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A World Not Fit To Live In	By : snowblind12 & Lissa Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 78125 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: These characters and the Harry Potter world belong to J K Rowling and her publishers. I make nothing from this story and I own none of it. It is based off the work of JK Rowling.

Chapter List
- 27
- 28
- 29
AN: Trigger warning for a discussed miscarriage.

Chapter Twenty-Eight
BETA love – RaynePhoenix2
Lucius glanced at Severus as he walked into the large dining hall of LeStrange Villa. The black-haired wizard offered nothing by way of explanation as they took their places. Perhaps his friend was in the dark just as much as he was. He assessed the attendance to find that the elite of the Death Eaters, what many knew as the inner circle, were all present. When Lucius spotted his son already seated, and in a spot more prestigious than his own, he felt a small piece of his heart crumble. This was it. He had lost. Draco was being rewarded with favor. There would be no getting him back now.
Lucius took his seat at the middle of the table as Severus took his to the right of the head. Lucius noted with a small bit of amusement that Bella was no longer in the spot of prominence on the head’s left, Dolohov now occupied that honor. The crazed witch was now seated one spot down, on Dolohov’s left, and the bitch didn’t look happy about it. Draco, on the other hand, had a smug and self-important sneer on his face, clearly pleased with his new spot, to Severus’ right and directly across from his aunt.
When the Dark Lord entered in a dramatic flair of billowing robes, Lucius noticed how small their Lordship seemed. The man looked frail; frailer than at the Graduation party. Something was causing him to weaken but Lucius had no idea what it was. However, just because his physical body appeared diminished, did not mean his magic was. The two were not dependent on each other.
When their leader took his place at the head of the table, the house elves appeared with the covered platters. Lids were lifted to reveal a hearty Welsh Cawl Stew. Warm rolls with butter and assorted wines were provided alongside the traditional fare.
Everyone waited for Voldemort to begin eating before daring to start. After he had taken the first bite, he motioned for the others to proceed and put down his spoon. He sipped his wine and watched his followers as they ate and fell into quiet conversation.
After about five minutes his voice carried over the assembly. “I find myself perplexed as I watch you all eat so easily, as though you don’t have a care in the world.”
Spoons were frozen mid-lift and the whispered conversations ceased immediately.
“Oh, by all means. Indulge in your meal,” he said with a flip of his wrist. “Don’t let me stop you. Don’t let the fact that you have at least one traitor amongst you spoil your appetite.”
The reverberating sound of silver spoons being delicately placed in the fine china bowls echoed loud and ominously. Everyone stared straight ahead or at their Lord. No one dared dart their eyes for fear of being falsely, or rightfully, accused of treachery.
“One of you thinks you are very clever. One of you has fallen for the filth you are bonded to and has decided to turn against me.”
A shocked gasp could be heard escaping from Bellatrix’s mouth. Lucius barely comprehended it, however, as his heart was beating so hard, he could hear it in his own ears and feel it in the pulse point of his neck. He continued staring straight ahead as he forced his shields of Occlumency into place.
He turned to watch the Dark Lord with the appropriate amount of unconcerned concern. Yes, it was an oxymoron, but it was a real skill when dealing with their Lord. Showing concern without displaying fear. Showing surprise without looking ill-informed. Showing kindness without looking weak. It was a life of walking on a tightrope and it wasn’t until Lucius had decided to betray it, that he realized how truly exhausted he was with the whole thing. Now that he wanted out, he wanted out now! The problem was he had no idea where to begin. If there was any one person he could trust it would be Severus, but that was still a very large gamble.
His thoughts were pulled back to the words of the despot before him. “I fear that when I explained that some of you would be taking Muggleborn and blood traitor spouses, you misunderstood that they were worthy of your regard. Worthy of your protection. Worthy of your…” His face looked repugnant as he spat, “…love.”
“They are, and always will be, scum in the sewer, dirt beneath your shoe, and excrement in the barn.” At that moment the Dark Lord’s red-slit eyes met his platinum grey and Lucius knew he was a dead man. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. After all, they had been in the barn only an hour before his confession to Hermione.
