over her.
With trembling fingers, Hermione stared at the letter, the weight of the situation pressing heavily upon her as she prepared to read whatever cruel message lay within.
As she slowly opened the letter, Hermione glanced at Zabini, then at the letter again, and back at Zabini.
My dearest Mudblood,
Our time together was an amusing diversion, but alas, it must come to an end. The Dark Lord and I have chosen Blaise to keep watch over you. Do not attempt to end your life prematurely, for it will bring me great pleasure to either take it myself or enslave you for my desires. Blaise will be ever vigilant in his surveillance of you, so do not even entertain the thought of escaping. I will hunt you down relentlessly until we meet again. Take care, dear Mudblood, but do not delude yourself with thoughts of raising a child or choosing their name.
Yours truly,
D.M.
Hermione's hand trembled slightly as she let the letter slip from her fingers, letting it flutter to the ground like a fallen leaf. Her eyes locked onto Zabini's, brimming with a mix of defiance and determination.
"No," she said firmly, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling within her. "You can inform Voldemort that he won't be getting my child."
She chose her words carefully, emphasizing the singular word "child " and deliberately avoiding any mention of children. The last thing she wanted was for them to become aware that she was expecting more than one. The weight of her secret pressed heavily upon her, but the resolve in her heart steeled her for whatever may come next.
Blaise's eyes burned with fury as she carelessly uttered his Lord's name. Without warning, he shoved her back against the door, causing her to gasp in sharp pain.
"You filthy Mudblood," he snarled, pressing his body against hers. "The Dark Lord will have your child, and after that, you'll either be dead or a slave to someone else. As for me, I'm hoping to make you mine. I can't wait to taste every inch of you."
He leaned in close to her neck, revelling in the way she struggled against him. Slowly, he breathed hot air onto her skin, feeling her freeze in shock. As she held her breath, she whispered out in desperation.
"Please, no."
His smirk only widened as he nipped at her neck before moving up towards her lips. With a bruising kiss, he claimed her mouth as his own.
When he finally pulled away, he lifted her and carried her over to the desk. But this time, Hermione fought back with all of her might. She refused to let this happen again.
"Stop it, Zabini!" she pleaded desperately.
Ignoring her plea, Blaise set her down on the desk and stepped back to admire his handiwork. Tears streamed down Hermione's face as he revelled in the power he held over her. Without another word, he flicked his wand and unlocked the door before tossing her wand at her feet. Then, without a backwards glance, he left the room - leaving the silencing charm still in place as a final form of control over her screams and sobs.
A/N- I hope you loved this chapter! I can't wait for you to dive into the next one, which will be coming your way very soon. Stay tuned, and see you soon!