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Balaur	By : T-W-O Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 25216 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I own nothing of HP nor do I profit in any way from these missives. I almost own the laptop I'm writing this fanfic on, tho'.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
She’d reached the exhausting part of carrying her firstborn — ready to shed the aches, the weight and the fear of giving birth to a twenty-pound Malfoy. The midwife’s words made the situation worse not better.

“Virator, you must rest. Your impatient son should stay put for a few more weeks.”

“What are you saying?”

“I am saying Vlad and Charlie will be waiting on you until Balaur makes his way into the world. A little while longer is better for your baby.”

“How big?”

She’d asked the same question for the last 30 checkups. Her uninvited “parenting partner” asked it for the last 10.

“Vira - do not worry so much! You are made for this. There will be pain but it will pass and you will have your son. You will get through this as all mothers do. If you worry and fret your baby will fight your body. Draco — talk to her about this. She must be calm.”

“It’s Granger, calm isn’t part of her makeup.”

“Says my rapist…” the irritated Gryffindor muttered under her breath.

“Says your partner and the father of that baby you’re carrying,” the increasingly unflappable Slytherin snarked to the remark meant to go unheard.

“I will check on you tomorrow. Did Vlad put garlic in the goulash?” and the midwife paused long enough for Hermione to nod, “Hardheaded! I tell him ‘It will give Vira an ache in her chest!’ Does he listen? No! Always he does what he chooses! Rest — I will go and rescue your dinner from my heavy-handed nephew,” and with a wave Ivona, Vlad’s paternal aunt, repacked her midwife’s bag and Disapparated to the kitchen.

…..

After stepping gracefully from the floo days later in the Romanian farmhouse, Draco’s temper ignited.

Standing alone in the cozy seating area at the foot of Hermione’s bed shouldn’t have happened; bed rest usually meant the patient would be found in bed. His inhalation in preparation to bellow for her brought sufficient silence to locate the missing mother.

Hermione sat “nesting”, magically refolding and neatly re-storing baby clothes and supplies in the heirloom dresser Molly had Charlie and Vlad refinish to match the nursery, while singing to soothe her clastrophobic baby. Her mood was as rounded and soft as her oversized belly. Before the mandatory bed rest he’d often found her here, tenderly stroking her belly to reposition a stray foot or hand, and reciting nonsense rhymes or preparing a nursery she’d finished with months ago. Their talks, as she called them, in this room were cordial, civil and meaningful with none of their ritualistic bickering or snappishness. During Draco’s still crippling (but less frequent) emotional storms, he’d seek out this room like a tracking hound; seconds, minutes or hours later she’d find him, using her honesty and kindness to work through their challenging relationship.

Leaning against the nursery’s door jamb, sounds of family lifted the corners of his mouth. Slytherins used cunning like most wizards used oxygen; cunning would keep him near them. The pieces of the damaged aristocrat, reassembling themselves after fate fucked him royally, required proximity to the woman and the child to continue their repair — he dare not think true healing possible. The same Slytherin wits that protected her from Greyback would relentlessly find a way to be part of what lay before his eyes.

“Another hidden talent, Granger?”

“My —”

“OUR —”

The ritual correction brought a soft smile to Hermione’s face. Regardless of her future decisions regarding Draco’s role in her life, she appreciated his efforts to be different with and less distant from his son.

“‘Our’, then…” she relented gently, cocooned in a soft maternal mood, “OUR son’s getting squeezed and he’s taking it out on me. He settles when I sing.”

A strange looking contraption with two small wheels spinning behind a translucent window played accompaniment that included another songstress mimicking the Gryffindor’s stylings.

“Who’s in the band?”

“That? It’s a ‘Walkman’ - it plays music recorded on cassette tape.”

The weeks and months together exposed a curiosity in Draco that almost matched her own. His potions skills rivaled hers; the muscle rubs and pregnancy-safe pain relievers she’d needed had been “invented” by Draco.

Rapid-fire inquiries had her laughing.

“Tape? What do you mean record — record or rec-ord? What magic puts the music in the —”

“Draco — enough! It’s a muggle music device. Read the directions; they’re in my bed stand drawer. If you’re going to help with the baby you need to figure out how to use muggle devices — like the ‘Nappy Nipper’,”

Her finger pointed to a canister sporting a transparent top and some kind of waxy paper inside.

“Why would I learn about anything to do with nappies?”

The smile left her face.

“Because I will not have a house elf care for Bali! He’s OURS and WE will care for him — if you’re sticking around for the real work!”

Draco never really mastered the facility to apologize when angry.

“I never said I wouldn’t care for him,” he shouted, “— or you!” he added to make sure she understood he considered them a package.

