Mrs.Malfoy

Author note: I wanted to tell you guys that it’s after I read your reviews that plot bunnies get anxious. It seems they feed on them, so thank you very much for your support! As for the last chapter, and the soap opera scene remark I made, I do believe I will give you a taste of that….EVIL PLOT BUNNY WAY! MMUAAHH!!

DISCLAIMER: The author of this story does not take any recognition for writing this chapter. She has been sequestered to a rather large bunny cage I, the EVIL PLOT BUNNY, has constructed. I will give you the chapter you want and crave. However, you will find me to be truly…wicked…by the time it’s over. Enjoy my whims!

Hermione ran as fast as she could, stopping every so often to catch her breath and rub the stitch in her side. Before long, it was in view. She knew he must be there. With a new found determination to get this over with, she briskly approached the gates to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.

“He has to be here,” she thought as she pushed open the large gates and began her trek to the doors. It took about five minutes at her fast pace. The door in front of her seemed to tower over her. Then she heard a creak. The door was opening.

“Miss Grang…er, Mrs. Malfoy, what a pleasant surprise,” Minerva McGonagall said pulling the flushed woman into a hug. “What have you been doing? You absolutely peaked. Come to my office.”

“No, Professor. I have to talk with Professor Snape,” Hermione said, remembering her place to use titles. “It’s rather urgent and I need to discuss it in private. Is he in?”

McGonagall studied the girl closely. “Yes, he is. However, now is not a good time. He seemed rather brusque when he arrived. Surely you could enjoy a bit of tea with me?”

Hermione looked at the woman incredulously. What is it about her damn tea? “Thank you, Professor, but I do need to see him. As for his tone, I am well aware what kind of attitude he has. Forgive me, but I must decline.”

She strode purposefully toward the dungeons, leaving Minerva to smile knowingly as she returned to her office.

“Severus?” Hermione called as she entered the potions classroom. “Severus, we need to talk. Right now!”

The door behind her slammed. “I do so hope your interruption has good enough merit for me to leave my experiment unattended,” his voice replied.

She turned rather abruptly, her robes swinging around her legs. She looked around and found the nearest seat. She was so tired from her run. Hermione sat down in the first seat she could find. “I do have a good reason to talk with you. I just saw the healer and Madam Malkin. They both said I will be showing in a couple months. A couple months, Severus! That means I have to be at least two months along already.”

“And?” he said with a bored mannerism.

She stood up then and marched to stand flush against him. Her chin tilted up to look straight into his eyes. “Lucius wasn’t home eight weeks ago,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“I knew it!” Severus replied, but his voice was no longer silky or deep. It was furious and gritted. “You fucked that traitor!”

Hermione took several steps back, completely scared out of her mind. She was about to die. The man standing in front of her had the body of Severus Snape, but the voice of Lucius Malfoy. Then, as if triggered by her thoughts, the body began to change. Black hair became its opposite, white. Dark eyes became steely grey.

“No, no…it can’t be you,” she whimpered, knowing that now her secret was out.

“And who did you expect? Oh, yes, that’s right. Your precious Severus. Well, I suppose you should see him then,” Lucius sneered and flicked his wand. Suddenly appearing on the desk in the front of the classroom was Severus’’ tortured, broken body; his blood seeped off the edges of the table.

“NO!” she screamed as she shot up out of the bed. She looked around to assess her whereabouts. “That’s right. I came back to the manor…cried myself to sleep.”

After getting up and freshening herself, Hermione went to the nursery. Ginny must have come while she was asleep. The entire room was bright and elegant. Soft hues of greens and blues adorned every wall, seat, and drawer.

“Something amiss?”

Hermione jumped and held her heart so it would not spring from her chest. “Lucius, I…”

“Didn’t expect to see me home so soon? Why is that?”

She had to think fast. “I just…” she stammered. She looked nervously about. “I just wanted the nursery to be a surprise for you, is all. And I’ve ruined it. I shouldn’t have been so loud coming in here.”

Lucius studied her intently for several seconds. “You should not have screamed in your sleep. That is what garnered my attention. Were you having a nightmare?”