Despite his overwhelming panic, he kept his eyes locked, unflinching and without expression, on his Lord’s. When the madman looked away and continued his pacing, Lucius took a small but relieved breath of air.
“Draco, set up the mirror,” their Lord commanded.
Lucius watched as Draco acknowledged the order reverentially and then stood to leave the room. He quickly reappeared and was levitating a very large, antique mirror that had gold gilding around its edges. Lucius recognized the charmed device and wondered what they would be witnessing.
“Set it there,” the Dark Lord directed. Lucius’ heart thrummed with renewed dread when the mirror was placed almost directly in front of him, which meant facing the center of the table.
Voldemort then nodded at Draco, which signaled the younger Malfoy to wave his wand. A dark room slowly came into focus on the mirror. A small amount of light revealed it to be a cell underneath Hogwarts, in the crypts below the dungeons, if Lucius was correct. His frozen expression of indifference masked his uneasiness when he saw two forms huddled and hugging each other tightly. One was a blonde with long, wavy hair and the other a brunette with frizzy, wild curls.
His heart continued to race, and a subtle trace of sweat was developing on his palms. He couldn’t tell if it was his Miss Granger. He needed to see her face. He felt Theodros tense on his right and, upon a closer look, Lucius realized the blonde was Lavender, the Pure-blooded traitor bonded to the senior Nott.
After a moment, three other figures were tossed into the cell, including the Weasley girl. Lucius wanted to scream in rage when he saw his charge; his precious Hermione. Her face became visible when she turned towards the new arrivals and pulled a frail girl with long, stringy hair into her arms. Snape’s young bride burst into tears as the five held each other in their obvious fright. Lucius wanted to turn to Severus. He wanted the see his friend’s face but there was no point. He knew the man was as panicked as he was.
Lucius watched as Hermione smoothed back the girl’s hair and looked her in the eyes before pulling her into another embrace. He recognized the girl as the one from his cellar who had been rescued with Potter that fateful day at the Manor. Luna. Luna Lovegood was her name.
When his eyes moved back to Hermione, he fought the emotion that was welling up dangerously inside him. He concentrated on his Occlumency and forced himself to shut off the panic. He began to feel almost sleepy with detachment. He realized he had Occluded too hard and relaxed his shields just a hair.
“Confessss,” the monster hissed at the table. “Confesss your weakness now and I might be lenient. I might be graciousss and allow you to live.” He looked back at the mirror. “All of these bonded slavesss have poisoned the mindsss and corrupted the soulsss of their captorsss.” The half snake man looked back at Lucius and Theodros and then MacNair and Rowle before looking at Draco and then Severus. Draco seemed a touch startled by the accusatory look and suddenly Lucius realized what this was. A test. It was a test. Voldemort was fishing.
Lucius felt Theodros begin to move and immediately grasped the man’s leg with a crippling grip under the table, preventing the wizard from making a mistake that would make him Nagini’s main course for dinner. Theodros froze and Lucius held his grip until he felt the man relax. Lucius then slipped his hand back into his own lap and maintained his own mild interest on the scene before him.
He watched as a man he didn’t know entered the cell and pulled the black-haired, Asian girl – the only one he didn’t know – to her knees. The man forced the slave to service him as the other captives fell back against the wall and held each other, refusing to watch.
Lucius could feel the eyes of his Lord studying him, looking for any reaction before moving on to another captor.
Despite his Occlumency, it took all of Lucius’s control when Fenrir Greyback entered the cell and pulled Hermione roughly, detaching her from the grasp of her friends, before forcing her to her knees before him. Rage tapped at Lucius’ mental walls as the werewolf looked down on Hermione with a lecherous grin and released his hardened cock from his trousers. He grabbed her hair and forced her face into his crotch. There was a gasp from the table when suddenly Greyback screamed like a wounded animal. Bright red blood was visible on his cock and on Hermione’s face. The other girls pulled Hermione away from the werewolf’s reach after he landed a hard hit on her face.
Lucius felt a mix of pride and raw panic for his girl. His attention was pulled to his right when Voldemort cackled and laughed, clapping his hands in amusement. “Potter’s Mudblood is such a treat to watch. We may have to spare her for entertainment value alone.”
There was nervous laughter around the large, rectangular table as the Death Eaters trepidatiously followed their rulers lead.
The Dark Lord once again scanned the table and the waved his hand dismissively. “Enough, I’ve seen enough.” He looked at Draco. “Take it away.”
