Chapter Text
Chapter 1
May 2nd, 1999
The new atrium in the Ministry of Magic sparkled with the shine of new construction. It was an odd location for a Ministry gala but it made sense considering the unveiling of the new structures. Hermione knew that Harry had pulled every “Boy-Who-Lived” card in his hand to keep the new statue from being a shrine to himself. He’d begged and he’d pleaded and eventually Hermione had to pull some archaic laws from the depths of the magical archives to prove that Harry was within his rights to refuse a statue as long as he was living. Putting up an effigy of someone still alive violated ancient laws and Hermione threatened Kingsley with a lawsuit as Harry Potter’s lawyer if he didn’t find a way to stop it from happening.
The new statue was a faceless marble wonder that resembled a family of three. There was nothing Hermione could do nor anything Harry could say to stop this structure from being based on Harry, Lily and James when there were no distinctive features to make it identifiable.
Hermione walked over to Harry, a glass of faery champagne in one hand, the skirt of her dress in the other. She stood next to him, pretending to admire the sculpture that was so much bigger than the one at Godric’s Hollow.
“Nice night?” Harry asked, his eyes fixed on the monstrosity.
Scowling, Hermione shook her head a bit. “If you consider staying on one side of the atrium while Ron stays on the other side to be ‘nice’ then sure, I’m having a pleasant evening.”
Ron and Hermione had been broken up for a month now and he had arrived an hour ago at the one year anniversary held at the Ministry with a date. She was sure Ron wasn’t vindictive enough to literally sit around and choose a witch to bring based on who he thought would piss off his ex the most but he’d managed it. On Ronald’s arm this evening was a very dolled up Romilda Vane.
Unlike Ron’s jealous rage at Hermione going to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum, the “enemy”, Hermione was raging at the idea that Ron would consider dating a witch who had tried to drug his best friend with love potion. A love potion he had actually ingested instead, to be truthful.. Romilda was a vain, shallow, chit with loose morals when it came to relationships. Hermione had heard rumors even back in Hogwarts that Romlida had cheated on every boy she’d dated.
Seeing Ron replace her with a witch of less substance hurt. Then again, Ron was just showing what he truly valued in a partner: good looks. Hermione could not deny that Romilda Vane was sexy in her tight little black dress robes that exposed her front cleavage in such a way that very little imagination was needed to imagine what was covered. The highlight of her night so far had been watching across the room as Molly Weasley was introduced to Romilda by Ron. Hermione had hid her smirk with her glass while watching Molly’s face contorted with the effort to conceal her feelings and thoughts at the sight of Romilda’s clothing (or lack thereof).
Her evening had so far been spent dodging Ron which meant she was dodging Weasley’s left and right. George was the only one who did not take sides after the break up. As much as Molly and Arthur told Hermione she was always welcome, they hadn’t attempted to contact her at all after the break up. No owls reminding her that weekly Weasley dinner was Sunday and that she was expected to be there. No owls from Ginny asking her what had happened. Nothing. Hermione hadn’t expected much, though. The break up was fresh.
She sighed. Her life the past month had been terrible. After the horrible fight with Ron that ended their relationship of almost one year, Hermione had holed up in her flat, only going to work. She spent her evenings letting her emotions off their leash and then her mornings wrangling them back into their cages long enough to put in a day of work without any signs of distress visible to her coworkers. She was careful to dress her part and to arrive at the Ministry looking her best. At the end of the day, she made sure to hold it together long enough to reach the bank of floos dry eyed and with her face blank.
The gala she was currently attending was to reopen the Ministry atrium to the public and to celebrate the end of the war. Hermione was dressed as best as she could be for the occasion. She’d purchased a muggle gown in a rusty color that she secretly knew Ron would like. It was so rusty it was almost red but still sort of orangey. It looked like autumn to Hermione and she loved the way it made her feel sexy. If it happened to catch Ron’s eye, oh well. Hermione wasn’t usually one to be petty or to encourage emotions in those that she didn’t want to be with but in this case, she hoped that Ron would feel the sting of regret at seeing what he was missing. Now, though, she could see that Romilda Vane was looking more than good enough to keep Ron from looking at her for too long.
The back of Hermione’s gown was nearly nonexistent. Her entire back was exposed in a way she’d never been exposed in public before unless wearing a swimsuit at the beach counted. There were two thin straps of glittering onyx gems that crisscrossed between the sides of the back, keeping it from slipping off her shoulders, but it did nothing to stop people from being able to see the skin of her back. The exposure of her back ended just above her arse, the dimples at the bottom of her back were fully on display. She knew that the wizarding world was not used to muggle attire or the fact that muggle tended to show off more skin in their culture but Hermione had loved the dress after trying it on. The shop girl had gushed over Hermione in the store and it felt genuine. The wizarding world needed to become accustomed to the influx of muggleborn customs and Hermione was probably the best witch to pull off a daring muggle ball gown for the first time.
She’d certainly turned enough heads when the reporters caught sight of her coming in the front of the Ministry foyer. At first they had latched onto her because she was Hermione Granger, war heroine. Then they had taken her picture because she was wearing a muggle style dress rather than dress robes. Then, when she’d walked through the gaggle of reporters to enter the Ministry gala, they’d seen her back. She’d smiled as she walked away without a look back to gauge the reactions but for once, she was feeling good.