“The Dark Lord…I dreamed the Dark Lord was back and he was taking the baby from you. To raise as his own. I couldn’t help but be upset. I’m sorry if I disturbed you,” she said as she began to leave. He grabbed hold of her arm before she could make it past him.

“And if he did, what is it to you?” he asked.

She looked down at the floor and sighed. “Absolutely nothing, I suppose.”

He smirked at her and replied, “No supposing to it. Neither you nor I would have said a word to the Dark Lord. If he wanted my son to raise the way he is supposed to be raised, then far be it for me to intercede. As a matter of fact, I would have welcomed the gesture. At least then I would know that your pathetic influence would not come into play in his upbringing.”

Hermione nodded in agreement, as she should in her position, while inside she was about to boil over. No way in hell was her son to be raised by a monster, any monster. It didn’t matter if he was bald or had long platinum hair. It wasn’t going to happen. She would see to that. She was about to leave again, but his voice stopped her once more.

“As for the nursery, I regrettably must say…” He cleared his throat. “…well done. I didn‘t think you had it in you. I suppose it was only a matter of time before you realized that I am in control.” And then he left.

“That’s what you think,” she thought as she ran back to her room. She pulled open her rather small wardrobe and fetched a box down from the top shelf. Opening it up, she peered at the contents inside. Her mother’s locket that she gave Hermione the day before she was married was inside. As well as a few other trinkets that Hermione felt so attached to. She reached for the small vial in the lower right corner, pocketing it, and leaving soon thereafter. Her headache was getting worse.

*****

The Burrow was busy. Plates washed themselves, dunking under the ever-flowing water of the faucet, while the silverware marched the long wooden path to their drawer. The conversations overlapped and the Exploding Snap had just…well…exploded and snapped. The first two knocks at the door were not heard. The third, however, was much louder and more persistent.

“Hello, may I help you?” George asked the young woman on the other side of the door.

“Yes, I would like to speak with Ginevra Weasley, if I may,” the lady asked using the corner of her eye to see the contents inside the quaint little kitchen.

“Um, sure. Who may I say is calling?”

“That’s right, we haven’t met. Forgive me. My name is Emilia Klewcon,” she said as she extended a gloved hand to the boy…no, man. “Is she in?”

George shook her hand delicately, noticing her style of robes and gloves as being that of pureblood. Not just any pureblood, but old and rich. “Yes, she is. Please do come in. May I offer you tea?”

Emilia was quite entranced by the Weasley twin’s charming behaviour. “No, thank you, Mr. Weasley.”

“Oh no, don’t call me that. My dad is Mr. Weasley. I’m Fred.”

Another tall red head popped his head out of a book across the table at the far end of the room. “Are not!”

“Oh, that’s right. I’m George,” he said with a gentle smile as he gestured for Emilia to take a seat. “I’ll get the little darling. One moment.”

He had all but turned around before his voice seemed to jump ahead of his body. “GINNY! VISITOR!”

Emilia jumped slightly but then giggled a little when she caught his smile again. She couldn’t understand why he was so intent at staring at her, but he was. Ginny soon appeared to break the uncomfortable attention that was beginning to get to her.

“Ms. Klewcon! I didn’t expect you. Couldn’t I have met you at the office?”

Emilia smiled warmly. “Of course, but you mentioned that your family might want to meet with me and discuss what my intentions are. That is, with you working for me, I know they would like their one and only daughter in the position to keep her loyalties true. I’m sure they have a plethora of questions for me. All of which I will be only too happy to entertain.”

At that time, Arthur walked into the room, his hand outstretched before he even rounded the table. “Arthur Weasley. You must be Emilia Klewcon. My daughter has told me so much about you. My wife, Molly,” he gestured when the plump Weasley matriarch entered the room.

“My, my…aren’t you absolutely lovely! Here, my dear, take a seat. No need in wasting perfectly good manners on us. Would you care for some tea?”

“No, thank you. George was gregarious enough to already offer, although I just had tea before I came. Still, thank you for the offer. I understand that you would like to know me a bit better; know who your daughter has been affiliating herself with. I completely understand and would love to answer any and all questions you might have.”

All three of them sat at the table for what seemed like hours. Every concern was addressed straight down to Emilia’s thoughts on Voldemort and Death Eaters.

