Chapter Text

1

The first thing Hermione heard was one of the lesser Death Eaters running up the Dungeon steps yelling about their escaped prisoners. Hermione felt a moment of relief and then the fear crashed around her. Harry and Ron had left her to be tortured further in Malfoy Manor. Tears streamed down her face as she realized that they had left her to die. She understood that Harry needed to live; He needed to defeat Voldemort. She really did. That didn’t stop the feeling of abandonment that flooded her.

Bellatrix stood, leaving Hermione’s prone form on the floor of the drawing room to go search the dungeons herself with fear-filled eyes. Voldemort had already been summoned and that meant they would all pay if Potter had truly escaped. Hermione could hear the shrill panic in Bellatrix’s voice as she ran down the stairs to the dungeons. Hermione laid still, waiting for it all to end - waiting for someone to notice her. Hoping and praying that it wouldn’t be Greyback, Hermione tried to melt into the floor. She covertly tried to move but when her body didn’t respond, she closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to see what was coming.

Hermione flinched as she felt strong hands gently lift her into a strong firm chest. At first, she panicked thinking that her time was at an end. The man was careful though, moving her smoothly so that her battered body wouldn’t be jostled more than necessary. Not caring who was offering this kindness, she buried her face in the spicy smelling robes. His arms pulled her closer and she felt safe for the first time in months. She tried to tell herself that whoever had her, most likely wanted something from her and she should be on her guard. Her brain wanted to be scared but her body melted into the embrace.

“Lucius, in here!” A feminine voice whispered urgently. Hermione looked up at her savior, staring in shock as Mr. Malfoy cradled her to his chest. He looked rough as if he had been on the business end of Bellatrix’s wand more than once. Carrying her effortlessly, he walked purposefully into the room his wife bid. She shut the door securely behind them.

“Can you stand, Miss Granger?” Lucius asked.

“I don’t know.” She whispered.

“Try.” Narcissa pled, smoothing a hand over Hermione’s curls. Lucius and Narcissa looked at each other in worry.

Lucius put her feet on the ground, holding onto her waist to keep her steady. Hermione nodded as she held herself erect.

“Good girl.” Lucius murmured before he let her go.

Draco walked up behind her and silently took his father’s place, supporting her so that she wouldn’t fall.

“It’s okay Granger. We’ve got you.” He muttered, his strong arms wrapped around her body.

It was surreal, feeling safety with the Malfoy’s. Lucius walked in front of her and held up Hufflepuff’s cup so that she could see it.

“Do you know what this is?” He asked. She refused to answer. Saying anything could ruin everything. Lucius put his hand on her shoulder.

“She definitely knows.” Draco whispered. Her throat tightened with anxiety. She would die before betraying Harry, even if Lucius smelt good and Draco wasn’t being a complete arse.

“Can you destroy it?” Lucius asked urgently, his steely grey eyes meeting and holding her amber ones. She was shocked, wondering how this would betray the cause but going out on a limb, gave a small sharp nod. He smiled at her before looking at the door, his lips pulled into a frown. They could hear Bellatrix stomping around the house.

“We don’t have much time.” Draco murmured, his body surrounding hers as he leaned in so that his parents could hear him over her shoulder.

Narcissa pulled Hermione out of their grip and put her beaded bag around her neck and arm.

“I had the house elves put some food in here.” Narcissa whispered. Hermione watched Lucius as he put the cup into her bag. “I don’t think I will get much more use out of this,” Narcissa wrapped Hermione’s fingers around her wand.  “Draco will lead you out of here. Please, don’t let the Dark Lord win.” Tears burned in Hermione’s eyes as she realized that the Malfoy’s were protecting her, helping her escape.

“But I am Muggleborn.” Hermione told them confusedly.

“And we will be dead soon and the Malfoy family with fade in the way of the Black’s. I am sorry, Miss Granger. I can’t ever make it up to you, the way I treated you but I can protect you long enough for you to get out. Help Potter save the world.” Lucius whispered. To Hermione’s complete shock, he pulled her into his chest and kissed her forehead. His large hand smoothed down her spine, stroking her as if she were a nervous filly. Once he let her go, he stepped back and was quickly replaced by Narcissa. She wrapped her long thin arms around Hermione’s shoulders. Her trembling fingers absently smoothing her curls.

“Let the last thing we do be for the betterment of wizard kind.” Narcissa said as she kissed her temple in the same place as her husband. It was curious the way they were treating her, as if she were a beloved family member. Hermione would have to think about it later.

Draco threaded his hands with hers and tugged her to the large floo in the back. He looked back at his parents for a moment, fear flooding his face before he slid an emotionless mask in its place.

“Andrex Cottage.” He said as he tossed floo powder in before pushing Hermione through.

“Good luck, son.” Lucius’s quiet voice broke as he studied his son’s face for what would probably be the last time.

Not trusting himself to speak, Draco nodded his head at the both of them. His parents were sacrificing their lives so that Draco and Hermione could get out. Draco knew that it was a long shot for him to survive by running away but staying was certain death. He tossed in the floo powder before stepping into the emerald flames, looking into the melancholy face of his mother once more before calling out his destination. If this was to mean his death, he hoped that his father was right about the outcome. They now put all of their hopes into one tiny Gryffindor lioness.

Draco Malfoy met Hermione’s wild eyes as she waited for him. He smirked at her, a weak imitation of what it once was.

“Where are we?” She asked.

“This is a small cottage at the edge of the property. It was gift from my grandfather to my grandmother when they were alive. It has been useful to smuggle things in and out under the Dark Lord’s nose.” He muttered. “Let’s go. He is already at the house.” His jaw was clenched, fear in his eyes.

He grabbed her hand, pulled her out of the cottage behind him and set a brutal pace, running full out for the forest with their hands still connected.

“Once you get past the first row of Birch trees, apparate. They are the boundary of the property; the wards end there.”

Hermione’s scream caught in her throat as Voldemort appeared to their left, his wand leveled at them. Draco pushed Hermione out of the way, helping her dodge spells as they ran. Untangling his hand from hers, Hermione began to panic once more.

“Disarm me! Quickly!” He said to Hermione. She acted on instinct, too used to making on the fly decisions. She knew that he was a dead man without his wand but if he wanted her to disarm him, there must be a good reason.

“Expelliarmus.” She muttered, catching his wand in midair.

“Good Luck Granger!” He said grimly as he stopped and turned around. He held his hands up, palm out, wrapping the family wards around his body wandlessly.

Hermione kept running, instinct screaming at her to turn around and help but she couldn’t. It was as if her body was compelled to keep running. Tears streamed down her face as she realized what he was doing for her. He was giving her enough time to escape so that she could destroy the cup at all costs, no matter the sacrifice. She looked back only once to see Draco crumple to the ground, dead. She was held spellbound for a moment in the red flashing eyes of Voldemort before twisting away into the tight tube of apparition. She was free.

She stood shuddering, her arms wrapped around her body for warmth and comfort. The Malfoy’s had died for her so that she could escape with the cup. All three of them protected her instead of running. She owed them a life debt that she had no idea how to repay. Why would they do that? Why did they act like she was important to them? It was very confusing.

She dug in her bag for the galleon that she had charmed in her fifth year for the DA. This was the Trio’s contingency if they ever got separated but she had changed hers so that only Harry and Ron’s would respond. It wasn’t long before they showed up, hope and wariness set on their faces.

Their wands were wisely raised, pointed at her. They were smart to believe they could be entering into a trap but when they saw Hermione standing alone and battered, they ran to her, wrapping her in their arms.

“We tried coming back for you, ‘Mione! The wards were too tightly set to penetrate. We thought that we lost you!” Harry said. “How did you escape?”

“The Malfoy’s saved me. They died so that I could escape with the cup.” She sniffled.

“They died?” Ron asked in disbelief. “The cup, the Horcrux?”

“Yes, the Horcrux! Mr. Malfoy put it in my bag before they smuggled me out. You-know-who killed them. They gave me their wands.”

“They who?” Harry asked, eyes bright with excitement.

“Narcissa put hers into my hands and I disarmed Malfoy.”

“Well done!” Ron said smiling.

“If they were helping you why did you disarm him?” Harry had a grim look on his face.

“He told me to. You-know-who caught up to us right before we crossed the wards. Malfoy met him wandlessly so that I could escape. I had just enough time.”

“Let’s go to Bills.” Harry said looking around suspiciously.

Ron leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Bill Weasley lives at Shell Cottage.”

With a sickening squeeze, the Trio stood just inside the wards around Shell Cottage. The moment Hermione realized she was safe, great wracking sobs tore from her body and her legs began to shake, unable to support her body. She fell to her knees, her face buried in her hands. The day was catching up to her. The fear of capture, the torture, the abandonment, the unexpected help, and their subsequent deaths crashed around her, making her grief more profound. How could she repay them if they were dead?

She felt strong arms lift her for the second time that day. She looked up at Bill’s scarred face and a sob stuck in her throat. For one breathless, irrational moment, she thought it was him.

**HGHG**

Two years later

The Trio looked at each other grimly and knew that this was the end. They had traced the diadem to Albania and back. War had permeated everything and the world was overcast with a grey pall. Its inhabitants bowed under the burden of the new order. The ministry and Hogwarts were both under Voldemort’s control, leaving no safe haven left. The Muggleborns were close to being wiped out and the Trio had even begun suspecting that the new Muggleborn babies that appeared on the magical register were hunted down and killed in their cots. Why else would SIDs be on the rise? It was no coincidence.

Hogwarts was the last place they should go but was the very place they needed to infiltrate. The likelihood of any of them surviving the night was slim but they didn’t waiver in their determination. They needed the last Horcrux, the diadem which was hidden in the room of requirement.

A small resistance group led by former DA members had beheaded Nagini only the week before. It had lifted the spirit of the resistance until Voldemort delivered swift retribution. Every captured male that was held in Azkaban was killed. Twelve of their peers died that day. Still, it left only one more Horcrux to destroy.

Harry explained to Hermione and Ron that he remembered using the diadem to mark the place where he hid Snape’s old potion’s text in sixth year. The only problem appeared to be how they were going to get in. Hogsmeade was on permanent lockdown, the hidden passages were being patrolled by various Death Eaters. Only one was conspicuously left open. They spent days watching It, spending their time in shifts, using the Hogs Head as their base of operation. They determined after a week of spying that Snape either didn’t know about the hidden entrance or he left it wide open on purpose to trap them. Either way it was their only chance and they had no other choice but to take it. Harry hid under his cloak and Hermione disillusioned both Ron and herself. With a hushed anxiety, they walked the streets of the miasmic town.

Silencing charms adorned their feet, which allowed them to walk unhindered into Honeydukes with the next customer. Once the shop was cleared for the night and the proprietor left, the Trio snuck down into the storeroom. Thankfulness and relief fell from their lips when they found the passageway unsealed. They slipped into the tunnel, wands held aloft and ready for a fight. Seeing nothing but cobwebs, they crept along the abandoned corridor. It took them longer than they remembered to reach the one-eyed witch. Hopefully, the passageway was just unknown. Hermione wasn’t as relieved as the boys. She had a horrible feeling about it but kept her own council. It wasn’t like they had any other options.

They crept through the silent castle and released their collective breaths of relief only when they entered the Room of Requirement. The room of hidden things seemed even more massive now than it ever had before. Having already studied Harry’s memory of the day he hid the book, they split up and searched up and down the different rows, desperately hoping that Voldemort had left his final Horcrux alone.

Hermione heard a triumphant shout from Harry. The first genuine smile overtook her face since the Malfoy’s had died. She sprinted down the row, retracing her steps. They met at the door and looked at the piece of history that Voldemort ruined. With twisted lips, Hermione looked at Rowena Ravenclaw’s defaced diadem.

Hermione reached into her bag and grabbed the Sword of Gryffindor before handing it to Harry. Their eyes met. This was it, the last fragment of Voldemort’s mutilated soul. It was the last stop before facing the man himself. Hermione was filled with apprehension. The hardest part was to come. She wasn’t sure if Harry was ready or if he ever would be. A small part of her wondered if this was the end for the three of them. Morbidly, Hermione wondered how it would feel to die. Would it hurt? Would Voldemort play with them before allowing their deaths? She loved Harry but didn’t have very high hopes of winning at this point. What else could they do but trudge on? They couldn’t stop, now that they were so close to the end.

Harry swung the sword and hit the Horcrux perfectly. It screamed and melted into a mangled hunk of scrap and they let out the deep breaths they were holding. Hermione’s face pinched in fear. She half expected to hear Voldemort’s rage despite knowing he couldn’t feel the piece of his soul dying.

“Now we need to get out of here and strategize. Our best chance to win would be to fight on our turf, not his. We need as much of an advantage as possible.” Harry said. They nodded. This was something that they already discussed and agreed on. They needed to get out of the school as fast as possible.

Once again, they were disillusioned or hidden under the cloak as they left the room. Things were looking pretty good. They hadn’t met a single person in their time sneaking through Hogwarts. The ease should have clued them into one of two scenarios. Either they had inside help or they were being led into a trap. Later, Hermione would decide that it was a bit of both.

As they turned the last corner to the one-eyed witch, they came face to face with Voldemort himself. Several ranks of Death Eaters flowed behind the Trio, surrounding them in the hall.

With a wave of his wand, Hermione and Ron lost their invisibility, baring them to their enemies. They stood proud and fierce, already mentally prepared to die. Harry was still under the cloak. Hermione hoped that he would take the opportunity to leave if he could.

With another wave of his wand, Voldemort tried to disarm them. Hermione blocked his attempt but Ron wasn’t as lucky. His wand sailed through the air, landing in the open palm of their greatest enemy.

“It’s such a shame that you are a blood traitor. I do hate the waste of killing one of such pure blood.” Voldemort rasped inspecting the wand he now held in his palm.

Hermione clenched her teeth and made to move in front of her friend.

“But it is you who I regret the most.” Voldemort continued, staring at Hermione. “I even thought about forging documents to change your blood status, little Mudblood. If I could have your brain and talents at my disposal…” He paused, savoring the thought of her betraying Harry. “Even some of my followers have expressed interest to have you, for my most treasured followers to overlook your unfortunate birth is quite a compliment. Wouldn’t you say? Will you join us?”

“Hermione would never join you.” Ron spat. Hermione would have rolled her eyes to the ceiling at Ron speaking on her behalf but she kept herself in check. She needed to keep an eye on the wands surrounding them and make sure Harry got out.

Laughter filled the corridor.

“She would under the right circumstances.” Voldemort said confidently.

At that moment, Harry covered Hermione with the cloak, coming face to face with Voldemort.  He pushed her to the hidden passageway. She stumbled. No way in hell was she leaving them but the choice was taken out of her hands as Snape grabbed her and forced her through the hump of the one-eyed witch. The last thing she saw before descending was Harry’s body hitting the floor moments before Ron’s. Tears coursed silently down her cheeks as she flew down the hidden passageway.

She ran the whole way back to Honeydukes. Not caring that it was night or that someone would see the shop door open seemingly of its own accord, she ran through the streets setting off the caterwauling charm and left the wards moments before dementors found her. She apparated back to their base camp alone and hopeless. Everyone who protected her, died. The Malfoy’s, Harry, Ron and many, many others.

She stayed in camp for three days hoping that the boys weren’t actually dead, that somehow, they would come back to her. When they didn’t, she began to think of ways to get them back. Over the years, she had heard whispers that a time turner was owned by the Malfoy family and that it was never recovered after their deaths. If they had one and it hadn’t already been found by their master, the best place to search was the Manor. Now that the owners were dead, the place had been abandoned, Voldemort instead made Hogwarts his base. A grotesque militant school that was a Death Eater training ground.

Deciding that she had nothing to lose by searching the Manor, she resolved to go first thing in the morning. The longer it took her to find the time turner, the less likely she would be able to fix anything. She felt the weight of time passing, a ticking clock hanging over her head.

She woke up bright and early the next day and tore down the wards, packing all of their things into her beaded bag. Knowing that if she was successful, they would need it all again very soon. She apparated to the same copse of birch trees that she fled from two years prior.

Draco’s death flashed through her mind. She dwelled on the specific point in her memory that he crumpled to the ground, his wand had dug into her palm as she clenched it. Her mind conjured the sensory input of that moment and it was imprinted on her mind, branded there as if it was happing again in front of her very eyes. Her breath was stilted and constrained as she tried to focus herself back on the task at hand. She couldn’t afford to lose her wits now.

 For a moment, she wondered if she would be able to apparate directly into the house with the entire Malfoy family decimated but decided not to take the risk. Carefully she walked to the Manor, keeping an eye out for anything unusual. Memories coursed over her again. An anxious fearful family that didn’t have to help her but did anyway. The soft soothing hands of Narcissa, the masculine strength of Lucius, and the protective sacrifice of Draco. She had never for one moment forgot that they were the only reason she survived that day. Harry, Ron, and her had saved each other so many times but it wasn’t the same. They were family. She felt the choking stranglehold of the life debt that she now owed Snape. Two life debts that she had no idea how to repay. One, because the owners of it were all dead and the other because he was so firmly planted behind enemy lines.

The Manor was dark and smelled strongly of decay. She wrinkled her nose and began the arduous task of searching room to room. Most of the chambers had been ransacked, the priceless heirlooms stolen or given away as prizes.

It saddened her to a small degree. Not that she especially liked the Manor but it was the Malfoy’s and she now held them in high regard. When she found Lucius’ study she smiled with satisfaction. It was somber with heavy wooden furniture, dark drapes, and his lingering smell, even after all of these years. She rummaged through the drawers and all of the nooks and crannies. It wasn’t here. Hermione was sure that this would be the one place they would hide something so valuable. Wouldn’t it be kept where Lucius could keep a close eye on it? She left the room a little lost. Where should she look next? Her head snapped up. The library.

It took her twenty minutes to find it but find it she did. She felt like Belle from Beauty and the Beast. She gasped as she walked through the double doors. This library was one of the most incredible places that she had ever seen. The shelves towered to the ceiling, where hundreds of thousands of magical texts resided. Her inner swot danced with excitement, her stomach clenching with regret. If she had known Malfoy had this in his home, she might have been nicer to him in school. Then again, maybe not. She thought wrinkling her nose. He was prick in school.

She looked around at the books. One of them caught her attention right away. It was bound in blue leather with gold scrolling embossed on the spine. It caught her attention because it was the only thing in the whole building that was gleaming, devoid of even a speck of dirt. It drew her like a moth to flame. She was held spell bound as she eased the heavy tome off the shelf and into her arms. She looked in the space it left, hoping just this once that it would be easy and the time turner would be there for her to find. She put a lid on her disappointment once she realized the space had only held the book that she was now clutching in her hands. Gently, she switched her hold on the book, turning it over and looking at the beautiful ornate cover.

She took it to the large window seat, needing the minimal amount of light the dirty windows had been able to filter through. She put the book in her lap and let it fall open, hoping it would give her a clue of why it was the only book without dust. She leaned in over the pages that had been referenced many times, if the wear on the pages were any indication.

Constituendum dynastia

This spell will only work once per wizard in his lifetime. Resurrecting the dead in their intended forms is tricky and can only be done if the caster has pure intentions. For a wizard to be able to summon the people he needs the most from the dead, he must first have a close relationship with the house he attempts to resurrect. The more powerful the wizard, the more witches he would be able to bring back. The record for most resurrected witches went to Sebastian Gaunt who resurrected seven of his wife’s dead family members. They had been lost to the great goblin wars and Gretta Fawley Gaunt was the last of her line.

Hermione looked out the window with calm reflection. Harry and Ron were both the last of their families to die. Could she bring back wizards who weren’t technically blood relatives? If so, maybe she could bring back Dumbledore too! If she could only choose one house to resurrect, who would she chose? Could she even choose?

She faced the book once more and turned the page searching for the spell. Once she located it, she spent the next two days memorizing the ceremony.

It was with the rising dawn that Hermione found herself back in the library preparing the spell for casting. It was the most complicated and intricate piece of work that she had ever encountered and was excited to begin. Continually she had to push down the niggling feeling of unease that tried to surge up and drown her but she was nothing if not persistent. This was how she intended on bringing Harry back.

With a giddy energy, she finally set the last rune in a circle reinforced with magic that had been detailed in the book. Some of the spell work she already knew. Some of them she could guess at their function but the majority was too advanced for her. Perhaps if she had enough time to study them properly she would know but she didn’t dare wait. She still felt the weight of time hanging over her like a guillotine. So, without fully understanding the complicated magic that surrounded her, she began to chant the spells in the order she memorized them.

The runic circle glowed and time slowed to a standstill, the ticking clock paused in its perpetual motion. She picked up the small silver knife that she had imbued with runes in preparation and sliced her hand. She watched as her blood flowed quickly, dripping into the stone basin. Once she collected enough, she wrapped a bandage around it. The book had warned her not to try using any magic while the circle was activated. She didn’t dare deviate. Moving on, she added the required ingredients in the order the book specified. It was exact and she was careful, going as slow as she needed.

As she added the final ingredient, the Manor began to shake. Books fell around her as the circle held, keeping the space protected from outside interference. Hermione bit her lip. It was just a matter of waiting now. The completed potion flashed a white blue light that permeated her chosen perimeter. Hermione looked up as the first man materialized in front of her. He was tall with white blond hair and grey eyes. Obviously, a Malfoy. He was stockier than Lucius and shorter too. His hair was a little longer than chin length and it was gathered into a que at the nape of his neck. He smiled at her, his eyes wandering down her kneeling body. He looked to be the same age as Lucius. A relative perhaps?

He stepped aside as another came through the light. This man was wearing the long black tailored robes of Lucius Malfoy, looking not a day older than the day he died for her. She smiled, happy to see him, even if she was confused. She had not even thought about bringing the Malfoy’s back.

“Good girl.” He muttered in approval. His smirk teased her with his smug ‘I knew this would happen all along’ look. He leaned over and cupped her cheek, beaming at her with admiration.

She turned her head away as Draco Malfoy stepped through. The look of surprise forcing a chuckle out of Lucius. He dropped his hand and moved back, allowing Draco room to see Hermione.

“Bloody hell Granger, always the over achiever, aren’t you? Father is going to sing I told you so until the end of time. We will never be able to live with him now.” He snarked before walking up to her and ran his hand over her hair, smoothing it back from her face. She was shocked at the tender gesture, half expecting that he would call her Mudblood despite the fact that he had died for her previously.

“Thank you.” He murmured just loud enough for her to hear. He pulled her body against his legs in to a quick awkward hug, before stepping back as the runic circle shuddered with its release of the second between time. The clock began to tick once more and the power of the circle diminished quickly, flickering out. The books that landed on top of the magical enclosure, crashed to the floor around them. Once the dust settled there was only one thing in the fore front of her mind. She was alone in the ruined library with three Malfoy men who were looking at her in the same way a hungry wolf would track his prey.

It made her nervous. As happy as she was to see them alive again, she was mildly disappointed that she didn’t also pull Harry and Ron. She accepted that she didn’t get to choose and knew that she would mourn for them, and soon. Maybe they could gift her with that hidden time turner. She watched them, her eyes flicking to one then another unable to help herself from staring, for once without anything to say.

“What the hell happened to this place. It looks like shite.” The unidentified Malfoy said as he looked around.

“Now Father, we have no idea what year it is or what happened. We can fix this in time.” Lucius said while watching Draco as he offered Hermione his hand. She took it with an absent smile and he pulled her up, her body hauled close. She was staring at his chest and could tell that the son cut a similar figure as the father. When did Draco get a body like this? She wondered as she gulped. Perhaps she was out of her depth. It was hard to concentrate being so close to Malfoy, so she turned around and walked up to the third Malfoy.

“I’m Hermione Granger.” She said holding out her hand.

“Abraxas, Love, the Paterfamilias. What happened to our ancestral home?” Abraxas asked, sliding into a flirty smile. The breath caught in Hermione’s throat, her hand was immediately smothered in his larger ones as he brought her knuckles to his lips. She was definitely out of her depth. She had little to no experience with this type of flirting.

“After I escaped and You-Know-Who murdered Draco, I heard he left this place and let his other Death Eaters loot. No one has been in here for at least a year. It has been a little over two years since you died.” Hermione said looking at Draco.

“Why are you here, Love?” Abraxas had moved closer slowly, the backs of his fingers brushing her skin as he slid them down her arm.

“There was a rumor that the Malfoy’s had hidden a time turner. I was searching for it. I needed to bring back Harry and Ron, they died almost a week ago.” She looked up at Lucius as she attempted to brush Abraxas’ hands off of her. “I thought maybe this spell would bring them back.”

“Why, were they of the same house?” Abraxas was getting rather handsy and Lucius and Draco only watched with amused tolerance. He moved into her space, surrounding her with his overwhelming presence.

“As good as.”

“Well then it wouldn’t have worked. The title of the spell really tells it all. Didn’t you translate it?”

“No, I was in a hurry and the rest was in English.”

“It is the spell to establish a dynasty with a fallen house. Singular.”

“But the book said a wizard brought back seven of his wife’s relatives.”

“Gaunt. Yes, he married them all.”

“No.”

“Oh yes, Love.” Abraxas lifted his hand and laced his fingers through her curly hair. She craned her neck back to look at him in the eye and he seemed only too pleased to help as he clenched his fist lightly and guided her head back. His intense stare pinned her in place.

“I take it the Dark Lord isn’t dead?” Lucius asked from somewhere behind Abraxas cutting in before the conversation could go any further.

“No.” She whispered feeling like a failure.

“Bloody fucking hell.” Draco swore. “I guess you didn’t predict everything, father.”

“We will just have to defeat him, won’t we, Love?” Abraxas said ignoring his grandson, his eyes smoldering, turning her insides to goop.

“At least we aren’t branded any longer.” Draco muttered into her hair as his finger traced her spine. Hermione could feel the heat of him on her back and Abraxas’ overwhelming presence commanding all of her attention in front of her.

“First things first, we must raise the wards around the Manor.” Lucius said.

“The second you do that, he will come.” Hermione muttered.

“Then let him come.” Abraxas leaned in, his hand still on her jaw, holding her in place. She could feel his breath on the side of her neck, tendrils tickled her with each puff of his warm breath. His lips were so close to her ear, she shivered. This was the most erotic thing she had ever experienced.

“Do you want me to tell you a secret, Love?” He purred.

“Ungh.” She groaned. She felt like she was going to explode, her knickers were undoubtedly ruined by now.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” His voice lowered, rasping seductively in her ear. “When we end this, they will never hurt you again and anyone who stands in my way will be absolutely obliterated.”

Abraxas released her and backed up, watching as her glazed eyes tried to focus. He chuckled, a low smooth sound, like silk against bare skin.

“That, Love, is a promise. The Malfoy’s always protect our own.”

Chapter Text

2

Hermione had watched the three Malfoy men erect the wards around their ancestral estate early the next morning. It was nothing short of awe inspiring. She could feel the ripple of the magic wash over her, surrounding her in a blanket of security. The way that the spells swirled around her made her smile. Vapor animals gamboled around them. In fact, these wards reminded her of a Patronus. It was a soothing balm to her raw emotions.

As the wards were raised, house elves began streaming back in. Where, once they had fled for their lives, they now sought the protection of the powerful re-emerging family. Hermione watched as they willingly bound themselves in servitude for the protection of a family. Perhaps at one time Hermione would have been angered at the injustice. Abraxas didn’t even offer them pay or vacation but he welcomed them, all three hundred or so that sought sanctuary.

“What are you going to do with all of them?” She asked Abraxas as he sat next to her in the newly refurbished dining room. The only room worth sitting in at the moment.

“Do? Whatever do you mean? They will care for the family and Manor as they are bound to do and we will provide them with the means and protections that being bound to a family affords.”

Lucius walked in perfectly coiffed as if he had never been dead, as if he never stopped wearing the most expensive and exquisitely tailored robes. He walked up behind her chair and leaned in, dropping a sweet kiss on her temple that made her stomach clench.

“Morning, Poppet.” He whispered in her ear before sauntering to his seat across from her.

“Good morning, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Call me, Lucius.”

“Lucius.”

“What are you planning on doing today, Father?” Lucius asked Abraxas as he spread his linen napkin across his lap.

“I am going to set the blood and kin wards around the perimeter of the Malfoy lands.” He said absently as Lucius nodded in approval.

“I am going to contact Gringotts and make sure they reopen the vaults.”

“Excellent! What are you going to do today, Hermione?” Abraxas asked.

“Look for the time turner. I still need to save Harry and Ron.”

“I am sorry, Love, we don’t have a time turner.”

Hermione looked pleadingly at Lucius hoping that he would contradict. He didn’t.

“Why don’t you go to the Prophecy room. There is a wall with your name on it.” Lucius winked.

“There are prophecies about me?”

“One.”

“Then why an entire wall?”

Abraxas and Lucius smirked, ignoring the question in favor of eating their breakfast. She eyed them suspiciously before eating the meal that a tiny house elf set in front of her. She turned to thank her but was surprised at how silently and quickly the elf disappeared.

Abraxas wiped his mouth and set his napkin to the side, his eyes focused on her. He walked around the table with a lithe grace that contradicted his body type. One man should be allowed to be so sexy. And she had three.

He leaned down so that his lips were at her ear.

“Well, Love, I’m off for the day. Are you going to send me on my way without a kiss?” He murmured. She took a deep breath, a dark red blush spreading over her skin. Abraxas chuckled and dropped a kiss on her neck, lightly sucking the skin. “Maybe next time.” He walked out of the house a spring in his step.

**HGHG**

Abraxas was on the south border, watching as their heard of unicorns disappeared back into the forest. The heard had lived on the property since the Malfoy’s took over the land. It was part of the agreement that they had made with the magical royalty of the time to always see to their care. When he was a boy, he would sit in this very spot and watch them as they milled around the stream. The young ones frolicking in the water as their elders grazed.

With a heavy sigh, he sat down on the grass in much the same way he did as a child. Hermione was probably starting to go through the memories set aside for her. He looked at the cloudless sky. He was so sure that he would be dead by the time she was brought into the family. At the time, he justified his actions by telling himself that he did what he did not only for the Malfoy family but her as well. He didn’t think it would matter if she hated him, if he was already dead. It was too late for regret. The contract was already in effect.

He plucked a blade of grass and twirled it in his fingers. She was not going to be pleased when she saw what he had done to secure her to their family. Not that he regretted it per se, more like he wished he had gone about things differently now. After all, he was going to be her husband. It wouldn’t do to start out with resentment. When she found out that he used her father’s ignorance of the wizarding world, things could go south for him. He was going to have to sweet talk her out of her anger. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

That brought a whole new level of headache producing thoughts. How was he going to share a wife with not only his son but his grandson as well? He tossed the shredded piece of grass and chuckled. Who would have guessed that they all would die before the contract could be fulfilled? It was a rotten piece of luck, that.

Last night after Hermione had barricaded herself in her room, Abraxas and Lucius sat in the study drinking a vintage bottle of cognac that had been hidden in a secret cupboard. The fire was roaring and Abraxas’ features were thrown into shadow, he swirled the cognac in his tumbler. He was brooding, staring at the dancing flames.

“What went wrong?” He asked Lucius.

“Draco died.”

“How could you let that happen?”

“I did everything I could. You brought that madman into our lives and not only that but you hid Hermione from me.”

“You got Narcissa pregnant, Son. It had nothing to do with me. Hermione wasn’t even born yet. I had everything ready and prepared. All you had to do was wait for her. That is on you. As for that madman,” Abraxas sighed. “that was a mistake. He was very persuasive at the time.”

“How could I have known about her? You didn’t bloody say anything other than I was already betrothed.”

“And you couldn’t even keep it in your pants. How is that possible after the way I raised you? All of the effort of countless generations of Malfoy’s, ruined. Having been told you were betrothed was not enough, you still managed to knock up the Black girl?”

“I was a stupid kid who was excited because she came on to me. She was beautiful and offered herself to me. I didn’t even think twice.”

“That is obvious.”

They sat silently for a few moments, both prickly and defensive.

“We can’t change it now.” Lucius said.

“You knew Hermione would resurrect the house, in fact, you counted on it. How?”

“It was a contingency in case Draco died. A bit of magic that was tied to Hermione, herself.”

“And he did die.”

“Yes.” Lucius agreed. He took a sip of his liqueur, his eyes never leaving his father’s.

“There can be no jealousy between us. That would make her run for the hills faster than anything.”

“That is not going to be easy. Malfoy’s by definition are possessive and high handed.”

Abraxas nodded. He knew full well.

“The three of us are going to have to be brutally honest with each other.”

“You mean the four of us.”

“Yes, well, our jealousies shouldn’t be aired in front of Hermione.”

“She will not like being kept in the dark.”

Abraxas waved away the concern. Not everything was about Hermione. If they wanted to keep the family intact they would have to work it out between themselves. The fire crackled and popped, the silence deafening in the lull of their conversation.

“Where is Draco?” Lucius asked.

“Sitting outside of her door. He doesn’t want to leave her unprotected.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the contract or for that matter, the prophecy before you died? I had to find out from the Goblin’s. That was not a pleasant surprise, let me tell you.”

“Draco came home that first year from Hogwarts. He liked her then, although he never admitted it. Not that he could have, with your pureblood mania.” Abraxas said. “I wanted to see if things could progress naturally. No need to force the issue if they fall for each other without interference.”

“My pureblood mania? Who the hell do you think I got it from Old Man?”

“Your mother. She was a piece of work, high maintenance too. She was a Selwyn before I married her and she was a harpy when angered. Never met a woman who could nag like your mother. Our marriage was not a happy one. She married me for my wealth and I married her because my father was terrifying and I was much too young to go against him.”

He trailed off into silence, having revealed nothing that Lucius hadn’t already figured out on his own. He knew his parents weren’t happy.

Abraxas came back to himself with a start. He looked around the hill that he was still sitting on and glanced around to detect the disturbance. He felt the wards pulse as they were being probed. He narrowed his eyes and apparated to the east side of the property, right in front of the gates.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” He asked. Two hooded Death Eaters stared at him in confusion. They were young, in their early twenties or late teens. They looked at him as if he asked them to delve into the meaning of life and magic. He waited. It was always better to wait and let the other person fill the awkward silence.

“Who are you?”

“I am the master of this property. Is there something I can help you with or are you just going to waste my time?”

“This is Malfoy Manor.”

“Well spotted.”

“All of the Malfoy’s are dead.”

“Are they now?”

The two Death Eaters nodded together like a pair of pigeons. Abraxas stared at them, making them fidget.

“You can’t be here.” One of them said.

“Well, possession is 9/10^ths of the law, so, I am going to have to respectfully disagree.”

“What do we do now?” One of them asked the other.

“What were you supposed to do if something was amiss?” Abraxas asked curiously.

“Take care of it.”

“Has the Dark Lord claimed ownership of this property?”

“No but he has the owner in custody.”

“Really? If the Malfoy’s are all dead as you say, then who claims ownership?”

“Narcissa Malfoy.”

“Why don’t you boys come inside and have something to eat.”

“That would be great, thanks!”

As they walked back to the Manor, Abraxas put on his biggest smile. The one he saved for the Wizengamot or the Minister of Magic when he wanted something.

“Who is your family?” He asked conversationally.

“I’m Vincent Crabbe and this is Greg Goyle.”

“Have you been in the Dark Lord’s service long?”

“Got our marks not long after Draco died. Once the Malfoy’s proved to be traitors, the Dark Lord pulled all of our generation in for insurance.”

Abraxas nodded.

“How did Narcissa survive?”

“He favors her, I think. She lives in his rooms. He shares her though, sometimes.”

“You don’t say. And where did you say they lived? Obviously, they aren’t using the Manor anymore.”

“Nah, once the Order fell, he moved into Hogwarts. He said it was more central to the fight.”

“I see.”

“Why are we heading towards the dungeons?” Goyle asked.

“I recently remodeled them, we keep the food down here, where it is cooler.”

“Makes sense.”

Abraxas led them through the winding tunnels until he came to a large, gleaming black door. Despite not being used for several years, the shine of the door was impressive. It was smooth and sleek. It had the look of obsidian, something that was very out of place for where they were currently.

“Through here boys and I will have the cook whip something up for you.”

They each took a step through the door, their voices turning high pitched as they screamed in horror. Abraxas walked in after them, his pleasant mask falling away that left only a cold expression in its wake.

“This room is very special.” He stepped into a role of a tour guide, his voice void of emotion as if he were describing the weather. “It conjures exactly what I need for prisoners. It can hang you by manacles from the ceiling, stretch you on the rack, waterboard you until you plead for mercy and so much more. Welcome, boys, to the famous Malfoy torture chamber. I imagine you and the room will be well acquainted with each other, soon enough.”

“Who are you?” Crabbe asked. He was manacled to the wall, arms stretched wide and ankles bound together as if he were a living cross.

“Me? Oh, nobody you would remember. I am a living relic, young man, a testament to the unpredictability of powerful magic.”

“What?” Crabbe said dumbly.

“The question is not what but how.” And with that parting nugget of wisdom, Abraxas left the chamber, sucking the light out with him. That room was special, it would create the exact conditions needed to force information out of any person it held. There was a good reason why the Malfoy’s were feared in times of war.

**HGHG**

Narcissa laid in the corner, chained to the wall like an animal. She probably didn’t smell any better either. Clothing was luxury that she was quickly learning to do without, no longer blushing as she was paraded in front of Lucius’ former peers. Her nightmare was complete as Voldemort walked in the door followed closely by his favorite servant, Rosier.

“Why don’t you just kill me?” She rasped. It was voiced as a question but it was more along the lines of begging. She lost track of how many times she had begged for death in the last few years. The fight never truly left her, even when she saw the Dark Lord bring the unconscious form of Potter and the dead body of the youngest Weasley boy into the Great Hall, a mere few days prior. She was shocked that they hadn’t killed Harry Potter. Her stomach clenched in fear. Why would they keep him alive? She was only holding on to her Occlumency shields because Hermione Granger was still at large and if Narcissa ever wanted to see her family again, she needed to protect that girl at all costs.

“I will not make the same mistake again. You would have died for them as your husband and son did for her, hence the reason I can’t kill her but she is so very desirable now. Why would the lauded and valuable Malfoy family give their lives to save one lowly Mudblood? It’s been years and still I am in the dark. You are my insurance, Darling. I couldn’t let you die. What is worse is that I believe you don’t even know why they did what they did.” Voldemort baited with a croon.

Narcissa clenched her teeth and stared at the floor as Rosier moved behind her, his hands running all over her body. He stopped his exploration to cup her breasts brutally pinching her nipples between his fingers, one in each hand. Narcissa gasped. It was no good trying to keep it all in as she tried to do at first, they wanted to hear her suffer, they needed it. Sometimes she suspected that was the only way that the Dark Lord was able to get off. He was a sadist who reveled in the depravity that he found in his followers. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to work for his completion this time. He only liked to use her in private, he never touched her sexually while she was being used by another.

The Dark Lord had quickly learned what would hurt her the most, make her want and need release. He loved inflicting pain, humiliating her in front of people that she knew well; he lived for the moments where she was forced to service his followers publicly. There was one horrifying night where she was forced to lick Alecto Carrow to orgasm under the table during a Death Eater meeting. It made her life nearly unbearable. Narcissa knew she was strong enough not to break but it was not easy for her to do what she needed to. They forced her and for survival, she did as she was told. It was much harder to forgive herself when it was his scaly head between her legs, his mouth on her nipples, fingers teasing. He had trained her as surely as if she were a dog; she was habituated to orgasm for him. At first, he used what she liked, moved the way she needed, then he began to introduce sadism into their sex games. Voldemort loved that he could beat her, slice her open and she would beg for more, for release. She was debased, less than a human. She was no more than what he wanted her to be. This is what it meant to sacrifice herself. Not her body but her mind. Everything was his except five memories. Only five. Everything else belonged to him. Her body, her mind, and her pleasure. She could sink no further. Save what was essential and sacrifice the rest. It was the only reason she was able to still keep her sanity.

She knew what was coming. It was always the same. It amused Voldemort to rape her mind while her body was violated. She gathered her shields around her, pulling the five of her most important memories into her core. She wrapped them in an impenetrable steel fortress, letting them sink below into a complex labyrinth. Layers of meaningless memories traced seemingly random patterns around the parameters of her mental citadel.

 Voldemort’s lips quirked. She was a challenge and he loved challenges. He knew that she knew exactly why the Malfoy men protected the Mudblood with their lives in the same way Lily Potter died for her son. She knew that he knew but he also knew that her occlumency was nearly as good as Severus’. So far, she had been successful at keeping him out. He was furious in the beginning but over the last two years it had transformed into something more fluid. He was impressed. Whatever she was keeping hidden must be very important indeed. Whatever game they were playing, he was determined to win.

Narcissa shook, tiny rivulets of blood ran down her arms as he pulled on the chain, forcing them above her head and on to her knees. Behind her, she could hear the metallic clink of Rosier releasing his belt and his trousers hitting the floor. Roughly he pushed her knees apart and pulled her hips into his, entering her dry. She gasped in pain as she was ripped internally, the man himself making grunting noises of pleasure as he rutted her from behind. Blood trickled down her extremities, her arms from the manacles and her thighs from the brutal rape. All she could do was brace herself with her arm on the wall and wait for them to finish. If she only had to deal with Rosier, she would sink into her mind and find solace in her memories but with Voldemort’s pillaging her mind, she dared not reach for the ones that would comfort her most.

 Voldemort grasped her chin and forced her eyes to meet his. She gasped, pain of her mind and body overtaking her senses as they brutalized her. This wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last. She screamed with pain, her insensate pleading filling the room.

Voldemort smirked as he sank into a memory that she tried very hard to suppress but was not behind her impenetrable wall. These weekly visits had turned into a proverbial hide and seek. She hid what she could and he hunted for it.

Narcissa was a young woman, her eyes and hopes set on the Malfoy heir. She had asked her parents to enter into marriage negotiations with the Malfoy’s and was only awaiting the letter that would make her the happiest woman alive. She was sitting at the Slytherin table for breakfast when the owls swooped in, a letter tied tightly to her family owl’s leg. She unfurled the scroll with shaking fingers. This was the cumulation of all of her efforts and desires.

My dearest daughter,

I regret to inform you that the Malfoy family has rejected our suit on the grounds that Lucius is already betrothed.

On a personal note sweetie, there are other men worth-while in our world. Take the time to look around and find someone that you are compatible with. The Malfoy’s may be rich and powerful but there is an odd magic that clings to them. This is just as well.

Love,

Father

Narcissa sat stunned at the breakfast table. How could this be? People swirled around her, colors and lights dimmed as she sank into despair. There was no chance for her. Anger quickly took her to new thoughts. Why would he flirt with her or show interest when he was unavailable?

Her head snapped up, a devious gleam entered her eye as a new idea came to her. She was a Slytherin Pureblooded Princess, if anyone could find him a way out of his current engagement it would be her. She would not fail.

That night she waited in the common room, sending the younger students up to their dormitories, ensuring privacy. Lucius was head boy and he would be coming back from rounds any minute. She nervously ran her long slender fingers over her silver silk negligee that she wore hidden beneath her cloak. There was no going back now.

The entrance slid open allowing Lucius to stride through, his hand already on his tie and pulling the knot out. She watched him as a lion watches the antelope. With hunger. She smirked and cleared her throat while staring at the floor. The moment that she knew that she had his attention, she let her cloak slip to the floor, landing in a puddle at her stockinged feet. Flicking her eyes up to his under her lashes, she threw him a coquettish smile. There wouldn’t be any doubt at what she wanted.

His eyebrows rose to his hair line, his eyes hungrily fixed on her barely concealed breasts. She started to move towards him, hips rolling seductively as she approached. Firmly she grabbed the ends of his tie and pulled him forward, a hairs-breath between their lips.

“Fuck me.” She murmured.

“Merlin!” He choked before pulling her willing body into his. Hands smoothed over her perfect curves, his mouth ravaging her simpering lips.

He pushed her back, walking them both over to the couch.

Voldemort, uninterested in watching the deflowering of Narcissa Black, began once more to search for something useful.

“I’m pregnant.” Narcissa said. Lucius’ eyes went wide and the color drained from his face.

“How?” He choked out stupidly.

“What do you mean how?!” She whispered furiously.

“My father is going to kill me.” Covering his face with a shaky hand, Lucius moaned. “What are we going to do?”

“You will have to marry me.”

He looked at her in a panic.

“I can’t!”

“You have to.” Her face curled into a vicious snarl. “Just wait until my father hears about this.” She hissed.

Voldemort pulled from her mind and followed the tracks of tears down her face. Looking like the cat that caught the canary.

“My dear Narcissa, make sure you please Rosier. After all, you are his reward.”

A sob caught in her throat as she watched him walk away, leaving her to the mercy of the man abusing her body. Her glassy eyes were unfocused as she tried to block the pain by sinking into the comforting memory of the prophecy.

**HGHG**

Hermione was lost. She was starting to fear that she would wander the corridors of Malfoy Manor until she died of starvation. It never occurred to her to call on one of the house elves. Such was life.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” Draco Malfoy drawled from behind her.

“I was trying to find to the room that the prophecies are kept in.”

Draco smirked and threaded his fingers around hers in the same way he had the day he died. He tugged her, throwing a smolder over his shoulder. How come she never noticed how hott Draco was? This seemed like a massive oversight. How could she combat his sexiness if she wasn’t prepared for it? Either she was being rewarded for a past life or she was being led into the deepest trenches of hell. This wasn’t just some elaborate joke to humiliate Harry Potter’s Mudblood was it? She doubted that she would find anything as absorbing as these Malfoy men in real life. Was she dead and just didn’t realize it?

God, she hoped not.

They stopped in front of a heavy wooden door without a handle. It was a plain flat panel, a door that was at odds with the rest of the ornately decorated house. Draco lifted his other hand and caressed the center. A tall man with the Malfoy features walked onto the door. He looked like a Viking, heavily muscled and long blond hair that reached his waist. He wore leather armor with steel adornments, his sword alone could rend a tree in half. He was handsome in a dangerous way, a fierce arrogance infused in his wide stance.

“Is this her?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Come closer, Elskede.” 

“I’d rather not, thanks.” Hermione muttered.

He chuckled and held his hand toward her, despite being a painting.

“I won’t hurt you, little one.”

“This is Sigurd, a Malfoy ancestor. His mother was the renowned prophetess, Feidelm. It is her prophecy that led us to you.”

“Prophecies are more trouble than they are worth.” Hermione announced.

Sigurd laughed and swung open allowing them to enter the room.

“You and I have a lot in common, Elskede.” He yelled as they passed.

“Well, in this case, the prophecy was spot on. Here we are. The wall of Hermione Granger.” Draco said as they stopped in front of a glass cabinet that was built into the wall. She looked at him with a raised brow.

“Can I ask you a question, Malfoy?”

“Only if you call me Draco.” He smiled at her. Hermione’s breath caught in her throat, a dazed expression slid over her face.

“Fair enough.” She agreed, trying to keep herself on track and off his handsome smile. He stood next to her, closer than was healthy for her focused mind and waited. Hermione cleared her throat and closed her eyes before opening them once more.

“Why did you treat me at Hogwarts the way you did; if you had a wall of prophecies about me?”

“That’s complicated. I’ll start with the easy stuff. My father and I didn’t know about the prophecy and memories until September 1997. We were trapped here at the Manor; the Dark Lord had moved in when Father got the most unusual summons from Gringotts. A sealed vault that was now accessible. Of course, my father went immediately. He hadn’t known about the vault in question. He was quite put out. There wasn’t much in there, only the one trunk. It had the prophecy among other related things. At first, we had no idea of the significance of the unsealing date. It began to make more sense after Father and I looked through everything in the sealed Malfoy vault. It was opened on your seventeenth birthday. Everything that was in the vault was removed and brought here. We were able to create wards that would survive our deaths and draw you to it. This room is probably what planted the time turner story in your mind.”

“Is Malfoy Manor sentient?”

“As sentient as Hogwarts and just as old. We are in the oldest portion of the house. It is the original building that Sigurd built when he accepted the lands.”

“If that was the easy part of my question, what was the hard part?”

“I liked you from the moment I set eyes on you. I even was prepared to overlook that you were a Gryffindor.” He looked away, pink tinge on his cheeks. “But then you became friends with Potter and Weasley. I knew then that there was no chance for us. The Weasley’s and Malfoy’s have a long-standing feud that has lasted hundreds of years. You were theirs and I was jealous. At the time, I was just a kid and I didn’t really understand what I was feeling. By the time I knew what I wanted, I thought it was too late. It was sixth year and I had a death sentence on my head. I couldn’t bring you into that, not that you would have come. You hated me and it was my own fault.”

“You died for me while running from the Manor. Why?”

“The contract.”

“This keeps getting better and better.” She mumbled.

“Why don’t you start with the prophecy.” He said gesturing to the orb sitting front and center.

**HGHG**

Lucius was sitting at his desk in his study, papers scattered like confetti. The sheer madness of filling out paperwork to declare one-self as alive was overwhelming. If that was the only thing to do, it would have been an easy day indeed. He had to declare three people as not dead. Therein lied the difficulty. Their bodies had been identified at the time of death and suddenly they were now alive again. The Gringotts Goblins refused to be duped. The hoops that they demanded he jump through were astronomical. He felt like pulling out his hair.

He looked up, disheveled as the panel to the secret entrance slid open. He smirked and leaned back in his chair as the dark menacing presence of Severus Snape appeared before his desk.

“Severus.” He stood, circling the desk. They met in a fierce hug, a bromance that began in Hogwarts. 

“I had to see it for myself. I felt it the moment Hermione crossed my wards a few days ago. The quake from her blood magic ritual of epic proportions gave me a bit of a shock but it wasn’t until I felt the magical signature of three dead Malfoy’s did I grow incredulous. I have to say, I admit that I was properly skeptical about your scheme. To be honest, I can’t believe it worked. You only missed one essential point in your plan.” Snape said.

“The bloody Dark Lord?”

Snape grinned. Then sobered, a serious look in his eye.

“Narcissa is alive. The Dark Lord has claimed her as his personal plaything. Her life has been absolute hell. I tried to pull her out of there but unless she cracks and gives him the memories that she is hiding, he will never let her go.”

“Damnit! I can’t do anything to help her. Between the magic that Hermione used and the contract, I am bound to her. I doubt that any marriage between Narcissa and I is still valid. Whatever protections she had magically by being my wife have all disappeared now that Hermione brought us back.”

“You are definitely not married still. It was one of the ways that the Goblins verified your death. So, what does it mean, being bound to Granger? Is Draco still betrothed to her?”

“He wasn’t technically betrothed to her. The entire Malfoy family swore fealty to her when she was still a child. You know the method that brought us back. You know what it means.”

“Then you are not going to want to hear this.”

“Just spit it out.”

“Harry Potter is still alive.”

Hermione pushed open the door and put a hand over her mouth in shock as Draco finally caught up with her in the hallway. She stared at Snape, her eyes wide with hope.

“It’s impressive that you know exactly where my Father’s study is, Granger.” Draco laughingly murmured.

She turned to him, hand still clamped over her mouth.

“Miss. Granger, Draco, do come in.” Snape growled. Hermione and Draco walked in the study.

“Professor Snape.”

“I haven’t been your Professor in years. Call me Severus.”

“Okay, Sir.” She said. His eyebrows rose as Lucius laughed. Lucius silently mouthed ‘Sir’ over Hermione’s head. “Is Harry really alive? How about Ron? Is he alive too?” She asked her eyes shining brightly.

“I’m sorry Miss. Granger, Mr. Weasley died the day the three of you broke into Hogwarts. Potter should have died too but he didn’t. Dumbledore’s portrait insists that this is a wonderful thing but I am skeptical. Death most certainly would have been more kind. The Dark Lord is going to pass him around as a Death Eater’s reward. He is to be gifted to Bellatrix tomorrow. It will be a public ceremony.”

“I have to save him!” Hermione yelled, eyes wild.

“And how are you going to do that? Think girl! If you are to save him at all, you need to form an unassailable plan. Bide your time and make sure that whatever you attempt works. You will only get one try.”

“I can’t let him suffer like that while I sit here in comfort! I have to do something! The library, I need the library.”

Lucius walked over to her and grabbed the tops of her arms and shook her a little.

“Listen closely, Hermione, if you die, you will take us with you. We are bound to you. We are only alive because you are alive. I will help you get him back, alive if possible. But we need you to be safe. You cannot run in and save the day. I know you are Gryffindor but I expect you to act like the Matriarch you are. The house of Malfoy must come first.”

“Harry is my best friend.”

“Abraxas and I will get him when it is time.”

“What about me?” Draco asked, eyes blazing.

“Someone needs to carry on the line.”

“You can count me in, Lucius. I am still Headmaster and that gives me a lot of information about the castle that the Dark Lord doesn’t have. Dumbledore’s portrait still firmly believes that Harry is the key to winning this.”

“Crazy old bastard.” Hermione mumbled drawing the shock of the entire room.

“Miss Granger, has your rose-tinted glasses fallen away?”

“Indubitably.”

Lucius loosened his hands and ran them down her arms, drawing her in closer to his chest. Hermione took in a shocked breath and his smell wafted over her. The spicy scent that clung to his robes was something that she had been dreaming about ever since that day in Malfoy Manor. Being in his arms was just as thrilling as last time, making her feel protected. There was just something about being hugged close that washed all of her fears away. Maybe it was because she knew how lethal he could be.

“Are you alright, Poppet?” Lucius whispered in her ear. She shook her head and rested it on his shoulder.

**HGHG**

Later that night, Hermione paced the hallway in front of Lucius’ door. She wanted comfort but felt awkward asking. She was berating herself for being weak, for having a sense of safety that Harry didn’t have, for surviving when Ron didn’t, Harry’s capture, her fault. It was all her fault. Harry had wanted to save her and as a result he was in this mess.

The door opened quietly.

“Hermione?”

“Lucius.” She whimpered, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Come here, Honey.” He said gently pulling her into his room. He sat in his chair before the fire and pulled her into his lap.

He smoothed her hair, his fingers lightly playing with the springy curls as she tucked his head under his chin. He dropped kisses on her temple, her head, her cheeks, murmuring soft words to her as the tears spilled over, her breathing harsh.

“Shhh, Darling. Everything will be okay, you will see.”

“It’s my fault he is there. He was under the cloak, he could have left us. Why didn’t he? We need him to kill you-know-who! I was expendable. Why?”

“I owe him my life then.” Lucius calmly said.

“What?”

“Without you, I would have no life, the Malfoy line would have continued to be an extinct house. You are everything good and beautiful in this world. It is no wonder that he would want to keep you safe.”

“Narcissa is alive. That is what Snape said. She is your wife. We need to save her too.”

“Our vows were for life, true but they broke the moment I died. I am bound to you, now. You are everything to me. You are everything to us, Draco, Abraxas, and me.”

She lifted her head and looked into his silvery eyes, the light of the fire danced in them, making him look dangerous. Her breath caught as his smell permeated everything, her head spun from his close proximity. Slowly he leaned in, watching her for permission or skittishness or whatever. She sat still, stiff as a board on his lap. His lips connected with the corner of her mouth, a soft sigh escaping her lips. A breathless moment that captivated her. How could his lips be so soft and molten at the same time? Hermione shivered at the contact. A bolt of heat shot through her core. She could feel him smile as he pulled away.

“Do you want to sleep here tonight?” He whispered.

Chapter Text

3

Previously:

She lifted her head and looked into his silvery eyes, the light of the fire danced in them, making him look dangerous. Her breath caught as his smell permeated everything, his proximity making her head spin. Slowly he leaned in, watching her for permission or skittishness or whatever. She sat still, stiff as a board on his lap. His lips connected with the corner of her mouth, a soft sigh escaping her lips. A breathless moment that captivated her. How could his lips be so soft and molten at the same time? Hermione shivered at the contact. A bolt of heat shot through her core. She could feel him smile as he pulled away.

“Do you want to sleep here tonight?” He whispered.

**HGHG**

Hermione stared at Lucius as if he had lost his mind. Her face flushed and her breathing hitched. Here she was sitting on his lap and was frightened by the mere question of staying the night.

“I will not be joining you, if that is what you are worried about. I have something to do before I can sleep. I doubt I will be done before morning.” He said.

The relief and disappointment warred on her face.

“Alright.” She said softly earning a smile in return.

“Do you want a cup of tea, Poppet?”

“Sure.”

Lucius handed her a handkerchief so that she could wipe the tears from her face. The fire held her gaze hypnotically as he pulled her back into his chest. The steady beating of his heart, calmly pumping in her ear, forced her to relax. Tinkling china filled the room as one of the house elves brought their tea.

“Thank you.” Lucius murmured. All Hermione heard was the pop of the disappearing elf as she burrowed further to Lucius’ comforting embrace. She blinked her eyes a few times, feeling cherished in his arms, so safe. There was just something about this man who made her feel as if the rest of the world could burn around them and he would protect her. That was the last thought she had before she fell asleep in his arms, her tea untouched.

Lucius held her close, chin resting on her head as she began to lightly snore. He smiled. His heart started to pound faster as his fingers explored the soft skin on her arms and knees. She was magnificent and he felt drawn to her in a way he never experienced before. He had loved Narcissa but not like this. He now knew the travesty of marrying someone for the sake of a child. It was devoid of the most important things in life, for him anyway.

“She is incredible, isn’t she?” Abraxas asked, slowly opening the door so that she wouldn’t wake.

“Breathtaking.”

“So, this is where she disappeared to.” Draco said as he joined them, closing the door behind him, just as softly as it was opened.

“She is feeling guilty for Potter being in captivity, Narcissa too.”

“That’s Granger to a ‘T’.”

Abraxas and Draco took chairs on either side of Lucius’ and the three of them sat quietly observing the woman in their midst.

“We will leave tonight.” Abraxas told Lucius. “We have to be able to watch everything, find the best way to extract them both.”

“Narcissa will be the most difficult to extricate. She will be next to Riddle. Severus said that she is going to be bound to him in slavery soon. It is the only way he can force her to give him the memories that she is hiding.”

“We can’t afford for him to find out what the prophecy and contract stipulates. Plus, it would put Hermione in harm’s way. He is intrigued by her now, what would happen if he knew she brought us back from the dead? The contract is even more serious. If he manages to capture her, we are as good as slaves as well. We are bound to her very life. We must never forget that she is the only hope for our family. I made sure of that when she was eleven.”

“We will do what we must. Draco will stay here and keep her busy in the Prophecy room and the both of us will do what we can to put an end to this war. She may not know it yet, but she is ours. She is a Malfoy in all but name and as soon as we can convince her, that will change too.” Lucius said.

He stood up and walked to the large bed, Draco followed and turned down the blankets so that Lucius could lay her down. Her curly hair spread out around her in a frizzy halo that hid the pillow completely. Her pink lips were set in a tiny smile, her face relaxed. She curled into the bed, her face pressed against the sheets. Lucius and Draco watched as their witch sunk deeper into sleep before covering her. Draco ran his fingers through her hair, a tender look on his face.

“She feels safe here.” Draco marveled.

“I think it is a lingering feeling from when we saved her, two years ago.” Lucius murmured, so as not to disturb their sleeping witch.

“She is so beautiful.”

“Yes, she is.”

“I hope she doesn’t freak out and run away when she sees the contract.”

“You and me both, Draco.”

They walked back to their chairs, eyes still occasionally darting to Hermione’s sleeping form.

“There is a chance that one or both of us dies in this attempt, Draco. If that is the case, you have to take her out of country and hide until this passes.” Abraxas began.

“She will never leave willingly. Not while Potter lives.” Draco muttered.

“Then we will have to make sure this doesn’t fail. To protect our mate, we must destroy the Dark Lord. The sooner the better.” Lucius said.

“That really goes without saying.” Abraxas said derisively.

“Narcissa has been suffering for two years.” Lucius whispered. He put his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees.

“She will always be part of our family whether or not you are still married. We will save them both.”

“Mother is strong. We will get her out of there.” Draco looked lost, his determination and hope bled into desperation.

“I can’t even imagine what she had to go through.” Abraxas agreed.

“She was my wife and I failed her.”

“Lucius, you are not to blame here. This is the Dark Lord’s doing and now that we are here, we are going to stop him.”

Silence settled over the room. They were used to each other’s idiosyncrasies, understanding on a basic level that silence was not necessarily a bad thing. Abraxas stood up and walked over to the bed. He let his fingertips trail over her cheeks.

“How is it that one witch can tie me up in knots so thoroughly?”

“I’ve been asking myself that exact question ever since I learned about the whole thing.” Lucius responded.

**HGHG**

Hermione woke up in the warm cloud of a bed that Lucius chose for his own. She hadn’t slept so well in such a long time, sinking into the feathered bed as if she had been born a princess, she lay contented. She turned her head and froze. After blinking a few times, her brow wrinkled in confusion.

It had looked as if Draco pulled one of the wingback chairs over to the bedside and instead of finding his own bed last night, he kept watch over her. He was out cold. His head tipped back in an angle that looked like it was painful. It was comforting to know that he wanted her to feel safe with them. She studied his face, relaxed in sleep. He was truly a handsome man.

She could have easily fallen for him before at Hogwarts had he treated her and her friends better. Oh, and wasn’t an all-around arse. She snorted lightly. She liked this version of Draco better. He was sweet and considerate. Always looking out for her, holding her hand, giving his life for hers. She was deeply touched. Whatever caused this change was unquestionably formidable.

Hermione crawled from under the warmth of the blankets, stripped the top most quilt and covered the sleeping man before padding softly to the bathroom. She groaned as she saw her reflection, her hair having gone wild in the night. She wanted to touch up but decided to just shower instead. There was no saving that bedhead. Pulling out one of the fluffiest towels she had ever seen, she turned on the taps. Where did the elves find all of the household linens anyway? It had only been a day or so since they have been back and already she was swimming in luxury.

She moaned appreciatively as she stood under the hot shower, the pulsating water kneading the muscles of her shoulders. Showers in Malfoy Manor were nothing short of orgasmic. And she would defend that opinion to the death.

Draco was awake by the time she came out of the bathroom, her hair wrapped in a towel on the top of her head. He watched her silently move around the room as if she owned the place, as if she were familiar with it. She on the other hand, felt like a chicken with its head cut off, she rummaged through personal possessions and boring documents looking for her wand, which happened to be on the window sill. Why it was there, was anyone’s guess. Hermione shook her head.

“Let’s go back to the prophecy room. I want to listen to it one more time.” She announced.

“Alright.” Draco stood. He grimaced having slept in that god forsaken chair for the better part of the night.

“Where is Abraxas and Lucius?” She asked.

“They must be somewhere. They left after I fell asleep.” He replied. He was very careful with each word he uttered. He dared not lie to her but neither could he tell her the truth. Hermione thinned her lips in suspicion but let it go. There would be plenty of time to grill him later if they didn’t show up.

“Well, lead on, Draco.” Hermione said, gesturing to the door. He grabbed her hand as he passed, holding on to her in a way that she was coming to really like.

“How are you holding up?” Draco asked.

“Harry is being tortured and has been for a week and a half. I am not doing well. After we are done here I want to go to the library.”

“We will get Potter out of there. Just give us some time.”

Hermione nodded as they stopped in front Sigurd’s door.

“Good morning, Elskede.” The blond Viking rumbled.

“How come I never get a good morning?” Draco complained.

“Because she is prettier than you.”

“Impossible.”

Hermione giggled at their banter but the smile fell away quickly. She shouldn’t be happy when Harry and Narcissa were being tortured.

With a sigh, Sigurd swung open, allowing them to enter the small room. The room was a marvel. Generations of memories swirled in their vials. Each shelf was clearly labeled. Dates, contents, and the originators name on each. One whole wall was a glass cabinet that was warded and spelled so that the only people that could open it were Hermione and a Malfoy heir by birth.

She opened the fragile door and cradled the prophecy in her hands. A husky alto voice rang out, a woman whose voice by its very nature was seductive. Of course, she was a Malfoy.

September 19, 1979 will mark the birth of Merlin’s protégé and she will rise from the lowest echelons of society. Her lineage will bless the houses of the Sacred twenty-eight. The fruit of her womb will be abundant and they will establish their own noble lines, replacing their fallen brothers. She will resurrect an extinct house and will build new foundations on which the entire wizarding world will rest. With a power unequaled, she will establish a new dynasty that will reign for a millennia.

Draco watched the confusion and wonder battle on her face. He smoothed her hair out of her face.

“Why did Abraxas think this person was me?”

“He saw your potential when you were just a child. Out of the three magical children born on that day, two of you were girls and only you were Muggleborn. Plus, the first time he saw you, you were sneaking out of your locked house. He was observing your family and when he saw you magically unlock the door and leave, he stopped you. He asked where you were going without your parents. And you told him that they weren’t your parents anymore because they wouldn’t take you to the library. He summoned a book for you. Your eyes lit up as if a fairy had hidden inside them. You glowed. You told him you wanted to marry him someday but only if he promised to keep giving you books.” Draco was grinning at the blush that spread over her face. “It was one of the reasons he was so fastidious about acquiring rare texts for the library.”

“I couldn’t have been any older than six. How did he know I was even a candidate?”

“He was a school governor. He was able to look at the magical register.”

“Naturally.” She mumbled, still embarrassed.

His finger was under her chin and he tilted her face so that he could see her. His lips inches from hers.

“I saw the memory. You were incredibly adorable as a child. A menace but adorable.”

“I wasn’t a menace.”

“Oh really?”

He smirked, his eyes bored into hers, pausing for one breathless minute before leaning in and connecting their lips. He caressed her bottom lip between his.

Hermione felt fire through her veins. She couldn’t breathe and butterflies had taken up permanent residence in her stomach. He smelled so good. She wondered if he always smelled this good. He moved in closer and removed the prophecy carefully, putting it back in its proper place. He drew air into his lungs through his nose and pressed her into the glass case, his body surrounding hers.

Her hands ran up his body to encircle his neck. He moaned as she stretched onto her tiptoes, her breasts naturally thrust into his chest. She pulled him down to her as he tangled his fingers in her hair.

His lips were demanding as he deepened the kiss, moving his tongue over the seam of her lips. Parting the plump flesh, he pillaged her mouth, drawing sexy mewls from her throat. When he finally came up for air they were looking at each other with unfulfilled lust and need.

“The library.” She squeaked.

He smirked as he clasped her hand, running one of his fingers on her ring finger, a bare portion of skin that he craved to claim. Soon.

**HGHG**

Narcissa lifted her head as the door opened, dread sinking in her stomach. Had it been a week already? She was losing track of the days, months blending into years.

Voldemort walked in and smiled at her. She cringed. Nothing good ever followed.

“Narcissa, Darling, I think it is time that I show the entire world exactly who keeps my bed occupied.” He laid a set of beautiful golden robes on the bed and squatted next to the corner that she was chained to.

He ran his fingers over her bruised face, tongue clicking. The abrasions healed as he fingered each in turn.

“Rosier isn’t kind to his play-things, is he? If you would just give me those memories that I know you are hiding, I wouldn’t let them do such horrible things to you. You force me to hurt you. I just want you to be happy, Cissy. Work with me so that I can stop this madness.”

Narcissa ignored him, sinking into the memories of when Draco was born. He was the very best part of her life. The only good thing that came out of forcing Lucius to marry her.

Voldemort growled as he looked into her glassy unfocused eyes. Narcissa knew that he hated when she ignored him. There would be severe consequences for her disobedience but she just couldn’t take his emotional manipulation anymore. It is not her fault. He controls everything, down to what she ate. If he didn’t want to hurt her, he wouldn’t. Her personal hell wouldn’t stop with her capitulation. She needed to be strong so that she could protect her family.

“Legilimens.”

Narcissa was laying in the master bed, propped up as the white silk sheets pooled around her. She looked down at her nursing son. Draco was a three-month-old with wisps of fine blond hair and his blue eyes were starting to change to grey. His little pink lips covered her nipple as he took long pulls of her milk. She smiled tenderly at him. He was everything that she had always dreamed of. Narcissa cuddled him closer as his little fingers pinched the skin under her arm.

Voldemort sneered in her mind as he mentally flung the tender moment away. He battered her defenses, cutting through her sweetest memories to fling his mind against her fortifications.

Narcissa had just stepped out of the shower and sat in a towel on the edge of their marital bed. Her head was in her hands as she wept. The healer said that she had postpartum depression but Narcissa knew the truth. She was grieving for her marriage. It had taken her a year and a half but she finally realized the problem with trapping a husband. He wasn’t in it because he loved her. No, he married her to give his son legitimacy. He liked her well enough, sure. They got along as good friends do but there was nothing more. There was no great love. Part of her regretted getting pregnant by Lucius but another part, the maternal side, was grateful. She wouldn’t be the mother of such a perfect child if she hadn’t seduced Lucius that day.

Adjusting to life as the wife as a Malfoy was difficult on a good day. Her in-laws disliked her, her parents had stopped talking to her, her husband was emotionally absent. There were only two people who seemed to understand her deep unhappiness without her saying it. Bellatrix and Severus.

Bellatrix was told shortly after her marriage to Rodolphus that she was infertile. For a pureblooded woman who married the patriarch of a dying house, she was expected to strengthen the line. It was the reason the Lestrange’s contracted for a Black, the most prolific of the pureblooded houses. For her to be unable to do that lowered her worth in the eyes of society. Rodolphus had found a young pretty thing as his mistress after only two days of receiving this news. Narcissa watched as the light and respect Bellatrix had for her husband and herself diminished. She was only a small insignificant nobody that just happened to be wealthy and infertile.

The sisters never abandoned each other but took solace from separate sources. Narcissa buried herself in raising Draco and Bellatrix studied magic, that is until she was thrown into Azkaban prison. Bellatrix felt that she needed to be powerful enough that no one would ever make her feel less of a person just because she couldn’t have children. The signs of madness were all there; the bitterness and her anger deepening into justification for cruelty. When the Dark Lord came along, he petted her hair and told her how special she was. Being pureblooded and unquestionably powerful, Voldemort gave her the vindication and attention that her soul needed to thrive once more. No longer was she a husk of a woman. She was his servant, the only woman in his inner circle. She fell in love with him, no matter how irrational such a thing was. It was then, after Bellatrix was broken out of Azkaban that Narcissa acknowledged the madness that lingered around her. It took a very heartbroken Narcissa two days to realize that the sister that had brought her comfort all those years ago, was gone.

Severus was a surprise to Narcissa. He and Lucius were close friends. They were both intellectuals that thrived on being powerful and influential. At the time, she didn’t realize that that need for power stemmed only from the need to protect. You can protect your own only if one had the power to make it so. He always made it a point to seek her out before leaving the Manor. They had become close confidants and friends. Had she been able to change her decision to get pregnant by Lucius, she undoubtedly would have fallen for him. If she could go back, she would have waited for Severus to grow up and snatch him before other women realized what a catch he was.

As she sat on the edge of her bed, crying for her marriage, she didn’t hear the door creak open. She continued her lamentations until a hand slid over her shoulder. She jumped. Lucius had already left for the day and the Manor was supposed to be empty. She looked up through her bloodshot eyes at the dark and newly-minted Potions Master.

“Cissy.”

“Don’t! I don’t want your pity.”

“Good because I don’t give it.”

“He doesn’t love me. He never did.”

“No. He doesn’t.”

“What am I going to do?”

“What do you think you should do?”

“Nothing, I am going to do nothing. I need to put my feelings aside and follow through with this life I have created with Lucius. Until Draco is a grown man, this is where I belong. Children need strong families when possible. Lucius doesn’t abuse me. He is a good man but I don’t know how I can bear seeing him, sleeping with him, knowing that it’s not me that he wants. Because despite everything, I still love him.” Narcissa patted her cheeks as Severus handed her a handkerchief. She smiled gratefully.

“You are a strong woman and if you ever need anything, and I mean anything, I will gladly come.”

“You are a good friend Severus.”

“Always.”

Voldemort moved on, his impatience burning through her mind. He didn’t want to look at that drivel. He battered his way through her barrier of memories, causing a momentary fracture in her fortifications.

Hermione was on the floor of her drawing room and Narcissa looked on in horror. She needed to do something, needed to get her out of there. The panic burned through her veins as Bellatrix sliced another mark into her future daughter-in-law’s arm. She wanted to fling her mad sister away, pull the sobbing girl into her arms and keep her safe. She shuddered as she held herself in check. She looked into Lucius expressionless face. She knew that he was looking at the girl writhing on the floor with hidden fascination and panic. She also knew that he felt the need to save her, not that anyone but her would be able to tell. Narcissa glared at the floor as the old familiar resentment lodged somewhere in her thorax. Lucius was looking at Hermione with curiosity. After all, had he not gotten Narcissa pregnant, the girl on the floor would be his fiancée.

She watched as his fingers clenched around the marble mantle of the fireplace. Draco on his other side. Her son was ghostly white, knowing that his future wife was being tortured in his own home, in front of his very eyes. The home he was supposed to present her with as a loving, safe environment where they would raise their future children. The Manor was warped now, it’s days of representing the grandest parts of the old ways were gone.

With a collective sigh of relief, the Malfoy’s were relieved when their prisoners escaped, forcing Bellatrix to leave the room. Narcissa pulled Draco into the receiving room, waiting at the door for Lucius who carried that battered girl. She called one of the remaining house elves and asked them to retrieve and fill Hermione’s bag with food, enough to be on the run for a year. Narcissa forced down her feelings of loss and soothed Hermione’s hair. It was not really the girl’s fault that Narcissa’s marriage was less than desirable. If there was any chance of her son living through this war, it would only be through this small, powerful child. She was a woman, not a child, Narcissa admonished herself. Despite having obviously gone hungry for some time, Hermione’s curves were still evident. The look in Lucius’ eye as he held her, confirmed for Narcissa the biggest truth of her life. Her husband and her son were in love with the same woman. It would have broken her heart if it hadn’t already shattered into a million pieces slowly over the years.

As they sent Hermione and Draco through the floo, Lucius turned to her and held her close.

“I’m sorry, Cissy, that I couldn’t love you the way you deserve. I want you to know that I have loved you in my own way. I wish that you had a happier life. I failed you and I am sorry.”

Voldemort opened the door and swept into the room, his furious glare falling on first one then the other.

“Et tu, Lucius?” Voldemort sneered.

Lucius only rose his chin, gladly blocking his master’s way.

“Where did they go? Where is your son and the Mudblood?” He yelled.

Lucius crumpled to the ground as the flash of green light hit him in the center of his chest, his body not even cold before Narcissa was bound next to him. She morbidly stared at his face, desperately praying that Hermione was the woman who they thought she was. Even if she would never be Lucius’ wife again, even if she died as they lived, she would never again regret her choices. He loved her in his own way and she loved him too.

It wasn’t long before Voldemort was back, Draco’s body hovering beside him. He kept his eyes on Narcissa’s as he set the dead bodies side by side.

“Why would your husband and son die to protect one little Mudblood?”

Narcissa held her silence, her jaw set.

“No? Crucio!”

She writhed on the floor as much as her bindings would allow, her throat burning with her screams.

Voldemort pulled from her mind a thoughtful look on his face. Narcissa went whiter than ever before. He had cracked through her defenses and accessed one of the five memories. She shook, feeling sick as the weight of import crashed around her. She couldn’t allow anymore of the five to be compromised. She had known that she wouldn’t survive this. She couldn’t take the chance that he would break through her defenses any further. She looked at the floor, terrified he would dive back in.

She was surprised when he didn’t.

“Be ready in an hour. You have free use of the bathroom until I come back for you.” He said quietly before quickly retreating. Narcissa wondered if a person would be able to drown themselves if they tried hard enough. She rose unsteadily to her feet as the chains disappeared from around her ankles and wrists. She walked like a newborn colt to the bathroom, her arms stretched out to the side to steady her shaky limbs. She had been chained there for days, her legs folded beneath her more often than not. She sobbed as the feeling began to rush back into her extremities. She fell to her knees and dragged herself into the bathroom. It was almost over. She wouldn’t have to suffer anymore. Dispassionately she wondered why she hadn’t tried to kill herself earlier.

She knew though that it was only recently that things changed. Harry Potter, the hope of the wizarding world was now in enemy hands. How could he defeat Voldemort if he was a prisoner? Narcissa clenched her teeth and mentally pulled up her big girl panties. She kept herself alive in case Hermione ever needed her. If Draco and Lucius were to live again, she needed to protect Hermione, even with her life if needed. Even if she had to sacrifice someone else’s life for it.  

She grimaced as she pulled herself to the lip of the tub and turned on the tap for the warm water. Narcissa thought about the memory that she had just replayed and marveled at how much she had changed since the day Lucius died. The feelings of betrayal and resentment were gone completely. She wondered at the change, having loved Lucius her whole life and came to a shocking conclusion. She was in love with someone else. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, Severus had always treated her with compassion and kindness, even as he treated the rest of the world with disdain.

**HGHG**

Abraxas and Lucius watched from the back corner of the ceremonial stage where they were heavily disillusioned. Their lips curled with disgust and derision as they watched their former peers as they sunk into atrocities that had never been part of the role of Death Eaters before.

How the mighty had fallen. The great pureblooded lines were blemished. Pedophilia, necrophilia, rape, sodomy and dangerous sex games were being played out in the open. The robed Death Eaters wandered from one area to another, openly jeering at the victims that were being abused.

“Bloody fucking Hell.” Abraxas muttered.

“As if we needed another motivation to stop that crazy bastard.” Lucius muttered back.

“Not only is this deeply disturbing but there are pureblooded children down there. I thought he ran on the pureblooded dogma.”

Their stomachs churned with revulsion. This was the makings of nightmares and they were only silent observers.

“You and I know exactly the same information. Although, I feel like Severus should have warned me about this.”

“Would it have changed anything?”

“I probably would have drugged Hermione to guarantee that she didn’t follow.”

“Is that likely?”

“Draco thinks so.”

“He would know.”

A disturbance at the entrance drew their gazes, eyes quickly drew to the two prisoners that were their highest priorities. A large procession of Death Eaters streamed in, a new inner circle followed their master. Narcissa was elegant as a queen as she walked sedately next to Voldemort. She looked sallow and underfed but they couldn’t see any scars or blemishes on her skin. They were holding out the hope that it wasn’t as bad as Severus made it out to be for her.

Harry was led on a braided leather leash that was attached to a wide white leather collar around his throat. His body only covered with a white thong, the bruises on his body glaring as the rainbow of colors from his bruises spread across every inch of skin. That is, the bruises were everywhere that the lash didn’t split. His eyes were nearly swollen shut and his hair had been slicked back so that no one would be able to deny that the person so degraded was actually Potter. His hands were tied behind his back and he stumbled as Bellatrix jerked his leash. A rumble of laughter flowed through the room.

Blood began to ooze down his legs from the deep gashes to his inner thighs. Abraxas couldn’t imagine he would last much longer if he had to suffer more of this treatment. It was brutal and nonsensical. His eyes hardened on Voldemort, walking in the front with a holier than thou attitude. This was his victory march but it was an empty one, he just didn’t realize it yet. But he would. Abraxas couldn’t take the chance that Hermione would be next to walk attached to that leash. Potter was her family. They were closer than siblings. It was something that war did to people. It forged bonds that were stronger than blood.

Lucius and Abraxas waited until the procession was on stage and they moved as if ghosts among their former peers. It was pure arrogance on the part of Voldemort that the wards around the celebration were many and yet still lacking. Anti-apparition wards were never erected and the Malfoy’s rejoiced at the foolishness of their enemies. Lucius stalked to the front, standing just behind Bellatrix. He knew that leash. It had magical retardants and many other binding spells woven into the very creation of the thing. It was meant for slave training and it was sickening to see it be used so callously. He clenched his teeth. The only way to get Potter out of there was to become master of the leash and that meant forcefully and willfully taking it from its current master.

A small coin heated in his pocket. Their signal to begin. Keeping the disillusion while disarming Bellatrix was difficult but with what felt like a lifetime of wrestling, Lucius finally won the allegiance of the leash and disapparated both Harry and himself out of there. They were in the center of the forest that connected to Malfoy Manor.

Lucius dropped the disillusionment and the leash, clawing at the bonds that kept the collar around Potter’s neck. Harry stood shivering, staring at Lucius as if he was staring at a ghost. Using his own cloak to cover the boy, Lucius pulled Harry into a very awkward hug.

“Am I dead?” He croaked.

“No.”

“Then how are you here. You died.”

“Hermione. That brilliant, amazing woman brought us back.”

“Us? Ron? Did she save Ron?” He yelled wildly.

“I’m sorry Potter. She could only bring back wizards from the same line, a dead line that she owed something to.”

There was a loud crack as Abraxas apparated in. He was flustered, already visible, and alone.

“Where is Cissy?” Lucius asked.

“When I tried to take her, it was as if a physical force held her there even though he wasn’t touching her. I couldn’t do anything. I nearly didn’t make it out of there at all. He saw me. He knows who I am.”

“So, you left her there?”

“What was I supposed to do? Stay and die? I couldn’t take her. It was physically impossible.”

Both men stared at each other, their stubborn anger fueling each other’s temper. Lucius looked away first. He knew he was being unreasonable but he owed her better than this. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. Hermione may be the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with but that didn’t mean that he had forgotten all of the years of loyalty. She was Draco’s mother and as such deserved the protection of the Malfoy family.

They began the long trek through the forest and grounds to get to the now heavily warded Manor. Harry was being led in a daze, not quite believing that he was free and that Hermione did actually make it out. He had doubted for days now. It was one of Bellatrix favorite things to taunt him with. She liked to list the details of the things that she vowed that Dolohov was doing to her.

“Harry Potter. I am Abraxas Malfoy. The patriarch of the family and Hermione’s first husband. It’s nice to meet the man who she holds in such high esteem.”

“What? Husband? How?”

“Well, I will be, eventually. I guess I can’t skip the chase.” He winked at Harry.

“Excuse me?”

“Potter, calm down. It was the spell she used. She is our family’s matriarch now. She just hasn’t realized the full ramifications of the spell she cast that brought us back. Despite my father’s forward manner, we are not going to force this on her. By the time we are done with the chase, as he so eloquently put it, she won’t want anyone else.”

“Your father?” Harry choked.

“Yes.”

“And you both are going to be her husbands?”

“Yes. Draco too.”

“I’ve died. I know it.” Harry sighed. He looked around disbelievingly. “I really didn’t think Heaven would look like this.”

“You are not dead, Mr. Potter.”

The moment they crossed the wards they stopped and the Malfoys began casting every healing spell they had in their arsenal. Lucius transfigured the cloak into a nice robe and Harry nodded in appreciation.

“Thank you.”

Once the three men entered the Manor, Abraxas summoned one of the many house elves in residence.

“Where is Hermione.”

“The library, Master.”

“Thank you.”

“I live to serve.” The elf bowed and disappeared, leaving the three men to find the library alone.

Harry stood in the doorframe and leaned against it casually as Abraxas and Lucius stood behind. They watched as Potter gathered himself and plastered an uneven smile on his face.

“I hope you have made her take breaks to eat, Draco. She gets bitchy when she is hangry.”

Chapter Text

4

Previously:

Harry stood in the doorframe and leaned against it casually as Abraxas and Lucius stood behind. They watched as Potter gathered himself and plastered an uneven smile on his face.

“I hope you have made her take breaks to eat, Draco. She gets bitchy when she is hangry.”

**HGHG**

“Harry!” Hermione yelled. She was across the room and in his arms within moments, a huge smile on her face. “How?”

“Abraxas and Lucius popped in and got me.”

“And Narcissa?” She asked, hope shining on her face. She craned her neck to look behind the Malfoy men as if she were just hiding behind them.

“We couldn’t take her. He has her bound to his side in some way.” Abraxas said.

“I’m so sorry, Lucius.” Her eyes were brimming with guilty tears.

“Just because we didn’t get her this time, doesn’t mean that we won’t get another opportunity next time. Plus, I have a feeling that we are going to be seeing the Dark Lord sooner rather than later.” Abraxas said.

“Oh? And why is that?”

“He saw me and he knew exactly who I was. The only reason he isn’t at our gates right now, is because he is trying to figure out how I am alive and looking as if I were in my late thirties.”

“How old are you?” Draco asked curiously.

 “I suppose we will have to brew a potion to find out.” He shrugged his shoulders.

Hermione’s attention was once again on Harry as she gave him a thorough examination. Her lips thinned in displeasure as the newly healed lash marks glowed a shiny pink in the dark lighting.

“What happened to you?” She muttered, horrified.

“Hermione, look at me.” Harry grit his teeth. He knew Hermione better than anyone alive and she needed to pay attention to what he was going to tell her. He waited until her eyes met his with worry and guilt. “I did what I did because he wouldn’t have just killed you. He wouldn’t have even tried. He wanted to capture you, badly. I didn’t realize how true that was until after I was taken prisoner. He is fixated on you and has been for a long time. I wanted to give you a chance to find a way to kill him. You don’t need me anymore. Not like that.

Did you know that I was a horcrux? That is why I didn’t die when he cast the killing curse at me this time. There was no one more shocked than me, believe that. I couldn’t stand living if both you and Ron were gone. I made my choice and I do not want you to feel guilty over it. I chose to save you and when I was being tortured that was the only thing that kept me sane. “

“I should have done something.”

“Like what? If it wasn’t for Snape, I doubt you would have even gotten out and don’t think that they didn’t notice his little helping hand. They did.”

“What did they do to him? He looked fine the other day.”

“My point is that there was nothing that you could have done differently.” Harry avoided looking at her. He wasn’t the best at lying and even worse when it was to Hermione. His ears turned pink, knowing that she would seek him out later and force the information from him.

“Poppet, why don’t we let Potter rest.” Lucius gently pried Harry out of her grip. Harry threw him a look of gratitude that made Hermione narrow her eyes suspiciously.

“I’ll see you tonight. I’ll visit.” She warned.

“Sounds good, ‘Mione.” Harry mumbled, fully capitulating. He followed Lucius out of the library and presumably up to one of the many refurbished rooms that the Elves had been busy restoring. Abraxas stepped into the library and next to Hermione.

“How can I ever thank both you and Lucius for saving Harry?” She asked. He threaded his fingers through hers and she looked up into his intense stare. His hand was larger than Draco’s, his skin was rougher, more callused.

“Come with me for a walk?”

“Where to?” She asked breathlessly. His thumb was absently caressing her knuckles.

“I want to show you something.” She nodded her head. “Draco, tell Lucius that I took Hermione to the glade.”

“Will do.” Draco said absently. He seemed to be quite absorbed by the book he was currently reading. It would have been quite convincing, had his neck and ears not turned a bright red.

“Are you okay Draco?” Hermione asked concernedly.

“Yes,” He flippantly replied. “Never better.” His eyes glared momentarily at his grandfather before lifting the book closer to his face.

Hermione shot Abraxas a perplexed look and raised her brows as she saw a look of pure amusement glittering in his eyes.

“Come on, Love, through here.” He pulled her into motion and she walked next to him through the halls to a glass room that boasted amazing views and a pair of beautifully crafted French doors. White silk curtains hung from the ceiling and hung gracefully to the floor. Each panel was gathered at the center and secured to the glass. The material fluttered with a magical breeze that gave the illusion of warm spring days. The room was filled with delicate and rare plants that couldn’t survive the clime of southern England.

Abraxas slowed and watched Hermione’s face as they walked through one of three attached green houses that the property offered and mentally noted which ones she seemed to gaze at longer than the rest. He wondered if she was interested in Herbology. He smirked as he led her to the doors that would drop them outside. She stumbled in the doorway, not expecting the sudden step down. Abraxas caught her by the waist, his gaze hungrily roaming her face. Hermione looked up at him and caught her breath. He was handsome. Fiercely protective and confident. He was close. Close enough that if she felt the inclination to connect their lips, all she would have to do is lift her face an inch higher.

She wanted to. She could feel his hands steadying her, burning through her robes. Breathing became more difficult as she inched closer and closer to his waiting lips. He smiled brilliantly, her stomach clenching with a sudden need so powerful that it rocked her. She felt as if she were drowning in him.

He pulled back and set her on her feet properly but kept his arm around her waist. He led her up a grassy knoll and conjured a woolen blanket for them to sit on. They sat like that silently, side by side for what seemed an age before he lifted their now connected hands and pointed out a small grove of trees in the distance. A slight shimmering brought her gaze into focus as she stared at the spot he indicated.

Several adult unicorns meandered to the stream. They lowered their graceful necks and drank deeply from the shimmering stream. Three golden baby unicorns splashed through the shallows, dancing around each other as they played. Hermione caught her breath. She counted as many of the unicorns as she could and was astounded to note that this heard must be one of the largest intact and protected heard in the world.

“So beautiful.” She murmured.

 “Yes, beautiful.” Abraxas breathed. She didn’t even notice that he wasn’t looking at the unicorns at all.

They sat undisturbed for what seemed like hours but as the light grew darker, Hermione steeled herself to leave the tranquility of the glade. She turned her head to ask Abraxas to take her back but she wasn’t expecting him to be so close, his eyes glittering. Her lips parted in surprise and her blood raced. He was so very close.

He leaned in slowly, watching her every move. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and licked it nervously before letting it slide back, glistening and plump.

“If you tell me to stop, I will.” His whispered breath caressed her newly dampened lips. She held perfectly still, wanting him to close the distance between them.

His lips closed over hers. He coaxed her response, her lips moving in tandem with his. Hermione moved into his arms as he pulled her closer. She could feel the planes and valleys of his body, the hardened muscular flesh and marveled at the feel of him beneath her inexperienced fingers.

His breathing grew ragged as they parted. She tried to pull her hands back from his torso where they had fisted in his robes but he caught them and pressed them harder into his body. His eyes glittered with the setting sun, a little half smirk on his lips.

“I am so glad that you are ours.”

“About that,” She said. Her eyebrows rose as she tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. “You and I are going to have a long talk about what you know about the prophecy.”

“Once you are done with the memories in the prophecy room, I will answer any question you can think of, Love.”

She nodded her head in acceptance. He helped her up and vanished the blanket before they meandered back to the glass room.

“I have been looking for you both.” Lucius said from where he was leaning against the wall in the hallway. He was half hidden in shadow and when he moved closer, he looked angry. His haughty cold eyes pierced Abraxas with silent accusations.

“We…we were, Um.” Hermione stuttered. Her anxious eyes on Lucius’ face. He looked away momentarily from burning a hole in Abraxas’ face to see Hermione’s confused look. His gaze softened as he offered her his arm.

“It’s okay, Poppet. You did nothing wrong.” He soothingly murmured into her ear. He looked back at the unimpressed face of his father and glared once more.

“Where are we going?” She asked brightly, a little too brightly. She had no idea what was going on but she felt a little intimidated by the both of them to come right out and ask. She would ask Draco.

“The library. Draco wanted to take you back to the prophecy room.”

“Why didn’t he come and get me?”

“I have barely spent any time with you. I wanted to see you.” He said matter-of-factly. She smiled at him.

“I didn’t get to have that cup of tea that you offered to me last night. Would you mind if I came again tonight?”

 “I look forward to it, Poppet.”

She only parted with Lucius and Abraxas to enter the library alone. She smiled at Draco as he looked up from the book he was reading when she walked into the room.

“Draco, Lucius said you wanted to take me back to the prophecy room to start watching some of those memories.”

“Yup.” He smiled at her and closed the book that he had been reading. Tossing it lightly onto the nearest table. Once they left the library they could hear muffled arguing floating down that hall before it went silent.

“Are they mad at me?” She muttered apprehensively.

“Why would they be mad at you?”

“I kissed Abraxas.” She admitted sheepishly. He smirked.

“No, they are not mad at you. They both want to do a lot more than just kissing you. I believe this is a case of the green-eyed monster. And probably safety.” He muttered the last to himself.

“Lucius is jealous of Abraxas?”

“Yes.”

“I should go back and apologize.” She said fretfully. She didn’t want them to cause a rift between them. Draco laughed.

“Leve them to it. It is something that we are going to learn how to deal with anyway. Malfoys as a rule do not share anything, least of all their wives. It’s a new thing for us. Be indulgent.”

He steered her down several hallways until they were once again standing in front of Sigurd.

“Twice in one day, I am truly honored.” Sigurd smiled charmingly, his white teeth gleaming through the painting.

“Utterly ridiculous for a painting to flirt with a taken woman.” Draco grumbled.

“Ah, but there was the hope that she would have pulled me from the abyss. I am quite devastated I didn’t make the cut.”

“Sorry, Sigurd. Only one life for you.” Draco crowed, throwing his arm around Hermione’s shoulders.

“Well Elskede, if you ever get bored of my descendants, you can always come here for riveting conversation.” He smiled winningly to Hermione while simultaneously ignoring Draco.

“I will keep that in mind. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Draco and Hermione walked once more into the prophecy room. Draco immediately took the chair in the far corner, lounging while watching Hermione choose the first memory off the shelf.

“They aren’t in order.” She mumbled.

“They aren’t in chronological order, true. They are in the order that you should watch them. It took father and I the better part of a week deciding how to set them up for you. To be honest, we thought you would have looked through all of this before trying the spell you found.”

“Do want to watch them with me?” Hermione asked.

“Not these ones. they are short and boring but needed for context. I’ll join you when you get to the more interesting ones.”

She nodded her head and dumped in the first six, letting them swirl together.

Abraxas was celebrating his seventeenth birthday, his friends surrounding him in his family’s ballroom. Tom Riddle held court over them, dispensing his approval or disapproval in small bursts as boys sought his favor. They weren’t very subtle about it and Tom was clearly annoyed. The adults were starting to shoot their group questioning looks as the bolder of the boys wanted to be included in Tom’s inner circle. Abraxas smirked, his superiority assured. He was Tom’s right hand man.

His father, the lush, embarrassed his son by sidling up to the group in a drunken stupor. He threw his arm around Abraxas’ stiff shoulders and slurred half formed excuses for stealing away the birthday boy. Abraxas was humiliated. Why couldn’t his father act like the powerful scion that he was? He was an embarrassment to the superiority of the proud pure family.

He was led into a room he had never been in before, a room that had previously been locked with powerful spells. He had always wondered what his father thought was so important to warrant not only his fathers’ magic but time as well. His father was a lazy, entitled sot that rarely used focused magic on anything. What was so special about this room?

Memories glittered from their vials on shelves all around the room. The swirling iridescence of the undulating contents caught and held his attention.

“Brax, come here and take a look at this.” Abraxas watched as his father took the small globe from the shelf it sat on, letting it roll between his hands, smiling slightly before dropping it into Abraxas’. His eyes lit up as the ethereal voice of his descendant floated around him. The prophecy burrowing into his heart. She would come in his lifetime, it could be his son that secures her. He frowned. There is nothing in the prophecy that indicated the chosen would be a Malfoy. He clenched his teeth. He would make it so, as soon as he found her, he would bind them together tighter than a Chinese maidens foot. He couldn’t let another house have the chance to have her. She was exactly what he wanted his family to embody. Power and consequence. He felt a niggle of unease. Tom. They were so deeply embroiled in the pureblooded dogma. How would his master react if he found out that one of the most noble of families not only planned on marrying a Muggleborn but also banked on it?

Hermione’s eyes narrowed as she watched the scene with Abraxas. What had he done to secure her to the Malfoy family? She was willing to bet that it had everything to do with the elusive contract. Soon, she would get her hands on it.

She blinked as the scenery changed. A burst of color blinded her as the bright sunshine of a clear summer day met her eyes. A tall blond sword wielding demon held the hill from the combatants that surrounded him. He was clearly the only warrior left standing against his enemies, the smaller Anglo-Saxons.

A Viking horn sounded in the distance causing the enemy warriors to stop their advancement upon the new king of the hill. Reinforcements have come and despite having the numbers on their side and felling a half dozen of the foreign giants, they were losing. The lone Viking stood unmovable on his mountain top. More than a legion of their fighters laid dead at his feet.  The Viking was blood and gore spattered, his brown leather armor now dyed a red ocher. He screamed his berserker rage at the retreating army and let them flee despite the fury that fueled his slaughter. He held the hill as he was instructed by his King. A necessity to the growth and legacy of his people, his family.

His mother had sent him to the lush fertile lands of the Southern English shores with only a prophecy to remember her by. It was his destiny to build his legacy in this new land, a house that would one day merge his line with the great wizard Merlin. It was the hope of every magical family in the world, to be connected with Merlin would equate to political power and magical gifts beyond the norm.

As his brethren climbed the hill that he stood atop, his hair whipped around his body in a fierce dance, blood having long ago clotted the strands into clumps of red. He was tall and proud, his King even stopping to admire the figure of the warrior as they advanced.

