Disclaimer: Not JKR- so I don’t own HP!
Hermione tried to mentally brace herself as she heard the approaching footsteps and voices. She knew that they would be coming for her soon. They needed her blood- all of it- to complete the Ritual of Resurrection. But she was sure that they also needed Louisa.
“And Louisa is at the Order Headquarters- she should be safe,” Hermione mumbled in an attempt to reassure herself. She was certain that Draco would keep Louisa out of danger- for that matter, she knew that Harry, Ron, Ginny, Dumbledore and any of the Order members would protect the child. If for no other reason, they’d guard the child because she is an innocent. But she hoped that they had figured out why Louisa had been a specific target of Voldemort’s- she desperately hoped that they had worked out the details of the Ritual of Resurrection. Surely Ginny would have known to look in her briefcase. If they found her birth ritual notes, there would have been a good chance that they’d identify the correct spell.
And then they might realize what has to be done to remove the threat, she thought, shuddering. There were precious few options available to her now to protect Louisa. And without Draco, there was only one thing that she could still do.
But I’ll wait as long as I can, she sighed, before I do that.
The door creaked open. Once again, Hermione shielded her eyes from the blindingly bright wand light. She listened carefully as whoever it was made their way over to her. She could only hear one set of footsteps but she had been certain that she’d heard more than one voice.
“Well, well, Mudblood. We meet again,” came a bizarrely familiar drawl.
Hermione kept silent though she vainly tried to look past the light to see the speaker.
“I’m glad to see that you’ve kept yourself alive and well,” sneered the person. Hermione thought that the speaker must be a man- yet there was something odd about the voice- something she couldn’t quite place.
“I myself prevented your death- countless times, you filthy bitch.” The speaker paused and then walked a bit closer to Hermione. “It really is quite amazing that something so polluted as your blood has turned out to be so invaluable!” She heard high-pitched laughter, as if the speaker was deliriously amused at his own joke.
“You’ll never have my blood,” Hermione said in a quiet but firm voice. She heard a sharp intake of brief.
Crack! The speaker’s hand shot out faster than Hermione could duck. She felt a small hard fist collide against her jaw. Rings cut into her face. She fell back against the floor.
“Vile filth, how dare you talk back to me!”
Hermione lay on the floor, clutching her throbbing cheek in her hand. She struggled to keep her thoughts clear. She had to find out if they had Louisa.
“Why do you need my tainted blood anyway?” she taunted.
The scornful laughter returned. Hermione wandered if the person would really tell her anything useful.
“You should be honored, Mudblood. I require your contaminated blood to do my Master’s work. You see, you will restore my Lord. And when he returns, we will continue his noble work- weeding out the weak mudbloods and half-bloods- but don’t you worry, I do think I will personally kill those whom you love the most,” he mocked.
Unbidden, Draco and Louisa’s faces flashed in her mind. The laughter became cruel and harsh.
“Potter and Weasley, of course. But also your base Muggle parents. Know this, I will wipe out your entire line, Mudblood. And that includes the Abomination!”
Hermione stifled the gasp. This was the first she’d heard of Louisa!
“Abomination? My line?” she asked doubtfully, hoping the man would take her bait.
She could hear the man taking deep furious breaths.
“Stupid girl! It is not for me to question the ways of my Lord,” the man answered, somewhat hesitantly. But then he continued, in jeering tones, “You will already be dead, of course. But I can assure you that I will take great pleasure in killing the atrocity that resulted from your dirty blood and my son!”
Hermione felt suddenly winded as though she had been hit again.
“Who are you?” she screamed.
But she was met with only the hateful mocking laughter. She heard the man turn away from her and walk towards the door.
“Save your strength. Tonight you will bleed- my Lord will rise- and my son will be free,” he said as he walked out of the dungeon.
Hermione’s mind was reeling. Tonight! She tried hard to think about what time of day it could be. She had been fairly sure that Parkinson brought her food in the morning. She felt reasonably certain that that had been hours ago as she had long since visited the filthy toilet and was now extremely hungry once again.
I only have a short time if I’m to do what I have to do, she realized miserably.