Red eyes draped along the table and hovered over Lucius’ own as well as a few others. “Let this be a warning. You are each of you being watched and any treachery will be dealt with swiftly and promptly. These witches are for fucking and for breeding. Nothing more. Let there be no confusion on the matter.”
With that, the Dark Lord left.
Conversation erupted around him and Lucius took a moment of false boredom as he sipped his wine as though he didn’t have a care in the world. His Lord was probably keeping eye on the room from another charmed mirror or painting. Lucius would offer him nothing for his efforts. He wanted to retrieve Hermione and get her home, but he could display no urgency at this moment. As he sipped his drink, he realized he needed to make a plan. He needed to get her away, out of the country. He just didn’t know if he could let her go. He was a selfish man and would never claim otherwise. Letting her go would be the ultimate act of selflessness as it would likely lead to his, and possibly Draco’s, death.
After most of the Death Eaters had left, Lucius nonchalantly approached Severus who was chatting with Dolohov. Dolohov bid his goodnight, leaving the two of them the last standing. “A night cap, old friend?” Severus offered. “I have a particularly good bottle on my desk at Hogwarts. A gift from a parent.” He smirked conspiratorially, “Who knew there were so many perks to being Headmaster?!”
Lucius offered a chuckle to play along with the façade. “Anything to grant me a reprieve from the crying Mudblood, Severus. I’ll accompany you right away.”
The minute they floo’d into his office, Severus called out, “Kreacher!” The elderly house elf Apparated before them. “I thought I told you to protect Miss Weasley! How is it she was taken from this tower?”
The elf looked confused. “The young Miss is asleep upstairs, Headmaster. She has not left Kreacher’s sight. I just left her.”
“Explain to me, then, how it was I just saw her via an enchanted mirror in the cells below the dungeons?!” His voice was enraged, and Lucius was surprised to realize he had never really heard his friend raise his voice before.
Just then, the girl in question stumbled clumsily down the steps in her half-asleep state. “Wass goin’ on? I heard yelling.”
Severus was on her instantly, tilting her chin up with a concerned and stern look on his face. She seemed undisturbed and merely smiled at him in return. “Master?” she asked.
“Have you at any time left the Headmaster’s tower this evening?”
Ginny yawned as she shook her head, “No, sir. I read the books you left for me, did the Kegel exercises as you instructed, and took a bath. Then I went to bed.” She looked from her captor to Lucius and back again. “Is everything alright?”
Severus turned back to Lucius. “Polyjuice?”
“I’m going to the Manor now. I’ll return via floo if I do not find her there.”
Lucius arrived home to find Hermione sound asleep in his bed. The relief that flooded through his veins made him feel weightless. He stripped out of his clothes and climbed in beside her. As he pulled her close, her arms immediately wrapped around him and her leg draped over his as she nestled into his neck.
He didn’t understand. Had Severus been right? Had Polyjuice been utilized to make it appear their witches had been taken? If so, who were the women in the cell? In hindsight, it would have been very hard for the captives to have been retrieved without consent. The wards on the Manor were such that no one could enter unless one of the Malfoy men was in residence. Considering that Lucius would have felt it if his wards had been breached, it was next to impossible she had been taken. Unless Draco had been involved. Perhaps Theo had allowed entry into the Nott estate.
Curious, Lucius crept out of bed and entered the en suite to find everything in its place. He entered the Mistress suite to find it was in perfect order as well. How would someone have gotten her hair for polyjuice? It dawned on him the hair could have been taken long before she was even given to him.
He had to hand it to the Dark Lord, it had been a believable ruse. The person juiced to look like Hermione had certainly acted like her, even biting Greyback. Lucius suspected Greyback and the other man were not in on the deceit. Fenrir seemed genuinely surprised and enraged when he was bitten. Whoever the polyjuiced person was, she had Lucius’ respect. It took a lot of nerve to bite a werewolf on the penis.
He took a quick shower before climbing back in bed. Why? Why had the Dark Lord done it? Did he really suspect all of them of treachery? And was he correct about all of them? After all, Lucius knew that Snape and Theodros were guilty. Who were the other two girls bonded to? Regardless, he felt like he had a starting point with finding sympathizers. Theodros had almost thrown his life away for the Lavender girl. If that wasn’t someone who could be persuaded to turn, then Lucius didn’t know who was.