“Sigurd Malfoy. You are gifted this land in the name of your King. You are to care and cherish every magical soul that resides on your land, giving them sanctuary from the onslaught of the non-magical heathens that scar the earth wherever they put down roots. Today they have been eradicated from one tiny portion of land, a sign of greater things to come from our magical brethren. Lord Malfoy the first.” The Viking King raised the arm of his faithful, letting the cries of the other warriors fill the air with the newly titled Lords appointment.

Sigurd’s prowess was finally recognized, vindication of the only son of a prophetess. It was destiny. He would stay, build a home and life suitably grand for his children, so that when Merlin’s protégé came into the world, she would be pampered and adorned with all of the wealth that the Malfoy family could offer. He held the prophecy close to his heart, the warmth of his skin permeating the small orb.

He drove his great herringbone patterned iron sword into the ground at his feet. A long white ribbon that he had attached to his pommel rode the breeze denoting ownership. This was now Malfoy land.

Hermione sighed as the gory scene of the hill faded and she stood in the center of a large room. It had obviously been crafted by a master, the scrolling and carvings that detailed the entire space. Its dark wood reflected the light of the fire that danced in the marble fireplace.

A man was on his knees. He wore a white robe, his long platinum hair coiled on the back of his head. His beard was long and tossed over his shoulder, pushed out of the way as his face was in the fireplace. Hermione watched as the man sat back on his haunches, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Father, is everything okay?” A young blond boy asked. His feet were bare and he was newly awoken. There was a poverty that surrounded the duo, a shabbiness that belied the wealth of the room. Their clothes were severely worn; the gaunt, sunken look of their cheeks showed want.

“Come here, Arundel.” The tired old man gestured to the floor next to him. The boy, only ten or so, sat, his brow wrinkled in fear.

“Your Grandfather died last night and he left us little more than beggars. This land, house, and its contents are all we have left of the Malfoy monies. The goblins will hound us for a century for his folly. We must work hard, Arundel, so that when our lady is born, we have something to offer her. Would it be our fate to lose her to another house despite being forewarned? Your grandfather was a selfish man. He cared little for the family prophecies. Her birth is more than five hundred years away but that does not mean that we should let the next generation worry about it. It is our duty to the Malfoy line to give our future generations something to build on. The type of wealth and safety that she deserves should be the work of countless generations, whether we get meet her or not. It would be an honor to marry such a woman and we must prove that we are worthy enough for her.”

Arundel was nodding. He watched seriously as his father’s chin rose. They had to discharge all debts within their lifetimes. They couldn’t leave the future Malfoy’s to clean up the mess of their forbearers.

 Hermione blinked tears back as she watched the scene change. The Malfoys didn’t even know her and still they wanted her, even then. So much so, that they grew their fortunes for her sake and not their own. It was touching. She waited as the next memory finally coalesced around her.

Draco Malfoy watched as a curly headed witch ran out of the classroom. He had overheard the comments of her own house, the unflattering bullying that accompanied her to each lesson. She was brilliant. The teachers saw it, he saw it, how could her own house not see what an amazing asset she would be to them?

He started to walk to her, captivated by her. Wanting to stop her tears and offer her comfort, he began following her. His heart lurched as he watched her glare at her tormentors and walk as if she were supremely unperturbed. Pride swelled his chest, his eyes focused on the oddly familiar eleven-year-old Hermione Granger.

   There was a moment that stilled him. His father would not be impressed that she was a Gryffindor but that could be overlooked, couldn’t it? It wouldn’t be the first time a Slytherin was interested in a Gryffindor. He was decided. Tomorrow he would befriend her. Fingers flexed as he repressed the urge to touch the curls that were bouncing on her head. Were they as soft as they looked? He finally tore his eyes from the back of her head and followed his dorm mates back to the Slytherin common room.

Time jumped as the memory moved forward, Hermione stood behind the young Draco Malfoy who was firmly ensconced at the Slytherin table, his eyes more often than not on her younger self who sat between Harry and Ron at the Gryffindor table, a book propped against the juice jug.

Draco’s stomach clenched in longing and anger. How could she just forgive the Weasel so easily for the things he said about her, to her? She was too kind for her own good. Draco scowled. Whatever happened to make them friends happened three days ago and Draco was angry. She was better than them, Potter and Weasley. He kept waiting for her to come to her senses. She would get tired of the nasty comments and kick the duo to the curb and when she did, he would be there to pick up the pieces. He refused to make the same mistake twice.

The memory swirled into the next almost seamlessly.

An older looking Abraxas strolled down a familiar street holding the hand of a boy that Hermione knew was Draco.  They passed her house as she watched, headed for the local playground. Draco was eight and obviously not happy about the outing. He was in muggle clothes and kept pulling on them. They were uncomfortable and boring. He would have preferred his normal attire.

Abraxas sat on a bench next to Richard Granger, her father and sent Draco off to play. Abraxas gazed at the young curly headed witch that was bossing the kids on the slide.

“Richard.” Abraxas greeted.

“Good to see you again Abraxas! It’s been a while.”

“When family business calls…” He said as Richard nodded his head knowingly.

“My father would have loved for me to take over the family business but what do I know about shipping and the importing/exporting business? I never had a head for it.” Richard said.

“You are lucky. My father couldn’t have cared any less about the business. Had I not picked it up we would have been penniless. I couldn’t allow that.” His gaze returned to Hermione. She had pulled Draco onto one of the swings as she took the one next to him. Abraxas smiled.

“Ah well money isn’t everything.”

“No but it helps get what you want.”

“True. It’s not like I don’t make a fair amount.” Richard chuckled before turning serious. “Strange things have been happening around Hermione and I don’t know who else to talk to about it.”

“What kind of strange things?”

“Last week during dinner, Beth told Hermione that she had to eat every bite of her broccoli before she could be excused from the table and the next instant the broccoli was all gone. Not just the ones on her plate, but every tiny morsel in the whole house.”

“She is a special girl, your Hermione.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Is it hurting anyone?”

“No.”

“Leave it be. One day it will all make sense.”

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“I’m not. She is a witch and one of the most talented in a thousand years.”

“A witch?” Richard scoffed. “Fairytales.”

“When she turns eleven, she will be approached by the most amazing magical school in the world called Hogwarts.”

“Your serious.”

“I am.”

“Why are you here, Abraxas?” Richard asked shrewdly.

“I want my Draco to marry your Hermione when they grow older. Isn’t it natural to want them to get to know each other?”

Richard’s face turned red.

“We have been friends for years all because you want Hermione to marry your grandson?”

“Yes.” Abraxas answered calmly. Richard’s nose flared.

“Leave my daughter alone.” He threatened before calling Hermione and leaving the park quickly.

“Well, that could have gone better.” Abraxas sighed. “Come on Draco, let’s go home.”

The memory faded as the last memory materialized around her.

Lucius stood in the nearly empty vault with the prophecy in one hand and the contract clutched in the other. He looked like he was going to be sick, his lips pressed together in a long thin line. He set down the prophecy and poured one memory in the portable pensieve at a time.

Time seemed to speed by as he looked at every memory in the opened trunk, his expression morphing from fury and disbelief to amazement. He looked at the parchment still clenched in his fist, smoothing out the wrinkles he had made. Understanding finally flowed through him, he was stricken. His hand shook as he desperately tried to keep his trembling at bay. The last page of the contract was being distractedly caressed by his large hands.

I, Abraxas T. Malfoy, the Paterfamilias, bind the Malfoy family to ( Hermione J. Granger). We will hence forth ensure her protection and care at the price of our own if needed. In exchange, the next generation of the Malfoys are to be hers. I agree to betroth her to the Malfoy heir, ( Lucius A. Malfoy Draco L. Malfoy) in accordance with the matrimonial laws of the Wizengamot. A hefty bride price to be determined at a later date.  

Abraxas T. Malfoy      July 16^th 1991                                                     Richard E.Granger 16/7/1991

It was obvious that the names and dates had been filled in over several years. She stared at the crossed-out name of Lucius Malfoy and let her jaw drop in shock. She wondered why Abraxas had tried to betroth her to Lucius when there was obviously another generation in between them. She shook her head, not that it mattered now. Her eyes wandered to the signatures and her eyes bugged out as she spied her father’s signature. Her father signed it? What was going on?

Hermione came back to her body and looked around the small room. Draco had his elbows on his knees, leaning close to her. Their eyes met and locked, hers uncertain while his held only pleading for understanding.

“I want to see that contract.”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Finish the memories first. They will explain fully what is going on. You can finish them tomorrow, Granger. Father just informed me that Potter is asking for you.”

“How could I have been betrothed to Lucius first? His name was on the contract but crossed out. I wasn’t even born yet. And my father signed that contract! I would recognize his handwriting anywhere. How the hell did that happen?”

“The memories will explain everything you need to know.”

“I will not be patient much longer.”

“Understood.”

**HGHG**

Narcissa had been alone in his room for the last two days. Her meals had been brought to her, great feasts, the sight of which she had only seen from her place on the floor while the Death Eaters met in the two years that she had been prisoner here. She worked herself into a tizzy, knowing that it was only a matter of time before Voldemort came for her and she wasn’t sure she would be able to keep her triumphant thoughts behind her walls.

When Abraxas was revealed on the stage after Potter was saved, Voldemort studied the Malfoy who had been a servant in his own youth. Shock was quickly replaced with a shrewd cunning. Without moving, Voldemort watched as the previously dead patriarch tried and failed to liberate Narcissa from her place beside him.

The Death Eaters flocked the stage hoping to catch the familiar looking interloper and receive the heavy praise of their Lord and Master. Abraxas was faster though and he paused only long enough to meet her eyes in apology. She didn’t mind. She was elated. For him to be there, to be alive meant that Hermione had done it. Hermione Granger raised the dead. The most brilliant witch in a millennium.

Narcissa’s eyes shone with unshed tears and happiness. All of those years of suffering and fear mingling with unmitigated hope finally found a home in her gut. Her family was back. She smiled.

Her happiness was only compounded by the fact that her family managed to liberate Potter right from under the Dark Lord’s nose, figuratively speaking. She wondered if it had been Lucius or Draco. It was actually quite smart of Abraxas to try and take her and not leave it up to the other two. Perhaps it was Sigurd. Maybe he finally got his dearest wish to be one of the chosen. She smiled at the thought of the unexpectedly tender Viking being alive once more.

The door creaked open and Narcissa flinched. Bellatrix followed closely on the heels of Voldemort. He was watching her the way a snake sized up their victim for his next meal. She shuddered in response. There didn’t seem to be a way out of this. Not for her.

Numbness stole over her body, holding her captive before acceptance sank in. She got what she wanted. Hermione had returned the Malfoy’s from the dead. Her chin rose in defiance. If she was to die, she would do so with dignity and strength, no matter what he did to her.

“Cissy, Darling, can you explain to me why Abraxas Malfoy tried to take you from me, and why another was able to successfully steal Potter from me, from your sister?”

“Abraxas died a long time ago.”

“Ah, but I am aware of that, Darling. If the man is supposed to be dead, how is he alive?”

“I suppose you will have to ask him.”

“Oh, I intend to Darling. But first I felt that without all of the pertinent information I may be walking into a trap. That is where you come in. I would like you to give me those memories that you have been hiding for the last two years.”

Bellatrix moved forward and clasped Narcissa’s hand between her own.

“Cissy, you could be rewarded for this. You don’t have to be hurt all the time by Mulciber and Rosier. If you tell the Dark Lord what he wishes to know, I can help you. Take you home with me. He promised that if you gave up those memories to him, that as a reward to me he will let you go. Cissy, let me take care of you.”

Narcissa looked into the mad eyes of her sister and felt like she was going to cry. Bellatrix believed this still. Refused to acknowledge that Narcissa’s captor had been Voldemort all along, that she had been mercilessly tortured by his hands for years. How could Bellatrix look at her with such soft caring where only months ago, she refused to look at the sister that was forced to sit beneath the supper table like an animal. Forced to do degrading things to anyone who asked for them. What the hell was wrong with her sister that she could ignore the last two years and beseech her to just give in. She was so close. Potter was free once more and Hermione, that wonderful and amazing witch, raised the dead. Narcissa had no doubt that this war would end soon.

The door opened and Narcissa looked up into the unperturbed face of Severus Snape, his dark eyes ignoring her presence in the room.

“My Lord, there has been news from the scouts.”

Voldemort screamed his rage and strode from the room leaving the two sisters together. He paused in the doorway long enough to catch Bellatrix’s eyes.

“I need those memories.”

“Yes, My Lord.” She bowed her head in deference. “I will get them for you.”

“See that you do.”

Narcissa looked deeply in Severus’ eyes and saw the lingering apology. He did all that he could to give her more time. She could sense that. Her lips twisted in a mockery of a smile. He knew what she was trying to say. He always did. She felt the comforting brush of his mind against hers for a moment. Spinning on the balls of his feet, he left, following his master down the corridor.

“You can give them to me, Cissy. I will protect you.”

“Bella, if you have ever loved me, if you have ever felt pity for the position that I am in, please, let me go. I can’t give him those memories. If it was of no consequence, do you think I would have held them so tightly to myself? Let me go.” Narcissa whispered.

“Cissy, I love you. You are the only family I have left, other than the Dark Lord but you have brought this on yourself. Why did you have to make things so difficult for yourself? Why resist? Did you not think of what your lowly position would do to my own? I get ridiculed every day because you are used by anyone who wants to touch you. ‘At least your beautiful sister can give children to whom ever gets her in the end.’ Do you not think that would be traumatizing to me? That it would hurt me?”

“Bella, you are not the one being raped and tortured. This is about something bigger than personal comfort and gain.”

“Explain it to me.”

“I can’t.”

“I am your sister!”

“And you have not acted like my sister in years, Bellatrix!” Narcissa screamed. Her nostrils were flaring, the fury was naked and unbanked in her eyes.

“He needs those memories. If I get them from you, he will be mine. He will love me, want me.”

“Can’t you see, Bella, he doesn’t love you. He doesn’t love anyone.”

Bellatrix was too far gone in her dreams of being Voldemort’s consort that her eyes blazed with unfocussed insanity. She began muttering to herself as she slid a silver blade from her inner robes. Narcissa stiffened. She recognized that blade. The cursed blade. The word Mudblood, flashed in her eyes. The puckered skin that ran with the blood of her daughter-in-law to be. Mudblood. Narcissa knew then that she was not important enough in Bellatrix’s eyes to save, to go against the Dark Lord for. How she wished Severus hadn’t left. He always chose her. He healed her, fed her, warmed her when he could. She understood he couldn’t do more. He was the connection between the Dark Lord and the resistance. Someone needed to feed information when they could to the Order. Those that were left of it anyway.

Narcissa hissed as the first cut of the blade sank through her skin like butter. For a moment, she watched dispassionately as the droplets of blood beaded on the wound on her leg. Bellatrix had made her first letter, B. Tears streaked down Narcissa’s face as she looked up at her sister. She knew what Bellatrix was carving. Blood traitor. She closed her eyes and locked away the four remaining unseen memories. Four was only minimally easier to hide than five but she knew this was going to be a torture like none other, delivered at the hands of a once beloved sister.

**HGHG**

Snape and Voldemort stood on the rise outside of the Malfoy properties and looked at the rippling wards that made it appear as if it were still the moldering remains of a fallen pureblooded family. A legion of Voldemort’s followers continuously cast spells to bring down the newly erected wards.

Voldemort waited with blood retribution in his eyes. The bloody Malfoys were always the sneakiest of his followers, slithering out of punishment and landing on top of whatever political ladder that was currently in charge. He clenched his teeth. He wasn’t sure exactly how it happened but he was not going to allow anything to jeopardize the world that he had built. The escape of Harry Potter was put on the back burner as a new more pressing issue arose. Abraxas Malfoy.

Chapter Text

5

Previously:

Snape and Voldemort stood on the rise outside of the Malfoy properties and looked at the rippling wards that made it appear as if it were still the moldering remains of a fallen pureblooded family. A legion of Voldemort’s followers continuously cast spells to bring down the newly erected wards.

Voldemort waited with blood retribution in his eyes. The bloody Malfoys were always the sneakiest of his followers, slithering out of punishment and landing on top of whatever political ladder that was currently in charge. He clenched his teeth. He wasn’t sure exactly how it happened but he was not going to allow anything to jeopardize the world that he had built. The escape of Harry Potter was put on the back burner as a new more pressing issue arose. Abraxas Malfoy.

**HGHG**

Abraxas and Lucius stood in one of the oldest rooms in the Manor and watched as Voldemort and his legion of wizards attacked the wards around the estate. It was a viewing room made entirely of hewn stone. The only part of the building that had been created without the use of magic. Inside on a stone pedestal was a large blue orb that was currently projecting the onslaught onto the room’s walls. The room faded away as if they were truly outside watching it first-hand.

The threads of the wards could be views as webs of intersecting lines, each ending and beginning in that room. The blood and kin wards had not only been set around the perimeter but also from this room. They could see where the attack was hitting hardest and reinforce those that weakened. The Malfoy men were on a rotating schedule so that there were two in this room at all times. It was where Abraxas was supposed to be when he decided to take Hermione on a little romantic moment at the Glade.

Lucius was furious at his father. It was true that the two in life often bumped heads but now that they were eventually going to share one wife the fire really poured through. The attack had begun only an hour after Abraxas had disappeared with their witch. Knowing that they were at the Glade didn’t make him any less skittish, no, it only worsened his anxiety. She barely made it out last time. And if they died saving her this time, there would be no clever second chances. They had to work as a team.

The silence in the room rang with the silence as the two stubborn men refused to budge in their anger. Lucius, ever the pragmatist, decided they could butcher each other with silence later.

“We can’t hold them off forever.” Lucius growled through gritted teeth.

“We will have to sacrifice some of the property to protect the rest.”

“What did you have in mind? Andrex cottage?”

“No. The unicorns made it through our deaths unscathed. They will be fine for another few days. Just this one room, I think, is all we will be able to protect.”

“The prophecy room?” He breathed.

“We can try to save them both or we could move the prophecies.”

“Move them? With maybe a half hour to do it in? No. I think we should try and shield them both.”

“And risk losing her in the process? That is not an option! There is no doubt we can keep this room protected no matter what he throws at us. If we try to protect both rooms, we run the risk of losing them.”

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“I’ll stay. Go get the others and grab as many of the memories as you can. I will hold Voldemort and his forces until you come back.”

With a sharp nod, Lucius was out of the room, faster reflexes than one would believe. He ran down the halls with one destination in mind. Potter’s room. Lucius was certain that Hermione and Draco would be there.

When he got there and opened the door, he was met with a dark room and silence. Harry was sleeping and the other two were nowhere in sight.

“Potter, wake up. We are under attack and need to gather Hermione and Draco. Do you know where they are?”

“No,” Harry rubbed his sleepy eyes and put his glasses back on. “They haven’t come to see me yet.”

There was only one other place they could be now. He strode to the prophecy room, Harry at his heels. He halted in the doorway as he took in the scene before him. Hermione was inside the pensieve, and Draco was in the chair next to her, watching her and the room. Boredom on his face.

“Tell Hermione when she comes out that Potter wants to see her. We will be in the Observation room.” Lucius said.

“That bad?” Draco murmured.

“Yes.”

Lucius walked into the room and pocketed five of the next memories. Before leaving, his robes billowing impressively. He could have given Snape a run for his money.

“Bring the pensive with you.” Lucius requested from over his shoulder just before the door closed. Draco nodded, his brow wrinkled in concern. He settled in to wait for Granger to resurface.

**HGHG**

Voldemort smiled as the defenses to the property were systematically destroyed. It was taking much longer than he anticipated but he had faith that the sheer number of wizards that he had blasting against the wards would eventually bring them down. He wasn’t shocked that the wards were this strong. Abraxas was one hell of a wizard. Even Voldemort could admit that.

“My Lord, what would you like to do first? I could go search for him.” Severus said.

“I want my entire force to focus on and take out the room exuding the most magical output.”

“Of course. My Lord. Any particular reason?” Snape asked almost bored.

“Everything I do is carefully thought out. Are you doubting me Severus? Do you need another reminder of your loyalty?”

“No, My Lord.”

Voldemort smirked unpleasantly

“Fetch me Narcissa Malfoy.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

**HGHG**

Narcissa laid on the floor panting in a pool of her own blood. She couldn’t bear to look at the mutilated flesh that tagged her as a traitor, less than human. Bellatrix sat on the floor at her head, cradling her as if they were once again children and their father delivered their harsh punishments. Bellatrix was humming and rocking Narcissa, a glazed look in her eyes. The humming stopped as her grip tightened.

“If you would just give me one, I could perhaps show that you are breaking. I can’t save your life if you don’t give me anything.” Bellatrix murmured.

“You will never understand, Bella. Never.” Narcissa whispered.

“I didn’t want to have to do this, Cissy. But you leave me no choice.” The mad glint in Bellatrix eyes grew harsh as she visibly steeled herself for whatever she decided she needed to do.

“Bellatrix, what are you doing?”

“Incarcerous.” Ropes shot out of Bellatrix’s wand tying her sister to the floor. Narcissa was spread-eagle, her slow bleeding from her leg making her skin unnaturally white. Bellatrix sat on her chest, her knife back in her hand. With the tip of the blade on Narcissa’s face, she began pleading, hoping that her sister was just trying to scare her. Tears leaked down her cheeks as the blood-warmed blade cut into her tender skin. Once again, Bellatrix began carving. She screamed as each cut burned, the curse keeping the wounds weeping and flowing.

“Give them to me!” Bellatrix screamed in her face, spittle landing in the open wounds on her face. Each fleck was as painful as pouring salt into an open wound.

Bellatrix’s relentless brutal assault on Narcissa’s emotions, body, and mind. The betrayal of the sisterly bond that Narcissa always felt they shared, screwed with her mind, the pain of the assault in triplicate was blurring the lines of reality until she didn’t know who she even was anymore, what she was hiding. Bellatrix crowed as she prized one of Narcissa’s four precious memories out of the clawed fingers of her mind.

Narcissa was throwing priceless heirlooms at Lucius head, her mascara a black runny mess down her cheeks.

“You fucking bastard!” She yelled.

“This changes nothing,” Lucius tried placating her in a low seductive voice. “I am married to you. By my father’s own hand, we are bound to her but you are my wife. She is to be Draco’s wife one day.”

“Only because I had gotten pregnant. What if we hadn’t and you were free to marry her? She is half your age!”

“That means little to nothing in the Wizarding world and you know that. Even if it did, it wouldn’t matter. There is a contract that both my father and hers signed. We will protect her with our very lives if we must.”

“She is Hermione Fucking Granger!” She yelled, for once the silencing charms held. “She is the most sought after Mudblood in this whole war! We will all die! He will see it, he will know!”

“Not if we keep these memories locked away and any others that could give us away.”

“You are so willing to die for her? You, who clearly is lusting after your own son’s bride.”

“Fuck you, Narcissa! Yes, I am attracted to her, knowing what I know now. It is hard to overlook the fact that my father meant for me to marry her and not Draco. It is difficult for me to finally know who I was betrothed to and not wonder, what if. I had always thought it was a shame she wasn’t pureblooded but the fucking joke is on me now, isn’t it? Now we know that if anyone else gets wind of this information before she is married into our family, we risk losing her and becoming slaves ourselves. Do you want Merlin’s only heir to be claimed by Rabastian? Or how about Nott’s boy? No, better yet, lets stand aside as she marries Nott Sr. the man who pushed his wife down the fucking stairs.”

“Don’t you condescend to me Lucius Malfoy. I didn’t get myself pregnant that night in the Slytherin Common room, seventeen years ago!”

“That’s just it, Cissy. I am not leaving you. You have to understand that I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t know!”

“I wonder how Draco is going to feel. Forced to marry the Granger girl, the girl who was once betrothed to his father. He is just going to nod his head and go along with the ride, I am sure.”

“He will not be forced.”

“You know your son so well, do you?”

“He has been half in love with that girl since they were eight.”

“Eight? He didn’t meet her until Hogwarts.”

“Wrong. All of those bonding outings that Father used to take Draco on, were actually fieldtrips to see her.”

“How do you know that?”

“He left me a trunkful of memories to go along with the prophecy and the bloody contract.”

“And now you are in, hook, line, and sinker.”

“I brought them so that you can look at them Cissy. You are a part of this family, no matter how coldly you had been treated by my parents throughout the years.”

“You think I am just going to sit around and watch you live with the regret of not being the one? I won’t do it Lucius.”

“You won’t do what, be her mother-in-law? Get over yourself, Cissy. We are her family. We have a claim on her, Merlin’s protégé.”

“If she is truly ours, then he cannot win this war.”

Lucius gulped. His stern face paling as the true ramifications had just crashed around his head.

“No, he cannot.” He whispered.

“What are we going to do?” She whimpered. “That monster branded our son and I had no way to stop it and you weren’t here. That is with the Malfoy name! how are we to protect her?”

“I’m sorry, Cissy. So, sorry.” He moved to her, drawing her into his arms. “You know what the Dark Lord hides. I suspect the boy knows too and the three of them are searching for them. We know where one is. We need to get it and hand it over to Hermione, before it is too late.”

“He will kill us.”

“Maybe.”

“Do you think the price is worth it?” She asked, her whole body began trembling.

“Yes.”

Narcissa had barely enough strength to keep her last three precious memories behind her mental shields as Bellatrix crowed over her mutilated sisters prone body. Narcissa stared at the legs of the wooden bedframe and idly wondered why she didn’t feel anything. She was numb. There were no roiling emotions, no burning pain from her wounds. In fact, she just felt tired. She didn’t want to fight anymore.

The door flew open and the heavy weight that was Bellatrix Lestrange, flew off of her in seconds. Narcissa felt strong arms encircle hear, his smooth voice screaming profanities at Narcissa’s newest tormentor on the floor. Narcissa had little fight left in her. She barricaded herself behind the mental shields that she had erected all of those years ago. If she was in here, there was no pain, no abuse. She shut herself within her own mind.

In the back of her whirling thoughts, she felt her body be lowered onto a soft surface and a light fluttering touch on her face. She cringed away from the hand, knowing from experience that light touches like that were not given freely. They always came with a price and she knew that she could take no more. Her wound knitted back together, the cursed blade giving her newly created scars an unusual purple and silver gleam.

Snape looked down at Narcissa and had a hard time not sobbing at the horror she had endured at her own sisters’ hand. As her wounds healed and the scars closed, he admired the lines on her face. It was actually quite beautiful. He mused. The silver and purple swirls connected seamlessly over her face. The cuts had been smooth and delicate unlike the horrible word, Blood Traitor, that had been crudely carved into her leg. It was hard to believe that the same person did both carvings only moments apart.

Narcissa’s eyes were wide and staring, the unfocused death that radiated from her, scared him more than anything he had encountered in this war. He was afraid that she was slipping away, that he was going to lose her now, when they were so close to the end.

“Come on, Love.” He murmured in his smooth baritone. “These scars mean only one thing, that you were so strong that they had to do unspeakable things to break your mind.”

“She took one.” Narcissa mumbled slowly.

“Which one?”

A ghost of a smile curved at her lips.

“The one where I threw priceless heirlooms at Lucius’ head.”

“That is a good one.”

She chuckled humorlessly.

“For years, no one broke through the defenses that you helped me erect. Shouldn’t they be more suspicious?”

“Now they are desperate and they don’t care. They just want results.”

“Why did you come for me?” Narcissa asked, switching topics swiftly.

“He summons you to Malfoy Manor.” Snape said. Her breath caught in her throat as the fear coiled in her stomach.

“Are they safe?”

“Oh yes. For now, anyway. They erected all of the wards that are known and more. Combined with their inherent right of owning the Manor… it will not be easy for Voldemort to break through even if he brought four thousand wizards to encircle the property.”

“Four thousand?” She whispered. “So many.”

“He fears Abraxas and for good reason.” Snape added grimly. She nodded, knowing that Abraxas was the only Death Eater that had gotten out, even if it did cost him his life in the end. “Can you stand?”

She shook her head, no but tried to get up anyway. Her hands grasped as his robes, his hands supported her to stand against him.

“We are not done yet. We still have a part to play.” Narcissa said through the haze of pain.

“When this is over,” Snape began before Narcissa cut him off.

“If we live beyond this war, then you can ask me what you were just going to ask. Until then, leave it alone.” She panted.

“Very well. Brace yourself.” He whispered as he apparated them out of the castle and onto the hill that Voldemort occupied.

“My Darling,” Voldemort sneered as Bellatrix peeped at her sister from behind his robes. “Is there something you wish to tell me?”

“No.” Narcissa said as she stared in Voldemort’s face. Hiding three memories would be much easier than hiding five memories. She had already endured more than she thought herself capable of. She would not fail now that she was so close.

“What have you done with my horcrux, Narcissa?”

“Me? Nothing. I never even touched it, My Lord.”

“But you know what happened to it. Did Lucius give it to the little Mudblood that day at the Manor? Is that why your entire family died for her? To see the end of me?”

Narcissa jacked her chin up, offering him only defiance.

“No? Crucio.”

Narcissa was on the ground screaming as Snape clenched and unclenched his fist, unable to do more than merely watch. He couldn’t bear to close his eyes and yet at the same time, watching was slowly tearing him apart. For years, he had to watch this smart, proud, strong woman be degraded. He could feel the blood pounding through his veins in a war cry that he would one day unleash upon his Master. There had to be a world, a time, a place, where this woman was safe and he would create it with his own life if he needed to.

**HGHG**

Hermione and Draco walked into the observation room. Hermione’s eyes went wide, craning her neck as she watched what had drawn the grim attention of Lucius, Abraxas, and Harry.

Voldemort was torturing Narcissa just outside of the wards, her body writhing on the ground. The sunlight threw the purple scars on her face into relief as she jerked on the ground.

“Mother.” Draco breathed, his face white. “What happened to her face?” He choked.

“We have to save her!” Hermione said.

“We cannot save her right now and win this war. There are four thousand wizards attacking the Manor. Severus is there. He will do whatever is possible for her.” Abraxas said.

Hermione pushed between Lucius and Abraxas and took the formers hand in hers. She gave his hand a bit of a squeeze, hoping to convey her sympathy. He untangled their hands and wrapped her in his long arms, resting his head on her curls.

“While we wait, do you want to see some more memories?” Lucius murmured. She nodded her head.

“If there is nothing we can do…”

“There isn’t.” Draco said.

Lucius dug into one of the pockets and inspected each of the five vials he had taken from the other room. At last he chose one and uncorked it, pouring the silvery liquid into the pensieve.

Abraxas stood toe to toe with Tom Riddle. Both young, barely out of Hogwarts. Tom Riddle sneered at his ‘loyal’ follower. The knights bowed to their lord as they awaited his command.

“You can’t just back out now that our plans have begun to take shape. It’s as if the last seven years were a game to you. Something to do while you were at Hogwarts. I thought you were committed to wiping out all of the Muggleborns from our society.”

“My horizons have been broadened. I don’t believe that it will do any good for the wizarding world to cast out the Muggleborns.”

“Did you dip your wick in a Muggleborn honey pot? It that the reason for the change in your fundamental ideals?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“I heard you are slated to marry the Rosier girl. I highly doubt you chose her for yourself. Is there someone else? Someone you intend to keep on the side?”

“No.”

“Then why are you betraying me?” Tom raged.

“Because I don’t believe in this anymore. I can’t do it.”

“You can’t just leave, Malfoy.”

“And you aim to prevent me?” Abraxas shouted.

Wands were raised, each at the others face. The look of uncompromising steel within each.

A nonverbal spell was shot form each wand and a triumphant smile slid over Tom’s face. Abraxas stood as if they had done nothing more than talked of the weather. He stared at Voldemort, their eyes meeting, neither compromising. Abraxas grit his teeth as he held his former masters gaze.

“You are going to crawl back to me one day for a cure and I am going to watch you waste away in agony.”

“If you say so.” Abraxas said as he wrenched his gaze to the floor and turned away, his shoulders back and his spine straight. He left the room that Tom and his knights met in, the looks of shock and confusion over each of Tom’s followers faces as they watched one of their peer’s defect.

The moment he stepped foot outside, he allowed himself to smile triumphantly. Tom may have thought he won tonight. But Abraxas was the true victor. It would take Voldemort many years to realize this. When he did, Abraxas was going to gloat so hard in that bastard’s face. All he had to do was die first. A contingency plan that he had come up with the moment he realized Merlin’s Protégé would be on the opposite side of the oncoming war.

Hermione pulled out of the pensive and looked at Abraxas.

“Which one?” He asked quietly never taking his eyes off of Voldemort and his now focused attention that was on the Manor.

“You defied Tom. You each landed a curse on the other. May I ask, what were the curses?” Hermione questioned.

“The one he landed on me was an incurable form of Dragon Pox that I died of in 1995.”

“And yours?”

“I used Legilimency to see how many horcruxes he made, was planning to make, and where he would hide them.” His lips twitched in amusement as Harry and Hermione both dragged in a surprised gasp of air.

“How many? Did we get them all?” Harry demanded.

“Seven although Dumbledore and I surmised that he inadvertently made you one and aimed to make another. I died shortly after he was resurrected in the graveyard. There was the diary, ring, cup, locket, diadem, you, and Nagini. That is the thing now. Did he create another after I died? It is what we need to know and what Severus is currently working on. It is why he can’t blow his cover by rescuing Narcissa. We have to be sure that Riddle can be destroyed.”

“What are we doing here? Shouldn’t we try and flee?” Harry asked.

“The magic of the wards will be pulled in to protect this room alone. We are just holding out long enough to get an answer from Severus.”

**HGHG**

Narcissa lay forgotten on the ground. Voldemort had moved his attentions on to the wizards who were laying siege to the Manor. She whimpered as she tried to move. She was no stranger to the cruciatus curse and knew that she needed time for her body to adjust. However, time is something they didn’t have. She planted the seed she was supposed to. Now, Voldemort was worried about his horcruxes. It left them swimming on the surface of his mind, allowing Severus to see them.

Severus must have found what he was looking for because he looked straight at the house and smiled before bending down and picking her up. He apparated them into the Manor and began to run through the halls.

“Thank Merlin, they were watching or I would have had a hard time explaining to Voldemort what I was doing if the wards failed to allow me entry.” Severus muttered.

Narcissa set her head on his shoulder and raised her arms to circle his neck.

“Thank you, Severus.” She whispered.

“Always.”

The door to the observation room was opened to them as he strode to the epicenter of the house.

Draco took Narcissa from Severus’ arm and began fussing over her, Hermione casting advanced healing spells over every inch of body she could reach.

“I am so happy that Snape was able to get you out of there. Welcome home!” Hermione said as she worked on the scars on her face.

“They won’t come off.” Narcissa said.

“Who did this to you, Mother?” Draco asked.

“Bellatrix.”

“That damned rabid dog. We should have put her down when she carved into Hermione. My mistake. I’ll make sure to rectify that at the next chance I get.” Lucius growled.

“I’ll help.” Potter said viciously.

“What did you find out, Severus?” Abraxas asked.

“He hasn’t made any more. He believes that his horcruxes are safe. He used the locket’s location to convince himself that no one would be able to figure out how to get there. Well, that was until he saw Abraxas. He knows that you have the ability. Now, he is wondering for how long you have been alive and if you have been the pain in his arse since Dumbledore died, directing the infamous trio from behind the scenes.”

“If we are going to kill him, now would be the time to do it. He has seen me, yes, but he has no idea that the house has been resurrected, nor that Severus is a traitor. Having Potter on our side only solidifies that now is the time.”

“I will fight too.” Hermione said.

“No. We would be too concerned that you would be wounded or captured to be effective. Remember, we are tied to you through the magic of the resurrection spell and the contract that binds us to you. You are the best healer and Narcissa needs you. Draco, you are also staying.”

“No! I am more than capable to fight in this battle!” Draco argued.

“That is true but Lucius and I are better and one of us needs to protect this room. If it falls, the magic of the whole Manor collapses and it would change its allegiance to Riddle. We cannot allow that. This Manor was built by generations of Malfoys for the honor and protection of Hermione. To let it fall would be to spit on a thousand years of toil.” Abraxas argued.

Although Draco didn’t like his role to always stay behind the lines of battle, he understood the necessity of it. What they also didn’t say was that one of the Malfoy men needed to be able to continue the line if the others fell. He capitulated with poor grace. He understood but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“First we have to take out the legion of wizards. Any ideas?” Harry asked.

“Yes, actually. I figured we could send them a gift.” Lucius said.

“A gift?” Harry asked skeptically. Lucius smiled.

**HGHG**

Voldemort was staring at a large wooden horse that had appeared in front of the gates, a huge red ribbon around its neck.

“Is this a fucking joke?” He raged. “Focus on the fucking horse. If there are people inside I want their corpses impaled on spikes and mounted on the hill!”

Almost as one unit, his force of wizards aimed at the wooden animal and began firing spells. As each spell landed on the wooden surface, the wizard who shot the spell disappeared until not one wizard of his fighting force was left.

“What the fuck just happened? Where is Severus?!” Only a handful of his Death Eaters were left. They milled around in confusion, dumbly wondering what happened to their army.

**HGHG**

Hermione was snickering as she watched the whole scene play out.

“You know Lucius, that was a brilliant idea.”

“I can’t really take credit for the spell as it has been handed down in the family for many generations. You see the Malfoys weren’t just amassing wealth and position for you.”

“What are you guys talking about? What just happened?” Asked Harry.

“Every time you cast a spell it leaves a signature of the caster. An essence of their soul if you will. That wooden horse was charmed to follow the essence and capture the witch or wizard who cast the spell.”

“Where did they go?”

Hermione looked at Lucius with her brows raised.

“The Malfoy dungeons, of course.”

“It’s secure?” Harry asked.

“Oh yes, the room that they are sent to is one of the most incredible marvels of the wizarding world. Many renowned wizards have come to study it over the last seven hundred years or so since it had been built.”

“I’ll go down with you later when this is over.” Harry said interested.

“As you wish.”

Those that were intending on entering the fight, left the observation room and apparated to the gates, which were still barred to the vicious despot.

“Tom! It’s been a lifetime, my old friend. Let me introduce you to some of my friends and family. My son, Lucius. Severus, a man who I would be proud to call my son. Harry Potter, the best friend to my soon to be wife. And of course, Myself. The man you swore would die a slow and agonizing death.”

“I killed you.” Voldemort said to Lucius.

“It didn’t take.” Lucius drawled making Severus snort and Harry outright laugh.

“What do you want, Abraxas?” He said ignoring Lucius’ smart mouth.

“Not much. Just your defeat.”

“I can make an alliance with your…family.” He sneered. A shot of dark loathing aimed at his traitorous spy.

“No. Just one duel. You against me. That’s it.”

“You seem confident despite having never won against me.”

“Haven’t I though?” Abraxas cockily answered. Voldemort went pale, his memory obviously going to that one duel where an unknown spell landed on him.

“I have no intention of lowering myself to duel with you, Abraxas Malfoy.” He spat.

Snape apparated to the other side of the gates, behind Voldemort and quickly yet silently erecting wards around them. Voldemort whirled on the balls of his feet and hit Severus with the Cruciatus curse. Stopping whatever he was going to do mid-cast. The force of the hate that fueled the spell knocked Snape to his knees, the veins of his neck bulging with the effort not to fall on his face.

“You dare betray me? Lord Voldemort?” He hissed. He was so focused on Snape’s punishment that he completely missed the moment when his Death Eaters disappeared.

The first spell that his shield was a warning. His red eyes glowed as twin coals, showing the world his soulless state. Harry was standing shoulder to shoulder with the Malfoy men sending a barrage of spells and nasty curses at Voldemort. He laughed as each spell was deflected, his prowess undeniable.

**HGHG**

Hermione watched the play by play in the observation room and grew angry. When had she become this person? She was Hermione Granger for goodness sake. She kept the boys alive for years, had dueled grown men and won. Why was she sitting on the sidelines? With a fire in her eyes she stood and wrenched the door open. Not even waiting when Draco called out to her. She was about to flip her shit.

The moment she cleared the oppressive wards of the observation room, she apparated to the field of battle. She took in the scene, Voldemort was having no problem holding his own against the two Malfoys, Harry, and Snape. There seemed to be an invisible shield wrapped around him that they couldn’t break.

Hermione was furious. Sparks flew from the tip of her hair as she stalked onto the battle field with Draco right behind her. They lifted their wands and added to the magic that charged the air around them. Taking only moments more for the shield to begin cracking. Voldemort’s eyes went wild as he realized he might not win the altercation and began to fight with the intention of retreating. They chased him through the woods, not able to erect anti-apparition spells as they ran. That however, did not prevent them from trying.

Just as the last spell shattered the shield, Voldemort apparated away. Leaving the victors to pant and fume. The group apparated back to the Manor, not one word said between them. Lucius turned on Hermione the moment they entered the door.

“Did it ever occur to you that we needed you to be safe so that we could do what was needed?” He yelled at her.

“Did it ever occur to you that I am a strong and capable woman who could out duel you.”

“Oh sweetheart, is that what you thought?” He purred, his voice getting quieter and quieter as he stalked her across the foyer. Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat at the sight of Lucius Malfoy’s sinuous stalk steering him straight into her path. “Yes, you are a formidable witch and you have always had the potential to be great but I couldn’t hurt you any more than I could do it to myself. The moment I read that contract, I knew. I finally knew why I couldn’t raise my wand against you even though I tried.”

Hermione stood still as if moving an inch would damn her.

“I am not just going to meekly do as you say.” She declared, eyes blazing.

“And I am not going to stop protecting you and getting angry when you put yourself in danger. You are worth more to me than just my life. Why can’t you see that?” He seethed. The others had already gone inside leaving Lucius and Hermione to battle it out. Alone.

“My life is not worth more than anyone else’s.” Hermione mumbled, still holding Lucius’ gaze.

“To me, it is.” He said before claiming her lips. He was passion and need wrapped around a relieved but residual fear. His right hand gripped her hair as his other wrapped around her waist. Swinging her around so that her back was flush to the door, he used his body to trap her against it. He was all long sinuous muscles and grace.

She moaned into his mouth as he hitched one of her legs around his hips, while he began grinding his erection into her center. He devoured her like a man possessed. His tongue tasted the seam of her lips before she parted them, reveling in his groan of satisfaction.

“You drive me to distraction, Witch. No one else has ever made me as crazy as you do.” He murmured against her mouth. Her hands explored his torso, fingertips running lightly over the flexing muscles in his chest. It was very sexy, being held against a wall and snogged senseless.

“When you marry us, I am going to take you just like this against the nearest wall. You are going to be out of your mind with pleasure.”

“Oh, my God!” she gasped as he lightly thrust against her mons through their clothes. She began to roll her hips against his, fighting for more of the friction that was driving her insane. She just needed him…right there. She threw her head back and arched for him, encouraging him to continue his grinding.

Lucius stepped away, holding her upright as she tried to clear the lust from her mind.

“Until that day comes where my name alone affords you protection, I will never stop fighting with you about being in danger. Do not scare me again. I can’t lose you. This is my second chance and I will not waste it.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” She demanded angrily, her aroused body denied any more friction.

“Marry me and you will find out.”

Chapter Text

6

Previously:

“Until that day comes where my name alone affords you protection, I will never stop fighting with you about being in danger. Do not scare me again. I can’t lose you. This is my second chance and I will not waste it.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” She demanded angrily, her aroused body denied any more friction.

“Marry me and you will find out.”

**HGHG**

Bellatrix watched as Lucius held the Mudblood against the door and rolled her upper lip in disgust. It all made sense now, how Lucius never had a good relationship with Narcissa. It also explained why Narcissa was hiding those memories so faithfully. The fool was in love with Lucius still. Bellatrix stayed in the shadows of the corridor and watched as Lucius murmured to his tart, the little whore that panted after him. She wondered how long that was going on for. Did the little slut proposition the dangerous Mr. Malfoy while in school? Lucius should have known better than to allow such filth into his bed and bloodline.

When Lucius pulled away from the Mudblood, Bellatrix followed them further into the Manor. It wouldn’t do, she thought, to not keep an eye on them now that she knew something was going on between them. She relished the moment that she could say ‘I told you so’ to Narcissa. It was a foolish mistake to get caught up in the Malfoys as the Black family soon learned. Bellatrix knew more than most about the state of her sister’s marriage and her nose flared with fury. Surely Narcissa would leave him now. Marry someone actually worthy of one of the famed Black sisters. Oh, but after the way Narcissa had been treated by Voldemort, Bellatrix knew she would have to be sneaky in her plans. Narcissa wouldn’t just find someone else, especially if Lucius was still alive. Besides, The Dark Lord was protective of Cissy’s life, even if he didn’t care about her body and mind. She didn’t think he would actually marry her off. It was one of the many jealousies that Bellatrix harbored for her sister.

Lucius led the way through the parts of the Manor that had always been warded, so that none could get through it, not even realizing they were being followed. Even after they died, no one came through this part of the Manor, the wards having held so very strongly. Bellatrix frowned. How is Lucius, Draco, and Abraxas even alive? She knew them to be dead. Even Gringotts declared them so. How were they here, alive? She asked herself over and over again. She knew that if she could find out the answers to these questions she would unquestionably be rewarded by Voldemort. She dreamed of the day when he would claim her as his mate and not just his second in command.

She could feel the magic of the wards crackle around her as if it were a sentient being. The decorated hallways gave in to hewn stone and the only decoration was a large painting of a warrior. A man that watched her with narrowed eyes.

“Well, well, well,” Sigurd purred. “what do we have here?”

“Who are you?” Bellatrix demanded.

“I am the founder of this house. You are here without invitation. You are a trespasser.”

“Why haven’t you ratted me out yet?”

“I plan to.” Sigurd lazily motioned to a painting she could neither see nor trace. His narrowed gaze watched what she was planning and widened his eyes as she raised her wand to his painting.

With a flourish of her wand, Bellatrix bared her teeth as a feral dog would and watched as Sigurd’s painting bubbled and boiled. The man himself fleeing into the unseen painting elsewhere. His voice carried out of his original piece once more.

“What is this?” he hissed.

“Alohomora.” She muttered ignoring him. Sigurd’s painting continued to be destroyed as Bellatrix strode into the prophecy room. Her smile was exuberant as she took in the rows after rows of silvery memories. Her hands reached out to the nearest ones and began stuffing them into her robes. The woman was nearly dancing as the clink of crystal vials filled the air.

She felt the tingle of magic swirl around her as the room imploded, throwing her and the memories across the room. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of her lips.

**HGHG**

The whole house rocked with the force of the explosion. Abraxas and Lucius were diligently trying to find out a cause. They searched the perimeter of the house, the magical signatures around it and began arguing various theories. Each more fantastic than the next.

“There!” Abraxas said. He was pointing to a room that was right next to theirs. There was a small flicker of life huddled so close to the wall that Narcissa’s cot was against that they nearly missed it.

“I will go check it out.” Lucius straightened his shoulders and walked out of the room followed closely by Abraxas.

They had only been gone moments before Narcissa seized, convulsing on the small cot they had put her on after she was rescued. Snape was in action the moment Narcissa lost control of her body. Hermione was right behind him. Snape cast a full body bind and watched as she slipped into a coma.

He cast a diagnostic charm that would have any special effects creator in the movie industry salivating. Her internal body structure was floating above her, lit up in different colors. The organs and blood flow moved in real time as Snape traced and searched for whatever was causing Narcissa’s illness.

He was snarling to himself, his eyes focus and piercing as his brow furrowed in concern.

“I don’t see anything wrong with her.” Hermione murmured, also searching over Narcissa diagnostic image.

“That is exactly why I am concerned.” He growled at her as if she were incompetent and stupid. He made it seem like he had already come to a conclusion that she was too slow to see.

“Well, spit it out.” She growled back.

“Think, Granger! She had been tortured, mind and body for years and yet her body is pristine? How is that possible?”

“Oh.” She breathed, thinking. Her face lit up as she looked at him, obviously having thought of something. “Magic!” She blurted, her eyes a bit manic.

“Magic.” Snape deadpanned, lifting a single brow indicating that he thought she was a complete idiot.

“Yes! And don’t look at me like that!” she angrily spat. “I mean that we should check her magical flow. Can you do that?”

With a snap of his wrist the image changed into webs of golden lines pulsing throughout her body, the only hitch was at her core, a tangled nest of glittering black.

“What is that?” Hermione whispered.

“I have no idea.” He muttered, his wand making continuous passes over the diseased web.

**HGHG**

Abraxas and Lucius let the door click shut behind them as they stared at the utter destruction of the Manor. The only thing that kept the room intact was the warding magic that protected it. The two Malfoy men looked out into the empty grounds of their land, the whole of the house in rubble at the foundations. They slowly edged along the inner wall on the ledge that once led to the prophecy room. Magic was unquestionably the only thing that kept them from tumbling to their deaths.

As they approached the door, Abraxas stared at Sigurd’s ruined painting in horror.  The ancient oak frame was splintered and broken, whole chunks missing from the heavy door. The paint looked as if it had boiled, the bubbles popping and splattering at will on its face.

“What the hell happened?” Abraxas murmured, removing the painting from the doorway and setting it against the wall. He clenched his teeth. Sigurd was such an integral part of the Malfoy line that he couldn’t bear to leave his beloved ancestors painting such a mess.

Lucius edged into the room. It looked as if a giant had come and ripped the building away from this room. Half of the room was just gone. Silver liquid splashed on the broken surfaces and edges of the building. The wall that was shared with the observation room held, also leaving enough floor to walk across if one had a death wish and a strong constitution.

Lucius bared his teeth in a primal growl as he spied the witch who had infiltrated the Manor. Bellatrix Lestrange was unconscious, blood dripping from both nostrils and a red puddle spread beneath her comatose body as the wound on her head continued to bleed unchecked.

“Do you think you can still make it to the dungeons?” Lucius asked Abraxas.

“All three of us will have to go but I really don’t think we should take Hermione and that means leaving her with Severus and Potter. If another blast comes of this raw magic, we will most likely be separated and unable to get back to the observation room. That will leave us all vulnerable.”

“Does it have to be all of us?”

“I think it will take all three of us to open the obsidian door.” Abraxas confirmed. Lucius didn’t need to be told that it was one of the magics that had been laced in the door at the inception of the creation for the room. Their ancestors needed a place for their enemies that could never be taken, even in the case that the Manor would fall. It would need every living Malfoy’s blood to coax it open.

Abraxas flicked his wand in Bellatrix direction and watched as iron chains bound the witch from head to toe. Lucius raised his eyebrows in silent question to Abraxas.

“She has been a pain in my arse for years.” Abraxas muttered, not caring a bit that the chains were wrapped rather tightly. So tightly in fact, that they nearly cut of circulation to her extremities. “I will enjoy showing her our dungeon, I think.” He mused to himself.

“She has wronged me and mine. I will have her blood.” Lucius growled, glaring at his father.

“Watch and learn, Son,” Abraxas smirked. “exacting revenge and information is a specialty of mine. A little something that I picked up over the years of playing this little game between Riddle and me.”

**HGHG**

Hermione was still watching the ebb and flow of Narcissa’s magic. It drew her in as if it were a siren and she, a sailor, in the treacherous seas. Her eyes kept getting pulled back to the small black nodule that thousands of golden lines converged at, as if it were the epicenter of her being.

“Harry, can you come here?” Hermione asked over her shoulder, not even dragging her eyes away from Narcissa’s magical flow. He was beside her in seconds, leaving Draco alone to watch the grounds of the Malfoy estate. “Snape, can you run the same diagnostic on Harry?”

With a barely perceptible nod from the focused man, Hermione pushed Harry onto the cot next to Narcissa and laid a hand on his chest to keep him still as Snape waved his wand over him. Hermione barely contained her surprise and wonder as the glittering gold lines weaved and flowed over Harry’s body. His magical pulse was bright and strong, his magical core nearly too dazzling to look at. It was magnificent. Hermione noticed the differences right off. Narcissa’s magic, though gold, was lackluster in comparison to Harry’s. His shined in a way that made her think of better times, where they were all safely ensconced at Hogwarts and largely protected from the tides of war that overtook them in the end.

In the same place that Narcissa’s black nodule rested, was the greatest vein and pulse point in Harry’s magic. If she had to equate it to anything, she would use the heart as a reference point. The blood is pumped and moved through great arteries and chambers. That is how it looked with Harry’s magic. The veins large and small converged but flowed out naturally. Narcissa’s magical veins flowed into the black node and never flowed back out.

“Do you see what I am seeing?” Hermione asked Snape. His eyes were riveted on the place in Harry’s magical core that Narcissa’s node sat.

“What is it that you think you see?” He murmured.

“I need to go to the library.” Hermione said, ignoring Snape. She was almost in awe of the various interconnecting webs that showed their magic.

“Sorry sweetheart,” Draco murmured from where he stood next to the glowing orb on the pedestal. “I think we are going to have to rebuild that part of the Manor for you. It seems to have been obliterated.”

She twisted her body around quickly, her curls whipping Snape in the face. He spluttered and glared at her but she was focused wholly on Draco.

“Obliterated?” She asked wide eyed.

“We will know more when Abraxas and Lucius get back but if I had to make a guess, I would say the only part of the house still standing is this room and the ones underneath it, supporting it.”

“How did that happen?” She asked. Draco shrugged. At this point he knew as much as they did.

“What are we going to do about Narcissa? Is there anyone you know that is still alive and has the knowledge to heal this?”

Snape shook his head, deep in thought. The door opened as Abraxas and Lucius walked in carrying Sigurd’s door between them.

“Oh, Sigurd.” Hermione murmured sadly. “Will you be able to fix him?” she asked them.

“Maybe.” Lucius said as they set the wooden panel against the wall.

Abraxas walked up to Draco and muttered something in his ear, both looking grim as he pulled away.

“Can’t you just kill her?” Draco whispered just loudly enough for Hermione to overhear.

“She is his second in command. My guess is that she has a lot of information. Things that would be beneficial to us.”

Lucius walked over to Hermione setting his large hand in the cradle of her neck and shoulders. His thumb rubbing lightly the skin on her neck. The touch made her shiver as she remembered how volatile he was when angry, as he pressed her into the door and made her feel things she had never felt before. Things that she wanted to feel again.

“What’s this?” Lucius asked. He was a knowledgeable wizard that knew what he was seeing but not the why, which is what Hermione assumed he meant.

“When you and Abraxas left the room, Narcissa had a seizure. Snape’s diagnostics indicated nothing was wrong so we switched to magical flow. That is when we found that.” Hermione indicated the black node in Narcissa’s magical core.

“And Potter?” He asked, still staring intensely at the black nodule.

“He is my control. What a normal magical flow looks like.”

“His isn’t normal either.” Lucius muttered.

“What do you mean?” Snape asked, looking up from the two magical cores for the first time since Hermione’s hair whipped him in the face.

“Look at how brilliant his magic is, how pure. Look at the speed of regeneration. If Narcissa’s is diseased, Potter’s is on steroids.” he said pointing at the epicenter on Harry. “On a normal person, that vein is not one large ventricle but millions of tiny interconnecting veins that give and take magic all over the body.”

“What does that mean?” Hermione asked him, breathing in his scent as he leaned over her to study their magical flows closer.

“I am not sure. Not yet, anyway.” He frowned and leaned back, once again rubbing Hermione’s neck. He looked at Snape, a heavy silence and unspoken messages between them. “We need to leave Potter, Hermione, and Narcissa with you. It will leave this room and the entire rest of the Manor vulnerable. You will need to be on your guard.”

“I do not need a babysitter.” Hermione huffed. All the men in the room ignored her.

“I will keep them safe. The vow I made to you that year before you died, still holds. Maybe not magically but we are as good as brothers, are we not?” Snape held Lucius’ silver gaze. Lucius smirked, sparing only enough time to lean down and kiss Hermione on her jaw before backing away and leaning in to take quietly to Abraxas.

“I don’t need a babysitter!” She said louder.

“We know that Sweetheart,” Draco said from across the room, looking conciliatory, his hands in front of him as if she were a wild animal. “My mother needs you here. That is why we didn’t ask you to come with us.”

“That and we didn’t want her to go.” Muttered Abraxas. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. He raised his brow refusing to back down.

“My point is,” Draco began a bit louder, shooting annoyed looks at Abraxas. “that we need you here. If that were not the case I know you well enough to know that you would be right next to me, refusing to be left behind. Can you stay? To help my Mum?” His eyes were wide and pleading, the tips of his ears and cheeks coloring pink as everyone watched him plead with her to stay behind.

“I’ll stay.” She agreed with a displeased sigh. He smiled and moved across the room, leaning over and wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

“Thank you.” He murmured into her ear, causing her to blush too, as his lips grazed the shell of her ear. He was just as pink as she was when he pulled away, refusing to meet the amused gazes of Abraxas, Lucius, and unfortunately Snape. Harry’s eyebrows were in his hairline, not even sure how to react to it at all. He had never seen this side of Draco. To be honest, neither had Hermione.

“Hermione, a word?” Abraxas asked as Draco and Lucius walked out of the door first. It was their job to retrieve Bellatrix and meet him down on top of the rubble so they could find their way through to the torture chamber that sat several stories deep under the only room left standing. The room darkened as the orb lay dormant on the pedestal.

She left Harry and Snape alone with Narcissa but kept shooting them nervous looks. Their animosity was personal and she didn’t trust them not to go off on each other without a buffer. Abraxas pulled her into the farthest corner of the room and pushed her lightly into the darkened corner, his large body covering hers.

She took a deep breath as he took over her space. His hands rose to either side of her head, caging her in. He leaned in slowly as if trying not to spook her or to engulf her in flames of desire. It was hard to tell. Her breathing hitched as she watched his full teasing lips come closer and closer.

“You wanted to talk to me.” She barely whispered. She watched as the corners of his lips tilted up, his masculine arrogance showing in every line of his body.

“I really just wanted to get you alone.” He purred.

“We aren’t alone. Harry and Snape are right over there.”

“They can’t see anything, Love.” Her golden eyes locked with his. She could barely breathe with him so close, so intense. She felt arousal swirl in her stomach as he inched nearer. She couldn’t look away from him, from those lips.

“I thought you were going with Lucius and Draco.” She murmured.

“Trying to get rid of me?” she could hear the amusement in his tone as his nose rested just under her ear. He inhaled her scent, his lips moving lightly against her neck as he replied.

“No.” She wasn’t sure if she actually said it or thought it, but it didn’t matter. He turned his head, his lush lips sucking and tasting her skin, setting her whole body on fire.

“Merlin.” She choked quietly and his deeply satisfied male chuckle reverberated around the room.

“We shouldn’t be gone long, Love.” He pulled back and used his fingers to touch the red mark he left on her skin. His eyes were burning. A promise that they would continue this ‘chat’ at a later date. The anticipation had butterflies erupting in her stomach. She braced herself against the wall as he pulled away from her and to the door. His maddening smirk still firmly in place as he walked out of the door.

Hermione slid down the wall in a daze. She stared into the dark abyss of the room, the only light was the glow of Harry and Narcissa’s magical cores alight above their bodies. Lucius had disabled the small orb that allowed them to look on to the grounds. Either that or it wouldn’t work without a Malfoy in the room. Either way, she sat on the floor a figurative pile of goo as she remembered the feeling of his mouth on her skin. She reached up and touched the spot he had claimed. A smile tugging at her lips.

“If you are done mooning over there, you could make yourself useful and come back over here.” Snape barked. Hermione stood and dusted off the back of her robes, slightly smiling as she reentered the glowing light of the pulsing magic.

**HGHG**

The Malfoy men were grumbling and in terrible moods by the time they found the small caved in passage that was supposedly the indestructible tunnel that led to and from the torture chamber. They had been searching among the gravel and debris for the last hour, having to constantly stop and keep their prisoner unconscious while simultaneously trying to remember an obscure part of the house that was never used. When they finally found the tunnel and realized that, yes, the indestructible shaft had indeed collapsed, tempers were running at an all-time high. They were sniping at each other as two worked clearing the wreckage and one trained his wand on the unpredictable yet resourceful witch that they all loathed vehemently. It wasn’t just about watching her though, there was also the fact that they were out in the open and they still didn’t know what had caused the Manor to become in the state it currently was in to begin with. One problem at a time.

Clearing the passageway was arduous and it took them longer than they would have liked but they were not overcome by enemy forces nor had they any sign that Voldemort had returned to finish them off. All three of them were sweating, robes had been discarded, oxfords had been partially unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled to their elbows. Their black trousers were dirt covered and ruined, the fine material not able to hold up under the manual labor.

Lucius floated Bellatrix at his side while Abraxas led the way, Draco taking the rear when they finally reached the smooth shiny black door. Abraxas tried opening it alone but as it stood barred he knew that it would take blood from all three of them to open it. Perhaps it would have been different if it wasn’t currently full of enemies waiting for their jailer to begin their interrogation sessions.

The three of them stood at the door. Lucius had laid Bellatrix down none too gently as they each nicked their own fingers, letting a bead of dark red blood flow as they gave the door its blood price.

The moment that the door was opened a great groaning filled the cavernous space of the passageway. Abraxas walked in first, his brow nearly in his hair line.

“Well,” He drawled. “this is new.”

Great cubes of cages rose from the floor in stacks. Five wizards per cage and eight hundred cages. Cages were stacked on top of each other, going as high as five cubes. The room had a musky smell, as if they had kept magnificent beasts in the enclosures for years. Lucius wrinkled his nose as Draco pinched his, only Abraxas acting as if the human stench was nothing but fresh air. The room was stifling and stagnant, the only fresh air was what came in with the Malfoys. It had already been used and recycled back before the door had even shut behind them.

Two men stared at the newcomers from the places mounted on the wall, where they had been ever since Abraxas had lured them in with promises of grand feasts and treats for the Manor’s grand kitchens.

“Crabbe, Goyle?” Draco asked, mildly shocked to find his old chums in his family’s personal hellhole.

“How are you alive?” Crabbe asked, eyes round with fear.

“We will ask the questions here.” Abraxas boomed, his voice unnaturally loud in the room that created the echo for him. The room, after all, was semi-sentient and its only goal was to please its owner. In this case, the patriarch, Abraxas Malfoy. The room need not be asked. It was built so that the owner would only need think of what he wanted with the intention of following through. It is what made the chamber such a marvel because intentions are not always what happens in the real world.

Wizards called from their cages, their begging filled the air.

“Malfoy, please! I will do anything! Just let me go!” It was a chorus of men who feared being broken, men who feared the unknown variable in the equation in which a Malfoy held the reins. The Malfoy men were not notorious for their mercy.

The three men ignored their caged prisoners as they brought Bellatrix in and secured her to a table in the center of the room where everyone could see. The cages stank with fear and the room noticeably warmed.

Sweat was already beading the Malfoy’s brows as the last restraint was placed. Draco stood at his aunt’s feet and clenched his wand tightly. His mind was a parade of all of the horrible things she had done to his family.

“Enervate.” Abraxas chanted as if the spell were an old lover.

Bellatrix’s’ eyes flew open, indignation pouring from every pore on her body.

“Let me go.” She growled.

“Of course, Bellatrix. Just as soon as we exact the blood price that you owe us. You failed to protect your sister, even going so far as to mar her body and ravage her mind. You tortured Hermione, our betrothed. You defaced an invaluable painting that we can only hope to restore, and that, is only the beginning.” Lucius started.

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes in warning.

“You destroyed my sister. All of those years that you treated her with disregard and neglect broke her! You reap what you sow, Lucius Malfoy.”

“Perhaps,” He murmured, his eyes cold as ice. “but that doesn’t make you any less a monster. I may be a terrible husband but you… you are the one that broke her. You with your love of the Dark Lord and your disregard for the only person that Narcissa loved, your nephew, Draco. Narcissa gave up everything for him, for us. And even if I wasn’t the ideal husband to her, I loved her in my own way. You hurt her more than I ever did.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to excuse your interest in that Mudblood whore? I saw you. Your hands were all over her as she panted like the little tart she is and while Narcissa is still alive too.” Her lips twisted with derision as she spewed her venom despite being the one strapped to the table.

“Speaking of Narcissa,” Abraxas focused his gaze on the woman who once had been a happy child, running around the gardens at the manors of their peers. That was so long ago, a distant memory that was like vapor and smoke. It was a fleeting memory that left the moment she opened her mouth. “What did he do to her?”

“Who?”

“Your Dark Lord.” Abraxas sneered.

“What didn’t he do to her.” She said.

“Something is wrong with her magic.”

A loud masculine throat cleared from one of the cages. Yaxley pressed himself to the iron bars, his face cradled in between them.

“I know what he did to her.”

“And?” Abraxas drawled.

“Please,” He begged. “let me out of here and I will tell you everything I know.”

“How do I know, that you know anything at all?”

“I was there! I helped research the spell.”

“Go on…” Abraxas said.

“Please.” He begged.

Abraxas sauntered back to the cage that held Yaxley and stood just out of reach.

“Did you touch Narcissa?” Abraxas questioned, watching as Yaxley’s face drained color. Even the unnatural flush from the heat of the room and the packed cages filled with people, disappeared under Abraxas’ intense gaze and nondescript smile.

“I,” he stammered.

“I see.” Abraxas turned, dismissing the panicked Yaxley and took the first step back to the interrogation table.

“Wait! I’m sorry! Please! Don’t leave me in here! I will tell you whatever you want to know!”

“Then start talking.”

Yaxley licked his parched lips and his eyes nervously roved the area around them. He lowered his voice, knowing that every person in the room knew that he was now a betrayer, a traitor to his Lord.

“He magically linked them. He is like a parasite on her magic and he can draw on her from where ever she is. No matter the distance. The more he draws at once, the weaker she gets. He used to experiment then wipe her mind. She would spend days unconscious or was forced to do things that no one should be forced to do. He craved that control of her. None of us dared interfere. We didn’t want to offer up our own wives and daughters in her place and he found it amusing to offer her as a reward. Some of us wanted nothing to do with it but when the Dark Lord gifts you a fuck with his own personal slave, you do not say no, even if you have to spend the hour beforehand edging, so that you stay hard enough not to disgrace yourself in front of him.”

“I see.” Abraxas said in his knowing voice.

“Shut the hell up, Yaxley!” Bellatrix threatened.

“Will you let me out?” Yaxley begged again.

“I think not.” Abraxas said as he walked away from the screams that held terror and begging. It wasn’t long before his cell mates had circled him. No one missed the heavy thuds and grunts of the beating that Yaxley was now receiving from his brethren. Abraxas hadn’t even made it back to the table that Bellatrix was bound to before Yaxley started sobbing, the wet sound of blood covered fists pounding into already tortured flesh, rolling the stomachs of the weakest of Voldemort’s disciples. The smell of vomit filled the air.

Abraxas met Draco’s wide eyes.

“There will come a day when this is not necessary. When Riddle is destroyed but that day will not be today or tomorrow or even next week. The day he is destroyed we can put down these burdens until then, this is something that we have to do to get information. It is not always about what we want to do but what is most helpful for our cause.”

“Doesn’t that make us like him? Monsters?”

“These wizards are glorifying the types depravity that only the most debauched and vile of criminals commit. You didn’t see what they were doing when we saved Harry or who they were doing it to. I don’t know any other way to get information. If you have a better way, by all means.”

“Can’t we just talk to them?” Draco asked. Abraxas pulled him from the room and waited until the obsidian door slid shut.

“Isn’t that what we are doing? I have not touched them nor tortured them. I have insinuated things. I have asked questions but other than that I have done nothing.”

“They will kill Yaxley.”

“Because he is a traitor and he did horrible things to your mother. Should we save him then? Let him go?”

“No.”

Abraxas sighed and put a hand on Draco’s shoulder.

“Interrogation is not for everyone. It is something that I am well versed in and excel in. If you would prefer to go back to Hermione, we will not think any less of you.”

“The cages…” Draco whispered.

“I have never seen the room do that. Then again, I have never had so many prisoners at once in here. The room does what it needs to do, to be most efficient at breaking them. It is a torture chamber.” Abraxas said. Draco nodded, his eyes staring unseeing into the darkness that surrounded them. “What do you want to do?”

“I will stay.” He whispered, his face going slightly green. “Maybe, it wouldn’t hurt to learn this.”

Abraxas and Draco reentered the room, Lucius standing at Bellatrix’s head as she thrashed around. He was laughing at her. The humiliation made her furious and the angrier she got, the harder she fought, the more Lucius laughed.

Abraxas caught Lucius’ eye. Lucius moved back from her sight and stood slightly in the shadows, Draco walking to stand next to him as Abraxas approached the furious witch.

“What is Riddle planning?” He murmured at the still thrashing general.

“Nothing. He has what he wants.” She sneered.

“I highly doubt that. Tom was always too ambitious for his own good.”

They stared at each other, fire meeting ice.

“He is a loose cannon, acting more and more erratically. Isn’t he?” Abraxas purred.

Her face froze. Abraxas was watching her closely. Every flutter of her eyelids seemed to indicate something, each facial twitch seemed to reveal a deeply hidden secret. He was smiling victoriously. She resumed her furious thrashing, lifting her head and snapping her teeth in his amused face.

**HGHG**

Voldemort stood on the rise that he had been defeated on only hours earlier and grinned. The ruined shell of Malfoy Manor gleamed in the moonlight. He took a deep breath as he drew on the magical reserves of his host. Narcissa’s well of magic ran deep and steady. He reveled in the fact that she was his for eternity. They may have her body but she would always be his.

He walked slowly onto the unwarded property and using the shadows and darkness to cover his advancement, the small contingent of his inner circle followed closely behind him. His eyes were focused on the one room left standing. The threads of magic that bound Narcissa to him drew him to where she was. He had many goals in mind but the most important was retrieving his host, Hermione, and his traitor, Snape.

Harry Potter was only a small niggling annoyance in the back of his mind. And the Malfoys… The Malfoys were an unexpected complication. With the amount of effort it took to eradicate them the first time, he was certain that they would become the biggest pains in his arse, even more so than Harry Potter had ever been.

His most loyal followers encircled the only standing part of the building and watched as their master approached the doorway, a cruel smile on their lips.

The stone from the hallway crunched under his feet as he raised his wand and blasted the door out of his way. Snape was on his feet in seconds, casting a shield that would make anyone cocky. Potter and Hermione scrambled behind him, raising their own. Voldemort smiled wickedly. This was perfect. Everyone he wanted was all together in this one room. Even the Malfoys were out of his way. He decided it must be providence, the universe conspiring in his favor. He released a deep, dark chuckle.

Chapter Text

7

Previously:

The stone from the hallway crunched under Voldemort’s feet as he raised his wand and blasted the door out of his way. Snape was on his feet in seconds, casting a shield that would make anyone cocky. Potter and Hermione scrambled behind him, raising their own. Voldemort smiled wickedly. This was perfect. Everyone he wanted was all together in this one room. Even the Malfoys were out of his way. He decided it must be providence, the universe conspiring in his favor. He released a deep, dark chuckle.

**HGHG**

Voldemort’s dark gaze slid past Potter and Snape to pin Hermione from where she stood to Severus’ right. He studied her. Her face was fierce and proud, her wand was held confidently and he knew she could and would wield it with accuracy and skill. The anticipation of finally having her in his grasp was nearly overwhelming. He had grand plans for her.

“Severus,” Voldemort hissed.

“Yes?”

“shouldn’t you be kneeling in front of me begging for my forgiveness?” Voldemort’s velvet voice echoed around the room. He pierced his former spy with a stare that made Hermione’s skin crawl. Gazing at the still form of Narcissa laying on the cot and noticing the way Snape stood almost in front of her as a protector, Voldemort’s snort filled the air with amusement. “It was always a girl with you. First Lily Potter, and now Narcissa, my leftovers. I really pity you Severus, always falling in love with unattainable women.”

Snape clenched his teeth, it was the only indication of his anger.

“Hand over Hermione and all will be forgiven.” Voldemort purred.

“Over my dead body!” Harry yelled.

“That,” he whispered. “would be my pleasure. You have no one else to stand in your stead now. Not even your blood-traitor best friend, what was his name? Roland?”

“Ronald.” Hermione spat. Voldemort waved the information off as inconsequential. It made Hermione see red.

“This is your last chance. Send Hermione with me and I will leave all of you in peace. I will even leave Narcissa in your care, permanently.”

“And if we refuse?” Harry demanded. Hermione glanced at Snape from the corner of her eyes and could have sworn the man rolled his eyes.

“Then I will kill you and take her anyway.”

“Then I suppose we have no choice but to fight you.”

Harry cast first. His stupefy landed squarely in the center of the chest of one of Voldemort’s goons. He collapsed to the ground at Voldemort’s feet. The only reaction Voldemort had was to laugh as he stepped further into the room. He nonverbally cast a very strong bombarda at Snape, Hermione, and Harry. Knowing that Snape’s shield would protect them enough that they would all survive but hopefully knock them out.

Hermione gasped as the spell hit their shields. It pushed them backwards towards Narcissa’s cot. The room around them absorbed the explosion, rocking the remaining tower of rooms, namely the one they were in and those below it. The only person still standing when the dust settled was Voldemort. Snape had collapsed on top of Harry, unconscious as he took the brunt of the spell. Hermione scrambled to get to her feet but collapsed back onto her bum as she realized that her ankle was broken. She lifted her wand and once again raised a shield to protect not only her but everyone else too. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him for even one moment.

Voldemort chuckled, slowly moving forward through the splintered room. Harry was gasping, trying to shove Snape off of him so that he could help Hermione but his wand arm was pinned and unless Snape woke up on his own, it seemed as if Hermione’s only hope was if the Malfoys came back.

“I have knowledge that you could only dream of. I could teach you things. Be my apprentice and I can open up a whole world to you.” He cajoled.

Hermione shook her head. The room was spinning around her and she feared that she had hit her head during her fall. Answering him was extremely low on her list of priorities but she knew that she could not hold him off forever. She hoped that Snape would come around soon.

“You would throw away the chance to learn from an uncontested master like me? It is extremely foolish to bite the friendly hand extended to you.”

“Friendly,” Hermione chuckled, her stomach rising up into her throat. “don’t make me laugh. You have been hunting me, trying to kill me for years. Why change things now?”

“I’ve been trying to kill Potter for years but not you, not for a long time.”

“Why?”

“When I took over the ministry, the Muggle-born Registration Committee took it upon themselves to research the familial lines of the muggle-borns. When I was presented with your file, I was shocked to learn that you hail from not one but two powerful and nearly extinct lines. Funny that you are the first witch on both sides since the original divergence. You are Merlin’s only heir and surprisingly enough, you belong to the Gaunts. And that makes you mine.”

“No!” Hermione protested. “I belong to myself.”

Hermione heard a commotion from outside of the room but Voldemort ignored it and Hermione surmised that if she took her attention off of him for even one moment, she would be lost.

“Don’t be naive, Hermione. Everyone belongs to their family names even if they are in denial. You are a Gaunt, Merlin’s heir, and since I am the only other Gaunt not to mention your elder, I am your paterfamilias. The moment I knew who you were, I enacted the ancient laws. You belong to me until you marry and you can’t even do that without my consent. The things we could accomplish together…”

Hermione humorlessly laughed. It was a raw, angry sound that filled the air.

“That is why you killed my parents. While they were still alive, you had no power over me. But the joke is on you. Abraxas Malfoy contracted my betrothal to Draco with my father the day after I received my Hogwarts letter.”

“And then the Malfoys died, breaking every contract they had made.”

“Maybe… but then I resurrected them.”

“It was you?” He muttered murderously. Taking a step forward, he began to crowd her space, forcing her to strengthen her shield. She felt the faster drain on her magic as she kept him at bay.

“They are mine and I am theirs.” She said as sweat rolled down her face.

Both, Voldemort and Hermione whipped their heads to the doorway as Abraxas Malfoy sauntered in followed by Lucius and Draco. All three of them looked proud, powerful, and pissed as hell. The room lit up the moment Abraxas stepped in, the wards started to reengage. If they could keep him there for just a few more minutes, they would successfully trap Voldemort inside with them.

“Tom Riddle, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?” Abraxas smoothly inquired as if they were friends.

“I’ve come to visit my cousin and offer her the chance to learn from a real master. You need not concern yourself, Malfoy.”

“She is as close a cousin to you, as she is to us. You have no legitimate claim to her.” Abraxas paused, strolling closer to Voldemort. He leaned in as if imparting a great secret. “But we do. She will be our wife and we protect our own.”

“I see.”

“Do you? Because I am not sure you do.” Abraxas smirked. “Do you want to know which spell she used to bring us back? Are you curious?”

Voldemort took another step closer to Hermione. She kept her shield raised despite the strain to her magic. With each step back, she weakened, hoping that when it failed her, Voldemort would no longer be a threat. Another step back put him right next to her, so close that she could feel the raw magic miasma that encased his mortal body. The only thing separating her knees from his booted feet was the thin layer of her flagging magic that she was willing into being by sheer stubbornness alone.

“Enlighten me.” Voldemort muttered. He slid one of his feet back until he was touching her, her shield flickered and failed. Her breath caught in fear. There was nothing between them now.

“She used Constituendum dynastia.” Abraxas moved forward, keeping Hermione in his line of sight despite Voldemort’s proximity. “When I was pulled, I can’t tell you how excited I was. To have the chance to marry and bed such a woman…” He trailed off. “Not that you care about that if you are trying to claim her as her paterfamilias.”

“When I send you back to Hell where you came from, she will be free of the lot of you.”

“I think you will find it much more difficult these days, to go against me and win, Riddle.”

“You have been dead for so long that I think you forget exactly who you are dealing with.” Voldemort said with a smirk.

Understanding flared in Hermione as she struggled to move back even an inch from the deadly wizard. She couldn’t allow him to touch her. She internally groaned when she felt the beam hit her back as she scooted. There was not enough space between them. She tried to catch Abraxas’ eye but he was wholly focused on the threat that was Voldemort.  

Voldemort whirled around, grabbing Hermione’s robes in a tight grip. She could feel the summoning of power as he apparated them out of the last standing part of the Manor. The last thing she saw was Draco’s horrified face as Hermione’s wand was knocked from her hand as it slid across the floor. Not only was she in enemy hands, she was also defenseless. Bile rose in her throat as they landed at the gates of Hogwarts.

“The universe has spoken, Hermione. The laws of magic and nature have combined to give me exactly what I want.” He laughed. He moved forward dragging her along in his wake. She took only two steps before she was back on the ground. He stopped and looked down at her, a smile still on his face.

“I think my leg is broken.” Hermione murmured, looking away from his glowing eyes.

“Beg me.”

“Never!” She replied viciously. His smile widened and turned nasty. He leaned down in her face.

“Beg for my help.”

“No!”

“Very well.” He calmly replied. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and began dragging her across the ground. She screamed as her scalp burned, a clump pulled away, bloody at the roots. Once they crossed the threshold of the gates, he released her. “I have erected wards that will enable you a certain amount of freedom within the grounds. Now wasn’t that kind of me?”

“Meaning I can’t leave, even if I wanted too?”

“Always looking on the negative side of things. Look at it this way, no one will bother you here. You are under my protection. Study, form connections, eat well, campaign for the rights of the underprivileged, I don’t care. Just know that if you try to leave, I will take away all of the freedoms I have bestowed on you.”

“You have been after me too long to think that you just want me near. What are your plans for me?”

“Well, Hermione, if you do as you’re told, maybe I will tell you someday. Until then, you will do as I say.”

They both stared at each other.

“How am I supposed to get to the castle?” She asked through clenched teeth.

“I am glad you asked. You have two options, you could beg me to heal your leg,” He smirked. “or he can carry you.” Voldemort said as he gestured to Dolohov, who had obviously come the moment Voldemort stepped across the wards.

“Or I could just stay here.” She announced stubbornly.

“No, I think not, my Darling cousin. If you do not beg me to heal you, you will not be healed at all and then Dolohov will have to carry you everywhere, even to the loo.”

“I will crawl.”

Voldemort squatted in front of her. He reached out and fingered one of her curly tresses, watching the curl unfurl before springing back after its release. He met her eyes as he let go of her hair and grabbed her broken ankle. She hissed with pain and rage as he began nonverbally casting something nasty over her body. Moments later he pulled back, a satisfied smile set on his face.

“Dolohov, it is.” He stood back up, nodding at his henchman.

“What did you do to me?” Hermione growled. He walked away as Dolohov drew nearer. “What did you do to me?” She screamed at his retreating back. He stopped and turned around after moving several yards away.

“I only ensured that your leg would never mend without me healing you. If I were you, Hermione, I would work on your begging skills. Because when you finally see things my way, you are going to regret that you did not beg me when it was just you and me. You will be forced to beg me in front of everyone.” He rubbed his hands together. “I can hardly wait.” He started walking to the castle once more, leaving Hermione at Dolohov’s mercy.

Dolohov leaned down, intending to pick her up but she slapped him away. He released a stream of curses in Russian before roughly jolting her hurt leg.

“Behave.” His voice rumbled around her as he lifted her body into his arms. Hermione crossed her arms and stared at the ground as he carried her into Hogwarts. Once they reached the Great Hall, Hermione was glad to note that Voldemort was nowhere in sight. Dolohov only stopped long enough to awkwardly close the massive doors behind them.

When he began to move towards the dungeons, Hermione’s head snapped up, she met his dark brown eyes defiantly.

“I was a Gryffindor. The tower is that way.” She said as she gestured to the stairs.

“You are the Dark Lord’s ward and you are no longer a student. You are to live in the castle because that is where he lives. He has commanded that the suite of rooms next to his be made available to you.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea.” Hermione muttered unhappily. He snickered as he effortlessly carried her deep within the bowels of the castle.

“She is also going to attend and finish out her final year.” Voldemort said from the shadows, scaring Hermione. She flinched so hard that if Dolohov hadn’t been holding her so tightly, she would have ended up on the floor.

“In that case, shouldn’t I stay in Gryffindor tower?” Hermione’s face lit with hope.

“You are much too old to be staying in those dorms. No, Darling, I am going to keep you close to me.”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” Hermione mumbled under her breath. Voldemort’s red eyes gleamed in the darkness.

“Well, doesn’t that just explain how amazingly patient I have been with you?”

Hermione crossed her arms and glared at him, refusing to participate any longer in whatever this was.

“Once Hermione gets settled in her room, Dolohov, come find me.” Voldemort said.

“Yes, My Lord.” He murmured with a small bow as Voldemort walked away. How he could still bow after carrying her sorry arse up to the castle and down to the dungeons, while still holding her was beyond Hermione’s imagination. It wasn’t that she was heavy but to him it seemed effortless. How strong was he that he could carry her around all day like it was nothing? Her stomach sank. She already dreaded being carried and the thought of begging rose her hackles. Being carried was the better option. Right? She still wasn’t sure. Hermione looked up into Dolohov’s curious gaze. They hadn’t moved at all since Voldemort left.

“How am I supposed to learn and study if I don’t have a wand?” Hermione croaked, panic stricken.

“Well, Pchelka, I suppose you are going to have to be really, really nice to me.”

“Why?” Hermione went stiff and her gaze narrowed.      

“Because you will have to ask the Dark Lord and you can’t get an audience without me.” He buried his face in her curls as her heart began to beat furiously with fear. He was smelling her. She shuddered in revulsion. Dolohov chuckled, obviously misinterpreting her reaction.

“I think I like your punishment. To be the man to carry you, sleep with you…” He said as his heated gaze roved the side of her face.

“What?!” She screeched. “You are not sleeping with me.”

“Did you not hear my Lord’s command? I am to carry you everywhere. Even the loo. How else will I know when you need the loo if I don’t sleep with you?”

“You can sleep on the fucking floor then.”

Dolohov’s face hardened as if he had been slapped and a tic in his jaw fluttered.

“I will sleep wherever I want to and if you were smart you would not spurn me. I am your sole means of leaving your rooms. It would behoove you to be good to me.”

“Like I said…” Hermione began, her upper lip curling with disgust. “I would rather crawl!”

Dolohov glared at the passageway as he began moving again. The muscles in his face set. He kicked open her door and moved through the small sitting room to the bedroom beyond, flinging her on to the bed.

“Don’t move.” He said fiercely, as he walked back out. She heard the door slam behind him.

“Fuck you too!” She yelled, throwing the first thing she came into contact with at the semi open doorway to her new room. She screamed her frustration until her voice went hoarse from the abuse.

**HGHG**

Abraxas ran the tip if his wand down Bellatrix’s restrained arm. Her filthy robes had been split all over as if they had been cut. Red welts were raised on her skin everywhere the wand caressed. Bellatrix was sweating profusely, her hair and clothes damp. It was hot in the room. The heat made the smell even worse, and the pain harder to bear. Had the Malfoys not had the advantage of cooling charms, they too would have succumbed long ago to the sweltering stink.

“What does he want with Hermione, Bellatrix?” Abraxas purred softly. His fingers followed the trails his wand left behind forcing his prisoner to flinch and groan in agony. It was blistering heat followed by the deepest cold. She shuddered, grinding her teeth together.

“I can make this stop. With just one word I could heal your wounds. What do you say Bella? Voldemort is never coming for you. I bet he doesn’t even know you are missing.” Abraxas murmured. “Rodolphus didn’t want you and now Voldemort has abandoned you too.”

“No…” She moaned over and over, her head thrashing back and forth.

“He doesn’t want you but he wants Hermione. Why?”

“No…”

“Does he want her to give him an heir?”

“No…”

“Legillimens.” Abraxas muttered as he held her face in his hands so that she couldn’t avoid his mental probing. He slipped right in, her defenses were in tatters from Abraxas who had burned and then frostbit her tender skin.

Voldemort sat at the teachers table at Hogwarts facing the few students that were forced to attend Hogwarts. Snape sat beside him and Bellatrix sat on his other side. It was so quiet in the Great Hall that a pin could drop and it would echo through the whole castle. The students sat rigidly in their seats, silverware moved mechanically from plates to mouths and back. Fear bled off the students, it was a tangible stench in the air that even the most talented house-elf couldn’t clear away.

Snape leaned in close to his master, Bellatrix doing the same from the opposite side. She refused to be left out of whatever Snape relayed to their Lord.

“They are in the castle, My Lord.”

“And the girl?”

“She is with them.”

“Gather your brothers, Severus, and meet me at the passageway.” Voldemort stood up, his good mood making the students cower. He looked at them in disgust. Weak, all of them. Bellatrix moved to follow her master and only received a nod of acknowledgment.  “Which one did they use?” He asked Snape.

“The one-eyed witch to Honeydukes.” Snape replied. Voldemort let his smile stretch across his face. It was a gross caricature of humor, it was more likely that he bared his teeth as would a predator eagerly awaiting the chance to devour his prey.

He stopped midstride, Bellatrix right on his heels, as he saw the trio take the stairs back to the corridor where their escape route was. He followed them leisurely, watching them as they interacted together. The boys kept Hermione between them, to protect her, as if they could protect her from him. He snorted. Bellatrix looked at him in question but he ignored her completely.

“Today is the day Bella,” He whispered quietly. “that all my plans come to fruition. After using Narcissa as practice run, I have finally, after much trial and error, perfected the spell. Just having Narcissa’s magic at my beck and call has been exhilarating, imagine if my host was Merlin’s own heir. I have waited so long for this, ever since that day, almost three years ago, when Hermione Granger’s folder made it into my hands.”

Abraxas pulled out of Bellatrix’s mind, a promise of pain in his eyes.

“Is that right?” he purred.

“No.” She whispered brokenly. Abraxas let go of her jaw and brought the tip of his wand to her face. “NO!” She screamed. Her screams reverberated around the room as Abraxas burned the same swirls into her skin that she had carved into Narcissa.

“Where did he take her?” He asked during a small pause. Tears were running down her face but she didn’t make a sound. Her lips were ravaged and bloody from biting through them. The angry welts raised on her skin. Her face no longer beautiful, but hideously puckered. There would be no removal of the cursed burns as Abraxas sealed them in with hoarfrost. The pain was nearly unbearable and pulled back, giving her time to rest. The uncertainty of the wait was just as damaging as the actual torture. Had his prisoner been anyone else bar Voldemort, he wouldn’t have been so cruel. But this was Bellatrix Lestrange and he knew exactly what she did to her captives. Harry and Narcissa were prime examples. He would get the information by any means necessary.

“Where did he take her?” He asked again.

“No…” He could barely hear her protestations from her ruined throat. He murmured a healing spell over her neck and brought his face back in front of hers. He was her entire world now.

“Were did your master take Hermione?”

“Hogwarts.” She whispered before she passed out.

**HGHG**

Draco and Lucius had healed Snape and Harry but they were still waiting for the former to wake up. Narcissa hadn’t moved so much as a finger during the whole altercation, still deep in her coma.

“We shouldn’t have left her here. We knew the wards were cripplingly weak if one of us didn’t stay.”

“Bellatrix had to go to the dungeons. We couldn’t risk having her in the same place as Hermione in case she carried a portkey.”

“We should have just killed her.”

Lucius nodded not completely in disagreement with his son.

“We will get her back!” Harry said stubbornly.

“Of course, we will.” Abraxas said as he walked back in. “How are they?” He indicated Snape and Narcissa.

“The same. They are fine and Snape should wake up any moment.”

“Good, good.” Abraxas muttered. Snape let out a low groan, his hands reaching up to cradle his head. His eyes fluttered open and his focus landed on Lucius.

“I’m sorry,” Snape began.

“Don’t apologize. We knew how weak the wards were when we left. We also didn’t know that he could draw from Narcissa’s magic. It’s how he apparated despite the wards that were being erected after we came back. Too bad he didn’t wait another second for the anti-apparition wards to kick back in.”

“The black nodule is the Dark Lord?” Snape asked horrified.

“Yes.” Lucius confirmed. “All hope is not lost, there is a healer- Helena Macmillan, who specialized in spell damage caused by the Dark Arts.”

“She was with Neville Longbottom and the remaining members of the Order, when I was captured.” Harry added.

“If I went to them,” Snape said slowly. “they wouldn’t just refuse me, they would attack. They would never help Cissy.”

“Harry will go with you. That will get you through.”

“But Hermione!” Harry insisted.

“Will be saved by Draco, Abraxas and me.” Lucius said, his no-arguments look was settled over his stony face.

“What happened to Hermione?” Snape asked.

“Captured by Tom Riddle and he intends to use her as a host. Just like Narcissa.” Abraxas accused.

“Father, it was our job to protect our witch, now, it is our job to get her back. No matter the cost.” Lucius admonished. Abraxas and Draco nodded, grimly preparing to lay down their lives if needed.

“Where is she? Do you even know?” Harry asked.

“Hogwarts.” Abraxas muttered. Snape laughed humorlessly.

“He has that locked down harder than the Manor. It would take a miracle to get her out of there if that is where he took her.”

“Make no mistake,” Abraxas declared. “we will get her back.”

“Too bad I no longer had the map.” Harry lamented.

Snape smirked and pulled the marauders map from an inner pocket of his robes.

“Where did you get that?” Harry asked.

“I pulled it from your belongings from Grimmauld Place after you brought Yaxley through the Fidelius charm after breaking in and out of the ministry. In fact, I have all of your personal belongings in my vault at Gringotts. I kept the map with me just in case. Damn good thing I did.”

Harry took the map and moved closer to the Malfoys.

“It just looks like a blank piece of parchment but if you tap it and say, I solemnly swear I am up to no good, it becomes a map of Hogwarts. It shows all the secret passages and rooms bar the unplottable ones. It also shows you exactly where everyone is.” As Harry was teaching the Malfoys how to use the map he was also searching for Hermione. Silence fell as the search proved fruitless of Hermione’s familiar haunts.

“There she is.” Draco muttered, pointing to a spot in the lower dungeons. Snape moved closer, his nose nearly to the parchment. He threw back his head and laughed. It took him a moment before he was able to control himself enough to answer the questioning and impatient looks he was receiving.

“She is in my old suite of rooms. If he had known that, I know he wouldn’t have put her there. As it is you are very lucky. While spying for both Voldemort and Dumbledore, Dumbledore convinced the castle to add a new passageway from my rooms to Rosmerta’s. It was so that I could leave the castle in my Death Eater robes and not scare the children more than I already do. After his death, I never closed it. It was my back door to flee or keep the three of you in the relative safety of the higher levels of the castle, if you needed it.”

“That might be fantastic news,” Muttered Draco. “but he is going to be a problem.” He pointed to the dot that indicated Antonin Dolohov. He was right next to Hermione and he hadn’t moved in several long minutes.

**HGHG**

Hermione folded her arms stubbornly and presented Dolohov her back. He chuckled as he sat on the bed, pulling off one boot at a time.

“Need to use the loo, Pchelka?” He asked without looking at her. He was smirking though, she could tell by his voice and it only served to make her angrier. She hated to admit that she did and had for the last two hours.

The moment she had stopped screaming when he deposited her unceremoniously onto the bed earlier in the day, she realized she had to go to the bathroom. Refusing to wait or call out to her appointed babysitter, she decided to do exactly what she said she would do. She tried to crawl. It soon became obvious that she could move anywhere on the bed that she liked, but the moment she left the bed, her whole body felt like it was being consumed by Fiendfyre. The moment she was back on the bed, it had disappeared as if it never happened.

“I won’t even stay and watch.” He added, as if that was a kindness instead of a given. Squaring her shoulders, she knew that she couldn’t afford to hold it for much longer or they would both have to sleep on the floor and Hermione suspected that unless Dolohov set her on the floor, it would be agony for her.

“The loo would be great, and I will take you up on the offer to not stay and watch.”

Dolohov released a breathy chuckle as he walked around the bed to the side Hermione was precariously perched on. He slid one of his arms around her back and the other behind her knees. He was gentle with her, moving her smoothly so not to jar her broken ankle. She figured he would have orders to be rough with her to force her into a humiliating round of public begging. It surprised her. Hermione didn’t like surprises, unless they were the sexy Malfoy version.

Just thinking about the Malfoys, Harry, and Snape set her stomach into knots, not including Narcissa and her unknown disease. She couldn’t even imagine what they were feeling at the moment. She hoped they were smart enough to stay away from Hogwarts. She fully intended on escaping. She frowned. She couldn’t escape unless she was healed and free to walk around. To get that, she had to beg. She didn’t know if she had it in her to do that. She decided to sleep on it. Maybe inspiration would come with the dawn.

“What’s wrong?” Dolohov inquired as he watched her face. He sat her on the edge of the tub and kneeled in front of her, reaching for her feet.

“What are you doing?” She demanded. She wasn’t about to answer any questions and thought it safer to attack him and his motives.

“Taking off your shoes and socks. Then I am going to help you out of your robes and knickers. You can go to the bathroom in privacy and then I will come back in and shower with you.”

“Oh. Hell. No! I can get to the tub from the toilet. Thank you very much.” She yelled.

“Listen, I know this spell. Hell, I invented it. You will not be able to go from there,” He pointed to the toilet. “All the way across the room to the bath. Call me when you are finished on the toilet.”

“You still could just put me in the shower. You are not coming in with me.”

“I thought we already discussed this. It would only be to your benefit to please me.”

“I have no intention of ‘pleasing’ you.” She said nastily.

He looked down at the floor and clenched his teeth.

“I know you have had a difficult time of it and I will allow you my forgiveness for today, because tomorrow I will expect your cooperation.”

“Over my dead body!”

He moved to unbutton her robes but she smacked him away, his face clouding with anger. He gave her a look of warning. Once she got to the end of the row of buttons, she held the sides together so they wouldn’t gape.

“I don’t need your help getting out of my clothes. Just take me to the toilet.”

He stared at her brows raised.

“Please?” She asked through gritted teeth. His lips twitched as he carried her over and left silently, giving her the privacy that she requested. Glowering at the door, she finally released her bladder from its torturous hold.  She shook her head. There was only one thing she could do. It was imperative that she learn wandless magic and slaughter the lot of them as soon as possible.

**HGHG**

Lucius, Abraxas, and Draco stood around the observation globe. Snape and Harry had already departed with Narcissa in tow to find the remaining members of the Order. The three Malfoys made up the entire war council that was destined for operation, free Hermione.

They had fought for hours over a suitable plan, Draco proved to be a decent strategist when he wanted something bad enough. If Draco was their best tactician, Abraxas was their skilled General, and Lucius was Black Ops. Although if truth were told both Abraxas and Lucius could be coined Black Ops. Scary, the both of them. The extreme heat and cold torture of Bellatrix Lestrange was the testament to their ruthlessness to their enemies. Mercy was to be given to only those that were salvageable. Everyone else was expendable and the severity of killing methods depended on their crimes.

“Then we are agreed.” Abraxas concluded. “Our first move is to make contact with Rosmerta.”

With a small pop, a tiny house-elf appeared in front of them. Her head was bowed and her tiny shoulders were thrown back with pride.

“What is you wanting to do with the house, Master?” the squeaky little voice rose with emotion.