She closed her eyes and leaned against the unforgiving stone wall. Now that she was resigned to the only course of action left to her, she knew she had to figure out the rest of what the man had said. Then she would try one more time to warn Draco and the others with wandless magic. That was all she had left now.
Unchecked, tears streamed down her face.
------------------------------
Draco Apparated in front of the gates of Malfoy Manor. He had been there less than a few seconds when the gates opened. Purposefully, he walked up the long driveway.
His mother had answered his owl immediately, confirming that she was expecting his arrival just now.
He calmly walked up to the front entrance. He waited a few seconds for the door to be opened. When it wasn’t, he pulled out his wand and opened it himself.
“Draco, darling, is that you?” came his mother’s voice from down the long darkened hallway.
Feeling somewhat relieved, he answered, “Yes, Mother.” He strode towards the library, where he assumed she’d be waiting.
She was laying on the chaise lounge, her most elegant dress robes fanned about her. Her hair was done up in an elaborate fashion and she was bedecked in some of her finest jewelry. He was instantly suspicious of her immaculate appearance.
“Mother, you look very nice this evening. You haven’t tricked me into another dinner party, have you?” he asked in what he hoped was a gentle joking manner.
“Oh, Draco, dear, you think you can see straight through me, don’t you?” she laughed.
He sat down across from her, eyeing her closely, as she continued to laugh.
“Mother?” he pressed when her laughter had taken on a hysterical note.
“Mother!” he said, more harshly. She stopped abruptly.
“Well, my love. Tonight, as it seems, is a special night,” she replied with a gleam in her eyes. She leaned even more languorously into her chair.
“Be a dear and bring me a drink,” she commanded.
Draco said nothing but rose from his chair and fixed her a drink. He handed her a strong concoction of firewhiskey and chocolate liquor before returning to his own seat.
“What? None for you?” she asked innocently.
“Not tonight, Mother. Now what is this about? Why did you summon me here? You said it was urgent,” he prompted.
Narcissa didn’t look at him. She ran a long bejeweled finger across the rim of her glass. Slowly, she dipped her finger into the liquid. With nearly obscene sensuousness, she leisurely licked the strong alcohol off of her finger.
“Very well,” she said, her fingers now gently caressing her full bottom lip. She closed her eyes, her breaths coming quick and shallowly.
“Mmm…. I love it when you do that,” she moaned softly, as her fingers now trailed along her jaw line and then ever so slowly down her neck.
Draco shifted back in his chair. He had quickly surmised that his mother’s behavior had taken a decided turn for the worse. He was feeling extremely uncomfortable in the increasingly warm room.
“Mother?”
Narcissa’s eyes snapped open, her usually pale face now flushed.
“Open the box on the mantle- the little red one,” she barked.
Draco started at her rapid change in mood. More out of incredible curiosity than anything else, he stood up and walked to mantle. He saw the box immediately. Taking it in his hand, he returned to his chair.
Narcissa raised herself just slightly. She was watching him intently.
He turned the box over in his hand. It was small, just large enough to fit comfortably in the palm of his hand. It was truly a magnificent artifact. The gleaming cherry wood seemed ancient. Draco wondered why he’d never seen it before. After giving it a quick but thorough examination, he gingerly opened the box. There among deep folds of black velvet sat an exquisite ring. Reverently, he took the ring out of the box.
It was delicately designed, with an intricately patterned filigree. It was silver in color though he could tell by touch that the metal was much softer- most likely platinum. A lovely sparkling diamond was inlaid in the front of the ring. He’d really never seen anything quite like it. It was so beautiful that it nearly left him breathless.
Then he noticed something else- something like a quiet humming. He deduced that the ring itself was giving off some sort of magical energy. It was quiet but powerful, nonetheless. Hastily, he put the ring back in the box, though he left the lid open. He finally returned his gaze to his mother’s expectant face.
But his mother wasn’t looking at him- rather it was no longer his mother’s face.
A deep rich yet hollow laughter filled the massive space of the library. It was strangely familiar and yet off-putting. He recognized it immediately.
“Lucius,” he said, quietly.
“About time, boy,” came his father’s voice.
Draco regarded the person in front of him. His mother’s body was very clearly still there. Yet it had somehow changed- he could see how it was constrained by another presence. He was suddenly reminded of the puppet show that he’d taken Louisa to on her birthday. He involuntarily shuddered.