It felt amazing to be seen as something other than swotty, booking prude that all of the wizarding world thought she was.
As for her hair, she’d bought a small bottle of Sleekeazy’s and she discovered that when applied via her shampoo, her curls were sleek and shiny without a trace of frizz. Of course, no matter how sleek her curls were, she still had thick wild, long curly hair that she’d barely been able to wrangle it up into an updo that had curls spilling out here and there with a few loose tendrils at her temples and at the nape of her neck.
Beside her, Harry snorted. “ I’m even attempting to stay on the opposite side of the room as him tonight with that witch on his arm.”
They giggled together before Harry turned to look at her, apparently no longer wishing to look at the visage of marble representing his torn up family.
“Damn, Mi, you look good!” Harry whistled lowly as he took her hand and spun her around. “I mean, I saw you an hour or so ago but I didn’t really stop to look.”
She smiled when she finished turning to see Harry had his head cocked to the side as he eyed her up and down for a moment.
Slapping his arm playfully, she scolded, “Someone is going to take a picture of you looking at me like that and then you’ll be like me, on the outskirts of the Weasley family except you’ll have five angry Weasley men trying to beat you for breaking their sister’s heart.”
Laughing, Harry finished his drink. “Ginny knows for certain where you and I stand, Mi. She’s not worried that you’ll make a move on me and she knows that I’m not interested in you like that. I can appreciate how good you look with my girlfriend’s approval.”
Blushing, Hermione turned the champagne flute in her hand and studied it. “You look really good yourself, Potter.”
Smirking, Harry tugged at his neck tie and pretended to preen with confidence that was fake.
She looked around the atrium to see that there were a lot of people in attendance.
“In fact,” Harry continued, “I’m on orders from Ginny to be sure that you are taken care of.”
Hermione cocked an eyebrow at him. Ginny hadn’t even owled her since the break up and Harry wanted her to believe that Ginny was okay with Harry looking her up and down and escorting her around the gala?
Her best friend rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I know the break up has been unfair to you. Ginny was mad when I told her. She’s been owling Ron daily since it happened. I think she’s only sending howlers once a week now, though.”
Hermione stopped walking beside Harry and gripped his arm.
“You know we both love you, Mi. We want what’s best for you. If you and Ron aren’t meant to be together, then so be it but he didn’t handle his end of the break up the right way. Ginny only knows half of the story but she’s bright enough to read between the lines of who was mature and who was childish.”
She allowed Harry to gently tug her along with him to the bar in the corner for another drink.
“What part does she know?”
Taking a drink of his fresh glass of firewhiskey, Harry sheepishly admitted, “The part where Ron wanted to get married and start a family without having money, a house, or a long term plan of any kind. She knows that he was pressuring you and wanted you to eventually quit your job to take care of the kids while he worked as an auror and that he wasn’t being sensitive to your thoughts or wishes as to a career or what you wanted from life.”
With a sigh, Hermione took a sip of her new glass of champagne. She was relieved that was all Ginny knew because the other half of the story was that Ron was trying to knock her up on purpose to trap her into getting married sooner. When Hermione had caught on, the fight had been on. When she admitted that the healers had told her she may never be able to conceive a child, he’d lost it. He accused her of leading him on and she cried and tried to explain that she hadn’t followed through with the rest of the testing required to check the extent of her condition and that she only knew it was a possibility that was very likely. He’d gotten ugly with her and started slinging all the insults he could and it devolved from there.
Only Harry knew that the real reason for the break up was that Ron didn’t want to be with her after finding out she might not be able to bear him children. She’d pleaded with Harry not to break his nose or to tell anyone the truth of the break up. Molly and Arthur and the other Weasleys just thought that Hermione wasn’t ready to get married and have children while Ron was. Because Ron was the one to tell them, he spun the story in his favor. He was the broken hearted son that had the girl he loved had turned fickle on and left him. It didn’t seem to matter that Ron was the one dating already while Hermione was moping and keeping to herself.
“Look, Mi, I’ve got to go shake some more hands and stuff. Want to come with me and be my excuse out of dull conversations when they get to be too much?”
She laughed. “Not for all the gold in Gringotts, Harry!”
They both laughed at their private joke. Gold in Gringotts, indeed. She and Harry had to pay a lot of money to Gringotts in restitution. Harry had even paid Ron’s ⅓ because he knew Ron couldn’t afford to. Hermione had refused Harry’s help even though that meant her Hogwarts tuition and her savings for a house was gone. She’d taken her NEWTs at the Ministry rather than attending her last year of school and started a job at the bottom of the Magical Law Enforcement back in August.
Harry prepared to go do his duty at the gala as the Boy Who Lived and an auror but first he pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her temple, pausing to whisper to her, “You are unbelievably sexy tonight, Mi. Please be careful around all these horny blokes, yeah?”
A flash captured her grin as Harry was speaking to her ear. He pulled back and mouthed “I’m sorry” to her, indicating he’d known there was a reporter nearby watching them. Suddenly, Hermione really wanted to speak to Ginny to figure out exactly what she’d been telling Harry for him to be giving her attention like this. Whatever angle the two of them were playing, Hermione wasn’t sure of it but she didn’t want the world to have reason to begin speculating that she and Harry were cheating on Ginny.
“Well, you clean up well,” drawled a voice behind her at the bar.