“We will have to rebuild. Are all of the elves safe?”

“Of course. We felt the magic gather and hid. We is not needing to rebuild the whole house. As long as the root remains, we can use magic to restore. Do you want the elves to restore?”

“The root of what?”

“The core of the house was magically anchored in all times by Master Sigurd.”

“This room and all of those below it?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. Do as you must.”

“Yes, Master.” She bowed low popping out quickly.

Lucius turned back to Draco and Abraxas.

“Hogsmeade it is then. We can’t just apparate in front of her door. We are going to have to be stealthy. No one can know who we are meeting with or why.”

“I think flying by broomstick is our best bet.”

“I still think we could apparate part of the way.” Abraxas disagreed. “He is going to have people watching for us. If we apparate from this room, they wouldn’t know we were gone until it was too late to tail us.”

“He could have easily laid a ward that wouldn’t activate unless we apparated. He had plenty of time.”

“Then how are you suggesting we leave?”

“Gilkey.” Abraxas recalled the tiny house-elf.

“Yes, Master?” She asked with a bow.

“Is there any way to leave from this room without being seen from observers?”

“Yes, Master!” She squeaked excitedly. “Just through here.” She walked to the darkest corner of the room and pressed her tiny finger into an indentation. It was a button that could only be triggered by a house-elf or a tiny pin. Even a wand wouldn’t do the trick.

The stone flowed like water, creating a huge spiral staircase through the floor.

“Where does it end?”

“In the root.” She said as if it were obvious and they should have already known. The wizards started down the tight stairs, leaving Gilkey behind.

“Oh, Master Sigurd, what did that horrible witch do to you?” Her soprano voice echoed in the barely lit stairway from the room they just left.

Their continued descent was long and slightly torturous. The Malfoy men were large, testaments to their Viking ancestry and the stairs were tightly formed. It was cramped and the steps themselves were much too small. Still they kept going down. They didn’t know what the elf meant by the root but they knew that it had to end somewhere and they were already too committed to turn back now.

When they finally reached the bottom, there was a large wooden door. It had been painstakingly sanded and varnished by a true master. The black iron hinges and handle were twisted into complicated and beautiful patterns. It was a true masterpiece. It shone with an incredible luminescence. Abraxas stepped up to the door and pushed it open, noticing the buttery feel of the wood beneath his fingers. Of all of the things he was expecting to find beyond that door, a diamond coffin holding the perfectly preserved body of Sigurd Malfoy, was not one of them.

Chapter Text

8

Previously:

When they finally reached the bottom, there was a large wooden door. It had been painstakingly sanded and varnished by a true master. The black iron hinges and handle were twisted into complicated and beautiful patterns. It was a true masterpiece. It shone with an incredible luminescence. Abraxas stepped up to the door and pushed it open, noticing the buttery feel of the wood beneath his fingers. Of all of the things he was expecting to find beyond that door, a diamond coffin holding the perfectly preserved body of Sigurd Malfoy, was not one of them.

**HGHG**

As Abraxas walked farther into the room, torches on the walls lit immediately. The flickering glow bathed the room in just as many shadows as it had illuminated. The diamond casket glittered with a white light, an inner illumination that drew the focus of any eye. Sigurd had long flowing blond hair, small portions were braided away from his face. His long sword laid on his torso, his hands wrapped around the finely wrought hilt. His face was flushed and his eyes beneath the lids were zooming back and forth as if he were dreaming. It could have been a trick of the light but it looked as if he was breathing as well. The men tore their gaze from their ancestor’s body and felt each of their jaws drop with the sight that they had missed when they first entered the room.

The room was small, its stone walls were covered with thick hide panels depicting scenes that took their breath away. The art was amazing, with details that stunned the visitors. The three Malfoy men stared as the face of the person they knew best stared back. Hermione’s likeness was scattered around the room. Drawings and paintings of her during the war, and after. Even some from before, when she was but a child. There were scenes of Hermione in the throes of passion and of conjugal bliss that somehow all featured the braided locks of Sigurd Malfoy. Some even featured Hermione fighting with Draco when they were younger. Lucius stopped in front of a full-size painting, depicting Hermione’s torture at Bellatrix’s hand. He was shamed to see himself on the sidelines, a mere spectator. He lightly ran his finger on her face, fully aware that the oils on his hands could be ruining these priceless artifacts.

Draco bumped into a small table in the corner as he tried to get closer to a nude painting of Hermione that was deep in one of the most shadowy of corners. Glass clinked together as he upset the table contents and watched with horror as two vials filled with memories rolled to the edge. His hands shot out in panic, hoping that he would catch them with his seeker reflexes. He looked in horror as one landed safely in his palm but the other slipped through his fingers and shattered on the floor. The memory vanished as if it had been sucked into the porous stone.

“What was that?” Abraxas asked, moving to Draco’s side of the room.

“There are two memories here- well, there were two. Now, there is only one, and this journal.” Draco held the two things aloft so that Abraxas and Lucius could see them. Lucius continued to gaze at Hermione’s pain twisted face. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. His usually unemotional face crumbled. Loathing and shame battled for dominance in equal measure.

Abraxas grabbed the white leather bound journal and tossed a look of concern at Lucius, who still hadn’t moved away from the disturbing painting. Putting Lucius’ needs on the back burner for the time being, he tried to open the journal. It zapped him. He released the journal, letting it fall to the floor. Red letters formed over the white leather.

This is the personal account of Sigurd Malfoy. The only two people allowed to read the contents are the author and his beloved. Please desist. If I am forced, I will have to release a curse. Thank you.

Abraxas read the scrolling script with raised brows. It was a very polite book. He took the memory next and was easily able to pop the stopper. Satisfied, he sealed the memory and slipped it into a pocket in his robe. After a second thought, he slid the journal behind it.

Abraxas silently noted the complete lack of dust in the room and began looking through the contents of the things in the chests shoved against the wall. Gold and jewels were crammed in the wooden chest to the very tops. The wealth in the room was staggering, even by Malfoy standards. It seemed that Sigurd was not going to leave the fortunes of the family to fate nor to his offspring.

“See anything you like?” Sigurd asked from the only wooden panel in the room that did not feature Hermione’s likeness.

“So, this is where you disappear to,” Abraxas stood up and regarded his Viking ancestor. “Maybe you would like to shed some light on what is going on here.” He gestured to Sigurd’s coffin.

“Not yet, I think.” He said with a calculating look in his eyes. 

“As much as we would like to stay and catalogue your wealth,” He began. “we need to meet with Rosmerta and talk to her about getting into Hogwarts to Hermione.”

“Or you could take that door.” Sigurd pointed to the door they entered from.

“That is where we came in.”

“Yes,” Sigurd said. “and no. That door will take you to any doorway that you had ever crossed. If you have the balls to step through.”

“What does that mean?”

“If you want to know about the door, you will have to experience it. The more you know about it, the less you will willingly use it. Using that door must mean that your quest is so important that even death couldn’t stop you from completing it. That every other option had been exhausted.”

“We haven’t tried anything else. Perhaps using the door isn’t such a good idea.” Abraxas mumbled considering the options running through his mind.

“It could take us directly to Hogwarts. I will go alone and bear the burden of whatever the consequence is for using it.” Lucius told Abraxas, both men stared at the other, sizing each other up. Abraxas turned away first, an unacknowledged victory for Lucius. “Will I be able to return through it?” Lucius asked Sigurd’s painting.

“No.”

“You aren’t going alone.” Abraxas said.

“Go to Rosmerta’s and ask her to open the tunnel. I will find Hermione and bring her through.”

“Then you should take the map.” Draco said, handing the parchment to his father. Lucius smiled at Draco before looking at Sigurd’s painting.

“Are you alive or able to be revived?” Lucius pierced him with a suspicious look. The son of a seer is magically preserved in a mysterious room with Hermione’s picture tacked to every inch of the walls? Not suspicious at all.

“Yes.”

Lucius nodded, a considering look on his face. He turned to the door and caressed the black iron handle, knowing that everything was about to change, again.

“What do I do?” He asked Sigurd.

“Just place your palm to the door and ask it to take you to someplace specific. Try not to think in words though. It confuses it. Form a clear picture in your mind, and then step through.”

“Is that it?” He asked.

“Sure.” He said with a crafty smile. Lucius narrowed his eyes and placed his palm to the door and pictured the broom closet where he used to snog Narcissa during their seventh year. With one look back at Sigurd, he pulled the door open and stepped through.

**HGHG**

The moment Hermione flushed the toilet, Dolohov was in the bathroom, ready to join her in a shower. It seemed as if, no, was a foreign concept for him. He strode in naked, with absolutely no shame. She turned her head away repulsed. It wasn’t that he was bad looking, in fact he was built very well for a man, it was the fact that he had no respect for her. He could care less for what she wanted and on top of that she was pretty taken with the Malfoys and even well-muscled Russian men couldn’t tempt her away from them. Not to mention the obscene amount of times he had personally tried to kill her.

Hermione closed her eyes in mortification as he lifted her from the toilet and only set her on her feet once they stepped into the shower. Her face flamed as he pushed her robes off of her shoulders, his fingers lingering on her skin. Gritting her teeth, Hermione turned her back to him, trying to ignore that he was standing naked in the shower with her. All at once, unquenchable anger rose in her stomach. It was ridiculous. She was not the type of girl who just passively let things happen to her. Since when did she back down from anything? Incensed, she whipped around, her finger less than an inch from his left eye.

“Get out,” She growled in a glorious rage. “or I swear to Merlin I will ensure that the Dolohov line ends with you!”

He stared at the offending appendage that she stuck in his face. For a moment, she wondered if he had heard her at all but noticed out of the corner of her eye that he was clenching and unclenching his fists. His knuckles were white. She flicked her furious gaze up to his turbulent eyes. She refused to back down.

“Hermione,” He said warningly, as if giving her the angry dominant eyes would make her back down. It is a proven fact that she would dig in her heels and fight it out until death. Her parents had learned that the hard way. She was as stubborn as they came.

“No!” She yelled in his face. “I deserve the respect of being able to shower on my own. Where the hell could I possibly go? I can’t even leave the damn shower unless you carry me!”

“Why should I go out of my way to carry you like a pack mule? Should I just quietly do whatever you tell me to? What the hell do I get out of this? Your riveting conversation? I have been kind and accommodating. The Dark Lord told me to break you, to make you willingly beg at his feet to be healed. So far, I have given you privacy and gentleness. If you spurn me, you will find that I will not be so damn amenable.”

“I don’t need you!” Hermione screamed.

That was the moment he snapped. She had no idea he could move so fast. His hands clamped on her upper arms painfully as he pushed her back against the cold tile. She hissed as the back of her head met the tile and her broken ankle sent a zing of white hot lightning up her leg. The force of it made her see stars. She gasped as he released one of her arms and turned on the cold spray. Goosebumps raised on her skin immediately, the cold deluge soaked into her bra and knickers. He moved closer to her, invading her space while simultaneously managing to shield her body from the cold water. His enraged face was an inch from hers, a vein was popping on his forehead and neck.

“Let’s see how long it will take you to call for me then.” His voice was measured, the words considered meticulously. The grimace on his face indicated that each word that left his throat was coated in broken glass. As if they were ripped from him. He stared at her for a moment longer before leaving the shower, and then the bathroom all together.

Hermione slid down the tiled wall and covered her face with her hands. She was shaking, more afraid of their row than she would admit. Without her wand she felt powerless, ineffectual, and worse of all she felt as if one wrong move would find her slipping off of the cliff she was walking along. Baiting Dolohov was positively suicidal. She also knew that she had to stand her ground if she didn’t want to be eaten alive. She needed to use every ounce of Gryffindor courage that she could summon.

After a few more minutes without moving, Hermione decided that she might as well actually shower in case he got the brilliant idea to come back and make her suffer some more. Her heart rate finally slowed down and she stood, twisting the knob for hot water.

It was the fastest shower she had ever taken, despite her leg. She had no desire to be rendered even more defenseless by having shampoo sitting in her hair and possibly running down her face and into her eyes. He kept true to his threat; he didn’t put one toe back in the bathroom.

When she was finished, she grabbed the remaining towel and wrapped it around her body. She buffed the water off of her, until the only part that still was damp was her impossible hair. Shrugging on her discarded robe, she stood just inside the shower for what seemed like hours before deciding to see exactly how bad things could get. The moment she resolved to move beyond the shower, a throb of pain emanated from her leg. A warning.

She slid down to the floor and crawled out of the stall, wincing as the agony built in her extremities. Torture under Bellatrix Lestrange was so much worse than this. If she could live through that and keep her mind from shattering, she could crawl out of this damned room.

She made it to the door and pushed it open. Keeping her eyes tightly shut, she pushed back her nausea. With a deep breath, she opened her eyes and surveyed the room. Dolohov was lounging in a chair next to the bed, his towel slung low on his hips. His fingers were on his face as he watched her progress as she crawled into the room. He looked mildly impressed but still didn’t move from his seat.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione ignored her spectator and focused her attention on the bed. Each movement was rough and painful, like a punch to the gut.  It wasn’t easy but she finally made it to the bed and pulled down a pillow and a blanket. With relief, she began retreating to the bathroom once more. She stopped long enough to throw Dolohov a triumphant look. His expression was amusing, he was astounded.

She smiled and sagged with relief as she crossed back into the shower. Let them underestimate her now. She wanted to sing her victory, small though it was, from the rooftops. Instead, she wrapped herself in her blanket and stuffed the pillow under her cheek, the smile never once leaving her lips. Hermione- one, Dolohov- none.

The next morning, Hermione smiled and stretched as she snuggled into the comfortable bed underneath her. She stiffened almost immediately as she felt a hard, male body roll into her. His arm snaked around her hips and pulled her closer to his sleeping form.

Hermione sat up and scooted away as fast as she could, startling Dolohov awake.

“What’s wrong?” He asked with his sleep addled mind.

“Why am I here?”

“I carried you.”

“I thought you were going to make me call for you?”

“After your spectacular performance of getting bedding, I knew that you wouldn’t ever call for me. So, I decided that I would do what I wanted. And what I wanted was to feel your body next to mine as I slept. You never even made a sound when I came and got you.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I may have preferred sleeping on the shower floor?”

“Did it ever occur to you that I don’t care?”

“Yes, I was pretty sure that was the case.”

He grabbed for her but she moved out of his reach. Letting his hand fall to the bed, he visibly tried to contain his anger.

“I’m hungry.” She said pointedly.

“I want to go back to bed.”

“Fine.” Hermione grit her teeth and stood on the floor, favoring her broken leg. Not only was it broken but it felt as if it had swollen and the flesh was slightly warm. She wondered if Voldemort also sped up the rate of infection or whether that was just a nice bonus for her defiance.

“What are you doing?” He asked exasperatedly.

“I am going to get something to eat.”

“You will never make it.”

Hermione pursed her lips and took another shaky hop. What started out as what felt like millions of needles being stabbed into her body, now was a raging inferno of blunt steel spikes being driven through and splintering the bones in her body. Each hop was worse than the last. She gulped, and closed her eyes. Dread sunk into the pit of her stomach and solidified into an immovable lump of lead. That begging was going to have to happen. How could she escape if she couldn’t even walk? Maybe, that is what they were counting on.

“Take me to Voldemort.” She muttered quickly before she lost her nerve. This was going to come with a price, she could feel it.

“Giving up already, Pchelka?” He purred sensuously from the bed.

“I am being practical.” She ignored the hell out of his implied seduction.

“Because you can’t escape if you have to be carried everywhere?”

Hermione stared at Dolohov. She supposed it wasn’t too hard to figure out her motivations.

“Does it matter? Voldemort seemed pretty convinced that I won’t be able to escape.”

“You are right. He is confident but he is not here at the moment. You will have to wait to do your begging.”

“How long is he going to be gone?” Hermione cried, she felt panic beginning to swil in her stomach. She couldn’t wait.

“Who knows.” He smirked, his eyes roved down her figure. Her lip curled in disgust. He slid his hands behind his head and watched as Hermione continued to hop her way to the bedroom door.  The sheets had pooled around his hips and he made no move to cover himself. Hermione ignored him and concentrated on not being sick all over the floor.

Hermione made it to the door and leaned against the frame, uncertain if she could go on. Dolohov chuckled and she heard the whisper of the sheets as he got out of bed. Not trusting that he had clothes on, Hermione kept her eyes shut tight. It was a great relief though when she heard the rustle of clothes and the clink of a belt. She squealed as he unexpectedly swept her off of her feet and walked out of the room.

“You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met.” He mumbled. Hermione smirked. She sure as hell wasn’t going to make it easy on him.

**HGHG**

Had Narcissa’s very life not hung in the balance, Severus Snape would have throttled Harry Potter ages ago. Occasionally Harry showed glimpses of his mother’s kindness but more often than not, he was the picture of James Potter. Severus ground his teeth in frustration. Every sentence the boy uttered, was like nails on a chalk board to his ears. They would obviously never be anything other than enemies. Their animosity was too deeply rooted. Despite his severe dislike for Harry, Severus did what he had to for Narcissa. He loved her and he would do anything to free her from Voldemort.

Harry and Snape looked around the recently abandoned camp for clues of where the resistance had moved to. Again. It was the third camp they had found left this way. And just the same as the others, there was no sign of who had been there or where they went.

“Merlin’s beard, Harry Potter is that you?” Neville asked as he moved out of the dense woods and into the camp.

“Hey Neville! Yeah, Snape and I need to find someone.”

Neville, though meeting them with a smile, never lowered his wand and kept it trained on Severus Snape.

“What spell did Hermione use on me during our first year when I tried to stop you three from leaving the dorms?”

“It was petrificus totalus, wasn’t it?” Harry asked scrunching his brows together deep in thought, his hand raised to the back of his head.

Snape snorted.

“Not only did you avoid punishment for attacking another student, the crazy bastard gave you house points for it. Taking the cup, year after bloody year.” Snape shook his head in disgust.

Harry smirked and winked at Neville. Neville lowered his wand with a queer look on his face.

“Of all the people, I thought I might find trying to catch our group, I never would have thought that I would find Harry Potter and Professor Snape together, of all people.”

“We didn’t think you would talk to Snape if he came alone. So here we are.” Harry said with a shrug.

“Don’t you want to ask me a question?” Neville asked with an answering smile.

“Nah, only you could have been so specific in your question.”

“So, you are searching for someone? Who?”

“Helena Macmillan. She was a healer in the spell damages ward at St. Mungos. She comes highly recommended.”

“Yeah, Helena, she is the best. Keeps us alive more often than not. What do you need her for? Ron? Hermione?”

“You haven’t heard then,” Harry said looking away. “Ron died and Hermione has been captured by Voldemort. We need the Healer for Narcissa Malfoy.”

“If Voldemort has Hermione, then why aren’t you trying to get her back?”

“Hermione resurrected the Malfoys. They will get her back.”

“Holy shit. Can she raise anyone?” Neville asked excitedly.

“If she could, she would have started with Ron.” Harry said sadly, shaking his head with guilt. Neville nodded.

“Is Healer Macmillan with you?” Snape growled. He was in no mood to sit and bullshit with Neville Longbottom of all people.

“Yeah, I’ll take you to our main camp but we are waiting for the portkeys to activate.”

“Where are they?”

“They are the rocks under your feet.”

“Incompetent, idiots!” Snape yelled. “How much time do we have?”

“A minute or so. Why?” Neville shrugged off the criticism like a pro.

“Narcissa.” Harry said in lieu of an explanation as Snape stomped off into the brush. He was back seconds later carrying a comatose Narcissa in his arms. Neville had never seen Snape move so fast.

“Am I in the right spot?” He demanded looking down at the rocks. Neville nodded but was so obviously confused.

“Why isn’t her husband here? Why is Snape the one who brought her?” Neville whispered to Harry. Snape glowered at the pair for a moment before turning away.

“It’s complicated but let’s just say that Narcissa is not married to Lucius. I think once she comes around, she might actually end up marrying Snape. I guess you should consider all Malfoy men married or belonging to Hermione. That is what I have been told anyway.”

Neville’s brows reached his hairline. A blue light surrounded the party and then they were gone.

**HGHG**

Lucius stepped through the door and paused; he was in a dark room with only a small tapered candle melted to a stone table. The sole occupant was an old crone that looked as if she was born with the world. She beckoned to him and he took the seat opposite, wondering what exactly he had done by using the door. Sigurd Malfoy was a cold bloody bastard for not giving him much of a warning.

“Welcome, Lucius Malfoy, to the end of the world. Every time you choose to use the door you will be told one truth about your life as payment for passage. If you are willing to continue, take my hand. If you are not, you may leave this one time- by the same way you came. This courtesy will only be offered once. How do you choose?” She croaked.

Lucius reached out his hand, scooped up her paper-thin skinned hand, and cradled it gently.

“So be it.” She said. As she began to speak, the room around them transformed into a great wooded glade. It was a place that he had visited many times throughout his life, the only thing missing were the unicorns. “Time for us is inconsequential here and as a rule we do not guess when things will come to pass if they had not yet already happened. Lucius, there was or will be a time in your life that you will regret being intimate with your young bride. It will shred and tear apart your very soul. There will be a time that you regret nothing more.”

As she finished Lucius’ truth, a door creaked open of its own accord behind her and was illuminated from the other side. He was unsettled and his hands shook as he released her and moved swiftly to the door. The last thought that ran through his head was that at least this was something he knew that had already come to pass. The only thing he hadn’t regretted about getting Narcissa pregnant was Draco. When he had to give up his life to buy Hermione time to get her out, he had selfishly wished that it was him and not Draco who ran with her. It was immaterial that neither one of them lived long enough to love her the way she deserved. He knew that the truth-saying could have been much worse, the old crone could have told him of his permanent death. That was something that he really didn’t want to know.

Without looking back at the candlelit crone, Lucius stepped through the door and into the broom cupboard that he had come to know so well that last year of school. He hoped never to have to use that door again, he could see why it fell out of memory and use.

With a wave of his wand, he turned the door opaque, watching to see if anyone was around. From his pocket, he pulled the marauders map with a shake of his head. He could have just used the map, he supposed. No wonder Potter never got in trouble for being where he wasn’t supposed to. With that thought he stopped dead, his face a mask of fury. That Potter boy dragged Hermione into his shenanigans. She could have been killed or expelled. Next time he saw Potter, they were going to have a chat for knowingly putting Hermione in danger time after time.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” He muttered with a tap of his wand. Unfurling the map and searching the dungeons for Hermione, he began to grow frustrated as he couldn’t locate her. He sighed with relief the moment he found her dot. Perhaps it was the day for him to see red and contemplate the murder of other men because there was Dolohov’s dot right with Hermione’s. They were just coming out of the Great Hall. So, the question at the center of Lucius’ mind was; exactly what was Dolohov’s involvement and why was the bastard all over his witch.

With a sharp tap of his wand over his head, Lucius disillusioned himself and slowly walked the corridors. Every time he passed a student or professor, he ducked into the shadows or any place he could conceivably hide in and went motionless. Disillusionment charms weren’t fool proof.

Slowly he made it down to Snape’s old rooms and dismantled the inclusion wards that allowed access to Hermione, Dolohov, and Voldemort. Eventually she would have to come back. He walked into the rooms and noticed that the Hogwarts elves had already been through, cleaning up and making the bed.

The chair was conveniently placed to watch any and all entry. Lucius lowered himself onto the cushions, his elbows on the arms, and his fingers steepled under his chin. He didn’t have long to wait.

Dolohov strode into the bedroom, his arms full of witch. His witch. Dolohov was angry and it would have been obvious to anyone with eyes. He, of course, knew the Death Eater well from his own Death Eater days and knew that Dolohov’s famous rage was barely contained under the surface. Whatever the circumstances were that had put them in such close proximity, it was not voluntary. At least on her part. Hermione was smirking, not even bothering to hide her smug expression.

Dolohov tossed her onto the bed and she hissed, glaring at the back of his head as he went into the bathroom and didn’t even bother to close the door before whipping out his cock and taking a piss. Lucius watched as Hermione grabbed at her ankle, cradling it as if she were seriously hurt. He reached out a hand to her before pulling it quickly back. He needed to wait until she was alone, he knew that and yet, it took everything within him to back off. To have her so close and not be able to touch her when he finally was able to give in to his feelings was… pure torture. Especially since Dolohov was in the room and Lucius burned to claim her.

“I could make things easier for you,” Dolohov said over the sound of running water as he washed his hands. “If you would let me.”

“Really,” Hermione deadpanned. “because the only condition for making things easier would be to let you do it.” She rolled her eyes. “You made it very clear that I would be expected to ‘be accommodating’.” She raised her hands and air quoted, laying the sarcasm on heavily.

Dolohov turned off the water and walked to the doorway and leaned on the frame, sans robes. The only clothes he had on was a pair of trousers that weren’t even zipped. Hermione looked away, straight at Lucius. She did a double-take as the chair rippled and smiled slightly before turning away.

“My only goal is to get my leg healed. I have many books in the library at my disposal to research. I hope you like the library and silence, because we are going to do a lot of that. As long as you are forced to carry me around, you might as well give in with grace. There will never be a time that I will turn to you. I am not interested. Thanks for the offer and all, but no thank you.” She said it sweetly but the look in her eye told a different story. Not only was she saying it in a way to purposefully wound Dolohov, she was also trying to fill in her visitor, not that she knew who was there. Hermione was a bright witch, she probably figured it was one of them. Lucius smirked.

Her words began to turn over in his mind. Her leg was broken and Dolohov was forced to be her transportation. Lucius assumed there must have been a spell laid on her to inhibit healing. Lucky for her, this was not an unusual spell cast by Voldemort. It was very popular during his Death Eater days. In fact, had Dolohov been inclined, he could have broken the curse and healed her in moments. Lucius supposed that Hermione being forced to ask Dolohov to carry her was a reward of sorts. Lucius’ new plan was settled. He had to wait until Hermione was left alone so that he could heal her then they could both flee out of the tunnel. But, until he heard from Draco, Abraxas, or Rosmerta, they would have to wait anyway. Only Snape and Rosmerta could open the secret passageway, and that meant biding his time.

**HGHG**

Abraxas and Draco were seconds away from begging and Malfoys did not beg. Rosmerta had closed her door in their faces. It had only taken one look at Draco before she glared and snarled in their direction. She obviously still held a grudge for that imperius curse he had put her under the year Dumbledore was killed. Not that Abraxas blamed her, he just had hoped that Draco dying in the interim would have ensured at least a grudging forgiveness, especially since he died for Hermione. But alas, it was not to be.

“Rosmerta,” Abraxas cajoled. He turned on the charm that had always won the ladies over, layering a bit of that Malfoy privilege over top. Woman loved that. “we just want to talk.”

“NO! Go away!” She yelled through the door.

“Be reasonable!” Abraxas coaxed. Draco opened his mouth to add his two cents in the mix, only to quickly bite his tongue at the glare his grandfather shot his way. Draco was to look contrite and not say a fucking word.

“Or what? You will make me? force me? in my own home? I don’t think so, Malfoy!”

“I didn’t want to do this out here but you have left me no choice. Hermione is stuck in Hogwarts, Potter would be here but he had to go find a healer in the resistance camp.”

“A Malfoy working with Harry Potter and his Mudblood friend? Why do I have such a hard time believing you?”

“Don’t call her that.” Abraxas growled. Rosmerta opened the door, confusion marring her beautiful face.

“Why not?”

“Because of Hermione, we are alive- not even to mention the fact that she will marry us one day.”

“Us?” Rosmerta asked skeptically.

“Yes. She raised the three of us from the dead. Draco, Lucius, and me. We are as bound to her as she is to us.”

Rosmerta studied his face to see if he was toying with her and after a tension filled moment, let them in her house.

“You better start talking.” She grouched, still glaring daggers at Draco as she crossed her arms.

“We need to use the passageway that Dumbledore set up for Snape to attend Death Eater meetings without being seen.”

“You can only use that passageway if the suite of rooms is inhabited.”

“Lucky for us, that is exactly where Voldemort put her.”

“And you would know this because…”

“Harry Potter told us.”

“How can I believe you? Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy have a notoriously long-standing feud.”

“How can I convince you?”

“You can’t. I need to hear from Harry, himself before I do anything for the likes of a Malfoy!”

“Great. How are we supposed to get in touch with him? We have no idea where they went.” Draco muttered. Abraxas was deep in thought as he debated his options.  

“Do you have a portrait that connects to any of the previous headmasters at the school?” He asked after several minutes of silence and he grimaced.

“Perhaps.”

“Ask to speak with Albus’ portrait. He will vouch for us.”

“And why would Albus Dumbledore vouch for a Malfoy?”

“Because it was my intel combined with Severus’ that gave the ministry so many Death Eater names after the first war. When I died, right before the last task of the tri-wizard tournament, I had been working with Albus to find certain items for Harry Potter.”

Rosmerta looked like a fish, her mouth opening and closing without a sound. She nodded her head.

“Wait here.”

Abraxas nodded absently. He didn’t think he would have to fight so hard to get to the passage but of course he missed the years where both his son and grandson were branded and controlled by Voldemort. He winced. That was a low era for the Malfoys, without a doubt.

Rosmerta walked back in with a stunned look on her face.

“I had no idea that your whole family was acting as spies for Dumbledore. You can go through.” She said leading further into her home. “I wish Albus had told me though. All he said at the time was that Draco was just a boy and deserved a second chance. Either way, here you go.”

Abraxas took a small medallion out of his pocket and rubbed it as if he was worried about something.

“Just one moment.” He murmured.

**HGHG**

 Lucius slowly moved his hand from his chin and worked his fingers into one of his pockets. His medallion had grown warm, finally, a message from his father.

Ready?

No. Hermione not alone.

Time?

One hour.

One hour or we come.

Lucius watched as Dolohov sauntered into the room sans shirt and bracketed his arms around Hermione’s body on the bed. It was in that moment that Lucius started to plan every single gory detail of Antonin Dolohov’s death. It would be long and painful and was going to be delivered meticulously by his own hand.

Chapter Text

9

Previously:

Lucius watched as Dolohov sauntered into the room sans shirt and bracketed his arms around Hermione’s body on the bed. It was in that moment that Lucius started to plan every single gory detail of Antonin Dolohov’s death. It would be long and painful and was going to be delivered meticulously by his own hand.

**HGHG**

Fear choked Hermione as Dolohov came nearer. His wand was never in her reach, and she could tell that this time was no different. He had a look in his eye that told her that she wasn’t going to scare him off with a few well-chosen words. Not this time. Her blood began to sear her veins as it flowed faster and hotter than ever before. Lightning crackled at her fingertips and through her curls. She could feel the fear clawing its way up her stomach to settle in her throat. She couldn’t allow him to hurt her. She didn’t spend half her life suffering only to end up like this, a broken doll at Dolohov’s mercy. Bitterly, Hermione wondered if she had imagined the ripple around the chair. Perhaps there was no one there, no one to save her. There was no more time to wait for better opportunities, no one to collaborate with, no amount of talking her way out of whatever Dolohov decided to do to her. She had to act. Now.

The glorious rage she had felt in the shower came back to her as if she had summoned it. Her pupils glowed golden, and a non-existent wind swirled through the room. If no one was going to come for her, she would have to save herself.

“Don’t move.” Her voice ordered in triplicate. Hermione froze; the sound of her order, so foreign to her ears made her fear whatever it was that she had awoken deep within her. She watched as Dolohov barely paused, ignoring the magical warning in her voice. His eyes swept the line of her body before shrugging off whatever he saw that he refused to acknowledge and lowered his face, so that only a feather could fit between them.

She watched in slow motion as he came near, dread making her extremities feel leaden. She cringed back, using her hands on his chest to push him away. Dolohov, being twice her size, merely used the weight of his body to pin her. She could see in his eyes that no longer was he going to stop. In his mind, she was his and he was going to plunder her until he had what he wanted.

A ball of blue light left the center of her body and knocked into Dolohov. His body slammed into the wall across the room seconds before another blue stunner hit him from the side. She could hear heavy breathing coming from her right and looked around in surprise at an enraged Lucius Malfoy. His wand was out, his fingers clenched around the handle, and a look of coldblooded murder was a promise on his face.

His other hand was fisted and he kept it at his side but his wand hand trembled as he reached out to her face. Lightly, he caressed her, cradling her face as if she were a china doll or a spirit he had willed into being. It was like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Is he dead?” Hermione asked dispassionately. Where before she was drowning in fear and fury, now she was frozen and numb. Putting herself on autopilot was second nature until she could break down somewhere safe. Fighting a war honed those deadly and life-saving instincts with precision. The only other time she felt so out of control was when Bellatrix had tortured her at Malfoy Manor. She shook her head, refusing to think about that now.

“No.”

“How did you get in here?”

“Magic.”

Her lips quirked up. Lucius flicked his wand over her leg and chanted a beautiful melodious counter-curse as he healed her festering wound. The sweetest feeling of cooling and tingling flooded her limb and she slumped with relief.

“He told me that only he would be able to heal me.” Hermione mumbled.

“No one in this castle would dare to, and not many outside would have the knowledge needed. Today, you are in luck. He often used this spell while I was still alive and I happen to know the counter.”

“Did I ever tell you how amazing you are?” She asked breathlessly as she massaged her leg.

“No,” He purred. “but I wouldn’t mind hearing it one more time. Perhaps, the both of us deserve the praise. It was your wandless magic that blasted Dolohov across the room. It was no more than he deserved.” Lucius said coldly and flicked his wand at Dolohov’s unconscious body. Ropes shot from the tip that quickly wrapped around Dolohov’s entire body. His eyes flicked to his fist and he slowly uncurled it, a small smile on his face as he glanced at whatever he was in his hand

“I don’t know how I did that.” Hermione whispered.

“We can figure it out when we get home.” Lucius walked over to Dolohov and prepared his prisoner for transport.

“Home…” She murmured wistfully. “Where is home?”

“Malfoy Manor is your home, your stronghold. You belong with us. The four of us are a team.”

“Malfoy Manor was destroyed.”

“It should be fixed by now.” He murmured as he levitated Dolohov’s body to float along at his side. Hermione’s eyebrows rose in skepticism but she kept her opinions to herself.

Hermione stood gingerly, using the bedposts for support as she tested out her ankle. She could have wept with relief at the lack of pain, not only from her leg but also from leaving the bed without Dolohov’s permission. Had they not been in the center of enemy territory with Dolohov’s unconscious form on the floor, she would had thrown Lucius on the bed and learned all of the planes of his body. Her body and soul thrummed with his proximity. Adrenalin began pumping through her system now that Dolohov was efficiently taken out of the picture. The numbing of her emotions gave way to the euphoric lust that crashed around her. Now was not the time.

“Come with me.” Lucius’ calm voice was in direct contrast with the burning rage in his eyes. He held out a hand for her to take, if she wanted.

With a soft look, she slid her hand into his, her skin tingling with the contact. He lightly tugged her into motion, using his body to separate her from her tormentor.

They walked into the bathroom and to the far wall where a painting of a hooded man holding a scythe was mounted behind a heavy black curtain. With a nod from both man and painting, the floor to ceiling portrait swung open, a stone passageway behind it.

“Do you know how disheartening it is to find out exactly how close I was to a secret passageway this whole time.”

“Don’t feel so bad. Not only is it not on the Marauders map, but only Snape and Rosmerta can open it. Even if you had known exactly where it was, you wouldn’t have been able to use it.”

“Is Snape at the other end then?” She asked quietly as she watched the painting close behind them.

“No, Snape and Potter took Narcissa to the resistance to find a healer. Rosmerta opened the passageway for us.”

“She opened the passageway for the Malfoys?” Her surprise was evident in her tone. His lips twitched. “I hope she was not imperiused this time.”

“Draco will be so glad to hear of your opinion of him.” He teased.

“I didn’t mean…”

“It’s fine. We both have a lot to make up to you for. Years of mistreatment. I have no defense except my ignorance which isn’t a defense at all.”

Hermione bumped her shoulder lightly into his. She didn’t condone their methods but she could offer her forgiveness for their past actions against her. After all, they did die trying to help her. She squeezed his hand that she still grasped. Her heartbeat sped up slightly when he squeezed back. His blond hair gleamed in the wand-light and as she studied at him out of the corner of her eye, she thought how incredibly dashing a figure he cut. His shoulders were broad, his muscles defined and sculpted, his power pulsated around his body. It undulated around him as he moved, and she could feel it as it brushed against hers, the deadly power that laid deep within her core. She had felt it during times of great stress and fear but never had it manifested until Dolohov tried to rape her.

She pushed all of those thoughts back, vowing that she would address these issues someday, but today was not that day. A doorway opened at the other end of the tunnel and Hermione dropped Lucius’ hand and sprinted toward the light. Draco met her halfway, and tried to wrap his body around her protectively. His face was buried in her neck and he was babbling.

“Are you okay? That bastard didn’t touch you, did he? I thought I was going to lose you, I was so scared…”

“I’m okay. He didn’t hurt me. He wanted to, was going to, but I stopped him. I’m here. I’m okay.”

“Thank Merlin.” He mumbled before pushing his fingers into her hair on either side of her face and pulled her lips to his.  Hermione’s arms were wrapped tightly around his torso, she almost feared that if she let go, he would disappear and she would wake up back at the castle, Dolohov’s body the one wrapped around hers.

From behind, she heard a strangled grunt and pulled back to look at Lucius. His neck was a blotchy red, and his face twisted with tension and desire. There was a warped grin on his face, his eyes a mite too bright, as if he wanted to appear happy but had failed miserably in the attempt. At her questioning glance, he turned away, dropping the pretense of a smile all together. His face quickly retreated back into the shadows.

“Don’t mind him,” A warm gravelly voice greeted. Abraxas sauntered forward and pulled her out of Draco’s arms and into his body, tucking her head under his chin. He guided her out of the tunnel and smiled at Rosmerta who had watched their greetings with incredulity. He dropped kisses over the crown of Hermione’s head as they moved, his hands stroking her shoulders. He leaned in close to her ear. “He is just jealous that you haven’t kissed him yet and he was the one who came and got you.”

“How do you know I haven’t kissed him yet?” She asked curiously.

“He would not look like that, if you had.” He chuckled, not feeling an ounce of pity for the man. He hadn’t yet gotten a kiss either. He was almost envious of Draco’s impetuousness. Almost.

Hermione untangled herself from Abraxas and walked to Rosmerta with a huge smile. She could feel her break down coming. It was the metallic tang of fear that still coated her mouth. Not yet, she pleaded with herself. It took her a moment to realize that for the few minutes that she was in the arms of Draco, Lucius, and Abraxas, the panic had given way to something much more delicious. It was certainly something she intended to explore. Especially, if it kept the terror at bay.

“Thank you for helping to rescue me.” Hermione said to Rosmerta. The barmaid flushed with praise or guilt. It was hard to tell.

“I nearly didn’t. If Dumbledore’s portrait hadn’t vouched for them, I wouldn’t have opened it.”

“Well, I am glad you did! I don’t think I would have done well in that castle for much longer. I felt too vulnerable without my wand.”

Rosmerta pulled Hermione into a hug.

“I heard about Ron and I am so sorry for your loss. I remember the three of you in my pub drinking bottles of butterbeer when you were only this big.” She said holding her hand only slightly above her waist. Hermione chuckled.

“Back when our training to fight in the war truly began. We were relatively safe under the knowing eye of Dumbledore, even as we battled against horrific odds. It could have been worse I suppose.” Hermione had come to terms with the war long ago, something in which she wished Harry would follow her. He had a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas.

“If there is anything I can do, you know where to find me.” Rosmerta said. Hermione did not miss that it was mostly directed to Abraxas and her. “You may want to disguise your souvenir.” She muttered to Lucius as he passed. He flashed her a smile and with a needlessly sharp rap of his wand, he disillusioned Dolohov.

With a soft pop, Lucius and his prize were gone. Draco smiled at Rosmerta uncertainly before he too, left. Abraxas slid his hands to Hermione’s elbows and pulled her back into his chest.

“Thank you again, Rosmerta.” He said gratefully. “Ready, Love?” He murmured to Hermione. She nodded, unsure if they were actually going to the Manor even if Lucius did say that it was being rebuilt or something. She felt his movement as he pushed them into the tight tube of apparition, the unsettling feeling only dissipating upon their arrival.

Hermione looked around with wonder. She was standing in the famous Malfoy library that didn’t look at all as if it had recently been reduced to mere rubble, only a little more than twenty-four hours before. A day that felt like a lifetime ago.

**HGHG**

Snape stood toe to toe with Helena Macmillan, both stubborn- both spitting mad. Narcissa laid on the bed, eyes wide as she watched the argument like a ping pong match.

“You have ruined everything! You brought You-Know-Who straight here!” She screeched.

“And I told you that the very second that we entered this camp, I erected the most powerful wards known to wizard kind. There is no way he is getting through them without giving everyone enough time to flee!”

“You can promise that, can you? That the rest of us will not be cannon fodder, so that you can take her to safety at the first disturbance? You are a great bloody bastard Severus Snape!”

“Heal her then and we will go our merry way!”

“It’s not so simple!”

“What do you need? Whatever it is, I will get it or do it.”

“I need a potion,”

“Damn! We are completely fucked then, aren’t we? Where the hell are we going to find someone, who can make one of those?” His sarcastic tone was laced with contempt.

“If you would let me finish…” She trailed off. “Asshole.” She muttered under her breath. He glowered at her and raised his brows impatiently. “I need Hazia root and there is only one place on earth you can find it and only one day a year you can harvest it. It also needs to be no older than a fortnight.”

His sneer dropped immediately as his already pasty face, paled at the news.

“Do you have any contacts that could procure this for you?” He asked slowly, already knowing the answer.

“Anyone who dealt with me in the past is going to treat me like a plague carrier. No one outside of England wants to get involved with this war. Do you have any contacts?”

“Perhaps.” He muttered. If he went, he left not only the Narcissa but the whole camp vulnerable. He couldn’t entrust Narcissa to the boy wonder but neither could he send Potter overseas in his stead. He was stuck between a rock in a hard place. He lifted his eyes to meet Helena’s with a dangerous thought. The Malfoys. Drawing a small medallion out of his pocket, he began to slowly rub the metal with his thumb. The tiny coin heated with his request. He smirked knowing that Lucius was going to be furious when he realized that Snape had included his small coin in their little protean charm without their knowledge. He was almost sad he would miss the reaction.

Meet Teesdale -S

Unbelievable

5?

Fine

Snape smirked and pocketed his coin, his gaze softening as he met Narcissa’s concerned gaze. Taking the cue, Helena quietly left the small tent, giving Snape and Narcissa some privacy.

“What did you do?” Narcissa asked in a low voice.

“Why do you think I did anything?” He asked slyly.

“You only get that look, when you bait Lucius. So, what did you do?”

“I included myself in Lucius’ protean charm without informing any of them.” He muttered proudly. It had always been a pissing contest between them even if they were really good friends. Narcissa chuckled and shook her head. She reached out and patted his hand. He turned serious and took her hands in his. “At least you are out of the castle. I thought you were going to die there, under his thumb. I don’t care if I’ve blown the only link the Order had to his inner circle. I’m actually relieved. No more torture and double talk, trying to toe the line of double spy. I think you deserve safety after everything you have been through and it would be an honor and privilege to provide it for you. That is, if you would have me.”

“Severus,” She whispered, her eyes lowered and latched on their joined hands. “Until this war is over, I refuse to make any long-term plans. I have no intention of jumping from one bad marriage to another.” Snape opened his mouth to refute that they would have a bad marriage. She lifted a hand to cut him off before he could even start. “and before you ask, I don’t think we would have a bad marriage per se, just that I need time for me, to see what I want out of life. I refuse to wrap my entire being around another man until I am certain that is what I want. I refuse to hurt and disrespect us both by starting something that neither one of us is truly ready for. You deserve better than a broken woman and I deserve better than to be broken.”

Snape understood. If anyone could identify with what she meant, it would be him. He was a powerhouse of guilt and regret. Like calls to like, he supposed. He leaned forward and tenderly laid a kiss to her temple.

“Rest. I am going to meet with Lucius. I won’t be long.”

“Be safe.”

He pivoted and without another word exited the tent. He had only taken a handful of steps before Harry Bloody Potter fell into step beside him.

“So, Severus Snape does have a heart.” Harry baited, but before the former Professor could say anything, Potter smiled. “I’ll keep her safe. Merlin knows how many times you saved my life and the lives of those that I care about. Just, come back. Yeah?” Harry looked like he wanted to say something more, but obviously thought better of it and walked away instead. Snape shook his head, not knowing whether to be grateful to the idiot or fear for Narcissa’s life. Although, Potter had a way of making it out unscathed. He hoped that in this one instance, it would extend to Narcissa as well.

Once he got to the edge of camp, he apparated just outside of the cave that Lucius and Snape used as young men at Teesdale. It was hidden by layers of spells that they had woven on it over the years. It had become the place they would heal each other from skirmishes and punishments during the first war. The moment he walked through the wards, he was met with a barrage of stunners that he easily deflected. It was almost a ritual between them. Lucius looked annoyed. Good.

“You summoned me?” Lucius sketched a bow to go with his acerbic reply.

“Healer Macmillan can heal Narcissa but she needs a specific potion and to make this potion, she needs Hazia. Fresh Hazia. We already know he can find her no matter where she is and the Order doesn’t want her to stay in camp with them. I can’t leave Potter in charge of her. She would end up another one of his casualties.”

“You want me to either go get the Hazia or offer to protect Narcissa. And we both know that he could draw on her magic and destroy the Manor- again, which puts Hermione at risk. So, tell me, old friend- which do you prefer to ask of me?”

“I ask that you harvest the Hazia.”

“I assume you know that the only night of the year this can be harvested for medicinal use is summer solstice.”

“Yes.”

“That is in three days.”

“Yes.”

“It will take two just to get there.”

“Yes.”

“Leaving the country is not going to be easy.” Lucius sighed as Snape nodded.

“How did the rescue go?” Snape asked changing the subject, no one was in a blind panic and the Malfoy’s weren’t all dead so things must have turned out fine.

“She’s at the Manor. I captured Dolohov. She was his reward and now he is mine.” He sneered. “He is going to regret every lustful thought and glance he had for the rest of his very short life.”

“I want to be there.”

“No.”

“He was one of the men who did things to Narcissa over the years. I want to be there.”

The two men squared off, neither one backing down. Both had a claim to Dolohov’s death and they knew it. Together they would revel in his screams and watch as hope for rescue or absolution slowly drained from him. Lucius offered a nod, not one to waste words when a gesture would do the trick.

The men griped their forearms and silently left. There was nothing more to say at the moment, nothing to make the horrors of war recede from where it had already touched them and their loved ones.

**HGHG**

Hermione jumped when she felt the light touch on her back and swiveled around, her wand tightly clenched in her fist. That was the first thing she did upon entering the Manor, was take back her wand and kiss Abraxas’ face repeatedly as he pulled it from a pocket of his robe. She could tell he was pleased by her attention and praise. He cradled her face and held her chin in his rough hand, forcing her face to meet his.

He crashed his lips against hers, sweeping her slightly open mouth with his tongue. Dominating was second nature to him but it wasn’t intimidating with him like it was with Dolohov. She knew that with Abraxas all she would have to say was no and he would back off. She was the one who held the power here. It was heady and made her feel sexy, knowing that this powerful man’s actions were determined by her wishes alone.

His tongue was velvet as he caressed the sensitive skin of the inside of her lips and the underside of his tongue. He was everywhere, surrounding her with his scent, everything that made him who he was. Strong, capable, fierce, loyal, ruthless, hers. She wanted it, all of him. Her heart sped up as he pulled back and watched her pulse thrum in her neck as she gasped for air. His pupils were blown with a wild look in them that would have made a lesser woman quake. Never had she seen Abraxas so unkempt; his hair was askew, and his robe was mussed. If she didn’t know better, she would say that he was tormented over her capture. Perhaps he was.

At Rosmertas, he had been calm, so well put together. He was the rock for their family. It seemed that once he was assured of her safety within the confines of Malfoy Manor, he fell apart. Only to be held together by the feel of her in his arms.

“I’m okay.” She murmured to him. He let his head fall onto her shoulder as he took great shuddering breaths.

“In all my life; I had never once felt so helpless then when he took you from us. I always thought there was something lacking in my soul that I never once felt fear like the people around me. If there was a problem, I solved it. If I needed to protect my family better, I learned how. Nothing shook me. I did unspeakable things. Things that were necessary for winning the war. When he took you; I lost it. I turned feral, a wild beast that was let out of his cage to massacre its enemies. I thought I would be one of those men who would burn the world down for what I wanted. But I learned that I am a man of icy fury, stone cold at the center. I saw what I needed to do in every excruciating detail. I followed along the path of breadcrumbs like little butterflies that flutter from bloom to bloom. I was cold and detached and then you were in Draco’s arms relatively unscathed and I melted. I burned. I still burn.”

Hermione rubbed his back, not knowing how to answer his confession. She could feel the heat of him through her robes, as if he truly was on fire. His grip on her tightened as she moved to take a step back. He couldn’t let her go, she knew that. He was shaking but she also knew he needed something from her, forgiveness, understanding, reciprocation. It didn’t matter. She only knew that Abraxas, Lucius, and Draco chased away the agony in her soul. She had been vulnerable at Hogwarts, had been reduced to a weak doll to be handed out as a prize. Her hand tightened again on the handle of her wand. She was determined never to be caught so unguarded again. Whatever power that had surged in her core when Dolohov made his move, needed to be harnessed and trained so that even without a wand, she could defend herself from her enemies.

She pushed the fear to the back of her mind as she kissed his neck. She moved his hair to the side and wondered what he would taste like. He smelled so good that she ran the tip of the pink muscle past his jugular and along the ridge of the tendon. He moaned into her skin and lifted her as he walked forward to one of the many magically restored tables that the elves had placed in the library.

Neither one of them thought about Draco who had left to pilfer the kitchen. Whether he had come back and decided to give them privacy or was still in the kitchen was the farthest thing from their minds. At that moment, Hermione wondered if she would even care if he was at the massive doors watching. In fact, that thought made her even wetter than she already was.

“I need you.” Abraxas murmured into the skin that he had begun to taste and nibble. The sensation of stubble combined with his firm tongue made her think of all the places on her body that she would like him to explore. With gentle fingers, he began to unfasten her robe, going slowly, as if asking for permission. If that was what he was waiting for, she gladly gave it. He burned through her veins, the lust and need rushed through her body in waves. Her hands reached up to meet with his, taking over the task of disrobing much faster than he was going. She was impatient. She was ravenous, starving for his touch. She wanted to possess him as much as she wanted him to possess her.

Once her robe was laying on the table below her and her bra and knickers had been removed, Abraxas pulled away. He was too far and she frowned. His eyes roved over her naked skin. She was impatient but he kept just out of reach.

“I want to look at you.” He smiled sweetly, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. “You are so beautiful.”

“Come back to me.” She said, reaching out for him. Her eyes must have been as desperate as his because he was in her arms and pillaging her mouth within seconds. Her fingers scrabbled at his buttons, damning men’s wizarding fashion to the fiery pits of hell where they came from. Too many bloody buttons. His lips trailed over her collar bone and down in the valley between her breasts. His thumb teased the peak of her nipple. Blowing on the skin lightly as it puckered and elongated. He drew the dusky pebble into his mouth and flicked his tongue in time to his powerful sucks. Hermione threw her head back as the tugging on her nipple strummed the taunt cord that went straight to her core. The pleasure rocked her entire being.

The one other time she had had sex was a disappointment to say the least. There was no heat, no spark. Just a sense of missing something and the feeling that sex shouldn’t be so hard to get into, to enjoy. This was wholly other. He consumed her. Every brush of his hand, every kiss and swipe of his fabulous tongue was a new reason to fall into whatever this was. As he worshiped her body, she delighted in the way he treated her. As if she was his goddess bestowing her wiles on a mere reverential mortal. She had never felt like that until they came into her lives. How could a man so wholly masculine make her feel like she was the powerful one, the one in control? It didn’t matter. She drank it up as if he was passing ambrosia from his mouth directly into hers.

His lips moved down her body, her stomach clenched with the tender kisses he trailed on her. Questing fingers skimmed her thighs. Lightly, so lightly that he was barely touching her, his hands moved. They cupped the inside of her thighs and pushed them apart. He looked down at her spread before him as if she were a feast laid out solely for his enjoyment. His eyes glowed as he studied her groomed mons, and her glistening pink folds. She blushed, growing more self-conscious the longer he stared.

His eyes focused back on hers as he sank to his knees between her spread thighs. The first lick was like lightning. She gasped and arched her back off the table. She could feel his smile, the scruff of his face scratching the delicate skin of her inner thighs. He teased her mercilessly, bringing her close and backing off over and over again so that she was a groaning, writhing mess on the table.

“Please.” She begged, her head thrashing from side to side as she buried her fingers in his hair. Pulling him closer, grinding herself against his face. Or she would have, if he let her. He chuckled as he lightly flicked the sensitive bud until she was incoherent and at the last moment, right before she hurtled off the precipice, her sucked her nub into his mouth with a strong pull. She was gone. Shattered into a million pieces before riding the waves that kept crashing her as he continued to flick and suck.

“Ah.” She panted over and over, her over sensitized body, set her teeth on edge. He lazily circled her clitoris with his tongue and slipped first one finger that another into her wet passage. He slowly moved in her, turning his fingers, scissoring them until he was satisfied she could take him. He stood with one last kiss to her center and slid the gaping robes off his body. She watched in a half-lidded haze as he stripped for her, leisurely and with an arrogant smirk. Once he got to the placket of his trousers, her body had once again started to heat in earnest. He was exceptionally well toned and she could only think that it was a bloody waste that he hid such sexy masculinity beneath all of those layers and buttons.

“Like what you see?” He asked. His voice was low and husky. Seductive. He could easily talk a woman out of her knickers with a voice like that.

He moved between her legs and bent over her, guiding her legs around his waist. Running his fingers up her torso, he pinched her erect nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. His mouth was on hers, the salty taste of her mingled with the spicy taste of him. It was something that she could easily get addicted to. She could feel his heavy erection as it settled between the lips of her mons. He thrust lightly, rubbing his shaft through her body’s lubrication. Every time his glans hit her sensitive bundle, she gasped. It sent shock-waves through her whole body. Lightly she ran her nails on the ridge of muscles of his back, pulling a lusty moan from Abraxas.

“I’m ready.” She murmured. He wasn’t going fast enough. She needed him inside of her.

He reached between their bodies and lined himself up, pushing in only enough so that his tip was encased in her waiting warmth. For a moment, he looked down at her, an adoring look on his face. She was held captivated in his hypnotic gaze. All of the stars in the universe could have exploded in that moment and she would never have noticed, she was so entranced with his naked devotion.

He slowly moved in her, thrusting in time to the ticking clock behind them. He watched her, the way she bit her lips, the way she arched to meet him. Quickly she learned his rhythm, working with him to reach the primordial bliss that awaited. Hermione could feel her body tense and work itself back into a fever. He was hers. She thought fervently, her eyes narrowing with concentration and possession. She knew in that moment she could never walk away from them. They were in her blood, under her skin, wrapped around her very soul.

“You’re mine.” She whispered as her orgasm crashed over her, her nails digging into the tender skin of his back.

“Yessss.” He hissed. His thrusts turned irregular as her body clenched around him. A choked gasp was ripped from his throat as he threw his head back as his thrusts slowed and halted. His face was in the unguarded relaxation of post coital bliss. “I’m yours.” He murmured, his hands smoothing her wild hair.

**HGHG**

Dolohov woke up in a darkened room that stank of bodies and blood. The reek filled his nose and choked him. He was strapped to a cold table completely naked. His flesh pimpled and the fine hair stood on end. There was moaning but it sounded far away, the sound of prisoners who had given up long ago.

“Welcome back, Dolohov. I am so pleased you made it to the party.” Lucius purred, stepping into his line of sight, the only torch lit in the room casted him in shadow.

“Lucius.” He snarled. He was silenced only because the table grew even colder below him, his sweaty skin from the hot air sticking painfully to the metal.

“You are lucky. You have a three-day reprieve. I suggest you spend that time thinking of ways to convince Snape and I that we shouldn’t spend the next two weeks letting the life slowly leech from your body. If we were merciful, we would just kill you, but alas, that is just not how we were trained to treat our enemies. Especially ones who knowingly seek to harm our family.”

“I will not beg.” Dolohov declared proudly.

“That sounded like a challenge. I would be happy to prove you wrong.” Lucius moved closer and laid the tip of his wand to Dolohov’s neck. A spark of electricity was easily conducted through his skin and Lucius continued speaking as if Dolohov choking was a minor inconvenience.  “And I am sure Snape would agree.”

Dolohov panted for air as the muscles in his throat relaxed. He listened as the booted feet of Malfoy grew ever more distant, and the room grew hotter by degrees. The sweat rolled off his body. It became excruciatingly painful to move as he realized that his sweat had frozen him to the metal surface of the table.

Chapter Text

10

Previously:

“That sounded like a challenge. I would be happy to prove you wrong.” Lucius moved closer and laid the tip of his wand to Dolohov’s neck. A spark of electricity was easily conducted through his skin and Lucius continued speaking as if Dolohov choking was a minor inconvenience.  “And I am sure Snape would agree.”

Dolohov panted for air as the muscles in his throat relaxed. He listened as the booted feet of Malfoy grew ever more distant, and the room grew hotter by degrees. The sweat rolled off his body. It became excruciatingly painful to move as he realized that his sweat had frozen him to the metal surface of the table.

**HGHG**

Dolohov stared into the black void of the ceiling and began chanting in his head. He let himself remember and rage about his circumstances and who put him in here. The fucking Malfoys. He turned his head, trying to see anything outside of his small bubble of light and was immediately regretful. He had reopened the tear on his neck from where the skin had frozen to the metal table where it had ripped free time and again. Laughing filled the room; an insane cackle that reverberated around the room as if the sound was suddenly turned on.

“Who is there?” He yelled. Other than Lucius, he had heard nothing and no one, laying in the dark a solitary presence.

“I wonder if this new ability to hear each other is designed to break you or me.” said Bellatrix.

“Bella,” Dolohov relaxed as he realized he wasn’t alone in the room.

“They won’t ever let us leave,” Bellatrix sing-songed in a childlike voice. “we will never see anything other than this room for the rest of our lives.”

“Our master will come for us.”

“Oh, what faith you still have. They will take that from you too.” She laughed again. “No one is coming for us. They are going to take everything and more and you will gladly give it by the end. When I was the Dark Lord’s right hand, I believed that no one could extract information like him. I’ve come to realize that our jailors have outclassed our Master. They are creative. They crawl inside your mind and find your most terrifying fears and use them. But I have a secret,”

“A secret?”

“Before the world exploded around me, I grabbed some of their most precious things. They still don’t know that I have them.” She cackled loudly.

“Maybe you shouldn’t tell anyone.”

“I want them to find out. Oh, how they will scream when they realize that every single vial is broken.”

Laughter swirled around Dolohov, echoing in his head. For the first time since he was strapped to the table, he felt deep unquenchable fear. It was true that Bellatrix had been half mad for years. Azkaban did that to a person, he wasn’t firing on all cylinders either. She, out of all the Dark Lord’s followers, had become rabid in her devotion. To hear that she had given up all hope of being saved or even leaving this room alive shook him to his core.

Footsteps echoed off the walls and Dolohov craned his neck to see who had come and for which prisoner. Severus Snape slowly stepped into the light, a nasty smile curled his lips. Flashes of the times he had abused and used Narcissa flashed in his mind. He knew Snape was sweet on her, everyone did. Vomit filled his mouth as he came closer. For one second, Dolohov considered allowing himself to choke on the bile but he knew he couldn’t do it. The room wouldn’t allow it. He nearly sobbed as his throat cleared for him.

“Lucius said I had three days.” Said Dolohov.

“I’m sure he did. That doesn’t mean that you and I can’t get started without him.” Snape drawled as he leaned over the bound man.

“I didn’t hurt Hermione, I wouldn’t have. I wanted her. I wouldn’t have hurt her.” He began to beg. “And Narcissa was given to me. What was I supposed to do? Tell the Dark Lord No?”

“I think that is the very reason why Lucius wants to tear you to pieces. Hermione is theirs. As for Narcissa’s predicament, you could have made it easier on her. You could have helped me protect her. You didn’t. You never even hesitated.”

“Hesitation means death. I’ve seen it a million times and so have you. If I had shown any empathy for her, I would have been banned just as much as you were. None of us had choices.”

“You are a fucking coward.” Snape accused. “You desire the new world he has made.”

“No! I never participated unless I had no choice! In the beginning, I admit I was on board but after his second rise, I realized that we were not fighting for the traditional pureblooded world I wanted. I never signed up for this.”

“Pretty words, indeed.” Snape purred. Pulling out a jar from one of his many inner pockets of his robes, he began to unscrew the lid. He angled the jar so that Dolohov could see what it was.

“No!” Dolohov screamed as the tiny black bugs scuttled over and around each other. Snape smiled as he upended the jar, watching as thousands of ticks crawled over Dolohov’s body and buried their heads. Dolohov screamed and fought against his bindings, uncaring that he had ripped away all the skin that had frozen to the table. His wounds were openly weeping blood, an irresistible call to parasites scuttling over his exposed body.

“Snape, please.” He screamed, his fear palpable. The smell in the air was tangible.

“Tell me, what are Riddle’s plans? Who do I need to target? And where should I begin to take him down?”

“He is going to invade other countries, you need to protect Hermione at all costs. Never leave her alone. Ever. Offer him something else, something of equal worth. Then lure him in. If Narcissa is still connected, she will die with him. You will have to kill him whether they are connected or not. Snape, please! Get them off me!”

With a flick of Snape’s wand, the ticks were back in the sealed jar. Snape moved closer to Dolohov, holding the jar right in front of his face.

“If you are lying to me…”

“I’m not! I wouldn’t!”

“We shall see.” Snape said as he left, leaving Dolohov bleeding on the table. Dolohov screamed again as the room, unwilling to let a prisoner escape via death, heated the table- cauterizing the ripped skin. The table cooled and topical ointment was applied. Dolohov’s body shuddered with the shock to his system. As the door closed, the light died, leaving Dolohov to swing from sobbing to maniacal laughter. He was starting to get a better idea of how Bellatrix lost all hope of being saved. The Malfoys and Snape were truly masters of their craft. Snape had gotten everything out of him that he wanted. It was shameful how quickly he broke but ticks had always squicked him out.

**HGHG**

Hermione was lounging in bed; an open book was propped on her raised knees. Curtains danced in the lazy breeze that was flowing inside from the open balcony door. The only light source was a small floating orb that hovered over the pages of the book that had so enraptured Hermione. The quiet ambiance was disturbed only by a soft knock on the door.

“Come in.” Hermione called softly.

She watched as the door slowly opened and Draco stood uncertainly just inside.

“Hey.” He said.

“Hey,” Hermione closed her book and scooted over, lightly patting the bed next to her. Draco turned and closed the door and made his way to the bed. He sat on the edge as if he was prepared to jump up and leave at a moment’s notice. Hermione wrinkled her brow, worried about his stand-offish demeanor. She reached out a hand and placed in on his knee, her stomach swirling with dread.

“What’s wrong?” She studied the side of his face. His larger hand covered hers and curled into her fingers, holding onto her tightly.

“When the Manor was ruined, we couldn’t just leave. We found a room under the Manor that houses Sigurd Malfoy in a semi-alive state. There were paintings and treasure and memories. I broke one of the memories by mistake but I was able to save the other.” He pulled the silvery vial out of his pocket and handed it to her. The small pensieve was then settled in her lap, the book already moved aside and forgotten.

Hermione dumped the memory in the basin and watched it swirl before putting her finger in the mixture. Draco followed soon after.

Sigurd was sitting at the edge of a still pond, lounging with one knee up. His other leg was stuck out straight along the shore. The still water was being used as a mirror that he talked to. He only looked slightly older than his painting and the first memory of his that she had seen.

“Now that you know how to wake me using the previous memory, I just wanted to say how much I am looking forward to finally meeting you.” Sigurd said in his southern Norwegian accented English. “Something that you may not know about me, Hermione, is that not only was my mother a renowned seer, I am as well. I have seen glimpses of your life for as long as I can remember. I searched for years to find a way to come to you. I feel as though we were destined to share our lives and I want you to know and yearn for me as much as I do for you. Sigurd smirked as he twirled his wand between his fingers. His long hair was blowing in the breeze. “I left a journal for you to read. If I am right in my timing, you will not be yet married. I want my chance to claim your hand. Come to me as soon as you can. If for some reason the first memory is corrupt or broken, I have hidden a duplicate among the memories I have left for you. Take care, Elskede, and wait for me.”

Hermione pulled out of the pensieve and stared at Draco in surprise. Setting aside the pensieve, she moved to her knees facing Draco. He looked defeated, not even meeting her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into her embrace.

“He wants to take you away from me.” Draco whispered.

“I may not be married to any of you yet but I already made my decision. I have no idea how he could have seen me, especially recently, and not have seen the four of us together. If I were truly meant to be with Sigurd, I would have pulled him from death with the rest of you.”

“Except he isn’t dead.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Said Hermione.

“It does. What if you would have pulled only him had he died? What if out of all of us, he was meant for you? Maybe he is the man destined to make you happy.”

“I think it is very sweet that you are worried about my happiness but only I am able to decide what makes me happy. Please don’t pull away from me because of some misplaced idea that I would be happier with him. I need you.”

His whole body shuddered with repressed emotion. He hugged her back fiercely, dragging her across his lap until she was straddling him. He pressed his face into her neck, breathing deeply. Hermione ran her fingers through the hair on the back of his head, using her nails lightly, soothing him. Her cheek was pressed to his temple and she began to drop light, feathery kisses in his hair.

She could feel wet drops land on the skin of her shoulder. He pulled her impossibly closer, his arms a vice around her waist. She didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything to say. The comfort that he needed, craved, was her touch. He needed to assure himself that she was still here, still safe. She could guess at the panic he had felt upon waking from his terrifying dreams. It was a feeling that she, herself had grown familiar with. Over the years, it had become her job to keep the three of them safe and until that terrible day in Hogwarts, she had managed. It hadn’t stopped her from waking up in a cold sweat in the tent. She knew that she wouldn’t have been able to go back to sleep if she didn’t check on the boys. Only the loud snores and the soft breaths of whoever was on guard that night assured her of their continued survival.

“I’m scared that he will get to you again and maybe this time he will think that you are too much of a threat to keep alive. If he wanted to kill us that badly, he may target you to destroy all four of us at the same time.”

“He doesn’t want to kill me. He wants to control me and use me for his own purposes.” She murmured into his hair, her fingers still combing through his platinum strands.

“I can’t stand the thought of you away from me for that long.” He whispered against her skin, his warm breath making the small curls on the nape of her neck flutter. His lips tenderly met her neck, a lingering kiss that sent shivers up her body.

Hermione bared her neck further and moaned as he left a wet trail of kisses up the column of her neck and across her jaw. Hermione felt his fingers as they delved in her thicket of curls at the base of her neck. He pressed her closer, shifting, until he had covered her lips with his own. Her bottom lip had been captured. He tugged the tender flesh with his teeth and after releasing, he ran the tip of his tongue over the small hurt. Hermione had unconsciously fisted her hands into his hair, pulling him as close as she possibly could.

He chuckled into her mouth and untangled his hands from her hair to reach up and unclench Hermione’s hands on his hair.

“Sorry.” She muttered, embarrassed.

 He smiled wider and flipped them so that Hermione was on her back beneath him. He held his body up and looked down at her, his eyes roving her face. Hermione lifted her hand and cradled his cheek, her thumb tracing his bottom lip. His eyes grew dark and he lowered himself on top of her. Hermione explored the muscles of his back with her fingertips, admiring the sleek muscles he was graced with.

His mouth met hers more frenzied than before and groaned as her nails sank into his back. Lightly tracing her side with the palm of his hand, Draco slowly explored her. He paused as he cupped the swell of her breast, his lips still devouring hers. Hermione ran her nails lightly to the hem of his shirt and sank her hands underneath, pushing the material up. Her hands were on his abdomen and her heart began to pound as her body reacted to him.

He pulled back, reaching behind his neck and pulled off his shirt, throwing it somewhere behind him. Next, he unbuttoned his trousers, his eyes on her the entire time. He smiled devilishly as he pushed them off his hips and stood only to kick them away. His boxers followed and he stood still as Hermione studied his naked form.

He was tall and lithe, a thin but wiry build. His muscles were well defined and it was obvious that he was proud of his body, as well as he should have been. Her eyes traveled down his lightly haired chest. Stopping to admire the v of his groin, she had the urge to see how he felt. Her eyes feasted on his arousal. He was impressive, stiff and proudly jutting away from his body. Hermione used the tip of her finger to touch the small bead of moisture that had gathered at his tip and brought it to her mouth for a taste, flicking her eyes up to his.

Draco looked ravenous, focused entirely on the finger that was licked. Hermione reached back out and wrapped her hand around his shaft. He jolted from the contact, his eyes fluttering closed. Lightly, Hermione pumped her fist, going slow as she felt the entire length of him. Using her thumb to tease his glans, she lifted her other hand to cup his sack. His breathing came faster as she explored his body.

While gently rolling his balls in her hands, Hermione decided she wanted more. She leaned closer and licked his cock. Her mouth closed over him and she pulled him further between her lips. She sucked him, using her tongue on the underside, swirling around the tip before sinking back down. His hips began to jerk, his hands wound back into her hair.

“Hermione,” He choked. Hermione hummed at his desperate praise, pulling him closer until his glans was at the back of her throat.

Hermione let go of his shaft and reached around, digging her nails into his buttocks.  Relaxing as much as possible, she pushed forward, gagging as his hips jerked and he thrust faster than she was ready for. She pulled back but only for a moment before sinking further on his erection.

“Fuck!” He groaned. Her throat clenched around his cock and she pulled back, sucking and using her tongue. She felt as his engorged shaft pulsed, growing heavier in her mouth. Her lips were tight around him as he came. Even as thick spurts of his ejaculate hit the back of her throat, Hermione kept to her rhythm until she had sucked him dry.

Leaning back, she used her finger to swipe the dribble of his seed off his shaft and put it on her tongue. He was salty and slightly bitter, a taste that she could easily get used to. Draco dropped to his knees and grasped her ankle, lifting her foot so that he could kiss his way up her leg.

Her breath caught when he licked the back of her knee, and released it quickly as he nibbled up her thigh. He pulled her so that she was lying down and reached for the small cloth sleeping shorts, sliding them down her legs, before continuing with his exploration of her body.

Hermione sat up only enough to pull her tank top off and tossed it in the general vicinity of his shirt. Somewhere across the room. As she leaned back on her elbows she saw the admiring glance that Draco studied her with. His eyes roved her body, paying special attention to her breasts, waist, and mons.

She could feel his breath on her tightly clipped curls at her center as he moved in for a taste in much the same way she had with him. His tongue darted out, licking the line of her slit. He lifted her legs and set them on his shoulders and she idly wondered how he could breathe. He spread her lips and thrust his tongue in her slick channel, mimicking the way he would move in her. He swirled his tongue around her plump flesh and focused on the tiny bud. Softly, barely touching her, he used the flat of his tongue to tap her clit. Teasing flicks, firm licks, sucking kisses, and repeat were nearly overwhelming. Her extreme sensitivity heightened her desire as he took his time enjoying her pleasure. He was driving her mad. Using his fingers to explore her tight heat, he slid in two fingers. Hermione’s thighs clamped around him as her body clenched with impending orgasm.

Her hands fisted in the blankets, her whole being centered on the man between her thighs and his talented tongue that was focused on bringing her to climax. His fingers were busy stimulating her pussy, thrusting in and out, as Hermione’s channel clenched around them. Draco sucked her clitoris in his mouth and flicked the swollen nub rapidly. Hermione wailed loudly. Her orgasm hit her hard with wave after wave of pleasure engulfed her, dragging her down into a puddle of euphoria.

At some point, Draco put her legs back down and climbed on to the bed. He helped Hermione move up the bed and slide under the blankets, laying down next to her one his side and pulling her close. He spooned her from behind and glided his hand over her stomach. He smoothed his palm up and over her breasts, his fingers fondling her nipple. Hermione could feel his returned erection against her bum and arched back into him, teasing his cock with her cleft. He moved his hand over her hips and lifted her leg, laying it on his hip for better access. She could feel his hand slide between them to grip his cock and adjust position so that he was sinking into her wet and swollen pussy.

His hand grabbed her hips and helped her find the rhythm of his thrusts. He started of slow and steady but gradually picked up the pace, going as fast as the position allowed. It wasn’t long before he rolled her on her stomach and pulled her bum up. He settled behind her and plunged back in her pulsating channel, hands gripping her hips.

He bottomed out and they both groaned. The new position was a much deeper fit and her body reacted excitedly, releasing more lubrication to coat his cock. He was fully seated inside of her and only withdrew an inch before rocking back into her, his balls slapping her already sensitive clit.

“Ah,” Hermione panted, her eyes were closed as she reveled in ecstasy.

He moved fast then slow, her body taunt with her expected release. Draco sped up, and surged with his own impending orgasm. It was just enough pressure to throw her over the edge. She clamped around him, his culmination cresting with ropes of his seed coating her slick passage. They were both breathing heavily as they laid back down. Draco pulled her back into his body and fell asleep with his arms wrapped around her protectively. Hermione snuggled in and slid her foot around his ankle and fell asleep feeling cherished.

Morning came too soon as a happy sing song voice dragged her out of her dreams. The curtain was thrown wide open, letting the morning sun take over the room. She buried her face in Draco’s chest wishing that she would be left to sleep a while longer.

The bed bounced as something heavy landed half on top of her on the other side of Draco. Whatever it was trapped her body under the blankets, her one arm with it. Kisses were rained upon her back; her hair was pushed to the side as lips trailed down her spine. After reaching the base of her spine, he laid his cheek against her and looked at Draco who was struggling to go back to sleep with Lucius’ interruption.

“Morning, Draco!” Lucius said brightly.

 “Ugh.” Draco groaned sleepily. He cracked his eye open blearily before sliding out of bed, just as naked as he was last night. Uncaring if he was seen, he walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

 “Alone at last.” Lucius muttered between kisses, a smile curved his lips. “Spend the day with me. I have to leave on a trip and it will take me nearly a week to come back home.”

“Okay.” Hermione agreed, still eighty percent asleep. Lucius chuckled before moving and slipping into the spot that Draco had vacated. His fingers traced her face and her nose wrinkled. Couldn’t he tell that she was sleeping? Lucius chuckled again.

“I am guessing you didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“Uh huh.” She moaned with annoyance. Mornings were not her thing.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” He murmured. “You could have awakened the dead with your screams.”

Hermione’s eyes flew open and her face flushed with mortification.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” Lucius said gently. “It would be a travesty to deny the rest of us your lusty screams.”

Hermione scowled and reached above her head and grabbed a pillow and hit Lucius on the head with it, making him laugh.

“It’s so magical to see you two flirt in the morning but I am going to my room to sleep for another few hours if you don’t mind.” Draco grumbled before leaving, not even bothering to grab his discarded clothes.

**HGHG**

“Things are going to change.” Draco said as he sat in a leather chair opposite Abraxas in the study. Abraxas looked up from his correspondence, puzzled.

“Pardon?” Abraxas raised a single brow before dropping his gaze and concentration back to the parchment in his hands.

“You and Lucius treat me like a child. Every time something happens you say: Draco, stay here so you can sire Malfoy heirs if something happens to us or we have more experience or how about my personal favorite… you are too young.” Draco sneered. “Hermione is mine too and I am not going to be shoved to the back of every conflict because you tell me to.”

“Fine.” Abraxas said. “Is that all?”

“You are one cold son of a bitch.” Draco decided.

“Thought Lucius had an easy time of things, did you? I yearned for a father who cared enough to stay out of his cups and build the Malfoy name, to protect me, to work towards my best interests for my future and you are complaining because we didn’t include you and your feelings? We were being practical.”

“I am not complaining. I am telling you that things are going to change. I refuse to be treated like a child in my own marriage.”

Abraxas looked up and studied Draco’s determined face. A slow smile spread on his face.

“Very well, Draco, if you want equal treatment, we will give it.” He nodded to himself. “I have a pile of Gringotts paperwork that needs to be combed over to make sure that none of our fortune has been stolen by those swindling, greedy beasts.” Abraxas pointed to the desk that featured an intimidating stack of parchment.

Draco nodded, a smile curled his lips up at the corners. He grabbed the pile of documents and sat back in his chair. The only sound between the two men was the scratching quills that amended their documents.

**HGHG**

“Where are we going?” Hermione asked as Lucius pulled her through the Manor. She was smiling, a black silken blindfold over her eyes.

“You will find out when we get there.” Lucius said playfully as he stopped mid-stride. He pulled her off balance as he hauled her into his body. His chest was a wall of muscle that she felt through his shirt. Using her free hand, she stabilized herself but her touch lingered.

“Now Poppet, this is my favorite room in the whole Manor.” He murmured into her ear. “Ready?” Hermione nodded her head and he chuckled at her exuberance. He guided her into the room and stepped up behind her. He pressed against her as he worked the knot in the silk, taking his time. Once the knot came free and the silk scarf fluttered to the floor, Hermione gasped. The room was entirely made out of mirrors. The floor, ceiling, and walls. From the top to the bottom, it was a breathtaking effect.

“Wow! This room is incredible. I’m willing to bet there is a spell to preserve the mirrors from cracking underfoot and hopefully from showing what was up a lady’s skirt.”

“This room was not designed for visitors. It was made for the Lord Malfoy and his wife or betrothed. I am sure it was used to wonderful effect throughout the years.” Lucius smirked.

After appreciating the room for its beauty, Hermione began to laugh. “It would figure you would love a room of mirrors.” Hermione was laughing so hard that she was starting to develop a headache from the lack of air. She looked up at Lucius’ face. He was obviously offended and trying to hide it.

Hermione reached up her hand and cupped his stony face, still slightly hysterical. She felt a muscle feather in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. She got herself back under control and looked up at him.

“I’m not laughing to hurt your feelings, Lucius. You are a very handsome man and your favorite room is covered in mirrors. Surely you see the humor of it.”

Lucius relaxed minutely and captured the hand on his face as she tried to drop it. He held her palm to his cheek and leaned into it. Closing his eyes, he moved closer to her. He clasped her hand in his and lifted it to his shoulder, moving her other from his face to cradle in his own hand. His free hand slipped around her waist and held her on her lower back.

“I don’t know how to dance.” Hermione said. A lovely ballad began playing, and Lucius moved them into motion gracefully.

“Just follow me. I won’t let you fall.” He whispered.

The first few steps were stilted and she stumbled a lot but Lucius was patient. After a few minutes, she got the hang of the few steps he had her move through. She was surprised at the way her heart raced. They were just dancing but being in such close proximity to him made her body heat in response. They were only dancing and yet it was so intimate. He was staring at her as if she held all the answers. Hermione blushed and looked away.

“I have to leave the country for a few days.” Lucius muttered.

“Why?” Hermione asked, fear settling in her stomach. He had mentioned he was leaving but it only just hit her what that meant. Was it because she got captured? Hermione stumbled again as she tensed up, worried. Lucius pulled her closer and held her tightly, moving into a slower waltz.

“Severus found a way to detach Narcissa from Riddle but there is a hard to find ingredient that needs to be harvested. Since we can’t risk bringing Narcissa back inside the wards, one of us have to go. Draco doesn’t know of the place and Abraxas kills plants just by looking at them. Herbology is not something he is particularly gifted in.”

“Does Riddle know that you are leaving?”

“I don’t think so. My sources say that he, himself is out of country as well and will not be back for another week at least. It is the best time to go.”

Hermione nodded and relaxed into Lucius’ arms.

“I didn’t mean to kiss Draco and ignore you when you rescued me from Hogwarts.”

“I know.”

“You were upset.”

“It is not something that you need to worry about.”

“Really?” Hermione narrowed her eyes and stopped dancing pulling out of his arms. She took a few steps back as he tried to reclaim her. “I think it is my business if you are upset. Unless you don’t want me. I will not force you into accepting this arrangement. I know the four of us is a lot to get used to, especially that my other two potential husbands are your family. No one expects you to marry me unless you want to.”

“Hermione, that is not the issue. I obviously want you. Why would I bring you here, my favorite place, unless I wanted you?”

“I don’t know, guilt?”

“I admit that I was jealous but that doesn’t need to concern you. Jealously is natural in this situation and we are not going to burden you with it.”

“I don’t want you to hide it from me. How can I make it easier for anyone if I don’t even realize I am doing things to make you jealous? I am a part of this too. Don’t treat me like a child!”

“What do you want from me? To say that I didn’t want you to run into Draco’s arms and kiss him? That I wanted to eviscerate him for touching you? That I don’t feel the same way when you are with Abraxas or better still, that they feel the same as I do? We are Malfoys and we are possessive of what or who we perceive to be ours. Adjusting is going to take some time. You are not doing anything wrong. We are just learning how to do this.”

“Yes! That is what I want to hear if that is the truth! I do not need to be protected or left out of these feelings. You should not deal with them alone. I can help.”

“I think you need to leave this one alone, Hermione. You cannot fix everything and some things, like this, will take time to work through.”

Hermione set her jaw and glared at Lucius. He stared back, just as determined to win this battle as she was.

“If everyone is so jealous, why are we even trying to do this? Maybe it would be better if I married no one at all and left the Manor. Harry and I can defeat Riddle on our own.”

“Hermione,” Lucius said warningly. She spun on her heel and walked to the door, flinging it open to hit the mirrored wall behind.

“Don’t follow me!” Hermione muttered coldly, her hair flickering with white-blue sparks.

“I will damn well follow you until you come to your senses! You are being unreasonable!” He yelled.

“Unreasonable?” She yelled back, her face mottling red in anger. “I will show you unreasonable!” She flung a hex at him, automatically dropping into her dueling stance. Lucius managed to raise his shield to deflect the spell but his nostrils flared with rage.

“What the hell is going on here?” Abraxas yelled at them from the other end of the hallway.

“I am leaving.” Hermione sneered.

“Like hell you are.” Lucius growled.

“What did you do?” Abraxas turned to Lucius, clearly laying the blame.

“Oh, no!” Hermione accused. “He is not the only reason. All of you want to keep poor little Hermione in the dark and deal with your jealousies amongst yourself. No need to include me. I probably wouldn’t understand it anyway.”

“I never said that! You are putting words in my mouth.” Lucius hissed. His wand was clenched in his fist. He was still as a statue but the fury on his face was naked.

“You didn’t have to say it. None of you did. The only honest person here with their feelings is Draco. Neither one of you were ever going to tell me how deep this actually went! I do not want to be coddled!” As she finished her tirade, the house shook and the windows smashed.

Draco who careened around the corner had his wand out, looked for the threat, only to pull back in confusion.

“What’s happening?” Draco asked.

“Abraxas and Lucius have been lying.”

“Now hold on, I have not lied to you!” Abraxas said indignantly.

“By omission then. I will not be a part of a union that keeps things from each other!”

“Don’t leave.” Draco begged. Hermione walked the length of the hall and stopped in front of Draco, keeping both Abraxas and Lucius in her sights.

“You can come with me.” she said quietly. Without hesitation, without looking at either Lucius and Abraxas, Draco took her hand and led her to the observation room. The moment they had turned the corner, Hermione threw up the strongest boundary she knew. It wouldn’t take them too long to break it but it would give her enough time to put some distance between them. She was so angry, she could barely breathe.

The Malfoy wards had been replaced once they returned from getting Hermione out of Hogwarts and as Draco brought Hermione into the observation room, the orb lighted a three hundred sixty-degree profile of the property.

“This way,” he murmured as he pulled her to the back of the room where a small house elf sat in a tiny chair. The small elf leaped to her feet and prodded the small hole with her finger, waiting as sentinel at the top while Hermione and Draco descended the narrow stairway.

**HGHG**

Voldemort lounged naked in a private hot spring. In his hand was a small vial that held one silvery memory and he debated the merits of looking at it. It could be nothing or it could be something that the Malfoys wanted to hide. He thought back to the night he had found it.

Voldemort and his men had walked up to the rubble of the ruins of Malfoy Manor, following the magical tether to Narcissa. The stone crunched under his feet as he approached the doorway. Voldemort walked up to the door and was only stopped by the sound of rolling glass. He stopped and bent down, picking up a small glass vial full of silvery memory. He slipped it into his pocket and squared off against the door before blasting it away. Snape was on his feet in seconds, casting a shield that would make anyone cocky. Potter and Hermione scrambled behind him, raising their own. Voldemort smiled wickedly. This was perfect. Everyone he wanted was all together in this one room. Even the Malfoys were out of his way. He decided it must be providence, the universe conspiring in his favor. He released a deep, dark chuckle.

 He had barged into the room finding not only Narcissa but Snape, Hermione, and Potter. It was a dream come true. Once he had Hermione out of there and under his guardianship at Hogwarts, Voldemort celebrated his victory. It wasn’t until that night when he disrobed and the vial fell out of his pocket to roll across the floor, did he remember the tiny prize he had pulled from Malfoy Manor.

Chapter Text

11

Previously:

Voldemort had barged into the room finding not only Narcissa but Snape, Hermione, and Potter. It was a dream come true. Once he had Hermione out of there and under his guardianship at Hogwarts, Voldemort celebrated his victory. It wasn't until that night when he disrobed and the vial fell out of his pocket to roll across the floor, did he remember the tiny prize he had pulled from Malfoy Manor.

**HGHG**

Hermione followed Draco silently, moving slowly as they maneuvered down the tight spiraling stone steps. She felt like they had been descending for hours, each tedious step carefully placed so as not to slip. It was a major relief when they finally hit bottom and came face to face with a curious looking wooden door.

"Where are we?" Hermione finally asked. She was bursting at the seams with curiosity. It amazed her how long she was able to endure not turning the silence into the Spanish Inquisition.

Draco looked back at her and smirked, opting to push open the door in lieu of answering her question. He stepped forward and out of the way as she looked around in awe. Sigurd Malfoy was front and center, laying in a transparent casket, looking just as he did in the last memory she had seen of him.

"You weren't kidding when you said he was in a semi-alive state," she said moving closer to the casket and ran her hands over the smooth surface with curiosity. There were no seams, no hinges. The base was uncut crystal that looked like the center of a geode. Hermione skimmed her fingers over the surface above his face, studying the intricate braiding in his hair, on his clothes, and even etched on the metal of his sword. "You mentioned that the other memory was destroyed? In the memory we saw in my room, Sigurd said he made a copy. Do you think it could have survived the blast in the prophecy room?"

"There were a few that weren't demolished. Not many though." He murmured as he began rummaging around in one of the chests that seemed to hold Occamy pelts of varying sizes.

"Good. We should wake him up."

"We should wait and wake him on our thirtieth wedding anniversary or better yet, never." He mumbled quietly to himself.

Hermione bit her lips in an effort not to laugh, "He has been waiting a long time to wake up. How would you feel if it was you in there?"

"You aren't going to leave us, are you?" Draco asked nonchalantly changing the subject, pawing through the second chest of pelts, this one of manticore.

Hermione sighed and sat down, sliding down Sigurd's enclosure. She rested her head back on it, a pained look on her face.

"I get where Lucius is coming from. I do. My problem is not that the three of you are jealous. It would be weird if none of you were jealous. It's just that I feel like the four of us need to acknowledge the problem. All of us need to be conscientious and considerate of the others and that includes me. I don't want to hurt any of you because I wasn't thinking about it or that I didn't know. Marriage is hard. I watched my parents. They were happy but they had their moments. They didn't hide the rough times from me and I got to watch how they worked out their problems. The one thing that stood out above anything else was the need to be open about feelings. Lucius and Abraxas will never do this without me making this a big deal."

"You can't change them, Granger."

"I don't want to change them. I want them to make an exception about this for me, for our potential marriage."

Draco had moved from the pelts to one of the jewelry bearing chests and picked up a long strand of medium pearls. With a charming half-smile, he cradled the pearls and walked over to Hermione, squatting in front of her.

"Do you know why pearls are so precious?"

"Why?" She knew about pearls and how to care for them. What she didn't know was where he was going with this.

"Because you have to wear them all the time to keep the luster. The more you wear them, the more beautiful they become. If you deny them your flesh, they dull and eventually flake." He put the pearls around her neck and lifted her hair so that they would sit against her throat and hang down nearly to her navel. "If you push them away to make a point, they will grow frustrated. Instead of getting angry, try being more understanding. In both of their previous marriages, they were unions of necessity and duty. There wasn't much talking or working out problems. If you want something different, give them a reason to strive for it. Both Lucius and Abraxas will shut down if you continue to use your brash Gryffindor methods."

"Weren't you jealous?"

"Yes," He snorted and smiled, looking into her eyes. "you and Abraxas sent me away for food and I come back to the both of you screwing on the library table. I was so jealous, I could barely stand it. I left the room as soon as possible. It took me a while to calm down and when I did, I came to find you." He lightly ran his fingers over her lips, his eyes darkened with need. "You gave me exactly what I needed."

"What was that?"

"You," He said simply. "and I am not just talking about the sex. Which was amazing but I needed to know that you wanted me. They need the same thing. Lucius more than Abraxas I think. Understand things from his side. When he realized what you were to our family; what you were supposed to mean to him… I can't speak for him and his feelings but imagine falling for a girl you were intended for, who was then betrothed to your son because of a mistake you made as a kid. Now he finally has a chance to be with you and he has to share you with us."

"Why are you trying so hard to get me to see Lucius' side of things?"

"Because you want open honesty, because I hope to marry you someday, because they do too. So many reasons. We all need to work together, right?"

"Yeah," she agreed as he leaned in and kissed her lips. It was sweet and unhurried. He pulled away and sat next to her, resting his own head against the casket behind them. "I'm glad I was able to bring you back, Draco. I like this side of you."

He smiled at her and wrapped one of her loose curls around his finger. He leaned in and kissed the top of her head, pulling her into the cradle of his shoulder.

"I wasted so much time being an ass to you. I refuse to waste any more time."

**HGHG**

Voldemort strode into Hogwarts, the memory weighing heavily on his mind. Who was he kidding, not watching it was never an option. Children scrambled to get out of his way, his red-eyed glare even made the teachers veer off course back the way they had come. No one wanted to be noticed by the megalomaniac while he was in this state. Or at all if they could help it.

Voldemort ignored the people that milled around him as long as they cleared out of his way. He was on a mission. Ever since Snape had defected, the Headmasters office had closed off, refusing to let anyone inside. Today was the day that was going to change. Voldemort needed the pensive that was in there, procuring his own would be a pain that he didn't currently need. It would be easier to just break through the castle's barricade.

Once he arrived at the Griffin statue that guarded the Headmasters suite, Voldemort began casting. He started with simple spells, cutting, blasting, and anything else that would normally do the trick. Once he ran out of the easier options, he delved into the Dark Arts, sending wave after wave of curses. The Griffin shuddered but held his post, the wards lighting up like neon with every spell.

Holding out against him was futile, eventually, the guardian Griffin was defeated, and the wards fell like tatters in the wind. Voldemort took the winding steps up to the office and looked around with narrowed eyes. It was mostly empty. The books and knick-knacks that had been so highly favored by Dumbledore were gone, replaced by the stark décor that Snape preferred.

Having used the pensieve before, he had no need to search for it, only breathing a sigh of relief as he opened the cabinet and the large stone basin was revealed. A cruel smile twisted his lips as thoughts of having something of Abraxas' filled his mind. Abraxas had a special place in his psychotic fantasies. Abraxas Malfoy would be the last dissenter to die and by the time Voldemort was done with him, he would scream Voldemort's superiority for all to hear. No one left his service unless they were dead, except the fucking Malfoys. A mistake that would soon be remedied.

He reached into his pocket and drew out the memory. He lightly swirled it in the vial before dumping it out into the basin and leaned forward, bringing his face to sink under the surface.

A long-haired blond man in a dark blue tunic stood in a small room where chests of incredible wealth lined the walls and paintings and charcoal drawings lined the walls. In the center was a casket, the lid sat propped against the wall nearby.

A woman with light brown hair fussed around the room, arranging pelts neatly.

"Tova, leave it."

"Why do you have to do this? You have a family here. I am your wife. You have a son. Why can't we be enough?"

"She was meant for me, Tova. I've dreamed about her for as long as I can remember. I told you when we got married that we were no love match. I love her."

"How can you love a woman who hasn't even been born yet? Let your progeny claim her."

"My progeny, who watches as she is tortured?" He angrily gestured to the painting he had recently created. Hermione's torture in Malfoy Manor. "Are you going to try and convince me that those two men are not of my lineage? I cannot deny their parentage, even if I wanted too. She needs me to protect her."

"That is just a painting Sigurd! You cannot know what happens from this one glimpse alone. And what happens if she never finds this room? What if your memories are all destroyed?"

"That is where you come in. Keep the Malfoy promise alive for our son, encourage him to tell his son, and so on and so forth. The Malfoy line can only be strengthened by a union with her. She will find me. I've seen us together."

"You ask a lot of me, Sigurd!" Her hands were fisted at her sides, unshed tears pooled her eyes. He walked over to her and put his hands gently on her arms.

"You can marry whoever you want now, Tova. I know you are in love with Frode. He remains unmarried for you. Had you had the option, I know you would have chosen him over me but your father wouldn't align with the Sørensens. As my widow, you have the freedom to marry where you will."

"And what will I tell our boy when he asks me about his father? That you abandoned us to be with a woman who won't be born for a thousand years?"

"Tell him that I love him. That I did what I had to do and I hope that he would do the same for himself and our family." He kissed the top of her head and pulled her in for a hug. "You are a good woman and a better wife, Tova. I would not leave for any less a reason than this."

"You can repay me by giving that girl what you never gave to me. Make your love for her the love of legends and make this loss worth it. The world should hear your love story and write and sing about it for another millennium after you die."

"I've never deserved you." He murmured affectionately. She sniffed.

"Obviously."

He pushed her an armlength away. "Are you ready?" She nodded.

"To wake me, the casket needs an offering. It needs to be from her. It doesn't have to be blood, it's the magical signature that I have keyed it to. I think tears and saliva would work as well." He smirked. "All she really needs to do is kiss the encasement above my lips. It's an interesting piece of magic that I learned from a small Germanic tribe. Their queen had once used it to trick her stepmother into believing her death until she was bound to a prince who could protect her and help her reclaim her rightful seat on her father's throne."

"Will that girl bind herself to you by kissing your encasement?" Her eyes narrowed. "Such trickery is unbecoming of -"

"No." he cut her off quickly, catching on to what she was implying. "I want her to choose me. Believe me, I will revel in the victory of her heart fairly won. Put a copy of this memory in the memory room after I go? I want her to be able to wake me when she finds me."

"Of course."

"I hope you have a good life, Tova."

She smiled as she watched him climb into the casket. Moving forward, she arranged his hair and clothes for him, laying his sword along his body and left the hilt near his chest. She took a step back and drew her wand out of her dress pocket, levitating the lid over the casket.

"Bottoms up." He murmured before downing a swirling purple and black potion with red flecks. His eyes closed and his breathing arrested. The blood drained from his face, turning his already fair complexion, whiter. Once the lid touched its base, a flash of gold flared from the seam, sealing Sigurd in his diamond sarcophagus. Ropes of gold runes surrounded the encasement, enacting the charms that had been triggered by the lids reunion to its base.

Voldemort pulled himself from the pensieve with a thoughtful look on his face. How very interesting. He was fairly sure that Hermione had not awakened the Viking from his tomb and smirked. This was what he had been waiting for, leverage for her cooperation. It was the beginning of another sweet victory.

After he bottled the memory and stowed it back in his pocket, he left the Headmasters suite. The halls were clear as he stalked through them, heading towards the dungeons to bargain with Hermione.

What met him was empty rooms with broken wards, not a body in sight. He walked from room to room, noticing with a keen eye the blood smear on the wall directly across from the bed. He knew that Dolohov would not test his patience by harming Hermione. He knew that it must have been her who hurt Dolohov and was impressed despite himself. Time after time she showed him how intelligent, and resourceful she was. His lips twitched as he spun on his heel, searching out Dolohov and Hermione or the first Death Eater he came across.

Macnair was the unlucky bastard who had to tell his master that neither Hermione nor Dolohov had been seen since the day before. The Death Eaters on the premises had considered sending a search party, he had said chuckling. That was three seconds before he was on the ground screaming at the feet of Voldemort, the unchecked rage burning through the spell, intensifying it exponentially. Voldemort knew without being told, without knowing how that Hermione had slipped through his fingers once again and took one of his most devoted with her.