Snape knew she was tired, and he knew she was emotionally spent. With Lucius and Draco constantly rutting the girl in an effort to get her pregnant, in addition to the stress from the worry of them actually succeeding, Snape knew she must be in a right state.
He couldn’t blame her. All their lives were being turned upside down. She would need to keep her magical focus despite these physical and mental trials, however. She needed to rise above it all in order to achieve her true potential. They needed her – those that opposed the Dark Lord – if they were going to be successful. Her magical strength was astounding and her wandless control of it was improving daily. Until now that was. Today it was all over the place.
Snape had spent many an evening pondering the Granger girl. While her intellect had always been impressive, he had never found her magic to be anything extraordinary. Until recently. So why the change? What was the impetus?
It was theorized that wizards and witches didn’t meet their true potential until they reached sexual maturity. It was further theorized, although never proven, that the first orgasm triggered the final magical spike. Severus had never held credence to these theories but given what he had witnessed in this amazing young woman, he was becoming a believer. It was well known she had been a virgin when she had been bonded to the Malfoy men. Was it possible she had never climaxed before that night?
Hermione threw up her hands in exasperation. “I don’t understand! I’m not doing anything differently!”
The Headmaster watched her pace back and forth as her fingers continued to rub her forehead in frustration. He glanced about the room one more time to confirm they were alone. This wasn’t an act. The portrait’s frames had been vacant all morning.
“Calm yourself, Miss Granger. You will find that emotional outbursts do nothing to counter the inevitability of an outcome.”
Hermione turned on him and crossed her arms. “I am NOT having an emotional outburst! And you clearly know much less than you think you do, because women are very adept at using their emotions to get what they want…and they do it all the time!”
Severus’ left eye brow cocked in bemusement when she threw her tightly fisted hands down to her sides and resumed her pacing. “And don’t think for one minute that I’m happy about that! It’s all men’s fault. They don’t take women seriously and don’t respect them enough to listen to them. They drive women to the brink of insanity.”
Severus’ thumb and index finger moved to his mouth to pinch his lips so that his amusement wouldn’t show. His right brow joined his left when several glasses and crystal decanters on the liquor sideboard suddenly shattered.
She immediately stopped and stared at the whisky sprayed walls. All her anger left her as her shoulders slumped and she burst into tears. Her accusatory eyes flew from the splattered mess back to the onyx depths of her former Professor’s. “Yes! I’m crying. Deal with it!”
“Mother of Merlin,” he mumbled to himself as he tried to make sense of why her magic was so uncontrolled today. What had changed? Besides her emotional and seemingly hormonal displays and outbursts this morning, that was.
He closed his eyes in resignation when it hit him what the problem was. “Miss Granger, please sit down.”
“I don’t want to sit,” she groused as she walked towards the hearth.
“I believe you are pregnant,” he announced bluntly. “And I believe the fetus’ magical imprint is impacting your own.”
Her hand flew to her mouth and when her unblinking gaze withered into tear filled orbs, he knew that she agreed with him.
She immediately collapsed onto the closest wingback chair and cradled her face in her hands. After a moment, she dropped her hands and threw a desperate and pleading stare at him. He took a subtle step back unconsciously when she whispered, “Kill it. Abort it. Please!”
Snape’s jaw fell in shock as he stared at her in dismay. Never in a million years would he imagine her to request such a thing. He shook his head minutely. “You know that I can’t.”
For the first time he was truly concerned for her mental health. He recalled she had been suicidal not so long ago. He walked over to her and fell to his haunches. He tipped her head up and met her eyes. “Was that a serious request? Do you really wish terminate your pregnancy?”
Silent tears avalanched down her cheeks as she shook her head from left to right. She looked down and whispered, “No. No, of course not.”
In an uncharacteristic move, that surprised even him, he sighed heavily as he pulled her gently, causing her to slip from the chair and into his arms. She latched onto him immediately and broke into gasping sobs. He simply rubbed her back, and when her crying abated to sniffles, he told her what he had decided. “I’m going to talk to Lucius, Hermione. Based on what you told me as well as my own observations of his behavior, I feel he can be persuaded to the reasonable side of things. You are carrying either his child or his grandchild in your womb, and he will want to protect you both at all cost.”
