Caught Spying
A/N- Here is chapter eleven for you. The first part of this chapter takes place over four to five months since Hermione was raped.
Warnings: Cutting scene- I don't like it
Chapter Eleven: Potion and Pain
Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with a gentle enthusiasm as he gazed at Narcissa. He held the book up to the light, its pages fluttering slightly in the soft breeze. "I have examined this book closely and discovered something quite remarkable within its pages," he said, his voice steady yet filled with intrigue.
Narcissa, furrowing her brow in confusion, took a hesitant step closer. "What exactly did you find?" she asked, her tone laced with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.
"Narcissa, you…" Dumbledore began, but his words trailed off as he noticed the growing tension in her demeanour.
In a swift motion, Narcissa moved forward, her hands reaching out to reclaim the book from Dumbledore's grasp. With an eager urgency, she flipped it open, her fingers moving deftly to find her place. As she scanned the pages, a sense of hope mingled with dread filled the air.
When she found the section detailing her son, Draco, her heart sank. There it was, a blank space labelled with his name, interrupted only by a solitary birth date inscribed in elegant script. The sight of that emptiness struck her like a physical blow, and she felt her throat tighten. Tears welled in her eyes, glistening like precious jewels, as she slowly closed the book and extended it back toward Dumbledore, her heart heavy with unspeakable emotions.
"No," Narcissa breathed, her voice trembling as she instinctively brought her hands to her face, her fingers trembling against her pale skin. A wave of disbelief washed over her; this couldn't possibly be happening. The news settled heavily in her stomach like a stone—she was pregnant again, and this time, the father was none other than Lucius. Memories flooded her mind, a blend of joy and anxiety swirling together as she grappled with the reality of her situation. How could she bear the weight of this once more? Narcissa shook her head slowly, each breath a deliberate attempt to calm the storm of emotions swirling within her. The quiet room wrapped around her as she inhaled deeply, trying to quell the anxiety that threatened to bubble to the surface. For as long as she could remember, a desire for more children had nestled in her heart, a joy she longed to embrace. Yet, Lucius had always clipped that dream, his firm refusal casting a long shadow over her hopes.
"Albus… I need your help. I'm running away from Lucius…" The words tumbled hesitantly from her lips, heavy with desperation and uncertainty. She looked up, searching for understanding in the wise, ancient eyes of Dumbledore.
He nodded thoughtfully, the familiar twinkle in his eyes reflecting a blend of empathy and encouragement. "I suspected you would find your way here, Narcissa," he replied, his tone gentle yet reassuring. His voice had a knowing quality as if he had anticipated her plea long before she arrived.
In response, Narcissa managed a weak smile, briefly meeting his gaze before flitting away to avoid the weight of his understanding. She found herself momentarily lost in the pages of the book resting on the table beside her, its words blurring as her thoughts swirled. At that moment, she realized just how much she needed this sanctuary if only to escape the confines of her troubled life.
"And I have pinpointed the exact location where you will be heading," Dumbledore began, his voice steady as he concluded the elaborate plan he had crafted with unwavering thoughtfulness. The flickering candlelight in his office cast a warm glow, illuminating the heavy air thick with tension and hope.
Narcissa Malfoy nodded slowly, a smirk curling at the corners of her lips; the plan was not just shrewd but also filled with a sense of liberation. Here was her opportunity to become a ghost in her own life, a shadow lurking in the background while ensuring the safety of her son and securing a future free from the dark cloud of Voldemort's tyranny. She inhaled deeply, the weight of secrecy settling comfortably on her shoulders.
She had confided in Dumbledore about her mounting fears and her disbelief that Draco could ever commit an act so terrible and dishonourable. Yet even the esteemed Headmaster had raised an eyebrow in skepticism, promising to investigate her concerns. Narcissa felt a flicker of gratitude; perhaps the light still existed in the midst of so much darkness.
After years of fear and sorrow since Voldemort re-entered their lives—a decade filled with dread and despair—Narcissa felt a genuine smile spread across her face. It was a rare occurrence as if her heart had suddenly shed the layers of anguish that had built up over the years. The warmth of affection for her son surged within her, fueling her resolve to see this through.
