Jam at Night

Jam at Night
Part 3 of the Toast Trilogy
By Jada Rene

Pairings: Draco/Hermione, Harry/Ginny
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Draco, Hermione, Harry Potter, Ginny, too, and I ain’t got her, JK Rowling owns the whole lot, Warner Bros makes cash; I do not. No infringement is intended, so please don’t anyone be offended, I just wanted to make Harry say “Do me!” So show some mercy and please don’t sue me!

“You’ll never get away with this,” Draco spat, struggling against his magical bonds.

Lucius threw back his head and laughed openly at his son’s remark. He laughed so long and so hard that at the end of his outburst he had to wipe a tear of mirth from his eye. “Oh, Draco, you are terribly entertaining.”

Lucius chuckled again, not quite as loudly as before, and regarded his child with an amused expression. Draco’s blond hair was wild, his tie askew, and he had wrinkled every part of his outfit in his efforts to free himself of the chaise lounge in his father’s study.

Hermione’s scream floated down to them from the second floor of Malfoy Manor.

“Let me go,” Draco said, a desperate, ragged edge to his voice. “Let me go! Please! I beg of you, father, I will do anything you ask.”

Draco’s grey eyes looked pleadingly into those of his father. Lucius considered Draco for a moment before shaking his head. “No, son. Trust me, this is all for the greater good. You will see, in time, as I did, that small sacrifices now will reap rich rewards some day.”

“What are you talking about?” Draco asked. “How is keeping me separated from my wife when she needs me… how will that ever benefit anyone?”

He kicked and pulled at his chains again, but Lucius was no longer amused. “Can’t you see that all I do, all I have ever done, is to insure that your future, your life is utmost perfection? Trust me, Draco. You will be a father very soon, and then perhaps you will understand what it means to put your family’s welfare above all else.”

Draco stopped struggling and stared at his father blankly. They both looked skyward when Hermione’s shriek of pain drew their attention.

Draco opened his mouth to scream her name, but Lucius silenced him with a word and a wave of his wand.

“Stop this now, Draco,” Lucius said, narrowing his eyes to dangerous slits. “Enough of your foolishness.”

The spell hit him squarely in the chest and Draco slumped forward, and his wife’s shrieks followed him to dreamland.

+++

“Please, please,” Hermione panted. “Where is Draco?”

Narcissa stood beside the midwife, still and splendid and perfectly composed. She opened her mouth, then paused, considering her words. “I’m certain he would be here if he could.”

That, at least, was not a lie. Narcissa pursed her lips and watched her daughter-in-law sweat through another contraction. Her babies were coming hard and fast and would be born this night, the midwife had assured them.

Tears rolled down Hermione’s cheeks as she fisted the sheets and screamed until her throat was raw. “Please, please…”

She sank back against the pillows, agony making her incoherent, and unable to do much else besides beg release from her torment.

Narcissa watched, thinking only how lucky this young witch was. The head of Malfoy Manor had been present both times Narcissa had given birth, but Hermione was still the luckier, she felt.

Hermione’s mouth oh’ed into another sound of pain as she sat up again. The midwife spoke to her, trying to soothe the younger Mrs. Malfoy.

“We can’t do this alone,” the healer snapped finally, startling Narcissa. “Roll up those sleeves and help me push her legs back.”

Narcissa was momentarily horrified, but decided to spare her daughter-in-law the humiliation of sending a house elf or maid to attend her. And besides, the children that Hermione was birthing would be her own grandchildren, and she would have the first honor of looking upon their faces.

She wished bitterly that she knew which of them to get attached to.

She held Hermione’s hand and pulled the girl’s leg up with her free arm.

“Where is Draco?” Hermione asked desperately. “Where is he? His babies… his babies…”

“I know, dear,” Narcissa murmured.

“PUSH!” the healer ordered.


Two hours later it was all over. Hermione was exhausted, deep shadows and tear streaks lined her face as three infant Malfoys adorned her chest.

