Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Notes: The Re-establishment of Endangered Species	By : T-W-O Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 5048 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from anything in the Harry Potter universe -- stories, characters, settings, prior art.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
At 24
“Let’s not quibble: the purpose of these efforts is population sustainment and growth — with the hope of habitat re-introduction. Diversity within the community is the goal — it leads to healthier communities over time; if the populations can reproduce in captivity, assistance may be required.” — The Bureaucrat’s Guide to the Rehabilitation and Re-establishment of Endangered Species page 251
“Talk to me — and put that Fyrewhiskey down. You’ve never had a head for it.”
“Go away, Lord Ferret,” she spoke into the glass as golden liquid slid into her mouth, “I don’t need a chaperone or a conscience right this minute.”
His honest laughter provoked a stare from her that shed the hair on his nape.
“Wonderful! Because I’m neither. You do, however, appear to need a friend,” he replied without sarcasm in his quiet tone, “and I will exterminate those stubborn tree-loving vermin in your rescue forest at my Manor if you don’t talk to me. I’m here…”
“Not in the mood — and don’t you dare harm those bowtruckles. I prefer to be alone when contemplating how I turned into an idiot.”
“You’re too much of a know-it-all to be any kind of —”
“I’m pregnant." she announced without preamble. "Not something a know-it-all would let happen —”
The humor and color left his face as he tugged her over to the sofa,
“— and it’s NOT Fyrewhiskey, it’s chilled tea. I’m not a complete idiot.”
When the pregnancy test’s blue lines confirmed her mistake, she’d Apparated directly to Terry Higgs’ palatial home near Cornwall, well aware Higgs’ now spent his time in the States. The cottage had been a retreat for the uni study group when cramming for exams.
“How do you feel about it?”
His question came softer than the rustle of silk sheets in the dead of night.
“Oh, I don’t know —” she started in a perfect imitation of Draco imitating someone stupid, “gormless, annoyed, shocked, panicked, angry, confused, uncertain… scared.”
“Annoyed???” he pressed — as if she hadn’t mentioned any number of other emotions.
“At myself. The charm to prevent this from happening isn’t difficult.”
“So why didn’t you cast it?”
“I THOUGHT I did! Must have been that full moon on Imbolc — St. Brigid’s Day if you’ve any Irish in you. If this is your best effort at helpful, why don’t you go back to Astoria — who’s much closer to having your heir than I am to —”
He cut her off.
“Can’t; Potter’s looking for you.”
“And?…”
Her lack of patience with his intrusion was starting to show on her face and in her attitude.
“And he misused his authority — scared the piss out of my expectant wife — to announce you were missing. If I don’t return with some evidence that you’re alive and well, he’s arresting me for murder — which is a parole violation; my arse would be back in Azkaban without a trial. Not that I’m afraid of the four-eyed fuck, but Astoria could use my presence at home right now.”
As intended, the reminder of his precarious place in the wizarding world fed her guilt monster. Huffing in contrition, she sank back into the sofa cushions, running a hand through the tangled mass encasing her head.
“I am so sorry. Harry’s obsession with protecting me requires recalibration — and I promise you I’ll be seeing to that within the next 24 hours. I… I can’t face anyone right now. Not until I work through this on my own.”
“I’ve been looking after those blasted bowtruckles. Change in trees hasn’t set well with them — the females have to be bred by hand. They’re skittish about surviving and won’t let the males pollinate them. I found nearly half a hundred stunned and damaged males at the base of the trees in the willow grove.”
Tilting her head to the side, she studied the man speaking in hopes of determining why this mattered now.
“Don’t want to be blamed for their extinction; absolutely every offspring is necessary to their survival. Can’t look after you and those ‘endangered’ beasts of yours if I’m in Azkaban. Astoria suggests you return with me. I agree.”
“That’s… That’s very kind of her… of you both, under the circumstances.”
For the first time in years, Draco witnessed terrified tears from the battle-tested witch. The last time, she’d been bleeding from her maimed arm…
“Manners matter. Before we go, want to explain that list of feelings?”
Stretching across the sofa divide, she laid down and placed her small feet in his lap, as she’d done countless times while studying in this very room, whilst struggling to organize her thoughts.
“Where to start… Annoyed? Yes, at myself for not casting the charm properly.”
“Doesn’t your partner bear some responsibility? Where’s that fem-nazi who used to rip us Slytherins to pieces over our support for antiquated gender roles?”
That, at least, brought a half smile.
Despite her 3-to-1 disadvantage, their “Avenging” Granger blistered the hide of every male in her study group — citing chapter and verse of the laws and customs that suppressed witches and maintained male dominance in Britain’s magical world. Then she swore — by every Roman, Greek and Celtic goddess — that she’d refuse to die a proper death until she saw them toppled.
It’s hard to teach pure-blood blokes gender-neutral values…
“My ‘partner’ suffers from that pure-blood imperative to nurture his seed wherever it may take root. This isn’t a desirable outcome.”
“You wound me and my kind, Granger.”
With an arched eyebrow, she rebutted his attempt to further guilt her.