**HGHG**

Hermione and Draco had left their seats against Sigurd's encasement and Draco resumed the search through the treasure while Hermione studied the paintings on the walls. Pictures of her as a child, in Hogwarts with Draco, and even while being tortured adorned the room. She quickly skimmed over that last one, not keen to replay that moment again in her mind.

"Sigurd must have painted these, don't you think?" Hermione asked Draco.

"Indeed, Elskede," Sigurd's painting said. Hermione whipped around in a surprise. Draco sneered but otherwise, stayed buried among the many treasures. "Every time I had a vision of you, I painted it. It was the only way I felt like I could be near you."

"Sigurd, do you know how to awaken you from the casket?" She asked curiously. Draco paused in his pawing, waiting to hear the answer.

"I wish I could. I am a magical portrait, just an animated visage of the real man. Unfortunately, I am not privy to what he knew after he completed me. He made me for his wife and one for his son so they could talk to me while he was gone. After fifteen years, she hung me down here. It was the last time she stepped foot in this room. I believe that is when she moved off of the Malfoy properties."

"Damn," Hermione muttered turning back to study the paintings. "It was worth a try."

The door slammed open, and Draco and Hermione whipped their head up in shock.

"You don't get to lay judgment on me then walk away!" Lucius said through gritted teeth. "What the hell do you want from me? To not be jealous? To lie about it? You don't get to be angry with me for feeling, Hermione!"

"You're right," Hermione set her teeth and her feet shoulder length apart, readying herself for the new battle.

"Jealousy is perfectly normal and my feelings are not your responsibility! I will handle myself and I don't need you yelling at me while I am doing that!"

"Lucius,"

"No! Now it is your turn to listen. You can't just decide that you don't like my answers and leave. You didn't even try to understand my side. You want me to be honest with you? Then don't flip out when I tell you something you don't want to hear. My feelings are not going to go away just because you want it to!" He was breathing heavily, obviously worked up.

"Then don't keep it from me! I'm not angry because you were jealous. I am angry because the three of you weren't going to tell me how bad it was. This is not some little passing issue, Lucius! I don't think it will ever go away but there are things we can do as partners, as husband and wife, as family that would make it easier!"

"I can deal with it."

"Can you? For how long? Six months? Ten years? Before you explode and can't take it anymore and leave me?"

"I am not going to leave you. For too damn long have I wanted you, and far longer than I had any right to. I would rather die than separate from you now."

His breathing was ragged as he stood to stare at Hermione. Abraxas showed up a moment later just behind Lucius and laid a hand on the other man's shoulder. Lucius shrugged it off without looking back at him. It was not Abraxas that he was fighting with.

Hermione walked closer to the door until the only thing between them was Sigurd's casket and laid her hands on the lid, leaning slightly over it. Lucius was still in the doorway, not moving, not taking his eyes off of Hermione for one second.

"Is that what you want from me? To pretend that I don't see how this is affecting you?"

"Yes. I want you to give me the dignity of dealing with this alone because there is nothing that you can do to make it easier. Because every time I see you with them, I will still feel the same way and not being with you is not an option. I would rather battle my jealousy for a hundred years than live without you."

"I don't feel right about this," Hermione said frowning.

Lucius walked to the casket and took her hands in his, bringing first one then the other to his lips to kiss. In between kisses, he mumbled, "you don't have to like it. Trust me. Leave this alone."

Hermione closed her eyes. It didn't seem like this was a win for her, in fact, it felt very much like losing but she knew that pushing anymore like this would only result in more problems. Hermione decided to let it go for the moment, forgive Lucius, and take Draco's advice. She would let Lucius have his way for now. Remembering the old adage of not succeeding at first, try, try again. She strengthened her resolve. Hermione had never been a quitter.

**HGHG**

Narcissa was laying on a cot in the rebel infirmary and pretended she was asleep. It was easier for everyone involved. Even though she had a hand in saving Hermione's life and been held captive by Voldemort, the people of the resistance still didn't like or trust her. She understood. For many years, she had built this cold aloof image that practically screamed that she was better than everyone else. The image had been assiduously cultivated so that when Voldemort returned, they would not be hunted down as Karkarof had been.

Of course, that hadn't been the only reason, that is just the one she focused on so that guilt and shame didn't eat her alive. Just being here at all was more than she expected, although she doubted anyone in the resistance would be able to say no to Harry Potter. It was a surprise to her the level of kindness that she continually received from the boy that her family had once disdained and hunted.

"I know you are not sleeping," Harry said softly, taking up her purposefully limp hand in his. Narcissa rolled her head to face him and stared into his brilliant green eyes.

"Why are you being so nice to me. I know Draco was never nice to you and I know Lucius had tried to kill you on more than one occasion. Why?"

"What the three of you did for Hermione two years ago, indebts me to you. I love her, she is my best friend and has never left me to fight on my own. I would tell you that I think of her as my sister but that isn't quite true either. We fought side by side and saved each other's life more times than either of us could count. Our bond is impossible to describe. I never told her this but when we escaped from Malfoy Manor and couldn't go back for her, I went a bit crazy. I had decided to go in through the front gate to get her, calling in every favor I had ever been owed on both sides of the war. Then my coin heated up and it was her. She grieved for the three of you. We all did, but I made a vow then, that when the war was over, I would see your family exonerated. Now you are all alive and you have suffered more than anyone could ever imagine. You have my loyalty, Narcissa."

"You don't owe me anything."

"We are going to have to agree to disagree." He said with a smile. She shook her head. She was used to dealing with stubborn men. Once they got something in their heads, there was little chance of changing their minds.

"Helena told me that you are asleep every time someone come in. Why is that?"

"I hear what they say about me. They don't like or trust me. They don't want me here."

"They are afraid of the connection you have to Tom."

Narcissa shuddered, dread like a lead weight in her stomach. She was never going to escape him and she was going to lead him to everyone that she cared about. She couldn't allow it. For too long she had endured and hoped for her family to be restored. She wouldn't be the reason they died again.

Narcissa sat up in bed, threw the blankets off of her, and grabbed the muggle clothes that had been left for her when they took the robes she had been wearing. She had no time to be picky, she had to leave.

"Narcissa, where are you going?"

"I am a danger to everyone if I stay."

"Snape will be back soon. He wants to take care of you."

"I won't be the cause of his death or capture. I am going alone and you aren't going to tell anyone."

"If you won't wait for Snape, then I will go with you."

Narcissa spun around a furious look on her lovely face.

"You are the only one that can end this. If you are with me, he can easily find you."

"Maybe it is finally time for me to go on the offensive."

"You are just a boy." She whispered, sitting heavily on the side of the bed. Already her jeans were on and buttoned under the voluminous nightgown they put her in when she arrived.

"I haven't been just a boy in a really long time," He replied bitterly. "besides, Hermione would never forgive me if something more happened to you." Harry handed her the shirt from the bottom of the bed and turned around, giving her privacy while she stripped out of the nightgown and pulled on the tee shirt she had been given.

"Okay. You can turn around." She said as she sat back on the bed, fidgeting with the hem of the shirt. It just seemed too short.

When Harry turned around, his eyes widened a bit before he looked away. She was a good-looking woman.

"You know that Snape is brewing something that will sever your connection to Tom. If you could just wait a few more days."

"It is going to take him longer than just a few days. That potion will take at least a month to brew and that is conditional on obtaining Hazia. I don't think that they will be able to get any. The best thing for everyone is if I take care of myself."

"Fine. Where are we going then?"

"You are not coming."

"Yes, I am."

"Mr. Potter,"

"Harry."

"What?"

"Call me Harry," He slid his chair closer, a determined look on his face. "because where you go, I am going. Better get used to having me around."

"I don't need you to protect me."

Harry looked mock-offended, a mischievous look in his eye. He leaned forward, damn near twinkling and said, "Who said this was about you? I need you to protect me. Where better than to hide in the last place he would expect?"

Narcissa shook her head, biting back the chuckle that threatened to escape.

"It doesn't matter what I say, does it?"

"Not really."

"You, Mr. Potter, are a pain in the arse,"

"Yes, Ma'am." He smiled and settled back into his chair. "So, when are we leaving?"

"Tonight," Narcissa muttered grudgingly. She was touched and amused despite herself.

"Don't leave without me, Narcissa. I mean it," Harry said in all seriousness.

"Alright, Mr. Potter." She capitulated, knowing firsthand the bullheadedness of the male species. If he wanted to put himself in danger, who was she to deny him? She knew that Severus would not be happy when he found them both missing.

She reached automatically for the bedside table for her wand and pulled back her hand quickly as she remembered that she no longer had a wand, and hadn't for the last two years. Without a word, Harry held out his own wand, handle first to her. Her eyes misted but she blinked it back rapidly, refusing to show him the effect of his kindness. Slowly, she wrapped her fingers around it and smiled as magic swirled around her. It was the first time in a long time that she had felt complete.

Conjuring a piece of parchment, ink, and quill, Narcissa wrote a note for Severus. She sealed it with magic so that only he could read it. She hoped he wouldn't try to find her until he made the potion. If there was any hope of succeeding, he couldn't be worried about keeping her safe. She was not some helpless woman. She was just as talented as Bellatrix, and it was about time that she stopped leaning on others to protect her as she had her entire life.

"The first thing we need to do is get you a wand and I know just the place to start," Harry said.

**HGHG**

Hermione sat in the chair on the balcony in her room. She stared at the horizon watching the sunrise turn the sky rich pinks, oranges, and purple. After Lucius had followed her into Sigurd's lair, they had come to a truce and the four of them left the sleeping Viking for another day. The search of the remaining memories turned up more disappointment as they realized the memory to restore him had either been broken or lost over the years.

Claiming a headache, Hermione left before making her way to her room, alone. She knew that Lucius watched her. She saw the restraining hand of Draco's on his shoulders from the corner of her eye and she was grateful for it. She needed time to think about things.

The beautiful bathroom was put to good use, as she soaked in the tub. Pink and yellow foam covered the surface in a thick layer of scent and skin softeners. It left her relaxed and she had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillows.

She woke early with a start. Something had awoken her but she wasn't sure what. She dragged her sheet with her as she sat on the balcony. It was warm enough to go without it but it was more for comfort anyway.

A light knock sounded on the door.

"Come in."

Lucius shouldered the door open, a large tray laden with food in his hands.

"I thought we could eat breakfast together before I go."

Hermione smiled and nodded. The relief on his face was nearly comical. In moments, the food was set out on the small table next to her and Lucius took the chair opposite.

"It's not too dangerous, your trip?" She asked.

"I am leaving the country. There is always a risk because of that. I also have to meet with some of my old contacts which may report my whereabouts to the Dark Lord. If everything goes well, I will be home in a few days. You won't even have time to miss me."

Lucius reached forward and dipped a strawberry in a small bowl of clotted cream, and held the morsel to her lips. Her lips curved up slightly as she ate the fruit from his fingers, licking the sweet cream off of one of his knuckles. His lips parted as he watched her.

He stood and walked around the table, offering his hand to her, waiting, allowing her the opportunity to refuse. She didn't. Sliding her hand in his, she stood. Knowing that he was not just intending on dancing with her on the balcony. With a dip of his finger, he scooped up a small dollop of cream and spread it on her lips. She was in his arms, and he sucked off the sweetness and then his lips were devouring hers. The rest of the food completely forgotten.

He threaded his fingers in her hair, and Hermione had the feeling that only a blatant rejection would force him away now. She moved closer and her fingers explored the expanse of his muscular chest. Moaning softly at the feeling of the ridges of his body, Hermione opened her mouth at the gentle prodding of his tongue. He explored her mouth, caressing his tongue over every part of her.

Hermione unbuttoned his robes and slid her hand beneath. His skin was warm and soft, a contrast to the hard musculature beneath. Her fingers quested up his abdomen, brushing lightly over his nipples. She knew she had done something right when he sucked in a startled breath.

Lucius turned her so that her back was against the glass door and pressed her into it. His hands abandoned their position in her hair to tug her sleeping shorts off and her tank top was pushed to her waist. He cupped her breasts and leaned down to get a taste. Hermione took a shuddering breath as his tongue flicked her nipples into hardened peaks before lightly blowing on them, forcing the already stiff flesh, to harden further.

Her body was on fire, everywhere his hands smoothed and touched was a raging inferno. She needed those fingers on her, touching her, pushing her higher. He seemed to understand her whimpers and let his fingers trail over her stomach, down over her mons, and into her slit.

He was no stranger to a woman's body and found her bundle of nerves easily, moving his fingers in a circular motion. Her moans grew louder and she gripped his shoulders to keep from falling.

It wasn't long before she was close and he stopped, taking the time to shrug out of his robes and to unbutton his trousers, pushing them over his hips and down to his ankles. With his hands on the back of her thighs, Hermione was lifted, her legs were encouraged to wrap around his hips. He kissed her again as he lowered her onto his cock. Hermione rolled her hips, swallowing his groan and hers as she hit her clit against his abdomen.

Lucius pushed her up against the glass harder and thrust faster. His mouth occupied with the skin of her neck. Hermione was lost in sensation. His mouth sucking at her skin, his cock filling her deliciously, perfectly, over and over.

Hermione screamed as she came, her body clenching around him. Air hissed between his clenched teeth, the vein on his neck stood out as he picked up the pace. He was frenzied in his thrusting. It felt amazing as he swelled within her sensitive and gripping passage. Her hands wound in his hair as she pulled him back to her neck.

He stilled as he came, rolling his hips slowly as he finished. His head fell to her shoulder and his hands held her pinned to the glass. He took a deep breath and shuddered with its release.

"Lucius?" Hermione asked softly.

"mmm?"

"Are you okay?"

He laughed tiredly. "I'm fine. I just don't know how I am going to leave you now."

"You will be back so quickly that you will barely have a chance to miss me." She said saucily repeating his own words back to him.

He chuckled and lowered her legs back to the balcony floor. He redressed quickly, not having much to set to rights and donned his robes before helping her step into her shorts. He led her back to the table and they ate in a satisfied silence. Once they were finished, he rose regretfully and kissed her.

"Three days and I will be back."

"I can't wait."

He left her there, striding from the room as Hermione watched, her heart going with him.

**HGHG**

Voldemort dismissed the dementors as he walked through the damp halls of Azkaban. He stopped in front of a small cell and looked through the bars in the door. A man laid on the cot with a threadbare blanket around his shoulders. His face had sunken in, his once fit body now just a skeleton. He had been a prisoner for almost two years now.

"You are going to do something for me and because I am a merciful Lord, I will give you your freedom." Voldemort hissed through the door, watching as the man jumped from the unexpected noise that broke the maddening silence.

"What do you want?" The defeated man asked, his voice dead.

"I want you to deliver a message to Hermione Granger at Malfoy Manor."

"No,"

"Not even if it means I let Greyback have your sister if you don't?"

"Please," His voice broke.

"You will do as I ask."

"Yes," The man hung his head and stood still as Voldemort moved into his cell and thrust a wand into his hand. He lifted his scarred face to look Voldemort in the eyes.

"Instead of my freedom, I want my sister free."

"Oh, I can't do that, Weasley. I can't give Harry Potter his girlfriend back. But if you behave and do as I say, your sister won't meet the same fate as your late wife."

"Fleur," Bill whispered.

"I even have a friend for you to take with you," Voldemort said as a small blond girl stepped into the room, her hair dirty and matted. Her slight frame making her look like a fairy girl. Her wand trembling in her hand. Her eyes blazed with an inner fire so strong that it took Bill by surprise.

"What message do you want me to give to Hermione Granger?" He asked.

"Tell her to meet me in Godric's Hallow tomorrow at midnight and to leave her guards at home. I have something that I believe would be of great interest to her. Tell her I know how to wake Sigurd. If she refuses to comply, I will execute one of my prisoners every day that she does not appear."

Bill grabbed Luna's hand and put as much distance between them and Voldemort as possible, ignoring the rolling laughter that followed them out of the stone fortress. Once they were beyond the gates, Bill apparated them to the Burrow, or what was left of it and choked on his sobs. He fell to his knees and covered his face with his large scarred hands. The ruins of his childhood home, the backdrop. Luna wrapped her thin arms around him and held him while he sobbed.

"If anyone is going to fix this it will be Hermione and Harry."

"I used to believe it."

"Don't give up hope, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wants to talk to Hermione. It sounds like he wants to bargain. He never wants to bargain. He is afraid of something and it has to do with her. She is the key to the end of this war. I can feel it. It won't be long now." Luna wiped the tears off of his face and pulled his face to rest on her stomach. "Let's go to Malfoy Manor, the Nargle infestation here is out of control."

"Why are you here? He wants me to deliver a message, what does he want from you?"

"I have a message for Abraxas Malfoy."

"Isn't he dead?"

"He used to be."

Chapter Text

12

Previously:

"Why are you here? He wants me to deliver a message. What does he want from you?" Bill asked Luna.

"I have a message for Abraxas Malfoy."

"Isn't he dead?"

"He used to be."

**HGHG**

Draco had threaded his fingers with Hermione's and was pulling her down another hallway. After Lucius had left, Hermione had sat alone on the balcony for nearly an hour before Draco joined her. She had smiled at him briefly before turning back to the landscape in front of her.

Now, they were on their way to an unknown destination that had Draco excited. He was going to show her his favorite place in the Manor. Hermione smirked to herself. It seemed as if the Malfoy men had a compulsion to show her the best parts of the Manor in an effort to have her like it too.

Draco stopped and turned around, a playful grin on his face. He bit his lower lip and grabbed her other hand so that they were facing each other, holding both of their hands. He began to walk around the next corner backward, watching her face as if it was the most riveting show ever.

When they turned the corner, Hermione's confused gaze flicked to his laughing one. They were standing in front of a set of iron doors that looked straight out of the steampunk era.

"Your favorite place is in front of metal doors?"

"Of course not, Granger. It is what is behind the iron doors that I love."

"Okay…" She trailed off, confused why he wanted to see the reaction to a set of doors.

He leaned against the doors and a clanking, groaning sound filled the corridor. The door swung open of its own accord and they were blasted with a higher than normal humidity. The sound of running water and birds filled the air. The higher her eyebrow rose, the bigger his grin stretched. He let her hands go and watched her as she walked slowly into the room. It was an indoor rainforest, but even that description was inadequate. It looked like she had stepped into the Amazon. The ceiling was magically hidden, the walls- nonexistent. The large pond in the center was fed via waterfall, the tropical flora, and fauna in full bloom. The calls of various birds and insects filled the area.

Hermione looked around in wide-eyed wonder. Never had she seen magic used in such a way.

"Exquisite isn't it," Draco whispered in her ear as he slid his hands around her waist and pulled her body back onto his. Hermione nodded, unable to articulate the feeling of how utterly insignificant she felt in that moment. This is what magic can do. Magic applied just for the wonder and beauty of it. After another moment of silence, a burning thought entered her mind.

"How did the birds and wildlife survive the destruction of the property?" Hermione asked. Draco chuckled. It did not surprise him that the wheels of her mind were still turning even after seeing something so breathtaking.

"I have no idea. If you ever talk to Sigurd, you can ask him. He is the reason that the Manor was restored like this. We thought we would have to rebuild from scratch, so when you find out, let me know too. I am glad it did though. I can't imagine never being able to see this again. Do you want to swim?"

"I am not wearing a bathing suit."

"We don't need one." He said as his fingers began unbuttoning her robes. He kept dropping little kisses on her neck and shoulders that made her stomach clench with need. Hermione leaned into him.

He slid the robes off her shoulders and let them pool on the floor around her feet and hooked his thumbs in her knickers and pushed them down over her hips to land on top of the pile. He smirked against her skin.

"What a naughty witch, no Muggle clothes under your outer robes?"

"I didn't see the need."

"Nor do I," He murmured. Hermione reached behind herself and unhooked her bra as Draco dragged the palms of his hands over her stomach and ribs.

Hermione danced out of his reach and turned to face him as she stood out of his reach.

"Your turn," she said, her attention drawn the obvious erection he sported, still hidden by his robes.

Draco toed off his boots and made short work of his clothes and dropping his wand on top of it all before lunging after Hermione and catching her easily. He pulled her against his naked body and kissed her lips.

Hermione had just let herself go and leaned into his kiss when he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. He was quickly at the edge of the pond before he tossed her in. She wasn't alone for long, he jumped in, swimming to where she was and devouring her lips again.

Hermione ran her fingers lightly over the muscles in his back. She felt a rush of confidence as he moaned into their kiss, water gently lapping around their bodies. Draco held her hips, pulling her into his body. His erection brushed her stomach and she moved her body against his. She couldn't get enough of him.

Slowly, she trailed her fingers down his body, feeling the dips and valleys of his muscles. Hermione followed his treasure trail, lightly before cupping his erection and wrapping her wet hands around him.

His fingers were not idle as he caressed her breasts. When his thumb ran over her nipples, they stiffened into twin pebbles. Hermione arched her back. His light touches were driving her mad. It was like he was strumming a cord that was connected directly to her core.

Hermione slid her hand over his length and pumped. He sucked her nipple into his mouth, the faster she stroked, the harder he sucked. Hermione was in a haze of want and need, her body burning hot and frenzied.

Draco must have been feeling the same because he lifted her so that she could wrap her legs around his hips. He moved further into the water, the buoyancy of their bodies making their grinding and thrusting easier.

Hermione reached between them and lined him up, sinking onto his cock. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she brought him close enough to kiss, rolling her hips against him. His neck was flushed and his hands were delightfully groping her bottom turning her into a quivering mess on the edge of orgasm.

With a small smirk, he pulled away from her walking back to shore. Draco dropped her legs and reached for his wand that he had dropped on top of his clothes. In moments, there was a monstrous fluffy pillow that was large enough for three grown men to lay comfortably. Hermione giggled, wondering where in the wondrous mansion of Malfoy Manor he pulled this from. With a cute smile, he dropped his wand and pulled her wet body onto the pillow and ran his fingers over her legs and up her torso until he was caressing her face. The answer to the mystery of the freakishly large pillow would have to wait.

He leaned in playfully licking her from sternum to chin, making Hermione laugh even more. His eyes went soft as he looked at her, watching his own fingers trace her face. For a moment, she could have sworn that he wanted to say something but instead, he leaned in and kissed her lips. He ran his tongue against the seam and she opened- eagerly- excited to taste him again.

Draco spread her legs with his knees, taking himself in hand and entering her ready body. He rocked into her, hitting her clit with each thrust. His pupils were blown wide and he made her stomach quiver with the way he was looking at her. As if he wanted to eat her and if the last time was any indication, it was an experience she would never turn down.

Hermione was at the precipice when she shattered, her walls clenching around him. Groaning with ecstasy, Draco came with one more thrust. Rolling his hips into hers.

Draco laid down next to her and pulled her into his chest, closing his eyes. A sappy smile on his face.

"Draco?" Hermione asked, her fingers tracing invisible swirls over his pectorals.

"Mmmm?" He turned his head to look at her, a contented smile on his lips.

"How did Lucius get into Hogwarts to help me escape?"

"Sigurd's door."

"His door?"

"Yes. If you put your palm to it and bring an image of another doorway to mind, it will take you there. Sigurd warns against using the door too frequently though. Lucius didn't say what happened when he went through. In fact, he was very tight lipped about it and had quietly advised me never to use it. You should leave it alone as well if it unsettled even my father."

"It's the door that you use to get into the room?"

"Uh huh,"

Hermione nodded and the burn of discovery coiled in her stomach. She desperately wanted to go and test out that magic.

**HGHG**

Luna and Bill apparated to the front gates of Malfoy Manor and looked around nervously. Neither Luna nor Bill had been outside Azkaban prison in over two years and was justifiably apprehensive at Voldemort's promise of freedom for the low price of delivering a message. If something sounded too good to be true, it probably was. Although, neither had the fortitude to not walk directly into the trap that was already set and waiting for them, whatever it was.

Luna wrapped her tiny hands around the bars and whispered to the iron gates, so low that Bill couldn't hear.

"Let us in, we aren't here to harm anyone but we have messages to deliver to the masters of this property," Bill shouted at the still closed and locked gates.

"Really, and what pray tell, would be these messages that you supposedly carry?" Abraxas asked. He stood behind the gates in front of them but on the other side of the bars. His hands were behind his back, a cocky expression on his face.

"Voldemort sent us," Bill said baldly. He had met this man before in the course of his work with Gringotts a lifetime ago and suspected that it didn't matter how much a person knew about Abraxas Malfoy because he was only showing one well-tailored façade to the world. The enigmatic but overtly fair Malfoy. Bill had walked away from his working encounters with the man has developed a profound respect and had mourned when he had been told of the man's death.

Abraxas smiled and said, "Naturally. I didn't think you had gotten yourself out of Azkaban." He pointedly looked at the tattoo on Bills neck, indicating his incarceration.

"Yeah," Bill said awkwardly. He shifted his weight from foot to foot as silence fell on the group and Abraxas didn't move to let them in.

"Please let Hermione know that if she doesn't speak to us, the wrackspurts won't ever leave her alone. They are terrible menaces when manners are forgotten."

"I will let her know," Abraxas' mouth twitched with amusement. He turned away, leaving them standing outside of the gate.

"You are just going to leave us out here?" Bill demanded angrily. Abraxas stopped and his wand twirled in his skilled fingers over his shoulder before the solid iron bars of the gates became as inconsequential as smoke. Bill stood frozen, shock making him immobile. He hadn't actually expected Abraxas to let them in. Luna, however, was half way between them before Abraxas stopped again and looked at him quizzically.

"Are you going to come in?" Abraxas inquired.

Bill nodded dumbly and walked cautiously through the smoke gate, not entire trusting either of the responsible parties that put him in his current situation. One being Voldemort and the other, this not-dead Abraxas Malfoy. It was hard to get over that fact especially since he had attended the man's funeral. Granted, he had been half hidden in the back and left as soon as it was over. After all, Lucius and his she-witch mother were not high on his list of people that he would consider friends with, the Weasleys being blood traitors and all. The whole world probably sighed a breath of relief when that harridan kicked the bucket. Abraxas was probably relieved when he came back to life and she was dead. He would be.

Luna waited for him and threaded her fingers with his, probably feeling the trepidation of Bill as he approached the Manor. The place that had been Voldemort's safe house for years. She smiled up at him and he wondered how she pulled it off, looking so innocent and childlike when he knew of some of the horrors that she had endured over the years of her enslavement. She intrigued him, this blonde waif that impossibly seemed like the strongest woman alive.

Once Abraxas brought them into the house, he called the elves to bring refreshments and let Bill and Luna sit on something that wasn't grass or a lumpy cot in a lonely prison cell. Bill couldn't deny he was grateful for this. His bones ached with a perpetual weariness that seeped in during the first few months in Azkaban. Maybe it was the solitary confinement that fueled the feeling of decay inside himself but he had a feeling that living with the fear for his family and pregnant wife's safety and her ultimate demise was the real cause of his petrifying soul.

"You mentioned a message?" Abraxas asked as he poured tea for his new guests. Luna smiled gratefully as she savored the hot beverage. Bill looked at her as silence filled the room and shrugged. He would go first.

"My message is for Hermione," Bill said watching as Abraxas nodded almost distractedly.

"Abraxas," came a deep voice from the hall. Lucius stuck his head in, searching for his father. His eyes narrowed at his company. Distrust openly displayed, his eyes flicked to the tattoo on the necks of both Bill and Luna.

"Hmm?"

"I was going to tell you that I am leaving but if you need me to stay…" he let the offer hang in the air before Abraxas exhaled deeply and waved him away.

"I will handle this. You take care of what you need to and come home."

Lucius inclined his head and left the room, his footsteps ringing out on the marble floors.

"Why don't you tell me your message and if I feel it is necessary, I will pass it on," Abraxas said.

"Voldemort told me to tell her and that is what I intend. I don't care if you are there or if you listen but I am not going to sacrifice my sister for a technicality. So, if you wouldn't mind,"

"Hermione would be furious if you didn't tell her we were here." Luna rebuked.

"Emmy," Abraxas called. A tiny elf in a silk pillowcase popped in. She twisted the delicate material in her hands, as she bowed before her master.

"How can I serve, Master?" She asked.

"Find your mistress and ask her to join us. We have guests."

"Yes, Master." She bowed again before popping back out, no doubt to wherever her mistress was.

Abraxas did not seem inclined to continue the previous conversation with Bill and turned to the girl next to him. Bill bristled, already feeling protective of her.

"And what about you?" Abraxas asked Luna. "What message do you bring?"

"I was instructed to give it to you in private."

"Very well. Follow me." He stood and without a backward glance left the room, Luna trailing after him. Bill sat on the divan quietly but his lip was curled. He didn't trust the Malfoys, he didn't trust Voldemort, and he surely didn't trust the messages that they were forced to deliver.

**HGHG**

Harry wrapped his hand around Narcissa's, startling her as she waited in the darkness of the wood at the edge of the camp. She had said she wouldn't leave without him, and she didn't. She wasn't sure why she waited and had spent the better part of the afternoon arguing with herself about it. She would be better off on her own. But Harry had said they would get her a wand. It was an attractive enough offer to entice her to wait.

The last time she had a wand of her own, she had shoved it into Hermione Granger's hand right before Voldemort came and killed her family.

"Are you ready to go?" Harry asked jovially as if they were just going to Diagon Alley for some treats.

Narcissa nodded and wrapped her long thin fingers around his forearm. With a start, she saw a dark shadow move among the trees near them and before she could turn and see who had spotted them, Harry Potter apparated them out of there and to a small cottage on the edge of the sea. It had been neglected, a thick layer of dust settled over the house that looked as if it had been abandoned in a hurry.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Shell Cottage. It was where Bill and Fleur Weasley used to live before they were captured at a skirmish. Once it was secret kept but sadly, it's not anymore."

"I'm sorry." Narcissa murmured, looking around the small cottage.

Harry moved into the next room and brought up the floorboards beside the fireplace. A large metal box was hidden there, a hefty muggle lock secured the whole thing. Harry nonverbally disabled the wards that were put on the box and fished around in the small cavity and triumphantly pulled out a hairpin that had seen better days. It was twisted and bent as if it had been used and manipulated many times.

Harry picked the lock and set it aside opening the lid to show a large pile of wands.

"Where did you get all of these?" Narcissa breathed.

"Every time we had a battle and we killed or disarmed someone, we brought their wand back here and put it in the cache. For a while, we kept them with Hermione in her bag but we decided that would be a poor idea if it was ever taken." Harry muttered. "I do wonder where Draco, Lucius, and Abraxas got the wands they are using now."

"They kept a spare hidden in one of the rooms and Abraxas' wand was kept in the family crypt. I suppose they could have also looked through those wands."

Harry handed Narcissa wands, one after another until she found one that felt comfortable enough to use. Red and purple flowers erupted out of the tip of a blond oak wand and she smiled at the obvious affinity.

"This is the one," she murmured happily. The handle had a pair of initials carved onto the end. A.T. Narcissa wondered who it could be.

Harry smiled a little shaky. "Perhaps that shouldn't have surprised me. Andromeda was your sister, after all. I was there- you know- when she died. Hermione and Ron and I went to her home to tell Tonks that Lupin had died in a battle. When we got there, the house was on fire, Teddy was missing, and Andromeda and Tonks' dead bodies were laying on the front garden. We never did find Teddy.

Tears had sprung in her eyes and her fingers covered her trembling lips. She missed the opportunity to ask her for forgiveness for all of those years that she cut off her once beloved sister. All the things she wanted to say to her… it didn't matter anymore but she was thankful that the wand recognized in her something worth being allied to. She had something of her sister.

"Teddy was never brought to the school, nor did they say anything within my hearing about the boy," Narcissa mumbled.

"I don't know if that is good news or not," Harry sadly said. He pushed his hair out of his face, the black hair had grown nearly to his shoulders. It had been a while since Hermione had given him that haircut while they were still in Albania. "Where to next?"

"Why don't we do something productive and find my nephew."

Harry smiled, a glint of approval and admiration breaking through.

"Just because I wasn't in Voldemort's select group, doesn't mean I am not extremely skilled in battle. The wife of a Malfoy must be intelligent and powerful so that the next generation will reap the benefits. Had I not met the criteria, pregnant or not, I wouldn't have been allowed to marry in the family. Bunch of arseholes, the Malfoys." She gave him a lopsided smile and he helped her up off the floor.

"Where to first, Narcissa?"

"The place where Andromeda and my niece died."

"Hold on tight." He said as he offered his arm for her to take. She did and took a deep breath before Harry apparated them to the former home of Andromeda and Ted Tonks. The shadow moving out of the corner of her eye.

**HGHG**

Abraxas left the table unsettled. The Lovegood girl had given him the message she was bid by Tom Riddle. 'Say goodbye to your witch, because she is going to come to me willingly and once I have her. I will not let her go so easily.' Abraxas snorted.

Riddle was an arrogant berk, and it wasn't an unusual thing for him to make threats and lies to manipulate all of the people he needed to use. Abraxas knew that Riddle wasn't interested in her the way he was. It was her power and Merlin's name that drew him to her. Not that he could blame Riddle. After all, isn't that what the Malfoy family had been doing for generations?

If that was the only message, he was sure that he wouldn't give the threat any weight, however, there was a second message, Bill's message to Hermione. The message that Luna had heard and relayed to him in the other room, separate from Bill.

Riddle was known for using underhanded methods and endeavored to get a hold of Hermione and that was not something that he could allow. With the threat of her friends lives hanging in the balance, there was no way that she wouldn't try to go. She wouldn't try and leave the wards in the normal way, she was too smart for that. No, she would try and sneak out of the Manor and there was only one way that he knew of that wouldn't alert the wards and that was Sigurd's door. He was desperately hoping that she hadn't been informed of the new mode of travel but he didn't bank on it. She would try and leave at night when it would be harder for them to track her. Abraxas resolved to lie in wait for her at the prophecy room. He would see her coming a mile away.

Abraxas walked into the torture chamber and curled his lip in disgust. It stank in there. Sweaty bodies, human waste, and an oppressive heat made it all unbearable. As if the room heard him loud and clear, the air in the room was replaced with new fresh air; the piles of refuse and waste were magically cleared, and the unbound prisoners were given food and water.

He wasn't a monster. He was properly appalled. The room was as sentient as the rest of the house but this room was specifically built to break its prisoners. The conditions would match the greatest need and apparently the room was playing bad cop to Abraxas' good cop if that was even possible.

It was quiet in the room, not a single noise could be heard. It reminded him of the way the glade sounded after the meadow was blanketed with snow. There was a hush over everything.

Abraxas looked over at the reddened body of Dolohov and curled his lips again with disgust. He was Lucius' special project, therefore would be left alone. Abraxas walked to Bellatrix's table. Her face was puffy from the magical burns and frostbite that he had used to give her a copy of the artwork she left on Narcissa's face. The only differences were the color. Where Narcissa's face was a pretty lilac and silver color, Bellatrix's was red, bright red. Her tears had coursed down the sides of her cheeks which were swollen with infection, the area obviously causing her great pain.

"Water," She begged blindly, her face was so swollen hat she couldn't open her eyes.

Abraxas conjured a simple silver cup and filled it with cold water. He slid his arm under her head and supported her as he raised the cup to her lips. She gratefully drank the water with large desperate pulls until she began to choke.

He waited until she was settled and pulled away the cup, vanishing the cup into thin air. Bringing his wand up to her face, he sang a healing spell. The scars were deep and set, he knew because he had cursed them, ensuring that she could never be rid of them. He gave her a permanent reminder of what she had willingly done to her sister.

Bellatrix cried with relief, she tried to bring her hands up to her face so that she could feel the whirls that were burned into the dermis of her face.

"Bellatrix, are you ready to answer some questions for me?" He asked softly, conjuring a chair to sit in next to her. After another second of thought, he conjured a second chair and released her from the restraints. She sat up slowly and brought her wrists together to rub them. She had laid prone for three days. Three days of being tied to the table. Three days of excruciating pain. Three days of her faith in Voldemort breaking.

Abraxas was looking at her kindly. Out of all the torture, the pain, the inhumane treatment, this was perhaps the worst of it all. Using aftercare and twisting around logic, Abraxas was going to turn her mind against her former master to become his willing and devoted slave. Abraxas knew that death would be kinder. He was literally going to destroy her with kindness.

"Do your wrists hurt?" He asked. She nodded her head like a tiny child and held them up for inspection. He healed them nonverbally and patted her head, earning him a small trembling smile in return.

Suddenly he wasn't so sure this was the right trek to go. How twisted was he that he was coldly and willingly breaking her mentally? Wasn't this crossing a line that he could never return from? War was ugly, yes, but this…

"Will you tell me about your master?"

"He didn't come for me,"

"No,"

"He won't."

"You don't know that," Abraxas said, crossing his legs.

"I do. He considers you his biggest obstacle. Even after you died, you were the one that got away. He will try and cut you off at the knees and he will consider his lost followers a worthy sacrifice if taking you down is the end game."

"What do you want then, Bellatrix?" He couldn't go through with it, emotional manipulation was in many ways much more damaging than physical torture. How could he look Hermione in the eye? He changed track hoping that within Bellatrix was a burning passion that wouldn't endanger Hermione in the ongoing war.

"I don't know… power. Enough power so that no one will ever belittle me again."

"Have you considered that Tom Riddle will not win against us? What will your life look like if that is the case?"

"He has already won, he is just working on cleaning house. Harry Potter has to die. Until that happens, we are still at war."

"He will never be satisfied with Britain alone, you must see that. Tom has no interest in your pureblooded politics. His goal is to be the uncontested leader of all the magic communities. He doesn't care about you or anyone else. If you had no more ties, were no longer bound to the Lestranges, if you could do anything, what would it be?" Abraxas asked.

"If I only had to do what I wanted and throw everything else to the wind, I would like a little girl. I always wanted to be a mother."

"There are many war orphans who need loving homes." He said. He grimaced, someone would have to be crazy to give Bellatrix a child to raise.

**HGHG**

Hermione walked into the sitting room, a smile still on her lips from her little jaunt in the rainforest room with Draco. Abraxas and Luna were still indisposed in another room. When she walked in she froze, not knowing at first why she was summoned but the moment Hermione saw Bill, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a hug, her arms tightening to the point of Strangulation.

"Hermione," He mumbled into her neck.

"We thought you were dead!" She cried. "When Nagini was killed, Voldemort said he killed twelve of the prisoners of war. Your name was on the list."

"As far as I know, he didn't kill any of his prisoners, although, I have to admit that I was rather cut off in my cell." His cheeks were hollowed out with hunger, his once athletic and muscled frame was now ravaged by what he had to endure in prison. There was a haunted look in his eyes.

"And Fleur? Ginny? Did they make it?"

Bill winced, tension coiling under his skin. "Ginny is in Azkaban still but Fleur… she didn't make it."

"I'm sorry, Bill. Do you know how she died?"

"Greyback. She was pregnant, you know. She should have never gone with me. She should have stayed at Shell Cottage. Maybe if I had insisted, she would still be alive."

"Bill, no. You can't think like that."

His lips twisted and said, "He sent me to you. Told me if I didn't do as he wanted, he would give Ginny to Greyback. I couldn't let that happen. He also is giving me this freedom, but somehow, I doubt the validity of that claim. He has something in mind, and it probably will get everyone I love left, dead."

"Why did he want you to find me?"

"He has a message for you."

"Oh?"

He wants you to meet him in Godric's Hallow tonight at midnight, alone. If you don't, he is going to execute a POW each day you fail to show. My personal opinion is that you shouldn't go."

"And let all of our people die? You know I can't do that Bill."

Bill pulled away from Hermione and put some space between them, sitting back down on the divan. Abraxas walked in, agitated, barely being civil and deep in thought. Luna was supremely uninterested in such mundane things such as messages, and death threats.

"Hello, Hermione! Welcome to the family."

"Family?"

"Abraxas's sister is my grandmother on the Lovegood side."

"That's nice," Hermione mumbled, her thoughts whirling as she tried to make a plan. There were two truths here, the first, that she would have to meet Voldemort alone, and second, that she had to leave the Manor without Abraxas and Draco. The latter being the trickiest part.

The wards would clue them in the moment she attempted to leave and she knew that neither one of them would ever consent to stay behind. She bit her lip, her mind a million miles away.

Abraxas seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts and turned to Bill. "I will have one of the elves prepare a room for you both. In the meantime, would you like something to eat?"

Luna smiled and said, "That would be great. Some broth and crusty bread. I don't think I can handle anything more until I am used to eating again. It was one of the punishments they would give to me when they felt like I needed to be punished. I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to keep anything else down." Luna sat next to Hermione and began petting her curls. Hermione tried to stifle her uncomfortable feelings at being pet like a cat. It didn't appear to bother Luna at all.

"Emmy," Abraxas called. The house elf popped in, bowing low.

"Master, how can I serve?"

"I need two guest rooms prepared and some broth and bread."

"Yes, Master." Another bow before she popped away again.

Hermione caught Abraxas looking at her and not in the way that she was used to. He wasn't looking at her tenderly, nor was he thinking naughty things. No, he looked focused as if he was trying to figure out whatever that she was planning. How could that be possible, she thought. It wasn't like he had heard Bill whisper his message into her neck. She looked down at the floor. She knew that he was a Legilimens, but was unsure if the spell could be nonverbally done. Wouldn't it just be her luck that he already knew her plans?

Her head snapped up as an idea began to form. Maybe she could get around the warding issue. She wasn't sure but Sigurd's door could be used in an emergency. If this wasn't the perfect reason, she didn't know when there would be one. Once the thought entered her head, she shoved it back, hoping that Abraxas hadn't seen it.

Emmy popped in and announced that lunch was served in the formal dining room and the group followed the tiny elf. Hermione had a long while to go before she needed to leave. After all, it was only midday. She would need all that time to figure out the logistics of making her plan happen. How to get to Sigurd's chamber without being caught was the main one. Perhaps she could meander to the prophecy room and see if the Manor was replacing those memories too. Hermione rather thought that if the elves could reestablish the Manor with even the birds and wildlife in the Rainforest room, they could restore all of the memories too.

Draco joined them a short time later and their lunch was served, a simple tomato risotto for Hermione and the Malfoys and beef broth for the two former Azkaban inmates. Lunch was a quiet affair. Abraxas was withdrawn and often shot Hermione confusing looks from his place at the head of the table.

It was dreadfully uncomfortable for Draco. He kept shooting Luna worried looks. She was serene and unbothered as if it were every day that people who were confirmed dead were once again alive. Hermione surmised that Draco was feeling guilty that Luna had once been held by them in this very house.

Not one of them hid their relief as luncheon ended and Emmy showed them to their rooms. Abraxas wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin and set it aside. He kissed Hermione on the cheek as he left, but continued with his silence. Draco gave her a shaky half smile before going off to his room, leaving Hermione behind.

If there was any time for an escape plan to be hatched, it would be then. Not wanting to call attention to herself, Hermione slowly meandered the maze of corridors headed in the general direction of the observation room. She wondered if walking in there would set off any alarms. If Abraxas didn't come running, she could be sure that she would be able to leave through Sigurd's room.

When she pushed open the door, she immediately caught sight of Sigurd's ruined painting. The spell made the oils bubble and run together, looking for all the world like an unexpected convergence of colors.

Her lips thinned. She wished the painting hadn't been ruined. She could have used some council. Wondering if his painting could even be fixed, Hermione ran her hands over the canvas. It would be a shame if it couldn't be.

She had studied the painting for a while and relaxed as neither of the Malfoys came to steer her away. She willed her churning stomach to behave before leaving the room in favor of her own. She spent the rest of the afternoon ensconced in her room organizing her beaded bag, refilling all of the perishable contents with the help from Gilkey. Just in case. Hermione wryly surmised that this elf was planning on ratting her out to Abraxas and kept the elf busy so that she would be unable to report Hermione's movements back to her master. Going so far as to make up inane tasks. There was a shrewd gleam in the elf's eyes that made Hermione nervous. She wondered if the elf was keeping Abraxas apprised of the situation in between completing Hermione's requests. There was no way to find out unless she asked and she was not about to bring up the very thing she was trying so hard to hide.

It was much later when Draco knocked on her door. She smiled at him, setting the book aside that she had been trying to read with relief.

"Hi," Hermione said.

"Hey," Draco murmured.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, watching as he walked into her room and kicked off his shoes and climbing into bed with her.

"When she was kept in the dungeons, I would sneak her food. She was so thin and small and looked as if one missed meal would be the end of her."

"She doesn't blame you, Draco. When Dobby took them out through the wards, they were taken to Bill's house. It is where I recuperated from the torture and the confusing feelings I had regarding your death. We talked a lot since we shared a room and neither one of us could sleep. She told me how kind you and your family was to her. She was very saddened to hear of your death."

"I should have helped her escape."

"Could have, should have, would have. It's easy to second-guess yourself now that it's all over." Hermione smoothed the hair back away from his face and dropped a kiss on his cheek.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down. Hermione turned so that Draco was curled around her back. He brushed her curls out of his way, and nuzzled her neck, running his stubble along the tender skin. He pulled her closer and sighed.

His breath began to deepen and even out, falling asleep while holding her tightly. Hermione rubbed his forearm, lightly playing with the hair that covered them. Hermione laid like that for as long as she dared.

It was harder than she anticipated, getting out of his grip because every time she wiggled, Draco would pull her in tighter. If it wasn't so sweet, Hermione would have been exasperated. After successfully extracting herself from Draco's arms, she tiptoed across the room, opening and closing the door with a stealthy care. She felt like a ninja, staying pressed against the walls and tried to keep hidden in the shadows.

She was nearly in the observation room when a highly amused deep voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Going somewhere?" Abraxas asked.

"Oh, I couldn't sleep so I decided to walk to the prophecy room and make my way through the remaining memories." Her eyes were wide with fake innocence.

"Well in that case," he said smirking. "it would be ungallant of me to leave you alone. I can watch with you and help you with context as I have seen all the memories before."

"That's not necessary. I don't want to keep you from your sleep."

"It's much too late for that, Love." He purred as he sauntered over to her, encroaching on her personal space. He ran his finger up her arm and she shivered. His pupils grew. "If you don't want me to watch the memories with you, I have a proposition for you. You can come to bed with me and I will make sure you aren't bored and I promise to wear you out enough so that you easily fall asleep in my arms. I feel that this offer is a win-win for both of us."

"Abraxas,"

"Yes, Love." He purred, much too close. His breath was ghosting across her temple and it made her heart race.

"Wait for me," She breathed before whipping around and throwing the door to the observation open. She felt his hands reach for her and meet air. Twirling her wand in her hand, she slammed the door closed, Abraxas's furious pounding filling the room.

"Emmy!" Hermione summoned frantically, knowing that the spell she used on the door wouldn't last long with Abraxas determined to get inside.

"Yes, Mistress. How may I serve?"

"Please open the stairway to Sigurd's chamber."

The elf bowed and pushed the tiny button. Hermione was startled with the crash of the door violently opening and slamming against the wall behind it. For a moment, she stood like a deer in headlights as Abraxas's magical aura proceeded him into the room. His eyes were wells of fire. She ran into Sigurd's ruined painting, cutting her hand in the process. She didn't have time to deal with it now.

Panicking, she ran for the passageway and closed the door behind her, unwittingly sealing the door in her need to ditch Abraxas. She was going to be in so much trouble when he finally caught up to her.

Hermione ran down the spiral steps as fast as she could, her feet occasionally slipping on the too small stones. Blood was dripping from her hand where she had cut it on Sigurd's destroyed painting as she ran into it before Abraxas could catch up to her. She couldn't allow him to stop her when so many lives were on the line. She didn't care so much about what Voldemort claimed to have for her but more than that, she knew he would make good on the threat to kill one of her allies every day that she failed to show. She owed her allies and friends better than that. The message had been clear. Come to Godric's Hallow at midnight, alone.

The moment her feet hit bedrock, Hermione launched herself at the door. It swung open and she stumbled through, catching herself with her hands, on Sigurd's encasement. The moment she got her body back under control, she turned around, slammed the door, and pressed her uncut palm to the buttery wood- chanting her destination over and over- hoping she had enough lead on Abraxas so that she could leave. When she returned, she was going to have to face his undeniable and justified wrath. She shuddered as the door pulled her into the dark abyss, the only light was a candle illuminating an old crone.

Chapter Text

13

Previously:

The moment her feet hit bedrock, Hermione launched herself at the door. It swung open and she stumbled through, catching herself with her hands, on Sigurd's encasement. The moment she got her body back under control, she turned around, slammed the door, and pressed her uncut palm to the buttery wood- chanting her destination over and over- hoping she had enough lead on Abraxas so that she could leave. When she returned, she was going to have to face his undeniable and justified wrath. She shuddered as the door pulled her into the dark abyss, the only light was a candle illuminating an old crone.

**HGHG**

Hermione stepped into a darkened world, a chamber with a single candle lit on a rough-hewn table with an old woman sitting on the chair behind it. The crone's face was shadowed giving her a spooky feel. Cautiously, Hermione walked to the table and sat in the seat opposite.

"Welcome, Hermione Granger, to the end of the world. Every time you choose to use the door you will be told one truth about your life as payment for passage. If you are willing to continue, take my hand. If you are not, you may leave this one time- by the same way you came. This courtesy will only be offered once. How do you choose?" She croaked.

Hermione swallowed nervously and slipped her shaking and bleeding hand into the crones withered appendage. The crone smiled at her as if all the secrets of the world were her burden and amusement, the struggles of mortal men so far removed from her existence that she no longer pitied them. Hermione supposed that if she were to know all the truths of every being alive and dead and those yet to come, she would soon lose her humanity too.

"So be it, Daughter of Merlin," she said in her low croaking voice. The dark room around them transformed and light filled the room. Hermione looked around in awe as they were now sitting in the living room of her childhood home. The crone drew her attention when she began to speak. Hermione's eyes had gone soft and she felt a deep well of pity spring up within her. What a terrible life this elderly relic had to see and yet never able to be a part of the human condition.

"Time for us is inconsequential here and as a rule, we do not guess when things will come to pass if they had not yet already happened. Hermione, there will come a time that the woman who considers herself as your mother will give her life for yours. She will do it purely out of love and you won't understand her until the moment you lose her. Her death will leave a great hole in your heart." The crone looked at her sadly as countless emotions flitted over her face.

Hermione's thoughts whirled around in her head. Her mother was obliviated by her own hand and was killed on Voldemort's orders. It was unlikely that this is what her truth referred to unless her mother wasn't dead after all. Hope surged in her stomach. Maybe that was what she wouldn't understand about her mother, that she was alive this whole time. The only other person that she could think of that might also fit the bill was Narcissa who had spent years as Voldemort's captive in order for her and Draco to make a break for it. She didn't always understand his mother but would forever be grateful for the sacrifices she made on Hermione's behalf.

Behind the crone, a door cracked open, the light spilling in the once again dark room. She looked back only once as sadness for the life of the crone and wondered if there was something she could do to release her from this room. Before she could do anything, the crone disappeared, leaving Hermione alone.

Stepping through the door, Hermione found herself walking out of Bathilda Bagshot's front door. The only doorway that she had walked through that one Christmas Eve two years ago that nearly saw Harry's and her own death in Godric's Hallow.

"I'm glad you decided to join me," Voldemort's amusement was palpable.

Hermione looked him over and smirked. He was looking the worse for wear. It had only been a few days since he had captured her and imprisoned her at Hogwarts. She supposed that losing all of his followers to the Malfoy dungeons would add a bit of stress to his life.

"I didn't even have to beg for you to heal me," Hermione watched as his eyes narrowed and snorted. Her wand was clenched in her hand, ready at a moment's notice. She noticed his knuckles were white as he grasped the handle of his own wand.

"What a pity," he sneered.

"You called this meeting, what do you want?"

"What would you be willing to trade for the knowledge of how to wake your sleeping suitor?"

"Sigurd? Nothing. I will figure it out on my own." She said. He chuckled dryly. She still had faith that the Manor would be able to restore all of the memories from the memory room.

"I don't think you will."

Hermione shrugged. "That's my cross to bear. You do have something else that I want,"

"And that is?"

"My allies that you have imprisoned in Azkaban."

"They are not for trade."

"But you will use them against me whenever you feel like it?"

"I was quite generous to allow you the gift of two of my prisoners. Was that not a wonderful gift?"

"You never do anything out of kindness. I would bet my left arm that you have plans for them."

"It seems we are at an impasse," He hissed. Hermione shrugged but her brow furrowed in worry. She barely kept herself from checking out the shadows around them. She held herself stiffly as though waiting for something, something that came in the form of a tiny house elf named Emmy.

**HGHG**

Abraxas yelled in rage as he pounded against the stone door that Hermione had magically sealed against him. No matter how many times Gilkey poked the tiny button, the door refused to budge. Usually, he was put together, spending hours and untold amounts of effort to look as if nature had gifted him with an unnatural allure and elegance. He had never looked so unkempt as he did in that moment. Rage burned through him; his hair a mess from his fingers constantly running through it, and his clothes were rumpled and askew from the vigorous assault against the door.

"Master?" Gilkey asked, slightly cowed. She had never seen him in such a state. No one has.

Abraxas closed his eyes and struggled to reign in his ire. There had never been a woman who drove him to the brink of insanity except for Hermione. All he wanted to do was protect her, was that such a horrible thing? The worst part was that he almost had her. He knew it, and he knew she knew it. One more touch, one more brush of his lips and she would have followed him back to his rooms. He would have made good on his promise to wear her out too. The most pleasurable distraction.

Clenching his teeth so hard that a tic appeared in his jaw, he abruptly turned on his heel and strode from the room, Gilkey following without being bid.

"Your mistress went to Godric's Hallow. Regardless of the conditions of the message, she can't go alone." Abraxas muttered to the elf.

"I can take you," She said softly.

Abraxas smiled at the elf, his eyes crinkling softly, despite the fire that still raged within.

"Thank you. I will take you up on that as soon as I find Draco. I have a feeling that she would have a harder time with her guilt of leaving him." A cunning look crossed his face.

As he approached Hermione's door, he waved his wand, letting the force of the spell blow the door open. He took a perverse satisfaction in startling Draco awake. The man in question shot up, looking around wildly. For a moment, he felt a twinge of guilt. Draco was not the person who put him in this mood. That was until he realized Draco was nearly naked in Hermione's bed. A better man would have put his jealousy aside, especially in light of current events. Unfortunately for everyone else, Abraxas was just a flawed man.

"Hermione went to meet Riddle alone."

"Damn! I thought if I kept her busy enough she would perhaps not realize until it was too late." Draco said running a hand through his hair as he bounced from the bed, his pajama pants riding low on his hips. He grabbed his wand and with a flick of his wand, was properly dressed, and his hair tidy. Gilkey held out her small hand and before any of them could blink, the Malfoy elf apparated them away.

**HGHG**

Sigurd rapidly blinked his eyes, trying to clear the blurriness from them. Patting the space around him, his hands searched for the long thin wood of his wand. Once his vision had cleared he moved with increasing panic as he stared up at the lid of his casket, a bloody handprint was smeared over his face blocking out any view of the room beyond.

"Fucking Hell," He cursed. Relief so substantial settled in his stomach as he finally found the buttery wood of his wand, made from the same tree as his door. With a flick of his wrist, the lid to the enclosure levitated off, settling against the wall in the very place it had been right before Tova settled it over him.

He pulled himself out of the coffin and looked around. The room was nearly the same as it had been a millennium ago. The only changes were his magical portrait which was now still and the empty table in the far corner.

Walking was harder than he anticipated. Tapping his thighs with the handle of his wand, he relieved them of their shaking and weakness, side effects, he supposed, of the potion that put him in a magical preservation. To be fair, the Germanic tribe that he found this nugget of power from only used it once with a limit of ten years of unconsciousness. He shrugged his shoulders. Regardless of the side effects, it had worked.

Sigurd tossed his long hair over his shoulder and strapped a scabbard to his back to sit between his shoulder blades. His Carolingian sword sat heavy in its sheath once again reunited. With his sword and his wand, he felt ready to battle. Whatever reason there was for her to wake him with a bloody handprint, it wasn't a situation he was willing to sit back and wait on the sidelines. Blood meant trouble and he suspected if she had gotten away from whatever caused her departure, it was through the door. He grimaced. He hated the door.

Taking a deep breath, he summoned his discipline and raised his large scarred palm to the door. This door was made with magic that was indescribable- a blend of the natural magic of the tree, his familial magic, and the skilled magic of the master who created both door and wand. Why the door aligned with the witch, Hecate, was anyone's guess. Perhaps she was bored being immortal and since she was no longer worshiped as she once was wanted something to entertain her. Either way, he steeled himself to accept the truth she would give him to find Hermione.

"Sigurd, my old friend," the crone cackled.

"Hecate,"

"I told you that you would be back,"

"And I told you that I would only come back if my choices were limited."

"It seems we were both right," Hecate waved to the seat opposite of her and Sigurd sat down with a slightly disgusted curl to his lips. Hecate looked the same as she ever did, old as hell.

"I wish to use the same portal as Hermione," he said. He knew the song and dance of what would be expected of him here but he felt it best to tell her exactly what he was doing. The crone was a powerful witch that was once known as a goddess. Her interest could help him greatly if she were so inclined. The shrewd smirk on her face indicated that she wasn't interested.

"That is not how the door works, Viking."

"What are your terms?" His teeth were clenched with stress. If she had attended Hogwarts, she would have been in Slytherin, hands down.

"I will show you a memory of mine. Do you accept?"

They both knew that he had no choice but to accept her terms. The moment he stepped through the door, he was bound to complete the ritual. Only for the first visit was there a way to decline and this was far from his first visit. He nodded his head sharply and waited. Around him, the dark room melted away and was replaced by the Great Hall in Hogwarts. Students filled the benches, eating a meal in almost perfect silence. The head table housed a variety of shifty characters, the only vacant seat was the Headmasters. A man with red eyes stood and pointed his wand at the door. Sigurd turned.

His Hermione was standing just inside the doorway, sparks jumping from curl to curl. They seemed to be facing off, amber eyes locked with red. A blue ball of energy filled the space between her hands making everyone watching flinch. Faster than he could believe, a green spell left the wand of the red-eyed wizard and Hermione sent her energy ball in return. They were hit at the same time, knocking both to the floor.

With a sinking feeling, Sigurd knew that Hermione was dead. His hands shook as he leaned over her spectral form. His gut clenched with fear but he was a seer for a reason. He knew that events were fluid and could change but there was fate to contend with too. Not every prophecy came to pass and not all prophecies could be circumvented.

It didn't matter. He hadn't waited a thousand years for his witch just to lose her now. Somehow, he didn't think this future included him, the wild card that wasn't supposed to be alive and could, with luck, change the outcome.

The room darkened around him, as Hecate came back to focus in the soft light of the candle.

"If you love her, you will do whatever you need to do to keep her alive and that includes sacrificing another."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"My sweet Emrys, the only man that I have loved in all of the eons of my life. Unrequited love is a vengeful magic that binds a person tighter than a Gordian knot to the recipient of such affections. It never stopped me from favoring his lineage but she is special. She is like him. I loved him too well for too long to deny his blood now. She must be saved."

Sigurd nodded his head. He understood her, this ancient witch. He was born a thousand years ago and he fell in love with a woman who was unavailable to him. It didn't stop him from finding his way to her and nothing would stop him from saving her, no matter the cost to his own soul.

"What should I do?"

A small piece of parchment appeared at her elbow with a bottle of ink and a black raven's quill. Once she finished writing and had put the quill down, she slid the paper across the table. Sigurd took it and read it before it burst into flames. The fire consumed the paper until all that was left was the ashy imprint of what it once was.

"A name?" He muttered confused, his brows furrowed in bewilderment.

"Do not use that information too soon or nothing will be able to save her." Hecate disappeared and the candle went out, the only light in the room was the door that creaked open at her departure. He was grim. Hecate did not give anything freely and he was willing to bet that this warning too would come with a price. He stepped through the door and found himself in a gravel walkway. Ahead of him stood Hermione and the red-eyed man, both with wands raised, both angry, both wary of the other.

**HGHG**

Narcissa and Harry landed at the shell of a house that used to be Andromeda's home. The evening was cooling rapidly as dew gathered on every surface. Narcissa pulled her hand from Harry's and her eyes locked on the two stone cairns on the rise behind the ruins, marking the final resting place of Andromeda and her daughter, Nymphadora. With a heavy heart, Narcissa made her way to the twin mounds and fell to her knees in front of them. She was too tired and worn out to cry. Too numb.

Harry came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. She just sat there, staring. Unsure of how long they stayed there, but Narcissa noticed that it was long enough for the shadows to lengthen. They needed to find shelter for the night.

Narcissa stood up but before she could go far, Harry handed her a conjured wreath, a twin of the one Hermione made for him to put on his parent's graves two years prior. Smiling gratefully, Narcissa took the wreath and laid it on the stones. Harry had leaned over the side of one of the piles while she laid the flowers on their graves. She thought he was just giving her space to grieve or cry. How ridiculous, the boy had seen her much worse than this but she appreciated it all the same.

Harry stood up abruptly with something clenched in his hand. His eyes were desperate and feverish, a new light in them that she hadn't seen before. Narcissa looked at him, waiting for him to tell her what it was he found. He held it up. It was a small purple dragon with Teddy's name in gold embroidery. The toy was pristine, clearly having been placed on the graves recently.

"He never leaves this behind anywhere and when we searched for Teddy two years ago, we also searched for this. We didn't see it anywhere. He's alive!" Harry shouted excitedly.

"And he has been here recently."

"We never really dared to hope," Harry said in a manic voice. Turning away from Narcissa, he began a frantic search of the grounds, hoping to find something, anything that would give him even the smallest clue of where Teddy could be hiding.

Narcissa took a closer look of the cairns while Harry searched the ruined house. It was when she got close to where the heads of her kin should rest when she found it. A small flat rock that was carved on the back. Furrowing her brow, she read out the words. Snuffles Cave.

"Harry," She called. "I think I found something,"

Harry trotted over and Narcissa handed him the small stone. His brows rose as he read the inscription. With elation in his eyes, he looked down at Narcissa who was on her knees by the cairns, supposedly where she found the unobtrusive rock. Slipping the thing in his pocket, he held out his hand to help her up.

"I know exactly where this is," he said.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Narcissa asked, noticing a slight movement by the husk of the burned-out house. She began to stand, narrowing her eyes on the moving darkness but Harry was quick.

With a lopsided smile, he twisted, her arm still in his grasp, apparating them both to the hidden cave that Sirius had hidden in after he had been saved by Hermione and himself in their third year. There was something following them but Narcissa was well versed in biding her time and settled in for the wait. Pushing it to the back of her mind for the moment, she lifted her wand.

"Lumos," she murmured the moment they landed. The light from her wand tip glittered on the moisture oozing down the cave walls.

The cave was musty and dark, with very little light filtering in. Bones were littered on one side and the remains of a long dead fire on the other. Narcissa's nose wrinkled with disgust. It was absolutely filthy. Harry was searching the cave, even going so far as to sift through the sludge of ashes. He yelled with joy as he pulled out a clear plastic bag, a blue lined paper folded neatly inside.

"Well, it is someone who isn't afraid of the Muggle world," He said smiling. "Scorgify."

He opened the zip at the top and pulled out the thin paper and unfolded it. Wrinkling his brow, he moved his lips silently while reading, something that made Narcissa irritated. Weren't they in this together?

"It has to be someone who knew Sirius and me very well."

"Why do you think that?"

Harry handed her the paper and she brought it closer to her face, illuminating the paper with her wand. Narcissa read the message aloud.

When the she-witch nags,

Cover her with rags,

Behind the heavy golden frame,

You will find the next game.

She-witch in rags? Golden frames? Narcissa pondered the riddle. Another moment passed in silence before Harry laughed without amusement.

"There is only one place that this could be," Harry said running his hand through his hair.

**HGHG**

Hermione glared in Voldemort's smug face while giving Emmy the signal to wait from behind her back. The elf melted into the shrubbery. Hermione carefully kept her glee behind her strengthened mental shields.

"But," he purred. "I would be willing to consider a better negotiation for your misguided friends if you agree to my guardianship until you are given in marriage."

Hermione looked and felt like she would vomit. Those ancient laws were geared for a severely patriarchal society, a world that had no room for women as people in their own right. To give this man that type of power over her caused her to physically recoil. She took an unintended step back. Stopping herself from a further retreat by the sheer force of her will.

"I can see you dislike my terms," He smirked and shifted closer to her. He towered over her, his miasmic magic undulated around them, mingling with hers, fighting for dominance. "You, of course, are free to refuse. Just know that you can't get something without giving something of equal value in return. Those prisoners are valuable to me, to my cause. To set them free would hamper some of my most dear plans, but for you, I would enter negotiations. Be aware though that you should consider carefully before rejecting my terms. I am not likely to offer them again."

A swift refusal was on the tip of her tongue but she stopped herself just in time. It was imperative that she mind every word, every step from here on out.

"And if I agreed, I would require certain assurances," She said slowly, a flash of shock crossed his face before it was buried completely. "assurances sealed with an unbreakable vow, with death as its binder."

"What kind of assurances?"

"Only three,"

"They are…"

"One, I am to be engaged to the Malfoy line and will marry in no less than one year. Two, the war must end and rebuild a functioning society must take precedence. Three, no one including myself can be harmed or used in any way by you or your followers which include the release of the prisoners of war."

He curled his lip. "You ask for the impossible,"

"I thought we were agreed… Quid pro quo, Riddle. You can't expect me to knowingly give you carte blanche."

"I offered you the release of my prisoners in exchange for your familial alliance."

"But that's not what you really want," She challenged. Smugly, she watched as he set his jaw.

With a crack, Abraxas and Draco holding the hands of a house elf apparated into the middle of their tête-à-tête.

"I thought I said to come alone," Voldemort hissed at Hermione.

Abraxas's face was a blank mask as he walked to stand toe to toe with the sociopath currently occupying Wizarding Britain. Draco was looking at Hermione as if she had kicked his puppy.

"Did you think I would send her alone after last time?" Abraxas asked smoothly as if they were talking about tea preferences.

"I am right here," Hermione said testily ignoring Draco's wounded expression that he pinned on her. Abraxas shot her a furious look, a look that promised that there would be a discussion about her running off on him to attend this dangerous meeting. Still, she refused to back down. She took two steps back, hoping that Abraxas and Draco would follow. Their being in Godric's Hallow screwed with her plans to capture the highly feared Dark Lord and she didn't appreciate the interference.

Neither Draco nor Abraxas followed and she cursed in her head. They had taken the opportunity of her retreat to shut her out of the meeting altogether. Hermione moved to circle the small three-man ring when a thunderous boom resonated around the small sleeping town. The metallic glint of a sword met the flesh of Voldemort's neck. Hermione looked wide-eyed at Sigurd, the Viking that had been sleeping only minutes ago.

He wasn't sleeping now. His large hands handled the hilt of his sword with incredible ease and skill, his eyes were dark pools of swirling mercury, and his long, braided hair was blowing in the breeze. He was a magnificent specimen and Hermione burned to question him about the life of a Viking warrior and magic from his time and basically everything else. He was a living breathing history lesson.

He was glorious.

Draco came to his senses first. "Incarcerous," he shouted and the satisfied grin on his face when he landed his spell was infectious. Hermione struggled to keep her face neutral.

Emmy stepped out of the hedges.

"Mistress, does this mean we are not going to use Plan A or Plan B?" Emmy squeaked. Hermione looked sheepish for a moment and Draco looked at her with humor but he also kept shooting looks at Sigurd with quite a bit of academic interest.

"Yes, Emmy. The Malfoys took care of it." She choked out. She could have lived a long, happy life without Abraxas knowing that an impassioned rescue wasn't exactly what she had had in mind. Somehow, she believed he would have chalked it up to her Gryffindor tendencies and would have written it off… mostly. Knowing that she made plans was what was going to land her in a whole new realm of trouble. She avoided his gaze like it could infect her with the plague.

"If I am not back in an hour, my Death Eaters were instructed to kill the inmates of Azkaban." Voldemort threatened. He was calm, calmer than he should have been in this situation. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, considering what their next move should be.

Sigurd pushed the finely-honed edge of his sword further into Voldemort's neck letting a thin line of blood drip from the new wound. "If I were you, I wouldn't talk, I wouldn't even make a sound. I've been asleep for a long time and I can't vouch for how steady my hand is." To make his point, he moved the blade, making the cut on his neck a little longer. "Oops," He said with the Malfoy signature smirk.

Draco spoke up, looking at Abraxas. "I will go to Azkaban prison to get the allies released."

"The Death Eaters and Dementors guarding the prison will never let them go! They know Voldemort is not dead, the mark is still active." Hermione said stepping up to stand next to Sigurd.

Curling his lip, Draco reached out and plucked a nose hair from the slit where Voldemort's nose should have been. He shuddered and he pulled out a glass vial full of polyjuice, uncorked it, and added the hair. The liquid bubbled and turned green, the same color as an Avada.

"They will not dare to talk back if I look like him and also have his wand." Draco plucked the yew wand from the clenching fingers of its former master. The wand sparked red and blue as it changed allegiance, knowing its master had been bested. Voldemort sneered at the young man that he had already killed once. Draco was fingering the wand gingerly obviously repulsed to own the loyalty of a wand that had done such wicked deeds. With a pop, Draco was gone, leaving Abraxas, Sigurd, and Hermione with the bound Voldemort.

"Where did you get Polyjuice?"

"That's not important," Draco evaded.

Abraxas turned to Hermione, "Go home and take the elves with you. Sigurd and I will take care of this," His unappeased fury was building in strength again now that Hermione was safely out of danger.

"Elskede, please, let us take care of him. A lady shouldn't have to see the kind of things enemy captives have to endure. Plus, too many people to take care of something so simple… There are many things I want to talk to you and I don't want to waste precious time interrogating him when Abraxas is more than capable."

Hermione's nose wrinkled. It sounded as if he knew all of them rather well. She knew his mother had been the one to record the first prophecy about her. Hermione also knew that Sigurd was a seer as well since he was the artist who rendered the drawings and paintings of things in her life. But that still didn't explain how he seemed to really know them.

"Tomorrow," She began. "I want to go to this torture chamber and question him myself."

"We will see," Abraxas said. His voice was amiable, but the look on his face practically screamed it would only happen over his dead body and not even then would he consider it unacceptable.

Unhappy with being ganged up on, Hermione gracelessly acceded with the knowledge that there was nothing she could do that these two men could not. Abraxas rolled his eyes. Hermione cut her gaze to Voldemort's unnaturally calm one. It made her uneasy, the blank carefree posture as if this had always been a possibility.

Taking an elf hand in each of hers, she smiled sweetly at Abraxas immediately putting him on guard.

"Hermione, Love, go home," He said warningly.

"Emmy, Gilkey, take me to Hogwarts."

"Yes, mistress" They simultaneously said, all three of them disapparating, leaving the two Malfoy men and one bound Dark Lord alone in the cobbled street of Godric's Hallow, muggle repelling and silencing charms expertly placed.

"Fuck," Abraxas growled.

"My witch has a mind of her own. She is strong." Sigurd said with a smitten look. Abraxas shot him a look of pure loathing or irritation but mostly loathing spurred by possessiveness.

"Let's get him back to the Manor, then I have a stubborn witch to hunt down." Abraxas smiled tightly, his eyes turning cold and a bit cruel. "I have been waiting for this moment for so long and I am going to relish every single moment."

Voldemort chuckled and said, "As much fun as this has been, I simply cannot tolerate being captured. On top of that, Draco has conveniently placed himself in my grasp. Having him as leverage against Hermione will be a sweet victory." With those parting words, Voldemort vanished sans wand.

Sigurd's sword clanged off the cobblestones as it fell from its perch on Voldemort's shoulder and Abraxas wheeled around searching the deserted street for any ripples, indications of concealment.

"Now would be the time to voice obscenities," Sigurd said to Abraxas, earning himself another glare.

**HGHG**

The moment Draco reached the desolate island of Azkaban, he took a sip of the vicious liquid and waited while he turned into the foulest being alive. He rolled his shoulders, popping the vertebrae in his neck. His main goal was to release these prisoners, not just because of Hermione, but because it would weaken his greatest enemy. It was his duty as a wizard, as a former victim, as a man to fight with every fiber of his being to end this war.

He intended to have children with Hermione someday and he couldn't allow them to inherit this mess that was wizarding Britain. There was nothing he wouldn't do to protect her or his children, curly and blond children, perhaps a little girl that looked exactly like her mother.

Entering the oppressive fortress with fantasies of sharing a daughter with Hermione in his head, the happiest thoughts he could imagine in an effort to keep the dementors depression at bay. He hid everything behind his Occlumency shields, feigning a blank slate. It was how he imagined Voldemort to protect his mind and desperately hoped it would be enough to fool the soulless monsters that fed off of the prisoners.

Walking through the gates into the prison was easy. All of the on-duty Death Eaters, stood and though confused trembled in his presence. He glared at them, seemingly bored and moved past them. Voldemort would not need to ask for help. Of course, that presented Draco problems of his own. He had only been here once on Voldemort's orders for the second breakout during the summer break between sixth and seventh year.

He stopped at the first cell door and looked through the slot, noticing Ginny Weasley curled up with her back to him sitting in the only patch of moonlight in the whole room. Flicking the yew wand, he unlocked the door and entered the room. Ginny whipped her head to him, a glassy, dead look in her eyes.

"Ginny it's Draco, I'm using polyjuice potion to look like Riddle." He said gently as he moved into the room, holding his hand out. "I'm getting you out of here."

"How can I trust you?" She asked.

"Ask me a question only the two of us know, the only secret we share from everyone."

"Who did you always dream about marrying while we were in school?"

"Hermione Granger, the know-it-all-swot who was naturally my enemy the moment your idiotic brother and Potter befriended her." He said bitterly, watching her lips lift in the corners.

"If you had wanted it to be kept a secret, perhaps you shouldn't have been muttering about it while I was near enough to hear you after the Yule Ball."

"How was I supposed to know that you had wandered into the library. Everyone else went to bed."

"You died. How are you even here? Am I hallucinating?" She rasped, ignoring his question and asking one of her own.

"Hermione saved me and no, you are not hallucinating." he murmured. A ghost of a smile flitted across her lips.

"Sounds like her," Ginny put her hand into Draco and let him help her up. He couldn't help but stare at her swollen belly in shock. "Don't. Just don't. Please," Her voice cracked. He nodded his head.

Once she was on her feet, they moved to the next cell which was empty. Most of the cells near Ginny's were vacant. They were probably keeping her near the entrance because of her pregnancy.

Several corridors in, they finally got lucky. Lee Jordan though battered and starved, was alive. Draco once again unlocked the door but this time it was Ginny who entered. It didn't' take much persuasion on her part before he was following them through the labyrinthine maze of the prison.

They successfully liberated five more prisoners. Zacharias Smith, Minerva McGonagall, Oliver Wood, Ollivander, and Ernie Macmillan before the unspeakable happened. Trapped in the bowels of Azkaban prison with nowhere to run and the only ones with a wand were Draco and Minerva to whom he gave the wand he had taken from his family tomb when Hermione brought him back from the dead.

Behind them, a congregation of Dementors swarmed and ahead of them was the real Lord Voldemort and his merry band of Death Eaters.

"You didn't really think that a sword-wielding Viking, an Incarcerous, and Abraxas Malfoy could really hold me, could you?"

Draco smirked at the real Voldemort as McGonagall created a portkey behind him. The blue glow of the spell, illuminated Draco and the prisoners, allowing everyone to see that Draco also looked like Voldemort. The only difference between them was that Draco held the wand that each and every follower was intimately acquainted with, having been on the receiving end of its curses. Curses practiced and honed on his own followers. With a bright flash, the group was gone but this time, Voldemort screamed his rage and the Death Eaters looked at their Lord suspiciously, wondering if they were following the 'right' Dark Lord. Uninterested in the politics of Wizards, the Dementors disbursed back into the womb of their citadel to feed on the unfortunates that resided there.

Chapter Text

14

Previously:

Draco smirked at the real Voldemort as McGonagall created a portkey behind him. The blue glow of the spell, illuminated Draco and the prisoners, allowing everyone to see that Draco also looked like Voldemort. The only difference between them was that Draco held the wand that each and every follower was intimately acquainted with, having been on the receiving end of its curses. Curses practiced and honed on his own followers. With a bright flash, the group was gone but this time, Voldemort screamed his rage and the Death Eaters looked at their Lord suspiciously, wondering if they were following the 'right' Dark Lord. Uninterested in the politics of Wizards, the Dementors disbursed back into the womb of their citadel to feed on the unfortunates that resided there.

**HGHG**

Hermione looked around the room in confusion. She had asked the elves to take her to Hogwarts, so why- why- was she standing in the center of her room at Malfoy Manor?

"I asked you to take me to Hogwarts." Hermione accused the elves. Sweet Emmy cringed away from the angry witch but Gilkey looked up at her defiantly.

"Did you? I is not knowing what Mistress means…" Gilkey said innocently as Hermione's jaw nearly hit the floor. The lights in the room flared as they came to life with a wave of Gilkey's hand. The small elf latched onto Emmy's hand and left, leaving Hermione in her room alone to seethe.

"What just happened?" Hermione muttered angrily to the door as she strode over to it, intending to rip it open and leave but the door was sealed. She turned her wand on it next, casting spell after spell as a sinking despair weighed in her stomach. Elf magic was not like her magic and the likelihood that she would be let through or even tear down those wards without Gilkey's consent was nil. It was two hours before she admitted defeat and sat on the floor in front of the door, staring vengeful holes through the wood.

Hermione sat, trying to summon up that power she felt swirling within her when Dolohov had held her captive. After a while a headache began to form behind her eyes and gave up, having not felt even a modicum of the power that had churned beneath her skin. She rolled her head and stretched her neck, trying to get some of the kinks out that had begun to form.

A soft knock filled the room and Hermione's lips flattened into a thin angry line.

"Well, come in if you can," She said grumpily.

Slowly the door opened and Sigurd poked his head inside.

"How did you know I was here?" She asked.

"The scary house elf. She reported to Abraxas the moment she left you I presume. I was still with him in Godric's Hallow after our prisoner escaped."

"Voldemort escaped? That slippery bastard." She muttered darkly, causing Sigurd's lips to turn up with amusement.

Hermione watched as the tall Viking walked further into her room. He was almost exactly how he looked in the memories. Powerfully muscular, long blond hair braided away from his face, a sword strapped to his back in between his shoulder blades, sharp piercing eyes- so expressive. The only difference was his clothing. No longer was he in the leather breeches and tunic but simple black robes that lay open over a white button up Oxford and black trousers.

Hermione drank him in, feeling that even though the modern clothes looked good on him, they detracted from the raw masculine power that he exuded. She couldn't help but think the new clothes were more like a prison than clothing to cover his body.

He was a good-looking man and by far the tallest Malfoy. Hermione only came up to his clavicle, him having over a foot on her. She had to crane her neck back to look at him, as he approached.

"Elskede," He whispered, a slight smile tugging the corners of his mouth. "I have waited for this moment for as long as I can remember. I saw it- you and me together in this room- and I yearned to make it so." He lifted his hand and pushed a curl behind her ear.

"Sigurd, I think you are expecting something from me that I cannot give. I have committed myself to Abraxas, Lucius, and Draco. I would love to talk to you about your life though and learn what life was like for you a thousand years ago."

"I always knew that getting you for myself was impossible, but I had to try, no?"

"If you knew, why try so hard to get to this time?"

"Just because I don't get to have you all to myself, doesn't mean I didn't see being with you at all," He smirked, his silver eyes intense and full of hunger. He settled his hands on her hips and moved closer so that they were touching, nearly chest to chest. "You have committed yourself to them. Why can I not also be included? I promise that you will never find a man so devoted to you as I am. Have I not proved that I would reorder time for you? That I would defy the natural order of the world, just for the chance to feel you against me, just like this?"

Hermione's breath caught and she let it out slowly, her lips tingling with anticipation. If the look in his eyes were any indication of what he intended next, she wouldn't wait long. On an impulse, she raised her arms and wrapped them around his neck, only tearing her eyes from his as her knuckles hit the hilt of his sword. She drew back, but he caught her arms with his hands and wrapped her arms around his neck again, this time holding them there so she couldn't escape. She wasn't trying that hard to get away if she was being honest.

A second passed as both stood frozen before he closed the gap. His lips were on hers- caressing and pliant, never taking more than she was willing to give. His tongue flicked at the corner of her mouth. She parted her lips, allowing him to invade but he didn't. His lips were on her jaw, her lips, her cheeks, her eye lids and his tongue tasted her skin in each place.

Hermione wrapped her hands in his long hair and dragged his mouth back to hers and taking control, she plunged her tongue into his mouth. He tasted divine, like mint and whiskey. His taste mixed with the smell of his skin, leather and man and power- if power even had a smell- was heady. His strong calloused hands ran up her arms, down her sides, and on her bum, pulling her into his body, on to her tiptoes, so that he fit snugly into the cradle of her thighs. She held onto him not only because she hungered for him and to be close to him like this but also because she needed to use his body as leverage so she wouldn't fall.

Still, she wasn't complaining. His tongue explored her mouth even as she caressed it with hers, moaning as he withdrew.

"Elskede, we need to slow down. As much as I want to carry you over to your bed and learn every inch of you, I want you to know me first. You are not just one of many for me. If I have any say, hopefully, the last one I know intimately. You must know I was married once and that it was not a love match but one of necessity. I needed an heir so that I had a safe place to keep my comatose body. It was the only way I could get to you. In the journal, I put a lot of my thoughts and feelings down so that we wouldn't meet as strangers but that is not all of me, and I want you to know me."

"There was no journal," Hermione said breathlessly, still reeling from his kiss and the heat burning in her body.

"I left it with the memories of how to wake me. They were on the table next to the chest holding precious gems."

"I don't know what happened to the journal but the memory to wake you was destroyed. The only one I saw was a message about a second memory in the memory room, which was destroyed not long after I resurrected the Malfoy's. Last I knew, the memories were still in the process of being replaced using the magic of the Manor."

"I guess we will have to start from the beginning. You scared me. When I woke and the first thing I saw was your bloody handprint and you weren't there. I woke alone, afraid that I couldn't protect you, that I was too late. I knew you were fighting in a war and I thought that it would be the cruelest joke of the universe to be awoken at your death."

"I'm fine. I didn't even know I was waking you up. I didn't know."

"Sometimes, fate just works in our favor."

"How did you find me in Godric's Hallow?"

"The same way you got there. I took the door."

"There is no way any building in Godric's Hallow is old enough that you have walked through the door before."

"Perceptive," He murmured into her hair as he wrapped his arms around her back, pinning her body to his.

"How did you do it?" she mumbled into his shoulder.

"Hecate, the keeper of the room, requested something of me."

"What?"

"Not yet, Elskede. Not yet."

"Do you have a wand?"

"Yes, why?"

"Can I see it? Not very many wands from the eleventh century have been found." Excitement began showing through, the thought of learning about something that b\had been lost to wizarding kind was heady.

Sigurd pulled the long wand from a pocket of his robes and held it out to her, the buttery wood warm under his fingers.

"What kind of wood is this? And the core?"

"The door and this wand were created from the same walnut tree and was crafted by a master. The tree was ancient and dying because lightning kept striking it. It was hit over five thousand times from the time I owned the property to when it was cut down three years later. The Bowtruckles that guarded the tree were fierce and would only give up the wood if I agreed to plant a whole grove from the seeds. I planted them next to a stream where the unicorns liked to frolic and the Bowtruckles were appeased. The core was gifted from my mother. Five golden threads were interwoven and imbued with her power, a parting gift."

With a flick of her wrist, a shower of cherry blossoms rained from above. Hermione smiled and lifted her hand to catch the tiny pinkish white petals. Sigurd watched her, taking simple pleasure in her wonder.

"Thank you," She said as she handed it back. He pocketed it without taking his eyes off of her face. Her inquisitive nature called to him and when their eyes met, there was passion simmering just beneath the surface between them.

"I would be the happiest of men if you would grace me with some of your time tomorrow,"

"If my warden releases me from this imprisonment, I would be happy to."

He bowed, his hair falling forward over his shoulder. He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles lightly. Hermione watched as he left her, turning around only when the door closed behind him and made her way out to the balcony, staring into the night.

**HGHG**

Abraxas's dragonhide boots rang on the stone in the silence of the torture chamber. It was impossibly dark except for stones that lit a path to Bellatrix Lestrange. The room had provided her with a small home- almost like a child's playhouse that had been decorated by Madame Puddifoot. Everything was an explosion of pink and lace, an overwhelmingly Victorian feel. Bellatrix sat in her small sitting room in a rocking chair, a tiny baby doll swaddled in her arms. She was murmuring to it, her eyes glassy as she stared into the fireplace. Abraxas shuddered from his place in the doorway. The torture room was truly terrifying and yet magnificent.

"Hello Bellatrix," He drawled in his deep timbre.

"Shhh! My darling Auriga is sleeping." Bellatrix smiled at the doll and caressed the tiny cheek lovingly with her finger. After a few minutes of silence, Bellatrix turned her deep brown eyes to his and asked, "Did you ever have a daughter?"

"No,"

"Pureblood families never want girls." She said turning back to her 'baby' as if she were just stating a fact that everyone already knew. "We are breeding stock; our only worth is allying with other powerful families. My father hated my mother for only giving him daughters. He beat her. Beat us. I won't let that happen to Auriga." Her eyes were fierce- a proper mama bear.

"Your father wasn't a good man."

"Is there such a thing as a good man? If there is, I don't know of one."

"I may not have experience as being the father of a daughter but I have a small amount of experience with Hermione when she was younger." He smiled tenderly and sat on the couch next to the rocking chair.

"Can I get you tea?" She asked pleasantly and the room provided, a tea service with hot steaming tea with two cups and a platter of scones appeared on the table between them. Oddly, he didn't want to be rude and accepted her offer with a nod and watched as she carried her 'baby' to the small cot next to the wall and lay it down tenderly.

Once she was again seated in the rocking chair and their tea cups were in hand, Bellatrix looked at Abraxas expectantly. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Hermione always had a mind of her own. When she was really small, her parents had taken her to ballet classes. She was so keen on it, loved to go every week but she was terrible at it. After a full year of classes, it was obvious that she was unlikely to be a renowned dancer but she went back year after year. She took six years of ballet before giving up. I was almost certain that the only reason she loved ballet so much was because it eluded her. There was no amount of hard work that could give her the talent she needed.

Don't get me wrong, she tried really, really hard but sometimes wanting and trying are not enough, sometimes you need just a modicum of natural talent. I think she reasoned out that she just didn't have time for ballet after Hogwarts sent her an acceptance letter. Her parents and I, on the other hand, were immensely relieved. It's funny that Hermione doesn't remember me in her life since I was always there with her parents."

"What's ballet?"

"A formalized form of dance that originated in Muggle Italy. It's beautiful and unequaled if done well."

"Didn't her parents want her to do better?"

"We were raised that way. Everything we do, we have to be the best but her parents only wanted her to be happy."

Bellatrix smiled wistfully, staring off into space, probably dreaming of what her life would have been like had her parents only wanted her happiness.

"Once, about the time she was beginning to use spontaneous magic, she fell off the swings at the neighborhood park and broke her arm. Richard, her father, took her to the Muggle doctor where they put this ridiculous plaster on her arm. I remember stopping over, intending on healing her myself, but Richard had her wrapped in a blanket, snuggled on the couch under his arm as her mother, Eliza, was writing a message on it. I left them and snuck in later that night to heal her without anyone being the wiser.

She was tucked into bed, a bed filled with more stuffed animals than it could feasibly fit, and her broken arm was raised above her head. I ran a diagnostic but she had already been healed. I turned to leave but something caught my eye in the moonlight. It was a silver picture frame but what held my attention was the picture inside it. Richard and Eliza were standing in a garden with Hermione in between them. She was scowling but her parents were grinning at her. I have never seen anyone look at their child the way hers looked at her as if she were the single most important thing in their lives. Can you imagine how that shaped her? Hermione is fierce in defense of her loved ones. What would we have been if we had a love like that given to us as children?"

"I want that," Bellatrix whispered.

"We are damaged, Bellatrix. We couldn't ever give and receive the kind of love she grew up with but we can try. Is love something you need to learn? Is it something you need to have a natural talent for? These are things that I had asked myself over the course of my first natural life and only now, with Hermione in my life as my lover and hopefully, someday soon, my wife, do I understand what it is to be loved in such a way. It's incomparable, the way it makes you feel."

"Am I so damaged that I am undeserving of love?" She asked tears glittering on her eyelashes.

"Is anyone deserving of love? I think you must give it even with the fear of never getting loved in return. Loving someone is nonsensical but it does something for your soul, it gives you purpose and direction. Love is something of a gift for others and if and when it is finally directed at you, something not to be taken for granted. Especially for those of us who have never known how it feels to be the recipient of such a thing."

"There is no one left," Bellatrix began.

"Is there not? Narcissa still lives."

"She will never be able to forgive me for the things I have done."

Abraxas nodded. "Perhaps not, but like I said, it's not your job to love only to be loved in return."

"How could Hermione love Draco and Lucius after everything they did to her over the years?"

"She forgives the way only a person who knows unequivocally that she is cherished can forgive. Completely and without reserve."

"I tortured her once,"

"Yes, you did."

"She couldn't forgive that."

"Forgiving you would be madness, wouldn't it?" He said gently. "You are her tormentor, the devil in her dreams. You haunt her."

Bellatrix dropped her face into her hands and began weeping. Abraxas stood and slid his cup and saucer on the table between them and left her there crying without any comfort. There was nothing that he could say, that he could do that would comfort her. She was his prisoner and he had tortured her and broke her mind further than even Azkaban. Once he was outside the obsidian door, he leaned against it feeling sick.

He placed his hand on his chest and rubbed. Not that he would ever admit it, but that is the most he had ever opened up to a person about feelings. It was sick that out of everyone in the world, Bellatrix was the one who needed to hear it the most. Not because it would make her a better person but because it ensured that never again would Riddle be able to use her against Hermione and her safety mattered to him more than he could ever express.

**HGHG**

Harry apparated both of them out of the cave and landed on the doorstep of Grimmauld place when Narcissa went unconscious in his hands.

"Narcissa?" He said loudly. "Narcissa wake up!"

He wrapped his arms around her and struggled to get her inside. His wand was pinned to his side in his pocket and was unable to get to it, forcing him to try and carry Narcissa in without magic.

He looked up in panic when her weight was lifted out of his hands by a glaring Severus Snape. The man cradled her to his chest, staring resolutely at the door.

"Well Potter, are you going to let us in?" He drawled. Harry nodded and opened the door, letting Snape holding Narcissa take the lead. He strode through the halls and shouldered open the door to the sitting room where he laid Narcissa's unconscious form on the divan. "Why are we here?"

"I don't know why you are here or even how you found us." Harry snarked.

"I've been following you both since you left camp. You are terrible at hiding your magical signature. I suppose the entire world owes Miss Granger a debt of gratitude for keeping their savior alive for all these years." Snape sneered. Harry blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. It wasn't untrue. "What is your purpose for coming here?" He repeated.

Harry handed Snape the paper they had found at the cave and walked back out into the hallway. He ran his hands lightly on the gilt frame of Mrs. Black, Sirius' mother. Behind the top left corner, he found another paper stuck to the back and gently pried it off.

Gringotts is weirdly on a different side,

Opening up vaults deep within to reside,

Winky leads the way refusing to be seen,

You can only find her in Aberdeen.

Harry felt Snape's looming presence behind his shoulder, clearly trying to read the clue. Harry frowned.

"This is hideous? Who wrote it?" Snape sneered.

"I'm not sure yet,"

"You don't know who is leaving these clues but you are following them anyway and dragging Narcissa with you? You are a complete and utter moron."

"We are searching for Teddy!" Harry said defensively.

"There is no way that boy is alive! I heard the accounts from the Death Eaters that were assigned to them. I know what happened. If that boy is alive, I would be shocked."

"We found his stuffy and he never leaves it and it wasn't there the last time."

"Did you ever consider that his murderer took it and is now using it to lure you into a trap?"

"No one knew about Snuffle's cave," Harry said stubbornly.

"The Dark Lord does. Or did you forget that I had to give him something seemingly of worth, while I was still his spy?"

"Do you really believe that Riddle is making up terrible poetry just to lure me into a trap?"

"He is capable of anything. You should never underestimate him the way he always did with you."

"Is it so hard to believe that maybe, just maybe, Teddy is alive and in hiding?"

"I think it is extremely unlikely."

"Regardless, once Narcissa wakes up, we are going to follow the clue."

"You think Winky is in Aberdeen?"

"Yes,"

"You truly are an idiot. She is a Hogwarts Elf and no matter that I am not at the school, I am still the headmaster."

Harry blinked. Of course. Snape rolled his eyes.

"Winky," Snape summoned.

Winky apparated in. Her ears were nearly to the ground as she bowed, her whole body trembling.

"This paper says that you lead people to Gringotts Vaults. Is this true?"

She nodded her head excitedly. "I was told to bring Harry Potter when he found the notes."

"By whom?"

"Winky cannot say,"

"I am your master, you will tell me."

"I can't," She squeaked and began looking for something to use in her punishment the same way Dobby did.

"Why not?" Harry asked kindly, preventing her from acting out her self-punishment.

"It's not safe, sir."

"But you will take me to them?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter, Sir."

"Would you take all of us?" A weak and tired feminine voice asked from the doorway of the sitting room.

"Yes, Ms."

"Narcissa, why are you up? Go lay down before you fall down. Impossible woman!" Snape growled at her.

"No, Severus," She said, her voice gaining strength by degrees. "I need to find Teddy."

"He is dead, Narcissa."

"That is what you believe. I, on the other hand, believe he is alive."

Winky walked over to her and took her hand and reached her other out to the two wizards still standing motionless on the other side of the hall. Narcissa's eyes narrowed with a dangerous glint.

"I am going with or without you. Make your choice."

Harry's lips tilted up in the corners and he took Winky's out stretched hand. Narcissa rose both her eyebrows at Severus in question and he grumbled under his breath as he took Narcissa's other hand in his. There was no way in hell that he would ever take Potters hand. The moment they were all connected, Winky disapparated, pulling all of them into the uncomfortable tube that made your insides feel like they were being rearranged and squeezed uncomfortably.

It was dark where they landed but with a snap, the dark cavernous room was lit with thousands of soft floating lights.

"Oh God," Harry choked, shock freezing him in place, his eyes pinned on a man across the room.

"Hi Harry," Sirius Black said as he rose from the small bed on the stone floor. Mattresses lined the walls of the room filled with sleeping people, people who had been missing or assumed dead for months if not years. Teddy was curled- sleeping- blissfully unaware on the mattress pushed up next to Sirius'.

The two men walked towards each other, one unbelieving and the other overjoyed. Sirius grabbed Harry and pulled him into a tight hug.

"How?" Harry asked.

"The veil has a twin and I traveled between them. Because I was not dead when I went through it transported me here instead. When I got back to Hogwarts to tell Dumbledore, he insisted that I remain dead to everyone because he wanted me to slip into targeted homes and save the families, bringing them to safety. I was too late for Andromeda and Tonks but I got Teddy out. I thought Dumbledore would have told you." Sirius concluded with a frown.

"That old bastard knew exactly how to move and manipulate his soldiers. Never forget that." Snape drawled, smirking with satisfaction when Sirius stiffened. Their eyes locked with hostility.

"Hello, Snivellus." Sirius sneered. Snape's lip curled in response, baring his teeth at his arch nemesis.

**HGHG**

Draco woke on a small and uncomfortable camp bed, staring up at a canvas ceiling and groaned. His head throbbed. He lifted his hand to touch the injury but was stopped midway by the magical restraints attached to his wrists. Looking at them brought it all back, the entire reason he was here, trapped against his will.

Minerva had created a portkey and saved them all. He was surprised to feel her iron grip on the back of his robes when she pulled him back into whatever she had used as a portkey. Surprised but not unhappy. Once he saw Voldemort in front of him, surrounded by Death Eaters and Dementors, he thought for sure he was a dead man. Only fleeting and confused thoughts raced in his mind. The last he had seen of Voldemort, he had been in the very capable hands of Abraxas and Sigurd, not to mention Hermione. How was it that he escaped and followed Draco to Azkaban? He imagined the bastard drew from his mother's magic again and clenched his teeth in fury.

When they arrived at their destination which McGonagall set- a place he presumed was the camp de la résistance, Minerva had taken the wand he had given her and hit him upside the head with an unbelievable strength that knocked him out. Bloody Scottish women were terrifying.