Turning, Hermione saw Draco Malfoy looking entirely too casual in his fancy dress robes with a glass of firewhiskey in his hand.
She waited a moment for the punchline but he said nothing more leaving Hermione to assume he wasn’t going to insult her here at the gala.
“You as well,” she offered, saying nothing more without determining her former classmate's motives.
“I noticed that you and Weasel are keeping a quidditch pitch between you,” Draco commented while gesturing to the space of the atrium with his glass before pulling it back in and sipping his firewhiskey.
She pursed her lips and cast her eyes across the atrium to be sure that she was still standing in a safe place. Ron was far enough away from her, she noted, but she also realized she had his eyes. Romilda was gossiping with some other young witch that Hermione had no clue who she was while her ex boyfriend glared into space directly where Hermione was standing.
Turning back to Malfoy, Hermione smiled tightly. “Yes. I suppose we are.”
He nodded, eyebrows raised. She knew he understood what she was refusing to say. Slytherins were well versed in subtle, evasive conversational maneuvers.
“Well, since that’s the case, I was hoping you’d let me dance with you,” Draco said.
He set his empty glass down and held out his hand for her to take. She bit her lip and eyed his hand for a moment. She wasn’t sure what he was hoping to gain from asking her to dance but knowing Ron was watching had her skolling the rest of her glass and accepting his hand.
Draco’s smirk at her acceptance had her stomach clenching with anticipation. His hand was cool and it was a stark contrast to the hot and sweaty palms Ron always seemed to have. He guided her to the makeshift dance floor in the center of the atrium and bowed to her elegantly before pulling her in close.
It was no secret that Ronald was abysmal at dancing. Hermione was rarely ever able to convince him to dance with her and when he did, it was a slow sway from side to side with no attempt to keep time to the beat of the music.
Draco, though, could dance. He held her hand aloft as though it was delicate and dainty. His other hand was spread out flat across the small of her back, pressing her into his personal space so that he could lead her properly. Hermione wasn’t the best at dancing but she knew enough to follow just about anything except for the more exotic dances.
“I’ve got to say, Granger, I never thought we’d be here,” he commented.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He snorted. “Relax. I just mean that all those years in school together and here we are, dressed up fancy and enjoying a dance together while Weasel gets to watch me hold you and be jealous of me for once.”
It was a comment that was opposite to the type comments Draco usually directed at her and she couldn’t help but be suspicious that he was up to something.
“Why would Ron be jealous of you?”
A moment of silence passed, charged with tension as she waited for his response.
“Because I’m holding the most beautiful witch in the room and he’s the dumb arse who let her go.”
Her mind was blank. For a few minutes her mind was blank as a blush took over her face. She could feel Draco’s eyes on her.
“You don’t have to tell me a bunch of lies to get me to dance with you for publicity” she mumbled to his chest. He smelled like sandalwood and bergamot. Spicy and woodsy. She could feel the effects of his cologne working on her knickers as they suddenly felt damp.
It was no secret that while Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had been put on house arrest with no magic for a year followed by probation for 4 more years, the world was weary of them. The Malfoy name no longer meant as much to the wizarding world and Lucius was donating money left and right to try to repair the damage done to their reputations. Draco had been put on probation for a year and was currently the only Malfoy able to leave home. It would make sense that he was attending the event tonight to help the Malfoy image by garnering some good publicity.
Hermione felt annoyed because while she was pleased to hear a man call her beautiful, she had nearly 8 years of experience telling her she was not beautiful. She was irritated because even knowing this, she was responding to the physical closeness of the man who had tormented her as a boy. His smell, his cool hand on the skin of her lower back, his lean body so close to hers that she could feel the warmth of it. It was intoxicating. Or, was she the one intoxicated?
His hand on her back, flattened so that the fingers spread out across her skin. She’d not realized until now how tall Draco had gotten. She looked up to his face as she felt the fingers on his hand touching her back and pressing her closer until her breasts were brushing his chest.
“I know you have no reason to believe me but I’m telling you the truth. You are the most beautiful witch in the room but then again, you usually are. I might not have thought so for very long but trust me when I say I’m not stupid enough to forget it now that I know it.”
She didn’t know how to respond so she allowed Draco to hold her close and to take her around the dance floor. She knew there were going to be photos of their dance for the papers but Draco seemed to actually be aiming to dance away from them. Whenever she caught sight of the reporter with the camera, they seemed to twirl away from them, forcing the reporter to edge around the dance floor in an attempt to get a better shot.
The song was coming to a close when she saw Ron coming towards her. Her dance partner must have felt her tense as he looked over his shoulder to see Ron bearing down on them.
“Come, it’s time for another drink,” he told her, pulling her off the dance floor so that Ron would have to stop and go around the edge of it or fight through a lot of couples dancing.
Before they got to the bar, George Weasley intercepted her. She looked over to Draco to apologize only to see he’d backed away from her and George to allow them a moment of privacy.
“Granger,” George grinned at her wickedly. “So you’ve chosen the best revenge possible, eh? You look gorgeous in that dress. My idiot brother has got to be kicking himself now.”
Smiling, Hermione accepted a hug and a kiss on the cheek from the solo twin. “Thanks, George. I appreciate it.”