“That ring is for your bride, Draco. Your mother and I have grown tired of your willful insolence. We have chosen a respectable candidate for you since you have proved yourself utterly incapable,” he sneered.
Draco stifled the revulsion he felt at hearing his father’s twisted tones come from his mother’s mouth. To say that the voice just didn’t fit was an extraordinary understatement. Yet Draco decided to play along. Lucius’s bizarre appearance was not part of the plan and he knew that everything now hinged on how he would respond.
“My bride?” he answered calmly.
“You will give that ring to your bride momentarily, in fact. We expect her here very soon,” Lucius bellowed.
Draco again looked down at the ring.
“What kind of ring is this?” he asked, as though he was simply curious about a new kind of magical object. His father observed him closely before answering.
“That ring is an Annulus Aeternus. Do you know what that means?” Lucius replied in a sinister tone.
Draco gulped. He knew exactly what that meant. With clarity, he recalled Professor Binns discussing the Annulus Aeternus back in his History of Magic class at Hogwarts. The rings were common enough among the wizarding nobility back in the Middle Ages. Once the ring was given between lovers, the two were bound by something far more powerful than marital vows alone. Though they usually staid within families, passed down as heirlooms from one generation to the next, Draco had been unaware though ultimately not surprised that the Malfoy line had one.
“And who is to be my bride?” Draco asked, his eyes never leaving the beautiful ring.
“Why, Draco, I thought you’d never ask,” came a sickeningly sweet voice from the doorway.
Draco swung his head around so fast that he might have snapped his own neck. There standing at the entrance to the library was Pansy Parkinson.
He staunchly kept his face neutral as she sauntered into the room. With something not unlike morbid fascination, he watched his father’s strong movements as filtered through his mother’s delicate body. Lucius stood, in all the elegant glory of Narcissa, and with quick strides crossed to Parkinson. Rather dramatically, he took her hand in his own tiny bejeweled one, and kissed it. Draco could not pry his eyes away from the oddity of his mother’s lips and tongue as they lingered on the girl’s outstretched hand. A tiny gasp from Parkinson revealed her own distaste at the spectacle.
“Good evening, my dear,” Lucius drawled. “Please come in and join us. We were just discussing your happy future.” He possessively wrapped one of Narcissa’s stylishly clad arms around the girl’s waist, pulling her into the room. He gestured for her to sit on the couch while he returned to lie on the chaise lounge.
“Good evening, Pansy,” Draco said in a hard clipped voice, revealing none of the rage that boiled within him.
“Draco,” she simpered.
“Manners, Draco, dear,” came his mother’s voice suddenly. “Fix your fiancé a drink,” she admonished. Draco stood, the little box still in his hands. With his back to the two women, he deftly removed the ring from the box, closed the lid, and returned the box to the mantle. He walked to desk and uncorked the deep red port that he knew the girl favored. Quickly, he pocketed the ring and poured the drink. With the practiced ease of a host, he offered her the drink and then reclaimed his seat opposite to his mother.
“Now ladies,” he began, as Narcissa still seemed to be herself, “why do I get the feeling that I am the last to know something here?” he asked in calculatedly innocent and sexy voice.
“Draco,” Pansy breathed.
Draco regarded his former Slytherin schoolmate. For as long as he had known the girl, she had been quite taken with him. Once, years and years ago, he had thought of her as a friend. But that had quickly changed during their later Hogwarts years as she had dogmatically pursued him. Whatever respect had ever been there was long since gone. Only recently he had thought her too stupid to be a Death Eater. Now as he looked at her, he noted the fierceness of her gaze and ferocity of her demeanor. He had underestimated her and that had put Louisa and Hermione in danger. He hoped that he finally had the measure of her. His plan depended on it.
Lucius’s hollow laughter interrupted Pansy’s enraptured gazing and Draco’s thoughts.
“How right you are, Draco. Tonight, not only do you claim your bride but also we finish our noble Lord’s work. Tonight, we resurrect the Dark Lord,” Lucius intoned.
No one spoke at his pronouncement.