“I believe, Lord Malfoy, that you await the arrival of an heir? The prosecution rests its case.”
“Prosecution, is it? Unkind, coming from you. Alright then,” he capitulated, “we’ve covered ‘annoyed’, what’s next —‘shocked’?”
“This was not how I planned my life…”
The intimacy gained from practically living together for three years softened his gaze. His best indicators of her state of mind lay closed beneath the arm she’d intentionally covered her eyes with.
“I have so many things I wanted to do before having children — like having a husband, rewriting most of the Ministry’s discriminatory laws, taking over DMLE properly and not as Kingsley’s ‘secret weapon’ THEN running for the top job.”
“Why can’t you do that?”
“Did you miss the announcement that I’m pregnant? I can’t put a child in care for the hours I work! I’d never see her!”
“You’re having a daughter?”
That tender look, always reserved for his cooking partner, broke through the last wall built by their different lives and different reputations.
“Yes…”
“Measley must be happy, even if his pauper’s seed was too lazy to produce a son.”
“Stop it! He doesn’t know!”
His tender massage of her toes ceased.
“Okay, Granger, you’re scaring me. This is Slytherin behavior and it doesn’t suit. Why have you not revealed your blessed event to your fiancé?”
“We’re not engaged…”
THAT was news.
“You’re not sure, are you?”
She looked like she’d Apparate straight out of the cottage, a move guaranteed to cause a splinch and a miscarriage. He startled at her panic response.
“— that you want to marry Weasley, I mean,” he recovered, freeing her to breathe again.
This was the first time in over a decade he’d spoken Ron’s name correctly. George was George. Bill was William. Ron was a long list of names — but not “Weasley”. The hint of hope lifted the corner of his mouth at the thought that she’d shed the village idiot — the useless third of the “Golden Trio”.
Only slightly calmer, she attempted an answer — “N-N-Not now. I thought we might reconcile at some point. But this —” and she flung her hands haphazardly in the vicinity of her developing foetus, “complicates everything. It reduces a world of life choices to a limited few…”
Knowing her sparring partner better than anyone now living, she lobbed the truth at him with no preparation. Her bombshell followed on the heels of that admission.
“Ron’s not mature enough, at this point, to be a good father to this child. Not sure Ron and I are suited… And I’m not sure I’m keeping it… the child…”
Steel stiffened his opinion of her intent.
“I suggest you reconsider — for the sake of your daughter and her father. He won’t forgive you.”
If his utter disappointment in her considered options affected her, she made no sign.
“Time to return to the land of the living. Send St. Scarhead a patronus to meet us at the Manor in 30 minutes and one to Astoria to let her know you’ve accepted our offer.”
Wispy white otters danced away from her fingertips before she let him haul her from the seating in preparation for leaving. Thinking the situation as well in hand as could be expected, his temporary charge startled him again when she curled into his chest and collapsed in sobs.
“Oh gods, Draco — what’s going to happen to us!?”
“WE will say ‘hello’ to Potter. Have dinner at the Manor. YOU will use that mind of yours to think of better choices than disposing of this child. She’s going to be special and her father might vehemently object…”
With those words of comfort, he steered the whimpering witch into the floo before adding:
“…and I think a conversation with Astoria might assist your decision. She has a unique viewpoint on childbearing and life choices that you’d benefit from hearing.”
_______________________
Harry left shortly after Draco threatened to brave Azkaban for the privilege of kicking his ignorant arse when the worried saviour’s interrogation brought Hermione to shuddering sobs. Without revealing her condition, the Lord of the Manor made it clear what was and wasn’t acceptable on private property. To his credit (and his chagrin at reducing his best friend to weeping hysterics), Harry retreated under Draco’s onslaught.
Quiet conversation, buttressed by an Unbreakable vow, unnerved Harry but he left convinced Draco was the right person to support her while she regained her balance. Astoria appeared on the heels of the quietude, gathering Hermione up and escorting her through the floo in Draco’s study to the guest suite.
Their guest slept for quite some time…
“May I come in?”
Mass confusion at her predicament and her options woke Hermione hours before, when moonlight painted oblong rectangles, made by the panes in the floor to ceiling mullioned windows, on the floor. Mid-morning illumination now tinted the thick Persian carpeting warm rose and tangerine.
“Yes — Come.”
Astoria, levitating a tray before her ample belly, met with a guest dragging herself to a seated position. Depositing the tray on the sumptuous four-poster. Mrs. Malfoy Accio’d the softest chair in the room to the side of the bed before waving her wand like an orchestra conductor to light the antique lamps secreted in recessed sconces.
“I can’t thank you enough for this; I’m so sorry to inconvenience —”
The pure-blood gave forth a hearty laugh before exhibiting her own sharp wit, “ — because we’re inundated with guests demanding to stay with the Malfoys for the season,” and humor’s tears accompanied Astoria’s laughter. The mirth became infectious.
“I appreciate the isolation, Tory; I truly do.”
“Would it help to talk about it?”
“I’m… not in the habit of burdening others with my mistakes.”
“So I gathered when Harry Potter forced Draco to locate you.”
Harry’s best friend had the decency to blush in embarrassment at the threat her disappearance brought to the Malfoys.