“I dunno bout the rest of the family, but I think I’d rather keep you than him if we’re choosing sides. Any chance you might want to come by the shop soon and help out with a product I’ve designed?”
She spoke with George for a moment, agreeing on a time and date to meet up. Her eyes flicked over to Draco occasionally to ensure he hadn’t walked off and left from boredom. George followed her eyes and grinned.
“Oi! Malfoy, can I trouble you to stick to Granger here for a bit longer tonight? I’m thinking you can get ickle Ronnikins’ head to explode if you can work in another dance. Maybe stroke a finger up her spine while he watches?”
Hermione stalked off, not wanting to be part of the conspiracy George was speaking of. Truthfully, she wasn’t used to being spoken of as an object of desire.
Footsteps approached and she smelled his cologne before she could see him to see which one had followed her.
He said nothing but he stood close enough to her that she could feel his body heat again. He raised a hand to signal that he was needing assistance.
“A firewhiskey for me and whatever the lady wishes,” he ordered.
“Firewhiskey, Blishen’s only,” she ordered.
“Blishen’s?” Draco questioned.
Ogden’s was the more expensive and finer of the two varieties but Hermione liked the taste of the cheaper version better. She shrugged a shoulder to admit that she knew it was odd but she had no good answer for her preference.
“Sorry, Hermione,” George murmured to her as he approached her and leaned backwards against the bar on her other side. “Ron’s making his way over here. Do what you want with that information, love. It was good to see you.”
George accepted his drink and discreetly pointed at something. She and Draco turned to look at Ron getting closer to them. When she looked away, George was striding away from them with his own glass of firewhiskey.
“Well Granger, do you fancy another dance or wanna get out of here?”
Maybe it was the three glasses of champagne and the current firewhiskey she’d drunk on an empty stomach. Maybe it was the warmth of a male body so close to hers that smelled good. Maybe it was her ex approaching her to speak about things she didn’t want to discuss at all, let alone in public. She decided it didn’t matter because she was feeling desired and even if she woke up tomorrow with regrets, at least tonight she’d enjoy herself.
Two gulps was all it took to finish her firewhiskey. Draco’s eyes were wide as he followed suit. He tossed a couple galleons down on the bar for a tip even though it was a free bar. His hand was offered to her once again and she didn’t hesitate to accept it this time.
He tugged her close and she felt his finger stroke from between her shoulder blades down her spine until he reached the back of her dress which was only an inch above her arse. She knew her back was to Ron and she knew he was witnessing their interaction but after having to watch him with Romilda Vane all evening, she no longer cared
“Your place or mine?”
July 23rd, 1999
Her job in the department of magical law enforcement was usually pretty boring but this week was a big week. There were several trials happening and there were few bills that Hermione was presenting to the Wizengamot in hopes of passing. She’d been working hard, nonstop all month without much sleep and it was beginning to show. Lack of appetite, anxiety rolling in her stomach at all hours, and dizzy spells as a result of a lack of nourishment and sleep were obvious to anyone who looked at her longer than a few seconds.
An hour before she was to present her bills, she was in the bathroom freshening up when a wave of dizziness came over her. She sank down the wall to close her eyes and wait it out. She had twenty minutes to be in the courtroom but nothing she was doing was helping. She fished out a handkerchief from her pocket to wet and dab at her face. It seemed to help enough to stand shakily and make her way to the courtroom.
She made it through presenting her bills but as the vote commenced, she had to sit down. Black spots were dotting her vision again and she felt hot and flushed. She knew her abrupt move to sit down had attracted attention and a few people were asking her if she was okay.
She waved her hand at them dismissively and stood up again to reconvene her job but the black spots took of her vision. She heard a shout as she stumbled and fell. Hands were on her elbows trying to help up but she resisted.
“I’m fine. Just a little tired,” Hermione insisted, crawling to her knees and standing again.
She wasn’t fine. No sooner than she stood, she passed out. The last thing she heard before the darkness took over was a panicked cry from someone to get the floo open to Saint Mungo’s.
That had been the event that led to the biggest surprise of her life. Saint Mungo’s had run diagnostics on her and the healer had told her she was pregnant. Never in her life had she thought she would be pregnant. She’d thought it impossible.
Of course, this led her current healer to bring in her last healer to consult and the result was that while she had some spell damage she could in fact, conceive. She’d shouted at the healers in a rare tantrum seeing as the answer they gave her was obvious. If they were telling her she was pregnant then of course it stands to reason that she could conceive. Her next reaction was tears. Ron had broken up with her for admitting that she wasn’t sure she could ever get pregnant and here she was, knocked up. The shock of being pregnant so suddenly and unexpectedly took precedence over her thoughts.
Harry arrived not soon after the bomb was dropped on her. News traveled fast in the Ministry and Harry didn’t waste time arriving at Saint Mungo’s to check on his best friend.
Her emotions were flying a mile a minute as her dark haired best friend held her. She didn’t know what to think or what to say.
“Mi? The father, Mi,” Harry whispered to her gently. “Do you want me to get him?”
This was a thought that Hermione had yet to even consider. She knew who the father was and that was going to be an issue of its own.
The father was Draco Malfoy and the issue was that he didn’t know that he’d had sex with her and she was forbidden from speaking to him about it.