“Draco, the Dark Lord has always known your heart. You were not made a Death Eater because He ordained another path for you. And you have done well to raise the child. You have kept her safe. You have even loved her,” he spat, as though to love someone was far more dangerous and loathsome that merely being a Death Eater.
“Very soon, you will complete your mission. You will bring the child to me. We will drain the Mudblood and Lord Voldemort will embody the child. You and your bride will sit at His throne and revel in your duties to raise and protect the Dark Lord.”
“And what happens to Louisa?” Draco replied, again displaying none of the inner anguish that he felt at his father’s words.
“Interesting question, Draco. And one that the Dark Lord could not fully answer. He predicted that He would rise in her- that He would replace her. Indeed, His powers are stored within her already,” Lucius paused, a note of curiosity evident in his own voice. “And yet, He was unsure what of the child would remain- would He continue to be a child? A girl?” Lucius laughed. “That is why the two of you were chosen long ago as the protectors of the resurrected Lord.”
“Long ago? Both of us?” Draco asked.
“It was Pansy here who collected the blood of that insufferable Granger girl. It was Pansy who found her again and brought her to me. She has already done her part for tonight’s ritual. You have only to give her the ring and produce the child, Draco,” Lucius retorted.
Draco looked over at Pansy, once again aware of how much his underestimation of her had already cost him. He looked back at Lucius. He was thinking fast now, desperately trying to modify his plan with all the new information.
“And what if I don’t want to participate, Father?” he asked smugly.
Lucius sat up quickly, Narcissa’s curls shaking in his barely contained rage.
“What is this treachery? You will bring the child to me! You will marry this woman!” he yelled.
Draco looked back at his father. He took a deep breath.
“You will never have Louisa. And I will not marry Pansy. You must kill me first,” Draco stated.
Flecks of spittle were flying out of Narcissa’s perfectly made-up mouth as Lucius’s anger threatened to turn her lily white complexion an obnoxious shade of purple. Draco smiled menacingly at the site.
Without warning, Pansy stood, her wand pointed at Draco. With no hesitation whatsoever, she yelled, “Petrificus Totalus!”
Draco went stiff immediately and felt himself slide unceremoniously out of the chair. He hit the floor with a loud thump. Pansy stood over him, her eyes blazing furiously.
“You think I’m not prepared for this, my love?” she shrieked. “You think me stupid?”
With lightening fast movements, she whipped out a knife and a small glass vial. She knelt at his side and raised the sleeve of his robe. If he hadn’t been frozen in place, Draco would have shuddered at what he knew was coming. He mentally braced himself for the merciless stab of her knife. But it didn’t come.
Almost tenderly, she made the shallowest of cuts on his forearm. Lovingly, she stroked and squeezed his arm, gently pumping blood out of the cut and into the vial. He looked into her eyes and was surprised to see raw emotion in them. She seemed genuinely sorry to be hurting him. When she filled the vial, she pointed her wand at his cut and whispered a healing charm. Draco felt the cut immediately close.
“Now, my love. I will bring your daughter here. And you will see that the three of us belong together. You are mine,” she said, gently breathing into his ear.
“I know you will soon see reason, Draco. But I will not risk you upsetting our plans. I think you need to learn a lesson- you need to learn to appreciate me, my blood, and what I will do for us to be together,” she said, tears now filling up her black eyes.
Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Pansy help Narcissa stand up. Then she crossed over to the mantle and pocketed the red box. Finally she returned to him, a small smile playing around her lips. With her wand once more aimed at him, he heard her say another spell just before darkness took him.
---------------------------------
Hermione had long since stopped crying. She knew that they’d be coming for her before long. If she was going to do this, she had to do it soon. She felt around in the darkness for the scraps leftover from her meal. Her fingers gripped the soothing coolness of the empty glass flask. Quickly, before she could lose her nerve, she broke the flask against the stone wall. Feeling around in the darkness among the shards, she chose a large sharp piece of glass. She took a deep breath and allowed herself a few more minutes of quiet contemplation of her life and the people she loved.