As she looked into Dumbledore's wise blue eyes, they sparkled with an understanding that went beyond mere words. He gestured towards Fawkes, the magnificent phoenix perched calmly nearby, its vibrant feathers a symbol of resilience and rebirth.
"Narcissa," he said, his voice resonating with assurance, "I will travel to the designated place first to inform them of our plans. Rest assured, they will be made aware of your immersion into this new role." His demeanour was calm, but there was a glint of determination in his eyes as he prepared to disappear from the office. With a flick of his wrist, Dumbledore vanished, leaving behind an air of anticipation and the faint echo of hope as Narcissa steeled herself for the journey ahead.
Narcissa Malfoy shook her head gently, feeling a mix of anxiety and anticipation as she contemplated her upcoming journey. She would be going undercover with her niece, Nymphadora Tonks, and that unpredictable werewolf, Remus Lupin. The thought of teaming up with them was unsettling, but necessity dictated her actions. She couldn't shake the realization that Hermione Granger's parents would also be along for the ride; a peculiar bunch indeed. On top of that, she had heard whispers that Mrs. Granger was expecting twins. The news only added to her sense of bewilderment, as it seemed that everywhere she turned, someone was adding to their family. Hermione was pregnant, as was Pansy, and now Narcissa herself carried life within her—a delightful callback to a childhood desire she thought had long faded.
With a heavy sigh, she closed her eyes, trying to sift through the fog of her memories. But all that greeted her was an abyss of darkness, impenetrable and suffocating. It frustrated her; she longed to grasp even a fragment of her past. Opening her eyes, she was met with the dim light of the office, and she absentmindedly rubbed her stomach, a gesture that came naturally as she pondered the future. Would her baby be a boy with Draco's striking features or a girl, perhaps with her determined spirit? Ever since she was a young girl, she had dreamed of having a daughter, and even during the tumultuous and chaotic times spent with Draco, the vision of nurturing a little girl had never left her.
Just then, without any forewarning, the familiar presence of Albus Dumbledore filled the room. His serene demeanour radiated a comforting warmth amidst the uncertainty surrounding her. He extended his hand towards her, an invitation held within his steadfast gaze. Narcissa, feeling a flicker of resolve, accepted his hand without a trace of distaste or reluctance—an act that marked the transformative nature of her situation. As their surroundings began to blur and fade away, the weight of her fears lingered, but a glimmer of hope flickered as they vanished into the unknown.
…..Hermione…..
As the soft morning light filtered through the curtains, Hermione stirred awake after her first week at the new school. She let out a contented sigh, a feeling of safety wrapping around her like a warm blanket. Stretching her limbs, she felt the slight creak of the bed beneath her, a familiar sound that grounded her in this new space.
As she slowly rose from the warm, cozy nest of blankets that had wrapped around her during the night, she instinctively rubbed her eyes and blinked several times, struggling to adjust to the bright sunlight streaming through her window. The light danced on the walls, illuminating every corner of her new room, which still held the faint scent of fresh paint and wood.
Her stomach let out a gentle grumble, a soft reminder that the satisfying meal she had enjoyed the previous evening was now nothing but a memory. Though the pangs of hunger were creeping in, she felt a more pressing urgency—the call of nature was demanding her attention.
With a determined stride, she padded across the cool wooden floor, her bare feet making soft patting sounds that echoed gently in the quiet morning. As she walked, fragments of her first week at this new place swirled around in her mind—each memory blooming like a wildflower in a sunlit meadow. She recalled the laughter of the new friends she had made, their voices blending harmoniously as they shared stories and jokes, filling the air with a lightness that made her heart swell.
Thoughts of navigating various classrooms flooded back to her; the thrill of discovery came alive as she envisioned the colourful designs on the walls, the sound of chalk against blackboards, and the intriguing discussions that had sparked her curiosity. Yet, interwoven with these joyful recollections was a bittersweet pang of nostalgia, a piercing reminder of the home she had left behind—the familiar sights and sounds that still lingered in her heart.