To be fair, at the time, he had been polyjuiced as Voldemort but looking at his normal, healthy skin now, he knew the potion must have worn off. He stopped moving around and pulled against his restraints and laid back on the camp bed. He was startled moments later when a severe voice cut through the silence of the tent.

"Mister Malfoy, please explain to me how you are here, alive?" Minerva's lips were thin, thinner than he had ever seen them before.

"Hermione Granger brought Abraxas, Lucius, and I back from the dead using the Constituendum dynastia spell."

Her eyes narrowed. "And why would she do that?"

"From what I gathered she wasn't trying to bring us back but Potter and Weasley."

"Mr. Potter is not dead."

"I know. He came here with my mother and Snape. Bring him here, he will tell you."

"He is not here."

"Then where the hell is he?" Draco asked irritably. The one time he needed Potter to come through and he wasn't where he was supposed to be. Fucking figured.

Her eyes narrowed and he recognized the signs of impending trouble, having been on this side of his former professor, many times. He immediately stopped talking, wondering if she still held the horrible things he did against him. His heart sank in his stomach. It wasn't like he didn't deserve her anger. Before Hermione, he was a little bastard. Committing more than his fair share of heinous crimes- The Imperius, cursed objects, poison, prejudice, lying, bigotry, entitlement. Guilty of it all, he closed his eyes and waited for the guillotine to drop.

"Someone has spoken for you, claiming that you are not what you were in your boyhood. He claims that you are a changed man after you died and were brought back. That you love our Miss Granger."

"Who?"

"Neville Longbottom."

"Why? Why would he vouch for me?"

"He has his reasons, I am sure." She looked away looking displeased as if someone vouching for him was the epitome of bad taste. He swallowed loudly, internally thanking the boy that he spent countless hours bullying over the course of their boyhoods.

"What do you want from me?" He asked softly. An apology now would only seem contrived and empty. She flicked her wand and the restraints disappeared. Draco rubbed the chafed skin absently.

"I need you to do something for me. I need to get this package to Hermione Granger. It is spelled so only she can open it. If you try, you will be infected with the same curse that blackened Headmaster Dumbledore's arm the year he died." She handed him a small package, no bigger than a ring box.

"What is in here?"

"She will recognize it when she sees it."

Draco nodded. Trust only went so far unless you have earned the kind of devotion that Potter continually inspired in the populace. He pocketed the small box and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He reached for his wand and cringed back, remembering the wand he was using was Voldemorts. He quickly grabbed it and shoved it into an inner pocket, drawing out his own from the depths of his robes.

"How did you get You-Know-Who's wand?" She asked curiously.

"For a minute, we had him and then he drew from a stolen well of power. It won't be long until we can make our move. Severus is making a potion to sever that unholy bond and once they are no longer tethered, we will truly have our chance to destroy him once and for all." Draco said emphatically, finally standing. With a nod, he strode from the tent and angry witch, nodding at Longbottom as he passed to enter into the darkened wood so that he could apparate home.

**HGHG**

Abraxas sat on the hill facing the unicorn glade in the moonlight, pulling out blades of grass one by one and ripping them to shreds. He was angry, upset, and hurt. Hermione didn't trust him and went half-cocked into a situation in which she could have been killed. To him, it was immaterial that he intended to block her every attempt at leaving to go to that meeting. He had good reason to prevent her. He knew she was strong and capable but he wanted to protect her. Not just because he would cease to live if she died but because he couldn't stand the thought of her death.

It bothered him that she felt she couldn't come to him but realized bitterly that she had good reason not to. She was determined to go and he was determined to stop her and that put them at odds. Never again, he swore to himself. He would make sure that next time she knew she could go to him and he vowed he would work harder to understand her need to act. Instead of trying to stop her, he would stand with her and meet whatever fate came their way. Having decided on this course, he still loitered on the lush hill. He needed to apologize and he had never been the best at it, his pride disallowing the practice even if he was in the wrong. But for her, he would. He just needed a few moments more.

Bellatrix and his visit with her had shaken him. Never had he intended to bare so much of himself to the broken witch. And broken she was. The woman had been abused, discounted, and manipulated her whole entire life. She was this way because the people in her life molded her into this pitiful creature who didn't even know what love was. How was he any different from her father and Riddle? She was completely at his mercy, completely broken and he kept her in the torture chamber anyway. If the room was providing her with a play house and a baby doll, it was only for nefarious purposes. The room was designed to utterly break a person- mind body and soul, not to be kind and give the occupants what they want.

Still, he couldn't release her. The fear that she might not actually be broken stayed his hand. He couldn't take the chance that Bellatrix wouldn't immediately target Hermione and as long as she was a threat, there she would stay in the chamber- playhouse, doll, and all.

He took a deep fortifying breath and stood, brushing the grass off of his robes and walked back to the Manor, feeling as though he was facing a firing squad. The walk up to Hermione's rooms didn't take very long and before he knew it, he was staring at her closed door. He shifted from foot to foot, unable to lift his hand and knock, fearing that she would refuse him in her anger. He could recognize that it would not be entirely unjustified.

He stubbornly held on to the fact that he wasn't the only one who should be apologizing. She had run from him, put herself in danger, and had he not followed her, she could have been captured again. This time, he wasn't sure he would have been able to save her from Riddle's plans if he had taken her away.

Finally, with rising fury and narrowed eyes, he rapped on the door. Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to enter her room in temper to apologize but with all of the swirling and conflicting emotions, he wasn't in the proper state of mind. Fear and relief still in the forefront of his mind warred equally with his fury and penitent sentiments.

"Come in," Hermione's sour voice ordered.

Abraxas lost momentum for a moment, remembering belatedly that the elves had locked her in her room. Only a direct order from him would release her from her confinement and he grimaced. Rushing in angry was going to end in frustration for both of them. He tried to temper his furor and remembered that he was there to fix things, not make them worse. Abraxas pushed open the door, his emotions now firmly in check.

Hermione was sitting on the balcony alone, her knees drawn up to her chin and her back pressed against one of the glass doors. Staring out into the night, she refused to turn and look at whoever dared enter her domain. His lips twitched with amusement before he remembered that he was angry with her.

"Hermione,"

"You had them lock me in here!" she said through clenched teeth, still looking into the darkness straight ahead.

"Not exactly but Riddle was able to escape after you left and you wanted to go right to his base of operations. What would have happened to you? I don't know if we could have saved you a second time from there."

"I don't need to be saved!" She yelled.

"You are also only one person! You can't do everything by yourself. Why can't you let me help you?" He yelled back in frustration.

"You don't want to help me. You want to keep me here, safe, like a storybook damsel in distress! A porcelain doll!"

"I don't think there is anything wrong with wanting to protect you." He murmured quietly. He walked to her and slid down the door next to her- sitting shoulder to shoulder.

"If you want us to work out, you are going to have to trust that I can take care of myself and though I appreciate that you want to protect me, you can't lock me away like Rapunzel."

"Like who?"

"Rapunzel. A stolen princess kept in a locked tower for her childhood and teenaged years. A Muggle fairy tale."

"I'm sorry for locking you in here. I can't promise that I won't keep trying to protect you but I will no longer prevent you from fighting. Please, trust me enough to come to me and let me help you. I would rather stand at your side than panic because you are walking into danger alone. The last thing we need is a division of allies because we refuse to work together. We have a common enemy."

"We do," she agreed. "You can't lock me in the Manor. I can't live like this."

"That it will never happen again."

"Okay," She said, taking a deep breath. "I forgive you but Brax, I'm serious, you can't ever lock me in here again."

Abraxas took her hand and threaded his fingers through hers and brought them up to his lips. He kissed each fingertip.

"I promise,"

"It's late,"

"Indeed," He stood up and pulled her after him and smirked as he literally swept her off of her feet. "I would be a complete boor if I didn't make sure you were sufficiently ready for bed, my dear."

Hermione snorted and said, "You just want to get me out of my knickers."

"Yes, well there is that," He smirked and tossed her onto the bed, and she landed in the center, blankets fluffing up next to her ears. She laughed as he leaped after her- sans shoes. He crawled over her and began pulling off her robes, piece by piece. His mouth on each inch of skin he uncovered. Her fingers flew to his buttons, pushing the starched material off of his broad shoulders.

They undressed each other in a frenzy, both impatient to feel skin against skin. Abraxas kissed his way down her torso, ignoring her breasts and hardened nipples for the moment. The stubble of his face felt rough against her tender skin of her belly and abdomen as he continued kissing down her body. He hitched one of her legs over his shoulder and settled himself between her spread thighs.

Hermione's core flooded with desire and she threw back her head against the pillows, writhing under Abraxas' gaze. Using his thumbs to spread her labia, he admired the shiny pink folds and Hermione started to squirm. He blew cold air on her clit, torturing her and testing her patience which was quickly abandoning her.

With a smile full of male satisfaction, he set to make her scream. His tongue swirled around her hardened nub, flicking fast and steady. Hermione was in nirvana, her body held in exquisite torment as the waves of her orgasm began to crest.

She groaned when his long fingers slid into her, massaging her inner walls, beckoning against the spongy area that sent lightning through her veins. She reached for him then, needing him inside her when she finally let go and shattered. Abraxas let himself be pulled away from her core and slid into her to the hilt. His hand caressing her neglected breast, lightly pinching her nipples. It was complete bliss, to be joined to him in such a fashion. He knew exactly what her body wanted, knew exactly how to move. She was gone, riding the waves of their desire.

Sweat dripped off of their bodies as he thrust into her. His lips were teasing- biting and sucking against the column of her throat. His tongue flicked against the sting of his attentions as he moved to nibble on her earlobe.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear, hoarse with the power of his feelings.

That was all it took for Hermione to shatter. Her inner walls pulsed around his cock and her fingers gripped his firm arse, drawing him closer- further inside of her. She kissed his shoulder, over and over, a litany of his name on her lips as she climaxed. His thrusts grew erratic as he moved faster, pistoning in and out of her slick channel. Stiffening as his own orgasm washed over him, coating her cervix in his seed.

Resting his head on hers, he attempted to catch his breath, still holding his weight from crushing her.

"Is that true?"

"What?"

"That you love me,"

"I have loved you for so long, not always in this way, but I have always loved you. Even before I met you. I will never express my gratitude to the fates that be that I get to be with you like this. You in my arms, mine to protect and love and cherish. Thank you, Hermione, for bringing me back. You are everything I have ever wanted and more."

"Sometimes you frustrate me to no end, Abraxas Malfoy but I love you too."

**HGHG**

It was time. The end was so close he could taste it. Voldemort sat behind the Headmaster's desk and traced his bottom lip absently. He had come close to losing when Hermione's knights followed her to their meeting. Had he not been able to draw power from Narcissa, they would have. To make things worse, several of his prisoners had escaped and his servants in charge of their incarceration mutinied, turning their wands on him. They suffered greatly until their blood was thick upon the stone corridor of Azkaban. They realized their mistake quickly but paid the ultimate price for their disloyalty. He reveled in the violence and death that he left behind.

No longer could he afford to wait for Hermione to come to him. Recognizing that he was unable to afford any more losses because she and her Malfoy harem were obscenely competent and powerful, he decided he would have to do without her for now. The only option he had was to separate them and take them out one at a time.

Knowing that Lucius had left the country, he decided that he would start there. Lucius on his own, though formidable, could be taken out and he would have to do it personally. Voldemort stood a smirk twisted his lips cruelly.

Chapter Text

15

Previously:

Knowing that Lucius had left the country, Voldemort decided that he would start there. Lucius on his own, though formidable, could be taken out and he would have to do it personally. Voldemort stood a smirk twisted his lips cruelly.

**HGHG**

Lucius pushed a chunk of his sopping wet hair out of his face as he furiously ran through the dark town in France. It was the last stop before he was safely on the ferry and once he stepped foot onto British soil, he would apparate home. Spells rained down upon him just as heavily as the rain and he was forced to forgo any comfort from the elements to focus solely on his enemy's fire. He was nearly out of stamina, having carved his way through several countries with Voldemort supporters on his heels.

Neon colors exploded the dirt at his feet and he jumped avoiding them while he was busy deflecting dark spells aimed right for fatal zones. He was out of breath, wet, tired, and mildly injured. He was at the end of his tether. His goal was to get to the safety of the wizard ferry, an ancient site that allowed all of its passenger's safety between France and England, it was just a bonus that it was owned and run by his mother's family.

He finally turned the last curve around the pretty little sea-side cottages before the ferry came into view when he came to a sudden halt. The road in front of him was blocked off with his former peers from Voldemort's ranks. Sebastian Nott leading them all.

"Hello Lucius," He sneered and sauntered forward, leaving his minions behind. "we can do this the easy way or the hard way. It is up to you. Come with us to meet our Dark Lord."

Lucius looked behind him and dread felt like a led weight in his stomach as he noticed he was surrounded. Two days of running, fighting, deflecting all leading up to this moment. He bared his teeth in frustration, ignoring the rivulet of rain running down his neck and between his pectorals soaking the inside of his clothes, making chafing a very real danger. He got his emotions and facial expressions back under control and threw his most arrogant glare back at Nott.

"The invitation is quite flattering but I am unable to attend at this time. Send a card to the Manor and I will see if I can pencil you in," Lucius smirked. Through the heavy rain, Lucius saw the ferryman standing at the gates and tried not to show his relief. His cousin Mathis would undoubtedly come to his aid if he had to. If that was the case he and his family would go into hiding for the foreseeable future, shutting down the ferry until the war ended or they were found but family always protected their own.

"You always were an arrogant bastard, Lucius. If you come quietly he might show you mercy."

"Have you ever seen the Dark Lord give anyone mercy? No, I am a dead man if I willingly go with you."

Nott gestured to the lackeys surrounding Lucius and that's when he made his move. Lucius could never allow himself to be taken, not after finally uniting with Hermione. Twirling his wand about his head, a long rope of fire erupted from the tip and he cracked it as if it were a whip, leaving bloody lines on the faces of his enemies. The lesser of the group fell back wisely afraid of Lucius and his deadly wand skills.

There was nothing for Lucius to lose. If he couldn't get away from them, he was dooming not only himself but Narcissa to a dire future, unacceptable. He snapped his whip expertly wrapping it around Nott's neck. He pulled and Nott's gargled scream made the others hesitate, knowing the legends of Lucius while in his prime before his fall from favor with Voldemort. He was not a man to be crossed and their instincts told them that he was even more deadly now than he was at the height of his power. Blood seeped beneath Nott's fingers running unchecked into the collar of his robes.

The shock of Lucius' attack opened a small window where Nott had stood moments before. He only had this one chance at escape. Letting his whip lengthen, he rushed to the small opening, elbowing the windpipe of one of his assailants and completely bowling over the other. Spells were shot at him and later he would wonder how so many killing curses were cast and not one of them landed. It was providence. Nothing else could explain his sheer amount of luck in getting onto the ferry platform with only insignificant wounds. He ignored the few beads of blood soaking the side of his robes. They would clot and heal on their own soon enough.

The moment he stepped foot on the ancient dock, he felt the wards caress his body and he exhaled heavily with relief. Thousands of years of mistrust and the need for sanctuary while traveling between countries started the practice of warding the crossings between the isles and the continent. An accord and wards that rivaled Hogwarts were the only things that saved Lucius Malfoy from a horrible death that would condemn Narcissa and the rest of the wizarding world to something far worse than the prospect of death.

Lucius shook Mathis' hand and the two men walked onto the small ferry and Lucius slid down one of the walls. Carefully, he pulled out the small moleskin pouch and opened the neck pulling out the small purple root. He closed his hand around it gently and raised his fist to his forehead, closing his eyes.

"Thank Merlin," He murmured. Had the Hazia been damaged, it would have been rendered unusable and there would have been no second chances. He exhausted every option, pulled every string, called in an immense amount of favors just to get the root he held in his hand. To be forced to journey for it a second time… He couldn't even imagine the hell he would have to face to try acquiring the rare root a second time.

He carefully put the root back in the pouch and slid it back into an inner pocket of his robe. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He needed the rest for when he reached the other side. He would have to step out of the wards to apparate. It was there on British soil where he would be most vulnerable, valuable seconds outside of the wards where anyone could be waiting, where he could be waiting. Lucius massaged the bridge of his nose. He had just over four hours to rest and settled himself into a more comfortable position before falling asleep under the watchful eye of Mathis, the ferry master.

**HGHG**

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Narcissa was sitting on the Dog's mattress, caressing the Lupin child's face while he slept. It didn't matter how many times they had this conversation, it seemed she wouldn't come to his point of view. She couldn't stay here. End of story. She would unwittingly kill every person in this room. He could admit that he wouldn't be shattered if Black snuffed it, but a hundred people's worth of innocent blood on his hands might possibly tip him into insanity. Why couldn't she just accept that Teddy would be safer here with Black than anywhere near her?

Black and Potter were on the other side of the dark cavernous room catching up or comparing notes or whatever they did when they got together. It was annoying, the easy comradery that seemed to be given to Potter just because of who his father had been. Severus had never been given such benefits by anyone, let alone his father's old school mates.

Casting a nonverbal tempus, the current time glowed in the air next to him. Grimacing, he approached Narcissa again. The only indication he had that she knew he was there was from the tightening around her mouth. They both knew what he was going to say.

"We have to go and not just because he can find you here and kill everyone but also because I am working on the potion that will sever his connection with you and it needs to be tended to. And don't say that I could do what needs to be done and come back for you. These people are sitting ducks and if you brought him in through the wards and Teddy was a casualty, you know you would never forgive yourself! Come with me and once the potion is complete, you can come back. I will bring you here myself if I must."

"Severus, I am afraid if I leave, I will never see him again. Just a few minutes more,"

"I already allowed you more time than prudent! Narcissa, be reasonable!"

"I am sick and tired of being reasonable and sensible and putting everyone else first!"

"Don't break now, Love." He murmured into her ear as he pulled her closer, enveloping her with his own body. "We have to leave and when this is all over, you can come back."

Narcissa turned to him and hugged him, tangling her hands into the hair at the nape of his neck, fisting them as she buried her face on his shoulder. She was so tired of fighting, of being scared.

"Okay," she sighed softly. Allowing Voldemort access because she wished to stay was madness and she still had people she needed to protect. Teddy was her nephew and the last bit of her sister that was still alive. The sister that had the balls to tell the family to fuck off when they wouldn't even consider Ted Tonks as an appropriate marital alliance. She wished she was more like Andromeda then and now.

With one last caress, Narcissa left Severus' arms and interrupted Harry and Sirius' whispered conversation.

"I have to leave. Severus and I have to finish the potion and wait for Lucius."

"Do you want me to come with you both?" Harry asked, obviously torn between wanting to stay with his godfather and stay with her since they began this adventure together.

"No, it would be more helpful for you to be here. I don't want to be responsible for being the reason Harry Potter was murdered by Tom Riddle. Not when we are this close to the end."

"If we weren't near the end you wouldn't mind my demise?" Harry teased.

"That is not what I meant,"

Sirius and Harry both smiled at her, chuckling softly in the quiet vault.

"I know, keep yourself alive, yeah?" Harry said, staring intently at her. She felt like he was asking something completely different but couldn't put her finger on what he really was saying to her. She furrowed her brow when Severus took her arm and sneered at Harry and Sirius before beckoning to the tiny elf who had brought them. Her blue eyes bore into Harry's green ones in confusion. His lopsided smile was the last thing she saw before she materialized in a cave with Severus. "Where are we?"

"Teesdale."

"How do you know of this place?" She asked, looking around at the blackened spell damage to the walls and rock stools that surrounded the small stone table in the back. A steaming cauldron and various ingredients littered the top.

"Lucius and I have come here for years after the Death Eater meetings. They were often gruesome and perverse. This is where we let off the steam from that, dueling until we felt a semblance of normal."

Narcissa nodded. Much of what Lucius had done while married to her had been a mystery. He wasn't inclined to share himself with her but she had a feeling that Hermione would not be allowing such distance to form. Perhaps if Narcissa had tried harder, insisted on transparency their marriage wouldn't have been such a mess. Then again, she wasn't Hermione. Narcissa would never be the love of his life, no matter what she did or didn't do while married. It was hard to accept, even now but there was too much hurt and resentment to hang on to that sinking ship.

Looking over her shoulder, she watched Severus' dark eyes follow her each and every movement as he stirred the potion. Her stomach clenched as heat entered his gaze. There was no doubt about his feelings. Her fingers trailed from one blackened mark to another on the wall, her stare never leaving his.

"Fuck." Severus cursed as he carelessly touched the hot surface of the cauldron. Switching hands on the stirring rod, he brought the burnt appendage to his mouth and sucked. Narcissa giggled, turning her attention back to the constellation of burn marks. Severus smiled, keeping his concentration on the potion.

With one final clockwise stir, he lifted out the rod and placed it on the table next to the cauldron and studied the surface of the potion, a dark purple-red concoction that looked like congealed blood. It smelled like lilacs, so that was a bonus. All it needed now was the Hazia and a day of simmering.

"I thought it would take at least a month to make," Narcissa said, her finely arched brow nearly to her hairline.

"If anyone else brewed it, perhaps it would have,"

"You aren't going to tell me how you did it are you?"

"If I told you that, Love," He said, stalking her across the room and caging her in between his arms. His palms laid flat against the stone near her head and he leaned in so that their lips were nearly touching. "I would have to kill you."

Narcissa rolled her eyes and placed her hands on his chest, leaning even closer so that their lips were brushing. "I would like to see you try,"

There was a second where they were suspended, frozen in time. Neither moving, barely breathing as their lips touched. Taking a deep breath through her nose, Narcissa crushed her lips against his, surprising the hell out of him. He moaned in ecstasy, the vibration rumbling against her fingers.

He pressed her against the stone wall of the cave, lips, and tongue caressing her lips, seeking permission to deepen the kiss. Her stomach clenched and heat pooled between her legs. She could feel his hard body against her, pressing into the cradle of her thighs. He was a man of no little endowment and she swiveled her hips into his. Her hand moved from his chest down. The tips of her fingers explored his clothed body and she felt the rush of lust and naughtiness that usually was reserved for teenagers. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she kissed him back fervently.

**HGHG**

Draco pushed Hermione's door open quietly, hoping that Abraxas would have made sure she returned home safely. He sighed happily as he saw her curly head above the blankets but a thoughtful look crossed his face as he noticed Abraxas and his naked chest that was being used as Hermione's pillow. For a moment, he was undecided on what to do. Should he leave and give them privacy or should he join them?

Who was he kidding, Hermione's naked shoulders drew him like a moth to a flame. He needed to feel her skin against his lips, fingers, and body. He was already slowly moving to the bed, clothes dropping to the floor as he peeled them off piece by piece

Naked, he crawled under the covers spooning against Hermione backside, his lips already tasting the skin of her shoulders. He breathed in heavily, letting the scent of her surround him and closed his eyes.

When he opened them, he saw Abraxas' questioning gaze and peeled his lips from Hermione's delectable shoulder long enough to converse over Hermione's sleeping form.

"Azkaban?" Abraxas asked softly.

"The Dark Lord showed up, my only saving grace was that I had his wand. His minions didn't know who to target. I got seven out. Minerva McGonagall took us all straight to the resistance. They held me there for a while until the polyjuice wore off."

"We will talk more tomorrow." It was not a question and they both knew it.

Abraxas ran his fingers over Hermione's hair and lifted it out of the way so that Draco could kiss and suck on her neck, the spot just under her ear that Abraxas found that she really loved attention. Draco smirked at him, feeling confident that this was going to be a night that none of them would ever forget.

He slid his fingers down the curve of her body and studied the feel of her as if it would be his last time with her. He couldn't get enough of her.

"Hello, Love," Abraxas murmured to Hermione as she woke up.

"Wha?" She asked groggily and Draco pressed into her from behind, his erection poking into her bum.

"Honey, I'm home," Draco muttered in her ear even as he licked the shell of her ear.

"Azkaban?"

"Success," he whispered. She softened in his arms, allowing her head to fall back on Draco's shoulder and baring her breasts for Abraxas who took great pleasure in rolling the stiffened peaks between his forefinger and thumb.

Draco moved his kisses down her back along her spine and smiled while placing one after another in a trail as she shivered under his mouth.

"Draco," She murmured, arousal making her voice husky.

Abraxas raised her chin so that he could lean in and capture her lips, caressing her tongue and mouth with reverence and possession. She couldn't help shivering between both of their attention to her body.

Draco went up on his knees and pulled her onto hers, even though she was still connected to Abraxas. His hand was on the back of her neck holding on to her as if he dared the world to rip them apart. His mouth was hot and expert against hers and Draco's hand had trailed over her bum and down her thighs, chuckling as he avoided her slick folds. Abraxas's other hand was still rolling her nipple and she swore that she would melt into a puddle between them. A hot needy puddle.

She went cross eyed as Draco finally parted her labia and traced the sensitive skin around the hood of her engorged clit. Had her mouth been free, she would have begged him to stop teasing, to give her relief. His long fingers slid into her clenching channel and back out, spreading her natural lubrication over her nub. She never wanted him to stop. She arched her back and thrust her bum into his hips. He chuckled and withdrew his hand, earning a wanton whimper. He wasn't gone for long, having taken his cock in hand, he rubbed his head against her clit then to her pussy and back.

Draco thrust into her slowly with short thrusts until he was fully coated with her juices. Abraxas let his hand trail from her nipples down her abdomen until he was using his clever fingers to rub small circles around her sensitive bead.

Hermione threw her head back, making her curls dance around her and Abraxas, his thumb caressing that spot on her neck that drove her mad when one of her men kissed or rubbed their stubble against it.

Hermione reached back behind her and sunk her nails into the back of Draco's thigh as she tried to pull him in faster, harder.

"Draco, more!" She whined. His hands gripped her hips and he picked up his pace.

"Don't forget Brax, Granger," Draco murmured through clenched teeth, the veins standing out on his neck. Hermione gasped and brought her hand back from his thigh to support herself and moved her other hand to Abraxas' obvious erection. She couldn't concentrate with any consistency so he brought his hand over hers, helping her in wanking him. There was nothing sexier than a man that knew exactly how he wanted to be touched. Even if it meant he was no longer rubbing her clit. Watching his face, she relished in his pleasure. She grew even wetter while watching his handsome face tense, his teeth clenched.

Hermione could feel how close she was; her legs were shaking and her whole body was taut with her impending orgasm. With Draco thrusting into her and Abraxas's hand guiding hers over his cock, she couldn't hold back any longer.

"I'm coming!" Hermione whispered, her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

Shattering and clenching around Draco set him off and he rocked into her, shuddering against her, curling around her and laying his forehead against her spine. Fingers still dug into the flesh of her hips.

As Hermione came back to herself, she opened her eyes and studied Abraxas's face as she continued wanking him with his expert help. He had beads of sweat on his head and the muscle in his jaw was ticking in time to the strokes.

Draco pulled out of her and settled on the bed next to her. Hermione looked at him and winked, moving further down and enveloping the head of Abraxas' cock in her mouth. He growled, hips thrusting, straining to have her take more of his length. His hands dropped away and his eyes opened as he watched her mouth close around him and slide down his rod, tongue against the underside of him, her hand fisted around his base.

Both Abraxas and Draco's eyes were molten lava, watching her suck and lick Abraxas' cock. Draco held her hair out of her face and they both watched her, completely riveted. Her cheeks hallowed on every up beat, her tongue swirling around his tip. He continued thrusting up, whether on purpose or instinct, she wasn't sure but she relished the ability to render this man so completely under her control. She felt powerful. She felt sexy. She never wanted this to stop.

"Ahhh," Abraxas' throaty groan heralded his climax, sperm covering her tongue in salty ropes. Hermione continued to lick and suck him until there was nothing left in him. She looked up to Abraxas' lazy smile and Draco's raging hard on.

Draco smiled, lifting a single cocky brow, a challenge if she ever saw one. Hermione crawled up the bed and straddled his lap- lifting herself up and lining him up before sinking back down.

Hermione was so sensitive and she rolled her hips watching Draco's face as she set a slow and frustrating pace.

**HGHG**

Abraxas woke up the next morning with a smile on his face and left Draco and Hermione asleep. He lifted the wards that had kept Hermione prisoner and walked back to his room, determined to shower and dress. He had a mad witch to talk to this morning.

It didn't take him long to get ready for the day and decided to skip breakfast before seeing to his prisoner. He never knew what he would find in the chamber and it was always best to keep a clear stomach, just in case.

The moment he pushed open the obsidian door, the room cooled. It had been sweltering and the stink was nearly unbearable, the prisoners in the cages moaning. It was the first time he heard anything from them since that first day. The room must have determined that the prisoners needed to hear each other's torment. Abraxas shuddered. After this war was over, he never wanted to step another toe in this room.

Steeling himself for what he would find, Abraxas approached the area of the room that was Bellatrix's and looked on in astonishment as the small house was now surrounded by a lovely garden with a brook running down the center with decorative laurels on either side of a gravel path. Bellatrix was sitting on a bench with her back towards him and he slowly made his way to where she sat.

Once he rounded the bench, he saw that she was cradling her baby doll and her face was open in its utter contentment. The gravel crunched under his shoes as he shifted from one foot to another, uncomfortable. She cracked her eyes open and smiled wide in welcome.

"Do you want to hold her?" Bellatrix asked.

Abraxas not wanting to offend the mad woman, gingerly sat on the wooden bench next to her and held his arms out so that she could lay the doll gently in the natural cradle. He sat back and looked out at the scenery that the room provided. It was peaceful and lovely and wondered how this was designed to further break the woman.

"Hermione has been such a good girl for me. I never met a baby that never fussed. She is just perfect, isn't she?"

"Hermione? I thought you named her Auriga."

"Auriga?" She asked perplexed as if she had never heard the name before. "It's a lovely name, I suppose. But her father has a love for Shakespeare, the playwright and insisted on the name Hermione."

Abraxas frowned, perplexed. "Bellatrix, who do you think is the father?"

"Bellatrix?" she asked confused. "Why are you calling me that? My name is Eliza. Eliza Granger."

Abraxas looked at her in horror. He stood and thrust her baby back into her arms and fled to the tiny house provided. Looking at it now, it had morphed into a very familiar looking home. He slammed the door open unintentionally hard and ignored the crash as he stared at the interior of the house with a sick look on his face and in his stomach. Bellatrix hurried in behind him and laid a hand on his arm.

"Abraxas, are you okay? Do you want me to get Richard?"

"Love, is everything alright?" a deep voice materialized from the stairwell, a construct of the room. An exact replica of Richard Granger surrounded by the home that Hermione grew up in.

"It's Abraxas, I think he is sick,"

"Abraxas? Are you okay mate?"

Abraxas whirled around and grabbed Bellatrix's arms in a bruising grip. Panic holding him in thrall. What was happening?

"Abraxas, you're hurting me!"

"Let her go! What is the matter with you?" Richard yelled and made a grab for him but being a construct, he couldn't actually do anything. He wasn't real.

"My God," He choked out, now slightly shaking Bellatrix as she cried out for 'Hermione's' safety. "We have to get you out of here."

Abraxas took the doll out of her arms and laid it in the cradle in the living room before grabbing her arms and forcing her out in front of him. Maybe if she wasn't in the room, she would remember who she really was.

His breathing was racing and erratic as the crossed the doorway of the torture chamber. He let her go and she turned screaming to pound on the door that separated her from her 'child'.

Abraxas rubbed his face for a moment then forced her arms by her side and said, "Who are you?" He was hoping, praying that she knew who she was.

"You have known me for years, Abraxas. I am Eliza Granger and you are keeping me from my family! Open this damn door Abraxas Malfoy or I swear…"

"I can't let you back in that room," He swallowed harshly. "Bella, because that room is designed to break you. Hermione is not a baby any longer. She is a woman and lives with me in the Manor."

"I don't believe you," She whispered.

"I will show you but you cannot talk to her."

"Why not?"

"You are not her mother, Eliza. You are Bellatrix Lestrange and you are the woman who tortured her with the Cruciatus curse, right here in the Manor." Abraxas summoned a small hand mirror and turned it so that Bellatrix could see her own reflection. Abraxas had only enough time to cast a silencing charm before Bellatrix screamed. It was filled with pain and agony, the piercing shriek of a woman who perceived the world as a destroyer. It ripped through Abraxas and he shuddered with its intensity.

She sprinted away from him and the Manor, her feral expression terrifying and he thought perhaps this was a much kinder fate for her. Abraxas knew she wouldn't harm Hermione, not now- not ever. Let her fade into obscurity. But as he turned around back towards the Manor, he had a sinking feeling that Bellatrix would be back and it would irrevocably change them all.

**HGHG**

Hermione walked into the sitting room for tea and smiled at Bill and Luna who were sitting snugly together on the couch. Sigurd was stalking the perimeter, obviously feeling like a caged animal. His eyes flew to hers the moment she entered the room and he visibly relaxed. It was as if he had been waiting for her and yet feared she would never come.

"Elskede," He murmured before leaning down and kissing her temple, wrapping his large rough hand around her much smaller one.

"Good morning Sigurd," She said happily. He was so very sweet.

"Would you show me the gardens?"

"How about we go exploring together. I don't know it well myself." She said. Detangling their hands, she noticed a flash of reluctance before he smoothed his expression back to neutrality. She made herself a cup of tea and returned to Sigurd, threading her fingers through his.

The both of them left the room through the French doors that led to the small stone patio and rose garden.

"Here is as good as anywhere to start," Sigurd said smiling. He brought their hands up to his mouth and kissed the back of her hand.

"I've only been to the unicorn glade and I only saw that once. You mentioned something about planting walnut wand trees near the unicorns. Do you want to see how that grove fared?"

"That sounds great, Elskede." He murmured his eyes bright with wonder and happiness and the only thing he looked at was her. The whole way. As if he wasn't a dangerous warrior that had won the Malfoy lands using his sword and force of will to hold it against his enemies.

"Magic wasn't as focused and precise back then," He began and Hermione took a sip of tea.

"What do you mean?"

"The magic comes from within, not from a wand. Wands weren't a big thing then. I mostly used my sword to focus my magic as did most men that I knew did with their weapons. My mother used a staff and the other women used other various things. I didn't pay much attention to that. Of course, there were always the wand makers that lived here and in France and I think that might have been more of a cultural difference."

"You said it was more unfocused but you used things other than a wand to focus your magic. What do you mean by that?"

"There were those that didn't need a wand. The belief was that a wand would stifle such beings. Those people were powerful. I met one once, a boy, no more than twelve. He could move water in a way I had never seen before. He could suck it from the very air and create a floating water trap that could drown his enemies in minutes. He didn't live very long and I think that is only because he had no school, no mentor. His only goal was to protect his sister, the last living person in his family."

"What happened to them?"

"Someone more experienced and cunning came and killed the boy and claimed the girl as his wife. He wanted that magic in his line. Who wouldn't?"

"Do you know what family they were?"

"Sure, everyone knew the Gaunts. One of the most powerful families on this side of the Earth."

Hermione stopped in her tracks and looked at him in horror. The Gaunts. Tom Riddle- her. She thought she was going to be sick.

"That is the power that was passed to me supposedly? I am very accomplished with a wand. I don't feel stifled at all."

"Nor would you, being from two such lines."

"Two?"

"The unnamed boy and Merlin's. A formidable witch you will be. Are already. You alone brought my decedents back from the dead. Waking me was no mean feat either. The amount of magic needed and you didn't even notice. You are the most incredible woman I have ever met and that includes my Prophetess of a mother."

Hermione smiled and finished her tea before Sigurd banished it back to the sitting room with a wave of his hand. They topped the knoll and Sigurd caught his breath. What once was a meadow with a small stream running through it was now a wooded glade, hundreds of walnut trees protected by Bowtruckles filled the landscape as far as the eye could see.

"Incredible," Sigurd breathed.

**HGHG**

Lucius stepped off the ferry, hoping that he would have enough time to apparate away before his attackers could strike. Half in the wards and half out, a sound reached his ears that chilled his blood. Voldemort dropped the disillusionment that had hidden him on the dock.

"Lucius," He hissed, his wand pointed at the semi exposed man. "Join me before it is too late. This is the last time I will offer such amnesty. Come back to me, to your brothers and I will reward you with whatever your heart desires. There is no way that Potter can win." He spread his arms wide. "This world is mine now. Untold power is in my grasp. Take my mark."

"Your words are full of lies." Lucius glared, his own wand clenched in his hand.

"I can give you the girl. Hermione can be yours alone. You wouldn't have to share her with other men. I can do that for you."

"You forget that you would have to kill my father and son to make that possible."

"I did it once, I could do it again."

"Malfoys take care of their own. Always. I will never join you again."

"That is a shame," Voldemort hissed, as he cast a nonverbal spell at Lucius who had finally moved, bringing his whole body out of the wards before apparating away but not before Voldemort's purple spell hit him in the chest.

Lucius stumbled as he reached his destination- the cave in Teesdale. The place where Severus was undoubtedly working on the potion that would separate Narcissa from Tom Riddle. He landed on his knees, weak and unable to stand any longer. His hands came up to his chest and he drew them away, coated in blood. Looking up it was obvious that the inhabitants of the cave had yet to notice him. Severus had Narcissa against the wall, kissing the hell out of her.

Lucius groaned and fell on his face, unconscious.

Chapter Text

16

Previously:

Lucius stumbled as he reached his destination- the cave in Teesdale. The place where Severus was undoubtedly working on the potion that would separate Narcissa from Tom Riddle. He landed on his knees, weak and unable to stand any longer. His hands came up to his chest and he drew them away, coated in blood. Looking up it was obvious that the inhabitants of the cave had yet to notice him. Severus had Narcissa against the wall, kissing the hell out of her.

Lucius groaned and fell on his face, unconscious.

**HGHG**

A loud crash snapped the couple's attention to the unconscious man on the floor in front of them. Narcissa stared, frozen for several moments before what she was seeing registered. Snape didn't have such issues. The moment his attention was focused; he was moving with his wand cutting the air with decisive flicks. Intricate diagnostics floating above Lucius' prone form.

"Mobilicorpus," Snape murmured, directing Lucius to the small stone stool.

Narcissa, seeing what Snape intended, enlarged the stone chair and made it big enough for Lucius to be laid upon it. Blood dripped from the black material, giving it a shiny gloss, trailing crimson droplets behind them. And as soon as he was set down, Narcissa stripped him of his clothes, sending them to fold and lay on the floor of the cave.

She caught her breath as the star-shaped wound on his chest was revealed. It looked as if something inside of him exploded out, leaving behind a macabre burst of flesh and gore. Blood flowed from the wound, unchecked, and Narcissa swallowed in fear and revulsion. She was never very good with this sort of thing, to begin with.

Even though she didn't know what to do, Severus was already murmuring spells under his breath, thickening the very air with powerful spells and counter curses. Had Lucius gone anywhere else to seek treatment or help, he would have most likely died. Only Severus' powerful stasis staunched the blood flow. Narcissa breathed easier for it, having faith that Severus could do anything.

"Cissy, go to the back of the cave. There is a concealed entrance to my personal stores of potions. We need blood replenisher." He glanced up at her before turning all of his attention back onto Lucius.

Quickly, Narcissa went to the back of the cave where she easily found a warded entry. Surprisingly, the wards merely caressed her as she walked through them. She would have to ask Severus about that later.

His stores were a thing of beauty. Infinite shelves lined the cavernous room and she wondered why he used the front room as the main working space when they had access to the vaulted ceilings and a cavern to rival the rainforest room in Malfoy Manor. Looking around at the glittering bottles of potions that reached from the floor to higher than she could see. It would be impossible to find anything in there. Unless…

"Accio blood replenishing potion," She said. A clear glass bottle filled to the neck with a ruby red liquid flew into her hand. She summoned another and left, wishing for more time to explore the depths of Severus Snape's potion stores. She had a feeling the things that she might find in there would be nothing short of awe inspiring.

Once she left the warded storeroom, Narcissa uncorked one of the vials in her hand and lifted Lucius' head, carefully feeding him the potion. Almost immediately his face flushed with health, looking merely as if he were asleep. There was little more she could do and she settled into waiting for Severus to finish, hoping that Lucius could be healed. She had seen Severus heal under much more difficult circumstances before and she was hopeful that this time was no exception for his prodigious skill.

Severus had been working on Lucius for hours when the wounded wizard finally blinked his eyes open. Fisting his hand in Severus' robes and with a show of surprising strength, he pulled the dark wizard close enough to hear the whispered information falling from his lips.

"The Hazia is in the moleskin in my robes. Pull it out and finish the potion. We need to make sure Narcissa is free of him as soon as possible."

"Who did this to you?" Severus asked now that Lucius was stable and conscious.

"Who do you think? Our former master, of course. He seems hell bent on acquiring Hermione. This time with the lure of killing the rest of my family. He never did understand our loyalty to each other." Lucius closed his eyes as Narcissa reached inside his robes for the pouch holding the all-important root that would set her free from her unwanted bond with Voldemort. Lucius reached a shaking hand out toward her and together, they managed to draw out the tuber.

"Is this it?" Narcissa muttered, obviously unimpressed. It was a small and slightly shriveled purple tuber, much like an iris'.

Severus smirked and took the root, taking a moment to lightly squeeze Lucius' shoulder. A mark of nonverbal thankfulness; It was a language they both understood only between each other as neither were overly verbose about their feelings.

Narcissa circled the table until she was on the only stool left and took his hand in hers. They had worked on him, healed him over the long night. And she tried to not let her exhaustion show. Taking his hand in hers was a comfort to both of them. They were still friends and had a son together, despite both being free of the dismal mistakes they had made as children.

"You and Severus, huh?" Lucius teased quietly with a smirk.

"You already knew that,"

"You looked pretty happy that he had you pinned to the wall,"

"Any woman who is pinned to the wall by the man she loves is going to be pretty happy about it. I wouldn't be surprised if you haven't already had Hermione against the wall." Narcissa said with her nose in the air, sniffing disdainfully. She nearly chuckled in triumph when she saw his cheeks flush a light pink, a barely noticeable embarrassment. "You have, haven't you?" She nearly crowed. And he had the nerve to comment on her actions. HA!

Severus meticulously prepared the small root in long even strips and prayed that the small root would be big enough for what the potion required. When he had sent Lucius on this improbable mission, he had assumed that any Hazia that he would get his hands on would be the standard size. Severus also knew that had anything else been available, anything bigger, it would have been Lucius'. The Malfoys were not men that did things by half.

Once he was done with his task, he measured out the required amount and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Not even a gram left over. He had never sweat so hard in his life in such a short amount of time and that includes all the times he was under the wand for punishment during his stint as a spy.

Carefully, he dropped in the Hazia and stirred, smiling fully as the surface of the potion finally matched its delectable smell, lilac. All it needed now, was twenty-four hours to cure and then Narcissa would finally be free from the parasitic draw of Voldemort. Turning back to the blond couple and noticed Narcissa's hand rubbing soothing circles on Lucius' knuckles. He burned with jealousy. But only for a moment. It would be ridiculous to hold their previous attachment against them, especially when neither one of them had been happy in their arrangement.

Narcissa lifted her eyes and met his with a mischievous twinkle and all he could do was smile back at the most beautiful woman in the world.

**HGHG**

Hermione admired Sigurd's powerful form as he caressed the trunk of one of the many walnut trees that had come about only because he had first planted a grove on behalf of the Bowtruckles.

"How were they able to use their magic without a wand? Was there some ritual they used to unleash it?"

"Not that I am aware. From what I understand, these people use their magic instinctually. Whatever their need is, the magic rises up to fulfill their wishes." Sigurd turned back to Hermione,

"I used it once when my life was in danger and again when I desperately wanted to stop Abraxas from stopping me from meeting Riddle. Then, I tried to use it to take down the wards keeping me in my bedroom and I couldn't. Must I be desperate to use it?"

"The young boy that was killed by the Gaunt heir was focused and could call upon it at will."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes. I heard the talk of him and saw him in action once. He did a demonstration for a group of us who were very curious. He could work with water from any source, for what lives on this earth that does not contain water at its very core? He could have drawn it out of you and left nothing but a husk. Although, I fear that would have killed him as well. The amount of power required would have been too much for a boy of twelve. Do you manipulate water as well?

"No mine was more like lightning," Hermione said, with a furrowed brow.

"Intriguing. Excelling in wandwork and having these wandless abilities... You are the most delicious conundrum, Elskede."

Hermione looked up at the sky as the screech of an owl cut through the silence and furrowed her brow in confusion. The owl was known to her only because it was one of the school owls from Hogwarts that she had used most often. It held a tightly rolled scroll in its talons and Hermione reached out her bare arm to the large bird, knowing that to do so would tear the tender skin of her arm.

Just before the owl landed, Sigurd murmured a spell, he had reached above his shoulder to grab the hilt of his sword, needing the physical touch of his chosen conduit. It drew her eyes like a moth to a flame, his hard muscles rippled beneath the fabric of his robes, robes that didn't hide his delectable physique at all.

Linen strips wrapped around her forearm as if it had been freshly bandaged and smiled as the owl settled himself on her arm. Sigurd winked at her, and Hermione blushed from the sheer look of sexual masculinity in front of her. She couldn't deny that he was one sexy wizard.

He smirked, clearly pleased that he had drawn her eye. Hermione tore her gaze from the Viking warrior in front of her and took the scroll from the owl. The bird took wing the moment his job was completed, obviously not expecting a reply in return.

She unrolled the scroll and blanched at what she found in the center. A small child's bloody ear. She turned immediately to reading, cupping the gruesome gift in one of her hands.

My dear beloved cousin,

For days, I have labored over an appropriate gift to send you. You left home so abruptly, I had to wonder if you left of your own accord. We both know you couldn't have walked out on your own. My darling cousin, I feel so torn. How can I be sure you are safe when both you and your betrothed are missing? It is my hope that Antonin has just given in to sentimentality and his tender feelings for you and your desire to see your baggage. Do not worry, dearest, I will be sure to rid you of the unwanted burdens that continue to infuriate me. Had you not left my care, I would have been sure to ask you what you would have wished for a bridal gift. As it was, I had to make do. I'll be sure to send you a gift every day you are away. I would hate to think that you weren't aware of how much I think of you.

Your devoted cousin,

Lord Voldemort

Hermione looked up at Sigurd in horror, the small ear cradled gently in her fist. Sigurd took the parchment out of her hands and growled, as he finished reading. The fire in his eyes, burned bright with promise as they walked back to the Manor to brief the others about the newest, macabre, development.

**HGHG**

Bellatrix drew the last rune with blood before sitting back on her haunches and looked around. The empty living room of the Granger's old house was dark and musky from years of abandonment. She could see where pictures had hung over the wallpaper and the chipped brick of the fireplace in front of her.

It made her heart painfully squeeze, the thought that all of the Grangers things were gone, probably sitting in storage somewhere in Australia. The only thing she had found was a single picture of Richard, Eliza, and Hermione under one of the floorboards in Hermione's old bedroom. It was probably the last picture taken of the three of them.

She looked back down at the runic circle and blew out a breath of hot air. She fingered the material of the dress that she searched and searched for. It had been very difficult to find the exact clothes worn by Eliza in the picture. Bellatrix's heart beat fast with anticipation. It wouldn't be long now until she accomplished what she meant to. She owed this to Hermione. Even if she hadn't been the one to torture her, Bellatrix would have wanted to do this for her. Hermione has become her entire world.

A small cauldron with silver steam rising from it sat in front of her, awaiting only the last ingredient. Her blood. The runes around her glowed as she emptied the small vial of blood into the cauldron. Spirals of silver steam floated lazily, higher and higher until they faded near the ceiling.

The very air around her quaked and time stopped as a bright light enveloped the mad woman still on her knees. The whole neighborhood began to shake as the light grew brighter and brighter, the pressure of the air restrictive. Bellatrix began to laugh in a voice that had little familiarity to her own. She finally had her entire future ahead of her and no one would ever treat her as if she were less than human ever again. She would finally have the life she always dreamed of.

**HGHG**

Draco and Abraxas stood in front of the sealed entrance to Sigurd's chamber in the observation room. They had tried every spell they knew, trying to force it open. They even asked the elves for help to undo the damage that Hermione had caused but to no avail.

"It's not like we actually need the wealth in that chamber," Draco said, leaning against the stone wall in exhaustion.

"We should be studying that encasement. But do you really want some ancestor to someday stumble upon the room filled with paintings of Hermione? Some are very nice, yes, but what about the nude ones? Do you think she would appreciate it if her grandchildren saw her in the nude?"

"I think they would appreciate the art. Hermione is the one who created this situation. I have no idea why you are so die hard about getting inside."

"Hermione was afraid. She can't control these new powers. This isn't her fault."

"So, this is a mission to show her that you would do anything for her? Haven't you already proved that?"

"I'm not here to prove anything," Abraxas muttered, glaring at the door. He shrugged out of his robes and set them on the stone pedestal in the center of the room, before unbuttoning his cuffs, and rolling them up to bare his forearms. Turning back to the door, he raised his wand and began chanting. If that door could be opened by force of will alone, it would have opened hours ago.

"If you want to kill yourself trying to get into that room, fine, but I am done," Draco said, pushing his blond hair out of his eyes. He flicked his wand at the observation room door, opening it with a bit too much oomph and met the startled eyes of his bride to be and his Viking relative.

"Draco," Hermione said with soft eyes and a pleased sigh. All of a sudden, his trousers were much too tight as images of her tight body and eager mouth plowed to the forefront. When she looked at him like that, he was lost. He wanted her right then, despite the witnesses, maybe not entirely because of them.

"Granger," He tried to come off as nonchalant but knew immediately he wasn't fooling anyone. Sigurd's blond brow raised in knowing questioning, a hint of a smirk tugged the corner of his lips. Bastard.

Hermione walked into the room and slid her arms around his waist, holding him tightly as if she were afraid it would be the last time.

"What's wrong, Love?" Abraxas said as he ran his hand over her hair.

"A Lord Voldemort sent her a letter and a 'gift'," Sigurd told them, disdain dripping from his tongue in poison waves.

"A gift?" Abraxas murmured warily.

"An ear. A child's ear." Hermione whispered against Draco's neck. The vein that she pressed against bulged. Clearly, he was clenching his teeth.

"Let me see it," Abraxas demanded, wand already in hand.

Hermione peeled away from Draco, dropping the bloody ear in Abraxas' hands. The moment the ear was no longer in her possession, Hermione was right back in Draco's arms, pressing her face into his neck.

Abraxas waved his wand, checking for any residue of dark magic and sighed in relief of not finding any. That probably meant that whoever the unlucky soul who had their ear cut off was able to grow it back with the right potion. Tom Riddle was many things but a fool was not one of them. He had to know that any lasting harm would only work against his agenda of bringing Hermione over to the dark side. Not that there was a chance in hell that it would actually work. She was made of sterner stuff than that.

"It was a clean severing charm. Whoever the victim was, can probably regrow their ear."

"Thank Merlin," Hermione murmured.

With a flick of his wand, Abraxas banished the 'gift' to Merlin only knew where. He took her hand in his and uncurled her fingers from their clenched fists, cleaning off the dried blood.

Draco held her, steering her out of the observation room and began murmuring soothing words in her ear. Abraxas smiled at the pair, his heart clenching with affection for them. Startled, he realized that he wasn't jealous and wondered why? It couldn't have been because they had seen each other in an intimate situation, could it?

He wondered how he would feel if she were in Lucius's or Sigurd's arms. Would he still be jealous as hell? Not wanting to tempt fate, he tore his eyes and thoughts from the woman who had stolen his very soul. Stolen was too harsh. He had practically gift wrapped his heart, soul, and body for her. He smiled slightly before remembering what drove her to seek such comfort. His upper lip curled in disgust. A child's ear.

Once tea was set in front of them in the sitting room, Hermione finally untangled from Draco. She held her cup cradled in her hand, listening as her men filled Bill and Luna in on the new developments. When the group first entered the empty sitting room, none of them expected it to be so. For the last few days, Bill and Luna had stayed there except for sleeping, dining, and the loo but Sigurd had quickly found them in the garden. Luna had been talking to the flowers that flourished in the spring beds. Bill had been watching, sitting on the grass, a bemused expression on his face.

"We can't let him continue to hurt the children," Sigurd said. His quiet fury causing the air to tremble around him. Abraxas nodded in agreement, sipping his tea.

"Then it's time for war," Lucius Malfoy announced from the doorway, leaning heavily against Severus with Narcissa trailing behind. "The potion is complete and once it has cured, Narcissa will be free. The time is now. He will not be expecting us to storm the venerable gates of Hogwarts."

"How long until the potion is ready?" Abraxas asked, his whole body was tense and ready to jump into action.

"Nine in the morning," Severus said as he helped Lucius into one of the vacant chairs.

"We have today to plan for the Last Battle." Hermione murmured, determination sharpening her gaze. This was the battle she had been preparing for her entire life, and she hoped with every fiber of her being that everyone she loved would come home safe.

**HGHG**

Harry sat on Teddy's mattress making the little boy's dragon fly around the vault. He couldn't help but think how dreary a place it was for a child and despaired that children like Teddy would be forced inside their whole childhood. He knew what it was like to grow up in conditions that left much to be desired and felt helpless in the ongoing war. With Ron and Hermione at his side, he always felt like they were inching towards the end. Destroying Horcruxes, hunting for them, always thinking up new theories made him feel useful. It had always been his fight after all. It was always meant to be him standing opposite Tom Riddle.

Now, he felt like a balloon released to the winds- floating among the clouds, untethered. It was not a feeling he relished. Not actively working for the end of this war made him feel jumpy and he knew that as much as he loved spending time with Teddy and Sirius, he would have to go back to the Manor. That was where the epicenter of the fight had moved and it didn't escape his notice that Hermione was in the center of it all. He was proud of her and afraid that she was destined to meet her end just because he had befriended her once upon a time.

Sirius sighed as he sat down next to Teddy, handing the toddler a baggie of cheerios. Teddy took them with a giggle of delight and dug his little fist into the bounty, trying to stuff them all in his mouth in one go. Sirius patiently pulled the cereal filled fist away from Teddy's mouth, popping one or two in before he could cry.

"Cissy just sent her Patronus. Lucius came through with that ingredient and Malfoy Manor is gearing up for battle in the morning. Every person old enough to understand what is happening is readying themselves. Only a few of the elderly or weaker fighters will stay in the vaults with the children."

"I heard," Harry replied.

"Are you going to go?"

"Of course. Hermione will be there. Are you?"

"Who will be with Teddy if something happens to me? If you leave, I have to stay."

Harry stared at him a bit longer than deemed polite and Sirius coughed and turned his face away.

"Don't look at me like that. It only took me losing almost everyone I have ever loved in my life and even knowing that, staying behind is killing me. I owe it to Remus to protect his son first. Had I done that with you, all those years ago, you would have never been forced to suffer at the Dursley's hands or nearly died in the Ministry, right in front of your eyes… I still remember the absolute devastation on your face."

"I don't blame you! I'm happy you are alive!"

"Exactly. You must fight, everyone must fight but what will become of our Teddy then?"

"The Order would care for him. We still have allies in this war, friends. The resistance has an encampment and it is moved and hidden and changed frequently but with one of these," Harry dug into his pocket and pulled out a small coin. "I can always find my way to them. Not everyone at the encampment is a fighter. There are elderly, infirm, and children. There are those that can't fight for many reasons. They will keep him safe. As safe as if he were their own son. We need everyone willing and able to fight."

"Fine. Let's go to the resistance but I'm warning you, If I don't find anyone I am willing to leave Teddy with, I'm not going."

"Fair enough," Harry watched Sirius pick up Teddy and gather the little boy's things with a bitter sweet smile. That should be him caring for Teddy. After all, he was the godfather. It was good that Teddy had Sirius. Harry would need to be in the front and center of the fighting and Teddy deserved to have someone that had a better chance of coming home. Once everything was gathered, Sirius put his hand on Harry's arm, disappearing to the Order.

They landed with a crack just outside of the woods that surrounded the encampment and watched in amazement as the camp was a flurry of activity. It seems that they were not the only ones that received a heads up on the movements of the Malfoys.

Harry walked into the chaos and Sirius holding Teddy stayed close behind. They weaved around people and tents, some in the process of breaking them down. Searching the masses for Neville turned out to be much more difficult than he once believed but knew that wherever Neville was, was the epicenter of this madness. There was no way that the Order wasn't collaborating with Hermione, that they weren't making battle plans.

In the dead center of camp, they finally found it- command. Walking right through the entrance with little more than nods from the guards placed there, Harry was never happier than at this very moment when he realized the leader was now none other than his fierce head of house. Minerva McGonagall stood like a general, directing battalions, in plans to siege Hogwarts. But what stopped him cold was the sight of a woman he had loved for so long, a woman he thought dead.

"Ginny," He whispered her name like a prayer.

"Harry?" She said equally as breathlessly and stood, a smile spreading over her face. "Harry!" She ran across the room and threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest and pressing her bulging stomach into his.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. For him, this pregnancy changed nothing. He loved her. And if she was happy with another man; he was happy for her. If this was forced on her' he would become an avenging angel delivering karmic justice. If there was some bloody miracle that nothing had changed for her either and she still loved him and wanted him, he would praise every deity that he had ever heard of.

"What happened?" he whispered to her bringing a single hand to caress her belly.

"Voldemort's breeding program."

"Oh Merlin," He choked pulling her even closer if that was even possible. "I'm so sorry, Ginny. I'm sorry this happened to you."

She sobbed into his shirt and clung to him for dear life.

"You're not going into battle tomorrow, are you?" He asked horrified as the thought ran through his head.

"No," She said bitterly. "McGonagall won't allow it. I'm being forced to stay here. She called me a liability."

"If you are here safe, there is no one I trust more to care for Teddy. And your child deserves a fair chance at life. You wouldn't want to endanger an innocent child."

"This is a rape baby, Harry." Her lips twisted with revulsion and hate.

"But it is yours. Your blood runs through its veins and for that alone, it will be loved." Harry looked over her head and caught the approving nod of his former Transfiguration teacher. There was no doubt or hesitation in his mind. He was going to end this war and then he was going to marry this woman if she would have him.

McGonagall flicked her wrist and two new chairs appeared next to Neville. Sirius and Harry took them, their loved ones in their lap. Neville threw them a head nod and a smirk. Already the feeling of triumph was spreading through the camp as news of Harry Potters arrival was passed from person to person.

**HGHG**

Bill and Luna had gone to bed ages ago and Hermione was longingly thinking about sleep too. The war council comprising of her Malfoys and herself had wound down until Abraxas and Lucius stood by the fireplace sipping glasses of Fire whiskey, talking about the different ways they planned on destroying Tom Riddle. Draco was off to the camp of the Order to rally the troops and Sigurd had gone missing over an hour ago. Although, when she brought up his lengthy absence to Lucius, he didn't seem worried- not in the least.

Hermione was still at the table brought in to hold all of the plans and blueprints. Her head was laying on her arms and her stomach was churning. What if one of them died? It hadn't been long since she resurrected them but they already felt a part of her. She wasn't sure what she would do if she lost any of them. Another thing to consider was Hermione's potential death. If she died, the Malfoys minus Sigurd would follow.

"Come on, Love. I'll take you to bed," Lucius murmured silkily in her ear. She opened her eyes that had closed without her realizing and blinked until he came into focus. Until that very moment, she hadn't realized how tired she actually was.

Wrapping his arms around her back, he pulled her to her feet and easily swept her off of her feet and into his arms. She was too tired to argue and just pressed her nose against his spicy robes that drew her ever since that first time he carried her two years ago. If she had to choose a smell that meant safety, she would choose this. Every single time. No one made her feel safe and cherished and wanted like Lucius did.

Letting her arms snake around his neck, Hermione pulled her face into the muscles of his shoulders, dropping kisses in between blissfully drowning in his scent.

"I missed you," Hermione muttered between kisses, reveling in the slight shiver of his body as her breath ghosted over his skin.

"I miss you too, Sweetheart. You will never know how much," Lucius' arms tightened around her as he ascended the first staircase. Pressed against his body as she was, she purred her appreciation for his cut figure. Fingers danced on the nape of his neck, playing with the fine blond hair. The further into the Manor he carried her, the more tense he became- the bolder Hermione's fingers became.

Reaching the door to her room was met with a whispered prayer, quietly pouring from Lucius' lips. Hermione hid her smile. She wanted him to want her just as much as she wanted him. He kicked the door closed unnecessarily hard once they were inside the door. The moment her feet hit the floor, all thoughts of sleep were gone. Chased away by questing fingers and greedy lips.

Lucius attacked her lips with the ferociousness of a man starving and before she had gotten the buttons opened on his robes, she was already standing before him naked. He pulled back then, his hands running down the curve of her and his eyes- oh, his eyes! Pupils dilated and burning with lust, want, and need.

Hermione stepped backward toward the bed and took his hand, intending on leading the way.

"Stop," He murmured and pulled his hand from hers to undo the remaining buttons of his clothing. "I still feel the grime of travel. Shower with me?"

Heat flooded her stomach and his lips curved into a beatific smile. The effect he had on her with just a smile was nearly a crime. Hermione knew exactly what it felt like to be on the receiving end of the Malfoy charm and especially Lucius who could render her incomprehensible with a few words and that look. How could she ever deny him anything?

He was pulling her this time, leading her into the bathroom and started the water running. Steam started coating the mirrors and made her hair frizz to epic proportions in seconds. As he continued to adjust the shower, she studied his naked form. He was all hard lines and ropy muscles, not an ounce of fat on the man. His body was perfection and he was hers.

"Come," He said, stepping into the glass enclosure. Hermione snorted at the order and rolled her eyes, following him anyway. Would she normally follow such orders? No! Unless he said it like he anticipated her orgasm- just like that. She was helpless against his bare sensuality.

He ran his hands over her slick body, following the flow of the water and watched momentarily entrances as water dripped off the tips of her nipples. Licking his lips, he leaned down and sucked one of the rosy tips into his mouth. Masculine appreciation and feminine sighs filled the acoustically perfect room.

His large hands cradled her hips, making her feel small and womanly, wanted. Water flowed over them both in a soft patter of rain. It was nothing like taking a muggle shower. Although, she knew from experience that the pressure could be set according to the wishes of its user.

Lucius dragged her out of thoughts about the shower functions and kissed his way down her torso. Pushing her against the wall, he lifted her leg over his shoulder and swirled his tongue around her clit. She rested her head against the wall and thread her fingers in his wet hair. He licked her until she was a quivering mess.

"Lucius, Please!" She begged.

"Please what, my sweet?" he paused only long enough to tease her with questions when what she really wanted was his cock stroking her g spot.

"I need you inside me."

"As my lady commands," He murmured against her core, taking one last taste before lowering her leg and standing.

Turning her to face the wall, he nuzzled the nape of her neck and she felt the evidence of his arousal on her bum. She pushed against him, gasping. Her hands were on the tile wall, her bum pulled towards Lucius, and was slightly bent over with his fingers tracing her spine.

"Minx," he groaned as her arse wiggled against him. She felt the head of his cock spread her lips and tease her opening.

Rocking his hips into hers, he buried himself to the hilt. Stopping only long enough to appreciate the tight squeeze of Hermione's aroused body. He set a slow and maddening pace, obviously enjoying frustrating her. With one hand on his hips and the other cupping her breast, he brought her to new heights. She moaned as he rolled her nipple. The tug of an invisible line that seemed to be attached to her needy quim was expertly strummed by his talented hands.

This new angle sent her eyes rolling back in her head and an almost endless string of his name dripping from her mouth in a litany. She wanted more of this. This with him for the rest of their lives until he was too old to get it up and her breasts sagged against her stomach.

Thrusting into her faster, he gripped her hip in a near punishing grip and pushed her breasts onto the tile but neither of them seemed to notice. She was lost, feeling her climax build and build and build until she was at the precipice. And then she shattered, clenching him mercilessly as her orgasm tore through her.

His cock pulsed inside of her and he threw back his head, mouth open, with his long glorious hair dripping wet as he thrust faster. His breathing grew heavy as his thrusts became irregular, still swelling in her sensitive channel and setting off after shocks of pleasure racing up and down her body.

"Yessss," he gasped, spilling inside of her before thrusting slowly several more times. She could feel his seed, warm and sticky, already leaking out of her. The water raining on them started washing away the evidence of their lovemaking. "My Hermione, mine."

Hermione chuckled and he pulled her into his body, wrapping his arms around her waist. They got down to the serious business of washing and worshiping each other's bodies, and before long they were both running to the bed in anticipation of round two. Lips against lips and exploring hands continuing the memorization they both so desperately sought. Neither one voiced the fear in their hearts about what the next day would bring.

**HGHG**

Bellatrix watched the activity of Malfoy Manor from beyond the gates, knowing that something was about to happen. She could feel it in the air. It crackled like electricity and made her hair stand on end. There was only one thing that she knew with any sort of certainty. Where ever they were going, whatever they were doing- whether finishing the war or bringing another Malfoy back from beyond the grave- She would be there. Bellatrix would become whatever Hermione needed. Even if what she needed, killed her.

Chapter Text

17

Previously:

Bellatrix watched the activity of Malfoy Manor from beyond the gates, knowing that something was about to happen. She could feel it in the air. It crackled like electricity and made her hair stand on end. There was only one thing that she knew with any sort of certainty. Where ever they were going, whatever they were doing- whether finishing the war or bringing another Malfoy back from beyond the grave- She would be there. Bellatrix would become whatever Hermione needed. Even if what she needed, killed her.

**HGHG**

Hermione eased out from Lucius' embrace as quietly as possible, hoping not to wake him. She suspected that he had taken a potion to be able to be with her last night and now he was sleeping like the dead. Once she was out of his arms, she sat back and looked at the star-shaped wound in his shoulder. It was purple, green, and an ugly shade of brown around the healing skin. It had been knitted expertly, with a spell of Snape's own making, no doubt.

With a kiss to his temple, Hermione drew on a silken robe and padded through the hallways, heading for the kitchen and tea. The night was eerie in the Manor, its sentience and magic beckoning her to explore the hidden depths. After the war was over, if she was still alive, perhaps she would let the Manor lead her wherever it wanted to take her. But for now, she would have to decline and stay on course to the kitchen.

She pushed open the door and froze. Sigurd was leaning against the sink, bloody, with Emmy standing on the counter daubing at his face.

"What happened to you? Where did you go?" She asked, raising her wand and began muttering cleaning and healing charms that knitted the skin of his split lip. Gingerly, she poked the rapidly darkening bruise on his cheek and left eye. Deciding that that bruise would have to wait, she began running her hands over the hard planes of his body, starting with his shoulders. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"I will be fine, Elskede." He stood there, letting her touch him. Watching her worried gaze rake over his body.

"What happened?" she demanded with narrowed eyes and thinned lips. There was no way he was getting off so easily. Her hands ran over the ridges of his abdomen. She felt the muscles clench under her fingers and his quickly indrawn breath ghosted across her temple.

"I had to explain something to someone." Sigurd looked away and grabbed her hands, refusing to let her continue feeling his body. Hermione nearly growled. Evasive to the last.

"Really?" she deadpanned.

"Really," He confirmed with twitching lips. He was obviously not going to tell her what he had been up to.

"You aren't going to tell me, are you?" She asked seriously, her brow furrowing.

"No,"

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to know. Not yet."

"Will it make me angry?"

"Perhaps,"

"Is it about me?"

"No. Not this time."

"Okay," she said grudgingly and pulled her hands from his grasp. She recognized that she didn't have any right to demand him to tell her everything. She would have to trust that if it were serious and life-threatening that he would tell her when he could. It made her nervous though, not knowing exactly what was going on. Loose variables sunk ships. Or was that loose lips?

"Emmy, can you make us some tea and lay out a plate of those Victoria sandwiches?" Sigurd asked, his eyes bright with anticipation.

"Yes, Master." She squeaked happily. Delirious over the fact that she was needed.

"Victoria sandwiches in the middle of the night? Is this a habit of yours?"

"There was nothing like this when I was a boy. Everything is different. From the way everyone lives and eats, to the way magic is taught and used." He sat on a stool at the island and Hermione sat next to him, cradling her teacup as soon as it was set before her. She hadn't even thought about the culture shock he was probably experiencing and felt bad because everything he had done since he woke was for her.

"What can I do?" she asked him guiltily.

"There is nothing you can do. It will just take some time to acclimate. It's strange though, knowing that everyone I knew was long dead. I didn't think that would affect me so much."

They both sat in silence sipping on tea and Hermione watched Sigurd devour a whole plate of the strawberry and cream-filled sponge cakes.

"What was it like?" Hermione asked, looking at Sigurd from the corner of her eye.

"What was what like?" he wondered absently. He had licked the tip of his finger and was picking up all the crumbs off the plate before sucking them off his fingertip.

"Your life before you slept,"

"Normal, I guess. My mother was an amazing woman. She cooked well and made sure I was clean and well mannered. I played with all the other children in the village. We were little terrors, baiting the dogs and the grumpy old Viking with only one eye and one leg. I can't even count a number of times I was dragged home by my ear. When I grew older, almost a man, I started listening to my mother and realized her 'stories' were actually prophecies.

Some of them were about how harsh the winter would be or if we were going to lose someone from the community. But mostly they were about a girl and her two friends and their daring adventures in a magic school that would rival anything we could dream of. They would be constantly fighting for their lives. Once I became a man, I started dreaming of that girl. I saw her in every face, in every moment. I was always good at drawing and painting and soon enough I began sketching out the scenes I loved best.

Then one day I saw you and me and my lips and hands were on you, bringing you pleasure. Your face was perfection in ecstasy and it drove me mad knowing that it could never be me. After that, I couldn't see anyone else. I was in love with you and you weren't there. We were separated by a thousand years and a continent. And even if I somehow miraculously managed to defeat the time difference, how could you not already be taken by another man?

My village was bid by our king to invade Britain and knowing that was where you were destined to be, I joined the raiding party. If there was any way to be with you, I needed to start here. For years our band terrorized the natives. One particularly harsh winter found us trapped in Europe. Stuck in a foreign country with no food and the water of the river had frozen behind us. Germany was not a very hospitable place that year. One of the coldest in a hundred years, or so the Bards claimed. Several of the men died and that led our king to admit that we needed to seek refuge with the locals.

I'll never forget when we walked into the small Germanic town. Three-quarters of the population was dwarves and it was all ruled by the beautiful queen who had escaped persecution and death by sleeping in an enchanted glass coffin. That is when my plan began to form. I would build a legacy where my encasement would be safe as time passed.

When the thaw came, we left Germany and continued our onslaught on Britain. As cold as the winter was, the summer was hotter. Regardless of temperature, we wore our leather armor and pressed on, chipping away at the Anglo defenses. I would be lying if I told you I didn't know the moment I stepped on the land from my prophecies. It called to me.

I left the others at the shore and followed the leyline alone. That is when I was ambushed. Under normal circumstances, I would have retreated to my band of brothers to create a strategy but I knew that if I left that hill, I would lose it all. I was afraid that everything I had seen about you would crumble if I didn't hold that land. I was not born a Berserker but in that moment, I felt centuries of the Berserker rage pound through my veins. Losing that battle meant losing you. I would have rather died." Sigurd paused and pushed his teacup toward the tiny elf who had reappeared with more tea and cakes. He shot her a grateful smile and pulled them closer, moaning as he took another Victoria sponge.

"How old were you when you won the Malfoy properties?"

"Twenty-six."

"You didn't look that young in the memory."

"Blood and facial hair have a way of aging a man." He smirked at her and she snorted in amusement, pushing her cup forward to be refilled by a beaming Emmy.

"How old were you when you sealed the encasement?"

"Why? Do you think I am too old for you? I have news for you; Abraxas' is older than me if we are to set the measure by the age of our bodies. Besides I didn't hear any complaints earlier when you were touching me."

"I'm not complaining," She said blushing from the roots of her hair to her shoulders. "I was just curious."

Sigurd leaned in, forgetting the baked goods as he crowded her space. He cupped her face in his large calloused hand and brushed her bottom lip with his thumb.

"Tell me about your son," Hermione said, tearing her eyes from his. "and Tova."

Sigurd sat back, a thoughtful look on his face, and took another bite of cake. Once he swallowed, he turned back to look at Hermione and said, "Things were different back then. Women had power, yes, but they were still heavily reliant on their husbands once children came into the picture. It was easier for the women in our homeland. Those women were terrifying. There wasn't a warrior alive that would go against them. They took care of everything while the men were off pillaging for wealth and status. In foreign lands, our women were stolen, raped, and murdered. Anything that my brethren did to their women, they did to ours. We became extremely protective of our families as you can imagine. I don't blame the natives for fighting back. It is nothing less than what I would have done myself.

Tova was in love with someone else when I offered for her. And I knew. It suited me because I was in love with someone else too. If I married Tova with an understanding that I could never love her, we could both get what we wanted. She needed to marry and be free of her father. She was searching for an old man with kids so that she would be free to remarry after a few years when he died. I was more than an acceptable match. Even then, I was wealthy and powerful. Her father salivated at the prospect of the Malfoy gold.

At first, she was very resistant. She hadn't wanted to have children with her first husband but for me, it was a necessity. The promise was that she would provide me with a male heir and I would leave her to be free after he turned five. I never expected that she would grow to have feelings for me. She asked me not to leave her even though she could have married her sweetheart at the end. I hurt her but she knew from the beginning that I loved you and only you. I couldn't stay.

She was a wonderful mother to my son, Torvald. He was so smart and already on his way to becoming a powerful wizard. His bouts of accidental magic were impressive. He looked like one of the chubby cherubs from the Grecian frescos. Soft blond hair and grey eyes and always, always smiling. If I had stayed, it would have been for him. That is my one regret, that I wasn't a father to him in the ways that it mattered. But I know that Tova would love and protect him and make sure her new husband treated him well too."

"The Malfoys have records dating back to the beginning. I bet we can find out what happened to Tova and Torvald. When this is all over…" She trailed off and swallowed hard.

"I would like that," He cupped her face in his hands again and before she could ask him any more questions, he captured her lips. He was gentle and took his time tasting her lips, running his tongue along the seam, bidding her to open. Wanting to taste him just as bad, Hermione parted her lips and let her tongue dart into his mouth and moaned. He tasted like cake, cream, and berries. But underneath that was a taste she couldn't identify. It was all male and she wanted more.

"I want to marry you," He murmured against her lips before possessing them once more, cutting off any reply she might have given.

Hermione leaned back out of his grasp and said, "If I die tomorrow, I won't be marrying anyone and you will still be responsible to ensure the family line."

"I won't allow that to happen."

"You are not naive, you understand things about war that even we don't. Tomorrow is the final battle for better or worse and if my life is the price I have to pay to rid the world of Voldemort, that is exactly what I will do."

"If you sacrifice yourself, understand that you sacrifice Abraxas, Lucius, and Draco too. Don't you want them to live?" Sigurd asked.

"Of course, I do!" She said unhappily, "But they were dead. I brought them back. I have given them time that they otherwise wouldn't have had. If there was a way for them to live on after my death, I would ensure it. Defeating Voldemort is too important for anyone to be selfish now. Together in life, together in death."

Sigurd nodded in understanding. He too had fought for something that he would rather have died for than give up. But there was no way he would allow her to die. After all, he had ensured it earlier with the help of Hecate and the name she had given him. He would sacrifice anything else. Anything but Hermione.

He stood and slid his hands into her curly hair and brought her mouth back to his, bringing her to her feet as well.

"If we live through tomorrow, I will ask again. And until you say yes, I will do everything in my power to show you that I am wholly devoted to you and you alone. I've loved and waited for you for a thousand years, what difference will another day make?" He whispered and she melted into him. For a war-hardened Viking, he had a sweet way with words.

**HGHG**

Draco ran his hand over his face, tired as hell, but determined. The command tent was already full when he arrived and he didn't miss his chance to glare at Potter, The-Boy-Who-Was-Never-Around-When-You-Need-Him. He nodded politely at Ginny and Neville and did a funny little half bow to McGonagall who was giving her best and most terrifying 'you've earned detention with Filch' look. It took everything in him not to shudder.

With a flick of his wand, the battle plans that Lucius and Abraxas made materialized as a three-dimensional model. Each legion was marked with position, names, and was given a rank based on how effective and powerful they would be.

"We start at nine am." He said, his eyes refusing to waver from hers.

"Why nine? The middle of the night would be better,"

"We have our reasons,"

"Does it have to do with Narcissa?" Harry asked, following the argument as if it were a ping-pong match.

"Yes,"

"Then we wait," Harry said, steel entering his voice.

"Let me remind you, Mr. Potter, who is in charge here," McGonagall said. "I have long time experience under Albus Dumbledore himself."

"Not like I did, Professor. I had a crash course of war tactics with Tom as my enemy my whole life. We will not win this war without the Malfoys and they will not move until nine am. This is our best and final chance to destroy him. We can't screw it up now."

McGonagall stared at him for a prolonged moment and capitulated with a curt nod. "Very well, Mr. Potter. If you insist that we must wait for the Malfoys to move, that is exactly what we will do."

Ginny stood and stretched before giving Harry a peck on the cheek. She held her arms out for Teddy.

"Do you think you can manage his weight?" Sirius asked doubtfully, eyeing her pregnant belly.

"It will be fine," She said softly and stooped, picking up the sleeping toddler. "Mothers hold and carry their older children while pregnant all the time, Sirius."

Never the less, Sirius didn't take his eyes off them until she had carried the boy out of the tent and out of his sight.

"He will be safe with her," Harry said.

"I know but I worry."

"I know,"

"At this rate Potter, you will be clueless as always and fuck the whole thing up," Draco drawled. "If you get Hermione or any of my family killed through your inattention, I will personally kill you."

"If you recall, it was always us saving your arses, this time will be no different," Harry sniped back.

**HGHG**

Dolohov laid in agony. Days had passed since he had seen or heard anyone. He was half healed, laying in his own filth, blind, and deaf. Many of the nights, he spent sobbing. It would be a relief when Lucius came back to finish the job. He should have known that touching a woman claimed by the Malfoy family would end like this. They were always brutal in protecting what they perceived as theirs.

The only thing that had kept him sane through it all was the thought of her. Hermione. For two glorious days, she was his. When she slept he pulled her close into his body and wrapped a single group of curls around and around his finger, bringing the springy tresses to his nose; he inhaled her sweet scent. She was so dependent on him then and he had been in a constant state of arousal. He even missed the way she fought him tooth and nail over everything. Anything she could throw at him would be better than this purgatory.

Dolohov hated this room. It brought him to the brink of his endurance over and over and each time, he thought he was going to lose it. It liked extremes and it seemed to know what would bother him the most. In the beginning, he would desperately hope that certain scenarios would be avoided. It was only hours later that he realized the room was siphoning off his fears and enacting every single one of them. Since then, he only thought about Hermione. The room seemed to encourage this, and the more he thought about her, the more it left him alone.

He flinched as the bands holding him to the table released him and he dared not move. Knowing that this could be the thing that finally, truly broke him. If he sat up and the bindings wrapped around him, to believe he was free only for the room to change its mind would kill him. After several moments of nothing, he sat up, not hoping, not wondering, not pleading. When nothing happened, he swung his legs over the side and winced at the tight scar tissue from the cauterizations on his back and rolled his shoulders. His feet touched the floor and after days of lying prone and enduring unimaginable horrors, he felt as if for the first time he was allowed to hope that maybe, just maybe, he would make it out of this hell hole alive.

At his fingertips that were gripping the edge of the table, a stack of clothing appeared with a small folded paper on top. With shaking fingers, he took it. Holding it up to his face, he noticed it was her scent and inhaled her familiar smell and a pang of longing shot through him. Oh! How he wanted her.

The light brightened as he unfolded the paper and in an unfamiliar script, it read;

My Dearest,

Not a day has gone by that you were not on my mind. It was you in my heart, always you, My Love and nothing could change that. We face war today and if I die, I die knowing how well you have loved me despite our separation. My only goal is to see the utter destruction of your master and if I must die to ensure it, so be it. You will never be allowed to leave the Malfoy dungeon and I despair because I know it will eventually kill you if you do not find a way out. At least I can go to my death and imagine that you are still alive. Perhaps you will be released if all the Malfoys die today in battle. Remember the best of me, of us, after I am gone.

With all my Love,

Hermione

Bile rose in his throat at the thought of Hermione entering into battle against the Dark Lord and became frantic. She loved him! He had to save her. She would not die today, not if he had any say in the matter. He dressed in the clothes provided for him and stumbled his way through the dark, desperate to leave the chamber so that he could get to Hermione in time to save her.

Once he found the door, it slid open easily as if this whole time all he had to do was touch the cool obsidian to leave. He didn't notice the shadow next to the door standing so still, only observing the desperate prisoner. As soon as the door slid closed behind Dolohov, Abraxas stepped out of the shadows and into the light, an unfathomable look on his face.

"Of all the torture, I've seen in this room, of all the men I watched break, I have never seen anything as cruel as what this room has done these last few days. First Bellatrix and now Dolohov." Abraxas muttered. "What's wrong with normal torture? Why can't you break them with that? Why give him hope of a love from a woman that will never come to pass? I know Hermione didn't actually write that letter. Once he realizes that he does not have her tender regards, he will spiral irrevocably into insanity. I don't know what was worse, what this room did to Bella or to Dolohov. Either way, I am glad my enemies don't have a room such as this. I shudder to think what would be awaiting me here." As he turned to leave, a piece of paper caught his eye next to the door. It was a letter, the letter that the room had given Dolohov.

The chamber was eerily quiet despite having thousands of occupants but that was the specialty of the room. It did precisely what it needed to do to break each and every prisoner. No more, no less. And that is what made it all the more terrifying. This room was the stuff nightmares were made of.

**HGHG**

Draco was even more tired after sitting in a war meeting with Potter all night. He trudged up the front steps into the Manor and leaned against the wall and closed his eyes for just a moment. All he had to do was make it up the stairs to his room where he could sleep for the next five hours. Five blissful hours. The longer he stood against the wall, the less time he would be able to spend sleeping but he just couldn't find the strength to open his leaden eyelids. Just a moment more…

"Draco?" Hermione asked softly.

"What are you doing up, Granger?" he murmured, his eyes still closed.

"I couldn't sleep." She slipped her arm around his waist and began to move with him. "Where do you want to go?"

"Your room."

"Lucius is in there sleeping."

"So?"

"I was just letting you know."

"Do you really think that it matters to me now? As long as you stay between us, preferably naked, I don't care."

"Alright," She said with a slight amusement.

"Oh, before I forget, McGonagall sent you something last time and I forgot about it. Reach into my robes and pull it out. It's a little ring box."

"What is it?"

"I don't know. I didn't look."

"Weren't you curious? I would have looked if she had given it to me for you."

"I had other things on my mind,"

"Like what?"

"Like your wet quim waiting for me or my tongue sliding over your body. Take your pick."

Hermione blushed furiously and helped him up the stairs and down the hall. She used her foot to open the door to her room.

"I love when you blush like this, Granger. You have no idea what it does to me," he whispered in her ear. They circled the bed so that Draco would be on the opposite side of his father. Hermione pushed him down so that he was sitting and got on her knees to reach for his boots. He was watching her through bloodshot eyes. "Merlin the sight of you on your knees," he groaned.

Hermione smirked at him and let her robe fall off her shoulder as she reached for his first boot and tugged it off. She had heard his sharp intake of breath, enjoying the feeling of sexual power that rushed through her. Keeping focus but fully aware that she was being watched, she tugged off the other boot and set it aside with its mate. Next, she rolled his socks off him and caressed the skin on his leg. Sitting up on her knees, she moved between his legs and reached up unbuttoning his robes.

"If only I wasn't so damn tired," He growled.

"If we live through today," She muttered, meeting his eyes with a soft smile. "we will have the rest of our lives to explore each other."

"I like the sound of that," his eyes slid closed and Hermione could tell that he was fighting sleep. After that, she quickly stripped him of his remaining clothes, knowing that he, like the other Malfoy men, enjoyed sleeping in the nude and pressed him back into the bed. Hermione let her robe fall to the floor and made to get in the bed.

"Don't forget that box from McGonagall. I'm pretty sure she would kill me herself if I don't give it to you." He whispered.

Hermione bent down and rummaged in his robes and found the small velvet ring box and cringed as the hinges groaned when it was opened. For a minute, she stared confused at the contents. She fingered a thin gold chain, so finely wrought that it must have been goblin-made. As she lifted the piece to eye level, she looked at the gem that hung from it. A cushion-cut ruby the size of her thumbnail. A small tightly folded note fluttered to the floor and Hermione bent to retrieve it.

Hermione,

Long ago this was given into my possession by Albus Dumbledore. He was a man who tried to do the right thing for everyone. He was an amazing wizard but he was not omnipotent. It haunted him, the choices he had to make in order for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to be defeated. With that said, there were a few things that he did, that he was incredibly proud of. One of them was ensuring that Harry would live past childhood, another was taking Severus Snape under his wing, but the one most important right now is this.

This ruby is a portkey to a safehouse that only I know about and soon you will know it too. It holds three people and it has for many, many years. The portkey will both take you and bring you back to where it took you from. The people in this safe house will not hurt you, in fact, they would be overjoyed to see you. If we live through this war, please take Potter with you.

Remember dear girl, you are loved.

Minerva

P.s. To activate the ruby, say the magic word.

Hermione's heart pumped frantically and she was torn with indecision. Should she stay and sleep like her body so desperately needed? Or should she find out who was in the safe house?

Hermione put the necklace around her neck and climbed over Draco's naked body, settling between her men. It took a solid half hour for the adrenalin to leave her body enough so that she could sleep. Draco, obviously drawn by her warmth, rolled into her and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against his body. All the movement must have disturbed Lucius, because he snapped at them to stop moving and rolled into Hermione's other side, pressing his face into her hair. He rested his large warm hand on her thigh and lightly caressed her as they both fell back asleep.

**HGHG**

Morning came for the three of them as Abraxas strode into the room and threw open the curtains. Hermione glared at him blearily.

"What time is it?" She grumbled.

"Seven. I've let the three of you sleep in but now we need to get ready for war. I can't believe how irresponsible the three of you were to stay up all night fucking!" Abraxas growled, annoyed as hell.

"That's not what happened," Hermione viciously hissed. She, irresponsible? Never. "Lucius was injured and he is still healing. I suspect he took a pepper up potion or two yesterday. Draco, if you would remember had to go meet with the resistance to be sure of coordination and continued alliance for reinforcements. I couldn't sleep and it's lucky I went to the kitchen for tea or we would have found Draco passed out in the foyer. It was me who got him into bed. After that, we slept. What crawled up your arse this morning?"

"This," he hissed, throwing a rolled scroll onto the bed and holding up another bloody ear from a child.

"What does it say?" she asked, all irritation evaporating instantly.

"He is going to send you two gifts today. Apparently, he is taking inspiration from the muggle song Twelve Days of Christmas."

"Oh my god," she choked. It was a song about a man who sent gifts during the twelve days of Christmas to his true love. Every day would build upon the previous with the idea that his true love would end up with a veritable army of gifts. Did that mean that he intended on sending a child's ear every day for twelve days? She thought she was going to be sick.

"Exactly," Abraxas said and he sat on the bed next to Lucius. "Let me see that wound. You may have to sit the battle out if you are seriously wounded."

"If Hermione is going, I'm going," Lucius said in a sleep-roughened voice but laid on his back anyway so that Abraxas could examine him.

"Severus did a fine job healing this wound," Abraxas gently prodded the star-shaped scar. The bruising was still prominent in a wide array of colors but the wound itself had settled into a thin silver starburst.

"Of course, he did! Give me the pepper up potion in the bathroom cabinet and let me get ready for the day." Lucius sneered. It was clear that Lucius, like Hermione, was not the most cheerful of morning people, especially when awoken in such an abrupt manner.

Abraxas strode into the bathroom, grabbed the potion, and was handing it over within moments. With irritated grace, he said, "I will be in the breakfast room awaiting your presence."

**HGHG**

Severus walked into the breakfast room and nodded at Hermione, the Malfoys, Narcissa, and the Azkaban escapees. Although the last was accompanied with an eye roll, it was more civil than any of them expected.

He placed the small purple potion in front of Narcissa and pulled out the chair next to her, sitting with bored grace. The whole table was watching her now as she uncorked the vial. She was shaking but Severus put his hand over hers to keep her steady and she brought it to her lips.

"Will it hurt?" she asked curiously, the vial resting against her lips.

"No,"

"But?"

"But I can't be sure,"

Narcissa nodded and drank the potion. She gasped and her hand flew to her chest. Panting, Narcissa looked up at Severus and said, "I can breathe again,"

"It is time," Abraxas pushed his chair back and laid his napkin over his plate. There was a flurry of activity as everyone stood. Every face was tense as they filed out of the room and onto the grounds. "Once all the Malfoys leave the Manor, it will not have the same strong protections. By leaving, we are allowing the possibility of it being destroyed permanently. Are you ready? To Hogwarts,"

With a series of pops, the group was gone, leaving behind a gleeful Bellatrix at the gates. With a twist, she was gone, following the others to their shouted destination. It was what she had been waiting for, she now knew where they were going. Where Hermione went, so would Bellatrix.

**HGHG**

The gates of Hogwarts loomed before them, impressive as any fortress should be. Voldemort stood inside, leading an impressive Death Eater army despite half of it being incarcerated in Malfoy Manor. Hermione stared in shock at the man standing to his right, Antonin Dolohov.

Dolohov smiled at her tenderly and Hermione was confused. Wasn't he supposed to be locked in the impenetrable, unescapable Malfoy torture chamber? What was going on?

"I see you received my gifts," Voldemort said.

"Gifts," Hermione spat. "What poor child did you mutilate?"

"It's of no importance, the lad was able to grow his ears back. Surely Abraxas was able to tell you that much."

Hermione glared at him. "Open the gates," She ordered.

"On one condition,"

"What could that possibly be?"

"You must come alone and marry Antonin here before everyone present."

"No."

"Alright," He said affably, almost jovially. "I believe another gift is in order." With a flick of his wrist, a small first year was pulled through the crowd. A nonverbal Accio.

Hermione watched in horror as Antonin held the boy and Voldemort took his hands and spread the fingers wide on his wand hand.

"This time we will use dark magic to cut off each finger, one by one, won't we Mr. Bell?" Voldemort smiled and lifted his wand, setting the tip in the webbing between his thumb and forefinger.

"Wait," Hermione said.

"You are not giving in to his demands," Lucius growled in her ear and Draco thread his fingers with hers as if to hold her in place.

"We need to get inside. What can we do from out here? I know the resistance is attacking the wards as we speak but Hogwarts has held for thousands of years against all manner of threats. We need this." She whispered to him. The stubborn jut of his chin told her that he didn't agree.

"I have an idea," Sigurd murmured. Hermione raised her eyebrows. "We have polyjuice, do we not?"

"I think he will notice if someone walks past me looking like me to walk through the gate."

"He wants you to wed. Do brides not wear special dresses on that day? It would give you a chance to change places with someone else. We can send in someone we trust."

"Tom knows that is not something I would do in this situation. I wouldn't care about dresses."

"But perhaps there is something we can do," Abraxas said as he pressed paper into her hand.

Hermione looked at the folded note and opened it. As she read it, her eyes grew wide.

"I didn't write this," She said and Sigurd stepped in front of her so that her reaction and their conversation would remain private.

"I know," Abraxas said. "The chamber did. It gave this to Dolohov before letting him leave. I was surprised to find this on the floor, left behind. Perhaps it was not meant to be left. But that doesn't matter. All that matters is that he believes this to be true. And that is how we will get in."

"How are you going to get in once I'm in if I'm busy getting married to another man?"

"Not everything requires magic. Sometimes it just takes muscle and will, Elskede." Sigurd murmured. Hermione looked at him properly for the first time all day. He had his leather armor on, his sword over his shoulder, a whip on his hip, and his long blond hair braided back away from his face. If anyone could muscle their way into Hogwarts, it would be Sigurd.

Chapter Text

18

Previously:

"Not everything requires magic. Sometimes it just takes muscle and will, Elskede." Sigurd murmured. Hermione looked at him properly for the first time all day. He had his leather armor on, his sword over his shoulder, a whip curled on his hip, and his long blond hair braided back away from his face. If anyone could muscle their way into Hogwarts, it would be Sigurd.

**HGHG**

"Tick Tock, Cousin," Voldemort called. Hermione gritted her teeth and nodded, giving Draco's hand a final squeeze.

"Come for me," She whispered. Louder, she addressed Voldemort. "I will come but I have two conditions. I want to talk to Dolohov first and I want the boy released to my people."

"Hermione," Abraxas whispered in warning. "we may not be able to get to you in time if you do this."

"That is why I need to talk to Dolohov. You said that he believes this note was written by me. If that is so, I will use it. I will do what I must!" She whispered back, feeling sick at the thought of using anyone and their feelings. Draco's hand slipped out of hers, holding on until the very last second. Staring across the divide, she threw her shoulders back and walked to the gate where Voldemort met her to let her through.

"Very well," Voldemort hissed.

There was a moment where silence reigned over both sides as they watched Hermione cross over into enemy territory. Each step she took was another away from safety, her family. And she couldn't turn back to watch them in fear that she wouldn't be able to go through with it. If that boy was to keep his fingers, she had to act quickly, there was no other option. Had he been her brother, she would have moved Heaven and Earth to get him back. As it was, Katie Bell, his older sister was in one of the fighter wings, helping them to bring down the wards around Hogwarts. She couldn't let her allies down.

Hermione felt the wards shimmer around her as she moved through them. It felt like she was walking through a wall of water but never actually getting wet. It was cold and made her gasp but two steps later, she was inside the gates and past the wards. The gates rattled behind her as they slammed closed, Voldemort's smile widening with each step forward she took.

He threw his arms wide and welcomed her into his embrace. An embrace that she refused to return as his arms snaked around her shoulders.

"Excellent," He hissed, pulling her into his gaunt frame. Hermione held back a shudder by sheer force of will and grimaced into the black robes surrounding her.

"The boy," Hermione demanded, standing as stiff as a board.

Voldemort pulled back and studied her, letting the victorious smile transform his skeletal and snake-like face.

"Of course,"

Dolohov released the boy and pushed him through the gate where Abraxas met him, taking him into his comforting embrace. Abraxas must have said something to Dolohov, because the dark man froze, fear overtaking his features.

"Everything alright, Dolohov?" Voldemort asked, his hissing voice a threat in its self. Dolohov seemed to come back to himself and shook off whatever it was that Abraxas had told him. He turned around and inclined his head.

"I'm fine," he said, a frown in his voice.

Hermione tensely waited in silence. Voldemort had his hands on her shoulders and Dolohov stood right next to her, a looming and intimidating presence.

"Hmm," Voldemort said, unamused.

"The agreement was that I would speak to Antonin, alone." Hermione reminded him rather saucily, overcompensating for the fear that raced through her veins. Voldemort's top lip curled in agitation, red eyes flashing with violence and barely contained patience. He may have agreed to the terms, but he didn't need her reminding him. Hermione nearly laughed hysterically at what thoughts she imagined were running through his head.

Releasing her, Voldemort moved away, keeping both of them in his line of sight. Hermione took a deep breath and faced Dolohov, moving so close that there was barely an inch between them.

"Antonin, why did you return to him? I can never be on his side. Don't you understand that? Not only that but what type of marriage could we possibly have if it starts out this way. Wouldn't you rather I choose you?"

"You and I both know, Hermione, that if he doesn't force you to marry me now, you will never go through with it. Do you think I am a stupid man? Did you think I didn't know it was the room manipulating me when it freed me? I'll admit for a solid hour I was convinced it was you who wrote that letter but once reason returned, I knew you would have never written that note. Even if you did feel that way. I would like to believe that I know you better than that. So, knowing now that I don't believe the letter, what do you want from me?"

"If I marry you, he will do the same thing to me that he did to Narcissa," She began but he cut her off before she could continue.

"No, you are his kin. He may tether you to him but he assures me that even tethered, you will be strong and your own person. He would never do to you what he did to her. She was nothing to him, an experiment, a traitor, nothing more. You are precious to us both. Would marrying me be so bad?"

"Marrying you would be against my will. What do you think?"

"You would learn to love me the way that I love you."

"No, Antonin, I would only resent and hate you for it."

"But I would have you just the same."

"You would only ever have the shell of me."

"What do you want from me?"

"Help me take down your master and I will offer you amnesty with time served. Merlin knows what you had to endure in that chamber."

"Having some of you is better than not having a claim on any part of you."

"You will not help me, then?"

"No,"

Hermione looked pained as if she truly thought him capable of being a better man than he was. She should have known that men like him, men that willingly followed a deranged master like Voldemort, could never live up to her standard of morality. He took what he wanted by any means necessary, and at the moment, what he wanted was her.