May 3rd, 1999
Hermione woke up in a bed she didn’t remember with a partner she didn’t remember. Her head was pounding as she tried to reconcile her memories that led her here. Reaching up, she pushed her hand into the insanely fluffy pillow so she could see next to her. Peeking over she was able to see the blonde hair of Draco Malfoy.
Quietly, Hermione located her dress and knickers. She knew she’d danced with him at the gala. She remembered George practically daring Draco to dance with her again to make Ron jealous. That was really the last thing she remembered.
She dressed and left the bedroom quietly, looking for her heels. Had she made a fool of herself? She really hadn’t drank that much. Wouldn’t her memories of the night before be more blurry from the start of her drinking rather than cutting off at a particular point? Had her memory been wiped? She’d woken up naked but she didn’t feel any extra fluids or soreness or anything that she usually felt after sex. She'd found no bruises suggesting she'd been forced.
Her heels in hand, Hermione looked around to make sure she had all her things before flooing home.
May 6th, 1999
For a few days after waking up in Draco’s place, Hermione was unsure of how to react. Without her memory she had no way of knowing if she’d been raped or if she’d been willing. Maybe they’d both just passed out naked. All she knew was that she'd been drinking Blishen's and dancing with Draco Malfoy as Ron stood by and jealously watched them. No matter how hard she strained her mind, she could come up with no memory of what happened between that and waking up next to Malfoy in what must have been his place.
It wasn’t until she met with George that she found answers. He'd asked her at the gala to help with a project and followed it up with an owl so she agreed to meet him. George was doing much better now, a year later, but Fred's death hit him hard some days. She knew that having him reach out for help with an experiment was a good sign and didn't want to refuse lest he fall into a slump.
They’d met in a small restaurant in Diagon Alley just around the corner from Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes to eat. George had described the potion he had invented and asked what she predicted the outcome of such a potion to be.
“Well, if you’re intending to use bicorn hoof and faery wings, you should expect a side effect of forgetfulness,” she had told him.
Considering her advice, George asked, “And what of the lust aspect? When the billywig is added, it targets the subject’s attraction which is what makes it so different from love potions. It brings any attraction the subject feels to the forefront of the mind.”
Her face scrunched up as she considered this. “Yes, but it doesn’t compel the subject to act on it so how would the subject know if they were feeling something that they usually feel?”
Smiling, George admitted, “I invented it to help in situations where a subject is in denial of their feelings. They won’t be forced to act but they would have a harder time denying their attraction after imbibing the potion.”
Shaking her head at George, she said, “Before you test it, you’ll need to find a substitute ingredient for the bicorn hoof. You need to keep faery wings in it for the targeting and focusing factor but when combined with the bicorn hoof, your subject will forget about what you’re attempting to help them realize.”
She watched George’s face fall and she knew then that George had done something.
Using her prefect voice, Hermione huffed, “Out with it Weasley. What. Did. You. Do?”
He licked his lips and swallowed. “What do you remember of the Ministry gala?”
She hadn’t been able to help cursing him with a stinging hex. “That was because of YOU?”
It turned out, George had used his new potion to spike hers and Malfoy’s drinks at the bar before he’d left them. She and Draco had drank them quickly and that was the last thing she could recall until she woke up the next morning.
It was with a stilted voice that she informed George of the result of his little joke.
“George, do you realize that by pulling this prank on Draco fucking Malfoy that you could very well lose Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes?! He could sue you and take it all!!”
“You said you left before he woke, right?”
“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Well, let’s not tell him what I did and hope that he doesn’t remember anything. He’ll just think he drank too much,” George had reassured her.
“That’s not the point, George! Even if the potion worked beyond its ability to make us forget everything after we drank it, what you did to us is similar to rape! The potion might not compel the drinker to act on their urges but there's no way to prove what happened between us with neither of us retaining our memory! He’s going to be furious with us!”
Concern showed on George’s face as he reached over to grasp her hand. “I’m not going to let you get wrapped up in this, Hermione. You had nothing to do with any of it. I’m the idiot that didn’t realize the potion wasn’t ready for testing. I’m the idiot that thought it would be a good prank. I never thought you’d leave the Ministry with Malfoy as soon as the potion was in your system.”
As angry as she was with George, she knew he hadn’t intended to cause her problems. He'd just thought that she and Malfoy might make fools of themselves by flirting in front of Ron. She waved him off with a threat to castrate him if he attempted anything like this with anyone ever again.
Outside the restaurant they’d parted ways but Hermione hadn’t made it far before a figure stepped into her way.
“Oh, excuse me, sir, I didn’t see you-”
Lucius Malfoy stood there as regal as ever, with a sinister look on his face.
It was past the one year probation period since the Malfoys were officially arrested and tried in the week after the war.
“Miss Granger, I was hoping that you and I could have a conversation. Walk with me?”
Though it was said as pleasant as possible, Hermione heard the threat and allowed him to tuck her hand into the crook of his elbow.
“It comes to my attention Mr. Weasley has done something naughty concerning my son, Draco.”
She said nothing so as to not incriminate herself. He tucked his arm against his side tightly as to keep her from being able to pull her hand away.
“You see, I had thought Draco’s behavior was concerning after the gala. His mother lived vicariously through him for the past year and when he couldn’t recall much of the end of the gala, we both found it odd despite Draco saying he might have drank a bit heavily. See, the pictures of the two of you in the Daily Prophet seemed to show him as being as smooth as he was taught to be in his movements.”