Truly, she felt as though she’d been blessed. She had loving parents who had given her a wonderful childhood. She remembered the day she’d first received her Hogwarts letter- the day she finally realized that she was a witch. She thought of all of the incredible times that she’d had with her best friends- and she thought of them individually, Harry- his tenderness and courage and his brilliant green eyes, Ron- his fierce loyalty, his friendly face, and that he had been the first boy she had ever kissed, and Ginny- her cleverness and good nature, and that she was the best female friend Hermione had ever had. Flashes of other important people and events passed through her mind’s eye- Dumbledore, her friends Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, giving the Valedictorian speech at her Hogwarts graduation, helping Neville in Potions, watching Sirius fall through the Veil, the first time that she saw the Thestrals, and even her precious cat, Crookshanks.
Then Draco and Louisa came into the picture. She had no more tears to cry but the ache in her chest threatened to consume her. She loved those two with all of her heart. She thought of the kiss that she shared with Draco- she could practically feel his lips pressing on hers again and the way his breath had warmed her skin. She thought of holding him in her arms, comforting him after Louisa’s disappearance and then again in the kitchen of the Order Headquarters. And then Louisa- her daughter. Her precious daughter! With perfect clarity, she pictured the girl’s toothy grin, unruly chestnut curls, and piercing gray eyes- so like her father’s.
Noises outside the dungeon interrupted her reverie. Quickly, she swept the chards of glass to the wall with her foot. She tried to cover the broken glass with the paper wrappings of her sandwich as best she could in the inky darkness. She moved several feet away from the mess and sat on the floor. She hoped that she had not missed her opportunity to protect her daughter.
The door flew open. In the bright light, Hermione could just make out a large floating object. Then she heard rather than saw Pansy Parkinson.
“This will give you some time to think. And I daresay your company will help you reassess your priorities, Draco!” she yelled shrilly. With that, the object fell to the ground in a heap. Pansy closed the door and Hermione was once again pitched into darkness.
Draco! she thought. She ran over to where she thought the body might be laying. She knelt on her knees and cautiously crawled towards the raspy breathing. Using her hands as feelers, she finally found the soft folds of material.
“Draco?” she whispered. With her hands, she quickly surveyed the body for any damage. When her hands found the face, she let go of the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Her fingers grazed over the high cheekbones, the strong pointed chin, the thick soft eyelashes, the refined nose that was now slightly crooked after one too many encounters with bludgers, and the full lips. She knew this face. Her hands then trailed up to soft locks of hair.
“Draco, wake up!” she called. She heard his breathing pattern begin to change. He coughed and she felt his face, still between her hands, come back to life.
“Hermione?” he wheezed.
“It’s me. I’m here. Are you okay?” she said too quickly. She helped him up into a sitting position.
“Oh, Hermione. Hermione, Hermione…” he moaned. He leaned into her embrace and she held him tightly for several long minutes.
Gently, he pulled away. He was still very close, though. She could feel his breath on her face.
“Hermione.”
With his hands, he cupped her face, tilting it towards his own. He leaned in and pressed his lips on hers. She gasped and parted her lips, her own tongue seeking his. The kiss deepened. She pressed her body against his and he pulled her down on top of him, never breaking their kiss. She moaned as her hands gripped his shoulders and then slid around his neck.
“Draco,” she breathed. “Do you know what we have to do?” Her hands were tugging off his outer robes.
“Yes,” came the husky reply. With trembling fingers, he pulled off her shirt. His hands wandered against her skin.
“We have very little time,” she answered, her mouth back on his own.
Softly, he rolled her underneath him.
“I know,” he paused. “But I have to ask you something first.” He reached into the pocket of his now discarded robes. Finding the ring and then her hand, he stopped.
“This is an Annulus Aeternus. You know what that is,” he paused again, feeling her nod her head beneath him.
“Hermione Granger, will you marry me?”
“Yes.”
He slid the ring on her finger and leaned down to give his bride a long passionate kiss.
“I love you,” she said simply.
“I love you, too,” he replied.
They renewed their lovemaking completely unaware of the growing light between their two bodies.
----------------------------------
Louisa looked up into the twinkling blue eyes of Dumbledore.
“They’ve found each other,” she said. Dumbledore sighed.
“Then we must hope that everything else goes according to the plan,” he answered.
A/N:
annulus “ Latin for “ring”
aeternus - Latin for “everlasting or eternal”
from University of Notre Dame Latin-English Grammar Guide. Found at http://www.nd.edu/~archives/latgramm.htm