"But," he continued as he watched the disappointment cloud her face, "I will let you stall for a little while. I don't think it will help you, you are already inside the wards of Hogwarts, but I can do that much. The only thing it will cost you is that you must talk to me."

"What do you want to talk about?" She asked warily, grudgingly accepting the extra time he offered.

"Why not me?"

Oh, God. Did he want to do this now?

"I have already committed myself to the Malfoy family."

"If they had stayed dead like normal people, would it have changed anything?"

Hermione took a moment to deliberate, nodded as if deciding something, and turned towards the gate. She took Dolohov by the arm and turned him too.

"Do you see the Malfoy with the long hair and the sword?"

"Yes, but I don't know who that is. I've never seen him before."

"You wouldn't have. He was in an enchanted sleep for a thousand years. Do you know why he did that?"

Dolohov shook his head.

"He is a prophet and has seen visions of me. Now, I don't hold much stock in such things but in the room where I found him, the walls were covered in drawings of me. Hundreds of pictures and paintings and sketches. He searched for a way to come to me, and he passed down knowledge of me through the generations. The Malfoy family has protected me over and over again all because of that man. How can I or any woman for that matter, not love him?"

"And he just woke up one day and you were there?"

"Well, there was a little more to it than that, but yes."

"What if you never went back to the Manor after fleeing Hogwarts?"

"There was magic that Lucius cast before his death that connected me to the Malfoy properties. I would have returned eventually."

"If I had caught and married you then, his marrying you would never have been an option."

"But I escaped and I was able to protect Harry. Would you have done that for me?"

"Potter has been and will always be the Dark Lord's."

"I expected nothing less. I would eventually have found a way to escape or I would have killed you. It would have never worked between us."

The wards flickered around them, making the hair on her arms and neck stand on end. They broke with a shower of golden sparks and the iron gates were breached in seconds, Hermione's people surging into no man's land. Voldemort's forces met the full force of the Malfoys and their allies. Spells collided and pandemonium reigned.

Draco and Lucius were standing front and center, mowing through the grunts in the scattered and unprepared vanguard. Sigurd was off to the far side, swinging his mighty sword. Each cut was death and it wasn't long before his enemies fled from him in fear. He was blood-spattered, flecks of gore sparkling in his hair, and his wide white smile looked more like a grimace. Abraxas was on the other side of Lucius and Draco, staring past the macabre dance to the other solitary unmoving figure on the battlefield. Voldemort and Abraxas were locked in a motionless battle, neither advancing, neither turning away.

Hermione pulled out her wand and turned it on Dolohov who was staring at her with a knowing look, the loss of her was crippling and it shone from his eyes. A twinge of unease spread from her stomach and she felt dirty. Dirty because the room had used his love for her to torture him and she took every last ounce of hope he had and dashed them on the ground, grinding them into dust. She did not mince words when she told him that even if the Malfoy's were to die, she would die herself rather than be his wife. This wound was so profound that she felt as if she had sliced into his jugular with a knife. Perhaps that would have been kinder.

"Stupefy," Hermione yelled. Dolohov hadn't moved, hadn't drawn his wand. He only watched her as she leveled her wand at his chest, unmoving as she sent a spell flying at him. It was almost certainly relief, that she saw on his face as he fell backward, unconscious.

Turning quickly, she raised a shield around her and took stock of the situation. Draco was locked in a duel with Theodore Nott, the boy he had once been friends with at school. Lucius had just delivered the finishing blow to Avery, sending him spiraling through the air before hitting the ground. Abraxas and Voldemort were still locked in their silent duel, both staring unflinchingly, neither moving. Hermione rolled her eyes and weaved through the melee and sent a stunner at Voldemort so strong, that it would have knocked out anyone nearby from the kickback.

As it was, it only hit Voldemort's shield and instead of rebounding, it was absorbed into the very structure of the shield, pulsating with strength. Hermione realized a second later that by attacking him she was feeding the shield. It was ingenious really, to make a shield that imbued the spells that were hurled at it, making it even stronger with each strike.

As she stood, considering how to take down such a shield, Draco sent a green spell that shattered the shield, Voldemort's wand clutched in his hand. A wand that had a new master and Draco had no compunctions in using it against its former owner. Voldemort growled in irritation and made his first mistake of the day. He turned his back on Abraxas who moved swiftly, landing a severing charm on his Achilles tendon.

Voldemort went down with a scream, disapparating before he hit the ground.

"Don't worry, Granger," Draco said. "the Order raised wards around the perimeter that prevent him from leaving. Wherever he disapparated to, he is somewhere here at Hogwarts. We will find him. This ends here, today."

Hermione nodded and helped Lucius bind and send their prisoners into cages in the chamber. The only place they could possibly hold them where their lord and master couldn't break them out. Order members had chased the ones that ran and battles continued, unabated around them. She caught sight of Harry and she could have sworn if she didn't know better, that she had seen her mother wielding a wand. Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to her task.

"I wonder where Abraxas went off to," Lucius muttered, searching the still-battling pairs for the telltale Malfoy blond. Hermione looked around after sending off the latest foe with the Malfoy signet ring, she had been gifted only moments before.

Sigurd was also nowhere to be found and Hermione began to panic. What if something happened to them while she was doing grunt work? Work that could be foisted off to one of the younger Order members.

Lucius watched her panic when she couldn't find the elder Malfoys but didn't stop her from leaving him to send the prisoners away. He knew that it had completely escaped her that only a Malfoy could use the rings to send prisoners into the chamber. In fact, he doubted that she realized the significance of holding the ring at all. It wasn't something that Lucius was inclined to tell her while they were still in battle. Maybe later, when things were settled and they claimed her for their own. There was power in her acceptance or refusal, even if the refusal was 'not right now'. He wouldn't take that kind of risk.

Gesturing to one of the Order members, he directed the nameless fighter to grab a friend and start levitating their enemies so he could dispatch them easier. He needed to rejoin the fray but only after he knew that these opponents were unable to pick up their wands against them again.

If only he could find a simpler way to contain them without taking so much of his time. His head snapped back and a smile spread on his face. Wouldn't it make more sense to create a temporary and portable extension of the room so that anyone can be put in but no one can get out without a Malfoy? Concentrating on what he wanted, a huge cage materialized in front of him, warded to the nines. No one would leave the confines of the cage without the deliberate intervention of a Malfoy. After explaining the function of the portable jail, he left the younger and more inexperienced fighters to round up their fallen enemies and push them through. He made sure that they understood the danger of touching the bars; for anyone stupid enough to do so would be sucked in and trapped just as surely as their enemies. With a nod, they indicated their understanding and Lucius was off, following behind Hermione, searching for the rest of his family.

Hermione kept her shield up, dodging and weaving through the battles interspersed in the courtyard and made her way into the castle. Stepping over the jewels and glass that littered the floor from the large hourglasses that once kept track of house points, Hermione slipped between the unhinged doors of the Great Hall. The sight that met her eyes made her catch her breath. Voldemort and Eliza Granger stood facing each other, wands leveled.

How was it even possible? Eliza had died years ago just after the school fell. Hermione's heartbeat pounded as if trying to escape its flesh and bone prison.

"Mummy?" Hermione gasped, distracting the participants. She stepped forward reaching out to her mother and noticed the absolute rapture on her mother's face. "How are you here? I thought you were dead."

"Oh sweetie," Eliza said with a soft smile and tearing eyes. With herculean effort, Eliza tore her gaze from Hermione and hardened as she landed her piercing gaze upon her enemy, her wand raised and centered on his chest.

"What a cruel trick you are playing on the girl, Bellatrix," Voldemort crooned to Eliza. Hermione's brows met with confusion. She tried to be silent as she moved forward, not daring to distract the woman who looked remarkably like her mother and unintentionally causing her death.

"It's not cruel if I intend on being exactly that which was lost. I am Eliza. Bellatrix died days ago in the living room of the Granger house."

"You can't win against me, Bellatrix, I thought you were smarter than that." Voldemort seemed wary but relaxed as if he were merely stalling for time. Sigurd stepped from the shadows, his face unrecognizable in the dark, the only identifier was his sword which the pommel was tightly wrapped in his hands. Each step was silent and measured as he stalked his prey, unseen, just like a large cat.

Hermione lifted her wand intending on dealing the final blow herself.

"Uh uh uh," Voldemort said, flicking his wand in Hermione's direction without ever looking at her. He reached up and caught the wood, smirking at the woman in front of him.

"They are in here," Draco yelled as he and Lucius forced the broken doors out of the way.

Voldemort and the woman began dueling. Each flick of the wand was deadly, each dodge was like a dance, as the two powerful beings battled for dominion. It was beautiful in a macabre way as the spells ricocheted around the room, heating and cracking the stone beneath their feet.

The battle flowed into the Hall, pushing Hermione towards the walls in the back, separating her from the only fight that mattered. She was forced into evading a Death Eater that she had never seen before, noticing the rest of the Malfoys were too far away to help. She couldn't watch Eliza or Bellatrix or whoever she was battling against Voldemort and it frustrated her. But her enemies kept coming, stepping over their brethren to take her down. There was no way in Hell that she would allow that. So, until she either retrieved her wand or won another, she was stuck dodging, desperately making her way closer to the dueling pair.

**HGHG**

Bellatrix concentrated solely on the man in front of her, refusing to lose focus. Determination burned within her, battling fiercely with the euphoria of Hermione calling her Mummy. Oh, to hear Hermione call out to her again, to claim her as her own. Bellatrix would do anything, anything, to hear those words again.

The only threat that she had to face before she could experience utter bliss was Voldemort, the man whom she had once cherished and desired above all. Until the torture chamber showed her the way her life should go.

When she shielded, he advanced and when she dropped her offense, he attacked. But she was fast, twirling on the balls of her feet, never letting him get the upper hand. She let the spells fly past her face and warm her cheeks they were so close. Voldemort was snarling at her now, dropping the taunting revelations he began with. She was too powerful for that. It was something Hermione had in common with her. That, and the curly hair.

She ducked to the right expecting him to send a spell to her left but was horrified to see the acid green light of the spell was aimed at Hermione.

Adjusting her movements, she flung herself in front of the offending spell. If she had been thinking rationally, perhaps she would have raised a shield or flicked it out of its current path but she didn't. Her body was full of emotions, ideas that Hermione might actually consider her as her mother someday.

The spell ripped into her, tearing flesh away from the bone, cracking ribs, and splattering blood in an arch around her body. She hit the stone with a resounding thud, pain overtaking her mind. Being unable to move was a special kind of torture as Voldemort laughed and stepped over her, heading towards Hermione.

"Over my dead body," Bellatrix whispered through clenched teeth. With every last bit of strength that she possessed, Bellatrix grabbed his leg as he stepped over her, forcing him to fall hard on his knees.

"How dare you," He hissed dangerously, turning his newly acquired wand between her eyes. Bellatrix smiled as blood bubbled out of the corner of her mouth, staining her teeth.

"You will never have her. She would rather die and so would I. Avada Kedavra." The spell was like silk against skin- Delicious- But it sailed over his shoulder and hit one of the fighters behind.

"You dare turn your wand against your master? For her? For our enemies?" His upper lip curled with fury and revulsion. "Obli…"

Sigurd came up behind him, resting the sharp edge of his blade against Voldemort's jugular, preventing him from finishing his spell.

"Don't," Sigurd said, using his sword to suppress his enemy.

"Do it then. I will just come back stronger than ever." Voldemort said, still staring at Bellatrix who was beginning to fade. All the color had leeched from her skin, flowing out of her at a faster rate than her pooling blood.

Sigurd smiled his macabre smile and hoisted Voldemort up by the back of the robes.

"I have merely come to invite you to meet your maker. If that means I will have the pleasure of making that a yearly or decade ritual, so be it." He drew his sword back from Voldemort's neck and swung, meeting only fabric as the bastard disapparated, once again playing hide and seek in the castle or grounds. "Fuck!" Sigurd yelled.

Kneeling next to Bellatrix, he began knitting some of the less serious wounds together, unable to do more.

"You heard him call me Bellatrix. Why are you helping me?"

"I have my reasons." He said cryptically.

Bellatrix turned away from him and coughed. A blood clot landed on the stone next to her head.

"Medic!" Sigurd yelled and sighed in relief as Severus landed on his knees next to them. Once he was sure Severus would do all he could to save this woman, Sigurd left, stalking out of the castle. It was time to hunt and there was no prey that he understood better than a powerful adversary.

**HGHG**

A cry from across the room distracted Hermione, allowing a Death Eater to land a singing jinx on her thigh. She winced but sighed in relief as Draco stepped forward, cutting off the man who had landed a spell on Hermione, retribution in his eyes. Leaving Draco to exact his revenge, Hermione struggled to get to the dais. With dawning horror, she realized that whoever that woman was, fell beneath Voldemort's wand. Her only consolation was that Voldemort was on his knees next to her.

By the time she got to the woman, Voldemort had disappeared. Severus was hunched over the woman, furiously healing the grievous wounds she had sustained fighting Voldemort. Hermione fell to her knees next to the woman and lifted the head onto her lap, smoothing the familiar curls off her mother's face.

"Mum?"

"I couldn't bring her back, Poppet." Bellatrix gasped laboriously, grunting as bones popped back into place and important organs were stitched back together. "I tried. I used whatever spells and potions I could find. It should have been enough but no matter what I did, I couldn't bring her back. I didn't want to disappoint you."

Hermione felt sick and a tear trailed down her face as she realized that Bellatrix Lestrange gave up her entire existence just to give her mother back to her. Pity rose in her throat and it battled with resentment. This was the woman who tortured her. The woman who tortured Neville's parents into insanity. How could there possibly be redemption for one such as Bellatrix?

Hope flared in Bellatrix's eyes as Hermione continued stroking her hair. She was like a child and would be so easy to please. Hermione also knew that she would be just as easy to break. One word is all it would take and Bellatrix would be no more than ward mates with the Longbottoms.

Hermione dug deep inside herself and made the most important decision in her whole entire life. What kind of person was she and what world did she want to leave behind when she was gone? She swallowed and resolved that when this was all over she would seek counseling but for now, she pasted a trembling smile to her lips. If this would stop perpetuating the cycle, then it was for the betterment of the future. Kindness, after all, didn't cost anything. Forgiveness was harder. It would cost her, her hate and that left her with a curiously empty feeling. If she didn't have hate, what did she have? And that scared her more than anything.

"I will try to forgive you, Bellatrix." Hermione continued stroking her hair and Severus stayed silent but his eyebrows were in his hairline.

Bellatrix cried. Ugly wracking sobs that were hindering her healing.

"Don't cry," Hermione said, pity dancing in her eyes. "You and I have a lot to talk about once this is over. Get better so I can yell at you and hug you and perhaps one day we can be friends."

"Friends?" Bellatrix sobbed despairingly.

"Yes. You are not actually my mother and I need to be able to mourn her. I want to find out who you really are underneath these rabid beliefs. Can you become a better person? We will see. Whatever we come to be towards each other in the future depends on this."

Draco walked up behind Hermione and sank to his knees, worn out. He pulled Hermione back into his body and kissed her shoulder. The fighting in this room had abated except for a few around the periphery of the room. Lucius was directing the Order to take the prisoners to the cage on the green, outside. The fighting from other places in the castle rang through the halls, calling the combatants to arms. Abraxas was still missing and Sigurd slipped away only moments ago.

**HGHG**

Sigurd moved stealthily through the halls, keeping his head cocked, following the slight scent of magical apparition. One of his hands were wrapped around the hilt of his sheathed sword, ready to draw it at a moment's notice. Each footstep was silent- toe to heel- his back to the wall.

In front of him, a door opened and Harry walked out, smirking. Sigurd peeked into the room shocked at the neat pile of robed Death Eaters that laid in the middle of the room.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, noticing Sigurd for the first time.

"I am hunting."

"Oh yeah?" Harry asked, amusement pulling his lips up. "What are you hunting?"

"Not what, but who. Voldemort managed to escape from me in the Great Hall. I will not make such a stupid mistake again. When I find him, I will end him and when he comes back, I will end him again."

"He can't come back unless he made a new Horcrux but I don't believe he did," Harry said, falling in behind Sigurd, keeping as close to the wall, wand out.

"He made Horcruxes?" Sigurd whispered, revolted.

"Yup,"

"What a creepy fucker," Sigurd muttered. Harry snorted from behind him. Harry's words kept running through his mind until he stopped abruptly, turning just enough to pin Harry with his steely gaze. "Are you saying that if I kill him now, he will meet his final death?"

"That is what we believe, yes," Harry confirmed. Sigurd's smile widened, the tightening of the skin made the blood flake off of his face, leaving curious little bare patches around his slight dimples.

"Can you do something for me?"

"Sure,"

"If what you are saying is true, I have a way to end this, once and for all. Go to the Great Hall and find Hermione. Stay with her. It will all end soon."

With a nod, they parted. Sigurd still stealthily moving through the castle and Harry making his way to the Great Hall.

**HGHG**

Hermione stiffened as a familiar voice whispered in her ear.

"Walk out of the Hall and go to the Potions classroom. I will be waiting, Cousin."

Hermione swung around, searching the air around her for any signs of Voldemort under disillusionment. There was nothing there but the hair on her neck was still standing on end, Draco's chin resting on her other shoulder. She had no doubt that he had been standing right behind them only moments ago.

Leaving the safety and warmth of Draco's arms, Hermione stood. Now that she knew Bellatrix would live, she knew what had to be done now. This was it. This was the ending that they all needed.

"He is in the Potion's classroom," Hermione told them, not meeting their eyes. Draco and Lucius nodded, rising to their feet, leaving Bellatrix in Severus' care. Draco took her hand and wrapped her smaller one in his. It was comforting and loving and her chest felt like bursting. They were out in the entryway, heading into the dungeons.

"I love you," Hermione told Draco, staring at him as his lips quirked. He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her fingers.

"I love you too, Granger. You sure know how to pick a moment." He smiled, chuckling to himself as they all walked down to the dungeons.

She reached forward with her free and slid it into Lucius'. He was tense, no doubt having heard what she told Draco. She smiled. If this was going to be the last time with either of them alive, she wanted them to know what she felt for them.

"Lucius, I love you too."

He paused and Draco and Hermione caught up with him. Draco laughed outright at the stunned look on Lucius's face.

"Are you surprised, Lucius?" Draco asked.

"I never thought," He began.

"What?" Hermione said.

"After everything I have done, I never expected to hear you say it. I only hoped that I could stay with you, near you, loving you. I never expected your love in return."

"After this is over, we are going to talk about this. Right now, we have only one goal. It's time to end this."

They were in front of the potions classroom before they realized and Hermione took a deep breath before pushing open the door.

**HGHG**

Abraxas was sitting in the Potion master's chair, looking around at the sparse decoration that Severus seemed to favor. Cradled in his hands was a vial filled with the silvery essence of a memory. A pensieve sat on the desk in front of him and he sat back, waiting for Voldemort. There was no doubt in his mind that he would come, it was only a matter of time. Their fight started here and it would end here.

Voldemort walked in dropping his disillusionment, coming face to face with his first ever failed servant.

"Abraxas," He hissed, narrowing his eyes at the pensieve and memory that the man held in his hands. "What's this?"

"This is a memory that I think you will be very interested in. Sigurd had a dream of you. Would you like to see it?" Abraxas swirled the vial, raising both eyebrows in invitation.

"A dream?"

"Prophecies, dreams. Po-tay- toe, Po-tah-toe. If you are not interested…" Abraxas made as if to drop the vial.

"Wait," Voldemort hissed, walking forward took the glass in his hands and popped the cork. He poured the liquid memory into the pensieve. "after you." Abraxas smirked and sank his face in the surface, followed almost immediately by Voldemort. The mist cleared as a battle formed around them.

Voldemort fell to his knees, his body weak and battered. Broken almost beyond repair. Keeping his shield raised, casting and reinforcing it every other minute. It was unable to stand against the power and knowledge of Draco who wielded his own wand. The wand that had served him so well ever since he bought it from Ollivander's as an eleven-year-old.

Voldemort struggled to complete his healing and blew out a breath of relief when he could hold his body weight. A full healing would have to wait. He stood, reinforcing his shield, despite knowing it could never hold against Draco. Turning to Hermione he smirked, aiming his next spell at her.

"Compedio," He said, an evil grin on his face.

Hermione was fast but not fast enough. Her head crashed against the ground and pain exploded behind her eyes. A heavy weight pinned her down and the crescendo of noise became deafening and jumbled. The wind was knocked out of her and she fought to breathe.

She blinked rapidly and after only a few minutes things came back into focus. Curly brown hair was threatening to choke her and she desperately tried to gather the hair. Her hair had been braided and pinned away from her face, knowing from experience that she wouldn't have time to sort her hair in the middle of a duel. But if it wasn't her hair, whose was it? The familiarity and nostalgia threatened to drown her.

She pushed the weight off of her with difficulty and rolled over to see the person who had saved her, taken the spell for her. For the second time that day, Hermione's breath was knocked out of her. With shaking hands, she gently pushed the mass of curls from the woman's face.

"Mum?" She whispered. The person below her lay unconscious and dying. Hermione shook the woman with more force and a great deal of panic and confusion entered her voice. "MUM!"

Eliza Granger blinked open her eyes and smiled once she finally recognized Hermione.

"Hermione," Eliza murmured. She stopped and closed her eyes, clenching he teeth from the pain.

"No, Mum! Stay with me! What are you doing here? I thought you were dead! For years and years. What is happening?" She sobbed, grateful to the wall of Malfoys that kept her from being attacked.

"I would do anything for you, darling. Anything." Eliza exhaled for a final time and for a moment, Hermione sat, waiting for the next word, for her eyes to open, for anything. With dawning realization, Hermione ran diagnostics on her. Horror and fury raced through her soul as all the diagnostics she cast told her the same thing. Her mother was dead. Just when she thought that maybe her mother had somehow survived.

Hermione screamed, releasing wild magic that pummeled anyone within a six-foot radius. Bringing them all to their knees. She stood, tears pouring out of her eyes and waved her wand with a vengeance, electricity crackling around her as she unconsciously summoned it from the very earth. For a moment, she wished she had Sigurd's sword. It would feel very satisfying to wield such a weapon in her grief.

Friends and foes alike stared at Hermione in awe. Lightening cracked around her in a halo of power. She pushed the Malfoys aside, intent on meeting Voldemort in battle. He had taken her mother from her twice. Grief made her strong and focused.

Sigurd went back to her mother and went on his knees, reaching out to close her eyes. Someone fell to their knees opposite of him and Sigurd looked up startled to see Harry Potter's face.

"I had seen her so often from the pictures Hermione had of her," Harry said. He nodded and whispered something into the dead woman's ear before standing and stiffly walking to Hermione.

He walked into her magical perimeter, standing at her side untouched by the magic she wielded. A feat that not even the Malfoys could perform as they struggled to stay upright as her magic lashed against their bodies.

A hush fell over the combatants as Harry and Hermione stood against Voldemort. Harry and Hermione had battled side by side for years and because of that, they were flawless in their attacks and defense. When she concentrated on the offense, Harry protected them from return fire.

Voldemort may have been the most powerful man in the battle that day, but he was by no means the most determined. They drilled him, forced him into a retreat, finally pinning him down against one of the castle walls.

Around them, the battle was stilted as everyone waited for the outcome of the most important battle. Once or twice, Voldemort tried to disapparated and failed as the wards the Order set prevented him.

Voldemort snarled at the duo, sending nasty spells flying at them, some of which they only barely managed to avoid and some that landed on the intended target. Hermione's right leg was a mass of bruises from hip to ankle. But it was ignored. There was nothing that she wanted more than Voldemort's death.

"Diffindo," Hermione said and smiled with satisfaction when it landed, leaving a bloody cut across his cheek. Her smile dropped immediately when Harry was hit, taken to his knees, clutching his stomach and gasping. In less than a moment, Hermione watched as her wand sailed in the air between them, landing with a smack in his open palm.

"What are you going to do now, Cousin?" You can't win against me. You should just surrender to me now. I promise that you will be treated like a princess. Dolohov is quite enamored with you, you know."

Hermione couldn't see anything without a veil of crimson overlaying the whole scene. Blood pounded through her ears. With a scream, Hermione ran towards Voldemort and wrapped his neck in her small hands. She was screaming at him. Ron was dead. Her mother and father dead. The Weasleys. Everyone was dead and it was all his fault.

Voldemort continued his casting at her but quickly abandoned the tactic as his spells merely bounced off of her, rebounding and hitting the stone behind his head. His hands scrabbled against her arms but the electrical current that ran over her skin prevented him from getting a good grasp. Her grip alone wouldn't have done anything to him but this power that rose from her very core was unlike anything else he had ever encountered. It was strangling his magic, drawing it forcefully from his body. He imagined that it was exactly how Narcissa felt every time he drew from her magical well and began to frantically fight against the small witch.

"Avada Kedava," a deep voice muttered, sending the jet of green light over Hermione's shoulder and hit Voldemort in the center of his head. Voldemort slumped out of her grasp and she stared at his body unblinkingly, uncomprehending that is was over. That Voldemort was dead.

Arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back into a familiar chest.

"Okay, Granger?" Draco asked as he pulled her away from Voldemort. He was still holding Voldemort's former wand in a tight fist, fearing that the evil despot would be coming back from the dead despite their fevered attempts to ensure his final death. Hermione nodded. She wasn't okay but that was normal, right?

Sounds of battle filled her ears again as the Order captured prisoners or chased Death Eaters across the grounds. Severus was on his knees next to Harry, healing the deep slash that opened his stomach. His arms were the only thing that kept them inside but his blood was pumping out onto the grass.

Voldemort and Abraxas pulled out of the memory and they stared at each other.

"This is obsolete. I already dueled with this woman and I didn't kill her."

"If you say so," Abraxas said with a smirk.

The door flew open and Hermione stepped in holding Lucius and Draco by the hand. Voldemort's lip curled and fear rolled off him in waves. Standing in front of him were the two people that were destined to kill him if that memory prophecy was anything to go by. He growled, hating that he needed to run. The tactical retreat was the only opportunity he had that might win him the war. With a loud crack, he was once again gone.

"What happened?" Lucius asked shrewdly.

"I showed him Sigurd's prophecy."

"Excellent." Lucius smiled and his hand tightened around Hermione's. "It's time."

**HGHG**

Bellatrix sat up and hung her head. She couldn't even look Snape in the eyes. She had done such terrible things.

"What did you do?"

"I became her, Eliza Granger."

"Those are dark spells and they are never permanent. They cause madness and schizophrenia. It takes more than thirty years off of your lifespan."

"My life before was not worth living. Isn't it better to do good for a day than evil for a lifetime?"

Snape shook his head and said, "No matter what, you are still not her mother. This is cruel, even for you."

"I would die for her," Bellatrix raised her head defiantly. She vehemently disagreed with him. This was the best she could do for Hermione. The only thing that may earn her redemption from the young witch. No matter the consequences, it was worth it.

Chapter Text

19

Previously:

Snape shook his head and said, "No matter what, you are still not her mother. This is cruel, even for you."

"I would die for her," Bellatrix raised her head defiantly. She vehemently disagreed with him. This was the best she could do for Hermione. The only thing that may earn her redemption from the young witch. No matter the consequences, it was worth it.

**HGHG**

Snape helped Bellatrix to her feet and handed her one of the vials of healing potion and blood replenisher. As loathe as he was to waste valuable potions on her, he knew that Hermione wouldn't feel the same way. For some reason, she wanted Bellatrix alive. It was ridiculous but Narcissa also deserved the chance to face her sister, for better or worse.

Bellatrix nodded her thanks and downed the contents of the vials. She sighed as they began working, further healing her internal wounds. Lastly, Snape handed her a small single dose of Skele-Gro and watched as she shuddered upon quaffing the whole in one go.

"Perhaps you should sit out the rest of the battle, Bella," Snape muttered, hoping she took the chance he offered. The chance to flee.

"That is the stupidest thing you have ever said," Her eyes snapped angrily to his. He shrugged, not really caring either way.

They walked together out of the Great Hall, stopped only by a deep mocking voice that said, "Well, well, well, what have we here?"

Severus and Bellatrix turned around wands aloft. Standing in the middle of the first stairway in Hogwarts, nonchalantly leaning against the stone banister, was Antonin Dolohov. The sneer on his face rivaled that of Snape's own patented look during potions.

"Dolohov," Snape smirked, letting his wand point to the floor as if saying there was nothing to fear from his former brother in arms. "You seemed to have recovered from the ticks nicely. It's such a shame that I let you live that day but hindsight and all that,"

Dolohov clenched his teeth and glared, shuddering infinitesimally at the memory.

"If it wasn't for you, I would have Hermione right now. She wouldn't have been stolen out from underneath me."

"Oh, no. Don't blame me for your shortcomings. If she doesn't want you now, she wouldn't have wanted you then. Your deficiencies are your own."

"You bloody bastard," Dolohov groundout. A jet of red light illuminated the darkened entryway as it sailed across the room.

**HGHG**

Hermione allowed that she didn't have time to figure out what game her men were up to nor was she going to figure out why Sigurd failed to inform her that he was still dreaming of prophecies. They all followed her from the dungeons still as tight-lipped as ever. She suspected that Sigurd had a vision of more than what they showed to Voldemort and that it was imperative that they not tell her. She could admit that it chaffed.

Despite hating that she wasn't in the loop of their little scheme, she recognized that she had a much larger problem on her hands. She didn't have a wand and her wandless magic was unreliable. Still, she wasn't talking to them until they deigned to include her.

A loud crash came from the entranceway, several meters in front of them. Smoke filled the room and the castle groaned as it absorbed the strong attacks being hurled back and forth. Stone burst above their heads as they moved into the open and showered down upon them. Tiny cuts on Hermione's face and neck caused trickles of blood to run down into her robes.

Draco, who was the closest to her, grabbed her arm, preventing her from joining the fray. Panic bubbled up in her throat. The longer she was held back, the more intense the feeling became. She felt compelled to step in, to take up arms, even knowing she had no means to do so.

A low grunt filled the room as a deep purple spell landed on its mark, dropping one of the combatants to their knees. Still, they had no idea who was battling so fiercely.

"Damn you, Snape! Just have the fucking decency to die properly!" Dolohov screamed as Snape sent another volley of spell-fire.

The compulsion to protect was too much for Hermione to ignore and she ripped her arm out of Draco's grasp, running full tilt and disappearing into the choking stone dust that obstructed any sort of decent view.

"Hermione!" Draco yelled, equally panicked and scrambled to catch her arm again. It was a lost cause because before he was able to take his next breath, she was gone.

Hermione couldn't see anything but she felt like a homing pigeon who knew exactly where to fly. It was a straight course she was on, presumably towards Snape. All of a sudden a horrifying prospect entered her mind. Snape was in an intense battle and she owed the man a life debt.

Reaching her destination, she caught a spell on her left shoulder on her back, shielding Snape the only way she was able; with her own body. She crumpled to the floor like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Bellatrix's surprised shout filled the room as she caught her head and prevented a very serious concussion. Bellatrix's scrabbling fingers caught in the chain around her neck, slowing her descent until the chain snapped.

Spells continued flinging back and forth as Dolohov continued his assault against Snape, not realizing that a third party had been injured. Snape only took a moment to look at Bellatrix in askance, ensuring that Hermione's wounds were not life-threatening before returning to the fight with a vengeance.

Hermione sighed with relief. The small nodule in the very center of her being that indicated a life debt was gone, paid at a crucial moment. They couldn't afford to lose such a strong wizard like Snape. Not now.

"Poppet, are you okay?" Bellatrix asked, laying her down flat on the floor and hovering over her. Bellatrix worked quickly, healing and stitching her open wounds and soothing burns. Hermione groaned. Was she okay? It felt like her whole body was on fire. At least it was a spell she recognized, having been on its receiving end the year they went to the ministry to save Sirius. Hermione gurgled, unable to drown the pain enough to answer coherently.

"Please," Bellatrix begged as Hermione's eyes rolled to the back of her head.

A blue light enveloped the mad witch who now looked like her mother, taking her Merlin knew where. Hermione was at her limit. The pain crashed over her and unconsciousness welcomed her with opened arms.

Hermione came around almost immediately and jumped a mile high as furious whispers reached her ears.

"Damn it, Hermione, I am going to wring your neck!" Abraxas growled in her ear. "You are not going to fucking die on me! Not now, not ever!"

"I'm okay,"

"Until I get a hold of you," He muttered dangerously.

Spells ricocheted off the shield that Abraxas had raised around them and she watched as Draco, Lucius, and Snape set upon Dolohov with murderous intent. Unsurprisingly, Dolohov didn't last long under the onslaught as two spells collided and hit him mid-chest. He was pushed onto his back, landing heavily on the stairs. Hermione could barely hear Lucius' mocking voice over the raining stone.

"You had the opportunity to switch to our side, the side that is clearly winning. Why didn't you take it as the olive branch that it was?"

"He offered me something better than my freedom."

"So do I," Lucius drawled.

"Oh yeah? What do you offer?" Dolohov sneered.

"Avada Kedavra." A green jet of light hit him in the chest. Ending any chance of redemption that he might have had. Dolohov was a danger, a wild card, a broken man who was obsessed with obtaining Hermione at all costs. There was no way for Dolohov to coexist with them peacefully. This was the only way it could have ended.

Bending down, Lucius picked up the dark wand, smoothing his thumb over the decorative skull on its handle. Studying the unfamiliar wand, he walked back towards his fallen witch and squatted next to her. She was coming back to herself while Abraxas healed her and Lucius extended the handle of the newly acquired wand, holding onto the tip.

Hermione's eyes met his as she reached up to take it.

"Thank you," she murmured, giving the wand a wave to gauge how receptive it would be to her. To her surprise, the wand was responsive and felt as right and comfortable in her hand as her own had. She had no way of knowing whether that was because it had changed allegiance to Lucius Malfoy or because Dolohov had loved her. Either way, she finally had a wand at her disposal.

**HGHG**

Bellatrix landed hard on her knees, her shins taking the brunt of the landing on the bare stone floor.

A clatter of chairs being pushed back filled her ears and she looked up at three figures that towered over her. Her mouth gaped wide as she moved from one face to another.

"Who the fuck are you?" James Potter asked, pointing his wand directly at the Eliza look alike.

"It's not what you think," Bellatrix said knowing that if she told them who she really was, they would kill her on the spot. Using Eliza's identity was obviously out as well, seeing how she was currently staring at the real Eliza. It was starting to make sense, the reason she was unable to summon this woman back from the dead. You couldn't summon a spirit if they weren't dead.

The third and last person she expected to see had his arms wrapped around Eliza's shoulders in a bid for comfort. Bellatrix swallowed nervously, avoiding Regulus Black's penetrating gaze.

"Explain," Regulus said menacingly.

"Don't kill me. I am Bellatrix Lestrange but I am no longer a Death Eater. I swear."

"She could be lying," James muttered, keeping his wand trained on the quaking Bellatrix.

"Probably is," Regulus agreed, pushing the real Eliza behind him. She clutched the back of his shirt with white knuckles. "Why would Bellatrix switch sides and more importantly, why do you look exactly like Eliza? Choose your next words very carefully."

"Take the memory. It would be easier than trying to explain it." Bellatrix pleaded.

James flicked his wand and an empty vial appeared in his open hand. Carefully, as if she was a venomous cobra, he held it out for her to take. Bellatrix moved just as slowly, not wanting the trigger-happy men to strike at her because she moved too fast. Putting the tip of her wand to her temple, she pulled an impossibly long silvery strand of memory. When it was arm's length, it broke off, and she gently filled the vial. Once she capped it, she handed it back to James who left her with Regulus' dangerous glare to observe the contents.

He was gone for what seemed like hours, only coming back after Eliza had served them all tea. Regulus watched closely as Bellatrix sat at the table sipping gratefully at her tea. Regulus was a scary and more handsome version of his father, and no doubt doubly more powerful. What gave her pause was the fact that Regulus seemed awfully protective of Eliza. If anyone could understand why such a powerful wizard wanted to be in one of the Granger women's lives, it would be her. She wouldn't judge him, whatever his motives.

James cleared his throat and everyone turned to look at him. His hair was disheveled to the point where it was criminal. Horror filled his eyes and he avoided looking at Bellatrix at all.

"She is on Hermione's side. Unquestionably." He coughed uncomfortably into his fist, turning away from the three people at the table. Regulus narrowed his suspicious eyes.

"What the hell did that memory show?"

"Did you know the Malfoys have a torture chamber?" James asked him.

"Oh fuck," Regulus said looking sick. "Is Hermione in the chamber? Because I know that no one can come or go from that room without a living Malfoy."

"No. The Malfoys are Hermione's. Bellatrix was in that room and that is the reason that she is like this. She wants to be Hermione's mother."

"But, I'm her mother," Eliza said trembling.

"We didn't know you were alive. I wanted to be forgiven and to give her every ounce of love I was denied."

Eliza looked at James, obviously at a loss for words.

"Where is Hermione now?" James asked, knowing that where she was, his son was also.

"At Hogwarts. The Order has finally trapped Voldemort and with the help of the Malfoys, I think they will win this time."

James turned to Bellatrix and held out his hand.

"Give me that necklace." Despite his menacing glare, Bellatrix clutched the jewel tightly in her fist.

"James, you can't go. It will only distract Harry from what he needs to do." Regulus said firmly.

"I could go," Eliza said tearfully.

"Absolutely not. You aren't a witch. What could you do on a wizard's battlefield?" Regulus asked, fear making his features pinched

"I can go, because Bellatrix, who looks like me, was there. No one would know the difference."

"There is a huge glaring difference. You. Are. Not. A. Witch." Regulus growled. His knuckles where white where they clenched at his sides.

"My daughter is on that battlefield. Do you expect me to just wait here to hear whether she lives or dies?"

"Yes! It's much more likely that you would die even before you saw her. You wouldn't last one minute out there."

"What if I followed her under a disillusionment charm. I would ensure her safety." Bellatrix mumbled.

"Over my dead fucking body!" Regulus yelled he stood, knocking the chair he was sitting on to the floor.

"You can't stop me," Eliza said as she edged her way next to Bellatrix. Surprisingly, Bellatrix reached out her hand, the one holding the ruby, and clasped Eliza's hand.

"You don't have to go," Bellatrix muttered. "I would never let anything happen to Hermione. I love her too."

"Bellatrix will watch out for her," James said, trying to talk Eliza out of going and staring at the conjoined hands. It seemed as if everyone was against Regulus but the stubborn jut of his chin indicated his refusal to back down.

"Regulus, I have to go. I have to. Hermione's out there." Eliza set her chin, having made her decision.

"This is madness, Eliza. Don't go. What do you think you can do for her? There is nothing you can do for Hermione if you go. You need to stay here, where you are safe."

"I can't," Eliza said, "Please," Eliza said and a bright blue light enveloped the two Eliza's ripping them from the kitchen of the safehouse to the entrance of Hogwarts castle. Regulus' panicked scream was lost as they left, using the only means to arrive and leave the safe house, as it was designed all those years ago by Dumbledore. "understand." She finished lamely several hundred kilometers away from where she started.

The stone dust had settled in the time that Bellatrix was away and it was just the two of them alone in the cavernous damaged room. Bellatrix turned toward Eliza and pointed her wand at her. For a moment, fear and regret filled Eliza's face as she tightly closed her eyes against the spell that she believed would end her life.

A sharp rap on her head had her opening her eyes in shock as the feeling of raw egg whites dripped over her body. Raising her hand to brush it away, Eliza froze mid-way, staring at the place where her hand should have been.

"It's better this way," Bellatrix said. "Keep close to me. I will protect us and take you to Hermione but we can't approach her until the end. She can't afford to be distracted. Promise me that you will stay close to me."

"I promise."

Bellatrix pocketed the necklace and waited until she could feel Eliza's fingers curl into her robes. She was euphoric. For the first time, she truly believed that she had earned Hermione's forgiveness. Eliza Granger was alive! Bellatrix smiled at the thought of how Hermione would react to seeing her mother. Finally, they moved outside, toward the sounds of the continuing battle.

**HGHG**

Sigurd paused in front of an open doorway. Not many things surprised the battle-worn Viking, but what he saw inside gave him pause. Narcissa stood over a brutalized body, male from the size of him. Each flick of her wand was delicate, exacting spells designed for revenge and if his body was anything to go by, they had been at this for quite some time. Almost from the beginning in his estimation.

"Narcissa?" he murmured soothingly. She looked up at him calmly, not an ounce of fury in her countenance. The cold detachment that he saw would have terrified even the most experienced of mercenaries, probably more so. Everyone who battled knew that the cold calculation of a killer was way more frightening than a fury induced battle. Fury equated to a quick death. The death promised in the eyes of such as Narcissa promised something much longer, much more painful, and by the end, it was unlikely any pride or resistance would remain.

This type of revenge was often brought through years and years of abuse. This was the retribution she felt she deserved, that was owed to her. She had done her suffering and now it was his turn. Like for like. It was likely that she had done nothing more to him that he had done to her. That was the kind of retribution these types sought. An eye for an eye. But Sigurd also knew that when it was over, there would be nothing left for her. This was not gratifying, it only destroyed the soul.

"Sigurd," she said dispassionately, her eyes empty, calculating only the next place on the man's body she would light into next.

"I thought you were staying behind at the Manor,"

"Did you truly think that I would stay behind all alone to wait while everyone who means something to me fought for their lives? No. I only told them what they wanted to hear so that I would be free to slip in behind them unnoticed."

"Come with me, help me find him and we will end him together."

Narcissa smiled, deliberating. She nodded slowly.

"It wouldn't be right to kill Rosier. Without help, he will die in agony, nice and slow. How fitting. It was exactly how he left me many times over the last two years."

"But you are alive."

"Not because he ensured it. I promise you that. If Severus hadn't been so attentive, I would have died hours before I was found on multiple occasions." Turning, Narcissa kneeled next to Rosier's battered head and leaned in close. "I won't even ward the door. Hope will make your death all the sweeter."

Sigurd held his hand out and waited with baited breath until she took it.

"You kill your enemies and you revel in it, what makes this so different?" Narcissa asked, avoiding his disapproving stare.

"I kill them because we are in a war. I don't draw it out, I don't fuck with their minds. I deliver a quick death during battle, an honorable way to die. There is no honor in that," He gestured back to the room they just vacated.

"You believe I would have been vindicated by meeting him in battle and giving him a swift death? He doesn't deserve that."

"Perhaps not, but you do. You deserve to kill him with dignity, to show the world that he didn't steal anything from you. That you could rise above them whenever you pleased. This is why honor in battle is so important. It's not for your enemies. It's for yourself so that you can live with what you have done when the war is won."

Sigurd left a speechless Narcissa to follow behind once she composed herself and followed the now stronger trail that led out of the main doors of the castle and onto the grounds. Torn between finding Hermione and entering battle at her side or continuing the hunt for Voldemort, he paused. He could see her from the entrance, braids whipping around her face as she moved as if she had been in battles her entire life. Agility and grace flowed from her, something that could only be gotten with experience. Her opponents fell under her wand, a waterfall of bodies.

Hermione didn't need his sword at her side. She needed the war to end and the only way they would achieve that was to cut off the head of the movement. If he joined the battle now, all the finely made plans that he and Abraxas put into place would become moot. There was no telling what the outcome would be then.

Turning away from the ongoing battle, he led Narcissa around the side of the castle to the only place left that Voldemort could be hiding. The greenhouses.

They approached the greenhouses slowly, peeking in through the semi-opaque windows. They easily ruled out the first two as there was little in the way of hiding spots in the seedlings. Greenhouse three was a different story altogether.

The Venomous Tentacula had grown wild over the last few years and it seemed to be out for blood. The second they crossed the threshold of Greenhouse three, the plant had wrapped their legs and ankles in its inflexible grip.

"Damn," Sigurd muttered. If the Tentacula was so desperate for prey that it grabbed them the moment they entered, it was unlikely that Voldemort was inside. Sigurd hissed in displeasure as the vine bit him.

"Severus has the antidote. As long as we take it within the hour we will be fine." Narcissa said as she severed the vines creeping up her thighs.

With a loud rasp, Sigurd drew his sword. The meager light reflected off the blade adding to its natural magical glow. After the first couple of slashes, the Venomous Tentacula withdrew its tentacles quivering with fear.

"He's not here," Narcissa said unnecessarily and Sigurd growled in frustration. There were several more greenhouses to search before they could leave them. The Venomous Tentacula quivered in fear, drawing its wines back into itself for protection.

Sigurd and Narcissa walked out of the Greenhouse with more urgency than before, going from one dangerous building to the next.

"He's not here," Sigurd said mildly, as if unsurprised that his vision had let him down. Once again he reached out to find the magical trail of apparation.

"I'm not crazy, the trail ends here. Either Voldemort had already come and gone or I am missing something. I need Abraxas, Draco, or Lucius." Sigurd grumbled.

"I'll send a Patronus." Narcissa offered.

"No, they are in the middle of battle. A Patronus will only detract from their concentration. One of us needs to go."

"I'll go,"

Sigurd nodded and silently watched Narcissa leave.

Lying was not something that he made a habit out of. Mostly because lies were subjective to him. Sigurd had seen important things happen in a thousand different ways and therefore, lies were only visions that never came to pass.

Perhaps that was why he didn't feel an ounce of guilt for sending Narcissa off when he knew very well where Voldemort was. It was important that Narcissa not be at the final confrontation but it was equally important that one of his descendants was.

"It's very clever the way you chase me," Voldemort said as he walked into the light, caressing the large leaves as he passed, ignoring how they recoiled from his touch.

"You are an abomination. It is the duty of everyone to ensure your demise."

Voldemort chuckled, enjoying the way that the large Viking kept regripping the hilt of his sword. "You mean to bring the fight here? To the greenhouses?"

Sigurd and Voldemort circled each other, both tense with anticipation. Like lightning, Voldemort struck, sending a volley of spells at Sigurd. Lifting his sword, he deflected them, sending them haphazardly around the room. Pots broke, scattering terracotta on the floor.

Sigurd's sword glowed more intensely with each spell deflected and he continued to circle his opponent, waiting for an opportune time to strike. Voldemort unamused that Sigurd seemed to be deflecting his spells effortlessly, raised his impenetrable shield. As long as Draco remained out of their fight, he would have no problem defeating the Malfoy in front of him.

Neither moved as the ground quaked beneath them, heralding the arrival of a massive crowd. It was stilted though, and Sigurd knew that it meant that battles were erupting in the process, slowing down the procession. In short order, the greenhouse they were in was surrounded by friends and foes alike, darkening the interior.

Harry Potter walked in, shoulder to shoulder with Draco Malfoy, their wands raised and ready for the fight. Hermione shouldered her way past them, narrowing her eyes and curling her lip. The rest of the Malfoys were behind them, blocking anyone else from getting in.

Voldemort curled his lip and twisted on the balls of his feet, trying to apparate out of there, knowing that he couldn't possibly win under such circumstances. But when nothing happened, Sigurd chuckled and Voldemort understood fear for the first time that day.

"You knew I would be here. You did this," Voldemort hissed, ignoring Abraxas who chuckled darkly from the doorway.

"I will admit that I highly suspected this to be where it will all end. I am not omnipotent though. I've been seeing you in my visions just as often as Hermione and her friends. I've had a thousand years to dream and study you. There is no one alive that knows you the way I know you, except maybe Harry Potter."

"You think you are going to be the one to kill me? When all the prophecies say it will be Potter?"

"Prophecies are what you make of them but I doubt you would understand the subtle complexities of the art."

Voldemort bared his teeth in aggression, cornered like an animal and no less dangerous.

**HGHG**

Hermione began casting the moment she stepped into the greenhouse, circling the entrance to stand beside Sigurd. Despite the quickness of her casting, Draco was faster. His spell landed on Voldemort's shield, turning it black where it hit and watched as the shield disintegrated in front of their eyes. The necrotic spell forced Voldemort into desperately trying to erect another. But, Hermione was already in motion.

"Stupify," she muttered and watched as he danced out of the way, casting his own spell and flinging it at her in return, completely forsaking the idea of raising another shield.

"Expulso," he flung back and watched as the plants behind Hermione exploded.

There was a disturbance by the door by Hermione dared not look and continued flinging hexes and curses at Voldemort.

Hermione whipped her wand back around smirking as she cornered him, having finally landed several curses on him. He was desperately trying to ward her off, casting offensive and defensive spells as fast as he could.

"Incarcerous," Hermione said but she took a step back in shock when a familiar blond girl took the spell for Voldemort.

With the extra time and Hermione's shock at seeing Luna Lovegood take a spell for Voldemort allowed the man himself to land a spell on Hermione, except, Luna wasn't the only one ready to take a hit.

"Avada Kedavra," Voldemort curled his lips with victory. If he couldn't have her magic, if he was to die, he would bring Hermione with him. Destroying his greatest foes along with her. And when he came back, he would be all the closer to gaining invincibility.

Hermione stared down at the woman at her feet in horror. Bellatrix had taken the killing curse for her, crumpling at Hermione's feet, dead.

"No," Hermione said in denial. Leaning down, she swept the long curly hair out of the face that was rapidly changing. The dark spells seeped out of Bellatrix, leaving a miasma around her body, as she changed back into the woman she was born. Black hair shot through with grey, a lithe if a slightly undernourished body, and wide glassy brown eyes. Eyes that wept with loss and a deep sadness that was unquenchable.

The disillusion that kept Eliza invisible wore off and she gasped at being thus exposed. Her eyes were pinned to the identical woman who laid unmoving on the floor. Abraxas was the first person to make a move, shielding the real Eliza behind his own body. The glass around the greenhouse shattered as Voldemort's Death Eaters converged in the space. Abraxas pushed Eliza under one of the tables and stood in front of her, trying to protect her the best he could.

Chaos erupted as everyone was once again battling.

"No," Hermione screamed, completely enraged. She was on her feet in moments flinging more and more impressive spells at Voldemort who was desperately trying to retreat.

Hermione stepped over the bound Luna, ignoring the betrayal for the moment, knowing that if she didn't finish this with Voldemort now, it would never end.

She chased him out of the greenhouse and took a leaf out of Abraxas' book, flinging severing charms at the back of his legs. She screamed with vindication when one of the spells landed on the back of his knee, forcing him to fall onto the ground. He was bruised and battered and unable to get up or disapparate.

"You could have been great, you know," Hermione said mockingly, twirling her new wand in between her fingers. "You could have ruled the entire wizarding world without shedding a single drop of blood. You had the charisma, the looks, the drive, but there was something spoiled in you. Something necrotic that ate away at that potential. You were so young when you cemented your ending. Sixteen years old when you created your first Horcrux."

Voldemort's eyes widened and uncontrollable fear flooded his face.

"Yes," she whispered seductively. "I know about all of your little schemes to make yourself invincible. Harry, Ron, and I took care of them for you, don't worry. You even helped us and I don't even think you realized that day you tried to kill Harry and again it didn't take. You killed your own Horcrux. What a team player,"

"No," Voldemort whispered as he struggled to regain his footing but was once again held in place under Hermione's wand.

"Yes," Hermione murmured. She raised her wand, intending to deliver the final blow but Voldemort was tackled from the side.

Eliza, having escaped Abraxas' care and the warring soldiers, plunged a special dagger up under Voldemort's ribs, slipping it easily between the bones that would stop the piercing of his heart. Savagely she twisted the knife, grunting at the effort it took. Piercing the heart was not enough, because of the suction, the heart would close holding the wound together for a short period of time. Time, that help could be found. The arteries needed to be mutilated and Eliza twisted the heavy blade until she scraped the bones that the knife sunk between.

Voldemort gargled and coughed, blood dripping out of the corner of his mouth. His hands scrabbled against Eliza's face leaving ling thin bloody streaks. Hermione helped to subdue the dying man,

"Petrificus totalus," She whispered, freezing Voldemort in his death throes before turning her gaze to her mother in bewilderment. "How is this possible?"

As the last breath left Voldemort's lungs, Eliza stood, leaving the dagger buried to the hilt.

"Bellatrix arrived at the safe house and I talked her into bringing me back with her. I couldn't stand waiting for you uncertain if you would even be able to."

"The safe house? You were at the safe house?! I had that pendant for days and I didn't even go to see who would be there. Is daddy there too?"

"No, honey. Your dad died that night that Dumbledore tried to move us. Your father was a courageous man who died so that I could live. He is the only reason I made it out that night and to Dumbledore's meeting place."

"If not daddy, who else is there?"

"Hermione, are you okay?" Lucius ran toward them, stopping abruptly as he saw Voldemort on the ground, dead, with a knife sticking out of his chest. Tearing his eyes away from the dead body of his former master, he scanned Eliza's bloody hands and Hermione's uncertain gaze. He pulled her into his body, tucking her head under his chin.

"What happened?" He asked Eliza who was giving him a very dangerous stare.

"Who are you," She asked distrustfully.

"Mom, this is Lucius Malfoy,"

"Ah, the father of your school bully. Why are you wrapped around my daughter, sir?"

"A lot has changed since you've been at the safe house. I used a spell to bind the Malfoys to me and brought them back from the dead."

"I don't care! After Richard and I let the Malfoys betroth their heir to you and the way he treated you at school…" She trailed off angrily.

"Now is not the time, but I will explain everything to you. I promise." Lucius muttered resentfully and slightly cowed to Eliza. "Potter is standing watch over the Lovegood girl. She said she will only talk to you, Love." He murmured into her hair.

Hermione drew back and stood on her tiptoes, kissing his surprised mouth, before pulling away completely and taking her mother's arm, forcing her to walk back to the greenhouse where they had fled. Hermione looked back only once and saw Lucius move the body, taking it away from the battlefield.

Hermione kneeled next to Luna, a solitary figure bound in the center of wizards. Bill looked at her with the deepest of betrayals and Harry looked nonplussed.

"Why?" Hermione asked softly. Luna turned to face her, depression and grief staring hollowly out of her eyes.

"They have my son and if they die, I will never find him."

"Your son? I didn't know you had a son."

"Voldemort had this breeding program. They forced pureblood witches from the Order and had his Death Eaters impregnate us."

"It's true," Harry said, backing up her story. "Ginny is pregnant right now. She is at the camp with Teddy."

"Who is the father. Perhaps we can find your son that way."

"My son's name is Bastillion Lestrange. Rabastan's son. They took him from me the moment they could ween him. I haven't seen him in nearly two years. I don't even know if he is okay." Luna burst into tears.

"You should have said! We would have looked for him, done whatever was necessary to get him back."

"Voldemort threatened to have him killed when he released me to give Abraxas a message. If I had done anything other than feeding him information, he would have killed Bast. As a mother, I couldn't allow that."

"You've been spying on us, for him?"

"Yes, but I didn't tell him the important stuff, like what you were planning. I only told him of the relationship between you. Told him more about Sigurd, who he felt was a wildcard. Let him know when Narcissa's potion was complete."

"Oh, Luna,"

"I don't have much time," She said indicating the deep wound on her stomach. "Promise me that you will find my son, make sure he knows how much I love him."

"I will. He will want for nothing, Luna."

"I'm sorry I betrayed you all."

"Luna,"

"It's funny how at the end, things seem so much clearer without the haze of constant panic."

Snape moved forward and levitated Luna, keeping her by his side as he walked back to the castle, and up to the hospital wing.

Now that Voldemort was dead, and the Order members were rounding up his followers that desperately tried to flee from the grounds, Hermione felt like she was cast adrift. For several long minutes, she stared at the puddle of blood that Luna left behind before snapping back to attention, her mother's arm still clamped in her hands.

"Find Rabastan Lestrange. I want him alive." Hermione ordered and Bill gave her a sharp nod before running out of the shattered remains of the greenhouse.

"Who else is at the safe house, Mom?"

"James Potter and Regulus Black."

Harry jumped his eyes wider than saucers.

"My dad is alive?"

Hermione walked over to Bellatrix's body and searched her pockets nearly collapsing with relief as she pulled out the ruby that McGonagall had sent to her. Hermione ran her hands over Bellatrix's peaceful face, smoothing her hair off her face and tugged at her robes, arranging her body, so that she appeared only to be sleeping.

"Draco,"

"Granger?"

"Can you make sure Bellatrix's body gets back to the Manor safely. I want to bury her there."

"Sure. Do you want me to come to the safe house with you?"

"No. I am going with Harry so he can meet his father."

"I'm going too," Sirius said, an unfathomable joy in his eyes. "My brother is alive."

Hermione nodded.

"Where are Abraxas and Sigurd?" She asked looking around and noticing their absence.

Shrugged shoulders were her only answer.

Chapter Text

20

Previously:

"Where are Abraxas and Sigurd?" Hermione asked, looking around and noticing their absence.

Shrugged shoulders were her only answer.

**HGHG**

"Dammit!" Hermione muttered, thrusting the ruby into Harry's hand and closing his fingers over it. "You are going to have to go without me. Why don't you bring them both to the Manor when you are done and we will figure everything out together?"

Harry nodded, looking lost and pissed off and defiant all at the same time.

"To activate the portkey, you have to say the magic word." She continued, smirking and moving back out of the way. Sirius reached out, as Harry opened his fist so that the ruby sat undisturbed in the center.

"Do you mean 'please'?" Harry asked but was gone in a flash of blue light. Hermione had only a moment to stare in the place where they once stood and regret not being able to go with them but perhaps it was better this way. They were all family and she, she wasn't.

Whipping around, Hermione made for the castle, bent on finding Abraxas and Sigurd. She picked up speed, weaving through the fallen and those still fighting. Something wasn't right, and she had a feeling that it was part of the plans that had been kept from her. Pushing herself faster, Hermione began to panic. Why couldn't she be involved with their carefully wrought plans? Now it was so clear in her mind. Why else would they keep it from her unless it was because she would stop them from carrying it out?

From across the green, Hermione was hailed but she was desperately trying to find her family and ignored all summons, hoping that she would just know where to go. She sprinted into the castle and skidded on the fallen jewels and glass. It was eerily quiet; the only noise was the breaking of the shards of glass underfoot.

"Point me ut mea," Hermione murmured as she laid her wand flat against her palm. After a moment of spinning, her wand abruptly stopped, pointing up the moving staircase. She took the stairs two at a time, flying upward, and prayed that the castle would ease her passage.

Luck seemed to be on her side as she made it to the third floor and a hand reached out from an unused classroom, dragging her inside. She squealed at the attack but quickly settled once she saw who the hand belonged to. Abraxas closed the door, shutting them in the dusty room together.

"Abraxas? What in the world are you doing?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

"What I've wanted to do ever since the last time," He groaned and pushed her back against the door, burying his hands in her hair, and lowering his lips to hers. In this way, he cut off any protest she might have made.

She pushed at his chest, trying to force some space between them. It wasn't that she didn't want him, or didn't like what he was doing to her. It was his timing. They were, after all, in the middle of a battle-the battle.

His body was solid and unyielding as he pinned her against the solid wood of the door and his hands held her head unmovable. Hermione spiraled down into the feelings that he was bringing out in her and she began responding in kind.

Voldemort was already destroyed, Dolohov was dead, Bellatrix was gone, and the Order was rounding up the rest. All of a sudden, she wasn't sure why she was protesting at all. Hermione lifted her arms and wound them around Abraxas' neck and moaned into his mouth when his hands left her hair and skimmed over her body. Heat flared in his wake, a trail of tingling nerves that stroked the pleasure center of her brain.

"Brax," Hermione moaned as he sucked her lower lip into his mouth, nipping and licking the plump flesh.

His fingers were nimble as he unbuttoned her robes, hurriedly pushing the fabric off of her shoulders and down her body to pool at their feet.

Hermione reached between them, slowly, agonizingly unbuttoning each of his buttons one at a time. She dragged her nails over his chest, pushing the shirt out of the way. And her breath caught as her thumbnail scraped over his nipple, hardening the pink flesh instantly.

"Fucking perfect," He mumbled, and Hermione heard the click of his belt being undone.

Once his hard cock was free of his trousers, he lifted her leg and wound it around his hip, gripping her tightly where the lace of her stocking was clipped into her garter. His steel flesh was hot and heavy on her mons as he trailed kisses from her abused lips to her neck. Arching her neck, Hermione gave him unrestricted access.

Her breath caught as he nibbled on her skin, leaving stubble burn in his wake. It was exquisite, and she found herself spiraling downward into a haze of lust and desire and need.

Taking himself in hand, he teased her sensitive clit through her knickers, growling into her shoulder. He was just as excited as she was, ready and wanting. Together they groaned as he moved aside the material of her knickers and sank into her slick heat. It was like all of the tension and fear from the day built and built until they were nothing more than the needs their bodies craved. Slowly, he drew out of her before thrusting hard, hitting her cervix and back wall.

"Merlin," Hermione choked and let Abraxas hold her weight as she shifted and wrapped her other leg around his hips. Pushing back against the door, Hermione ground down on his cock. "I needed this."

Abraxas hands gripped her soft arse, pulling her on his cock, moving faster and faster. Pounding into her warm and willing body. The tendons in his neck strained against the skin and sweat dripped between their naked bodies.

"You feel incredible," He grunted, keeping up the brutal pace.

Hermione shattered, screaming unreservedly her climax as wave after wave of pleasure threatened to drown her in bliss. Her muscles pulsated around him, clamping hard on his cock, and Hermione rolled her hips, keeping the friction on her clit. Abraxas threw back his head with his own orgasm, his thrusts slowing to irregular jerks as he coated the inside of her body with his seed.

Hermione dropped her legs and pressed back against the door and Abraxas moved with her, dropping languorous kisses on her shoulders. They were both panting heavily, trying to catch their breath.

"You were absolutely magnificent, Love," He murmured lazily into her ear. Hermione chuckled, running the tips of her fingers over his still chest through the gaping robes that he left only partially undone in their haste to sink into each other.

"Why did you leave the greenhouses so quickly?" Hermione asked when reason started to come back to her. Now that her head was clear of all the stress of before, Hermione started putting things together and narrowed her eyes. "And why do you and Sigurd keep disappearing on me? Keeping things from me?"

Hermione bent down and retrieved her discarded robes and ducked under Abraxas' arm that was resting against the door beside her head. She needed the space to think clearly, and she flattened her lips into a single thin line as he tried to hide a grimace.

"What the hell is going on?" She demanded through clenched teeth, the high of orgasmic bliss evaporating in the light of this new thought. "You didn't fuck me against the door to distract me from something else, did you?" her tone a clear indication of danger. But Abraxas was a smart man and having the experience of being previously married, knew that his only option was to deny any involvement. However, if he did that, he could kiss his relationship with this incredible woman goodbye. There is no way she would suffer a fool in her bed.

He bent down and pulled his trousers up, taking his sweet old time fastening them and securing his belt. He was still facing the door, the only way out of the abandoned classroom and considered bolting.

Lowering her voice further she bit out, "I know you are not going to try and keep me here,"

"Answer one question for me and I will let you out of this room,"

Hermione stared at him, her teeth unhealthily clenched, and she folded her arms over her chest, tapping out an impatient rhythm on the stone floor with the tip of her shoes.

"If you had to choose between killing an innocent child or letting a great evil walk the earth, what would you choose?"

"What are you saying?"

"If you could go back to when Riddle was a child before he went to Hogwarts, would you kill him?"

Hermione froze, her mind whirling with questions.

"There is no way to go back in time that far. So, it is a moot point."

"What if it was possible? What would you do?"

Hermione vacillated, wondering what she really would do. Taking a deep breath, she mulled over his question, not knowing why her answer was vital. How could her answer possibly matter?

"Well," she muttered slowly, keeping her annoyance in check. Was he just wasting time? She shook her head. This seemed too important to him. "I don't know. On one hand, he is just a kid and hadn't made the choices that would set him on this path. There is still the possibility that what we come to fear would never pass. But we know, coming from the future, that it happens. By killing one child, we could save hundreds, maybe even thousands of lives. Even knowing that, how can we execute a child? No. No, if I had the opportunity, I would rather take him, and raise him myself. Perhaps if one thing changed, it would make all the difference."

Abraxas nodded and moved away from the door. Hermione frowned and brushed past him, opening the door, stopping only when his large hand settled lightly on her shoulder.

"The Astronomy Tower. Hurry," Abraxas turned away from her and buttoned up his Oxford, tucking it into his trousers before reaching for the buttons of his robes. Confused, Hermione rushed out of the room, setting a course for the Astronomy tower, even if she didn't know exactly why.

**HGHG**

Harry landed on his arse on the floor, and Sirius sprawled across him. Sirius sat up and groaned holding his head in his hands, trying to stop the dizziness inspired by the portkey and his unexpected travel. Portkeys were something that needed to be prepared for, dammit! Harry shook his head, looking around the room, eyes drawn and focused to the two wands pointed at them.

"Harry?" James asked tentatively, joy and wonder flooding his face.

"Dad?" Harry jumped to his feet and his heart was desperate to escape to freedom up through his throat.

"Harry!" James said pulling his son into his arms for the first time since toddlerhood. Harry wrapped his arms around James and hugged him back fiercely. He had no idea how or why his father was alive but despite all the confusing feelings, he was overjoyed. There would be plenty of time later for the logistics, something that he would wait to hear from Hermione. He had no doubt that she would quickly get to the bottom of everything and overwhelm them all with practical explanations.

"Where is Eliza?" Regulus asked, his wand and eyes locked on his older brother.

"With Hermione. Voldemort is dead. I thought you were dead," Sirius stopped, too choked up with all of the emotions welling within him, preventing him from articulating his thoughts. They stared at each other for several moments before Sirius threw his arms around Regulus, pulling him tightly into his chest, thumping him on his back.

Regulus stood shocked, his wand trapped between them.

"I thought you hated me," Regulus said, wincing.

"I hated what you were becoming. I hated that mum turned you into the perfect little Death Eater, but when Harry found out that you tried to destroy one of his Horcruxes, I realized I had you all wrong! If I hadn't left you to bear the brunt of mums crazy ideologies, perhaps you would have lived. I blamed myself for so long," He reached out hooking one of his arms around James and Harry, pulling them into the huddle. "Prongs! My best mate! I can't believe you are alive!"

"Why didn't you come get me?" Harry asked James. "Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon hated me. You have no idea what my life was like!" Harry angrily spat. He started getting himself justifiably worked up. As happy as he was that his father was still alive, he was also furious at the childhood that he could have had and was denied.

"That night was and still is a blur to me." James began mutedly, mumbling into Harry's shoulder. His fist was gripping the back of his shirt, turning the knuckles white. "I remember the killing curse coming straight at me?and I remember dropping to the floor as the spell passed over my head. It was a close thing though, I have a bald strip on the left side of my scalp. I don't know why Voldemort thought I was dead. I don't know. Maybe he was so certain that his aim was true or maybe he was too focused on you and your mother upstairs. All I know is that I was paralyzed. Perhaps it was a side effect of brushing against the killing curse. That was Dumbledore's theory anyway. I heard Lily plead with him, beg him to kill her instead and oh Merlin, how I fought against the paralysis that held me immobile.

When he killed Lily, I thought maybe, just maybe, she survived like I did. I could hear your confused baby cries, but I couldn't move to check on you. The house rocked and exploded when the curse rebounded. Dumbledore filled in those gaps afterword. I watched Sirius and Hagrid come in turns and take you. I'll never convey to you how it felt knowing that everyone thought I was dead. Later on in the evening, Dumbledore came to the ruins and collected Lily and me.

It took several hours of laying in Hogwarts infirmary before Poppy Pomfrey realized that I wasn't dead just paralyzed and Dumbledore and Pomfrey worked tirelessly to restore me. Immediately upon getting myself back under control, I was screaming for them to unfreeze your mother. Except, she was not just paralyzed; she was dead.

Grieving, I let Dumbledore take me to a safe house, believing that you and I would be reunited. You have no idea the anger I harbored against that man for an unholy amount of time. I knew you would not fare well with Petunia and I begged Dumbledore to release me every time he came to check on us.

One of the enchantments on the safe house was that only the holder of the ruby could come and go freely, and he was always oh so careful to keep it out of my hands. You see, Lily died in a way that provided you extra protection but only if you considered your home under the guardianship of your mother's blood and Petunia was all that was left. You can ask Regulus, I never stopped trying to sway him, never!"

"And me? I sat rotting in Azkaban for twelve years Prongs, for yours and Lily's death. Why didn't you tell him that it was Pettigrew?" Sirius asked accusingly.

"I did," James said, his brows drawing together with confusion. "I recounted the whole tale to him that night, the first night he sequestered me here with your broody brother."

"Dumbledore left me in Azkaban, on purpose?" He sputtered.

James shrugged his shoulders devastated that he was unaware his best mate spent the better part of his adulthood in Azkaban and Sirius looked at Regulus nonplussed.

"He knew Riddle would come back," Harry said slowly, thinking of all the meetings and secrets he shared with Dumbledore. "He needed me to have that protection. It saved my life in my first year. I was able to kill Professor Quirrell with my bare hands, not that I intended to do that. Sirius was my Godfather. If he was innocent and out of Azkaban, I would have lived with him. He must have kept you there for that reason."

"Bloody hell," Sirius murmured. "I don't know whether to kiss his robes for keeping you safe or resurrect and kill him for leaving you with the Dursleys and me in Azkaban for all those years."

"In third year, when the Ministry had you locked in that room, waiting for the Dementor's kiss, Dumbledore was the one who prodded Hermione and me into using her time turner to go back and save you and Buckbeak. I don't believe he wanted you there. He was first and foremost a general in this war. He may have been a shitty person, but he is the reason we were able to win this war at all." Harry muttered.

He had come to terms with Dumbledore a long time ago and even now knowing the extent of the duplicity, Harry held staunch to his beliefs that Dumbledore was human and fallible. But ultimately, he worked to destroy Tom Riddle. Who else would have been able to track down those memories about the Horcruxes, without which, they would still be hunting for them? They wouldn't have even known how many or what they were. It would be so easy to vilify Dumbledore, after all, he deserved it, but Harry refused to do that. Dumbledore was a sad old man who lost everything long before he was born.

"We could do this all night," Harry said, knowing that Dumbledore was neither good nor bad, he was a mixture of both as all people were. "but let's get out of here. Hermione said to meet her at Malfoy Manor, so that is what we will do. I imagine Eliza will be there." Harry held up his hand and the brilliant ruby sat innocently sparkling in his palm and the others reach out, putting only a tip of their fingers on the gem.

"Please," Harry muttered, taking James and Regulus out of the safehouse for the first time in sixteen years.

**HGHG**

Hogwarts seemed to want to help Hermione and moved her quickly up floors and before she knew it, she was climbing the astronomy tower. Voices floated around her in disjointed starts and stops. One deep and soothing, the other high and frightened.

"Daddy, it hurts!" a pained whine pierced through the air.

"It will be over soon son,"

Hermione went cold, knowing what she knew of the Death Eaters and what they did to their own children, not even to mention what they did to those of lesser bloodlines. Refusing to leave the child to his own fate, Hermione barged onto the tower, wand in hand.

Two dark heads swiveled in surprise. Rabastan Lestrange sat on the floor holding out a clear chalice of a smoking virulent green liquid to the toddler on his lap. The child could have been a carbon copy of his father, all except the bright blue eyes that he shared with his mother and his delicate build.

Rabastan froze, the smoking concoction billowing around them.

"What is going on here?" Hermione asked teeth clenched. Afraid that Rabastan would hurt Bastillion if she moved too quickly, she inched toward the pair. Rabastan missed nothing and raised his wand, settling the tip against the fine black hair on his son's head. He shook his head at Hermione and she stopped in her tracks.

A child indeed, Hermione mused. Abraxas had sent her here only after she said she would have saved and raised Riddle differently if she had the opportunity. So, how did that tie into the scene she walked into?

Hermione dropped her wand arm against her side and moved a step back but kept her narrowed and focused gaze on Rabastian, his wand, and the smoking concoction in his other hand.

"What potion is that?" She asked, keeping her voice even for the child on the Death Eater's lap.

"Just a little something that our master created for my young son here," He murmured, a slight smirk tilted his lips and twisted his face into something grotesque. Hermione desperately tried to hide her revulsion from Bastillion, who was looking at her curiously. "Drink up, Bast."

Bast turned his head and wrinkled his nose, not wanting to drink any more of the yucky stuff in the cup that made his whole body hurt.

"Don't," Hermione warned but Rabastan held all the cards. He tightened his grip on his wand that was pointed at his own son and muttered demandingly into the toddler's ear.

"Drink it, or you will be punished for disobeying Daddy."

Bast's eyes went wide and round, obviously no stranger to his father's harsh disciplinary practices. Hermione felt sick and didn't know what to do. On one hand, she could attack Rabastan, but she had no doubt that he would be quicker and wouldn't even hesitate to hurt his and Luna's son. On the other hand, if she did nothing, she would be allowing Bastillion to drink the potion. She had no idea what that potion even was.

Bast brought his lips to the cup and squeezed his little eyes tightly shut as Rabastan tipped the green liquid into the boy's mouth. Hermione stood, impotent and horrified, watching as Bastillion drank. Once he drained all the liquid from the cup, he began to whimper and buried his face into Rabastan's chest. Rabastan set the glass off to the side and brought his hand up to rub the little boy on the back. It was tender and sweet and was at complete odds to how he had treated the boy earlier.

"It was a restorative. Yesterday, the Dark Lord summoned us and gave us orders. We were to stay in the Astronomy tower with this potion and if he was somehow defeated, Bastillion was to drink a goblet full. The Dark Lord is tethered to my son, but he couldn't draw from the boy without killing him. But his soul is in Bast's body. The boy has no idea, even though they share a stronger and more tangible bond than the Dark Lord did with Potter. My master has lost all of his memories and has merged with Bast. He will rise greater than ever before."

"Luna is dying,"

"A sacrifice, a mother's defense,"

"Are you telling me that Luna knew that Riddle and Bast were tethered?"

"Of course, it was Luna who told us about Narcissa being released from the tether. But even without that, the Dark Lord knew. You won't be able to break this bond so easily, not without killing the boy anyway."

"You are sick! He is your own son!"

"And what better show of loyalty to my master than to offer my own son's body and magic?"

Bastillion fell asleep and began snoring, his little head resting against Rabastan's chest. Hermione stared horrified and it made her sick, watching the Death Eater soothe the little boy in his lap.

All at once Rabastan stood up and laid the boy on the floor tenderly, switching from targeting his son to the woman who stood across the way.

"I have to leave now, take good care of my son, Hermione Granger. For his mother's sake," Madness gleamed in his eyes as he retreated to the battlements and grabbed the broom leaning against the crenellations. With a last twist of his lips, he was plummeting in a freefall, the broom securely between his legs. Hermione rushed to edge and flung curse after curse trying to land one on the retreating Death Eater. She growled as he expertly pulled out of the dive and evaded her spell-fire.

Screaming with all the rage of the last few days, electricity drew from the very air and crackled around her. Lightning struck despite the clear day, raining from the heavens, answering her call of fury. The unnatural storm followed Rabastan and he began to fear for his life. He spells sailed past as he serpentined through the white ropes of lightning.

Others drawn by the lightening of the clear day, noticed Hermione throwing spell after spell and began sending volleys of their own at him. He did well and was nearly out of the anti-apparition zone when a purple rope of lightning hit the tail of his broom. The crash and burning of his broom jarred him sufficiently and he watched as his wand plummeted to the ground, mere meters from his fingertips.

He hit the ground with a crash and the Order came running. They only stopped when they approached him, grimacing at the mass of gore that once was a man.

Hermione watched dispassionately as Rabastan fell to his death and when he landed with a crunch, she turned away, knowing that she was the reason this boy, Luna's son, was now an orphan. She had killed both of his parents and she knew deep within that this boy would be protected and raised as if he was from her own body. And she would prove to the world that Tom Riddle, under the right conditions, would never become Lord Voldemort.

Hermione scooped the little boy into her arms and tiredly plodded down the tower, heading to her men. In the back of her mind, she wondered where Sigurd was and hoped that he was okay.

**HGHG**

Sigurd wrapped his hand around his other wrist, keeping pressure on the puss filled wound and cursed Greenhouse three to hell. He had become twisted around in the labyrinthine halls of Hogwarts, not having the pleasure to attend. At one time, the founders had the infirmary in the south wing on the seventh floor, and believing that it was still there, made him waste precious time. The venom was spreading, and he panted as his veins began to calcify, his blood coagulating and turning a thick oozing black marbled with yellow pus.

Sigurd snorted. It was not the gravest wound he had ever recovered from, but it was fast moving, and his provisions were just slightly out of reach. Once again, he damned his unreliable future-sight and trotted determinedly down to the fifth floor, his second best guess.

It was with quite a bit of luck that he ran into Abraxas. Abraxas merely raised a single brow and rolled his eyes at the wandering wounded Viking.

"Snape is in the hospital wing," He drawled, gesturing to the swollen red bite on his arm.

"I know. I just couldn't find the infirmary." Sigurd muttered, pink tinging his cheekbones as he turned his face away in embarrassment. Abraxas shook his head, bemused. "Did Hermione find them? She wasn't too early, was she?"

"No, I made sure she didn't arrive until the proper time."

"Good. I don't think she would forgive herself if that boy died." Sigurd murmured.

"That boy will become her son in many ways. Are you prepared to raise the boy who is Tom Riddle?"

"I've told you over and over again, there is no path for that boy with Hermione as his mother where he turns dark. That boy will be lauded for his contributions to wizards all over the world one day."

"I guess I will have to trust your word. It did get you here after all,"

Sigurd snorted. "Glowing praise coming from you, Brax."

"Don't call me that,"

"Hermione does,"

"Only when she is on my cock,"

"Touché," Sigurd smirked and exhaled loudly when Abraxas pushed open the door to the infirmary. Snape stood over a small cot, a white sheet in his hands, as he covered the face of the dead that lay beneath.

"Miss Lovegood died," Snape said dispassionately. It wasn't his way to show his emotions for all and sundry to see.

"We knew she would," Sigurd muttered and approached the cot, muttering the death rites of his clan. He closed his eyes and placed his forefinger and middle of his left hand on her forehead, leaving behind a small white starburst.

"What is that?"

"A runic ritual for the dead. It was something my mother taught me. It should have fallen to my father, but he died when I was much too young and it was my mother who shouldered the burden."

Snape inhaled sharply, spying the bite on Sigurd's forearm.

"Cutting it a bit close, aren't we?" Snape drawled, pulling an anti-venom from his robe pocket and handed it over to the strange Viking.

"This damn castle," Sigurd muttered as he uncorked the vial and tipped the potion into his mouth. Sweet relief flowed through his body as the potion began its healing work immediately.

"It would have been damnably embarrassing for you to die of Tentacula poisoning," Abraxas said as he picked at his nails.

"Aren't you a peach today," Sigurd murmured. "Oh, by the way, Snape, have you given a dose to Narcissa yet?"

Snape snapped his head around, a dangerous glint in his eyes and a clenched jaw, his only answer.

"Fucking bloody woman!" Snape muttered, flying from the infirmary and into the castle to search for his love, the woman that wasn't supposed to be there in the first place.

**HGHG**

Eliza smiled at Draco as she watched him lay Bellatrix's body in one of the many rooms of the Manor.

"Were you close?"

"With Aunt Bella? No. I think that would have been terrifying."

"Hermione seems to have a soft spot for her. Regulus seems to think that she is a Death Eater and a threat."

"She was. Hermione's relationship with Aunt Bella is complicated. Honestly, it was messed up. My Aunt Bella did unspeakable things to Hermione."

Eliza approached the body and settled the limbs more naturally, smoothing her robes.

"I owe this woman more than you know," Eliza muttered quietly. Draco froze, turning his full attention on his soon to be mother-in-law. "When they came for Richard and me, she was there. She gave us a choice that night and she was a part of the reason I am alive today. She told us that we could both run and be hunted down, Death Eaters on our heels or one of us could go free while the other stayed and endured for as long as possible. Of course, Richard being Richard wouldn't have ever entertained the idea that I would save him. He had ideas about chivalry and gallantry. Stupid man,"

She stopped talking, too overcome to continue. After a deep breath, she whipped a tear off her cheek and took a shuddering breath. "I didn't know who she was at the time. She was hooded but her voice… I'll never forget her voice. When Richard and I came to an agreement that I would be the one to run, she lifted her wand and warned him. 'this is going to hurt and you will wish for death many times before you actually do. Good luck.' I ran for my life. It was the first time in my life that I was jealous of my daughter. Never did I burn with the desire to be a witch as I did that night. If I was magical, I could have fought back, protected my family."

Draco hugged her, patting her back awkwardly like the nineteen-year-old he was. He had no idea that his crazy Aunt Bella let anyone go, especially in those days. It was even before the torture chamber warped her mind.

Eliza pushed away from Draco and patted him on the cheek, smiling through her tears.

"I wish there was some way to pay her back, something that I could do for her…"

A great gasp of air rang through the room, startling both of them out of the tender moment. Their gazes were torn from each other and flew uncomprehendingly at Bellatrix, the once dead body that was once again flushed with life and sitting up unassisted. Draco and Eliza stared, jaws hanging nearly to the floor.

**HGHG**

Narcissa sat on the floor, her back against the wall, Mulciber's unconscious body on the floor next to her. She laughed tiredly and wiped at the trickle of blood running from the corner of her mouth.

She had come to the castle to find Severus and to take on of his anti-venoms and ran quite literally into one of the men who used and abused her. It was a fight for her life and she won. Little good that did. As she sat alone on the floor, she knew that she was dying and that it was too late for her to find Snape. Unless he miraculously showed up with a potion, her last moments would be spent looking in triumph at Mulciber's fat face.

She felt herself turning to stone from the inside out and coughed. It hurt to breathe. Stars floated in her vision and she rested her head back against the wall. She chuckled dryly. It figured that her life would end here, like this. A tragic childhood, a horrendous marriage, a torturous captivity, only to finally die from a half-wild Venomous Tentacula. It was a fitting way to die, shitty but fitting.

Closing her eyes, she slumped over, her breathing getting shallower as she fought for each breath. It wouldn't be long now. Her lips curled at the corners as she thought about Draco when he was small; her one bright light in her life.

He was one of those children who went about their life zooming from one thing to another, never ever sitting still, never doing what he was supposed to be doing. There had been one year when Draco was three that Narcissa thought she was going to lose all of her hair from the stress but every time she would hit that point where she was either going to end up in a nut house or prison for murder, Lucius would step in, grab the boy and send her off to the spa for a weekend. And every time she returned, she didn't know who was happier, Draco or Lucius.

They had many good years together, her and Lucius. It may not have been what she wanted from a partner, but they had found a rhythm and more, and there were times in the last two years that she longed for them back.

These days, she was thankful to Hermione for returning them to life and she got to see Draco again. It was all she ever wanted.

Narcissa slid further down the wall, her breath shallow and slow, blue-tinged around her lips. Severus rose haughtily to the forefront of her mind. That man was the epitome of everything that she wanted in a man, in a lover, in a husband, and she regretted bitterly not having the chance to see what it would have been like to have been his.

Chapter Text

21

Previously:

Narcissa slid further down the wall, her breath shallow and slow, blue-tinged around her lips. Severus rose haughtily to the forefront of her mind. That man was the epitome of everything that she wanted in a man, in a lover, in a husband, and she regretted bitterly not having the chance to see what it would have been like to have been his.

**HGHG**

Narcissa blinked slowly, her vision blurring to the point where only shapes were recognizable. Dark intermingled with the light for what felt like a lifetime until her eyelids shuttered even that small bit of light. A small sigh escaped her lips and her body rested heavier against the cold stone of the wall.

"Don't you dare," a sensuous velvety voice purred angrily. Narcissa struggled to open her eyes, wondering if the voice she most longed to hear was only a figment of her imagination.

A warm calloused hand caressed her face, tipping it up, and putting something smooth to her lips. Instantly, she wanted to gag as liquid flooded her mouth.

"Swallow," he said, and she could do nothing but obey the voice and man that had been saving her life for the last two years in situations much too similar to that at hand. She coughed, unable to help herself, too weak to do anything else.

She came back to herself by degrees, something that felt like a lifetime but only actually was only a few seconds. The potion coursed through her body, trying to repair the damage wrought. And for several tense moments, she morbidly wondered if he had been too late and despite the potions, she would die anyway.

Soon after, another cold smooth lip of a vial was held up to her mouth and she drank, even without his prompting. She opened her eyes and blinked rapidly, the fuzziness fading away as she looked up at her savior. The one man who had saved her a million times over the course of her entire life.

"Don't think that death will stop me from loving you. In fact, it seems to cement within me something nearly unshakable."

Narcissa chuckled wearily, feeling warmth enter her veins and flow to her extremities. Relief flowed through her like a bloated river after the monsoon. Shakily she raised her hand and cupped Severus' face, using her thumb to trace his plump lower lip.

"You are always here when I need you. Every time I think it is the end, there you are, pulling me back. You are the most incredible man I have ever known, and I am so lucky that you love me the way I love you."

"You," He began and stopped to clear his throat that had decided to close with emotion. "You love me?"

"Of course, I do. I have for a long time. Since Draco was small. People don't go through what we have together without forming lasting, unbreakable bonds."

Severus lifted his large calloused hand to cover hers where she caressed his jaw, and pressed his nose to her wrist, drawing a deep breath. He held her hand captive, sliding it from his face to rest against his rapidly beating heart, letting her feel his fear.

"I was almost too late,"

"But you weren't,"

"If Sigurd hadn't told me about you, you would have died here. What do you think that would have done to me, finding you here dead?"

"You found me in time,"

"I, so easily, could have been too late,"

"I'm sorry I scared you."

"I never want to have to pull you back from the brink of death again."

"Is the war over?"

"Yes,"

"Draco? Is he…" she trailed off unable to voice the possible horror of having to bury her child.

"He is fine. All of them are fine."

"Thank Merlin!" Narcissa said emphatically.

Severus slid his hands underneath her body and lifted her in one swift motion, bringing her close to his chest, refusing to accept any situation in which she was not in his arms. Narcissa wrapped her arms around his neck and set her head on his shoulder, letting him take her out of there. He walked purposefully, and the castle seemed to understand his desperation to get out, even the stairs moved to do his bidding. The perks of still being Headmaster, she supposed.

Unable to hold herself back now that the war was over, Narcissa dropped small sucking kisses under his jaw and chuckled lightly at his minute reactions. His Adam's apple bobbed, and his teeth clenched, causing a muscle to tick rhythmically. The moment he cleared the wards that prevented apparition off the grounds, he twisted on the balls of his feet, sending them both into the squeezing, clenching abyss of the in-between.

**HGHG**

Hermione shifted the little dark-haired boy in her arms and grimaced as they began to burn. She never thought carrying around such a tiny child would be so damn difficult and despite the jostling, Bastillion slept through it all. She gritted her teeth and made for a secluded corridor so that she could lay him down and rest her weary muscles. For a moment, she considered using mobilicorpus on him and continue on, but discarded the idea in the same thought. What if he woke up while floating along? That would be terrifying to a boy of nearly three.

She persevered even as the burning in her arms intensified and began to beg silently for the place she was headed for to materialize magically in front of her. She shifted him to her shoulder and focused her sight on the corridor that was now only steps in front of her.

Lucius stepped off of the moving staircase in front of her, startling her so badly that she nearly dropped the boy and despite the save, woke him up in the process anyway. He began to wail directly into her ear, causing her to wince. Hermione petted his hair in an effort to calm him, looking panicked at Lucius.

He made no move to relieve her of her burden, only standing and staring at them.

"Lucius?" Hermione asked once Bast had quieted.

"So, it's true," He whispered.

"Is what true?"

"You are going to raise the Dark Lord?"

"He is just a boy."

"No, Hermione, that is not just a boy. This child has the Dark Lord in him."

"Harry turned out just fine and he had Voldemort in his head!"

"This is different. Potter only had a fraction of his soul. This boy has everything that was left of him."

"Which is coincidentally a lot less than the portion that Harry hosted! I am not going to punish an innocent child for sins that he didn't even commit. Bast might still be in there, even if he is a host for Voldemort. I cannot just leave him to die or grow up like Tom Riddle did the first time around."

"I don't think you are going to be able to fix him. The Dark Lord was evil right down to the very last shard of soul he had. No amount of mothering will change that."

"I think you are wrong."

"Is there nothing that will change your mind?"

"No."

Lucius looked away and sighed heavily, brow furrowed in thought.

"Fine." He said, swinging his gaze back at her. He walked towards her holding his arms out to take the boy. The closer he got, the farther back Hermione moved.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"You look like you need a break from holding him, therefore, I am going to carry him."

"You aren't going to hurt him, are you?"

Lucius looked at her, obviously wounded.

"If I were going to hurt him, I would have already done it, and I would have done it before you even knew about the boy."

"Lucius…" She said.

He held up his hand in a bid for her to stop talking. "Don't,"

"But,"

"Now is not the time,"

"Now is the perfect time. The war is won, and we are in the midst of regrouping. When would be a better time?"

"When I am not so furious, Hermione," He snapped, swinging around and pinning her in place with his angry eyes. "After everything, you don't trust me and that is something that I need time to accept."

Quick as a flash, Lucius took Bastillion and cradled the boy in his arms expertly. Bast smiled sweetly up at him and Lucius smiled back. Keeping his thoughts and feelings on a tight leash, Lucius turned back around and descended the stone stairs of the castle, leaving Hermione to trail along behind.

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," Hermione said softly from behind.

"And yet…" he said, leaving the rest to hang between them. He was not ready to forgive her. Hermione flip-flopped between guilt for not believing in him and seething because he was certainly capable of carrying through with it.

Lucius was a man that did what needed to be done, whatever the cost to himself and that included protecting her from threats real and imagined. She had no doubt that Lucius would have killed the boy if he believed it necessary.

"If Sigurd had told you that he was destined to grow up and kill me, you would have done it in a heartbeat so don't get all pissy with me when I ask you these things. I believe that you do what you feel is best for us, but I also know that you are capable of despicable things if you feel threatened."

"This is what you think of me? A man without morals? Who would kill a defenseless child in front of the woman I would take for a wife? The woman that I would do anything for?"

"The woman I would do anything for," She repeated slowly, looking at him imploringly. Why was he so angry? They both knew what he was capable of. That didn't mean she loved him less, it just meant that she would do anything, say anything to prevent him from carrying out such wicked deeds.

"Do you not see what you mean to me? I would rip my heart out and give it to you if you asked. I just wanted you to be sure of your decision and I will stand by you regardless of public opinion. I simply asked you hard questions that you may ignore because he is a child. Because you should never, ever forget that this boy is the Dark Lord. He may have no memory of his life before now, he may still have traits of the boy whose soul used to be in this body, but make no mistake, Hermione, this boy is more the Dark Lord than he is himself."

"That isn't true. That potion merely bound Voldemort's minuscule piece of soul to Bastillion's."

"That potion killed the boy who was Bastillion and replaced his life force with the Dark Lord's. Miss Lovegood's son is dead. Rabastan made sure of that."

"Dear Merlin," Hermione choked, raising a hand to her mouth in horror. "That is not what Rabastan said."

"Rabastan said what he needed to, to make sure that you would raise the boy."

"Why would they want me to raise him? I would do my damnedest to make sure that he turned out better this time."

"But what power you have! You are surrounded by the most powerful, wealthiest, and influential people in the wizarding world. You are the epicenter of everything. Can you not see what a draw that would be to a power-hungry despot like Voldemort? Next time he rises, he won't be starting out in an orphanage with subpar bloodlines." By the end, Lucius was yelling, and Hermione was yelling back. Bastillion looked between them curiously.

"If he has no memory of what he was, maybe, just maybe, he won't rise at all!"

"Don't be naïve, Hermione. He will still be ambitious and cruel!"

"No! I don't believe that!"

"Bast bad?" the boy's high-pitched panicked voice cut through their argument, stopping it in its tracks.

Hermione turned her attention to the small boy and gave him a shaky smile. She moved closer to him and cupped his face in both of her hands. Her eyes were gentle, and she leaned in letting their noses rub together in an Eskimo kiss, the same way her father had done with her when she was young.

"No darling," Hermione murmured. Had she looked up, she would have noticed the look that Lucius wore. He stared at her as if she was the answer to everything. Despite being mad, it was obvious to all that he truly loved her deeply. "Do you know who I am?"

"Daddy said that you were going to be my new mummy." He reached his tiny hand into his pocket and drew out a small photo. It was one of Colin's, a photo that he took during her sixth year, right before Christmas. The snow had been falling outside in large puffy flakes and she was looking skyward, laughing. It had been one of the last times she felt like a child, happy just to play in the snow. A tear trickled down her cheek and Lucius' thumb wiped it away, causing her to look up into his sad face.

"They planned this for a long time, Sweetheart." He murmured. "The Dark Lord was fond of contingency plans."

Hermione nodded. Their fight felt stupid all of a sudden and she knew he must have felt the same. All was forgiven between them. Lucius leaned down, capturing her lips in a sweet kiss.

"My mum!" Bast said, pushing against Lucius' face with toddler rage.

"Your real mum was a brave and wonderful lady," Hermione began. "do you remember her?"

"You mum," Bast said, obviously confused. Hermione looked at him sadly and resolved to drop in on Luna's old house and try and find as many pictures as possible. She remembered how Harry had cherished that picture album that Hagrid had given him after his first year at Hogwarts.

"I'm going to be your mum now. That's right," she said. Pausing for a moment, she looked up and met Lucius' eyes, a small smile on her lips and her brow raised in question. "and Lucius is going to be one of your Daddies."

Lucius' smile was sixty watts, grinning from ear to ear, before placing a kiss on her temple. Once again, they started back down the stairs, hoping to meet up with the rest of the family.

"By the way," Hermione asked carefully. "What did you do with Voldemort's body?"

"This and that," Lucius muttered ambiguously, smiling as he remembered the Fiendfyre that raged from his wand tip, devouring the body of the Dark Lord in the depths of the Forbidden Forest.

**HGHG**

Eliza ran to the marble pyre they had laid Bellatrix on and sat behind her, smoothing her hand over Bellatrix's heaving back.

"How is this possible?" Eliza asked, "Dead is dead, right? Even in the wizarding world?" She looked at Draco who looked just as flabbergasted as she was sure she did. He nodded but stood frozen, staring at his Aunt who was now once again very much alive and looking as she had prior to her spell to appear as Eliza's doppelganger.

"Sigurd," Bellatrix gasped. "I need to talk to the Viking."

Draco ran from the room, inexplicably relieved that it was him going to find Sigurd and not left behind with his Aunt on her not quite deathbed. He ran from the Manor and the second he was beyond the wards, he disapparated. With a swirl of his robes, he was standing in front of Hogwarts gates for the second time that day.

He broke out into a sprint the moment his toes touched the grass and searched the combatants still dueling on the grounds but knew that Sigurd was most likely inside the castle, the very place where Hermione had gone in search of him and Abraxas when he left with Bellatrix's body.

Inside the castle was silent as the dead but Draco refused to slow down to see any of the destruction that the chaos of battle had wrought. He flew up the stairs, yelling Sigurd's name over and over, hoping that somehow that would be enough to summon him. It wasn't.

He continued to run up the castle steps, begging them not to move away from the next landing until he was off of them. Luckily, they seemed to want to help him out and he continued upward, taking two and three steps at a time.

He was out of breath when he ran into Lucius and Hermione, a young boy in Lucius' arms.

"Draco? What's wrong?" Hermione asked. Pushing past Lucius, Hermione ran her hands over his shoulders and face searching for any wounds. There had to be a damn good reason he left Malfoy Manor and sprinted across the grounds.

"I…need…Sigurd," He panted. "Aunt Bella's…alive,"

"Bellatrix is alive?" Lucius asked completely flabbergasted. Hermione had her wand in hand before they could take another breath.

"Expecto Patronum," She murmured, smiling as an otter gamboled around her legs. "Find Sigurd and tell him to come to the Manor. Bellatrix lives and she is asking for him."

**HGHG**

This time when the portkey pulled Harry, all of them managed to stay on their feet. Regulus and James looked around the destroyed but empty Greenhouse in curiosity, having seen nothing but the inside of the safehouse for nearly two decades.

"They cleaned things up pretty quick," Sirius muttered to himself then turned to Harry. "I need to go get Teddy before I go to the Manor."

Harry nodded. "Ginny will be waiting for me too."

"Teddy? Ginny?" James asked in confusion.

"Lupin had a son before he died, and I am his guardian. They named him Teddy, Teddy Lupin." Sirius said simply.

"And Ginny is going to be my wife. She is heavily pregnant, and I'm worried that if Sirius goes to pick up Teddy and I am not there, she may panic and hurt the baby."