She whipped her head back and met his concerned expression with a look of relief and no small amount of desperation. “Yes. I agree. It’s time. I can’t live like this any longer, Severus. I’m going to lose my mind.”
“You are going to have to work very hard to regain control of your magic, Hermione,” he reminded her.
“Yes, yes. I’ll practice whenever the collar is off. Now that I know what is going on, now that there is a logical explanation, I think I can adapt.”
“Good. You will need a healer to examine you. Tell Lucius right away so that he will send for one.”
She pulled back and they both stood. She straightened her robes. “Yes. Yes. I’ll tell him as soon as he is home.”
“Alright, then. I must away, but I will be in touch.”
“Pregnant,” Hermione whispered to herself in dismay. Of course, she had known it was only a matter of time. She had consumed enough fertility potion to impregnate every female in a small country, but it didn’t change the shock she felt in this very moment.
Her hands pressed against her lower abdomen as an unexpected swell of protection built within her. She had been upset and had been hasty with her reaction, but it was no excuse. How could she have even said the words? How could she have even thought them? It didn’t matter who the father was – this was her child! Her baby. And even if she hadn’t wanted it to happen, there was no going back now. A life was growing inside of her and it was hers to protect, with her life if need be.
She quickened her steps, not really thinking about where she was going. Instead, her mind swam with the desire to form a plan. Snape would talk to Lucius. Maybe, with Snape’s help, they could find a way to get her out of here. Maybe they could fake her death, maybe she could escape. She would fight with any resistance that was left. She would do whatever it took. She had to live, and she had to get away. It was not just her life anymore, but the life of an innocent child as well. A child she would not allow to be brought up by an abuser and influenced by a madman.
She found herself in the Parlor and began to pace. Too tired to play the piano she fell onto the sofa, still lost in her thoughts. She easily ignored the various pleas for her to play and the huffs of irritation when she didn’t.
“Miss Granger, are you unwell?” The now familiar voice of Narcissa asked. Hermione looked at the portrait and saw the former matriarch’s eyes were on Hermione’s hands which were still on her belly.
Hermione answered simply. “No, not sick.” When Hermione didn’t look away, Narcissa’s eyes grew wide with comprehension. It was no secret amongst the portraits that Hermione was being forced to conceive and marry.
“Already?” Narcissa screeched with glee as her hands steepled together before her mouth. “It’s only been a couple of weeks and you are already with child?” Her eyes welled with tears of joy. “It must be Draco’s. Let’s at least hope for your sake that it is, because Morgana knows Lucius and I tried and tried. After the death of our hours-old daughter and several miscarriages, we stopped trying for a second child. I just don’t think Lucius’ essence has the ability to plant strong seed anymore. The healer told me I was perfectly healthy, and the deficiency wasn’t my own.” She stopped rambling and shook her head with sheer happiness. “A Grandchild! I cannot wait to watch over him.”
Hermione felt bile rise up the back of her throat. “This baby is NOT good news you wretched woman!! How could it be a good thing to be born into this world and into the clutches and control of someone like Voldemort! And you better pray that this child is Lucius’ if you harbor any hope for its happiness. Draco will use the child to gain favor with that thing. The prat doesn’t care about anyone. Not even his own father.”
Narcissa frowned. “I can see why you believe that, Hermione, and you are totally justified in feeling that way. I know my son, however. He’s grieving and he’s hiding behind misguided hate.” Narcissa smiled warmly. “He’s going to snap out of it and turn back into the sweet boy he used to be. It’s only a matter of time. You’ll see.”
Hermione scoffed. “You mean the sweet boy who almost killed Katie Bell? OR do you mean the sweet boy who led Death Eaters into Hogwarts? Perhaps you are referring to the sweet boy who tormented me and called me Mudblood? Or maybe the sweet boy who conspired to have an innocent animal killed and a decent man fired? A sweet boy who became a minion to that cow, Dolores Umbridge? Is that the sweet boy you mean?” Her voice was rising, and the other portraits were whispering amongst themselves. “Because if that is your definition of sweet, then you need to spend far more time in the library!”
Narcissa just watched her, however. Her eyes were starting to droop as Hermione spoke. Every now and then they popped open as though she was trying to stay awake. When Hermione finished her tirade, the blonde turned to Willow’s portrait. “It’s the hormones, don’t you think?” She yawned as she looked back at Hermione. “It will all work out, Hermione. You’ll see. You’ll love my boy when you get to really know him.” Then her eyes closed a final time, and Hermione realized the portraited witch was sound asleep.