With each step toward the bathroom, she felt a sense of progress, an invisible thread weaving her further into the fabric of this new world. She was beginning to carve out a place for herself here, one small moment at a time, each day unveiling new possibilities and building her confidence to embrace the unknown.
Hermione's reflection in the mirror was a painful reminder of her trauma. She couldn't stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks, and she hated herself for being so weak. But deep down, she knew the real reason behind her breakdown: she had been raped by her enemy and was now carrying his child. How could she have been so blind to his true nature? Now, she was faced with the daunting reality of having not one but four babies.
It seemed like everyone around her was pregnant, including one student who had gone through this before. The school may have been accepting of young witches having children, but it didn't ease Hermione's worries. She sought therapy and talked to Pansy about their shared experience of rape and pregnancy. As she worked on a potion in class, trying to distract herself, she couldn't help but feel sick at the thought of what had happened to her.
As she added ingredients to the cauldron, each one representing a different aspect of her life that had been turned upside down, she heard someone else in the class throwing up. She turned to see a girl from Bouvardia struggling with the same sickness that plagued Hermione every day. Unable to finish her potion, Hermione turned away, overwhelmed by conflicting emotions of anger, sorrow, and fear. She was placed in each ingredient after each other. She waited for the teacher to come by.
Hermione carefully measured out each ingredient, following the instructions in her potions textbook. She glanced up nervously as Professor Cat approached her desk, hoping she hadn't made any mistakes.
"Well done, Miss Parkinson," the professor praised, causing Hermione's stomach to flutter with relief. But as the professor turned to leave, she noticed Hermione's pale face and quickly became concerned.
"Hermione, are you feeling alright?" Professor Cat asked, placing a hand on her forehead.
Suddenly, Harry appeared by her side with a vial of potion in hand. He helped Hermione pack up her things and supported her as they walked to the school nurse's office. His arms wrapped around her waist, providing comfort and stability.
Hermione took deep breaths, trying not to pass out as they made their way through the crowded hallways. She was grateful for Harry's presence and support during this overwhelming moment.
"Hermione?" Harry asked hesitantly, concern etched across his face as he noticed her pale complexion.
"Harry," Hermione replied weakly, her hand instinctively covering her mouth in an effort to suppress the nausea that swept over her. Thankfully, morning sickness hadn't been too harsh on her so far.
As she leaned against the cool concrete wall of the garage, Hermione felt a wave of discomfort wash over her, and the contents of her breakfast came rushing back up. Harry, quick to react, stepped closer and gathered her long, chestnut hair into a makeshift ponytail, holding it back for her as she retched. He retrieved a napkin from his pocket and offered it to her once she was able to take a breath. With a grateful nod, Hermione wiped her mouth and regained her composure.
Within ten minutes, they found themselves in a small, bright examination room. Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the coolness of the sheets beneath her, while a kind female doctor examined her with a gentle demeanour.
"Miss Granger," the doctor began, flipping through her notes, "you have the flu, which is unfortunately exacerbating your morning sickness."
A flicker of relief crossed Hermione's face as she listened, grateful to understand what was making her feel so unwell. The doctor prescribed a few potions—each one infused with soothing properties designed to alleviate her discomfort. Hermione nodded appreciatively, her spirits lifting slightly at the thought of relief.
Once they returned to their temporary accommodations, Hermione tossed her school bag onto the bed with a soft thud before sinking into the cushions herself. She rubbed her tired eyes, briefly surrendering to the fatigue that had begun to nag at her. With a determined sigh, she pulled out her schoolwork, spreading it across the bed in a colourful array of parchment and textbooks, ready to tackle the tasks ahead.
Hours slipped by unnoticed as she diligently worked her way through her potions, charms, and transfiguration assignments. The intricate notes and complex spells kept her mind occupied and distracted her from her lingering queasiness. Yet, as another yawn escaped her lips, she realized she needed a break.