"I'm going to be a Grandfather?" James asked, totally dazed.

Harry's lopsided smile covered his face and nodded, "Yeah, and I'm going to be a dad,"

"Wow," James whispered. He cleared his throat and looked up at Harry and asked, "Can I meet her?"

"Sure," Harry grabbed James' arm and disapparated leaving Sirius and Regulus to follow.

They landed amidst the chaos of returning fighters to the tents that had been their homes and sanctuary for the last few years.

"Harry!" Ginny yelled happily only a few tents away, holding Teddy against her leg as he wrapped his arms and legs around her own. Her other hand was cradling her large stomach, soothing the agitated baby within.

"Ginny!" He shouted, a huge smile on his face. In moments he had his arms around her murmuring his love and happiness in her ear. "He's dead! Voldemort is finally dead!"

Ginny buried her head in his shoulder and shook with powerful sobs. Teddy looked up at them, wide-eyed with fear, wondering what could have set off the crying of his new friend. Sirius grabbed the boy up and nuzzled the baby fat of the little boy's neck.

"There are two people I want you to meet," Sirius said to the boy, smiling wide, and settling Teddy comfortably on his hip. "This is your Uncle James and Uncle Regulus!"

Over Sirius' shoulder, Teddy peeked at the newcomers shyly waving to them. There had been so many new people in the last few days and after years of being with just Sirius in the vaults of Gringotts, Teddy was overwhelmed. He blinked his sleepy eyes and struggled to keep them open.

"I think it's time for Teddy to go to bed," Sirius said.

"Why don't we stay here tonight and go to Malfoy Manor in the morning?" Harry suggested, rubbing soothing circles on Ginny's back. She was once again quiet, no longer sobbing into Harry's shoulder.

"James Potter!" A loud disapproving voice rent the air. The group turned, feeling as if they had been caught out of the common room after curfew and flinched, despite not attending Hogwarts in a long while.

Minerva McGonagall stood there, hands on her hips, lips pinched, looking all for the world like the Morrigan, an Irish goddess who retrieved the souls of dying warriors from the field of battle.

"Minnie!" He said exuberantly if not a trifle cautiously, walking towards the elder witch with his arms open wide. "You look as young and dazzling as ever,"

"I remember specifically telling you and Regulus not even a week ago that once Voldemort was dead, you would have to stay at the safe house for another week, to be on the safe side. Who let you out? Hermione would never be so irresponsible!"

"But it was like a dungeon in there. Can't you be happy that I reunited with my son? And just imagine what it would be like to have Sirius back in my life,"

She narrowed her eyes and slightly shuddered before turning away, muttering about how glad she was that both men were too old to attend Hogwarts and she could wash her hands of them. Once she was several steps away and was sure no one could see, she grinned, happy for the men who had been waiting so long for this moment, men who were assumed to be dead for the last twenty years. An extra jaunt entered her step as she sought out her tent to clean up, change, and sleep until she was unable to sleep any longer.

"Ha!" James said quietly, glancing at Sirius who was grinning just as fully. "Knew she liked us…"

Regulus shook his head but smiled none the less.

"If we are going to stay here the night, we should probably find a place to sleep."

"Oh! Follow me," Ginny said wiping her red blotchy face with her hands.

**HGHG**

Hermione beat the rest of the group inside Malfoy Manor by seconds, all but running to the drawing room where they had laid out what they believed to be Bellatrix's body, pausing at the sight that met her eyes.

Eliza was holding Bellatrix tightly, stroking her hair, as the once Death Eater lay catatonic on her lap.

"Bellatrix?" Hermione demanded. Bellatrix focused on her and smiled weakly. "How is this possible?"

"Sigurd," Bellatrix croaked, closing her weary eyes.

"I'm here," Sigurd said from the doorway. "her magic has been strained. It is like looking into a bright light before entering a dark room and wondering why one is blinded. She needs rest and potions and a lot of care."

"Will she be able to do magic again?" Eliza asked.

"Only time will tell."

Lucius and Sigurd took Bellatrix to one of the many rooms available and laid her on the bed, mixed feelings swirling in their heads. On the one hand, Bellatrix saved Hermione and on the other, she tortured her. Relying on Bellatrix Black Lestrange was a dangerous business. Lucius had seen her turn on many others over the course of the years, first hand.

The door opened quickly and Narcissa rushed in followed quickly by Severus, a pained look on both of their faces. Narcissa approached the bed of her sleeping sister, tracing the outlines of the light purple scars that swirled over her own face. Scars that hadn't faded and never would.

"She should not be alive," Narcissa said but instead of relief and wonder, her voice was laced with disapproval and accusation.

"You are right," Sigurd agreed. "She should have died a long time ago but if she had, where would we all be now?"

"Still skulking under the Dark Lord, I am sure," Severus said, barring his teeth, understanding that Sigurd must have had something to do with her status as the new Lazarus. *

"She needs rest. I feel that I must remind you that over the last few days, she has been tortured, killed, and brought back. I think you will find her much altered when she wakes." Sigurd said.

"And when will that be?" Narcissa pressed, settling herself gingerly on the bed next to Bellatrix.

"There really is no way of knowing."

**HGHG**

Darkness surrounded the Manor and the moans of the healing and wounded sounded eerier with the sun's absence. Hermione laid Bast in the tiny cot that the elves had found from Draco's baby things and tucked the tiny tot in, hoping that the boy would sleep through the night. For longer than she cared to admit, she debated the use of a silencing charm so that he wouldn't be disturbed if she woke in the night but discarded it in the same thought. She would be unable to hear him if he woke up and that was not something that she felt would be good for him.

What a crazy day they had! When it started out all they stood shoulder to shoulder outside of the gate of Hogwarts. Now, Voldemort was no longer a threat and her family returned safely. Bellatrix inexplicably survived, Harry's dad and Regulus both were alive and out of the prison-like safe house that Dumbledore trapped them in. Her mother, Eliza was alive, but her father didn't make it. Bastillion lost both his mother and father on the same day, much like Harry had when his mother's sacrifice destroyed Voldemort in 1981. And to top all that off, Voldemort was still alive in the form of this small boy whom she would protect with every fiber of her being.

Her head swam with the day's events and she slid to the floor next to the bed, leaning against the heavy frame, cradling her head on her folded arms. She heard the door creak open and peaked up at the light that filtered in the dark room.

Draco stood there, looking around the room, searching for her.

"Here," Hermione murmured, beckoning him to join her on the floor. Moments later, he was next to her, pulling her onto his lap. She straddled him and threaded her fingers into his silky blond hair.

Draco's lips parted, and his eyes dilated as she leaned in, closing the distance between them. She needed to taste him, breath him in, settle the fear that had lodged deep within her at the thought of losing him. Hermione rolled her hips over his, dragging out a low moan. She pulled his hair, forcing his head back to bare his throat to her worshipful lips.

Flicking her tongue out, she teased and tasted him, desperate to fill her entire soul with him. Pulling at the fabric of his well-tailored robes, she struggled to undress him. His hands replaced hers as he deftly undid the buttons, watching with needy eyes as she divested herself of her own clothes, leaving herself only in her knickers, bra, and garters with stockings.

Hermione attacked the button on his trousers as he shrugged out of the robes, discarding them on the floor around them. Her breath hitched as she palmed his hard cock, stroking it lovingly, freeing it from its confining fabric prison.

Pushing herself off of his lap, Hermione leaned down and ran her tongue over his glans, prodding the salty slit with the tip. His gasp was accompanied by his hands landing lightly on her head. It was obviously a struggle for him to remain passive, letting her do as she wanted to him. Wanting to reward his efforts, Hermione wrapped her mouth around his shaft, sucking and licking, driving him wild.

She could feel herself grow wet, half out of her mind with desire. Draco grabbed one of her thighs and moved her closer, running his fingers over her needy quim. Her knickers were ruined, completely soaked, and was getting worse as his fingers teased her through the skimpy fabric that covered her. She moaned around his cock that was buried deep in her mouth which set him off with his own senseless groaning.

Hermione pulled her lips off of his cock and crawled back into his lap, moving the fabric of her knickers to the side. She needed him and refused to wait even a moment longer. Dragging his hands up her legs, Draco settled them on her hips before leaning forward to take one of her rosy nipples in his mouth. His teeth scraped lightly against the hard peaks and she thrust her chest out, her head hanging back, as she enjoyed the attention he paid her body.

Her hand squeezed his erection between them before teasing herself with his tip, gently pushing him between her slick folds. She sank on him gratefully, basking in the feelings of being full and the fact that it was just so right.

"Exquisite," a husky voice murmured from the doorway. Hermione glanced at the silhouette of the man in the doorway and smiled, lifting her body before sinking back down on Draco, exaggerating her movements to give the newly arrived voyeur a good show. If Draco heard their visitor, he didn't show it, keeping himself busy as he moved from one breast to the other.

The man entered the room, moving into the light, as he unbuttoned his own robes. Hermione couldn't tear her eyes away from Lucius as he watched her ride Draco's cock. He opened the placket of his trousers and gripped his cock in his fist, pumping slowly to the time of their lovemaking. He seemed in no hurry to join but his eyes were glued to the vision of a hard cock sinking into her wet pussy.

Hermione tore her gaze from Lucius' and threaded her fingers back into Draco's hair, pulling him off of her breasts, and licking his lips, nipping them, teasing them open to plunder. Draco sucked her plump bottom lip into his mouth before moving his hand up to the nape of her neck and pulling her closer, sweeping his tongue into her mouth, battling hers for dominance. The only sound in the room was heavy breathing, the slap of flesh on flesh, and the rhythmic moaning that kept escaping her throat.

With a growl, Draco flipped her, laying her gently on her back on the cool wood floor. He pulled her legs up onto his shoulders and leaned into her, hands planted on either side of her. They panted in ecstasy at the new, tighter, deeper angle. Hermione turned her head to watch Lucius watch them while he stroked himself.

She felt the pressure of impending orgasm coil in her groin and held Lucius' gaze as she shattered.

"Draco," She gasped, gripping his cock in a tight vice as the muscles in her pussy clenched around him. "Oh, God!" she chanted over and over as she felt Draco repeatedly hit her over-sensitized clit and grow heavier, impossibly larger in her. Draco stilled for a moment as he coated her quim with his seed, rocking into her for several moments, milking himself dry.

"You could have joined in," Draco's hoarse voice carried through the nearly silent room. Both Hermione and Draco were looking at Lucius who had slowed his pumping fist.

"And why would I want to disturb such a delectable sight?"

Draco chuckled weakly, pulling out of Hermione and winking at her, rising to his feet. "You are not the only one who likes to watch," he murmured to Lucius as he passed, heading to the bathroom and the warm water that awaited him. He looked back at Hermione and smirked, "Join me when you are ready,"

Silence filled the room again until the bathroom door closed and the sound of the tub filling with water rolled over them.

"Are you going to make me take care of this on my own?" Lucius asked, pinning Hermione to the floor with his iron gaze, once again stroking his cock. She smiled and spread her legs, showing him her folds as she lazily ran her fingers over herself, coating them with Draco's seed. Her breath caught as she circled the small bundle of nerves, moving faster and faster as she built up for another round.

"Fuck," He whispered and unable to bear the distance between them, he left his solitary position against the bed frame. He fell to his knees in-between her legs but before he could move any closer, Hermione planted a dainty foot on his chest.

"Not yet," she moaned, her quick fingers picking up speed and her head tossed from side to side, drowning in sensation as Lucius watched her bring herself unimaginable pleasure. Lifting her foot from his chest to his mouth, he kissed the arch, before sucking her toe into his mouth. That was all it took for Hermione to climax, shuddering as his tongue caressed and his mouth sucked.

Lucius kissed his way up her leg, up over her mons, in between her breasts, up her neck, all to capture her lips as he plunged into her over and over again. He fucked her into the wood under her body, endeavoring to sink as far into her as possible.

Raking his back with her nails as she strived to pull him closer, she wrapped her legs around him, letting him work them both hard. Their bodies glistened with sweat, and a river of praises dropped from his lips.

"You feel so good, so tight," He murmured. "Such a good girl… know exactly what you do to me…Minx…Love…Your body was made for this… For me…So perfect,"

She was always a sucker for praise and came around him surprising them both with its intensity and speed.

"Fuck yes!" He growled, thrusting hard as he came with her, his mouth dropping open with abandon. They laid together, legs tangled, as they caught their breath. Lucius dropped small kisses on her shoulder and held her tightly.

"Shall we join Draco now?" Hermione mumbled, quickly falling asleep despite the uncomfortable position.

"You can, Sweetheart. I am looking for Abraxas and got sidetracked."

After another moment, Lucius stood, putting himself back to rights before holding out a hand to help Hermione to her feet. She slid her hand into his and huffed a chuckle as he effortlessly pulled her to her feet. Cupping his jaw, she leaned into him and planted a sweet kiss on his smiling lips.

"Maybe you should come back to me once you find Abraxas," She whispered and started toward the bathroom to join Draco. She yelped in surprise as he smacked her arse.

"Tease," Lucius whispered back before turning around and leaving the room, still adjusting his robes.

Hermione pushed the bathroom door open and breathed deeply the spicy masculine scent that rolled out. Draco was in the tub, his arms draped over the sides, hungry eyes admiring the lines of her curvaceous body.

"I hope he didn't tire you out too much,"

Hermione smirked and lifted her first leg up to the toilet, rolling the silk down her legs, watching him watch her.

**HGHG**

Abraxas walked into the Manor and straight to the observation room. Something Sigurd had said to him the night before the battle was bothering him, but he could put his finger on what exactly was making him uneasy. They had been talking about getting back into the room with the diamond enclosure and Sigurd had laughed claiming that the door was like a woman who needed a gentle touch and that no amount of magic could truly seal it off.

The door was still welded shut from Hermione's magic but this time instead of trying to blast through the nearly impenetrable door, he caressed its edges, searching for a button or groove or anything that may be a way to get through.

With a shout of triumph, Abraxas prodded a small round button on the opposite side of the button that the elves used to open the door. Instantly the stone moved, creating an archway to the spiral stairs that descended to the secret room that housed Sigurd and his treasures for a thousand years.

The tightly wound steps were slick with algae and water runoff that penetrated through untold layers of magic. He couldn't remember the steps being coated in the stagnant water the last time he had used them, but he hadn't exactly been focused on the stones beneath his feet.

Once he reached the bottom, he noticed the wooden and iron door stood ajar, torches lit around the room. He stepped in warily. The opulence of the room was dulled as he zeroed on the single glass vial and pensieve that sat atop the now empty enclosure that Sigurd used to preserve his body. The vial was filled nearly to the brim with silvery memory and it beckoned him. Dumping the memory into the basin, Abraxas pushed brutally against the rising feelings of panic, knowing that such a thing was not going to bode well. He pushed his face into the surface and free fell into the exact room he began in.

Sigurd stepped up to the door that changed his entire life and lifted his hand to press against the buttery wood. He hated this door just as much as he loved it. There was a price to pay when using this type of magic and he always cautioned his progeny against its use, for good reason. But there were promises to be kept, prices to pay, for knowledge that he had gleaned from the crone, Hecate.

He closed his eyes and prayed that this was the last time he needed to use the door and that he would leave Hecate's presence alive. With a deep breath, he stepped through and blinked against the black veil that surrounded him.

"You did well," the crone rasped. "she lives."

"I would have done anything to protect Hermione."

Hecate cackled, raising the hair on the back of his neck.

"Even going so far as to give a killer a second chance at life? Why?"

"Because my visions gave me a fifty-fifty chance of Hermione's survival without our alliance. Because without Bellatrix, Hermione won't survive what's coming. You will bring her back to life and she will live with purpose. Hermione will have Bellatrix's loyalty even more ironclad then when Voldemort had her."

"Do you know why I would break all the rules to interfere?"

"I have my suspicions,"

"Bellatrix is the catalyst. Without my interference, she would have died in the Malfoy dungeons that first day. I control the room. Did you think the torture chamber was truly sentient? Without me, Bellatrix would never have saved Hermione's life. Without Hermione who reminds me so much of Emrys, would anyone truly have survived my grief?"

Sigurd looked horrified, realizing the extent of the magical reach of the ancient crone.

"How is that possible? It is Malfoy family magic that powers that chamber."

"Magic is magic is magic." The old crone cackled, showing her blackened and cracked teeth.

"You gave me hope all those years ago when I was certain I would never live to see the day Hermione would be in my arms. And at that time, you promised me that I would live to marry her but there would be a hefty price if I was willing to pay it. You have kept your end of the bargain, what is your price?"

"Time is a funny thing and its something you and I have in common. Two time-wizards in love with exceptionally powerful counterparts. I was not able to marry my Emrys but you, you could marry her." The crone struck a match and lit the candle, wrinkling her nose at the acrid scent of the incendiary tip as it burst into flames. She shook the smoking stick and placed it on the table next to the now gleaming candle that she could have lit with magic. "I am as old as the world and there is a price to pay for such longevity. Even I am not immune to nature's call. Death hovers and it sings to me in the dark abyss of all the years I spent alone. I was trapped here, forced to navigate the waters of time and host those that came through the wood. At first, I wanted to use you, trap you here, so that I could walk free among our kind once more but through the long ages, I have grown attached to you and your story. It's very romantic, crossing the span of a thousand years to be with the woman you love. If I could do that to be with Emrys again, I would."

"What price shall I pay?" Sigurd asked, standing stiffly just outside the soft circle of light cast by the solitary candle on the table.

"A token really, a trifle. All I want from you is five years. Stay here, host the room, let me sleep for a half decade, and you can go free at the end of it."

Bile rose in the back of his throat.

"What if I don't want to stay? I only just met Hermione, tearing us apart now could destroy what I have already tentatively built."

"There is one way," The crone murmured, a frightening smile pulled the wrinkled skin of her cheeks taut.

"What is it?"

"If your beloved can rescue you from the room, you can go free. But be aware, the moment she enters the room with the intention of freeing you, the room will start to drain your magic and she will be forced to navigate the room to defeat it. Many have tried to cheat the room, and none have succeeded. Good Luck, Viking."

"Will you let me go back first and ensure that she lives through the final battle tomorrow?"

"Of course, get your affairs in order but the moment it is over, you must come to me or I will take more than just five years. Also," Hecate chuckled. "you mustn't tell a soul where you are going, that would be cheating."

He bowed slightly at the waist before backing away, toward life and Hermione and the war. All the while, desperately searching for a way to let Hermione know what would become of him. His face pinched with stress until it hit him that Hecate was a creature that was bound by her words and she had said that he must not tell a soul. If he could not tell anyone what was going to happen, then he would leave a memory instead.

Abraxas pulled himself out of the memory and held the enclosure for support. Just when he thought it was all over and his family was safe, life bitch slapped him back to reality. When would it end? He gritted his teeth and went off in search of Hermione, the only one that could save Sigurd from being five years alone and magically drained, in Hecate's lair.

**HGHG**

Hermione woke with a fright, panic shooting through her veins at the feel of a large calloused hand over her mouth.

"Don't panic, it's me," the deep voice whispered in her ear so quietly that if not for the hand, would have thought it merely a dream.

"Sigurd? Is something wrong?" She breathed in confusion.

"I need to talk to you alone. I didn't want to wake Draco."

"There are better ways of waking me that don't include scaring me to death," she grumbled uncharitably.

"Perhaps," he murmured, and she could hear the amusement in his voice at the agreement and she gnashed her teeth in annoyance. She only had two sacred rules: feed her when she was hungry, and let her sleep if she were already sleeping. The consequences of breaking such a rule were dire and those that broke these two rules forfeited their lives. Even Harry and Ron learned that early on.

Once Hermione closed the bedroom door behind her, he took her hand and towed her down the hall to his room where they wouldn't be disturbed. Every protection was set on the door and room before he turned back to her.

"What is going on Sigurd?" Hermione asked half annoyed, half concerned.

"Do you like me?"

"You brought me here to ask me how I felt about you? What time is it?"

"Please," he murmured, moving closer and raising his hands to her shoulders and rubbing the tops of her arms.

"Okay," she sighed. "Yes, I like you."

"Do you want me as a husband?"

"I," she shuddered and stopped, fear rising in her throat. He was starting to scare her. This wasn't the slow seduction that she expected from him, in fact, this seemed desperate. Even still, she wouldn't lie to him. She wasn't sure when she made the decision but made it she had. "yes."

"Thank the gods," Sigurd pulled her into his chest and sighed heavily in relief, his breath setting the curls at her temple into a wild dance.

"What the hell is going on Sigurd? Does this have anything to do with your disappearance last night?"

"I can't tell you, but Abraxas should know by now. Find him after you leave me."

"Then we should go find him now, together,"

"No," Sigurd said as he cupped her jaw and brought her face up to his. He leaned in so close that they were breathing the same air, lips centimeters apart. "tonight, you're mine."

*In Christian rhetoric, Lazarus was raised from the dead by Jesus.

Chapter Text

22

Previously:

"No," Sigurd said as he cupped her jaw and brought her face up to his. He leaned in so close that they were breathing the same air, lips centimeters apart. "tonight, you're mine."

**HGHG**

"Okay," Hermione murmured seconds before his lips were on hers. He picked her up and pushed her against the nearest wall, cupping her arse and pulling her into his erection.

His tongue invaded her mouth, hot and needy, coaxing hers to dance with his. Their breathing became erratic and stifled as he moved closer, pinning her between his hard body and the wall.

"Sigurd," Hermione whispered.

Her fingertips traced his collarbone, and down over his pectorals. The muscles flexed under her soft touch. There was something just so raw and dangerous about him. It was like a drug that she couldn't quit. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he had wanted her so much that he gave up his whole entire life for the possibility of them being together. He crossed a continent, a thousand years, and left everyone he knew and loved behind, for her.

These thoughts swirled in her head, her fingers leaving their teasing trail to pull and rip at his clothes. She was burning and the only thing that would quench the fire was his naked skin pressed against hers and his tongue and cock buried deep within her body.

Soon enough, he was naked and with a wave of his own hand, she was as bare as he. Hermione pushed at his chest, moving him far enough away so that several empty spaces hung between them. His gaze was hot and his breathing rapid, his chest rising and falling as if he had just finished a marathon. His only sign of acknowledgment that she had pushed him away was the single raised brow that Hermione decided was actually a hereditary habit, having seen every single one of her men do it at one point or another.

Holding his stare, Hermione approached slowly, refusing to let him reach out and touch her. She swatted his hand every time he tried. Lightly, she ran her palms over his shoulders, down his chest, letting her nails nick his hardened nipples. Where her hands roamed, her mouth followed.

The way he sucked in his breath as she licked over the hard ridges of his abs drove her wild, her own body reacting to how sensitive he was. She dropped to her knees before him and her hands followed her downward path, stopping to rest on his muscular thighs. She could feel the powerful muscles clench under her fingers and she ran her nails over the taut skin and around to his buttocks, where she sank her fingers into the firm flesh. She ignored his straining cock, breathing on him, teasing him. Taking a deep breath, she blew cold air on his bobbing erection, drawing a tortured moan out of him.

"Woman," He warned through gritted teeth.

"Man," She said playfully, smiling up at him from her kneeling position. She was so close that her lips kept brushing the underside of his glans. With each whispered touch, his jaw flexed.

"Please," He begged, threading his fingers through her hair. "Please use that beautiful mouth on my cock,"

"Like this?" she asked as she kissed a trail up from the bottom of his shaft.

"Ah," he muttered unintelligibly, his whole body strained and begged for more.

With a smile, Hermione finally touched him, wrapping her hand around the base of his cock and leaned in to lick the weeping tip.

He hissed a quickly indrawn breath and gathered her hair with one hand, eyes intense as he watched her enclose her lips around his shaft. She went down as far as she could go and back up in one slow smooth motion. His musk surrounded her, merging with the scent of her own arousal, and Hermione closed her eyes as she enjoyed the taste of him and the throaty growls that her ministrations were eliciting. Her own body hot and needy.

One of her hands held on to his bum for dear life, using him as leverage to help her slide further and further down his cock. She sucked him hard and nearly gagged as he unconsciously thrust into her mouth. He dropped her hair and threaded his fingers in the wild mane, holding her head still as she sucked, dominating her. Hermione slid her hand from the base of his shaft to cup his ballocks. She tried to keep up, sucking and tongue swirling but the faster he thrust into her mouth, the harder it was. But she trusted him to know how much she could handle and she knew he would never hurt her.

It was then he pulled her off of him, using his thumb to wipe the corner of her lips. He had her in his arms within seconds, legs wrapped around his torso, and she was again pressed against the wall. He impaled her on his impatient cock only to withdraw until only the tip kept them connected, never giving her a second to adjust. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him, trying to roll her hips into his. Every stroke was hard and fast, and Hermione rode the waves of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm her. Never had anything been as intense as this.

"Not enough," He growled and swung them away from the wall, supporting her by her arse. The bed was under her in moments and he pulled her to the edge, sinking into her wet pussy. Each thrust moved her up the bed and she threw her hands above her head, fisting the bedding, trying gain some leverage.

"Better," he mumbled, watching his cock glisten as he sunk in and out of her body. "Touch yourself," He commanded.

Hermione did as she was told, letting go of the bedding to cup her own breasts and roll the nipples between her forefinger and thumbs.

"Merlin! Yes!" he said, snapping his hips harder, his eyes glued to her fleshy mounds that jiggled with each thrust.

With a quirk of her brows, Hermione guided one of her nipples to her own mouth, licking the rosy tip into an even harder nub.

"Fuck me!" Sigurd gasped, eyes glazing as he watched her red tongue flick over her hard, pink nipple. The veins in his neck bulged as he stared at her, determined to wait for her pleasure to peak.

He pulled out of her and mounted the bed, sitting against the headboard and half dragged Hermione to reverse straddle his lap. Hermione looked over her shoulder as he guided his steel rod into her sopping channel; pressing up into her; his hands gripping her hips.

They weren't like that for long, as the slow pace was too frustrating for him. He pushed her down so that her face and chest was flat on the bed, but her bum was up, and she was spread before his gaze. He leaned in, dropping kisses on her bum and thighs, breathing in her arousal.

He licked her, savoring her taste, and circled her clit with his tongue.

"Sigurd, Please!" She demanded or begged or cried. She was so close, so damn close that she knew it wouldn't take much to careen off the edge and dive head first into bliss.

"Soon, Elskede," he promised. There was no teasing in his voice, only assurance.

Her legs began to quake, and he pulled away, earning a frustrated scream from Hermione.

"Don't fucking stop!" She yelled. "Don't ever stop!"

Sigurd prodded her folds with his cock, teasing her opening for a few seconds before thrusting to the hilt. Both of their eyes closed, agony and pleasure warring for dominance. He buried himself in her needy body, over and over and over again as he strove to climax with her.

Seconds before he lost control, Hermione screamed a long loud keening as she came, her body clamping down around his. She was lost in a haze of euphoria, her lubrication now running down their thighs, and he was right there with her, pulsating in her pussy and coating her with his hot ropes of seed.

"You have no idea how long I have waited for this," his strangled admission fell breathy from his lips. "It was so much better than I ever anticipated."

"Was it worth it?" Hermione asked tiredly, amusement heavily colored her voice.

He chuckled. "I would cross any ocean, forge through time, leave it all behind, if only for the promise that this will never end." He kissed her spine and pulled out of her, his cock spent and softened. He ran his hands over her bum, studying her rosy and swollen folds, admiring his trickling seed.

"Velsigne oss." * He murmured and laid down, pulling Hermione into him, curling around her in a safe, muscular cocoon.

"What was that?" Hermione asked sleepily.

"Nothing, Elskede. Rest," Sigurd tightened his arms around her body and pulled her closer, burying his face in her curls. It was cruel that when he finally had her, he had to let her go. There was nothing he wanted more than to stay like this, with her, for the rest of his life. But he had promises to keep and miles to go before he could sleep. *

**HGHG**

Hermione woke up with a start and looked around, confused that she was in Draco's bed. He had his arm around her hips and he began mumbling at the disturbance. Hermione shook her head wondering if her encounter with Sigurd had only been a dream. Her spirits plummeted. It had been incredible. Just as incredible as sex was with Lucius, Abraxas, and Draco had always been. Their chemistry was indescribable. There was just something about these men that set her blood to boiling, both with anger and passion. Never had she experienced such chemistry with anyone and she would have claimed only months ago that it was impossible. This type of love didn't exist. Except, here was living proof. Four men who proved her cynical mind wrong.

Hermione ran her hands down her body and slid the tip of her middle finger in her slit, rubbing the throbbing bead she found. Dipping her fingers in her quim, she spread her juices over her clit before bringing her finger up to her face, a thoughtful frown marring her brow. Her tongue darted out, tasting the digit and let a delighted smile transform her face. It was real, and this was proof. Sigurd tasted salty and musky; a taste that was unique to him. He must have brought her back here once she fell asleep.

"That is so fucking hot," Draco murmured in her ear, capturing her finger and sucking the appendage into his own mouth. His brows rose as he tasted another man on her and looked at her in bemused question.

"Sigurd woke me last night… and… yeah," she turned her face away and blushed. Draco's fingers grabbed her chin gently and turned her back so that he could look her in the eye.

"You don't have to explain anything to me. Once Sigurd awoke, we knew that he was one of us, one of yours, and we have already accepted him. All four of us intend on being with you for the rest of our lives. We all love and care for you and we all want to feast on your charms. There is no room for jealousy here."

"If I remember correctly," Hermione began. "it wasn't that long ago that you, Abraxas, and Lucius could barely move without being jealous."

"Yes… Well… Abraxas has a theory about that."

"And?"

"Now, don't freak out," He said sitting up and Hermione's eyes went wide. Why would she freak out? What was he was going to tell her that was so terrible? She swallowed nervously. "We think, and this is just a guess, but we think If you shag all of us at the same time, we will no longer be jealous of each other."

"And why would he think that?"

"Well, the jealousy kind of just disappeared between him and me ever since that one night the three of us slept together."

"How would that even work?" Hermione asked.

"Well," He smirked but it quickly turned into a cautious pleading. "I'm sure we could all figure it out. I promise we would make sure you enjoyed every bloody second."

"You want this? Lucius will be there, naked and doing things to me."

"I really don't fucking care. My only focus is you. And I am positive he would agree."

"And Abraxas?"

"It was his bloody idea,"

Hermione turned to him and cupped his face.

"I'll do it on one condition,"

"Anything."

"Spend the day with me, take my mind off the losses and war and everything."

Draco cut her off and said, "Deal!" a huge grin on his face. "and I know exactly how to start!"

"Oh?" she asked. His exuberance was infectious, and Hermione couldn't help but return his smile.

"First, we will check on the devil-spawn that is now my son, then I am taking you out of the manor!"

Hermione slapped his shoulder as he laughed and wrinkled her nose. "Bast is not the devil's spawn!"

"No?"

"No!"

"Fine. But you didn't have to live with him for a year while he was at his worst."

"Oh, just wait. Threes and fours are the hell years."

"There is one huge glaring difference,"

"What's that?"

"Now that I am his Daddy, he is not going to pull the bull shite on me that he did when I was alive the first time."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You need to stop thinking of him as if he is just the baby version of Tom Riddle. It's not true you know. Bast is in there somewhere and any child of Luna's is bound to have a good soul."

"Blood has no bearing on whether a person is good or evil."

"You're right. Its one's choices. Luckily, he now has such a strong support system that will raise him to be a good man."

"If anyone could do it, it would be you, Granger."

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Call me Granger?"

"It's your name, isn't it?"

"For now," She mumbled

"For now?" He asked, his eyes wild and dark with barely suppressed lust and jubilation.

"I was under the impression that it was the wish of the Malfoy family to marry me."

"It is! Oh Merlin, yes! Marry me, us, now, today!"

"Not today! Today, I am spending the day getting to know you, my future husband. We were never on the best of terms at Hogwarts and I want to know the real you, not the angry jealous version that lashes out at Harry and Ron all the time. I was also thinking that the wizarding world has lost so much and spent years under the oppressive rule of Voldemort. They deserve a celebration that will last a week or more. Food, entertainment, games, competition. I was thinking about using the model of a Roman festival. We deserve this."

"That sounds amazing. We won't have to wait the whole week to take you to bed though, will we?"

"Because I am making you all wait so long now," She said sarcastically, and he chuckled nodding his head.

"True,"

"So, what do you think?"

"About the sex? It's great!"

"No! About the festival,"

"When were you thinking?"

"Two weeks from yesterday?"

"Good luck convincing my mother that it is enough time to throw something so grand." Draco murmured into the skin of her neck, obviously hiding a smirk.

"Mmmm." Hermione closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of his five o'clock shadow against the column of her throat.

A loud knock sounded on the door and Draco made a loud rude comment that only made the interloper laugh before swinging the door open. Abraxas stood there, dressed to the nines, not a single hair out of place.

"I've been looking for you two everywhere, Love, Draco." He said as he sat in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, crossing his leg over his knee as if he had absolutely nothing better to do.

"Really? And why is that?" Hermione asked, slightly annoyed at the interruption.

"I came upon something that I think you will find interesting." He pulled a small glass vial out of his robe pocket and handed it to Hermione.

"What is it?" Draco asked.

"Our latest family crisis," Abraxas muttered with distaste. "Apparently Sigurd made some sort of deal with Hecate and in repayment, he has to spend five years in her lair, guarding the door."

"You have a plan," guessed Hermione.

Abraxas smirked, arrogance radiated off of him. "I've been thinking about this issue since it came to my attention last night. Of course, I have a plan."

"Well?" Hermione asked impatiently.

"In the memory, Hecate mentioned a way around his five-year sentence. If you enter the room and defeat it, Sigurd is free, but she warned that the moment you enter the room with the intention of reclaiming him, it will start to drain his magic. The room will maneuver and manipulate so that it will win. Draining a wizard of magic completely can do two things. It will either kill him or it will turn him squib. But if there is even one spark left, it can fully regenerate. That is the beauty of magic," Abraxas said.

"So, you are saying that I need to beat the room, whatever that means, and pull Sigurd out before he loses his magic?"

"Yes, but you won't be going alone. This is a family matter and there is nothing Malfoys do better than protect their own."

Draco's eyes sparkled with determination as he lifted her hand and lovingly kissed the back of it and said, "you will never have to battle alone. We will always have your back."

"Where is Sigurd? Perhaps we should bring him in and find out exactly what is going on."

"No can do, Love," Abraxas said. "First of all, Hecate forbid him with magic from saying anything. This memory was his way of letting us know what was going on and two, Sigurd is already gone, trapped inside the room."

"What!" Hermione screeched as she jumped up from the bed, ignoring the fact that she was completely naked. "Why didn't come get us sooner?"

"Because we need to take our time and really think this through. I've been up almost all night thinking about this."

"Exactly! We should have been planning together!"

"You are probably right," Abraxas murmured in amusement. "but who is going to care for Bastillion?"

Hermione sat back down on the bed, brow furrowed.

"As I was considering this last night, I came to several conclusions. First is that you, Hermione, must go. Second is that one of our family needs to stay with Bast. And lastly, since we have no idea how time will move, we need to prepare as if we are never returning in this lifetime. Truth is we could die trying to get him out. Another option is that we wait out the five years to get Sigurd back."

"I can't leave Bast here," Hermione muttered completely ignoring the last 'option'.

"You want to take him into the room?"

"Would it be better to leave him here, surrounded by people who hate him because of the soul trapped inside of him?"

"That's why one of us should stay."

"And who would you choose? I need all of you."

"I have the most experience with children, and I have the ability to defend him from any threat."

"I have a better idea," She said with a sugary sweet smile and mischief in her eyes.

**HGHG**

"I would rather stay behind," Abraxas muttered as he pulled at the long colorful wrap that kept Bast snug against his chest. The boy was sleeping with complete bliss while his ear was pressed just over Abraxas' heart.

"You said that it would be best if you cared for Bast. When my cousin Lola had a baby five years ago, she swore by this. Said she wouldn't have been able to get half of what she needed to do, accomplished. I know Bast is a little older, but it should do the job. Between the four of us, it should be alright."

Hermione stood back and smiled at her handiwork, enjoying perhaps a bit too much how uncomfortable Abraxas was with the brightly designed geometric print that looked odd against his black trousers and blue button down.

"Don't you think it's a little irresponsible taking him?" Lucius asked from the other side, not even bothering to hide his amusement.

"Maybe we should take a second wrap. We can switch from time to time so that one person isn't burdened." Hermione said, ignoring Lucius.

"Good Idea," Draco said seriously, his head tilted to the side and tapped his finger on his chin as he stared at Abraxas. "I think we should have Lucius bring the hot pink one. It will look lovely with his skin tone."

Lucius dropped his grin to turn a glare on Draco. "Don't forget son, that you and I have the same exact coloring."

"I have the least experience with children, what if I drop him?"

"How do you think we got experience? By choosing to watch children in our spare time? No. Our sons were born, and we were forced to learn. Since this is your first time being a father, Draco, perhaps you should be the one to carry him." Abraxas drawled and reached for the large knot around his belly. Draco held his hands up.

"No can do! Even I know that when a child sleeps, you leave them to it. Wouldn't want to stunt his growth."

Hermione rolled her eyes and hid her smile. No matter how much they bantered, she knew they were on board with taking Bast. If they weren't, they would dig in their heels and refuse point-blank to consider it.

"We won't know what we will find until we get there," Hermione said. "but Hecate expended a lot of energy to make sure I lived through the war. I have a feeling that she won't allow the room to actually harm me. Maybe I should go alone…"

"No. Without you, we have no life. Literally. If you die, we all perish. It is our job to make sure that you survive so that our family can rise again, better than we ever were." Lucius said as he walked up behind her and rubbed her arms, leaning in to kiss her neck. "If you don't survive, the Malfoy family will be extinguished, and you will be to blame."

"That is manipulation, Lucius," she muttered, leaning her head back on his shoulder as his mouth moved along the column of her throat.

"Is it working?" He asked between kisses.

"Knowing doesn't make me immune, unfortunately, especially if you keep kissing me like that."

He smiled into her skin. "Wonderful,"

"We might as well go now while Bast is sleeping," Abraxas said over his shoulder as he shrunk the supplies they had packed and put them in his pocket. "There is only so much we can plan for since we don't really know what we are walking into."

"What is new? Isn't that what we have been doing this whole time?" Hermione arched her brow.

Abraxas shrugged his shoulders and led the way, looking back only once when he reached the observation room. At the bottom of the winding stairs, they gathered, looking solemn before raising their hands to the door together, fingers entwined.

**HGHG**

Harry pushed open the front door of Malfoy Manor and went from room to room, yelling for Hermione. After two hours of searching, the only people he found were Snape, Narcissa, and Bellatrix's comatose body. Vaguely, he wondered where Eliza had gone, but it left his mind quickly as the hunt for Hermione continued. Perhaps, they were together, wherever they were.

"Where did they go?" Harry muttered to himself as he walked into the room that Hermione had been using. On her bedside table, he noticed a small parchment rolled tightly and secured with a bright red ribbon, Harry's name in big bold red ink. Harry groaned as he unrolled the note. He had a bad feeling about this.

As he read the note, panic swirled in his stomach.

"Fuck," He whispered as he crumpled the parchment before setting it on fire, stalking out of the room as if the hounds of hell were on his heels.

**HGHG**

Hermione, Abraxas, Lucius, and Draco stepped into the dark room and approached the table, a single flame dancing in an otherworldly rhythm. Sigurd sat behind the table, a small smile on his lips. Hermione reached for him, intending on pulling him back through the void and into Malfoy Manor. The second she lifted her foot to do just that, the room swirled around them, dropping them on a lone barren hill outside of a maze. The biggest maze she ever saw.

The hedges rose so high, she doubted that even their magic could float them high enough to see over them. She rather thought that was the point.

They walked to the large gate that separated them from running the labyrinth and stared at it.

"What do we do?" Draco muttered. "Alohamora?"

"Try it," Abraxas said.

"Alohamora," Draco murmured as he pointed his wand at the tall doors. Nothing happened.

Hermione nodded to herself and approached it, lifting her closed fist as she got closer. Lucius ran up behind her and stopped her from making contact with the iron.

"You can't just touch it. You have no idea what curse lies on it."

"If you want to enter, you have to ask. How do you ask? You knock!"

Draco moved past them both as she struggled against Lucius and raised his own fist and pounded on the gate.

"Yes?" a high-pitched voice asked as a tiny window opened from the inside, only large enough for them to see a brown eye that uncomfortably reminded her of a house elf.

"How do we get inside?" Draco asked.

"You say the magic words,"

"Please?" Hemione tried. Nothing happened.

"What are the magic words?" Abraxas moved to stand next to Hermione and patted her shoulder, even as Lucius kept his hand wrapped firmly around hers.

"That is for you to tell me," a different voice cackled from behind the gate. A voice they easily recognized. Hecate.

Hermione took a step back and covered her face with her free hand, going down on her haunches as she thought hard.

"I wish," Lucius whispered, and the crone cackled harder as the iron gate swung open.

Hermione turned to him and raised her brow. Lucius shook his head.

"It was something the Dark Lord said to me once, during the first war. The power of wishes. He was evil and cruel, but his mind was extraordinary."

Together they stepped through the gate, but they could not see Sigurd behind them trying to yell as thick black ropes bound and gagged him to the table where he sat, only feet behind them.

"Should we turn left or right," Hermione wondered out loud as she studied both paths, seemingly identical.

"This is a magic Labyrinth. It will not make logical sense." Abraxas muttered.

"You are saying it doesn't matter?"

"Yes,"

"How are we supposed to navigate through it then, if it doesn't make sense?"

"I said it didn't make logical sense. There are rhythms and patterns to everything. We just have to figure this one out."

"What does that even mean," she muttered mutinously. She hated when things didn't fit in the nice neat box she created in her mind about magic.

"The room is working against us and it will use our strengths against us too. In this case, it is problem-solving skills."

As the realization hit her, a horrified sick look crossed her face.

"When we step through the door, it always takes us to that black room, right? And when Hecate shows memories or prophecies, that's when the room changes. We don't actually ever leave that room. If that is true, then we are still in that room with Sigurd. The drain on his magic could potentially make him immobile. I just have to grab him and haul him out. He could be right here."

"It doesn't matter because the room could be as big as your imagination. By that reasoning, we may never find him."

"No! There is a simple solution, we just have to figure it out."

"Do you think we stepped through another portal when we walked through the iron gate?" Draco said.

"Oh my God," Hermione breathed and swung around to glance at the spot where the iron gate once stood but now showed only an unblemished hedge. "How do we get back to the room now?"

"If this is another place, then there is a door to get back to Hecate's room."

"You really believe we are no longer in the room with Sigurd?" Lucius asked Abraxas.

"It makes the most sense. If the room is not infinite, that means we walked right past him to enter the Labyrinth. If we could get back to that room, we could grab him and pull him out, even if we can't see him."

"If we are not in the room can we apparate back to the Manor?" Hermione asked. Lucius shrugged and gave it a go, pivoting on the balls of his feet only to remain solidly on the ground, exactly where he was.

"Perhaps we have to get to the center of the Labyrinth to find the door," Draco added deep in thought.

"We might as well get started then," Abraxas mumbled rubbing circled on Bast's back as he slept peacefully.

"I can't believe how easily we were tricked," Hermione grumbled as she started walking taking the path to the right. Draco and Abraxas fell into step behind her and Lucius.

"Hecate has had a thousand years to come up with her plan and she has already proven how clever she is. I have no doubt that this will be much harder than we ever anticipated." Lucius wrapped her arm around his, still refusing to let her go.

"I think this is going to push back our festival plans, Granger," Draco said. Hermione sighed. "It's probably best to give everyone time to bury their dead and mourn their loss. When we get back, that will be soon enough."

"Festival?" Lucius asked curiously, his brow rising in question. Abraxas walked behind him, a smug knowing look on his face as if there was never any other outcome.

"Hermione wants to marry us, but she wants a week-long festival of games, competition, and grand feasts." Expounded Draco, waving his hand in an arc.

"It's about time," Lucius murmured, smiling, pleased that she finally agreed to be theirs.

"It wasn't all that long ago I brought you all back from the dead. Most betrothals last years. Don't be greedy." She smirked, her nose in the air.

"You are right, Love," Abraxas said as he reached forward and tugged a curl. "You have no idea what happiness this news brings us,"

**HGHG**

Narcissa slouched in the large wingback chair next to her sister's bed and glared. She felt like a horrible person for wishing that her sister would just die but she just couldn't let go of all the times in the last few years that Narcissa been held captive. Not to mention the obvious disfigurement that was carved by Bella's own hand. She lifted her fingertips to trace the raised scars on her face.

"Am I a bad person if I say that I wished you had died," Narcissa whispered to Bella who looked like she was coming back around. Narcissa didn't know how to feel.

"No," Croaked Bella who otherwise still looked asleep. Her lips pulled weakly into a sardonic smile. "I wouldn't have blamed you for being the one who killed me, Narcissa. I was… evil," Bella stopped and took a slow pained breath. She was falling back into unconsciousness and was struggling to tell Narcissa the rest. But she slid back under before she could form her next word.

Snape walked in just as Bella lost the battle to stay awake and handed Narcissa a mug of hot tea that she cradled gratefully in between her hands.

"You don't have to stand vigil at her bedside, Cissy," Snape said as he leaned down, brushed her long blond hair behind her shoulder, and dropped a kiss on her cheek.

"I can't leave," She ground out between clenched teeth.

"Why?"

"For years, Bella has been something unrecognizable. It started with her disastrous marriage to Rodolphus and it kept getting worse year after year. She was alone because I had my own tragic marriage to deal with. But this Bella reminds me of the sweet girl she was when we were girls. I partially blame our father. Had Dromeda not married that Muggleborn, she would have married Rodolphus. To be honest, if father just accepted why Dromeda hated Lestrange, I wonder if Bella would have been better off. If there is a chance that I can have my sister back, the sister I loved as a child, shouldn't I do everything in my power to forgive her?"

"You don't have to forgive her. And you definitely don't have to forgive her right now. That is something that takes time."

"I'm afraid. I'm afraid that if I don't start repairing our relationship now, it will never happen. I am too angry, so angry. I'm angry at everyone. I'm angry at her, at Lucius, at Hermione, at the Dark Lord, at myself. If I don't start here, I fear that I will lose everyone that I love. I don't want that," She wiped at the tears that escaped over the rim of her red eyes and took a deep breath. "I want to be happy, but I have no idea how to be happy anymore. I feel like I am drowning and every time I hit the surface and drag air into my lungs, a weight pulls me back under. I claw myself back up from that infernal darkness but it's hard, so hard."

Snape pulled her up out of the chair and sat, wrapping his hands around her trim waist and guiding her to sit on his lap. He held her there, caressing her back as she silently wept. He knew what she meant. He understood her depression. But all he could do was be there for her and hold her and promise her he would never leave her because no one went through what she had. If she needed to fall apart, he would be her constant. He, himself, had hung off that cliff, holding on to the crumbling remains with his fingertips for far too long. Depression was a battle of the mind and those who trod the depths that they had, battled an enemy far greater than any other. They would climb that mountain together, one day at a time, through sheer force of will.

• Velsigne oss means Bless us in Norwegian. I rely exclusively on Google translate and apologize for any errors. The intention is that Sigurd hopes Hermione becomes pregnant from their encounter.
• Promises to keep and miles to go before he could sleep are two lines (paraphrased) from Robert Frost's poem, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.

Chapter Text

23

Previously:

Snape pulled Narcissa up out of the chair and sat, wrapping his hands around her trim waist and guided her to sit on his lap. He held her there, caressing her back as she silently wept. He knew what she meant. He understood her depression. But all he could do was be there for her and hold her and promise her he would never leave her because no one went through what she had. If she needed to fall apart, he would be her constant. He, himself, had hung off that cliff, holding on to the crumbling remains  of earth  with his  own  fingertips for far too long. Depression was a battle of the mind and those who trod the depths that they had, battled an enemy far greater than any other. And they would climb that impossible mountain together, one day at a time, through sheer force of will.

**HGHG**

Hermione looked around them and huffed. The labyrinth seemed to go on forever. They had searched for any openings and had come up empty-handed. Even the point me spell that had done so well for Harry during the Tri-Wizard Tournament failed them. The only good thing about the whole situation was that the endless hedges seemed to fascinate Bast; to the point where he just stared at the hedges while reaching out his little hand to pluck at the leaves, babbling at the leafy vegetation.

Draco began sending cutting jinxes onto the greenery, growling as the shrubbery stayed unblemished. Draco took it as the taunt that it was. The audacity of the hedgerow to not even be destructible. How rude!

Hermione just sighed and sat on the ground and pulled out a water bottle from her beaded bag, wishing that the monotony would finally end. How were they supposed to save Sigurd before his magic ran out if it took them a million years just to get past the first hurdle of the maze? She was frustrated.

"There has to be a way in," Lucius said, rubbing his forefinger on his bottom lip, deep in thought. "Magic doesn't seem to work against the hedges…" he mumbled.

Abraxas slid down the hedge to sit next to Hermione and leaned back against the greenery. Bast was over the moon at this new development, laughing his high baby laugh every time he grabbed a new shiny leaf. Hermione watched him with a soft smile on her face.

How could Bast be inherently bad with his childlike innocence still intact? Once Abraxas sat, Bast began wiggling, trying without much success to get out of Abraxas' grip.

"Let him run," Hermione murmured, sweeping the dark hair out of Bast's eyes. "It's not like he can go anywhere. And if by some miracle he finds a way through the hedges, we will just follow him."

Abraxas shrugged and loosened the wrap, letting the toddler free. Bast giggled as he jumped near the hedge, catching onto the waxy green leaves and ripping them free. He jumped and jumped, laughing freely each time his little fist closed around the foliage.

On his last jump, Draco caught him around the waist and lifted him up, much to the toddler's delight. The wide green vegetation had no chance, as Bast used both of his hands to rip and tear. Draco laughed with him, snuggling his face into the happy baby's neck.

"He's so good with him," Hermione murmured, a tender smile on her lips.

"He always wanted a brother or a sister," Lucius said as he sat down next to her. The three of them watched Draco and Bast play, resting for a few moments before continuing on.

"I just don't get it. There has to be something we are missing, something that we should know."

"Okay, well we seem to be in a labyrinth," Abraxas said. "There are two different kinds of labyrinths. The first is that there is only one path that leads to the center but there tends to be 'traps' or puzzles along the way. The second is the confusing maze with branches of pathways that could lead to a multitude of dead ends. I have a feeling that this is the second. If it were the first, we would just continue to walk the path until we found the center. This path is a straight shot, no curves or turns that would indicate a circular or square concentric."

"It could just be massive, and we haven't hit any turns yet. We can assume that we are not in a circular pattern but that doesn't mean we aren't walking a square."

"True, true," Abraxas mumbled in thought.

"Hey guys, you might want to come and look at this," Draco said. He held Bast tightly against his chest with one arm, refusing to let the child close to the hedges. With his other, he held a curtain of low hanging ivy to the side.

It only took a heartbeat or two for the sitting trio to join Draco, all four adults ignoring the sulking toddler who was still trying to grab the leaves.

In front of them was a tiny door that was nestled amongst the branches of the hedge. To Hermione, it looked like one of those fake doors that some people sculpted and attached to trees, claiming fairies used them. It was adorable.

"What is it?" Draco asked.

"A door," Lucius snarked. Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn't quite help the smirk that formed in spite of herself.

"Obviously," Draco said impatiently, still pinning Bast against his body and holding up the ivy curtain. "But what do we do with it? What is its function?"

Hermione bent down so that she was eye level with the tiny door and tapped on it. After all, one never knew what they would find in the world of magic.

After a moment of silence, Hermione huffed a chuckle and stood back up. She shrugged at Abraxas and Lucius who had already grown bored of the tiny find.

A disproportionately loud creaking emanated from the tiny door as it inched open. It was not an entryway, no room lay behind it, but flush against the stone was a tiny bronze plaque.

Ask and it shall be given; Seek and ye shall find; knock and the door will be opened for you. *

Lucius laughed, startling the toddler out of his tantrum. Bast watched him with wide eyes, now completely still in Draco's arms.

Lucius threw his arms wide and with a smile asked in a booming voice that reverberated off of the hedges, "How do we get to the center of the labyrinth?"

To their immense surprise, the hedges parted in front of them. The greenery moved and slithered with purpose, creating an archway for them to pass through.

"I can't believe it was so simple," Draco muttered, anger tinting the incredulity in his voice.

"This isn't over," Abraxas warned, a worried frown pulled his eyebrows together. "The maze just proved that it is not a concentric pattern. It will get much more difficult before we reach the center."

**HGHG**

Harry burst into the Malfoy kitchens. A silvery cloak was thrown over his shoulder haphazardly.

"You," He said, pointing to a small trembling female elf.

She pointed silently at herself, her eyes wide and afraid.

"Emmy, right?" Harry asked before sighing and running his hand through his hair. "Hermione told me to find you so that you could take me to Sigurd's chamber, whatever that means."

Understanding flooded the small elf's eyes. She patted her wet hands on the tiny apron and pulled at the strings before hanging it on a small hook in the corner where other such things were.

"Come," she said, beckoning to Harry as she passed him and walked the halls, leading him up to the observation room.

**HGHG**

Hermione stood on the edge of a field filled with the most beautiful purple flowers. Abraxas, Lucius, and Draco stood behind her. Bast's tiny hand was snuggly nestled in Lucius' larger one. He stood as tall as his three-year-old boy could and tried hard to emulate the air that Lucius naturally affected.

Hermione turned back to them and smiled, biting her lips in an effort to hold in her amusement. Give the kid blond hair and grey eyes and he would be just like Draco was as a child. A boy emulating his father.

She glanced up at Abraxas and her breath caught as she noticed his intense gaze sweep over her, his eyes slightly crinkling at the corners with his smirk. This was not the time. Hermione looked up at the sky and tried to push Abraxas and his come-hither eyes to the back of her mind.

"Mummy, look!" Bast said as he pointed to the flowers that began opening, showing them the dew that had gathered on its petals. They tipped their heads, inviting the thirsty to come drink and Hermione recognized the compulsion drawing her to the tiny cups.

Draco walked up beside her and slid his hand into hers, squeezing lightly. He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed the back before dropping their combined hands to his chest, settling over his heart.

Far across the meadow, Hermione could see the archway that indicated where they should go to continue on in their quest. She studied the meadow, searching for a pathway, knowing that she was not going to find one. Still, she was disappointed.

"What would the world be like, if we didn't know better than to lightly step into a field of flowers," Abraxas muttered, waving his wand over the petals of the closest flower. He separated a small droplet and raised it to his nose. "colorless, odorless… I bloody bet its tasteless too, if it is what I think it is… Bottoms up,"

Abraxas let the droplet settle on his tongue.

"Well?" Lucius said, a curious tilt to his head. They all now had a suspicion of what it was gathered on the petals. "Why did you lock those memories in a trunk in Gringotts instead of telling me what was coming?"

"Yes, Lucius," Abraxas said with a twist of his lips, answering the question that went unasked instead of the one he was accused with. "it is Veritaserum but since I've only imbued one drop, I'm not fully under its effects. If you have an issue or problem to resolve with me, do it once we are home, and not when we are struggling to get through this bloody maze!"

"You realize we have to walk through the flowers, right? That the Veritaserum will touch our skin, get on our hands?" Hermione said to them.

Lucius raised his right brow and looked down his nose at her as if what she said was at the height of stupidity.

"It's a good thing we have all decided to be honest with each other, isn't it Hermione Dear?" He drawled, obviously thinking of the time she had flipped her shit because they were hiding their problems from her. A problem that was never properly resolved.

Draco sighed and pulled her forward into the flowers and the others followed at a slower pace. Lucius scooped Bast into his arms and in one swift motion, swung the boy up onto his shoulders and winced when the small hands tangled in his long blond hair.

"I'm curious too, Abraxas," Hermione said over her shoulder. "Why did you wait so long to tell Lucius about me? Why not tell him everything when you wanted to betroth him to me?"

"Do we really have to do this now?" Abraxas muttered, the muscle in his jaw flexing in time with his rapid heartbeat.

"No," Hermione said. "But if we are talking about it anyway, why don't we talk about it now?"

"I didn't tell Lucius about you because I didn't want him to yearn for you the same way I did, the same way Sigurd did, the same way many others of our family did. I knew you were going to born in his lifetime and though he would be older than you, I thought that he should have the chance that none of the rest of us had. But in the end, he cocked it all up and lost you anyway." Abraxas savagely said.

Lucius met his hard stare with his own and said, "The only thing I knew was that I was betrothed. Spoken for. And I was forbidden from girls. I wasn't allowed to look around or fall in love or anything else. Maybe if I knew what I was supposed to save myself for, I would have done a better job of it,"

"Personally," Draco said in a light tone. "I am glad you and my mother had me. I would have missed out on everything."

"Or you could have been my son," Hermione said.

"Ew," Draco whispered. "I don't even want to imagine that,"

Hermione chuckled. She couldn't see it, but she imagined both Abraxas and Lucius rolling their eyes, pretending that it wasn't funny.

"You know, Hermione, you are taking all of this rather well," Lucius murmured.

"All of what? The labyrinth? It's not like we have a choice."

"No, us. Marrying the four of us,"

"Am I supposed to freak out over it? Over something I don't want to change?"

"I thought you would. You didn't even watch all of the memories in the room. You are very trusting of us,"

"Am I though? I know you and Draco died for me. Abraxas has been trying to protect me since I was young. Sigurd defied the natural order to be with me. What woman in their right mind would throw that all away?"

"I'm glad you feel that way," Lucius murmured, wrapping his free arm that wasn't holding onto Bast around her waist and pulling her close to lay a kiss on her temple.

"You weren't always so convinced of marrying us. What changed?" Abraxas wondered.

"We have been through so much these past several weeks. I can barely believe that so much happened in such a short time. I can't believe the war is over. I don't feel like it is, you know. I feel anxious as if there is a catch. I keep expecting someone to run in and tell me it wasn't Voldemort that we killed after all…"

"I destroyed his body myself," Lucius said. "And you know that he is still alive in a way. Bast has Tom Riddle in his head and I think he always will. I also don't think that he will be the same person. From what I know of Tom's childhood, it was unbearable. Bast is one of the happiest children I've ever met."

"That's Luna's genes. If he is anything like her, we will be blessed to have him in our lives."

"I don't know much about his mother, but I grew up with Rabastan. I would say he favors his father."

"I guess we will have to wait and see how he grows."

"I guess," Lucius mumbled, letting her go and continuing to walk across the field as a group.

"What do you like about us?" Draco asked Hermione, a mischievous smirk on his face.

"Well, Draco, I like how sweet you are. I never thought you capable of it before. We were never friends at school because you were such a prat. I like that you hold my hand whenever you can. You make it so easy to love you. I love that with you I know I am loved and wanted." Hermione said, a light pink blush staining her cheeks.

"And me?" Abraxas said an eyebrow raised to his hairline.

"You are strong, capable, a take charge kind of man. With you, I never have to worry about saving you or telling you what everything means. I love how you will do whatever it takes for me no matter what even if you try to control me sometimes. But at least you know that I will never be controlled. You make me feel desired and sexy. The way you look at me…" She trailed off thinking about the heated look she had seen not a few minutes prior. "And Lucius with you, it's all fire and passion. We fight just as passionately as we make love. It is explosive, and it makes me feel alive!"

"And Sigurd?" Draco asked.

"He found a way to come to me across a thousand years. The depth of that commitment… I never thought I could be so cherished as I feel with all of you."

"I think I speak for all of us when I say that we are blessed that you feel the way you do. I can't imagine a world in which we weren't yours." Abraxas declared just as they finally reached the edge of the field, leaving the Veritaserum filled flowers behind.

"To be honest," Hermione sang happily, "It could have been so much worse than merely Veritaserum."

"True," Abraxas allowed. They had been working through their problems for a while now and though they argued and fought, there were no more debilitating secrets between them. Even still, the group gave a collective sigh of relief when they reached the other side and walked through the next archway.

Abraxas couldn't hide his grin when he pulled Bast off of Lucius and the tiny fists refused to let go of the satiny strands of Lucius' immaculate hair. With an air of unconcerned languor, Abraxas wrapped the bright material around them both, pinning the squirming toddler still.

Bast was getting grumpy and whiny and Abraxas knew from his experience with Lucius, even as a grown man, that the boy was in need of sleep. He smirked, knowing Lucius would glower if he knew that Abraxas compared him to a toddler in need of a nap.

They were under a path of blooming cherry trees. Light pink blossoms floated lazily to the ground like snowflakes. Hermione looked along the dark brick that flowed under the flowering wood and it seemed to go on forever, but they followed it quietly, reverently, refusing to sully the moment with something as inane as words.

The long slender branches danced in a nonexistent breeze and the sweet scent of the blooms swirled around them. Piles of pinkish white petals littered the brick and as they stepped upon the tiny things, the smell began to grow musty.

Hermione looked behind them, only once, and saw to her horror that every step on the fallen buds they took; they left a path of severe decay. Where once the petals were bright, now they lay brown and curling, turning black in the matter of seconds. They left a trail of death in their wake.

She turned back around and focused on the small ball of light at the end of the tunnel. They would get through this, they had to.

The tunnel opened up into a large orchard with magnificent trees. They were large and green, in full summer leaf and heavy with its fruit. Bemused, Hermione walked up to one of the trees and plucked the tightly rolled scroll that grew there.

Slowly, she unrolled it, casting off the tiny green vine that encircled it. She stared at the tiny offering unsure what to do with it.

"What does it say?" Abraxas asked.

"Incendio," Hermione muttered. The parchment caught fire and she dropped it, startled.

"That bad?" Draco asked.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "That is what it said. Incendio. It was a spell."

She reached up and plucked another, unfurling this one as fast as she could.

"And this one?" Abraxas said curiously.

"Accio,"

Draco, Lucius, and Abraxas converged on the trees, plucking one spell off after another.

"Wingardium Leviosa,"

"Lumos,"

"Depulso,"

"Aguamenti,"

"Alohamora,"

"I bet there is a spell on here that no one knows," Lucius muttered.

"And we wouldn't either," Hermione said reasonably. "There is nothing on these parchments to tell us how it should be used, what it is for, wand movements, pronunciation, nothing…"

Abraxas sighed and backed away from the trees, letting the unopened scrolls fall to the ground. "She is right. We were drawn in and we would stay until all the scrolls could be plucked and read and while we did that, more would grow. We would be here forever."

Draco winked at Hermione and shoved a handful of the tiny scrolls into his robe pocket. Something for them to go through later. Who knew, they might get lucky.

Abraxas kissed the top of Bast's head and wrapped his arm around Hermione, pulling her close. "I suppose we should move on before we linger any longer. Merlin knows we can't afford to waste any time."

**HGHG**

Harry looked around Sigurd's chamber in awe. There were many depictions of not only Hermione's childhood, but his as well. Well, those that Hermione was in anyway. But it was amazing to him to see their friendship chronicled in such a way.

In front of him lay the famous enclosure, the one that must have housed Sigurd for all this time. The lid was back on, but it wasn't sealed, and a short row of memories sat benignly on top. A pensive sat behind them.

He dumped them in, one at a time, and took a deep breath before lowering his face into the swirling silver.

Memories flashed past, one after the other, and Harry watched enthralled. Hermione as she brought back the Malfoys, Sigurd's awakening, Hermione's first foray using the magical door and Hecate, the price of using the door, Sigurd's price for receiving Bellatrix's name and Hecate's help in keeping Hermione alive through the war, and the last memory was Hermione laying out her plan for him, in front of her mirror.

By the time Harry pulled his face out of the memories, his lips were pressed into a long thin line.

"Fuck…" He groaned, knowing he was wholly going to regret getting involved. Not that he would ever abandon Hermione. Because he wouldn't. Not after everything. No matter what she asked of him.

**HGHG**

The next archway led them to a stairway; one leading up and the other down. Forward was no longer an option, Hermione noted as she stared down the bare cliff face that went miles down, a waterfall flowing fiercely over the opposite edge.

First, she looked at the stairs going up. Trees bracketed the wooden steps that were sunk into the earth. The stairs down on the other hand were solid stone, thick and sturdy, with a sheen of water coating them.

"Up or down?" Draco murmured.

"Normally I would say up," Abraxas said. "But I don't like the feeling of it. It feels as if the very trees are against us. I don't know about you all, but I have this feeling of being watched."

"I agree with Abraxas," Lucius muttered. "the wood feels sinister."

"Down it is," Hermione agreed as she took the first step onto the thick stone. Collectively they all held their breaths, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When nothing happened, they all began to take the stairs down, one step at a time. By the time they reached the bottom, they were so tightly wound that anything could set them off.

The most beautiful woman that Hermione had ever seen was sitting on a rock next to the waterfall-fed pool. She was humming twisting her long blonde hair into an elaborate chignon at the back of her neck. She paid the group no mind, even as Lucius cleared his throat rather loudly.

"Excuse me," Draco said and visibly started as the woman's black eyes flicked to his. Her red lips parted, her eyelids lowering so that her long black lashes could sweep her ivory and cream cheeks.

"How can I help you?" she murmured softly, her voice a melody.

"We are looking for the center of the labyrinth. There is a door that will take us to a room with many doors. Are we going the right way?"

"I'm Helen," the girl sang.

"Hi," Draco said awkwardly.

"Helen, can you help us find the center of the labyrinth?" Hermione asked.

The girl went from sweet and beautiful to a vicious ugly fury in seconds. Her dark eyes narrowed on Hermione and her slender fingers began to elongate in terrifying claws. Her teeth sharpened, and she hissed.

"Oh shit," Draco uttered, taking a step back. It startled the woman and as she looked back at him, she halted her transformation. Uncertain if she wanted to lure the handsome men to their deaths or destroy the competition, her transformation gained ground before retreating over and over.

"What is she?" Hermione asked. Abraxas stepped in front of Hermione so that the woman could no longer see her. It did the trick because the woman turned back into the beautiful blond. Her smile turned predatory and she pinned her gaze on Lucius.

"A succubus or a relative of the Veela, who knows," Abraxas answered.

"Wonderful," Hermione muttered sarcastically.

"I think she will leave us alone if we ignore her," Lucius added walking up behind Hermione and settling his large hand on her lower back. She couldn't help the shiver that ran down her spine. His hand was hot through her robes and she longed to lean into him and let his hands explore.

"Can you help me tie the ribbons for my hair?" Helen's voice called out to the men. Hermione looked back at Draco to see if he was affected and noticed that his face sported a green tinge.

"Not your kind of woman?" Hermione teased.

"Ha ha," Draco said without a stitch of humor, still looking as if he was going to lose his stomach at any moment.

"Ignore that beast," Lucius murmured to Draco. "I have a feeling that if you give her any attention at all she will try to ensnare you."

"I don't think she can," Abraxas disagreed. "Not with the bonds we share with Hermione, not including the fact that all three of us are in love with her. I don't think the magic of whatever that woman is could come between that,"

"Well either way," Hermione said. "I don't think we should tempt fate and give her the chance to try."

"Seconded," Draco said, passing the group and taking the lead forward on the stone path.

They followed the path for what seemed like miles, the stone winding with the river, the scenery unchanging as they went. Bast was snoring quietly against Abraxas' chest and Lucius was walking next to Hermione, his fingers caressing the skin of her wrist.

Hermione's new mantra became 'not the time, not the time' as butterflies took flight in her stomach.

They walked and walked, talking about nothing, and bored as hell.

"I think there is something wrong," Hermione finally said.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked.

"I swear we have been here before."

"How can you possibly tell?" Lucius asked curiously. It all looked the same and therein lied the crux of the problem.

"We've been walking for a long time, but nothing has changed. I feel like we aren't moving at all."

Abraxas walked up to the nearest tree and raised his wand, "Flagrate," and a fiery 'x' appeared on the trunk, branding the mark into the bark. "Only time will tell," He murmured as he walked back to their little group.

No matter how long they walked, no matter how fast they ran, no matter how far they should have been, they stayed next to the tree that Abraxas had marked.

"Bloody fucking hell," Hermione groaned.

"Lovely," Lucius mumbled to himself. "All we needed was a fucking time loop,"

"How are we going to get out of this?" Abraxas wondered out loud. "Any suggestions?"

"I guess we could always ask the labyrinth. That's what we did last time," Draco said.

"Try it,"

"How do we get to the center of the labyrinth?"

Crickets were the only sound they heard, which was hilarious because, until that very moment, there were no crickets.

"I think we took the wrong stairs," Hermione said. "up until that moment, leafy arches have guided us to the center. I haven't seen an arch since we passed out of the scroll orchard."

"We can't go forward but maybe we can go back?" Lucius said.

They turned around to back the way they came and after several minutes, dread settled over them like a heavy mantle. They were still getting nowhere.

"This is just bloody wonderful," Lucius growled.

"We will think of something," Hermione murmured, as she chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip.

"We have to," Abraxas muttered. "If we want to save Sigurd."

"There is no other option!"

Bast woke from his nap and began wiggling and whining. Abraxas freed the toddler, knowing that the boy was stuck just as surely as they were.

He began giggling as a horde of butterflies flew over his head and he reached up trying to capture one of the beautiful bugs. They were too aware of him, flying just out of his reach.

The butterflies split and like a heard of stampeding antelope around the group.

"Its so beautiful," Hermione whispered a small smile on her face. They stood still as the butterflies streamed past them.

Bast was all legs and energy as he chased the tiny fliers, walking backward as he tried to capture one in the cage he made with his hands.

"You can't catch them, Bast," Hermione said. "You will destroy their delicate wings and then they wouldn't be able to fly anymore. If they can't fly, they can't get food."

"Pretty flies," he said, ignoring Hermione's warning.

"Bast," Lucius said sternly, "listen to your Mummy!"

Bast gave them the most disgusted, angry look that a toddler could create and looked away defiantly, jumping in the air this time to catch a butterfly.

"Bastillion Lestrange!" Abraxas roared and Bast stood still, eyes wide. No one ever spoke to him that way. No one here anyway.

"Sowwy (Sorry)," Bast said breathlessly.

"No one is going to hurt you, Bast, but you have to listen to us. We have rules for a good reason and if we tell you no, you need to listen. Like a good boy," Abraxas said, laying his hand on Bast's shoulder as the boy nodded solemnly.

"Look!" Draco said pointing to the tree that Abraxas marked, far in the distance.

"How?" Hermione wondered.

"The butterflies," Lucius said. "We need to stay with them!"

The small group continued going back the way they came, staying in the center of the butterfly swarm and all of them smiled in relief when the sound of a waterfall met their ears.

"Finally," Draco murmured, slipping his hand in Hermione's. Bast, who grew bored with the butterflies, copied him, sliding his tiny hand in Hermione's other. Hermione turned and gave the little boy a bright smile, getting one in return. He was going to be a heartbreaker when he grew up, she just knew it.

When the butterflies left them, they were in the opening of a glade, a small waterfall fell lazily over moss covered rocks. Behind the waterfall sat another leafy arch, identical to the ones they had been following.

Looking around, Hermione knew that they couldn't go around, they couldn't climb the dangerous rocks to avoid the water. It was way too dangerous for Bast.

Abraxas raised his wand and froze the pond but the second his entire weight was on the ice, it melted as if it had never been. Next, Lucius tried to fly across, using the same spell Voldemort taught his Death Eaters, but the second his feet cleared the ground, the magic failed and he was right back where he started.

"We are going to have to swim," Draco said, already pulling off his robe.

"Give them here," Hermione said pulling out the beaded bag she carried while unbuttoning her own robe. Thankfully, they had anticipated something along these lines and had prepared accordingly, each of them wearing shorts and a tee.

Hermione lifted Bast into her arms and sung him onto her back so that he could loop his arms around her neck.

"No," Abraxas said, frowning at Hermione. He was the only one who left his robe on.

"I'll have you know I am a very strong swimmer."

"That may be, but we don't even know if this is water."

"You are drenched Brax, is it not water?" she asked.

"It seems to be water," he grumbled. "I am a strong swimmer too. Why don't you let me take the boy?"

"We will be fine. If it makes you feel better, you can swim next to us."

"I really think it would be better-"

"Brax," Hermione said as she lifted her hand to his cheek. "It is a tiny pool; how hard could it be?"

He ran his hand through his hair in frustration, unable to take his eyes off of her scantily clad body but also not wanting to give in. They were still in the labyrinth. Anything could happen.

Draco waded in the chilly pool first and propelled himself to the center, treading water easily. "Seems fine to me,"

And then he went under, pulled from the depths.

"DRACO!" Hermione screamed as Lucius dove in.

Abraxas held Hermione with Bast between them, keeping them on shore.

Bubbles rose to the surface in a constant stream and the longer they waited, the fewer bubbles that came up. Hermione was beside herself and her fear was infectious. Bast was screaming bloody murder.

Finally, Lucius's head broke the surface and he towed the unconscious man in his arms toward the arch, which was the closer of the two shores.

"Is he breathing?" Hermione yelled, trying to be heard over Bast's screams of terror.

"Anapneo," Lucius muttered, pointing his wand at Draco's throat, clearing it of the water that Draco sucked in.

Draco sputtered and coughed, and Lucius turned him on his side, helping him to breathe.

Hermione's shaking hands covered her face and Abraxas was murmuring soothing words to both of the people in his arms. Several minutes passed before Bast calmed down enough to stop screaming but now he had the hiccups, and he buried his face into the back of Hermione's neck.

"Now what do we do?" she whispered.

"We are going to have to take a chance on those rocks," Abraxas replied.

"Bast, you are going to have to let go of Mummy. You can ride on my back, okay?" Abraxas said but Bast shook his head violently, gripping his hands tighter around Hermione's neck, nearly choking her.

"It's better this way, isn't it? You can spot me."

Abraxas stood still, thinking hard, before leaning forward to talk to his son.

"Bast, I am going to put a charm on you so that you don't fall off Mummy's back. It's a sticking charm and it will feel weird. Don't panic. I will be right behind you okay?"

Bast nodded and bit his lower lip, much the same way Hermione had earlier.

"Lean back," he murmured, supporting the boy while flourishing his wand at the skin of his tummy, nonverbally casting the spell. He pushed Bast back onto Hermione and held the little arms away from Hermione so that he knew his spell worked. "You need to hold tight anyway to Mummy. I don't know if the spell will hold. Can you do that? Hold on to Mummy?"

Bast nodded seriously, interlocking his fingers after sliding them around Hermione's neck.

"Alright," Abraxas said grimly, sending a nod to Lucius and Draco who were watching from the opposite shore.

Hermione sought for fingerholds, struggling against the damp moss, Abraxas right behind her, supporting her sometimes with his own body. Several times, she slid and Bast closed his eyes tightly scrunching his face in fear, but the little boy didn't make a sound.

Finally, they reached the other side and Hermione choked on a sob when Lucius' hands reached out to her and pulled her to safety.

"Merlin," she said shakily as Abraxas climbed onto the shelf. Draco stood and muttered the incantation for the counter charm cradling Bast in his arms.

"I'll take that wrap," He held a hand out to Abraxas who had never disrobed. Abraxas nodded and untied the knot at his waist and wrapped it around Draco and Bast. "Why didn't you use the wrap around Hermione and Bast too?" Draco asked.

Abraxas clenched his teeth. "I didn't think of it,"

Hermione let out a tiny chuckle. "Even you are not infallible,"

"Not even I," he muttered bad-temperedly.

Together, they walked through the arch and sighed happily as they saw a large walnut and iron door, in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

"Thank Merlin," said Hermione.

**HGHG**

Sigurd sat at the wooden table, bound by dark tendrils that tightened, renewing their grip as the parasitic entity drew magic from his very being. He could feel himself weakening, feel the stream of magic leave him as if a dam had been newly destroyed. He would have felt better about things, about this, if it didn't feel as if any moment would be his last. He hoped that Hermione would get to him in time because he didn't think he could hold out for much longer.

Hecate opened the door and stepped into her dark dominion, tutting at him as if he were an errant child bent on stealing the last pasty before dinner.

"I warned you," She cackled. "Five years! Five years is all I asked of you. And you couldn't even do that. What were five years compared to the thousand you waited?"

"Because her time is now, and I know that if we are parted, I will lose her. She has others, my kinsmen, and they would not be sad to have one less brother fighting for her affections. If I wait any longer, all my waiting will have been in vain."

"You think your young bride so flighty, do you? You seem to lack faith."

"If I didn't have faith in her, I wouldn't be here now. She is the only thing I have faith in and she has never let me down."

"There is always a first time, Love," Hecate said gently. "You and I are much the same, so full of love and life. Emrys was my Hermione and I trusted him like no other. But I was not his chosen one. He did not love me the way I loved him. Your Hermione has three other mates, what is the price of losing one when she could lose them all."

"What are you saying?"

"Do you think the room would be satisfied with your magic alone? It is a cold, greedy thing. If it takes you, sucks out your magic to leave you nothing but a husk, what do you think it will do then? Do you think it will be satisfied when there is so much power in its grasp? Hermione alone makes it salivate. Can you not feel the excitement every time she enters the room?"

"Thanks to you, they are no longer in the room."

"But they will come back. For you."

Chapter Text

Hermione took a deep steadying breath and slipped her hands into Abraxas' and Draco's, taking comfort at the small squeezes she received in reply.

"We cannot walk out of any door unless we know for certain it is to get home," Abraxas said, slipping something metallic into Hermione's robe pocket unobtrusively so that Hermione, Draco, and Lucius wouldn't see. "and we all go together, or not at all."

"Agreed," Draco mumbled. Lucius whipped his head up and pinned Abraxas with a questioning glance that Hermione nearly missed.

"What are you planning old man?" Lucius asked suspiciously, the only one out of the three who noticed that Abraxas slipped something into Hermione's pocket.

Abraxas shook his head. "It's not a plan so much as a worst-case scenario, let's hope that we never have to use it."

Together, the four of them raised their intertwined hands and set them against the door, each desperately thinking of Hecate's antechamber.

The moment they stepped into the room, the candle on the lone table flared, brightening the whole room so that they could see it as it was. Sigurd was chained to the stone table by a black tether that pulsed, almost as if it were swallowing the magic it was leaching out of Sigurd. Hecate was standing behind him, hard flinty eyes, staring into their very souls.

"What have you done?" her old horrible voice accused.

"Let Sigurd go," Hermione asked.

"I cannot. He has taken from the room and must now give back to it."

"You could kill him," Hermione said.

"Don't place the blame for his loss of magic and death on me. If you hadn't disregarded the rules of the room, the only thing that would have happened is that you both would have spent five years apart. Then he would have come home to you. But no, you couldn't bear the separation, no matter the danger you put him in. That is pure selfishness, Emrys' daughter."

"That would be selfish if it were the only reason," Hermione said slowly. "Sigurd has gone through so much, has orchestrated events for a thousand years, have given up his family, his life, his needs to be here today only to be stuck in this Merlin forsaken room. I don't bloody think so."

"You love him," Hecate tilted her head as if confused and stared uncomprehendingly at Hermione.

"I love them all,"

"If you love more than one man, you actually love none of them,"

"Who in hell told you that? It is not a one or none situation. I love them each deeply and without reserve, for their own merits. Are you so unfamiliar with love that you can't love more than one person?"

"There has always only been Emrys,"

Hermione nodded sadly, pity welling up in her eyes.

"Don't," growled Hecate. She. Would. Not. Be. Pitied!

Hermione let go of Abraxas and Draco and moved slowly across the room, to sit directly across from Sigurd, who was wincing and growing ever paler.

"Take from me," she offered the room, holding her wrist out to the blackness drawing upon Sigurd.

"That is not how it works," Hecate clucked.

Lucius was slowly moving around the perimeter of the room, hoping that he could get behind Hecate and bind her. Abraxas stayed right where he was, keeping Hecate's quick glances on him, and Draco moved behind Hermione who had thread Sigurd's fingers with her own.

"I know how the room works," Hermione said. "but what I don't understand is why we were able to leave the room last time without a truth,"

Hecate cackled and said, "That is because your dear prophet took the punishment for you, but perhaps it was the room punishing him even more for breaking the rules."

"What do you mean?"

"Why don't you tell your lover what truth you were given, Sigurd."

Sigurd rested his forehead against the stone and exhaled weakly. Hermione was growing more and more panicked as time crept on. He wouldn't last much longer but they couldn't remove him until he was no longer tethered. She racked her brain to think of a way.

"No?" the crone taunted. "Shall I tell them?"

Sigurd groaned.

Hecate waved her hand and the room changed.

Hermione stood in front of her mirror at Malfoy Manor, a horrible grimace on her lips. The white dress and veil marked the day of her wedding and even though she looked absolutely beautiful, her face was twisted in disgust.

"What's the matter, my sweet?" Lucius asked as he walked in the room.

"I'm not feeling very well. I think I ate something bad,"

"I doubt it. And I wouldn't say that around Gilkey, the elf may kill herself from the insult alone,"

"Something is wrong with me,"

"Nerves?"

"No." her lips twisted wryly as she glared at Lucius. "Our wedding feels more like a formality than anything, nothing to be nervous about."

"That's because it is," he mumbled, staring at the Malfoy family ring already on her finger.

"What was that?" Hermione asked as she brought up her hands to cradle her unruly stomach. Her face turned green, and she eyeballed the distance between where she was standing and the bathroom.

"Nothing, Love, nothing at all."

"Whatever," she mumbled, clenching her eyes tightly shut and breathing steadily in and out to help dissipate the nausea.

"Gilkey," he called.

Gilkey popped into the room and bowed. "Master?"

"Bring me the first healer you see and make it fast,"

Gilkey bowed again and disapparated. She was gone for the length of several heartbeats when she popped back in. A snarling, angry, and manhandled potions master in tow.

"What the fuck is the meaning of this?" Snape snarled.

"We need a healer," Lucius said. "Something is wrong with Hermione,"

Snape rolled his upper lip and said, "then why in bloody hell am I here? I am not a healer!"

The door opened and Narcissa breezed in. Her hair was rolled into a perfect French twist and her periwinkle silk robe flowed over her willowy curves; a small feather fascinator in her hair.

"She is fine," Narcissa crooned, gliding to where Hermione still stood with hand over her stomach. Narcissa gently ran her hand over Hermione's curls hidden by the veil.

"I told you it was something I ate," Hermione muttered through clenched teeth at Lucius.

"Eating had hardly anything to do with it, dear. You're pregnant."

"That is impossible. I have been getting Depo Provera shots from the Muggle world since this war started."

"Yes well, there is a reason why medi-witches and healers never prescribe the stuff. The first time you drank a healing potion, it negated all the hormonal imbalances that were preventing you from ovulating."

"Are you saying that it made no difference what-so-ever?"

"Exactly Dear," Narcissa sang happily. "I'm going to be a grandmother!" She clapped her hands together as Snape rolled his eyes.

"There is no way of knowing if it's Draco's child," Lucius said drily.

"Does it look like I care who the father maybe?" she turned with eyebrows raised, a 'fight me' look on her face. Lucius nodded, acquiescing to her desire to be the grandmother to all of Hermione's children. Narcissa had been through hell and back. If she wanted to be a grandmother, he would not stand in her way.

Lucius walked over to Hermione and slid his arms around her middle, large hands cradling her nonexistent baby bump. "A baby," he whispered into her neck.

Hermione tore out of his arms and ran into the bathroom, projectile vomiting into the porcelain bowl. Narcissa followed faster than belief in her four-inch heels, gleefully taking Hermione's veil in hand, her wand waving as she went, and casting an impervious to all of Hermione's wedding gear.

"Too bad Sigurd isn't here. I swear that man has an unhealthy fascination with you being pregnant," Lucius called out to his puking wife, his voice filled with humor.

The room faded the vivid truth and left the bare face of the stone of the room to close them in again.

"Too bad Sigurd isn't here," the crone mocked in a sing-song voice as Sigurd moaned and slowly shook his head as if denying the terrible reality.

"That could have just meant he wasn't in the room," Hermione protested. "There is literally no context to form an opinion about that statement!"

"Or it could mean that he died or became a muggle in this room," Hecate prodded.

"Give me my truth!" Hermione demanded. "We are using the room. By the rules, we each will receive a truth. Bring it on!"

"So be it," Hecate cackled again and waved her hand, the room morphing once more.

Abraxas stood in the walnut grove, a little boy with curly brown hair and grey eyes in his arms, the small hands clasped tightly at the nape of his neck and his face buried in Abraxas' robes.

Around him milled three girls, all of which had the striking Malfoy looks, cooing at the tiny golden unicorns that were a mere three days old. Beside him stood Bast, fifteen years old and already as handsome as Tom Riddle once was. It had been mildly disconcerting for Abraxas to watch him grow into the form of the man who he had grown up with and struggled to put down like a feral animal. The only difference between Tom Riddle and Bastillion Lestrange's looks were the eyes. Bast had the piercing ice blue eyes of the Lovegoods that were filled at this moment with boredom.

"Why can't I go over to Teddy's house?" He whined to Abraxas. "Uncle Harry just finished the Quidditch pitch behind the Burrow and he invited me to go too!"

"Today is the day your mother died twelve years ago. We are going to her grave and you are going to show the respect that I have taught you to the woman who brought you into this world. After we properly honor her, then you can go to Uncle Harry's. Not one moment before."

"I never even met her. And Mum is my Mum."

"Your biological mother gave up everything so that you could live, and you will attend her grave with us or you won't be going to the Burrow at all!"

"Yes, father," Bast muttered sullenly, face slumping into a sulk.

"Do you want to pet the unicorns too, Klaus? Layla would happily take you," Abraxas asked.

Klaus shook his head vigorously, "They are scary," he murmured burying his face into Abraxas' neck.

Bast rolled his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets. "What a baby," he mumbled.

"Bast," Abraxas warned.

"Ugh! Fine!" Bast huffed and lifted his arms up to the scared five-year-old. "I'll take you over if you want."

Klaus looked over at Bast with something close to hero worship and nodded, reaching out for his older brother.

Imogen skipped over, her blond curls bouncing with each step, her dark brown eyes sparkled with intelligence.

"The Mummies are coming over, Bast," she sang, taking hold of the sullen teenager's hand and pulled him toward the unicorns, Klaus in his arms. Over his shoulder, Bast threw a kill me now look that made Abraxas chuckle.

It was easy to see how much the children adored Bast and that was another glaring difference between Bastillion and the Dark Lord. Everyone loved Bast, especially those closest to him.

Abraxas sank to the ground and pulled out a small blade of grass, fiddling with it as he watched his family play with the unicorns.

The room seemed to go fuzzy as if was losing focus and for a few moments, the room clouded with purple shadows before gaining clarity once more.

Draco wiped the sweat off his brow and took a second to breathe. Sigurd's door laid on the ground well beyond the back garden. He had been at this for hours, struggling to find a way to destroy the door. Nothing seemed to work.

He even resorted to trying Fiendfyre. Nothing.

Draco sighed and lifted his wand, "Expecto Patronum,"

The small fire drake gamboled around his legs, bathing him in the wonderful feeling he used to conjure the thing. The day he finally made Hermione his.

"You were right Potter. Don't get used to hearing it either! And bring that damn sword."

His Patronus shot away into the forest and Draco settled in to wait for his once nemesis.

Harry showed up exactly eight minutes later, the Sword of Gryffindor in his fist and a smug taunting look on his face. "I told you, but you just wouldn't listen,"

"Shut it, Potter," Draco growled.

Harry smirked and they both stood silently looking at the door.

"How's the family?" Harry asked.

"Good," Draco said, a smile growing on his face. "Hermione is so damn insatiable while pregnant,"

"Wipe that smarmy grin off your face. I don't want to hear that shit," Harry said groaning. Draco laughed, thoroughly enjoying the look of abject horror on Harry's face.

"And how is Ginny and the baby?" Draco asked.

"Well, Ginny is a right bitch when she doesn't get enough sleep, so I have been waking up at two with Evangeline every morning. She is the sweetest little thing. Doesn't cry very much either."

"What I want to know is how the little tyke got bright blond hair. The eyes, now those are obviously from the Weasley side of things but neither the Pucey's nor the Weasley's have that color hair in their lineage."

Harry shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"No, just curious is all,"

"Right, well," Harry said gesturing to the sword. "let's see if this can do any damage to the infernal portal,"

Draco rolled his eyes. Harry walked up to the door lying on the ground and in one mighty swing rent the buttery wood in half.

"Bloody hell!" Draco yelled as a few splinters flew through the air and embedded into his face. Harry was likewise wincing as little beads of blood sprang up on his neck where he had been hit.

The room shifted, getting more seamless in its truths as it went along.

"Imogen," Hermione's voice rang out as she searched the back lawn. "Layla, Denna, where are you?"

Three blond headed girls hid behind the topiary and giggled, their new brooms from Uncle Harry clasped tightly in their hands.

"Shh," Denna said to her two younger sisters, which set off one pair of wide grey eyes and one pair of amber to sparkle with mischief.

"Don't make me send Daddy out to find you," Hermione warned.

Denna rolled her eyes but Layla looked at her eldest sister in terror.

"The worst he would do is make you sit through one of his long stories about Farmor,"

"But he told me that she used to see us. She could see us being naughty,"

"What is she going to do, Lay? She died a thousand years ago!"

"Daddy always knows what we are up to," Imogen whispered.

"He does not!" Denna muttered angrily. "but if you want to go back to Mum like little babies, fine. But I am going to test out my new broom!"

"I'm pretty sure your mother told you that you couldn't until Papa could go with you," Sigurd said as he stepped out from the other side of the tree. The three girls groaned as they realized they had been caught.

"Told you," Layla mumbled mutinously to Denna.

"I want to go with Denna too!" Klaus screamed as he squirmed in Hermione's arms. She had finally caught up to Sigurd, her hair sparking in agitation.

"You three… I've had it!" Hermione growled. "Grounded! No going to Uncle Harry's, No brooms, no Teddy's. You three are going to stay here with me while everyone else goes to Kings Cross to drop off Bast!"

"No!" Denna screeched, her own blond curls sparking in response. "I told Teddy I would meet him there!"

"Oh, yes, young lady! I've had it up to here with this willful attitude!" Hermione said gesturing well above her five-foot-five frame.

"Why don't I stay with them Hermione," a soft voice flowed over the breeze behind them, a sweet smile on Nana Cissy's face.

"You're too soft on them," Hermione mumbled still angry with the girls, Denna especially. The ringleader of their tiny crime organization.

"Well, why don't I start them on the training we discussed earlier?"

Sigurd bit his lips in an effort to contain his laughter at the grimace on Hermione's face. It had been one heated discussion when Narcissa insisted that the girls be given a lady's education. Dancing, etiquette, fine dining, conversation, posture, etc.

"They are certainly old enough. Denna is ten, Layla is eight, and Imogen is six. I was five when my mother started with me."

"Your mother was nuts!"

"Is that a no?" Narcissa asked, unimpressed.

"It wouldn't hurt anything," Sigurd said, and Hermione slumped as she finally gave in.

Narcissa rubbed her hands together and pinned a happy smile on the girls. "I can't wait,"

The room darkened, pitching them into the darkness, moments before showing the final truth.

Hermione laid on the master bed hemorrhaging. Her sweaty skin was white and pasty, and her eyelids were drifting shut.

"Keep your eyes open!" Lucius ordered her as he tried to help staunch the flow of blood.

The newborn baby wailed as Narcissa cleaned him up, taking over for the medi-witch that was badly needed at Hermione's bedside.

"Please," Lucius said, "don't die!"

Snape appeared at Lucius' elbow and moved him out of the way, trying everything in his power to fix Hermione before she bled out onto the white linens.

"Won't," Hermione mumbled almost incoherently. Her eyes slid shut and she stopped breathing.

"No," Lucius said, shock transforming his face before the rage took over, "NO!"

"Enervate," Snape yelled, and nodded with relief when Hermione drew another breath.

"We need another blood replenisher," the medi-witch said and Narcissa pulled one out of the satchel that Snape had brought with him and handed it to the woman.

"Thanks," she muttered to Narcissa who was now cradling the tiny baby boy she swaddled against her chest.

After several nerve-wracking minutes, Hermione was finally stabilized. Snape had found the tear in her uterus when the placenta detached and had cauterized the wound. They all took a deep relieved breath.

"What kind of Healer are you?" Snape growled at the medi-witch.

Furious pounding began at the door seconds before three frantic male voices demanded entry.

"Let them in," Snape barked at the woman who nearly cost Hermione her life.

"What happened?" Draco demanded.

"Everything is fine," Snape said. "Hermione had a near-fatal complication, but I was able to save her. Although, I doubt she will be able to have any more children."

"Five is enough for us," Sigurd agreed.

Narcissa walked up to them, the child in her arms. "What are you going to name him?" she asked them.

"Klaus," Lucius said from behind. "Ever since she was pregnant with Denna, the boy name she always wanted to use was Klaus."

Sigurd cradled the tiny infant against his huge body, admiring the soft brown hair on his head.

"Can I hold him?" Hermione said weakly from the bed. Sigurd turned to her and gave her the biggest, most adoring look in all the world.

"You did good, Mama," he murmured as he laid the infant in her arms.

"Severus?" Hermione said from the bed as she ran her fingers through Klaus' dark curly hair.

He turned and looked at her with one brow hitched in question.

"You should be a healer,"

Snape bared his teeth at her in a growl, even as the rest of the room erupted into relieved laughter.

"Well, well, well…" Hecate said lips pinched, eyes narrowed. She had seen, the same as they had that Sigurd was in several of their truths and none of the scenes took place in the room. One even showed the desecration they planned on one of her portals.

"Isn't there some way that we can work this out?" Hermione asked.

"Five years is owed. You could stay in his place," Hecate said to her.

"No!" Abraxas said the same time as Hermione said, "Okay,"

Four blond heads whipped in her direction, narrowing their steely eyes at her. She avoided them all.

"If you are sure…" Hecate asked, a thoughtful look on her face.

"I am," Hermione confirmed. She laid her hands flat on the stone table and watched as the black chain retreated from Sigurd and wrapped its way around her legs and arms.

"So, mote it be,"

"What the hell are you doing?" Lucius demanded.

Hermione looked up at his face and smiled softly, "Do you trust me?"

"You know I do,"

"Then take Sigurd and go."

"I don't want to exchange my life for yours," Sigurd said weakly, reaching across the table for her with the only hand that wasn't already entangled in hers.

Draco, knowing Hermione far better than the rest of them, grabbed Sigurd's arm and pulled him up, helping him limp around the table to drop a kiss on Hermione's temple. Without asking a single question.

"What do you need from me?" Draco whispered against her cheek.

"When you open the door to go home, let Harry through." She breathed as she turned to kiss his cheek. He nodded infinitesimally and turned to the door that would lead them all home.

"Come on Abraxas, Lucius," Draco said. "help me get Sigurd out of here."

"I'm not leaving without Hermione," Abraxas said stubbornly. When she had run from him and met up with Riddle he had vowed that the two of them would meet whatever danger that came at them together. There was absolutely no way that he was going to leave her there alone.

"How touching," Hecate sneered. "So devoted. I can sympathize with the sentiment. Wizards such as Hermione and Emrys do what they must and the rest of us scramble in their wake. I would have been his mightiest adversary if I wasn't already in love with him. And perhaps he knew that because here we all are."

"What does your one-sided painful love have to do with this situation?" Abraxas asked.

"I am the room and the room is me. It was the very last gift I received from him- Emrys, my dear sweet deceiver," Hecate said. "He knew of my love and used it against me to trap me here for all of eternity."

"Let us help you. We will try and free you from your bondage,"

"Beautiful courageous Hermione had there been a way to break my chains, I would have done so already."

"Abraxas, please," Hermione begged.

He shook his head and moved behind her, placing his hand heavily on her shoulder. "Where you go, I will follow. You are my everything and nothing could tear me away now,"

Hermione hissed as the black parasite drank deeply from her magical core for the first time. She could feel the flow of it leaving her body like a freezing cold drink after brushing her teeth. Gritting her teeth against the sharp pain, she struggled to remain impassive.

After the room took a long draw it shuddered, shriveled, and struggled to pull away from her. This time it was her magic that held on, forced it to stay with her so that it wouldn't latch onto Abraxas who still refused to leave.

By the door that Draco, Sigurd, and Lucius went through, a ripple disturbed the air and Hermione felt the relief to her very toes. Harry had come. Just as she asked of him.

Hecate leaned over the table, both of her wrinkled hands laid flat on the stone surface. "Why is it that only a few wizards cause the most havoc and the rest of us scramble to pick up the pieces. You and Emrys are like gods who fight other gods. The earth trembles, ripples of magic devastating the world, and all the while ripping out the hearts of the mortals who love and worship you most."