Lucius paused to guide her around a boy and his mother who had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to pick up something the young boy had dropped.
“I’ve seen Draco drink so much he was stumbling down drunk and still he remembered his actions. It didn’t seem likely for Draco to attend a public function like that and get so drunk he couldn’t remember half his night but yet still be able to waltz through the dance floor with you on his arm.”
Her heart was pounding inside her chest as she tried to look unaffected by the story Lucius Malfoy was telling her.
“Yes, something didn’t add up. Until today, I didn’t know what and so I had said nothing to my son but now I know that he was drugged and that he likely disappeared for the night with you, the most well-known muggleborn ever to grace the wizarding world.”
She took note of his usage of the word ‘muggle born’ in substitution for ‘mudblood’ though she couldn't hazard a guess as whether that was because of where they were currently or because he was trying to change his image as a prejudice pureblood.
“What is the point of the conversation, Mr. Malfoy?” Hermione asked as she looked across the street and waved with her other hand at a couple of teenagers who were trying to catch her eye in awe.
A soft laugh that didn’t seem genuine escaped him. “What I want will be determined later, Miss Granger. Just know that I know enough to sue your friend Mr. George Weasley and to put him out of business forever. Since money means less to me than having an open ended debt from you, I’m going to tuck it in my back pocket for now. Until then,” he sneered, “stay away from Draco and do not alert him as to the events of May 2nd, 1999 that he can’t remember. Let him believe he was black out drunk and that you danced at the Ministry and that is all.”
Nodding her head, she said nothing in fear of giving Lucius more ammunition for blackmail.
“When I determine what I require from you, we shall revisit this conversation, Miss Granger.”
Licking her lips nervously, Hermione whispered, “And, what if what you determine to be the debt is unacceptable to me?”
A wicked grin crossed his face, “Then I suppose I’ll own Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes.”
She had watched him walk away as though he had not just blackmailed her into compliance and determined to herself not to tell George what had just happened. She knew he didn’t mean for any of this to happen and he would only feel more guilty over it all if she told him. It was good to see him pranking someone after Fred’s death and she didn’t want to take away any of his peace.
Sitting in a hospital bed with Harry wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Hermione tried to think of what to do. Lucius had yet to name the cost of the debt she owed him for not ruining WWW. If she were to tell Draco of the pregnancy, she would be violating the order he gave her. Draco would have to be told that they’d apparently had sex that neither one of them could remember and that he’d impregnated her by some miracle.
Then again, with the previous doubt the healers had on her ability to conceive, she may not stay pregnant for long. She was currently about 12 weeks along. She knew some pregnancies ended in a miscarriage but she was approaching the second trimester now. The chances of a miscarriage were relatively low.
“Harry, I do know who the father is but...neither of us remembers the circumstances leading to the conception. There was an accident involving a new potion that left us without memories,” she confessed quietly.
Over the next hour she told Harry everything. How George had met with her to get feedback on how the potion worked only to learn his prank hadn’t worked quite the way he’d intended. She admitted to Lucius overhearing their conversation and following her out the door in order to blackmail her into silence on the matter and to hold a debt over her head.
Her best friend was fuming but he sat next to her, stroking her hair and letting her lean on his shoulder. She told him all of it, how she’d felt at the gala, how she’d felt the next morning and how terrified she was of what Lucius Malfoy was going to ask for.
“Look, Mi, I think you should send for him. Get him to come here and see that you’re pregnant. Let him talk to your healers and determine that it’s really Draco’s kid. Let him decide how to tell Draco what happened. Without his approval, you’ll violate the agreement his slimy blackmail has demanded.”
Nodding, she knew Harry was right. Her opinion on Draco Malfoy was inconsequential. He was her baby's father, without a doubt, and deserved to know regardless of how he may feel about the baby.
“This is total thestral shit, though! He’s out of house arrest for days before he’s blackmailing an innocent into silence and open-ended debts! It’s like he’s learned nothing!”
Feeling her eyes droop, Hermione listened to Harry pace the room and rant.
“Look, I’ll just write a letter and ask him to visit me. I’m being kept overnight for observation since I was dehydrated and lacking sleep before I hit my head when I passed out,” Hermione sighed.
“Why did you faint,” Harry asked, pausing in his pacing with his hands in his hair like he usually did when frustrated.
“It’s apparently a pregnancy thing. My blood pressure was too low and when combined with all the work and stress and the lack of eating and drinking…”
“You’re going to have to reign in your workaholic tendencies while you’re carrying my niece or nephew,” Harry cautioned her.
For the first time since she’d awoken to the shock of learning she was with child, Hermione smiled.
“Uncle Harry? I think that’s an appropriate title for my child’s godfather,” she grinned.
A few hours later, Hermione woke to the feeling of another presence in her room. She opened her eyes to see that Harry was long gone but Lucius Malfoy was sitting in the chair beside her bed. His cane rested across his lap nonchalantly but Hermione knew it was to remind her that his wand was within reach.
“Miss Granger, you’ve awakened. I thought when I received your owl that the words ‘as soon as possible’ might have meant that you were expecting me,” he said silkily, his icy blue eyes drilling holes into her with their stare.
“Sorry about that,” Hermione apologized to him even though it rubbed her the wrong way to do so. “I’ve got a bit of a concussion.”
