You Raise Me Up

Methinks you'll find this chapter very interesting. There is a small shift off of Herms and Dray, but it goes back to them. DOn't worry...we can't stray from them long...
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The next few weeks were…interesting. The first day she had taught all of her ‘students’ together, Severus and Bellatrix had almost gotten into a duel. She had therefore decided that she would confiscate their wands for class, as they wouldn’t need magic for their lessons.

Introducing Severus to a ball-point pen was an amusing adventure. He had promptly asked where the ink bottle was, and then had been forced to take the pen apart to show him it held its own ink well when he didn’t believe her. He was a broody little thing, and Hermione often had to deal with his little mood swings. She wasn’t complaining, though.

Despite being unceremoniously dumped in the serpent’s den, Hermione thanked various deities that at least they weren’t stupid. She really had no tolerance for stupidity, and was pleased that her pupils were very adept and quick learners. Trouble in paradise seemed to be brewing, though.

For the past week, Bellatrix had arrived to class late complaining of an ill stomach. She was snippy with her answers, and Hermione frequently had to wake her up near the end of lectures. Hermione approached the dark witch one particularly bad morning.

“Do you think you might need to see a healer?” she asked gingerly.

“No, mother, I’m fine…” she snapped.

“Perhaps it’s a stomach flu that won’t leave? What if you get sick enough to miss classes? That wouldn’t bode well…” Hermione said, trying to appeal to the rational side of the witch. Bellatrix growled.

“Very well…I’ll go to a clinic tomorrow…” she said.

“Today….” Hermione said, her voice firm.

“Bleeding hippogriffs! Fine!” she cried. “But you’re coming with me…’Cissy fawns too much, and I’m not going to a healer with one of the boys.” She said. Hermione nodded. It was a fair trade.

They sat in the office of a healer a few hours later. Other patients steered clear of the pair, as Bellatrix was practically fuming that she had to be dragged to see a healer.

“B-Black, Be-Bellatrix.” A young nurse called. Bellatrix had gone back to using her maiden name, as her husband was presently a soulless hull. Bellatrix stood, and walked stiffly across the room. An older witch stared at her, and then jumped when Bellatrix hissed at her. Hermione clicked her tongue.

“Stop being immature…” she scolded.

“Soooo sorry, Mother Granger…” Bellatrix murmured.

Bellatrix sat on the cold table as the Healer ran several tests on her.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Miss Black.” She said, writing something down on her clipboard.

“There has to be some reason I’m spilling my guts on the floor every morning, and passing out in the afternoon.” She snapped.

“Hmm. Sickness in the morning, fatigue, mood-swings…” the Healer said, tapping her quill against her chin. “Have you entertained the notion you could be pregnant?” the Healer asked. Bellatrix laughed mirthlessly.

“Ha! To be pregnant one would have to-” but she stopped, and her smile faded immediately. “Those bloody bastards. They did…no…bloody cowards! They must have taken me after they beat me unconscious! I’ll kill them! I’LL KILL THOSE BLOODY BASTARDS!!” the last part of her rant came out an enraged shriek. She sat on the table, breathing hard for a moment, before she buried her face in her hands and began to cry. The Healer’s eyes widened and she looked at Hermione.

“Miss Bellatrix…are you going to be okay?” she asked. Bellatrix shook her head ‘no.’ “Let’s go home…you need to rest…” she said softly.

“Let me cast the spell to see how far along she is, and then I can prescribe the proper prenatal potions.” The young woman said. She waved her wand at Bellatrix’s stomach. “According to this, she’s only a few weeks along. Here we go, here’s a list of proper foods and the potions she’ll need. I want a twice-monthly appointment for the first seven months, and then once a week from then on.” She said, writing several things down. “There is a nice apothecary right next door that fills almost all of our requested potions. You can get them there.” She said. She held the papers out to Bellatrix. But that was futile, as it seemed the woman had gone into a sort of depressed trance. So the Healer handed the papers to Hermione.

“Thank you so much. I’m sure she thanks you too, don’t you, Miss Bellatrix?” Hermione said. Bellatrix nodded mutely, and then slowly slid off the table. Hermione led the quiet witch out of the room, and out the front door, receiving awkward stares from everyone they passed. She walked into the apothecary next door, and within a matter of minutes they walked out again with all of the potions Bellatrix was supposed to begin taking.

~~

“And then she just went quiet. I’ve never seen anyone look so…sad.” Hermione said, reliving the tale to Draco as they lounged on her bed. He frowned.

“That is strange. She must be taking this really hard. She never wanted kids with uncle Rodolphus. She hated him. She only married him because it was arranged.” He said.

“That must have been terribly hard…” Hermione said. “If I ever get married, I want it to be with someone I love, and who loves me.” She said, a smile gracing her bow-shaped lips.

“If?” he asked.

“I doubt I ever will…who wants to marry a bookworm? Most men are just interested in a pretty little arm-trophy who’ll speak when spoken to and let him nestle between her thighs whenever he wants a good doinking.” She said. He laughed.

“Doinking? Good gods, Hermione, sometimes your vocabulary is so base…” he said. She gave a soft sigh. “What is it, fluffums?” he asked. She rolled her eyes. He had come up with that term of endearment to poke fun at her hair.

“You called me Hermione.” She said softly.

“I’ve called you that before…” he said.

“Only after you thought about it. You called me by my name without thinking. That made it mean so much…” she purred, gently tracing a finger over his chest. He chuckled deeply.

“We’ll be late for dinner…”

“So? Kiss me, Draco Malfoy.” He obliged.

Their lips met in feverish desperation. They both laced their fingers through each other’s hair, and tried to pull closer for more contact. Draco groaned as he felt an erection begin to press against the inside of his pants. He pressed his hips against hers.

“Stop poking me.” She said, her voice muffled by his lips. He chuckled.

“Stop making me unbearably hard…” he said, his words interrupted by his kisses.

“Stop being so damned cute.”

“Stop being…stop…fuck it!” he cried, and rolled on top of her, capturing her lips with more force. He pinned her wrists above her head, and began to suckle and nip at her throat. She gave a throaty groan, and wrapped her legs around him, dry-humping his stomach.

Both were so caught up in the moment that neither heard the door crack. But both heard Narcissa’s startled cry.
Draco broke his contact from Hermione quickly and practically jumped off of the bed.

“Mum!” he cried, trying to smooth his hair. Hermione pushed down the hem of her skirt, looking very much ashamed.

“Mrs. Malfoy!” she cried, and then stood up. To their utter disbelief, the door swung open, and just behind Narcissa stood a shocked Lucius. His shock turned into a scowl.

“Draco Cepheus Malfoy! If you don’t get out of this room immediately I will thrash you good!” Lucius hissed. Draco quickly crossed the room, and went through the door. He was rewarded with a smart cuff to the back of his head by Lucius. Lucius’ fiery glacial eyes turned to Hemrione.

“I will deal with you momentarily, Miss Granger. First, I will deal with my son”
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DUN DUN DUN!!! Holy Merlin's dangling love sac! THings don't lok good for our heroes! How will they get themselves out of this pickle? FInd out next time on: You Raise Me Up, favorite soap opera of the Harry Potter Universe!!

Okay...maybe not...but this is still pretty cool. This has been brewing in my imagination for a while...and I finally got enough nerve to start tapping it out on the keyboard.