Hermione was furious. How could anyone be so out of touch?! She had to remind herself she was arguing with a portrait. Not a real person. Draco’s mother’s portrait.
She forced herself to calm and pulled at the collar Severus had placed back on her neck. Sometimes Snape would ‘forget’ to put it back on her, but not today. Not with her new uncontrolled flares of magic.
She stomped over to the piano and lifted the fallboard before collapsing onto the bench. Her fingers landed on the keys angrily, but her rage simmered as she stared at the beautiful instrument. Taking a calming breath, she closed her eyes and willed a song to come her. A small smile crept on her face when it did.
The U2 melody elicited from the keys just hit her without conscious thought as her fingers began to move with the ease of a song played many times.
This had been one of her Father’s favorites.
I want to run, I want to hide
I want to tear down the walls that hold me inside
I wanna reach out and touch the flame
Where the streets have no name

As she began to relax and get lost in the music, her vocals became louder and more emotional.

I want to feel sunlight on my face
I see that dust cloud disappear without a trace
I wanna take shelter from the poison rain
Where the streets have no name, oh oh

Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
We're still building then burning down love
Burning down love
And when I go there, I go there with you
It's all I can do

The city's a flood…

“Who gave you permission to play my Grandmother’s piano, Mudblood?”

Hermione startled at the abrupt entry and her hands flew from the keys to her chest as her heart pounded. She didn’t respond and instead closed the fallboard and moved her hands to her lap.

“And you sound like a dying hippogriff. You are not allowed to sing, and you are not allowed to play that piano. As a matter of fact, you shouldn’t be in this room at all. This is the Ladies Parlor, not the whore’s den.”

“Here, here.” A voice could be heard. It stood out against the others that came to her defense.

“Lucius said she could play.”

“She plays beautifully.”

“She sings like an Angel.”

“You aren’t welcome here, boy.”

That last one got Draco’s attention. His eyes shot around the room. “Who said that?”

He stepped over to the portraits that were crowded with double and triple occupancy so they could watch her play. His eyes met theirs. Some cowed into submissive glances down and away, some met his eyes with curiosity, while a few stared back at him with defiance.

“You’ll watch your attitudes, or I’ll burn every one of you old hags.”

“What’s going on in here?” Lucius demanded as he walked in. “Why are you threatening the portraits, Draco?”

Draco’s face drew into a scowl. “They need to learn respect, Father. The Mudblood was in here playing on Grandmother’s prized piano and polluting the air with her singing. I have rectified it, though, and told her she is banned from this room.”

“And why would you make such a demand?”

Draco laughed without humor, “You can’t be serious? You don’t want her filth polluting this room any more than I do.”

“I fear I am in disagreement, son. I have already instructed that not only is she allowed to play but required to play daily.” He gestured about the room. “For the entertainment of our matriarchs and their friends. Mudblood she may be, but for some reason these portraits enjoy her playing and singing. It is for them that I demand our charge use of this room.”

“How long have you played today, girl?” Lucius asked Hermione as he glared down his nose at her.

Hermione looked solemn. “At least an hour.”

“No, less than ten minutes,” a portrait tattled.

Lucius looked from the portrait of his distant aunt back to Hermione. “If you lie to me again, I’ll whip you. You will play for another forty-five minutes and then you will bathe and dress for dinner.” Lucius then looked at Draco. “Come, son. I have work issues to discuss with you.”

Draco followed his father but not before throwing a sinister glare at Hermione. “You heard my father, play!”

Hermione glared at him as she lifted the fallboard once again, her fingers picking up right where they left off earlier.

Twenty minutes later, Lucius reappeared. He stopped in his tracks when he heard the simplistic tapping of keys. It was a tune he recognized. Something from his childhood. Mary Had A Little Lamb? Why would she play such a thing? He walked up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Come. You can stop playing. I have something I want you to do.” He looked around the room and realized he needed to maintain the façade with so many witnesses. He began to walk away and looked back at her. “Quickly. I don’t have all day.”

Hermione stood and followed Lucius into the hall where he grabbed her and spun, Apparating them to the Master Suite.

As soon as they landed, Hermione pushed away from him. She was tired. Tired of the charade.

“I’m sorry he interrupted you. I can tell you are upset,” Lucius offered as he started for his walk-in closet. When he came back out it was to find she hadn’t moved and was staring at a space of blank wall.