“It’s a travesty to the wizarding world that the Ministry didn’t try harder to corner and restrain that mad man, Mrs. Weasley. I assure you that I have no qualms whatsoever to keep that kind of monster from being able to roam free, let alone gain that kind of power, if it’s in my ability to do so.”

Both Molly and Arthur nodded their encouragement in Emilia’s steadfast determination to clean up the Ministry. Emilia, after deciding that it was indeed time to take tea again, sipped gingerly at her cuppa. She was about to partake in the delicious looking biscuits Molly set out, when the door banged open.

“Ron! Harry! That is no way to enter this house!” Mrs. Weasley bellowed.

“Sorry, mum.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Weasley.”

Harry noticed Emilia and gave her a good look. He wasn’t sure if this was the same woman Ginny had told him about, but she looked similar to the girl’s description. He turned to Emilia.

“Ms. Klewcon, I assume,” he said in most genteel fashion as he held his hand out to her. She took it softly.

“Mr. Potter, it is my esteemed honour to meet you, at last. Ginny has told me so much about you. Of course, what little I didn’t already know.”

He smiled, however, not uncomfortably. He noticed that she didn’t even look once at his scar. This was someone that knew who he was but didn’t seem to care. In Harry’s book, that made her alright already.

“She has, has she?” he asked with a small chuckle. With that, he went to Ginny’s side and placed a small but affectionate kiss on her cheek.

“Yes, all good though to be sure,” Emilia answered. She took in the way Harry placed his arm around his fiancée. So much love and devotion. She almost wished she had something like that. Her thoughts were momentarily rerouted to the ball at Malfoy Manor. There was something in the way Severus Snape looked at her. It was something that needed further research. “I understand congratulations are in order on your upcoming marriage.”

Ginny and Harry both blushed slightly and nodded.

“Well then, allow me to bestow a gift onto the happy couple,” Emilia said as she removed her wand. She swished and flicked, making an envelope appear in her hand. “I believe this will do,” she said as she handed it to Ginny.

The red haired girl opened it and peered inside. Her eyes bulged as she read the bit of parchment that was tucked inside. She suddenly looked up to Emilia. “No, we couldn’t.”

“Nonsense. You have been my best employee and I just simply insist on the matter. I understand that neither yourself nor Mr. Potter are destitute by any means, however, I do understand that need to lavish oneself with a grand wedding. Use to help with anything you might need,” Emilia said with a genuine smile and warmth in her eyes.

Harry looked down to the piece of paper in Ginny’s hand. He thought that he read it wrong, but no. There were definitely five zeroes; twenty thousand galleons.

“This is too much,” he interjected.

Emilia raised her hand to interrupt. “Like I said, I insist. With all this bloody marriage law nonsense, I simply cannot suffer a friend to well…suffer. Not many will understand that the two of you actually loved each other longer than the damn law has been in effect, so it might be hard for a bit to get settled into a life together. That is, until I rescind the damned thing, of course.”

“Thank you,” Ginny said softly as she closed the envelope and placed it into her pocket.

“Yes, thank you. I have a feeling you will make one hell of a Minister. And from what Ginny tells me, I would be proud to stand behind you and give you my support.”

Emilia looked shocked. “Mr. Potter, I…I have absolutely no idea what to say. Thank you so very much. I really appreciate the gesture. However, I do not want to win this election by merely having the Chosen One on my team. If there is anything you might be able to do for me, though, I will be sure to ask.”

Harry nodded.

“Well,” Emilia began. “I must really be going. Ginny, I’ll see you at ten in the morning, as usual. Mr. Potter. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.”

She went to the door, but George beat her to it. Opening it for her, he reached for her hand. She obliged him a small kiss on the back of it.

“I really must take you to dinner one evening, Ms. Klewcon,” he mentioned in a low voice so that his family would not overhear.

She blushed furiously. “Thank you, George. However, I am spoken for.” She smiled softly and apparated once past the fence that lined the Burrow grounds.

AN: I swear! That damn Plot Bunny snuck up behind me and bopped me over the head. I finally regained consciousness enough to take over the story mid way. I do apologize. I will try to do better at containing the evil rodent in the future.