Chapter 12 The boy who died or the boy who wants to?
He rounded on Grainger the moment they arrived back in the
safety of the manor's wards. Drago had made their excuses
despite the happy news. Preparations must be made to
avoid any loss of the child. Magical pregnancies, especially
those with pure bloodlines, were precarious.
His own mother had experienced 2 losses before she had stopped
announcing she was with child. How is this possible?
His mind was a mess of tangled spider webs.
For each one he tried to weave, 10 more conjoined and spiralled
in clumps. Granger had come to Malfoy Manor
already, with life growing within her.
He thought of her swollen breasts, the extra curve of her
hips, the new fullness to her cheeks.
How pregnant was she? It would have to be Weasley's.
That was it. Greyback was mistaken.
It couldn't be. It would never be mine.
He yanked his thoughts away from that blossoming hope.
Deceptive, festering hope. The hope of something more to a
life than what he had now. Grainger hadn't whispered a peep
since the Dark Lord had released her from his victorious grip.
Dricker's eyes had searched the Great Hall for his mother, who
mirrored the same expression he hoped he was also portraying.
Quiet, cold calmness. Do not react, he felt she was
saying to him. They didn't need Occlemency to
convey this kind of message. His body turned to steel,
armoured and precise, his mind a foggy maze all else would get
lost in, and he got them both out of there as soon as he
could. Malfoy, please.
Hermione finally spoke as they operated by the wrought iron
gates. Not here.
He hissed, leading her firmly from the gates up the gravel
path and the stone steps. The Manor doors swung open.
Sir and Missus home early. Bobby will put on a spot of tea.
The elf greeted them in a flurry.
Something stronger for me, Poppy.
Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Said Poppy, hurrying away.
Draco had had enough. Once they reached his study
Grainger was fully out of breath.
He would have felt bad for her, but for Merlin's sake did she
not understand the pressure they were under and to hide something
this important? Explain, was all he could
muster, fury burning inside him while she stood leaning against
the chair, hands fidgeting. How was he meant to keep them
both alive with all these secrets?
He would get the truth from her, or he would bleed it out of her.
Fuck, he cursed to himself. His last batch of Veritaserum
had been used to verify the intentions of the regime
recruits. All pliable, all soft hearted,
all pacifists. Not that he would use it on her,
not if she was. I can't, she whispered.
So you thought you'd come here wound full of someone else's
child? A Weaseleys, no doubt, and
expect the same Malfoy protection would fall on the
fetus. Our agreement did not extend to
your blood traitor offspring. Read my mind, since you're so
good at it. She spat at him.
You'll see, I've never been with Ronald Weasley, or anyone for
that matter. Hermione took a step in his
direction, halting a rogue thought, her unstoppable force
meeting his immovable object. The moment she spoke these
truths aloud, he could see she regretted them.
What I find interesting, Granger, is not what I can see,
it's what I cannot see. He said slowly and deliberately,
playing his first hand. She was still breathing rapidly,
now with the stress of the confession rather than the
physical exertion. Where are your memories since
the battle? Hmm?
Where exactly do you think you have been?
She took in a rapid gulp of air. He had her back in a corner, he
knew it. I I've been working for the
Order, I've been learning all clemency.
Those memories are simply hidden away from your prying Death
Eater eyes. Oh for fuck's sake, Granger,
give it up. Draco boomed, pacing the room.
Now. I'm sick of your games.
At first I thought you'd been compromised, that someone had
got to you first before you made it here.
But at this point, I think I finally uncovered the
explanation of your bizarre behaviour.
Oh really? Then do tell O great and all.
Knowing one, my Hermione Granger would know that we've been
working together since the battle.
First in temporary safe houses, then here.
I know you must be curious about our project.
I can see it in your eyes when you think I'm not looking.
I saw it the day in here, when you were rifling through my
drawers and documents. But you are not my Hermione
Granger, are you? You haven't even the foggiest
knowledge of our mission. Granger looked at him as if he
had three heads. She was blinking at him rapidly,
worrying her lip and shaking her head.
And I bet it's been eating you up inside.
Hermione was trying to steady her breath.
Draco was so close, and she still gave nothing away.
She wasn't going to fold so easily, he would have to put all
the cards out on the table and hope for all their sakes that he
was right. If he wasn't.
If she really was a spy under the influence of another Death
Eater, and the evidence collected so far was just a
decoy, well then whomever was pulling the strings deserved the
win, for this was a masterful infiltration.
Oh, and the way you've compartmentalized all your
memories, separating your whole life into cabinets, boxing your
trauma just so you can get through your days without being
reminded of how tarnished your soul really is.
