Mrs.Malfoy

Author note: The evil plot bunny has once again awakened. I was tempted to skip the pregnancy, however, the little fluffy rabbit grinned at me with the most malicious intent. Therefore, I press on. I did, however, manage to get permission to pass a couple months by using the allure of a bunch of carrots. With the evil plot bunny safely sequestered in his cage cradling his vegetable with his little paws, I continue with the story!…sorry, WARNING for GRAPHIC IMAGERY QUITE SUDDEN!

Lucius was due to arrive home any moment. Hermione had heard of the disgusting reports of body parts torn away from their owners. Children were maimed in beds as they slept. Muggleborn witches and wizards, the lot of them. Parents were found dead. After the last two months of chaos ensued, there were more orphans than homes. There were more dead than alive in the smaller villages that skirted the country. She had a sinking feeling her husband had something to do with it all. With every new title of the Daily Prophet, Hermione would find herself running to the loo to empty her stomach. It was after one such instance that she emerged from the bathroom to find a package and a missive on the table.

“Put this on and meet me outside by the gardens.”

She opened the box tentatively. There inside was an emerald satin gown with a rather well fitted waist. Hermione sighed. There was no way her belly was going to fit in that thing now. She was already protruding slightly, but barely noticeable. It was just enough to make her loosen her belts a notch or two to be more comfortable. She looked to the note once more. Lucius’ handwriting was extremely recognizable.

Hermione got dressed and affixed her hair into an elegant twist, then proceeded out the back door. There he stood beside the rose bushes. He was almost regal in his fashion., another amenity to being a Malfoy.

“Mrs. Malfoy, thank you for honouring me with your presence,” he stated in a very sincere manner.

Either Hermione was the one suffering from some form of insanity, or Lucius was beginning to be more gentile with her. It frightened her to no end. “Mr. Malfoy, thank you for the invitation,” she responded in greeting. “And for the beautiful dress.” She bowed slightly and took his proffered hand.

“I thought a relaxing evening with dinner in the gardens would suit you well.”

She looked around in a faux amazement. She was really staking out the hedges for any hidden cameras like on those muggle reality shows from the telly. She turned her eyes back to her husband. “Yes, this is extremely acceptable. Thank you for the consideration.”

“You are welcome.”

That was it! Hermione’s mind went into overdrive. What game was he playing? What the bloody hell had gotten into him? Was it a fact that months of mindless, senseless killing actually made the man nice? Hermione dismissed the idea almost immediately. He was up to something.

Lucius even went so far as to guide her to a small intimate table for two and pull her chair out for her. She took her seat and watched in amazement, or horror, as he kissed the back of her hand. “I received a rather exciting message while I was abroad.”

“Oh?”

He took his seat and beamed a smile at her. “The Black House elf, Kreature, was kind enough to relay some information that he received from his mate, Tibby.”

“Tibby?” she asked in shock. Tibby belonged to the Malfoys. “What kind of message?”

“All in due time. Let’s enjoy our evening together,” he replied as he poured her a glass of sparkling water. She noticed this.

“Why not wine this evening?” she asked nonchalantly, averting to any ‘changes’ in her drinking habits.

“Too heavy for the meal, my dear. Please eat something. After dinner, I will retire to my study to finish some last minute paperwork, and you can read a book in the library. I’ll send for you when I am done.”

She accepted that offer graciously. They continued their meal, and then did as he suggested. He went to his study, and she went to the library. It had taken a couple of pages for her to realize she wasn’t alone.

“Who’s there?” she asked of the bodiless breath she heard.

“Dobby, Misses.”

“Dobby, why are you hiding? What is wrong?”

He began to cry and hit himself over the head with a rather large tome. “Dobby didn’t do as Misses demanded. Dobby is bad elf!”

She grabbed the book from his hand and looked at him sternly. “What happened, Dobby? You’ve done well these past two months. What’s gone wrong?”

His saddened eyes looked into hers. “Dobby couldn’t find Tibby.”

“Tibby? That’s the second time I’ve heard her name tonight. What is going on?” she asked.

“Tibby gots away from Dobby before Dobby could take Tibby’s memory away. Tibby sent Master’s owl before Dobby could stop her.”

She blanched. Lucius knew about the baby.

“And why would you stop her, Dobby?”

Hermione froze. She slowly turned her head to see Lucius standing in the doorway leaning ever so boldly against the frame, looking on while he picked something from underneath his fingernail.

Hermione thought fast. “So, you know about…”

“The baby? Yes, I do.”

She began to cry. Her body twisted to face away from her husband, and she placed her head in her hands.

Lucius looked at her perplexed momentarily. “What is wrong with that? Is there something I should know?”

She shook her head. “I just…I thought that if I told you personally as a surprise that I might gain favour with you. I didn’t want the house elves telling you. I wanted to be the one. I wanted to surprise you. Now, you’ll never see me as anything more than a stupid little mudblood.,” she said through faux tears.

He squinted his eyes trying to ascertain if she was being truthful. He could find no fault her theatrics. “I will always see you as a mudblood. Now, I see you as a bit more. You will mother this child but that is where your duties end. You will do well to remember your place. This child is a Malfoy and will be raised as such. I have arranged for the child to be raised by Tibby and Kreature so that the baby will know where he or she belongs in this world. I won’t have a filthy mudblood giving it ideas of equality and rights. Mudbloods will never be equals.”

He was almost to the door when he heard a mutter. “What was that?”

She stood slowly and turned to him with a look of pure loathing; the first time she actually showed it in his presence. “This child, my child, has Muggleborn blood, as well. You’ll do well to remember that, Mr. Malfoy.”

He was standing in front of her in a matter of seconds, with his hand raised. Her voice stopped his actions.

“Do it! Do it and see if I carry this child to term!”

She had no intention whatsoever to carry out her threat, but she needed to tell him something before she was struck. For all she knew, he could cause her to have a miscarriage.

He stepped back and glared at her from head to toe. Lucius then reached for her chin and tilted her head up to look her straight in the eye. His nose almost touched hers. “When this child is born, I will dispose of you. Heed my words, mudblood.” With that, he strode quickly out of the library.

When she was sure he was quite far from the room and the room was warded successfully, Hermione sat back down with a huff. “Not if I dispose of you first.”

She hadn’t heard from Lucius in two weeks. He seemed to have made himself disappear. Hermione didn’t mind. The further he was from her the better. She took the fourteen days to examine her mental notes on everything she found regarding her newfound pureblood status. She could find no flaws, no mistakes, no possible misinterpretations of any kind in the research. Now, all she had to do was wait for the most opportune moment; the most opportune moment to bring Lucius to his knees and make him beg her for mercy.

You see, when one is a pureblood, true and steadfast in lineage, that person has almost all the power in the world. But all Hermione needed was the power of the Ministry.

“I need to owl Arthur,” she mumbled as she reached for her quill and parchment.

The note was simple and direct.

A.W.

I need as much information about the politics of the Ministry of Magic that you can remember or can get your hands on. Tell Harry, Ginny, and Ron that I am fine. As a matter of fact, I’ve never been better.

Yours
HJG

No M. It would be obsolete soon enough.