“Yes,” Lucius said, sitting up in his seat as though eager to get to the point. “I was told that. May I ask why you have insisted I visit you in Saint Mungo’s for a concussion? Did you need to be reminded of what we discussed the last time we spoke?”
She felt irritated at his haughty tone. “No, I remember our last conversation perfectly and it’s the reason I asked you to meet with me here. You see, until today I had no idea that there would be consequences from that night after the Ministry gala.”
She watched her words sink in. His blue eyes went even colder as they narrowed while fixed on her. “For your sake, you’d best hope that is not true.”
Blinking back tears, to her horror, she glared back at him. “Even though I have forgiven the circumstances that led me here, I am a victim too, Mr. Malfoy. I, too, have no memory of the evening that put me in this position.”
“That may be true,” Lucius agreed, “but the events that caused this were your own fault even if you don’t remember them.”
She flushed. Yes, she’d had sex that she couldn’t remember but not using a contraceptive charm was her fault, too.
“It takes two to stir the cauldron. I’m not the only one at fault here. Neither of us took precautions, apparently. We are both victims.”
Lucius stood. “I can guarantee that my son is a bigger victim in this than you, Miss Granger. He will not be informed.”
Hermione looked away. So Lucius did not want his son to be told that he’d fathered a child. Lucius Malfoy was...disgusting and loathsome.
“Here is the new plan, Miss Granger. In a goodwill move to thank me for not suing your friend for all he’s worth and ruining his life, you will agree to not make any moves to inform Draco of this child. You will raise it on your own, if you wish to keep it, and you will leave the Malfoy name out of the equation.”
Angrily, Hermione snapped, “You would deprive your grandchild of the right to know its father, its grandfather, its grandmother? You would have the child who bears your genetics to be raised by me and to never know his or her lineage?”
Lucius leaned over her on the hospital bed. “That child is probably not even related to me. You wouldn’t be the first witch in history to claim pregnancy in order to trap a rich husband and ruin the genealogy of hundreds of years.”
“I can prove that the child is related to you. That’s why you are meeting me here in Saint Mungo’s,” she retorted. “That’s not the point, though. You truly would deny this child?”
Hermione could see the white of his knuckles as he gripped the rails on either side of her hospital bed. “I would not have Draco’s life ruined by a baby he did not intend to create. He has much to accomplish in the wizarding world before he sires a child and when that time comes, he will have a proper spouse that is approved of by his parents and his child will be a proper heir to the Malfoy family.”
She couldn’t help the tears that fell.
Lucius stood up and backed away from her. “Do we have an agreement, then? I shall leave Mr. Weasley’s store alone and will not seek to use the knowledge of what he did to ruin him. In return, you will not tell Draco about the child nor will you use the parentage of the child to ask for anything from the Malfoy name. There will be no money exchanged or any favors owed to you or your child simply because we share blood with the sprog.”
Breathing heavily, she nodded. Lucius had her over a barrel here and he knew it. The only way to save George’s business and his own future was to agree to be a single parent to her child.
A healer bustled in and eyed Lucius before taking a few diagnostics.
“I’m sorry, Healer Huxley, if I am able to get a hair from a member of the family of the father, would that be close enough of a match to determine paternity?”
She could feel Lucius’ glare at her involving the healer in their business.
Huxley looked from Lucius Malfoy to Hermione Granger with suspicion. “Yes, the hair of a grandparent or a full blood brother or sister is a close enough match to determine paternity for the fetus. Will you be requiring this service, Miss Granger?”
Lucius cleared his throat. “Yes, but we will also require an oath to keep this conversation a secret no matter the results.”
The healer looked alarmed. “The healer oaths already keep me from sharing this information, Mr. Malfoy.”
Hermione had to agree with Lucius. “Yes, but it doesn’t stop it from being recorded on my charts nor does it stop you from telling other medical personnel involved with my care.”
It took a bag of gold from Lucius to get the healer to agree to swear an oath of silence on the matter even though there was nothing illegal about asking for an oath of silence from one’s healer so long as the knowledge being concealed was not harmful to the heath of the patient or to others.
With the oath sworn, Healer Huxley placed a charm on Hermione’s stomach that caused a grainy image of a tiny little fetus to show in the air.
“Exact conception occurred between May 2nd and May 3rd,” the healer commented out loud as some numbers glowed in the air below the image.
“Gestation period is 13 weeks and 5 days. I think they were only estimating before using other methods,” the healer admitted to Hermione. “Do you want to know the gender?”
“Not just yet,” Hermione rushed to say. “I might ask in a bit though.”
Next the healer used a potion to numb a spot on Hermione’s stomach before using a large needle to penetrate her womb. Hermione watched the black and white grainy image of her child as a tiny little line appeared on the screen.
Then the needle was removed and the grainy image in the air disappeared.
Healer Huxley accepted a hair from Lucius and opened a cabinet in the wall to retrieve a potion which was then poured into a shallow dish. The amniotic fluid and Lucius’ hair was added to the potion. A green glow emitted from the dish where the potion itself was now green.
“That means a match. Until the baby is born, I can’t determine anything more than that the baby is related to Mr. Malfoy.”
Knowing the baby was Malfoy’s and seeing the proof were two different things. She had used logic to determine that he was the father but not being able to remember the intercourse made seeing the green glowing potion a bit shocking.