Draco strode towards her, looking Hermione deep in her
chocolate honeycomb eyes. Her cheeks flared a sumptuous
red. I'd know that method of
occlamacy anywhere. It has his fucking signature all
over it. Severus Snape, and I highly
doubt he's been teaching you from the grave.
She actually had the nerve to scoff at him, whether out of
exasperation or just to release some of the pressure building in
her lungs, he couldn't tell. Yet she still remained silent,
wanting him to show his full hand.
Did you know that Severus Snape only had two Occlemency students
in his lifetime? Harry Potter and me.
Her throat bobbed, and oh how he wanted to hold it.
So who was it? The boy who died or the boy who
wants to? And he pulled out the bronze
chain from inside his robe pocket, dangling the broken time
Turner before her exposed face. If someone had licked the air
between them, their tongue would have sliced in two at the
tension. Grainger breathed deeply, her
full lips going tight. He could almost hear her
thinking, see her scrambling around in her mind, trying to
unearth her next play. Finally, she broke.
Should I know what that is? His tongue pushed through his
teeth and he scoffed back at her.
Such a fucking Gryffindor. He said, shaking his head at the
utter incredulity. You know perfectly well what
this is. Go on Granger, lie to me again.
I've never seen that necklace before in my life.
She said, crossing her arms like such a brat.
Honestly, the performance was astoundingly bad.
He'd have to give her tips on lying convincingly before her
next presentation to Voldemort. Lie better.
I he had her. I have three points.
He said, pulling one of her arms free from its cross and dropping
the time Turner in her palm. And then we can cease with this
hole charade #1 You know exactly what kind of necklace this is.
Don't think I didn't figure out that you'd been granted a
Ministry grade time Turner in our third year.
How else were you able to be in Divination and Potions at the
same time? Hermione lifted her chin up
indignantly. Completely impossible.
They would never give a 14 year old mug up on witch the ability
to turn back time itself. She retorted.
And that's what I told myself at the time, but I can see now I
was just bitter. He confessed sourly, matching
her glare #2 not only did I spot the bronze work around your neck
when you arrived last week, but I also found the piece smuggled
away under your mattress, exactly where you'd hidden it in
your mind. Hermione's eyes grew wider and
her chest bloomed as her breathing deepened even further,
bosom pressing against the green lace cleavage spilling over
slightly. Draco closed his eyes for a
moment, cracked his neck, and continued #3 the schematics of
this device at present day exist only in the figment of Theodore
Knott's imagination. If he didn't know Hermione was a
living, breathing person that very moment, she could have
convinced him she was a wax figure, for all of her muscles
froze at once. Cards on the table.
He'd played his ace, a royal flush, meaning Grainger.
It's from the fucking future, and so are you.
Realization dawned on Hermione's face, holding the cold bronze
hourglass necklace in her hand. She would have to come clean,
but Malfoy would have to also. She had been living under his
roof for over a week, reading about his commanding of the
regime's forces with an iron yet surprisingly merciful fist,
ferreting out deposers and creating a new sense of law and
order. Still, despite everything she
had read in the Prophet and even the Quibbler, she couldn't help
but feel a dichotomous sense of calm in his presence, A sense of
safety. Had his future self been the one
to teach her what clemency? Who else truly could have?
She'd never read this method in any book, and from what Harry
had told her, it did seem plausible that it had originated
from Snape. Plus, hadn't she concluded that
her future self had come from Malfoy Manor?
And it looks like you've not come alone.
Her hand instinctively went to her belly, Time Turner pressed
against her navel. To be sent back in time from the
future, with no memories whatsoever, not even the most
important one, that the future she was saving was that of the
new life inside her. She felt a deep well of
betrayal. And who had she to blame?
The memories of her first time with someone had been stolen
from her. The first kiss, the first
embrace, the first cry in pleasure.
But maybe it hadn't been that way at all.
What if the child inside her had not been conceived out of love,
but instead out of coercion, fear, or something much worse?
Considering your reaction tonight, this is news to you
too. He said solemnly.
She gave a shaky nod and sat heavily on the chaise lounge.
Then, given that Greyback as olifactory senses of a
Bloodhound. If he says the child is mine, I
am inclined to believe him, Draco concluded, postulating and
pacing the room like an arithmetic professor teaching
advanced numerology. Mahufoy.
Hermione finally relented. For this child to be yours, we
must have been intimate in your time, he added.
Or you forced. Don't you dare insult me by
finishing that sentence, He spat back at her.
You can hardly blame me. You're out here every day
showing the world what a terrible human you are.