"You make it sound as if you were merely an innocent bystander, but you and I both know that is a lie. What did you do to Merlin for him to put such a curse on you?"

"I am not cursed,"

"Then leave the room,"

"Impossible,"

"Why? Are you bound here? Are you a prisoner of this room? And if so, how did you get here?"

"None of your business,"

"That's it," Hermione laughed humorlessly. "he used your love against you to trap you here. Were you the Dark Witch of your day, Hecate?"

"Enough! You. Know. Nothing!"

Hecate lifted her withered hand and the same black tendrils that Hermione kept bound to her, bled out of her fingertips, they coiled sinuously as they reached across the divide, growing slowly, steadily as they reached for Abraxas.

Hermione struggled to think of a way to protect Abraxas, but all of her focus was employed on keeping the large parasite with her. If she let go, for even a moment, she would lose Abraxas.

Hecate's eyes grew wide and she jerked, dragging her wild eyes to meet Hermione's. Fear filled them for the first time and she coughed, a spurt of blood decorating the stone table top between them.

"What?" Abraxas said. Hermione looked over her shoulder and saw Abraxas was successfully fending off the black tendrils that had come from Hecate, his wand moving through the air beautifully.

Hecate slumped over the table breathing raggedly, a knife glittering from just below her ribs from the back. A familiar knife. Bellatrix's cursed knife.

"Quick," Harry's discombobulated voice murmured through the air and Hermione looked back to the door that was now being held by Draco, fear and urgency on his face.

In a rush she stood, glancing back over her shoulder at Abraxas who, over the course of fighting against the black smoke, moved further away from her and closer to the door.

"Brax," Hermione murmured, motioning for him to go through without her. He nodded, a slight sheen of sweat beading on his brow.

A low groan from Hecate made Hermione flinch and whip around to face the prone witch. She froze and watched in morbid fascination as the cursed knife retracted, seemingly on its own.

As she stared, she felt a hand close over her bicep and pull her towards the door. She noticed with relief the moment that Abraxas reached the portal and smiled as he turned and held his hand out to her, Harry's hand still pulling her through the room.

The black parasite struggled to free itself from her magic and thrashed as she got closer and closer to the portal door. But with Harry so close to her, she dared not release it.

"You will not get away from us," Hecate growled, the knife clattered to the floor and its echo resonated throughout the chamber. The old witch pushed off from the table and stumbled toward Hermione, reaching for her.

Hecate lifted her hands once more. Thin metallic silver wires grew impossibly longer as they reached for Hermione. The thin metal twined with Hermione's curly hair and as Hermione reached the door, she was stopped in her tracks.

She couldn't take another step without ripping her hair out at the roots and the longer she stood there debating what to do, the tighter the metal tendrils latched on. She could feel the sharp needle-like tips start to sink into her scalp. Harry's buried his hands in her hair, trying to detangle the metal ribbons with his fingers.

"What is this," Hecate growled, eyes narrowed on Harry's now visible hands. "Do we have a trespasser?"

Hermione grabbed Harry's wrist and shoved him back through the door. He stumbled, and the cloak slipped from his head and he looked at Hermione in shock. Hecate cackled as she bid the door to close even as Lucius, Draco, and Abraxas fought to keep it open.

"Not so lucky, Pierre," Hecate laughed deeply, just before the door sealed, shutting the Malfoys off from Hermione. "Now you are mine," *

"Retract your claws," Hermione said quietly, standing stock still as the metal spikes continued burrowing into her scalp. They retreated immediately, retracting back into Hecate's fingertips.

"No one escapes the room once a deal has been struck. It is curious to me that you agreed to a five-year term, now knowing that you are pregnant,"

"That vision could be from five years in the future,"

"But it's not,"

"How could you possibly know that? Isn't one of the rules you, yourself told me when I used the room for the first time that you don't guess the time of things if they have not already happened?"

"I have seen many, many truths and I consider myself a connoisseur of sorts. I can always tell the mathematic probability between when a person receives their truth and when it will actually happen. The likelihood that you are not pregnant, that you will wait out the five years without protest, that you will leave here without becoming a murderess… well, let's just say that I won't say impossible only because the idea of impossible is in fact impossible. Instead, I will say it is improbable."

"You think I will kill you?"

"Isn't that what you were planning? What have you got in your pocket?"

Hermione reached into her robe pocket and pulled out a small silver dagger, no longer than the palm of her hand. At first glance, it looked unremarkable though pretty, but anyone with a modicum of magic could feel the powerful spells and runes laid into the very core of the dagger. A beautiful scrolled name was etched into the blade, the only decoration on the whole thing.

Emrys

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. And she meant it.

Suddenly the room changed. It brightened so that even when she closed her eyes, Hermione couldn't block it out. As bright as it went, the room suddenly plunged into the deepest night.

"Don't be afraid," Hecate sighed, her voice weary. She sounded older than she had ever looked.

A tall man with long black hair stood in the center of the largest stone ritual circle in Britain. Stonehenge. He was wearing a white robe, a silver dagger in his hand.

Below him, cowering at his feet was the most beautiful woman that Hermione had ever seen. Fiery red hair laid in wild ringlets down her back, steel grey eyes begging silently. Her green tunic was filthy as if she had been dragged there through the half-frozen mud. Hundreds of tiny nicks covered her fair skin, blood seeped out slowly, as if the weather was conspiring with the man to give the beautiful woman a long drawn out death.

"Emrys," She breathed. She shuddered with the cold, with fear, with longing. A single beguiling tear slid down her face.

"What you did can't be undone!" Merlin roared.

"I protected you! I protected that foolish boy you call king! What more do you want from me?" She wailed.

"You gave his wife a love potion so that she would fall in love with one of his knights!"

"You didn't see what would have come to pass, YOU DON'T KNOW!" she screamed.

"I could have loved you," Merlin said. His words were soft and filled with longing, none of which showed on his face. And it wouldn't. Not ever. He never loved her, could never love her. She was nothing more than a tool for him.

"Lies," she sobbed. She could see it now. Oh, so clearly. She had been blind. It was never going to be her. Not if she lived for eternity.

He brought down his arm swiftly, cutting deeply into her thigh. The blade was so sharp that it easily cut through all the layers of clothing that she was wearing. She screamed again, clutching at the gash.

Merlin raked his hands through her blood and began drawing runes around her, binding her, imprisoning her. She went behind him desperately trying to erase the blood runes but the moment he completed them, they were as if branded into the stone altar. Around her, she could feel her magic begin to be sucked out as Merlin used her own power to erect the room.

"You will not always be alone, Hecate, my lovely. One day there will be many,"

"No," Hecate yelled, throwing her whole body against the invisible walls that Merlin trapped her in.

Soon the outside world disappeared, and she was left in a stone room furnished only with a chair, a candle, and the stone table that was stained with her own blood.

"EMRYS!" Hecate screamed his name over and over until she went hoarse only to plead with the walls when she regained the ability to speak once more.

"Is that how you were trapped?" Hermione asked aghast. How could Hecate love a man who did that to her? No matter the reason. Death would have been a better, more suitable punishment.

Hermione felt sickened.

She felt sick from the memory and she felt sick because she wielded the very weapon that Merlin used to trap Hecate in this very room. How could Hecate love him still, so much so, that she protected his progeny? Children from another woman's womb?

"He thought he was saving the world from me. I do not blame him," Hecate said. A small forgiving smile on her face.

Hermione tried not to look disgusted, she wasn't sure she succeeded.

"We forgive a multitude of wrongs from the ones we love most. Things I would tolerate from no other. Our love, his and mine, was a doomed one. Even if he had loved me in return." Hecate stood on the chair and climbed onto the stone table, sitting in the exact same way as she had when Emrys had trapped her. "I'm ready."

"For me to kill you?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"It has been a long time in coming. If you kill me, you break the spell on the room. If you kill me, you can go home…"

"And you are just going to sit there and let me after the way you prevented me from leaving the room? After you fought us so bloody hard?"

"I'm compelled to do for the room. You hold the only thing that can kill me. He made is so. I am powerless against it."

"That is so fucking sad," Hermione murmured, her brows furrowing with compassion.

"A tragedy," Hecate agreed.

Hermione walked up to Hecate and let the dagger fall into her lap.

"I'm not a murderer."

"You have killed before,"

"That was war. This… this is something else entirely,"

"You won't kill me, even if it means five years of separation?"

Hermione gulped, hung her head, and whispered. "They will wait for me,"

Hecate lifted Hermione's palm up to cup her old wrinkled face and kissed the center of her palm. Gently, she laid their twined hands in her lap over top of the silver dagger, "If only you were a man, Hermione, you would have easily stolen my heart from Emrys's cold dead hands,"

Suddenly, Hecate clenched her hands around Hermione's and the hilt of the blade, lifting it, plunging it up in between her ribs to pierce her heart.

Hermione watched in horror as blood bubbled from Hecate's lips.

"Kiss me," she gurgled, and Hermione brought her lips the dying woman, tenderly kissing the crone's cheek as Hecate's last breath left her body.

"Thank you for helping me over and over again," Hermione whispered as she pulled away. She could feel the magic of the room collapsing, trying to find another host while simultaneously trying to avoid Hermione.

As the room self-destructed behind her, and she pulled open the door and stepped through, landing in the relieved arms of Draco Malfoy. Her men were startled out of their deep tactical discussion for her safe rescue, Harry and Snape now among them.

Hermione laughed weakly, ridiculously pleased to be home.

Chapter Text

25

Previously:

As the room self-destructed behind her, Hermione pulled open the door and stepped through, landing in the relieved arms of Draco Malfoy. Her men were startled out of their deep tactical discussion for her safe rescue, Harry, and Snape now among them.

Hermione laughed weakly, ridiculously pleased to be home.

**HGHG**

"Are you okay?" Draco asked, panicked, running his hands over her body, searching for any reason that she would have left the room on her own. "What happened?"

"I'm fine," she said, lightly squeezing his shoulders. "I'm fine," she repeated.

"How did you escape?" He pushed, needing to know that Hermione was well and truly free of the room, that they all were.

"Hecate is dead. I killed her,"

"How?"

"I can't," she whispered shutting her eyes.

"Draco, she will tell us when she is ready," Abraxas said, his lips a single grim line. Of course, he knew. He was the one who put Emrys's dagger in her pocket. He knew exactly what she was forced to do or what Hecate did to herself. For Hermione. For Emrys.

Hermione closed her eyes for a second, reliving the thankful blood-filled gurgle; the last words of Hecate.

Happy baby squeals met her ears and Hermione opened her eyes, searching for the child who had gone into the room freely without consequence. And he was there, sitting on an Occamy pelt, playing with a large strand of pearls.

Hermione's lips pulled up into a sad sort of smile, glad that it was finally all over, that she would be able to rebuild her life and the wizarding world at large. It wouldn't look the same, but it would be better this time around. She would make sure of it.

Large calloused hands lifted her hair away from her neck, caressing the curve of it.

"Never do that to me again, Sweetheart," Lucius whispered from behind her and Draco nodded fiercely as his hands circled her waist.

"Never again," Draco repeated, forcing her to look him in the eye. Both seemed satisfied when she nodded and after dropping kisses on her lips or skin, they moved away, letting her other men take their places.

Abraxas hugged her from behind, wrapping his arms around her middle, squeezing the life out of her. She laughed breathlessly, drawing the attention of Bast.

"Mum!" He squealed. The pearls and soft pelt were quickly abandoned as he ran to Hermione, slamming his tiny body into the front of her legs. "I missed you! Why didn't you come with us?"

"I had something to do," she said, running her fingers through his dark hair.

"I thought you were going to leave me," he whispered to her knees and she looked up at Sigurd, startled with the start of tears burning in her eyes.

"Never," she whispered back fiercely.

Sigurd smiled, lighting up his whole face. He reached out a shaky hand and cupped her face, eyes studying her as if she was merely a construct of his imagination that would turn to dust the moment he looked away.

Hermione caught her breath, watching him watch her, heart pounding at the unequaled devotion that sat naked on his handsome face.

"You scared me, Elskede," his whole body trembled at his admission.

"Tell me we weren't too late," she begged.

He closed his eyes and leaned into her, resting his forehead against hers. Warmth spread from his fingers to envelope her entirely in the comforting sensation. A warming charm, wandlessly cast, without even a whisper spoken.

Abraxas kissed her shoulder and beckoned Bast out of his death grip on Hermione's legs.

They were left in silence except for Sigurd's rapid breathing. "You shouldn't have come for me. You should have let Abraxas do it on his own."

"That wouldn't have worked, and you know it. It had to be me,"

"I wanted to die when the door closed with you and her behind it. I thought I had well and truly lost you,"

"We had the truths from the room. You should have known we would be together,"

"I did until the door closed and all I could see of the future was this deep dark yawning chasm that my life would be. I saw nothing and more nothing. I saw darkness, loss, and unending fear. If it wasn't for Bast, I think I would have collapsed right then and let the fates take me."

"I'm so very glad you didn't,"

"Me too," his other hand sunk into her hair, caressing the springy curls that met his fingertips. He tilted her face up and pulled back, swallowing hard. "I love you,"

"I love you too," she said as she ran her hands up his chest, letting her fingertips dance over the ridges of his muscles.

His lips met hers, sweetly, tentatively, wanting something more than just the needful lust that had consumed him before.

Hermione parted her lips and leaned into his hard body, letting him steady her. She inhaled deeply through her nose and pressed more fully into his lips, deepening their kiss, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, and laving it with her tongue.

He groaned and sunk his fingers through her hair to her scalp, pulling her closer. She hissed in pain and pulled back, confusion marring his devout face. "What's wrong?"

"Hecate's needle ribbon things sunk into my scalp, remember? It hurts,"

"Oh, Elskede, I am sorry," he murmured ashamed, letting his hands drop from her neck where he had pulled them after she pulled away.

"Don't," she whispered, hands gliding down his torso to wrap around his hips and grab his bum to pull her own body closer, arching her body sensuously into his. "Don't pull away from me,"

He ran his hands over her arms, chaffing some warmth back into them. "You're cold."

"You can keep me warm,"

He chuckled and pulled her into his body, hugging her, dropping kisses on her hair.

"I want to do this right, this time. Worship you in that huge bed that I have been dreaming about for a thousand years. I want to run my tongue over every inch of you, tasting every single part. I want to create those visions with you. I want it all,"

Hermione nodded against his chest, slightly frustrated. She wanted him. She wanted him to lift her onto his enclosure and bury himself into her needy quim. She wanted to bury her fingers in his hair as he went down on her. She desperately wanted to taste him too, bring him pleasure, watch him as shattered over and over. She wanted to hold him, taste him, feel him and never, ever let him go.

He pulled away and twined their fingers, leading her out of the room that he had called his for a thousand years and up the winding stone stair that would lead them to the observation room.

"And I'm pretty sure that if the Manor was destroyed now, it would not be able to rebuild now that Sigurd is awake. I believe that it was his enchantments that kept the core from being destroyed." Abraxas said.

"Well, there are only two ways to know for sure. The house elves probably know if it could ever be magically maintained in such a way," Draco said dryly.

"And the second," Abraxas prompted.

"We could blow the place up. Then you would have your answer,"

"Where the hell did you come by such a smart mouth?" Lucius asked Draco. Draco just raised his brows and smirked.

Sigurd and Hermione walked through the stone doorway and a sly smile slid onto Abraxas's face. "Done already are we? In need of some stamina training, Sigurd?"

Lucius and Draco snorted, enjoying the dark red blush that flooded the Viking's cheeks.

"Brax," Hermione warned with narrowed eyes. He merely smirked at her and winked, enjoying the way Sigurd reacted to his teasing.

"I suppose if I was in the habit of just pushing her against any old wall, like others, it would matter. But I have a certain reputation to uphold. Nothing but the most intense seduction will do. Right, Elskede," Sigurd said smoothly, despite his red cheeks. Lucius choked, trying hard not to laugh outright. Draco, on the other hand, didn't try to hide his laughter at all.

Abraxas narrowed his eyes, a challenge awoke in their depths. Hermione didn't know whether to be offended by the whole thing or be deeply aroused, but she was leaning towards the latter. Hermione had a feeling that every shag from now on was going to be better than the last as each wizard tried to outdo the other in pleasing her. There was nothing wrong with a little healthy competition, was there?

"It all comes down to preference I'm sure. Our girl here, likes things a little kinky, don't you, Love?" Abraxas said as he approached, slowly, sinuously, as if he were a jungle cat and she was his prey. She stepped back as he stalked her, stopping only when her back met Sigurd's hard front. He held her hips, keeping her in place, lowering his smiling lips onto her shoulder. Abraxas reached for her running his palm from her waist to right underneath the swell of her breasts.

"Hermione, Dear, Bella has awoken, and she is asking for you," Narcissa said from the doorway, an amused tolerant look on her face. The same look in fact that she wore in the vision where Hermione found out she was pregnant.

Hermione groaned, rubbing her thighs together in further sexual frustration. First Sigurd pulled away, and now it looked like she would have to wait even longer to release the ache between her thighs.

She held up a finger in Abraxas' face and growled, "this is not over."

Chuckles followed her from the room as Narcissa wound her arm through Hermione's leaving the Malfoy men in the observation room, hopefully, so that they could work on their coordination of Hermione's seduction. That's what she dearly hoped anyway.

"Does she have use of her magic?" Hermione asked and Narcissa sighed.

"I don't know. She wouldn't speak to me or Severus or even Eliza. She won't let anyone examine her until she sees you,"

Hermione nodded, uncertainty coiling in her stomach. It had been a long day, a long week, hell, a long eight years. Why did she have to do this today? Why did she have to face Bellatrix, a broken and reformed witch, who had once been the star of many of Hermione's nightmares?

Narcissa slowed as she approached the room in which Bella laid and set a single dainty hand upon the dark wood of the doorframe.

"No one would blame you, you know, if you decided not to talk to her, to let her stew in her own evil deeds,"

"I may not be ready to forgive her yet," Hermione said, nodding with her decision, "but her redemption saved my life and the lives of every single one of my future children. And we should never forget that it was us; our men, our family that broke her, twisted her into what she is today. We may not have been the ones to start her on her path of cruelty and insanity but what we did to her was no better than what they did. The only difference is she holds no resentment for me. Quite the opposite in fact. That should terrify us all and I will not be complicit in the further torture of anyone, not even Bellatrix Lestrange,"

Narcissa nodded, bringing her hand to her own face to trace the purple scars that swirled in complicated patterns. "You and I have both been marked at her hands, we both have suffered greatly, and yet, it is her that I pity."

Narcissa pushed open the door and Hermione followed her inside, wincing at the wide adoring eyes that pinned her the moment she passed the threshold.

"Hermione," Bellatrix breathed, a beatific smile overtaking her face. She scooted over and patted the bed next to her hips, ever so hopeful that Hermione would join her. Hermione walked further into the room and flinched when the door shut quietly behind her, leaving her and Bellatrix alone. She ignored Bellatrix's invitation to sit on the bed and gingerly sat in the chair next to it. Bellatrix's smile fell but she tried to plaster it on anyway, faking it, for Hermione's sake.

"We aren't okay," Hermione said, staring down at her clasped hands in her lap. "You don't get to just decide that you want to be in my life and make it so. You hurt me. No, that's not exactly accurate. You tortured me. You hunted me and my friends for years. You held Harry at the end of a magical leash when he was caught. You would have made him suffer as your plaything. You killed my father."

"I can't change what I did,"

"No. You can't,"

"How can I make things better? Make us better?"

"You have to earn it, Bellatrix. You have to show me, prove to me every day that you have changed and if there is ever one whiff of backsliding, I will cut you off so fast, your head will spin. You don't get to just be a part of my life because you want to. You will have to work for it, each and every day for the rest of your life,"

"I will,"

"Then someday, we might even be friendly. Until then, this thing is going to be on my terms."

"Okay,"

"Can you still use magic?"

"Yes,"

"Then you need to rebuild your life. Go home, fix it up, work on yourself. Find what makes you genuinely happy. And you can come here every Sunday at noon and spend the day with us."

"Just Sunday?"

"It is better than nothing, right?"

"Of course,"

"Then I suggest you get to it," Hermione said, standing up.

"And what about Cissy?"

"What about Narcissa?"

"Will she be there too?"

"I don't know. She will have to tell you what she wants you to do to fix things if you even can. Your building a foundation with me has nothing to do with your relationship with her. I suggest talking to her,"

Bellatrix nodded, tears welling in her eyes. It was obvious that she had thought things would be better now, that her sins would be wiped away, that she could just waltz into her life as if all the horrible things never happened. But Richard Granger once told her when she left for her first year at Hogwarts that once a person broke trust, the only way to get it back was through work and faith and time. That it was up to the person who broke the trust to earn it back.

She walked to the door and twisted the brass knob, stopping for just a moment without turning around to face the woman on the bed. "You cannot lay your happiness at the door of another person because you will always, always be disappointed. You are in charge of your own happiness and when you find it, then you can share it with the ones you love the most."

Hermione heard as Bellatrix broke into sobs and stiffened her spine, opening the door and walking through, leaving the broken woman to grieve. If Lestrange broke her soul, Abraxas broke her mind, and Voldemort broke her heart; Hermione would try and show her the way to own her own self. Body, mind, and soul.

She shut the door softly, collapsing against the wall, completely drained. First Sigurd's disappearance, then the labyrinth, then Hecate's death, now Bellatrix's ultimatum. Hermione was at the end of her strength and knew she needed to find her room. She was drained emotionally and spiritually.

"Emmy?" Hermione whispered in the air.

A slight crack resonated in the hallway as the tiny elf appeared. "Mistress?"

"Please take me to my room. I don't think I can get there on my own,"

"Yes, Mistress," she said and clasped her bony hands with Hermione's and with a snap of her long fingers, they were in Hermione's room.

Emmy helped strip her mistress, collecting the robes and underthings and shoes as Hermione peeled them off.

"How about a nice bath first, Mistress?"

"I don't think I can,"

"I will helps you, Mistress,"

Hermione nodded and allowed herself to be led. The bath was filled, and Hermione stepped in, but the details were foggy. She was just so damn tired all of a sudden. She blinked once, twice, then nothing.

When she blinked her eyes open the next morning, she looked around in confusion. The last thing she remembered was sinking into the steaming bath and leaning her neck against the cool marble rim, relaxing completely for the first time in ages.

She sat up, fully expecting to see one or other of her men but raised her brows in surprise when the room appeared empty. Leaving the warm bed behind, Hermione slid to the floor and padded to the door. It was time to find out where her men were and why none of them were with her, as had become their habit.

The Manor was silent and slightly creepy, as she walked their labyrinthine paths, searching, searching. The dark corners and unused rooms called to her and reached for her with their dark probing tendrils. Caressing her with their evil intentions.

The Malfoy men called for her, begging her to hurry, voices growing quieter as she struggled to follow them.

"Where are you?" she yelled, over and over, tears streaming down her face.

"Right here!" Lucius called from a room just ahead. The door creaked open, seemingly on its own and as she approached, chills swept up and down her back. There was a single candle in the room that barely illuminated the occupants; a woman who looked just like her cradled a tiny infant in a large wooden rocking chair. But as the Hermione look alike turned to her, the face morphed into Hecate's.

Five years were bargained, five years are owed. The Hecate-Hermione construct whispered in the dark.

Hermione gasped as she sat straight up in bed and covered her face with shaking hands.

"Granger? Everything okay?" Draco asked, setting his book on the nightstand while rising from the chair next to the bed.

"Draco?" she asked shakily, trying and failing to shake off the disturbing dream.

"I'm right here," he murmured, sitting next to her on the bed and caressing her arms.

"I had this terrible dream. I wandered through the Manor searching for you. I looked everywhere, and I couldn't find you, any of you, and I heard her terrible voice,"

"Whose voice?"

"Hecate's. and the darkness taunted me, tried to take me,"

"Take you? Take you where?" he asked slightly panicked but trying to hide it.

"To the room. She said five years were bargained, five years are owed. Then I woke up."

"Oh honey," he said wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to his chest, resting his chin on the top of her head. "It was just a dream. Hecate is dead."

"I can't help but feel like I released something or that the magic latched on to me as I left. I don't know."

"We will ask Abraxas and Sigurd. Either one can probably tell you what you need to know."

"Where are they?" she asked getting up to go to them. He smiled and pulled her back down and kissed her lips.

"Whoa there, no need to go searching the Manor. They will be here shortly. We wanted to all be together when we performed the pregnancy charm. Don't you want to know?" He asked, a funny look on his face.

"I forgot," she said abashedly.

He chuckled. "That's alright, a lot has happened in the last month."

Hermione sighed and relaxed into him and he stroked her, calming her, relaxing with her. He moved so that his back was supported by the headboard and Hermione draped herself over him, resting her head on his lap. His fingers tried to run through her curls, but the mass tangled immediately, causing him to curse under his breath as he had to try and detangle them without hurting her. She snorted softly in amusement, not lifting a finger to help him out. He would get it, eventually.

It wasn't long before the door opened, and Lucius, Abraxas, and Sigurd strolled in, easy banter and comradery falling from their lips.

Lucius approached the bed and sat behind Hermione stroking her back. "Ready Sweetheart?" he asked.

She nodded and laid on her back, keeping her head pillowed on Draco's thigh.

Lucius' wand swirled over her abdomen a shower of blue sparks following along in its wake. For several moments they waited as the sparks were absorbed by her body and waited longer still for a positive or a negative.

Weakly her womb began to pulsate with a soft pink light.

"What does that mean?" Hermione asked.

"Pregnant," Sigurd whispered reverently, his eyes bright and shining as he stared at the growing light.

"Pregnant?" Hermione said confusedly. Even when the room showed her, and Hecate confirmed, she still didn't believe. She didn't believe now.

Lucius leaned over and kissed her belly, murmuring to it in soft tones. Abraxas was running his fingers over her ankles, a stupid happy smile on his face.

"This isn't how the vision went," she worried. "Maybe I will have a miscarriage or something," her voice went up an octave as she struggled to stay calm.

"If there is one thing I know about, it's visions," Sigurd said, still starry-eyed with the news. He leaned against the bedpost, wrapping his large calloused hands around the sturdy polished oak, leaning his head against it. Even as his eyes stayed glued to Lucius and her stomach. "And there are a thousand different outcomes for every single event. All it takes to change course onto another is a small seemingly insignificant choice. Since we saw the visions, we were not taken by surprise. We didn't have to wait until our wedding day to confirm. That doesn't mean anything will go wrong, Elskede,"

"She had a nightmare that Hecate tried to bring her back to the room. In her dream, Hecate said to her that five years were bargained, and five years were owed. It freaked her out," Draco said.

"Hecate is dead," Lucius said, still caressing her abdomen.

"I told her that, but she feels as if something is wrong. I don't think we should discount her intuition. It kept her and Potter and Weasley alive for years,"

Abraxas nodded and hummed, deep in thought. "Perhaps," he began. "perhaps the room wasn't completely destroyed after Hecate's death. I mean, it was feeding off of Sigurd's magic for hours or days or however long we were in the Labyrinth."

Hermione's breath hitched and she tensed, fear and anxiety pulsing through her veins at the speed of a raging female erumpent in heat.

"But Hermione," Abraxas said bringing his calm gaze to her frantic one. "If it were latched onto anyone, it wouldn't be you. You are of Merlin's line. Didn't you notice that once it had a taste of you, it was repelled? The room was created by Merlin using Hecate's magic and love. You are not the one that would have to worry."

"You think it is me?" Sigurd asked, resigned.

"No," Abraxas said carefully. "There were two people who entered the room that did not follow the rules. Potter did not use the portal to take another. He went in and out of the same doorway. I don't think he qualified,"

"Bast," Hermione said, comprehending what Abraxas said.

"Exactly, but the first thing Lucius and I did after the door closed behind you was to make sure Bast was okay. He was clean; the only dark magic on him was the one forced on him by his father at the Battle of Hogwarts. In fact, the babe slept peacefully through the whole thing wrapped tightly against Draco's chest. I don't think it is him either,"

"What are you trying to say?"

"Remember Draco's truth? He was trying to destroy Hecate's door. I bet this is why and I bet that every last visage of the room's power would disappear with its destruction."

"Potter is going to be so damn happy," Draco muttered mutinously. Hermione snorted again.

"He has been a good ally to us and he is Hermione's best friend, a brother almost."

"Admitting I need his help makes the whole thing so much worse," he grumbled.

"You could always ask Neville," Hermione said. "Neville can pull the sword too."

Draco wrinkled his nose and said, "That is not much of a choice,"

"Speaking of Bast," Hermione began. "where is he?"

"Narcissa has him. She was over the moon when I asked her to take care of him last night and last I heard, the two of them bullied Severus into a walk in the garden." Lucius said. "You know, she has been dreaming of your children for years now. Ever since we knew you were contracted for Draco."

"They bullied Severus?" Hermione asked, making sure she heard him correctly. She shook her head and redirected her focus. She would come back to that snippet later. "And my mother?"

"In the sitting room with Bill?" Draco said uncertainly. "At least she was when I left to come up here and wait for you to wake up."

"How is Bill? I thought he would have gone to the resistance camp." Hermione said.

"I don't think he is ready. From what I understand, he and the Lovegood girl were something special to each other."

"When did that happen?"

"Apparently while they were here before the Battle of Hogwarts," Abraxas said and Hermione nodded.

"What about-" Hermione began but was cut off by Lucius.

"Bellatrix went to make Lestrange Manor livable, Potter went back to his witch and everyone else waiting for him. James, Regulus, and Sirius want to come and thank you in person, but Harry told them it would be best to wait at camp for now. Minerva is still a pain in the arse but keeping her fighters contained or focused on the manhunt for Voldemort's followers, most of which are still in our dungeons."

"What are you going to do about that?" Draco asked interestedly.

"Azkaban is a terrible option at the moment. The Dementors have bred and overrun most of the lower levels. Plus, it is going to take a long time to figure out who is legitimately there and who is just being held on Tom Riddle's orders. I think we will have to house the poor sods in the Malfoy dungeons."

"We don't have to keep them in the torture chamber though," Draco said going slightly green at the remembrance.

"There would be no escapees. No accidents. It would be convenient."

"Hecate insinuated that the room was hers to control," Sigurd said.

Abraxas snorted, "Tell you that, did she? I dare say she would have said anything to heighten your fears so that you would go back to the room and accept those five years. Did it ever occur to you to just ignore her and to destroy the door? It would have saved us so much bloody hassle."

Sigurd colored, and his hands clenched the oak spindles on the bed frame. "No…"

"That's not fair," Hermione protested. "You don't know what would have happened if he didn't go back."

"That is true, but I have a feeling that nothing would have happened and that everything we went through to get him back was all his fault."

"As if you have never done anything to put Hermione in danger," Sigurd growled. "You forget, Abraxas, that I have been watching her for a very, very long time. Your part has not gone unnoticed."

Abraxas rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his body. "We are just going to have to agree to disagree,"

Hermione sighed and lifted her hand to caress Lucius' face as he continued to lay kisses over her nightgown.

His fingers delved under the hem and lightly traced the inside of her thigh, leaving delicious tingles behind. With the teeniest amount of pressure, he coaxed her to spread her thighs wider and wider until his fingers danced at the apex of her thighs, tracing her plump lower lips through the thin material of her knickers.

All fighting abruptly stopped as their eyes followed Lucius' fingers, watching as her juices soaked through for their perusal. Draco dragged his hand under the neckline of her nighty and palmed a breast, rubbing and flicking her rapidly hardening nipples. A sharp intake of breath from Hermione brought her spectators closer. Fingers burrowed under the waistband of her knickers and pulled them gently away from her body. She whined as Lucius's fingers stopped their caressing.

The bed next to her knees dipped and she felt a soft wet mouth suck on the skin of her other thigh.

Hermione reached up and dragged Draco's mouth down to hers, feasting on his lips. She could feel his erection on her back and arched, rubbing against him deliciously. Moaning into his mouth as hands spread her thighs further. Lucius' fingers still circled her clit and Sigurd's mouth was getting closer and closer and closer…

The bed next to her shoulder dipped and strong firm hands guided her nighty up and up, forcing her to separate from Draco lips to shed the garment, leaving her naked amongst her men who were still fully clothed. She would have to change that.

Abraxas' lips closed over her nipple at the same time Draco reclaimed her lips. She was drowning in bliss. Drowning with the sensations of many hands and mouths on her body. Finally, finally, lips closed over her clit, sucking, licking the engorged nub. Hands encouraged her to bend one of her legs and lifted it onto a shoulder. Another set of lips trailed her inner thighs, fingers teasing her opening, never plunging in. Hermione tried to writhe, tried to encourage those questing fingers to probe further, to beckon from the inside, hitting that most sensitive spot.

"Flip her," Lucius whispered, and Draco pulled away, helping all the other hands move her to her knees.

She looked back up at Draco and her stomach clenched at the cocky lust on his face. She smiled slow, sensuously, and reached for his trousers, rubbing his hard length through the fabric. He made quick work of opening them and Hermione reached inside the placket drawing him out. She blew on the purple tip, making a shudder race through his body, before engulfing his head with her mouth.

"Fuck yes," He hissed as she slid his cock past her lips.

A mouth found her clit again, flicking the sensitive bundle rapidly, making her legs shake. Hands on her back steadied her seconds before she felt the blunt tip of a cock prodding her entrance. She hummed her approval, earning her another sexy sigh from Draco as he flexed his hips.

Slowly, so slowly, her pussy was filled, stretched exquisitely, clenching around hard cock. Lucius' groan filled the room as he bottomed out, fingers digging into the flesh of her hips. She bucked back onto him unconsciously as Sigurd's tongue kept up with its onslaught of her clit, bringing her closer to the edge.

Abraxas nipped at her breasts, sucking them, pinching them between his nimble fingers. The sensations he was drawing out seemed to be connected like a livewire directly to her clit, making her pulse against Sigurd's tongue. All of the sensations were overwhelming, and she knew it wouldn't be long.

Lucius rocked into her, faster and faster, snapping his hips against hers, pushing her mouth further on Draco's cock. She sucked, twirling her tongue against the underside of his cock, paying special attention to his slit on the upstroke.

"Ah," Draco said throwing his head back as he sucked in air, fisting his hand in her hair while coating her throat with his seed. She sucked him clean, licking up every drop.

"What a dirty girl," Abraxas said as Draco moved, and he took the spot that was vacated. His trousers were gone, his shirt unbuttoned, and Hermione lifted her hand to run her nails lightly over his stomach.

She couldn't concentrate, not yet, not when Sigurd backed off of her clit for the third time.

"Damn it Sigurd," she growled in frustration and clenched her teeth as he chuckled against her folds.

And then Lucius shifted, hitting her back wall. Just. Fucking. Right. Sigurd latched on to her clit just as she careened over the edge, screaming with her release. Lucius climaxed as another powerful wave overtook her, her whole-body clenching down. He kissed her shoulder and pulled out, loudly admiring the view of his seed leaking down her thighs. Rough hands caressed her arse, spreading her open amid the happy noises her voyeurs were making at the sight.

With a whispered charm, she was clean again. Abraxas pulled her up on his lap, encouraging her to straddle his body. He rubbed her sensitive clit and Sigurd reached around to pinch her nipples and roll them between his fingers. She was hot, so hot. Their fingers induced another lust filled haze and Hermione couldn't help rolling her hips against Abraxas' erection.

She lifted her arm and wrapped it around Sigurd's neck behind her.

"I thought you wanted something slower, something in that big bed of yours," Hermione panted.

"I do but that will have to come later. I can't be a part of this and yet walk away without having you," He pulled her up a bit, running his cock between her folds before sinking in to the hilt. Abraxas grabbed the back of her neck dislodging her arm from Sigurd while bringing her lips to his, forcing her body closer, letting her clit grind against his cock even as she was taken from behind.

She nearly purred as her nipples ground against Abraxas' body, his light chest hair tickled her dusky nipples. His tongue was caressing her own, sucking her lips, making them plumper from the attention. She moaned into his mouth as she felt the familiar build up leading to her bliss.

Sigurd thrust evenly watching as he buried his cock in her glistening slit over and over, admiring the view from behind.

"Sigurd?" Abraxas muttered, and the Viking pulled out, letting Abraxas fill her, watching as she rode him for all she was worth. He pumped his cock a few times, dragging his hands over her arousal, coating his fingers with it. Tentatively, he caressed her cleft with his fingers.

Hermione drew in a surprised breath and moaned. It felt good. No, better than good, amazing. She shuddered as he pressed against her, pushing the tip of his finger inside. She was gone, her orgasm an explosion in her mind.

Abraxas shattered with her, grinding into her as he let her body wring out every ounce of his seed.

He slipped from her and Sigurd was there, pushing back into her, finger still in her bum.

"Merlin," she choked. It was too much. She couldn't do it again yet. She was going numb.

"One more, Elskede," he whispered, dropping kisses on to her neck.

"I can't," she said.

"Yes, you can,"

They groaned together as he hit that sweet spot and her body clenched around him. His cock stroked that spot over and over and over until she was a whirling mass of feelings. She arched her back, pussy throbbing in time to his dual thrusts, clenching around both cock and finger.

"Come for me," he demanded softly. For the final time, she came undone, completely shattered as he pulled his finger out of her and sped up his thrusts. He was a fiend chasing after his completion, flesh smacked against flesh, loud breathing from her watchers echoed in her head, blood pounding in her ears.

"Fuuck…" Sigurd cursed as he stilled, body pumping his release into hers.

He pulled out and collapsed onto the bed next to Abraxas. Hermione was sprawled over Abraxas' spent body and struggled to catch her breath.

She lifted her head to catch the dark lustful eyes of Lucius and Draco. "Let's do that again," she said.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Right now?"

Hermione laughed breathlessly. "How about tomorrow?"

"Mother would be ecstatic to have Bast for a while every day," Draco said, highly amused.

"Excellent. It's a date," she mumbled as she fell back asleep.

Chapter Text

Epilogue Part I

Hermione laid on a large blanket on the hill overlooking the unicorn glade, staring at the clouds in the sky, enjoying the high-pitched laughter of children as Bast, Denna, and Layla crawled over Draco and Abraxas. She ran her hand lightly over her huge pregnant belly, excited to welcome her fourth child, Imogen.

Bast stood, taking Layla with him as he began to twirl in circles. The giggling two-year-old in her older brother's arms screamed, "faster, faster."

"What are you thinking about?" Draco asked, running his fingers lightly through Hermione's curls now that he was kid free.

"I am just so happy, so content. I didn't expect that." she murmured with a smile but was distracted by Denna's conversation with Abraxas.

"Look, Denna, that cloud looks like a dragon!"

"No, it doesn't silly Papa! It looks like an Augurey!"

"And what do you know of Auguries?"

"They like the rain,"

"Oh?"

"And death,"

Abraxas sighed and ran his hand down his face. Who would have thought that little sweet Denna would be the one with the darker outlook on the world? Then again, Hermione was pregnant with her while the whole Hecate thing was going on. Maybe he shouldn't be so surprised. She was smart as a whip, just like her mother. However, she had an uncanny knack for the darker side of the magical world as if it drew inspiration from her mind alone.

Hermione smiled, amused with Denna's answers and how they always seemed to throw her daddies for a loop.

"How can you not be happy, married to me?" Draco purred running his fingers over the curve of the outside of her breast.

Hermione snorted. "If you were anything like you were third year, this marriage wouldn't be a happy one."

He brought his hand to his chest as if mortally wounded and gasped for air. "Evil woman,"

Hermione laughed. Just then Bast dropped down beside her absolutely winded from twirling Layla around in circles.

"What time are we going over to Uncle Harry's?" Bast asked, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

"Soon. Evangeline's party isn't supposed to start for another two hours. Be patient."

"But Teddy and I were going to try out the new tree house at the Burrow! Uncle Harry built it just for us!"

"I tell you what when Daddy Lucius gets back, we will all go over to Uncle Harry's early. I bet Aunt Ginny would love the help anyway."

"What kind of help do you think you will be?" Abraxas snarked, looking meaningfully at Hermione's huge baby bump. A bump that was much larger than she had ever had with Denna or Layla. Maybe the Healers counted were wrong. They could also make mistakes from time to time.

"When I said Ginny would love the extra help, I was implying that my wonderful husbands would willingly take some of the burdens off of their shoulders. After all, they are some of the closest family we have."

Draco grumbled something over his shoulder, almost too low for Hermione to catch.

"What was that Dear?" Hermione asked with a mock glare.

Draco rose his eyebrows and pursed his lips. He was not foolish enough to repeat whatever it was he said but at the same time was too stubborn to take it back.

The rival between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter would never really dissipate despite the closeness of the families. It was just one of those things.

Hermione's lips twitched just long enough for Draco and Abraxas to notice, earning herself a sexy wink in return by Abraxas.

Hermione sighed as the merriment of the moment receded and she thought about the energy it would take to get up. She rolled onto her left side and pushed until she was on all fours… the only way she could seem to get up off the ground these days. She really couldn't wait until Imogen was born.

Abraxas stood with her, helping her as much as he could but midway to standing, there was a loud snap and gush. Waist down, Hermione was soaked.

"You're a month early…" Draco murmured, a slightly hyper look in his eye. You would think that after watching her give birth twice would make him a pro. Nope. He was still squeamish as hell.

After a pause, Abraxas swung Hermione up into his arms and the small troop booked it back to the Manor. Denna ran forward and grabbed Hermione's hand in a death grip. Layla was swept into Draco's arms wide-eyed, clutching at the lapels of his shirt.

Bast was clearly torn between excitement and disappointment. On one hand, he would be getting a new sibling and he would get to stay at Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny's for several days. On the other hand, the party for Evangeline would probably be canceled. Perhaps he could talk them into inviting Teddy over too. Uncle Sirius would never say no to either of them, he was sure of it.

Hermione breathed in sharply through her nose, obviously experiencing the first of many contractions. It was mild, but she felt as if this time there wouldn't be hours of waiting. The feeling was deep in her bones. Imogen was coming fast.

"Hurry Brax," she whispered urgently. It had only been several minutes between her contractions as opposed to the first two times that started off slow. Twenty minutes at least at irregular intervals for nearly a full day in advance with Denna. Then again, she had had a wicked backache for two days but at the time she put it down to just the heavier than normal baby bump. That was another concern of hers… both Denna and Layla were under eight pounds at birth and there was no way this baby was anything less than ten. But if she could face down Voldemort for years, allow Bellatrix into her life post-war, and marry the Malfoys…. Then she could deliver this huge baby.

Hermione's eyes slid closed as they passed through the greenhouse doors, met by a host of nervous looking house elves. It was the magic of birth, she knew, that called to them. It was just part of the bond between a bound elf and their master. They would be where they were needed, silent, and eager to serve.

Draco left them to floo the healer, Layla still in his arms. No doubt he would reach out to Harry on Hermione's behalf as he had both times prior and send the girls over earlier than planned. Bast was fast on his heels. Denna was the only one who hesitated, gripping Hermione's hand even harder.

"Denna, Honey, go with Daddy. Everything will be fine, and you will have a ton of fun with Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny. Remember Evangeline is having a party today. You will have a blast!" Abraxas said soothingly.

"What if Mummy dies like Bast's Mum?" she said in a quiet worried voice.

"Did Mummy die when Layla was born?" He added.

Denna shook her head still stubbornly gripping onto Hermione. Abraxas had to stop to avoid dragging Denna further away from the room that Draco decided to use the floo in. It had been close and convenient.

"I will be fine, Sweetheart," Hermione murmured giving Denna a tiny squeeze back. "In a few hours, one of your daddies will come and get you so that you can meet your new sister,"

"What if I don't have a sister. What if I have a brother?"

"Then we will love him just the same," Hermione said, trying to make Denna feel better and also trying not to scare the child as a new wave of pain crashed over her, her stomach a hard ball of contracting muscle.

Denna finally released her hand and said. "I love you, Mummy. Please don't die,"

"I love you too Sweetie," Hermione panted and the moment the door had shut behind Denna, Abraxas took off at a run, dying in silence as the muscles in his arms burned with hellfire. No matter how strong he was, carrying his pregnant wife over such a great distance while trying to calm his daughter down was no easy feat.

They made it to the spare room that they had dubbed the Birthing room just in time for Hermione to pant out a tiny, "Oh, Oh, I've got to push, Abraxas, I need to push!"

"No pushing until I have checked your cervix," the healer said as he bustled in right behind Sigurd and Lucius. Draco followed within seconds, child-free.

Hermione growled at him. Teeth bared, lips curled back, evil stare, and everything.

Had the healer not been present at the first two Malfoy births, he might have tread lightly. As it was, he knew the worse that would happen was a black eye. She did have a wicked right hook and made a mental note to steer clear of her hands. He looked behind his shoulder at the Medi-witch who was currently serving with him and decided that if anyone was going to have to get in range, it would be her. She was a tough old bird anyway. She could handle it.

"Then get your fucking arse over here because she is coming!" Hermione tried not to push but that was agony as the child decided to make her own way out into the world.

"Breathe," the Medi-witch soothed with a smarmy, superior look.

Hermione prayed that she would get closer, just an inch would do.

By the time the Healer was close enough to check her cervix, Imogen was already crowning, a fluffy cloud of reddish curls proceeding her.

"With the next contraction Imogen's head was out and after another big breath, the child was separated from her, in the arms of the surprised Healer. Sigurd stepped forward to cut the cord as had been agreed months ago.

"It's a girl," Sigurd murmured aloud almost amusedly. Imogen was, after all, prophesied.

"Imogen," Hermione whispered.

The healer moved Imogen over to the small table that had been equipped with the best of the best birthing equipment, a small dimple between his eyebrows as he frowned.

"Everything alright?" Abraxas asked.

"She seems to be having a bit of oxygen deprivation. I would feel better if we took her to St. Mungo's early delivery ward so that we can monitor her. Why don't one or two of you come with Imogen while Medi-witch Agnus helps with the after birth and prepares her to be moved over to the hospital,"

Sigurd and Abraxas nodded, leaning down to kiss Hermione sweaty brow.

"I want to hold my baby," Hermione demanded.

After receiving the harsh glares of the entire family, the Healer laid Imogen in her arms all the while huffing that they should not be delayed. Hermione laid the naked child on her own naked breast and stroked her back, smiling as Imogen nuzzled closer.

"I really do have to take her. We wouldn't want this to turn into a dangerous situation," the healer said from a safe distance near the door.

Hermione nodded but tearfully handed her newborn over to Abraxas and watched as Abraxas, Sigurd, and Imogen left.

The afterbirth was easy to pass, especially now that Hermione's mind was on other more important matters, like reuniting with her daughter.

Just as Hermione thought she was done, another great contraction compressed her womb.

"What is happening," Lucius asked taking Hermione's hand in his own.

"I don't know," the Medi-witch mumbled, looking more confused than the rest of them as she stared at the second tiny head trying to make its way out of Hermione's birth canal.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Draco demanded shrilly. Hermione could only grunt as she pushed.

"I don't know," the Medi-witch said, shaking her head. "There was only supposed to be one!"

"Aren't you a midwife?!" Lucius demanded.

"I'm still training. I didn't get into this profession until after the war!" the elderly woman said.

"Didn't you have any children of your own?" Lucius pushed.

The Medi-witch shook her head.

Hermione grunted again, curling her toes as she tried to push the baby out. This baby wasn't coming out as easily as Imogen had.

"Fuck it," Lucius said, deciding on something. "Draco floo Severus!"

Draco didn't even bother to nod before he sprinted out of the room and into the one next door which held the nearest connected fireplace.

"Well don't just stand there," Lucius growled. "Help her deliver the child!"

This seemed to snap the Medi-witch out of her shock. Several minutes of useless pushing passed before Severus ran into the room, Narcissa following with a rather large bag of potions, shutting the door behind her.

"Move out of my way you useless Twit!" Severus barked as Narcissa used her wand to cleanse his hands to the elbows.

"Well, I never!" the elderly woman huffed.

"How long has she been like this?"

"There hasn't been any progress, but it has only been a few minutes."

Severus did a quick examination, nodding and shaking his head in turn. "The baby's shoulder is stuck on her pelvis bone. I am going to try to adjust it. Hermione, this is going to hurt,"

She nodded, focused entirely on the pain, contractions, and pushing. Subconsciously she heard and understood but she was in the zone.

Snape reached in with his hand and tried to manipulate the infant and after several moments, he let out a relieved sigh, just as the baby's head made its way out.

"One more push," he said, and Hermione pushed with everything she had.

"It is a boy," Snape said cutting the cord without ceremony and walked the child to the table to clean and examine the boy to make sure he was healthy.

Once the baby was free of Hermione's body, it was like a dam broke, a huge gush of blood soaked the bed beneath her. Snape turned back around leaving the baby with the Medi-itch and nearly lost his shit. He had seen many things, many deaths, and he knew that it wouldn't take Hermione long to bleed to death with this amount of flow. He was not going to allow that to happen. Not on his watch. Not after everything.

"Narcissa, a blood replenisher," Severus grabbed his wand and began a series after series of diagnostics. Muttering incantations to slow the blood loss as Lucius struggled to sop up the blood from between her thighs. Narcissa tipped the vial into Hermione's mouth slowly. Hermione swallowed weakly, fading fast.

Hermione laid on the master bed hemorrhaging in front of their very eyes. Her sweaty skin was white and pasty, and her eyelids were drifting shut.

"Keep your eyes open!" Lucius ordered her as he tried to help staunch the flow of blood. The scene smacked too close to the truths told in Hecate's room, but Prophecies were never a sure thing and just because she lived in those truths did not guarantee her ultimate safety. Despite what Hecate promised.

The newborn baby wailed as Narcissa cleaned him up, taking over for the Medi-witch that was badly needed at Hermione's bedside. Maybe she would be better at trauma than with a surprise twin birth.

"Please," Lucius said, "don't die!"

Snape appeared at Lucius' elbow and moved him out of the way, trying everything in his power to fix Hermione before she bled out onto the white linens.

"Won't," Hermione mumbled almost incoherently. Her eyes slid shut and she stopped breathing.

"No," Lucius said, shock transforming his face before the rage took over, "NO!"

"Enervate," Snape yelled, and nodded with relief when Hermione drew another breath.

"We need another blood replenisher," the Medi-witch said and Narcissa pulled one out of the satchel that Snape had brought with him and handed it to the woman, taking the small child out of the care of the clearly incompetent woman.

"Thanks," the Medi-witch murmured, a blush staining her entire face.

After several nerve-wracking minutes, Hermione was finally stabilized. Snape had found the tear in her uterus when the placenta detached and had cauterized the wound. They all took a deep relieved breath.

"What kind of Healer are you?" Snape growled at the Medi-witch.

Furious pounding began at the door seconds before three frantic male voices demanded entry.

"Let them in," Snape barked at the woman who nearly cost Hermione her life.

"What happened?" Draco demanded.

"Everything is fine," Snape said. "Hermione had a near-fatal complication, but I was able to save her. Although, I doubt she will be able to have any more children."

"Five is enough for us," Sigurd agreed as he looked around and stared wonderingly between Hermione and his newborn son. The child they didn't even know was due to be in their lives yet. What an unexpected miracle.

Narcissa walked up to them, the child in her arms. "What are you going to name him?" she asked them.

"Klaus," Lucius said from behind. "Ever since she was pregnant with Denna, the boy name that she always wanted to use was Klaus."

Sigurd cradled the tiny infant against his huge body, admiring the soft brown hair on his head.

"Can I hold him?" Hermione said weakly from the bed. Sigurd turned to her and gave her the biggest, most adoring look in all the world.

"You did good, Mama," he murmured as he laid the infant in her arms.

"Severus?" Hermione said from the bed as she ran her fingers through Klaus' dark curly hair.

He turned and looked at her with one brow hitched in question.

"You should be a healer,"

Snape bared his teeth at her in a growl, even as the rest of the room erupted into relieved laughter.

"I would rather gouge out my own eyes. I would rather resume teaching potions. I would rather…"

"The return of Voldemort?" Lucius smirked, baiting his old friend.

Snape rolled his eyes. "I have no idea why I even come here if this is the abuse I can expect to receive."

"Awe, Severus, you know we treasure your friendship," Hermione murmured. She smiled tenderly as Klaus began to suckle. "Can we go to the hospital now? Imogen needs me,"

"Go ahead and rest Love," Abraxas said sweeping the damp curls out of her face. And Hermione did just that as she let her eyes drift shut with the comforting weight of one of her babies against her skin. None of her husbands would ever let anything happen to her or their children.

She truly felt loved and cherished. The luckiest woman in the world.

When she woke up, it was to the shushing noises of two of her husbands, each holding a tiny bundle cradled in their arms.

"You are finally awake," Lucius said from her the door. Layla was in his arms and Bast was holding Denna's hand behind him. A sharp cry drew most of their attention, all except Denna who wore the most relieved look Hermione had ever seen.

Hermione lifted her arms to her worried daughter as the little girl ran to her, blond tresses flowing behind her. She melted into Hermione's arms with a choked sob, talking a mile a minute, none of which was comprehensible.

"Slow down Sweetie," Hermione murmured into her hair, stroking the small quivering back.

Denna took a big gulping breath and tried to say it again slowly. "Daddy flooed Uncle Harry and told him that you were going to the hospital, that something was wrong. I thought you were going to die."

"Oh Lovey, I'm sorry you were scared. There were some problems, but Grampa Sev came just in time."

"Was it because I have another brother too now?" she asked.

"No. I was bleeding and it took a while to figure out why it wouldn't stop. Your little brother was just an added blessing. A surprise blessing."

Hermione pulled Denna up onto the hospital bed and hugged her close, letting the little girl calm down by having her near. After a little while, she noticed Denna's staring at the new babies, her nose wrinkled in displeasure.

"What's the matter, Denna?" Sigurd asked. He had taken the chair at her bedside moments after Lucius arrived with the children.

"They aren't cute at all," she stage-whispered. "They look like old wrinkly potatoes."

Hermione bit her lips in an effort to hold back her laugh, Sigurd on the other hand, snorted.

"That is how you looked too after you were born," he said pulling out a sketchbook and charcoal pencil.

"That is a lie!" Denna said firmly, highly affronted at ever being compared to a wrinkly potato.

"Think what you want but all babies look funny after they are born."

"All babies except me! Papa said I was the most beautiful little thing,"

"Papa says that about all of you," Sigurd began to sketch the scene in front of him, pretending to ignore Denna's petulant stare.

"Give it a month and the babies will be super cute," Hermione said still stroking Denna's back. "Why don't you go over there and see if Daddy will let you hold Imogen."

Denna wrinkled her nose but pushed off the bed anyway and went to where Draco was murmuring to Imogen.

Sigurd kept drawing, keeping his attention focused on his project, but spoke just loud enough for Hermione to hear. "The Healer pulled me aside and asked if we wanted to find out who the biological fathers were for our kids. I told him we would discuss it. In reality, we all love the children equally. They are all Malfoys, so what does it really matter, but the Healer mentioned having a comprehensive medical history of both parents would be helpful in the long run, especially if one of us falls sick to a genetic predisposition."

"Have you talked to the others?" Hermione whispered.

"They don't care either way. But I think if it is for their health in the future, perhaps it is something worth looking in to. It wouldn't change anything so what harm would it do?"

"How is it done?"

"He would take a small blood sample from each child and mix it with a potion created with blood from all of the potential Sires."

"None of my children's blood is going to leave our presence,"

"Ours either. There is only one potion Master I would trust to do this…" Lucius said from the other side of the bed.

Hermione snorted. "What do you think he will say?"

"Probably something along the lines of how he is taken advantage of. He will say it with a straight face and spoil the children hideously while our backs are turned."

"If he agrees, then let's do it," Sigurd nodded, and their attention was drawn by a chair zooming across the room to land at Denna's side. Denna looked adorably proud of herself. Draco looked a bit stunned- frozen in a half turn to the chair behind him. A chair he was obviously intending on moving for Denna. Apparently, she couldn't wait that long and took matters into her own hands.

"Well done Denna," Abraxas boomed proudly from where he sat, Klaus on his shoulder.

**HGHG**

Five small vials of blood were placed in a holder directly to the right of the cauldron that Snape had been slaving over for hours. Narcissa, unhelpful in the wake of more grandchildren to dote over, left him in a surly bereft mood. He didn't like to share her with anyone, but he knew she would have none of it. Plus, even though he disliked children in general, he had a fondness for the Malfoy spawn.

"And all you have to do is add one of the children's blood at a time?" Hermione asked.

"Well," he sneered. "After you separate the potion. It is a one-use test. When I added the blood of your husbands, the potion had turned a specific color for each. I have recorded them here." He jabbed his finger against the heavily splotched parchment on the table. "When we add the children's blood, the brew will turn the color of the biological father. Simple."

"Okay," Hermione said, bouncing on the balls of her feet, excited to learn more about the advanced potion. Snape merely rolled his eyes, already well acquainted with Hermione and her need to consume information. He let out a long-suffering sigh.

Once the potion had been separated into four little dishes, Severus called to gather the others around to watch.

"Blue for Abraxas, green for Draco, yellow for Sigurd, and red for Lucius," Snape began as he uncorked the first tiny vial. Denna's. "I am going to allow three drops of blood for each dish. Three opposed to one drop will only affect the vibrancy of the result. Any more than that would compromise the result."

The room turned silent as the group waited with baited breath. Curiosity was a powerful thing.

Seconds after the third little drops of blood touched the surface, the potion turned a dark a deep garnet red.

Five smiles lit the room. Lucius was Denna's father. Hermione secretly wondered if he had gotten her pregnant on the balcony against the glass door before he left to get the Hazia for Narcissa. Maybe later they can try an encore performance once she was cleared by the healer… It was something to look forward to, even it was weeks away.

Next, Snape uncorked the vial of Layla's blood and poured the required amount into the next bowl.

As it was with Denna's, the moment the blood hit the potion it changed colors, this time a bright yellow. Sigurd was Layla's father.

Three drops of Imogen's blood were added to the third bowl, turning a dark Slytherin green. Draco.

Now for the last, Klaus. They were pretty sure that both Imogen and Klaus were Draco's but there always was that slim chance that they weren't. There were a few stories floating around. Though improbable, it isn't impossible that twins could have different fathers if they weren't identical. And they were obviously not, being of different genders and all. But as Klaus' blood was added to the last dish, his too turned into the same dark green of Imogen's. Both children were Draco's.

Hermione glanced at Abraxas out of the corner of her eye and noted that he looked slightly disappointed, although she could tell it didn't change anything for any of them.

**HGHG**

Hermione stood in Ollivanders wand shop with quite a bit of trepidation. Bastillion was now eleven and had received his Hogwarts letter the week before.

She was nervous because she didn't know what the wand choosing would mean for him. He had a part of Tom Riddle in him. He was the last Lestrange. He was Luna's son. Adopted by Hermione and the Malfoys. It was a strange melting pot of genetics and circumstance.

Mr. Ollivander bustled back to the front of the shop and handed Bast his first wand. Cherry and unicorn hair, twelve and a half inches. Slightly springy.

Immediately the ledger exploded into a ball of fire, turning the book into a small pile of ash.

"Nope…" Ollivander said seemingly uncaring of the destruction of the books and handed the boy the next wand.

Hazel and dragon heartstring. Eleven inches. Rigid.

This time, a small section of the wooden floor exploded, and the trio ducked to avoid some of the larger splinters. Within seconds the wand was taken from Bast and another was slid into its place.

Yew and Phoenix Feather. Twelve inches. Slightly springy.

A choir of angels sang in the background as golden sparks swirled around the boy.

"An unusual wand for an unusual child. Powerful…" Ollivander muttered.

"Thank you," Bast breathed, all the wonder and feeling of magic settling in his soul as if a piece of himself had been missing his whole life.

Hermione paid, and she bustled him out of the shop determined more than ever to make sure that the part of him that was Tom Riddle stayed dormant. Forever.

**HGHG**

The steam of the Hogwarts Express caused clouds of white smoke to swirl around platform 9 ¾. The Malfoys prepared to send their first child to Hogwarts. Bastillion Lestrange would face much more adversity than any of their other children and this made Hermione sick with worry. What if he was an outcast. What if he was treated cruelly by the entire school. What if he hated it?

Hermione resolved to teach him herself if it came down to it. She didn't eradicate Voldemort so that her son would be abused at the hand of the wizarding world. Though not of her body, it made little difference to her feelings. He felt like hers. And she would do anything to honor Luna. Neville would be at Hogwarts, she reminded herself as she tearfully pulled Bast into her arms.

"I will be fine, Mum," Bast whispered, awkwardly patting Hermione on the back while glancing over her shoulder at the multitude of other people on the platform as they gawked, star-struck, at the large intimidating group of Malfoys, Potters, and Blacks.

Teddy walked up behind them and smacked Bast on the shoulder. "I will look after him, Auntie Mi,"

She rolled her eyes. Teddy was a known troublemaker.

"I'll write every day," Bast promised, backing away as the train whistled for the last call, his luggage already loaded. Hermione walked along the wooden platform, keeping up with his progress. She watched as Teddy led him into a compartment filled with his own friends

**HGHG**

"Ha! Slytherin! Abraxas you owe me a hundred galleons!" Lucius crowed as he read the letter Bastillion sent them last night after the sorting.

It had been a toss-up between that and Ravenclaw- only Hermione saw the Gryffindor in him.

"Tsk," Abraxas rolled his eyes, reaching into his pocket for his bag of gold. "Not Slytherin enough to not end up in Slytherin with a name like Lestrange in this day and age."

"Abraxas!" Hermione said scandalized. "The hat should place him where he is most suited,"

"I'm just saying… not everyone knows he belongs to you, Hermione. They may treat him like the son of a Death Eater."

"That is how they could treat our children,"

"Not bloody likely. How quickly they all forgot our prior allegiance after the war was won. Not complaining, but all the same, we are almost as respected as our wife."

"Do you really think people will be cruel to him?" Hermione worried, biting her lower lip as her stomach rolled with anxiety.

"No." Draco said shooting an unimpressed look at Abraxas. "If there is anyone in the magical UK that doesn't know Bastillion may as well be a Malfoy I would be surprised. They must have been living under the most secluded rock known to man. Has he ever been mistreated by the public before?"

"No,"

"There you go," Draco said. "Bast will be just fine. He is smart, Slytherin, and has all of us on his side. He will be fine. You make it sound as if he is all alone up there in Scotland but remember that Neville is there. As is McGonagall, Flitwick, and Bill Weasley. You know how he felt about Luna- still feels about her, to be honest. He positively dotes on Bast. It's almost shameful to spoil a child so much. And if that isn't enough, I heard that Potter was considering taking the Defense post next year after Professor Winkler leaves."

Hermione visibly relaxed. Bast would be okay. It was the mother in her refusing to let go of the little boy that made his way into her heart so thoroughly. But he was growing up as was natural and right. That didn't make it hurt any less.

"And," Lucius said with a smirk, separating another parchment that had been included and turned it around showing the room what it was. A drawing of a girl deep in thought wearing the Gryffindor insignia. Bast had scrawled her name at the bottom.

Sarah Kettleburn.

"Seems like the boy learned a few things about expressing his feelings from Sigurd,"

Sigurd smirked, raising a single brow in pride. "He is getting better. Adding more detail."

"He is a quick study,"

"Psh," Hermione said. "They are only eleven. It's just puppy love,"

"My feelings for you were more than puppy love," Draco said. "And I liked you before Hogwarts."

"Merlin, help us," Abraxas said. "It has already begun."

"What has?"

"The boy is handsome, intelligent, and has excellent breeding. Don't get in a huff my Dear," He added seeing Hermione puff up in anger. "by breeding I mean how he was raised not his blood status." He rolled his eyes. Clearly, he didn't buy into that dogma anymore. "There will be an endless stream of interested girls. Some he will like, some he will feel indifferent about, and some he will loathe but will be a gentleman and let them all down kindly as he was taught. If he has learned anything from watching us, he will have learned that the right woman is worth waiting for, worth wooing, worth the effort, worth the sacrifices."

Hermione nearly melted into a puddle, right there on the settee as Abraxas stared meaningfully at her.

"And if he isn't a complete dolt, someday, he might even tell her," Eight-year-old Denna quipped from the floor as she played marbles with Layla and Klaus. Imogen was passed out with her head on Denna's back, cuddling like a tiny kitten.

Abraxas rolled his eyes skyward and raked his hand down his face, something that he did often when Denna said something strange. Which was quite often.

"I'll bet you three chocolate frogs he botches the whole thing," Denna said to Layla who just shrugged.

"You two are a bad influence. Look at the girls betting on Bast's love life," Hermione chided Lucius and Abraxas.

Both had the gall to look unaffected by the scolding.

"Look, My Love, I need to get creative where I find my amusements as I enter into my old age…" Abraxas said unapologetically.

"Old age my foot, Brax," She said. "You are not even middle-aged."

"If you count the years before I died the first time, I am bordering into decrepit."

"Good thing you had the body of a thirty-two-year-old when you came back," she teased. "I have no idea what coming back as your real age would have done for your ego…"

**HGHG**

"Look, I'm not saying he got up to as much nonsense as we did when we were in school," Harry said. "but things just happen to the kid. I relate. I do. But we both know that he is brilliant and sneaky. He constantly butted heads with Professor Winkler, the Defense professor. And now its February and the man has gone missing. Good thing I was here anyway running an errand for Dad." Harry said avoiding Hermione's piercing eyes.

"And what does his disappearance have to do with my son?" she asked dangerously.

"I caught him bragging to a bunch of sixth years that is was him that drove Winkler out of the castle."

"He said he did it?" Hermione asked, confirming what she had just heard. Harry nodded. "Bring him in…"

Bast walked into the classroom after Harry called for him, head hung low.

"Professor Potter said you were bragging that you got rid of a professor. That's a very serious thing. What do you have to say?"

"They make my life difficult. It's Terrance Montague, Belcher Flint, and Seth Warrington. They keep trying to toughen me up, propping me up as the next Voldemort. They are always on my case. So, I snapped. I admitted that I did it, to scare them, to make them back off. And it worked. I don't regret it! They started bullying Sarah when they found out that she was a half-blood and that I liked her. I had to protect her. They keep telling me that my blood is pure, and it should stay that way. I'm sick of it!" Bast was breathing fast as if he had run a marathon.

"You told them that you got rid of a professor to scare them into leaving Sarah alone? But you had nothing to do with your professor's disappearance?"

"Yes. I was protecting Sarah! I definitely didn't have anything to do with the professor leaving. He was weird, always treating me like a star pupil. Not pleasant when your classmates corner you after class."

"I see," Hermione said turning to Harry. "Were you aware of the intense bullying that has been going on here?"

"What like Malfoy and us? Or Snape and my dad?"

"Don't you dare make light of this situation Harry Potter."

"I'm not! I'm just saying that kids find a way to bully so that the adults don't find out. Kids can be cruel and sneaky when they want to be."

"Fix this Potter," She said rising from her seat, pointing her finger between his eyes. Harry gulped knowing that she didn't need a wand to be fatal. Not since she had learned to control those natural abilities. "Or else."

Harry nodded and watched silently as Hermione kissed the top of Bast's head before walking out of the floo.

"If there is any more of that going on, tell me right away," Harry said seriously to Bast.

Bast scoffed. "If I always ran to a teacher, my life would just get harder. Don't worry. I'll take care of myself."

"I will watch and do what I can. Come to me if you ever just need a cup of tea and a safe place,"

"Thanks, Uncle Harry!"

"It's Professor Potter now, Mr. Lestrange."

Bast rolled his eyes and strolled out the door.

"Now what the hell happened to Professor Winkler," Harry Potter murmured to himself.

**HGHG**

Sundays were always an exercise in patience and serenity for Hermione. Sunday dinner was the one time a week that all the family came to the Manor. Harry, Ginny, Narcissa, Severus, Bellatrix, Eliza, James, Sirius, Bill, and Regulus converged on the Malfoys. That included all children who were under Hogwarts age during the school year and every single one of them during summer vacation.

Bellatrix had spent years earning her way into Hermione and her children's lives. It was to everyone's surprise when she continued to do well in her new role. Perhaps it was the fact that she lived with Eliza. Perhaps it was a testament to her love for Hermione. Perhaps it was the way the torture chamber twisted her mind. No one would ever truly know.

It was a madhouse. Everyone speaking over each other, laughter filled the room along with a healthy dose of bickering. Sigurd latest drawing was hung as became a weekly tradition. It may have been crazy, but it was her family. And she cherished all the moments they had built together. Who would have thought she would be the cornerstone of such a large, boisterous, and loving family?

Chapter Text

Epilogue Part II

Sigurd sat before his easel, a brush in one hand and his palette in the other, staring at another blank canvas. He knew exactly what he wanted to paint but also wanted to take his sweet time doing it.

His lips curved up into a tender smile. Today was the day he was going to immortalize his wedding night. It had been unusual, their wedding, having made it open for the public to attend. Thousands of witches and wizards from around the world came to witness the event.

Turning back to his easel, he chose the extreme dark to contrast with vibrant colors in the style of renaissance painters. It was one of his favorite styles to paint Hermione with. She was like the light in the darkness that drew him through life and he liked to represent that feeling through his color choices.

Holding the scene he intended to capture in his mind's eye, Sigurd held up his small bit of charcoal to sketch his basic outline. Hermione laying, spread, on his large bed. The heavy green velvet curtains were lashed to the scrolling bedposts. Light filtered in through the sheer curtains, illuminating the breath-taking woman on the bed. Her brunette curls cascaded over his pillows, her hands exploring her own body. Her eyes begging him to come closer, to touch her, to worship her as she longed to do to him.

He closed his eyes as his throat became dry, remembering the hours they had spent making love that night. And every time since. She was still the light in his darkness, leading him to be a better man.

She had given him more than he could have ever hoped for- passion, a family, a home, her love. Each gift more precious than the last.

He set aside the charcoal and took up the brush, hoping to be finished in time for Family Sunday. Although, he would bet Hermione would appreciate a private reveal in this case. A smile grew on his lips as he imagined her reaction.

The last time he gifted her with a nude, she covered his face with her kisses, moving lower and lower, unzipping his trousers, until she was on her knees between his thighs. Once she had freed his cock from the confines of his trousers, she sucked his cock into her mouth. Pouring her attention into pleasuring him. It was one of his fondest memories.

He shifted in his seat trying to get comfortable again but knew until he was finished with the painting, he would be in a severe state of arousal.

**HGHG**

Bast sat quietly observing the boys around him. They gravitated towards him without being fully aware of what they were doing and yet Bast never felt completely a part of their conversations. He was treated with a careful reverence.

They all deferred to him.

Some because of his mother having played a pivotal role in the destruction of Voldemort. Some because they were drawn to the part of him that was Tom Riddle. Some because he was a powerful wizard. And even more because of his kindness. He tried to let it all roll off his shoulders and not let it bother him. Outwardly, he succeeded. Inwardly he was an anxious mess.

"Bast, your sister is standing outside of the common room again."

Bast looked up and smirked, nodding his head in thanks. He stood up and stretched before making his way to Denna.

She was arguing with one of his dormmates in the corridor when he approached. Her blond braids swung menacingly as she quivered with indignation, finger stabbing the bulkier chest of Makas Zabini. Whos eyes were glittering with repressed interest. It was no secret that he loved to tease Denna because she was truly something to behold when angered. Bast rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall waiting for Denna to notice him.

It was also no secret that Zabini was in love with Denna, but it seemed like the only person that didn't know was Denna herself.

With one last screech of frustration, Denna turned her back to Zabini, pointing her now furious glare in his direction. Bast held up his hands. He was Switzerland.

She harrumphed and grabbed his hand pulling Bast back toward the Great Hall, ignoring Zabini's idiotic parting shot. If he ever wanted a chance with Denna in the future, he would have to stop goading her into a fury.

"So…" Bast started as they finally reached the main entrance. He hoped she had cooled off enough so that he figure out what brought her down to the Slytherin den this time.

"Are you okay?" she turned around quickly, so quickly that he almost ran into her. She said it angrily, throwing him completely off balance.

"Am I? What?"

"Are. You. OK?" she said slowly as if he wasn't grabbing the concept of what she was saying.

"Ummm, sure. Are you okay?" Bast asked, feeling as if this was some sort of trap.

Denna sighed and ran her hand down her face, in the same manner, Papa Abraxas did when she said something weird. It was this more than anything that clued him into her feelings.

"What is going on?" He moved closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, lowering his voice as it turned menacing. No one but no one was allowed to hurt his sister!

She steered them into one of the abandoned classrooms right outside of the Great Hall. Once they were alone Denna pulled away and avoided his gaze, adjusting her Ravenclaw tie. "It's Layla again. She is being bullied by the Gryffindors again just because she has these visions, just like Daddy Sigurd. You would think the Hufflepuffs would rally around a little first year and protect her, especially since none of us siblings are in the same house. I do what I can but those Gryffindors are seventh years and they don't take me seriously. She needs you to step in and protect her."

"Who was it this time? I know it wasn't Blythe. He nearly wet himself the last time I confronted him."

"It was Sylvanias Kettleburn," Denna said firmly, knowing that Bast would have a difficult time telling off Sarah's little brother. After all these years, he was still head over heels in love with the new Medi-witch apprentice.

Finally, Bast nodded. "I'll take care of it,"

"See that you do. Oh, and tell Zabini to stop being an arse and leave me alone." Denna said with her nose in the air.

"You tell him yourself," Bast muttered mutinously as he left the room. He went up, taking the stairs two at a time, hoping to catch Kettleburn outside of his common room. He would rather not have to give this dressing down in public.

Things never went that smoothly for him though. Even though Kettleburn was indeed outside of his common room, he was surrounded by the bulk of his housemates.

"Kettleburn, a word," Bast commanded in his low silky dangerous voice. The one he learned from Papa Lucius a long time ago.

The whole hallway fell silent. The boys fidgeted. The girls stared, hoping to catch his eye. But he only had his single arched brow to show that he was done waiting. He wasn't asking. He was telling Sylvanias to come talk.

"What do you want?" Kettleburn sneered. Even now after all the years, and healing since the war Gryffindors still hated Slytherins and vice versa. Except Bast didn't hate anyone. Not really. And he was deeply infatuated with Sarah and would like to be on good terms with her brother. Seems like some wants were just too much to hope for.

"Leave Layla Malfoy alone," Bast said calmly but firmly, twirling his wand in between his fingers. It was well known that he was gifted in magic. More so than even his mother, Hermione Granger.

"What are you going to do if I don't?" Kettleburn sneered. "She is a freak just like the rest of your family."

Students began filing quietly out of the corridor knowing that whatever this was, wasn't going to end well.

"If you don't," Bast drawled. "I will make you and you can ask Blythe how well that turned out for him,"

"Blythe is an idiot."

"And you're not?"

"I can take you,"

"I would like to see you try," Bast said with a snort. Hermione had taught all of them how to duel, knowing that the world wouldn't always be kind to a bunch of Death Eater's children, especially him who had those who wanted to use him as a rallying point and those who had tried very hard, in the beginning, to make sure that a toddler was tossed into Azkaban just because Tom Riddle was in his head.

"What is going on here?" Headmaster Potter asked, giving a nod in the direction of the Pink Lady who had obviously gone for help the moment Bast turned up at Gryffindor Tower. Once upon a time, Bast himself had been bullied, but that was long in the past now that he was widely regarded as the most powerful student at Hogwarts. It was surely out of fear of Hermione's wrath that the Headmaster kept such close watch on his nephew.

"Nothing," Kettleburn said triumphantly. He obviously thought this was a win in his favor. Oh, how wrong he was.

"Mr. Lestrange is there something you want to tell me?" Harry asked.

"Kettleburn has been bullying Layla and I merely came to ask him to leave my sister alone."

Harry turned to Gryffindor. "Is this true?"

Kettleburn remained stubbornly silent.

"Detention Mr. Kettleburn with Professor Black. He was just telling me that he needed some students to scrape the goo off the bottom of the tables in the Transfiguration classroom."

He perked up for a moment. Sirius Black was the coolest teacher they have ever had! It wouldn't be a punishment at all.

"But since he plans to go on a two-month leave for personal reasons, you will have to spend it with his substitute."

"Who's that?" He asked

"Narcissa Snape," Harry said with a twinkle in his eye. Narcissa was a renowned war hero whose deadly exploits at the final battle were loudly proclaimed across every single newspaper after the war. No one in their right mind would mess with the woman now. And that wasn't even considering that the woman was married to the scariest man alive. Severus Snape. Kettleburn gulped, appropriately chastised.

"And don't think you are getting off scot-free, Lestrange," Harry said.

"What did I do?" Bast asked outraged.

"I know what you did to Blythe. If I hadn't come, you would have done the same thing to Kettleburn."

"There is nothing in the handbook that says that I can't turn him into a ferret."

"Yes, there is, in fact. It was implemented specifically in my fourth year. You should ask Draco about that sometime…" Harry was obviously wickedly amused. Bast smirked, intending on doing just that.

"You may go, Mr. Kettleburn but it would behoove you to remember to treat others as you wish to be treated in the future."

"Yes Headmaster," He grumbled as he shuffled away towards dinner.

"What do you say we head down as well?" Harry asked Bast. "How is everything going this year?"

"Things are good. I'm so ready to take my N.E.W.T.s. I'm a little bored, to be honest. I feel like this last year was a waste of time. Time, that I could have spent in an apprenticeship."

"Have you decided what you want to do?"

"I thought I would take a year and do a world tour. See what was out there. Learn new magic in the real world. Take my time. I don't want to work at the Ministry. That would be a disaster. Or any other desk job. I want to practice amazing magic, but I want to do it on my terms. Maybe I will just learn as much as I can about obscure magic like Hecate's portals and try to reconstruct something similar without trapping someone inside the enchantment. It would be a bloody brilliant way to travel. No soot, no windswept hair, no squeezing compression."

"Watch your mouth," Harry warned indulgently.

"It would even be safe for family use," Bast continued without hearing Harry's admonishment. "What a relief that would have been when Imogen was younger. She hated using the floo. Screamed like a Banshee,"

Harry and Bast parted at the doors of the Great Hall. Bast pushed through and scanned the Hufflepuff table searching for Layla. It didn't take long. Her white blond curly hair stuck out like a red flag to a bull. He never had problems finding his sisters in a crowd. Klaus, on the other hand, was small and looked more like their mum.

He dropped his bag beside her, plopping down on the bench with her catching Denna's eyes from the opposite side. Layla didn't seem to mind being semi shunned by the other students. But that is just how she was. Always so happy and serene. The complete opposite of Denna.

"Let me know if Kettleburn gives you any more trouble," Bast said loading mashed potatoes on his plate and then a scoopful on Layla's. For every portion he took, he added the same but smaller to Layla's plate. She had a tendency to forget to eat when she was working on something. And she was knee-deep into her latest drawing.

Imogen and Klaus sniffing buttercups.

Bast smiled. "You are getting really good!"

"Thanks," she said brightly, pausing long enough to pop a few carrots into her mouth.

"So, what did you do to him?" Denna asked loud enough so that the Gryffindor's would hear.

"Nothing," Bast said lowering his voice. "The Headmaster was tipped off and booked it to catch us in the act. The joke is on him. He arrived too early to see what I would have done to Kettleburn if he had waited. Kettleburn needs a good thrashing."

"Tell me about it," Denna mumbled in between bites of dinner.

"Now I know where all the pretty girls are eating," Zabini slid into the seat next to Denna's and reached for a goblet of pumpkin juice.

"What the hell do you think you are doing, Zabini?" Denna asked archly.

"Eating?" he said in a mock-innocent voice.

"Go back to your own table!"

"Make me," Zabini said with a pleased smile.

Bast rolled his eyes and looked at Layla who looked as if she was going to bust out in laughter any moment. "What is so funny?"

"He is going to marry her someday," Layla said just loud enough for them to hear and it shut Denna and Zabini up fast. Both blushed deep red and avoided the others gaze.

"That," Denna said. "Is not bloody likely,"

The hope in Zabini's eyes died in seconds.

"Especially if he lets your bad attitude sway him into leaving you alone," Layla said with a lovely, unassuming smile, reminiscent of their Nana Snape's. And the hope was right back, leaving Zabini smirking for the rest of the meal.

**HGHG**

Harry sat behind his desk in the Headmasters office and steepled his fingers together, letting his lips rest against them. There was no longer denying things anymore. They had a serious situation on their hands and the note laying flat on his desk was not the first warning.

The floo flashed emerald green for several seconds as Hermione Malfoy walked through.

"Well?" she asked sitting primly in the chair opposite. "What was so important that you felt the need to call for this emergency meeting?"

Harry pushed the parchment across the desk and watched as she read it. Indifference was the only emotion he could glean.

"Now we know what happened to Professor Winkler all those years ago," Hermione said deeply amused.

"This is not a funny situation. This could easily turn into the old days were families were murdered, masters were recruited, and people went mysteriously missing!"

"I think that is rather dramatic," Hermione deadpanned. "This probably has more to do with me than it does anything dangerous. I am the one who told Bellatrix that she cannot have any sort of contact with the kids unless I am there. If he fell to her charms all those years ago, she would have told him that it was out of the question because he was Bast's teacher."

"Then why just up and leave?"

"I don't know. Maybe it was a grand gesture on his part to show her that he is serious about her."

"She obviously told him no or we would have found out these last six years."

"Bellatrix does not share those kinds of things with me,"

"Eliza would have,"

"I don't know… She believes that as a grown woman those things should remain as private as they want. Bellatrix has been walking on eggshells around me for years. I doubt she would want to upset the boat, especially that one Sunday we made such a huge deal out of Winkler's disappearance. Remember how quiet she was?"

"Good. Then you go talk to her,"

"Harry! If she doesn't want to tell then it is none of our business."

"You of all people think this isn't any of your business? If something shady is going on we need to know about it!"

"Fine, I will floo over now. Happy?"

"Deliriously…" Harry deadpanned.

Hermione snatched the love note Harry's owl intercepted en route to Bellatrix and stuffed it into her robe pocket before taking a pinch of floo powder and speaking clearly the address of her childhood home.

She stepped out of the grate and brushed off her clothes before following the laughing voices to the dining room where she found the oddest scene imaginable.

Eliza was sitting on the lap of some wizard who had wrapped her hand around the wooden handle of his wand and was attempting to show her how to transfigure a teaspoon into a crup. Winkler was across the table caressing the side of Bellatrix's face as she moaned into the very thorough snogging they were engaged in. The table was littered with empty alcohol bottles and dessert had been pushed, forgotten, out of the way. None of the occupants were even remotely sober.

Hermione coughed in shock, turning away to go home, intent on talking to Bellatrix some other time.

"Hermione?" Bellatrix's surprised soprano floated over the scene, popping the idyllic bubble as surely as if she popped it with a pin. Hermione winced. She was the intruder here. "What are you doing here?"

"Harry and I had some questions about Winkler,"

"What about Cyprus?"

"We wanted to know why he left his teaching post without saying anything,"

"Now hold on there!" Winkler said, slurring his words. "I had told Minnie from the get-go that I wasn't staying the whole year. I warned her before that term ever started. I knew Your son was going to attend and Bella had always been firm that we were separate from the family. That I wouldn't mettle in her affairs. Bella and I have been seeing each other for ten years at least! I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize what we have!"

Hermione blinked owlishly, stunned at hearing this news. "I think I may have done you a disservice Bella," Hermione whispered, feeling guilty. "You should bring your companion to Sunday Dinner. You should not have to keep him separate from us. We are your family."

Bellatrix lit up as if Christmas had come early but tried very hard to keep her voice even. A difficult thing while drunk off her arse. "And I didn't want to jeopardize what we had," pointing between herself and Hermione.

Hermione smiled and excused herself, extending the invitation to the wizard holding her mother too. This was something that she never in a million years expected to walk in on. Things were about to change for Sunday dinners. And that wasn't always a bad thing.

Hermione quickly flooed home to the tinkling sound of a whiskey tumbler being set on the marble side table next to the large chair in which Abraxas had been sitting, clearly waiting for her to come home.

"What did Harry want this time? A kidney?" he snickered to himself, enjoying his joke.

"We found Winkler,"

"Oh? Where?"

"Snogging Bellatrix. Apparently, he had given his notice to Minerva that year. He said that he and Bella had been together for years and at the time, she had told him that if he continued to teach Bast she would leave him!" Hermione sighed remembering how ridiculously long it took them to figure out that Minerva was in the beginning stages of dementia. They should have realized that this is probably what happened sooner.

Abraxas chuckled and waved her over, moaning with pleasure as she settled herself on his lap. He pulled her closer and buried his nose in her hair. He loved these quiet moments, just him and her together. Hermione leaned back and studied how the fire danced around the logs burning in the grate.

They stayed like that for hours, just enjoying each other's company, neither one willing to break the comfortable silence.

**HGHG**

Lucius leaned against the door frame as he waited just outside of Hermione's bathroom, smiling as he listened to her singing slightly off-key to the newest boy band song that had been playing on the muggle radio she insisted on listening to in the kitchen.

Today he was going to surprise her as he was wont to do.

Absently, he fiddled with the book in his pocket. It was a recent acquisition, a little manual that he had been hunting ever since Hermione raised them back from the dead.

My Loves, My Life: A Memoir by Cecily Shaklebolt

The small book was the only one of its kind. A female's point of view of the same spell which brought him back to the land of the living.

Hermione opened the bathroom door and screamed in surprise clutching the towel over her heart. "Oh Lucius, I didn't see you there. You scared the hell out of me,"

Smirking, he folded his arms across his chest, slowly raising one of his brows. "I have something for you,"

"Oh?" she murmured as she moved into her room, letting the towel fall from around her body, using the cloth to squeeze the water out of her hair. His hungry gaze raked over her form, admiring just how fit she had stayed after her pregnancy's. Of course, hers was no longer the tight body of a girl, but the curviness of a woman whose body carried his children. Even with the stretch marks and the slight pouch of her abdomen, she was still gloriously beautiful in his eyes.

He felt himself responding to her. Wanting her. His smile grew as he walked up behind her and pulled her naked, wet body into his arms.

"Lucius!" Hermione protested with a laugh, letting her towel fall to the ground. Lucius buried his face in her neck, leaving behind a trail of sucking kisses and letting his stubble rasp over her tender flesh. "Our family will be arriving soon,"

"Let them wait," he murmured against her skin. Skimming one of his hands up her body, he gently cupped one of her breasts, rolling the already hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Hermione leaned her head back against his chest, baring her neck to his attentions. She moaned wantonly. After all of these years, he was still able to make her a puddle on the ground.

Caressing the skin of her stomach, his other hand slid down over her mons, fingers lightly tracing the outline of her nether lips, not quite giving enough pressure to be satisfying. And yet he continued his sucking, his pulling. Hermione raised her hands and reached back for him, tangling her fingers in his long blond hair.

"Lucius," she begged breathlessly. She could feel his mouth curl into a smirk against her throat. Tugging her backward, Lucius molded her body to his, thrusting the evidence of his desire against her lower back.

Finally, his fingers delved between her glistening folds and he found her sensitive nub. Clever fast fingertips circled her clit, his pace finally matching her need.

He began walking them forward until her thighs met the edge of the mattress. Hermione arched back into him, rubbing her bum against his erection. He released a breathy chuckle, "So insatiable,"

"Yes," Hermione praised. Her mind was so far gone, only the feeling of the way he expertly strummed her body, dragging her over the edge, pushing her to greater heights remained.

Colors burst behind her eyelids as she careened off the precipice, shattering in his arms. He pulled his hands away and turned her, hugging her naked body close, cupping her jaw, and tilting it just so. Lips met smirking lips as he leaned in to take a taste.

A sample willingly given.

She kissed him back with abandon, caressing his invading tongue with her own. Reaching between their bodies, Hermione pushed his robes out of the way, fingers deftly undoing his belt. The belt buckle's weight pulled his trousers to the floor and he stepped out of them, shrugging off his own robes. They fell to the floor with a thump, but it was ignored for the moment as Lucius and Hermione let themselves continue to be distracted by each other.

Hermione ran her hands over the planes and valleys of his body, admiring the thick sinuous muscles. And he was all hers.

She looked up at him from under her lashes, letting her own smirk grow. Appreciation gleaming from their expressive depths.

"You are so beautiful," Hermione murmured appreciatively. His smile grew predatory. His hands glided over her back, over her bum, to the backs of her thighs. In one swift movement, he picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. Hermione shrieked and laughed as he crawled over to her. He took her hands in his larger ones and held them down to the bed, leaning in for another sweet kiss.

Hermione wrapped her legs around his hips, helping him line up their bodies so that they could finally be connected.

They both groaned as he slowly pushed into her wet quim.

His pace was agonizingly slow, but she met him thrust for thrust, staring into his needy eyes. He was unguarded, letting her see the depth of his emotion for her, the depth of his love.

Lucius let his eyes slide closed as he shook with the force of his release, resting his forehead against hers, his panting breath caressing her cheek.

He pulled out of her and rolled until he was laying next to her, spent, with a stupid satisfied smile on his face.

Hermione rolled to her side, tracing his chest with her fingers. "So, what do you have for me?"

"A book," Lucius said tiredly, gesturing to his discarded robes. "help yourself."

Hermione climbed over him to rifle through his pockets and sat on her haunches as she pulled the slim tome from the pile of robes on the floor.

"My Love, My life?" Hermione read. Cracking open the book she quickly scanned the first few pages. Her breath caught as it finally sunk in what she was looking at. "Oh, Lucius,"

He smiled as he watched her completely forget everything to begin devouring the rare account. "The family is probably here,"

"They can wait," Hermione echoed his earlier claim.

Lucius chuckled and reached out for a lock of her wild curls as she leaned against the bed to read. He murmured, "You aren't the only one,"

"I never thought I was," She sniffed, rolling her eyes.

**HGHG**

Draco took another sip of whiskey as Winkler threaded his fingers through Aunt Bella's. He had to admit that the wizard was a step up from her previous husband, but it was something that he really just didn't care to see. He wondered, and not for the first time, where Hermione was. She was never late on Sundays.

Lucius strode into the room, making his way directly to the dry bar, more relaxed than he had any right to have been. Draco narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

Lucius poured three fingers of whiskey into a tumbler and made his way across the room to stand next to him.

"Hideous isn't it," Lucius whispered to him gesturing with his eyes the couple on the settee. "Such public display…"

"And where have you been?" Draco asked tightly, taking another sip.

"I was giving Hermione a gift," Lucius said as a grand smile transformed his face.

"Master?" Gilkey the house elf appeared at Draco's elbow and gave a small half-bow.

"Yes, Gilkey?"

"Mistress asked me to tell you that she needs to see you in the library."

"Thank you, Gilkey," Draco muttered. The elf bowed again and left.

Draco set his glass on the tray and made his excuses, walking quickly to the library.

"Everything okay?" he asked as he pushed through the closed double doors.

Hermione was there, on the table next to the fireplace, wearing nothing but a smile, a small thin book inches from her splayed fingers.

"What is this? Not that I am complaining," Draco said as he pulled the library doors shut and locked them, laying a few more privacy wards on top of that. "You usually don't miss Sunday with Bella and Eliza, especially for this. Although," he paused letting his robes fall to the floor and he started undoing the long row of buttons.

"Lucius gave me a new book,"

"Yeah?" his shirt was off and tossed in the general direction of his robes as he walked closer to the table.

"Did you know that just because spell brought a dead house back to life doesn't mean that the bound individuals will experience love. There is no guarantee of happiness. It is merely to ensure the continuation of a deadline."

"That is… interesting," he said as his trousers hit the floor.

"I already knew how lucky I was when you walked back into my life, but this just puts things into proper perspective." She tapped the cover of the memoir. "I don't tell you all enough. I don't show you enough how much I love you. How much I cherish you. You are a brilliant father and an even better husband. And I couldn't bare wasting another minute before telling you. Showing you."

He stood in front of her just as naked as she and he stepped between her thighs, that she had parted for him. Reaching out for her, his finger traced the outline of her generous lips and continued moving forward until their bodies met.

"You had me a lot earlier than when you pulled me out of my death. Dying for you was the best decision of my entire existence and there is not one day that goes by that I don't thank the deities for letting me have a second chance with you."

"Draco," She murmured as tears gathered on her lashes. She cupped his face and ran her thumbs over his cheeks, studying his face. He was as familiar to her as her own reflection. "Thank you for loving me,"

"Thanking me for loving you is like thanking me for having blond hair. It just is," He rolled his eyes, pleased that she called for him, pleased over her words. Happy. He was just happy.

He laid his hands on her hips and pulled her to the edge of the table. Hermione gasped at the sudden movement. Slowly, he kneeled, keeping his steely gaze locked on hers. His tongue flicked out of his mouth, tasting her center.

Hermione laid her palms on the table and arched her back, throwing her head back in bliss. His tongue circled her clit, dipped into her waiting heat. His arms circled her thighs and he pulled her closer to his worshiping mouth.

She panted as the tight coil of tension wound ever tighter in her belly. She went stiff, struggling to breathe, struggling not to cream all over his face after only a handful of skillful licks.

"Let go," Draco muttered, humor lacing his voice.

Hermione shook her head. Refusing.

Draco chuckled and took the sensitive bundle of nerves between his lips and sucked, forcing her over the edge.

"Ahhh," she gasped as her orgasm crashing over her in waves. Her body shuddered and clenched and Draco rose, taking himself in hand, and guiding himself into her still clenching heat.

Juices coated his cock and he admired their joined bodies. Biting his bottom lip, he snapped his hips, hitting her in the precise way she liked. Stroking that spot within her body that set her on fire. Every. Fucking. Time.

The table screeched as it inched across the floor, moving with each thrust, rocking rhythmically in between.

Hermione wrapped her arms around Draco's neck, nibbling on his shoulder, pulling him closer. She licked her way up the straining tendons of his neck, wrapping her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Just like that," she whispered in his ear.

Draco's eyes rolled back and closed, moaning.

"I love the way you move inside me," she continued, knowing he had a fondness for dirty talk. "how thick you are. The way you know exactly how to make me come for you. I need you."

Draco's thrusts grew erratic and she could feel him swelling inside her, getting closer and closer to orgasm.

"Come for me," Hermione whispered as she gently bit his shoulder.

"Fuck," he choked out, stilling as he pumped his seed into her.

She wrapped his hair around her fingers, ran her nails against his scalp, murmured her love and devotion into his ear as he struggled to catch his breath.

"I love that book," he panted. Hermione chuckled continuing to drop kisses on his sweating body as his hands caressed the lines of her body.

**HGHG**

When Hermione and Draco finally rejoined the family, the got a slew of knowing looks from the adults and little more than recognition from the frolicking children. She couldn't help the blush that colored her cheeks. Yes, she was a married adult with a healthy intimate life, but it was quite another thing for everyone to know what she had been doing for the last hour they sat and waited for her.

"Sorry to keep you all waiting," Hermione mumbled, embarrassed.

"Not at all," Eliza snorted. "We were just filling in the rest of the family about our guests and why they have come today, on family day.

"And what a thrilling tale it was," Snape said sarcastically from the wingback chair on the opposite side of the room. Lucius smirked and hid it behind his whiskey.

Bella looked down uncertainly at her hands, obviously waiting for the censure. But it never came.

Abraxas immediately pulled Winkler into a conversation, talking about the merits of teaching a unit of mild dark arts in seventh year Defense classes. It was usually a heavily charged argument, but it happened to be an opinion that everyone in the room shared. How could you defend against something you were forbidden to learn? Snape opinioned that it was like showing sixth years how to brew Amortentia and much, much less dangerous. Amortentia in the hands of hormone-riddled teens was an experiment in madness. No one could disagree with that.

Bella was desperately trying to hide her emotions and choke back the tears that threatened to spill. She had found someone to spend the rest of her life with, a good man, and her family brought him into the fold as if he had every right to be there. She looked up at Hermione's smile as she followed the conversation and knew forgiveness was the greatest, most selfless gift in the world.

**HGHG**

That night, after everyone left and the children were all in bed, Sigurd came bearing a gift. Hermione had wondered why he hadn't unveiled a painting as he did every Sunday but as he lifted the silk away, she knew why.

The Hermione in the painting looked beguiling, seductive, as she beckoned to her lover.

It was the most erotic thing she had ever seen.

Glancing up at Sigurd, she saw the evidence of his need in the lines of his taunt face. And she studied him, admiring how after all these years, he kept to his Scandinavian roots, keeping his hair braided in the style of the warriors of his people. His short beard was groomed meticulously, his robes tailored close to show off his cut form.

He was the seductive one.

Gently, he laid the painting against the wall to finish drying and pulled Hermione into his arms. He took her willing kiss, demanding more. More access. More passion. More everything. And she gave it. Taking just as much as she gave.

Hermione would never get tired of being in the arms of the Malfoy men.