Eyes wide, Hermione nodded, dismissing the healer who seemed reluctant to leave her patient in a room with a suspicious visitor but she seemed to realize that hesitating would be dangerous.
Hermione sighed and leaned back on her bed.
“Yes, well, it seems that we’ve reached an accord, Miss Granger?” Lucius hissed from his spot across the small hospital room.
“It seems so,” she eyed him warily.
“We need a bonder,” he stated plainly, eager to conclude their business.
Pushing a curl out of her face, Hermione offered, “Harry would be willing. He’s here in the hospital somewhere, I think.”
A sneer took over the face of the arrogant silvery blonde haired wizard. “And you think it...wise…to involve him in affairs such as this?”
She sneered back at him as best she could. “He already knows."
He stared her down but gestured widely with his hands, palms up, to indicate that she should proceed.
Closing her eyes, Hermione recalled the time when she was a first year and she’d passed her charms final with over 100%. Professor Flitwick had gushed and complemented her until she was red in the face.
Using that memory, she nonverbally conjured her patronus. The otter frolicked around in front of her, waiting for it’s message.
“Harry, could you please come back to my room in Saint Mungo’s presently?”
She flicked her wand, and the otter zoomed off through the wall to seek out her best friend.
When she glanced at her visitor, she could swear his face showed curiosity and intrigue at her spellwork. He didn’t ask any questions about it, though. He took to tapping his cane on the floor every so often and Hermione took to counting them. At 42, the door to her room opened and Harry burst in.
“Mi, what’s wrong?”
She smiled sweetly at him. “I'm okay. I need you to be the bonder for an oath, please.”
Harry cast a glare at Lucius. “Malfoy. Not out of your house arrest for very long before you’re back to blackmailing innocents?”
An empty laugh filled the air. “Ah, but neither Miss Granger nor Mr. Weasley is actually innocent in this, are they?”
“Hermione is, yes. She didn’t mean for any of this to happen. She’s a victim just like your son.”
Shaking his head, Lucius disagreed. “Perhaps but she does not have to be involved in this. My quarrel here is with George Weasley. I can always seek him out to solve the issues I’m having with my son’s part in this ordeal.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, because Hermione is the type to roll on her friends. She would never just step aside and allow you to ruin his life no matter what her part in this is.”
“Well, that is her choice, isn’t it? That brings us to why you are here or did you simply want to bemoan how unfair this is and go over options that Miss Granger has already been through?”
A pause. Hermione’s eyes flickered between them both.
“Fine. Mi, this is what you want?”
Her heart was racing at the condemnation she was feeling at the actions that she was about to take.
“No, but I am going to nonetheless. I don’t like the idea of lying to my child about his or her father nor do I like the idea of depriving a father of the knowledge that he has a child. No matter who the father is, or what his reaction to the news would be, he deserves the right to at least know. I don’t have a choice though so let’s just get it over with.”
Lucius smiled at her acquiescence and turned to Harry.
“To be clear, her part of this oath is to promise to never tell anyone that Draco is the father of her child nor is she to seek me out to ask me for anything in regards to the raising of the child or-”
Hermione cut him off. “No. The agreement was not to tell Draco. You just amended the oath to say that I can’t tell anyone.”
“And what good will it do to tell others? If you go telling everyone, they will tell him. That violates the spirit of the oath and will come back on you.”
Shaking her head, Hermione retorted. “That would be my business, then, wouldn’t it? If it is my responsibility to not tell Draco, then I should be careful about not telling people who will tell him.”
Lucius was angry now and Hermione was now aware that she had more bargaining chips than he did. While she was desperate to save George’s shop and possibly his ability to operate as an entrepreneur in the wizarding world, Lucius was desperate to keep the news of an illegitimate half-blood Malfoy heir from reaching anyone in the wizarding world. It wasn’t just about Draco finding out and ruining his future chances of finding a pureblood wife to settle down with.
“This oath will include my promise to keep the knowledge of my child, of Draco’s child , from him. I will not purposefully do or say anything that will give him the knowledge that he’d fathered a child with me. That is all that I will promise, Mr. Malfoy. If you slip up and tell him, that will not come back on me. I will not be punished for you giving him the knowledge that I am to keep from him so you will not word the oath to include it.”
“Then you will include a clause that if you will only share the news of the baby’s true parentage with someone who swears an oath to keep the knowledge to themselves. I will not have you spreading the word around so that everyone is free to tell others of it so long as they don't tell my son,” he snapped, tapping his cane on the floor for emphasis.
She nodded curtly. Lucius wanted Draco to never find out but he also wasn't keen on her child's true parentage becoming common knowledge to everyone aside from Draco.
Harry turned his narrowed green eyes on Lucius. “And what do you plan to give the oath, Malfoy?”
Breaking in before he could reply, Hermione inserted, “He’s going to swear that he will relinquish the rights to use his knowledge of what George did against any of us. He will no longer be able to use it to blackmail either George, myself, or the baby. So long as I hold up my end of the bargain by not telling Draco, he will not use his knowledge of this incident to bankrupt George or any other ideas he might come up with.”
“Okay,” Harry said, coming closer to Hermione so that he could do the binding.
They said their oaths and the spell was said and sealed and just like that, Hermione Granger had sentenced her child to a life without a father.