You're responsible for countless deaths, one of my best friends
among them. It's hardly unreasonable of me
to think that you'd resort to rape, especially given your
speech tonight. Even if the Ministry's tones
changed, I would never force myself upon anyone.
I require enthusiastic consent, and I have never failed to
require it thus far. Hermione sniffed a dismissal of
his words. That's not how it appeared to
the members of this evening's events.
Appearances can be deceiving, and considering whoever you
conspired with decided it would be in your best interest to wipe
your memory, I guess we'll never know.
Why do you think I had an accomplice?
The last spell your wand performed was Obliviate 1 cannot
perform that spell on one's self.
Hermione let out a gust of air and rested her head in her
hands, scratching through her mane at her roots.
Her mind fell into a void, and a blanket of cool white shrouded
her vision. Another doctrine.
Now she envisioned the metal box shuddering open and was glad to
find her mind devoid of intruders as the black
calligraphy formed against the white.
His weakness is you. It's always been you.
Use that to your advantage. Tea for miss and whiskey for
Sir. Declared Poppy, silver serving
tray rattling beneath the rocks glass and China cup shaking
Hermione out of her revelation. Drako seemed to notice her short
mental absence, taking it as a sign of exhaustion, for he came
beside her and squeezed her shoulder.
She'd felt that quiet action in the Great Hall, and it still
felt like a gift of strength. Thank you, Poppy.
Said Hermione, looking up to find Drako was now kneeling
before her. I think it's time we started
trusting each other again, Granger.
His words were a bid, a plea as his steely grey eyes pulled her
into their depths again. Well, yes again.
At least for me it will be again.
We've really made some breakthroughs, you and me, over
the past two months. And you'll share those with me?
She asked hopefully. Yes.
Tomorrow, if you agree to be as open with me as your memory will
serve, Jaco Malfoy must die. The Order cannot be trusted.
His weakness is you. She would be as open as her
memory would allow, but she would not be divulging these
truths. Even as she brought them into
focus in her mind, they fizzled away like a paper, a flame under
a microscope. She wasn't sure she could even
voice them if she wanted to, like voicing the exact pattern
of breath to give life or the precise beat of a heart.
Hermione had thought these doctrines were to be her guiding
light, her reason for being here.
Yet they hadn't told her the most important piece of the
puzzle. Draco Malfoy was the father of
her unborn child. No matter how the child had come
to be, this was important. He, she, they were important.
She nodded at him, looking into those unexpectedly earnest eyes.
He placed a gentle hand to her cheek, and his gaze panned down
to her belly. Now I think it's time for you to
get some rest. I'll call for a doctor tomorrow.
Draco said firmly, standing up back in commanding mode.
Do you have one? You can trust this baby.
It might be much older than would make sense with our
timeline. No, I'm afraid there aren't many
whom we can trust these days. But I do know a little spell
that can ensure our secrets remain our own.
He helped her to her feet, not that she needed it, but welcomed
it all the same. They didn't speak as they left
his study and he escorted her all the way to her bedroom.
Hermione was sure both of their minds were whirling like a
hailing torrent, thoughts wailing.
Draco. She asked as she sat at the
Victorian vanity, beginning to remove her jewellery.
Hmm. He turned back from his exit.
How is it you've managed to climb the ranks so quickly, Dark
Commander? She repeated this title with a
small hoof of amusement. Besides the day, the day, Ron, I
couldn't find anything in the profit to account for your
sodium promotion. No other deaths or regime
triumphs. He joined her then and sat on
the low Ottoman. She suddenly saw him for the
young man he was, premature lines of worry creasing his 18
year old forehead. I believe the Dark Lord has a
plan for me, one he has yet to divulge.
Hermione turned fully to face him.
He was leaning over with his elbows perched on his legs,
hands knitted together, head low and contemplative.
At first I thought it was because I was Aunt Bella's heir,
but he's barely the sentimental type, and Merlin knows I was far
from the most effective follower, or the most loyal by a
long shot. She nodded softly in agreement,
having had the same thoughts. No, there's something else,
something I haven't been able to figure out yet.
Something about me in particular or something someone like me is
the perfect fit for. It's almost though, I'm being
trained up for something, Draco. Narcissa's voice rang out in
alarm from down the corridor and he groaned to his feet.
I better go, I have some explaining to do.
And with that, Draco left her with more than just her
thoughts, but the squirmy little bean that had travelled so far
inside her. It wanted to survive in a world
that was worth surviving for, and she would do everything in
her power to make that happen. Hallo baby, I guess I'm your
mummy.