“I can look after myself. Don’t start this if you’re not willing to see it through, Draco. It won’t do to have you tire of the tedium once Balaur’s attached to you.”

“If it’s all the same to you, Hermione, I will look after you both until I’m sure you no longer need my help.”

— which, in the quieter areas of Draco’s mind, began to resemble forever.

“Time for you to have a lie down. I’ll bring up our dinner,” and he lifted her from the chair to carry back to her bed.

…..

“Mother?”

“Draco! You’re early — aren’t you working in France this week?”

Acknowledging the relationship between a solvent Malfoy Enterprises and money in the Ministry’s coffers, Magical Law Enforcement lifted their restrictions; Draco took over as head of the family business. Draco’s therapy healer at St. Mungo’s played a significant role in getting the constraint lessened.

“Are you well, Granger?”

The coded phrase buffered the emotions neither youngster could handle right now.

“I’m bored. Your mother offered to keep me company. I’m not used to idleness.”

“I enjoyed my visit. Have you decided on a name?”

Hermione gazed up at Draco, waiting to see if their argument over naming the Malfoy heir was indeed at an end.

“Balaur Baiat,”

“‘Dragon’s Child’… Thank you, Miss Granger, for continuing our traditions.”

“Actually, Molly named him when she spelled us onto her clock. He’s a Malfoy — probably picked the name himself.”

“And I thought ‘pushy know-it-all’ was a Granger trait.”

Narcissa froze until the smile broke across Hermione’s slightly swollen face; this was playfulness not sniping.

“I’ll leave you two. Thursday?”

“I’ll be here.”

“I don’t know, Granger. That bludger you’re carrying looks like it’s moved lower.”

“Merlin! Let’s hope. I’m ready to have this baby — past ready.”

Lady Malfoy let loose an unrestrained laugh, recalling her own confinement as she stepped through the floo.

“You okay?”

Bear-hugging the panic he felt brought sweat out.

“We’re fine, just hungry. I waited for you; Charlie and Vlad ate earlier.”

“I’ll be right back,” and he apparated out and back in the blink of an eye with a tray of light foods. Lack of space meant her stomach could hold only small portions eaten many times a day.

“Draco, you don’t have to answer this… Why is your family so interested in Bali?”

“I thought we’d resolved this in Paris.”

“Not to my satisfaction…”

“Hermione…” he warned, a sign his control over his temper was slipping.

“I’m weeks from having the first half-blood Malfoy bastard —”

“And?”

“— and that’s not ‘Malfoy’.”

“You’re afraid!” he almost shouted as the epiphany landed, rocketing him backwards in the comfortable chair he’d brought weeks ago from the Manor.

“No I’m —”

“Yes you are! I’ve seen it before. The question is — what are you afraid of?”

Waiting her out, as he’d done before and after every rape, he knew he’d guessed right when the tears came.

“I could give you a list of reasons,” he eventually continued, “my mother’s the last Black — Aunt Andromeda doesn’t count as she was disinherited.”

“EXACTLY! Why would you or your parents want to associate with me or my son — and why would you want to acknowledge Bali!?”

“You’re afraid I’ll abandon you…”

Shock shaped both faces as Draco’s surmise worked it’s way through two first-rate minds.

“I KNOW YOU WILL!” the emotional woman — who’d yet to have time to deal with her own war wounds (thanks to their impending arrival) — shouted, “Eventually, people in Britain will move on and your family will regain it’s vaunted ‘place’ in the magical world. You’ll marry, Draco, and we’ll be an uncomfortable footnote in your post-war recovery. I don’t want to put Bali through that…”

“You’re not alone, Hermione,” he said evenly, “And I would never deny you or Bali, even if I do marry — which is unlikely. Can’t see any girl who can read the Prophet saying ‘YES!’ to a former Death Eater.”

“I can’t do this… There’s not enough of me left to pick up the pieces — again!" Hermione panted as the panic attack squeezed her chest, "He loves you so much that he punishes ME when you’re absent too long. It’s not FAIR, Draco!”

“Are your parents still in Australia?”

Only one shocked expression showed up this time.

“How did you know?…”

“You have nightmares, too…”

Pressing the heel of her hands to her eyes darkened them so the video of her parents leaving without her ran in high definition.

“I’ll help you find them, Hermione.”

“They’re not LOST, Ferret, and you’ve HELPED me enough, THANK YOU!”

The rebuke, laden with reminders and recriminations for her present inability to restore her former life, snatched stitches open in his secret place — with the result that he turned without retaliating and stepped through the floo to places unknown.

“DRACO!…” echoed in her suite so loudly it brought Charlie and Vlad on the run.

“He’s gone…” she whimpered — and doubled over in pain as her son beat out his own heartbreak inside her body.
- 6
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