After carefully rereading her notes on the first three subjects, she wearily turned off the lights. The room felt strangely different from her familiar space at Hogwarts, with its three doors invitingly surrounding her: one led to a modest bathroom, another opened to the quiet hallway, and the third connected to Pansy's room. This place had a unique charm, unlike the bustling atmosphere of their school, where every student had a haven. Hermione sighed contentedly, feeling both at home and out of place.
She sat at her desk, pouring over the delicate parchment that detailed the intricate properties of her potion. It was a complex concoction, one that required a careful three-month brewing process to reach its optimal potency. The anticipation of the final result tingled in the back of her mind. The soft creak of her bedroom door broke her concentration. Without hesitation, Hermione grasped her wand, ready to defend herself against any unwelcome intruder.
"Hermione," Pansy said softly as she stepped into the warm glow of the lamp-lit room, her silhouette framed by the doorway.
The two women exchanged stories and laughter, their voices weaving together in a comforting rhythm reminiscent of their friendship before the third year tore them apart. They spoke of everything—from their classes to their personal lives—sharing secrets and dreams long tucked away. The hours slipped by unnoticed, each moment filled with the warmth of connection and understanding.
Eventually, as the clock chimed midnight, Pansy yawned, her eyelids drooping with fatigue. "I should probably get some sleep," she murmured, stretching slightly before heading back to her room, leaving Hermione in her sanctuary of books and potions.
Left alone, Hermione felt a wave of weariness wash over her, but there was still something she needed to take care of. She padded across her room to the attached bathroom, where she meticulously brushed her teeth. The cool, minty flavour was a refreshing end to her night. After rinsing, she splashed cool water onto her face, feeling the droplets ease the lingering tension of the day.
Turning to her tall wooden cabinet, she opened the doors slowly, revealing a collection of various vials and jars, each containing different ingredients and brews she had experimented with over time. Her gaze landed on the blue potion—the result of countless late-night sessions and meticulous measurements. With a mix of excitement and nervousness, she uncorked the vial, the familiar scent filling the air. In one swift motion, she tilted the bottle and let the liquid swirl down her throat, feeling it coolly slide into her stomach.
With a determined nod, she tossed the empty vial into the wastebasket, its glass clinking against the other discarded remnants of her magical endeavours. Hermione then returned to her room, moving quickly yet quietly towards her bed, her mind racing with thoughts. She quickly checked her clock, ensuring it wasn't set to ring in the morning. Content with her preparations, she sighed, allowing herself the comfort of her blankets as she nestled down, fully intent on sleeping in late on Saturday.
…..Three Months Later…..
Hermione's eyes fluttered open as she stifled a yawn with her hand. Slowly, she glanced down at her bandaged waist, and a wave of confusion washed over her. Memories of the past week came flooding back - agony, emptiness, despair. She couldn't make sense of it all, and a sense of dread gripped her heart.
Flashback
Tears streamed down Hermione's face, leaving wet trails on her cheeks as she stood in front of the full-length mirror. She held a knife to her waist, her hand shaking with fear and indecision. As she looked around the empty girls' bathroom on the fourth floor, she took a deep breath and pressed the blade against her skin.
The initial cut was shallow, but it stung nonetheless. Hermione watched as blood slowly pooled at the wound, feeling a sense of release from the pain that had been weighing her down for so long. Memories flooded back of Malfoy's cruel actions towards her - raping her repeatedly and using a whip to torture her. Though her physical scars had healed, she still carried emotional scars from those traumatic experiences.
With a trembling hand, Hermione made another deeper cut on her skin, feeling herself grow dizzy as she sat down on the cold tile floor. The school bell rang in the distance, signalling the end of class. And with that final cut, Hermione freed herself from the burden that had consumed her for so long.
As panic and chaos erupted in the hallways outside, all Hermione could hear were screams and cries for help. But for once, she felt peaceful and free from the pain that had plagued her for far too long.
End of flashback
A/N- Thank you for reading this chapter for me. I would love to hear your thoughts on what you liked about it.