“What’s wrong?”

Hermione didn’t move and didn’t answer.

“Hermione, are you alright?” he asked with more urgency as he approached.

This time she looked up and he was surprised to see her eyes sparkling with moisture. His forehead tensed with concern and the command was out of his mouth without conscious thought. “Tell me.”

She glared as the words spilled of their own volition. “I’m pregnant.”

Lucius simply stared at her before coming to his senses and pulling her close. “I’m sorry,” he responded as one hand cupped her head to his shoulder and the other rubbed her back.

Whether he was apologizing for the command or for her physical condition, she didn’t know. Despite his holding her, despite his caress, Hermione never felt more alone than she did in this moment.

As he held her, Hermione could hear his heart rate accelerating in his chest.
After a minute, she whispered, “What am I going to do? How am I going to do this?”

“Tinny,” Lucius called out. When the elf appeared, he gave a swift orders. “Inform Draco that Hermione and I will not be dining in the hall this evening as she is unwell and I have work to do. Please bring tea, sparkling water, assorted sandwiches, and that lemon orzo soup that Narcissa favored. Leave them on the table in front of the fire under a stasis charm. We will eat when we feel like it.”

With a pop the elf was gone.

“Thank you,” Hermione mumbled into his neck as that small gesture already gave her some relief. “I don’t think I could stand having to sit across from him tonight.”

“Why don’t you change into something more comfortable and meet me on the sofa?”

Hermione slowly pushed away and nodded. “Okay.”

She had only been in her suite for less than ten minutes when she walked back in wearing midnight-blue, silk pajamas. How was it that no matter what she wore, she looked beautiful? It was a natural and effortless beauty, as well. Narcissa had been stunning, it was true, but her beauty had required make-up charms and hair spells to reach that level. She had been pretty without them, but not beautiful. Hermione, on the other hand, looked her most beautiful when she was her most natural.

“I love it when you look at me like that,” Hermione whispered.

Lucius held his hand out and when she took it, he pulled her onto his lap. This was becoming one of his favorite pass times, having her wrapped in his arms.

“So, it’s happened. You are pregnant. Are you sure? It’s very fast.”

Hermione explained her session with Severus and that the taciturn wizard felt certain it was the fetus’ magic that was causing hers to be so erratic.

“I’ll arrange for a healer to come in the morning. First thing. There will be maternity potions you will need to take and Tinny will see to proper meals and snacks.” He paused. “Perhaps a paternity test can be performed, although it might be too early in the pregnancy.”

When he felt her body begin to shake from crying, he felt like crying with her. For her to have conceived so quickly, and with his absence, the odds were not in their favor.

He handed her his handkerchief, which she accepted with mumbled words of thanks as she immediately dabbed her eyes.

He was contemplating what he could say to reassure her, what he could say that was true, and found himself baffled at what happened next. He had not expected her to start consoling him. “Narcissa told me, Lucius. She told me about how you lost your daughter.”

He didn’t want to talk about that. He didn’t want to feel it. A flare of panic was welling in his chest.

“It must have been devastating. I’m so sorry you went through that.”

Lucius swallowed and willed the water in his eyes to go away. How could something that happened so long ago still hurt so very much? “It was…difficult,” he said.

Before he realized he was doing it, he began to talk. He talked about the pregnancy and their excitement. He talked about the nursery and about how Draco was jealous of Mummy’s fat belly.

His voice trembled when he recollected that night; that night at dinner. She wasn’t due for two more weeks, but she had been feeling off all day. She had thought the baby might be coming early and there was an air of excitement among the house elves. Lucius had been a bundle of nerves.

But then it had all gone wrong.

She had begun to bleed and when the healer came, she was rushed to St. Mungo’s. She was in delivery within minutes, but it had been too late. Their little girl was delivered, but she was dying. Something to do with her lungs. Ironically, it had nothing to do with being delivered early. Lucius and Narcissa were holding their baby when she drew her last breath, her little fingers wrapped around Lucius’ pinky.

By the time he had stopped speaking, Hermione was a mass of waterworks. She was holding him so tight it was a wonder he could breathe.