“Every sentence I speak, lately, seems to start with ‘I’m so sorry’. If I could take back —”
“My husband did locate you when Mr. Potter’s Aurors failed to. I know Draco’s in love with you. It’s partly why I married him.”
Thankfully, curiosity cleared her head of the chaos caused by Astoria’s evenly spoken bombshell.
“You see, if Draco Malfoy could love a Muggle-born after living with Lucius, well… I knew we’d be good together. I love Draco; I want him happy. If you’re upset, he’ll worry.”
“I never…”
Words collided against Hermione’s soft palate and the backs of her well-tended teeth.
“You’ve been a good friend to us both; made our lives in this new world far easier. Did you know that creature preserve saved my husband’s life?”
Tufts of a sigh brought Hermione’s whispered utterance — “I knew how unhappy he was. I found him in the Astronomy Tower our eighth year… On the ledge…”
“I’ve seen it,” the porcelain-skinned beauty admitted tearfully, “in his mind. My family’s tenure in Slytherin house dates back nearly as far as the Malfoys; I’m not above violating Draco’s head to take care of him. That’s what loving wives do.”
“You must know —”
“Hermione, you have nothing to fear from me; I should thank you.” Lady Malfoy tabled further apologies with a swift change of topic — “Let me repay the favor; I take it, from the sounds I heard the first time I tried to deliver your meal, that you’re expecting?”
Astoria watched the planet’s brightest witch squeeze back tears from the expanding knowledge of her error, chin tucked to her shaking chest.
“Draco’s concerned you’ll terminate.”
Her nod encouraged the pregnant pure-blood to continue.
“Shall I tell you why he’s concerned?”
“Please…” squeezed its way up and out of Hermione’s tight throat.
“Did you never wonder that, having married only days after my graduation, we are only now starting our family? Your curiosity is legendary and you two are clearly close.”
Before continuing, Draco’s wife stretched in the silence and re-situated an errant foot poking her insides.
“Not to belabor the point, this child will ensure my death.”
Heart-clenching disbelief overcame Hermione’s emotional self-flagellation. Her head snapped to, taking in the calm demeanor and soft smile of the woman tenderly rubbing her active baby.
“The Greengrasses carry a curse; it’s as simple as that. A birthmark distinguishes the recipient of the ‘gift’ in each generation — always female. Draco knew this before we married, against my father’s wishes. I was determined not to deceive my intended as my first act as his betrothed. There’s Slytherin and then there’s Slytherin.
“In any case, time passed and while Draco was willing to become the last Malfoy, I was unwilling to forego giving him an heir and becoming a mother. It took years of arguments before he gave in. You see, his legacy inheritance requires a blood Malfoy heir.”
“What about a surrogate? With a healer’s —” and Hermione gasped at her own intrusiveness. “I shouldn’t be making suggestions, under the circumstances…”
“You’re not suggesting anything we didn’t consider. Supposedly, our Malfoy wedding rites prevent Draco from dalliances; he’s useless to them. The Manor’s portraits, however, tell me there are quite a few Druid high priests and priestesses in my husband’s lineage. Who knows what might happen were he to ‘celebrate’ on a Druid feast day?
“For us, our son is a most precious gift and our greatest sacrifice. We will lose each other…”
Astoria wondered at the thoughts behind the expression Hermione wore.
“A boy?”
“The Malfoy name will continue. I’d hoped for a girl — the first in five centuries; someone my emotionally ‘reserved’ spouse won’t hesitate to smother with affection.”
“Lucius Malfoy kept his distance with Draco…” Hermione commented, revealing a conclusion drawn from their intimate declarations during uni.
“He did. Draco’s promised he’ll be different with our son. You’re having a girl?”
“So my test says. Gods, I can’t do this!” she wept, hurling herself backwards into the thickly stuffed feather pillows. “It’s not fair to the baby or me. Or her father…”
“I’ve upset you,” and the lovely witch rose awkwardly from the chair, charming the authentic Louis XIV antique to its place against the wall, “I’ll let you rest. Pull the rope —” and she pointed to the bedpost nearest Hermione’s unkempt head — “and I’ll retrieve your tray — and before you com-plain, your opinions on exploiting sentient magical beings are well known in this household. Take your time and think about what I said. If we can help, just ask.”
“Thank you.”
“Come down to the salon when you’re feeling up to it. Dinner,” — Astoria noted the green tinge climbing the Gryffindor’s neck and face — “if you care to join us, is at 8 tonight,” and with a grace belying her girth, Lady Malfoy made her way to the floo and returned to her husband.
Astoria Greengrass Malfoy’s final words — “Take care of our family, when the time comes. My portrait will be watching,” — were accompanied by a smile balanced between ultimatum and supplication.
Hermione’s engagement would be celebrated at the Burrow roughly 8 and 5/6 months before Rose Cedrella Weasley’s protracted delivery — all 9 and 1/2 pounds of curly ocher-haired, livid-eyed screaming infant.
The engagement announcement did NOT stun her cooking partner… only saddened him.
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Notes: The Re-establishment of Endangered Species