“We waited about a year before we tried again,” he continued. “She was able to conceive, but not carry. After several miscarriages, we stopped trying.” He paused. “I went to visit a specialty healer. I wanted to know if it was me. If there were perhaps a potion or a treatment I could undergo, but I was told it wasn’t me. Narcissa had a weak cervical neck, whatever that means, as well as some kind of marker in her blood that made it difficult for her to carry a child to term. I was told Draco was a miracle and our daughter had been a near miracle.” He laughed without humor.

“It was a fluke that I arrived on the very day they were going to send us an owl. They wanted us both to come in. After they talked to me, I made them promise to tell her it was my weakness. I wanted Narcissa to believe the deficiency was mine. It would have devastated her to know the truth.”

“Oh, Lucius,” Hermione whispered. “I’m so sorry.” They were silent for a minute. “I guess I shouldn’t be angry with your wife.”

Lucius pulled back. “Why would you be angry with her?”

Hermione huffed in irritation. “In my state of shock, I confessed to her portrait that I was pregnant. Her overjoy at being a likely grandmother directly conflicted with my fury at the likelihood of being impregnated by her son.” Hermione shook her head in dismay. “Lucius, she is completely out of touch with reality. If you could have heard her defend Draco… It was like she was in total denial of what is happening.”

Hermione paused and then added, “I don’t think I can spend time in the Ladies Parlor anymore. Not if she is going to continue to come to his defense and wax poetic about being a Grandmother.”

Lucius cocked a brow. “It could be mine, you know.”

“Yes, well. She doesn’t believe that for the reasons you just explained.”

Lucius stared into the fire. “I want you to be able to play the piano, Hermione. In peace. If she bothers you again, I will remove her portrait and restrict her entrance to when you are not present.”

Hermione suddenly felt guilty. “Don’t do that, Lucius. She loves it in there. I’ll be ok. It was just fresh news and I was upset. She can’t be faulted for loving and defending her son. She’s a portrait, which is only a representation of her. If Narcissa Malfoy was alive and present, I doubt she would condone his behavior. At least that’s what I would like to believe.”

Lucius would like to believe that as well, but he wasn’t so sure.

It was after Hermione fell asleep that Lucius went to Narcissa. He found her awake in the Ladies Parlor portrait.

“Lucius, good evening. Hermione is not playing tonight, but I will come get you if she does.”

“Actually, Cissa, that is why I am here. I want you to promise not to talk to Hermione about Draco anymore and I want you to not mention her pregnancy unless she brings it up with you specifically.”

“Why would you make such a request, Lucius? She is carrying my grandchild, your grandchild. Are you not excited? Are you not thrilled? At last the patter of little feet we’ve wanted for so long!”

Lucius shook his head. “This baby could not come at a worse time, Narcissa. And if it is Draco’s, the child will receive no nurturing from him, I assure you. If the child is as strong magically as the Dark Lord hopes, Draco will be ecstatic and will hand the child over to him without a second thought or a moment’s regret. This is not the Draco you remember, my flower. He is not the Draco we raised. He is being consumed by the Black family madness. I’ve decided to contact a healer. A healer in Siberia who specializes in these types of ailments of the mind. He might not have a cure, but perhaps he can slow the progression. Perhaps he can bring a little bit of our boy back.”

Narcissa’s face became red with anger. “I told you, Lucius! This is grief! Why wont you listen to me?” She huffed angrily before continuing, “Fine! Get him treatment if you think it will help, but he needs a mood healer. He needs someone who can talk him through his grief. If you would just –”

“Enough!”

Narcissa froze, her eyes wide and pained.

Suddenly he felt terrible. He had done this to her far too many times. But this time he was correct. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to snap at you, but…enough. This is not denial. This is not grief. This is not depression. It’s madness. The Black madness. From now on Hermione comes first. Do not upset her. Do not talk to her other than to express simple pleasantries. Do not discuss Draco or her pregnancy. Understand?”

Her eyes were sharp, and her lips were pursed. “Yes, Lucius.”

Lucius exhaled. She was furious with him. He hated it, but it couldn’t be helped. She had been in denial long enough. He offered her a small resigned smile. “Good night, my flower.”

“Goodnight, my thorn,” she responded with a smirk, causing him to laugh. She hadn’t called him that in years.

Narcissa watched as he walked away. She spoke to herself. “You’ll see Lucius. No one knows Draco like I do. Our boy will be back. Mark my words.”
Music credit – U2 “Where the Streets Have No Name” – many beautiful interpretations on You Tube.
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A World Not Fit To Live In