“They’re perfect,” Narcissa admitted with a small smile at the tiny babes. Hermione kissed each of her babies in turn and stared at them with their soft peach-fuzz hair and their wrinkly skin. She looked at her mother in law and Narcissa had to look away. “Don’t ask me again.”

She raised her eyes to Hermione’s and offered, “At least you know he loves you. That has to be enough.”

Hermione blinked back, and couldn’t think of anything to say.

+++

Draco awoke to darkness black as tar. His head throbbed, but at least he was free to move. He inhaled, smelling the sharp sting of brandy and firewhiskey. His father must have fairly doused him with liquor, the bastard. Draco struggled to stand, his legs still feeling the effects of the day’s earlier jinxes. He groped about the darkened room until he found the desk. He wrenched open each drawer in turn and spilled the contents, searching for his wand. It was fruitless. He kicked the desk in frustration.

Grappling his way to the door, he opened it, and blinked against the light. The rest of Malfoy Manor was still lit, though it was incredibly late. Draco looked back and forth, his gaze landing on the staircase.

“Hermione,” he breathed, and found the strength to race up the steps two at a time.

“Where is he?” Hermione was shouting, her voice deep with anguish. Draco hung his head and silently cursed his father, but he pushed open the door and revealed himself to his wife.

“Darling, I--”

“Where the hell have you been?” she demanded of him; he looked down at her eyes, red-rimmed and puffy from crying rivers of tears. “Where the hell have you been, Draco?”

“Downstairs. I--”

“Downstairs?!” she repeated incredulously. She got close enough to smell him and her expression changed to immediate disgust. “And you’ve been drinking! Oh, Draco…”

“I have not been drinking,” Draco said firmly.

“If you were downstairs, why did you not come up when you heard me calling for you?” she wanted to know. “Were my screams of agony not loud enough to warrant your attention?”

“Hermione, I know you’re angry, and I’m angry, too,” Draco began. “I missed the birth of my children, and I’ll always regret that.”

“Oh, ho, that’s not all you missed,” she informed him tartly as one of the babies squalled from the bed. Hermione slid onto the recently freshened sheets and cuddled her child.

“What do you mean?” Draco’s stomach rolled suddenly, and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his mother quietly turning the doorknob. “Mother.”

Narcissa froze in place. Draco crossed to her. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t bother asking her for help,” Hermione said sarcastically from her place on the bed. “She watched it all happen and didn’t lift a finger to help.”

“Help what?” Draco asked, confused and consternated. “What else did I miss?”

“Your father came,” Hermione said acidly. “He came and went again, and he took Alexander with him.”

“Alexander?” Draco repeated the name they’d chosen softly.

“Your first born,” Hermione muttered darkly. “Your father took him. He told me not to waste my breath saying goodbye, then he knocked me out with a spell.”

“What?” Draco’s eyes blazed with horror. “What are you talking about? Mother?”

He grabbed Narcissa before she could make her escape. “Mother, tell me this instant. Where did father take the baby?”

But Narcissa could only cry, slow, silent tears running in perfect lines down her smooth, pureblood cheeks. She shook her head and whispered, “I’m so sorry, my son.”

She reached up to soothe him, but Draco knocked her hand away. “Tell me where he went, damn it. What does he intend to do with Alexander?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Draco?” Hermione said. “He intends to kill our son.”

Draco turned a pale face to his mother. “Is that true? Does father intend to harm the baby?”

Narcissa’s tears coursed more quickly and her lip began to quiver unbearably.

“Answer me!” Draco shouted, shaking her. “Answer me!”

“I don’t know!” she screamed back. “I don’t know! I don’t know! I don’t know!”

She collapsed, sobbing, against his chest and cried woefully into his alcohol-soaked shirt. Draco pulled her head up. “Look at me, mother. Where did he go? Where did father take Alexander?”

She shook her head, and in between sobs, she wiped her cheeks with her palms. “I… I… don’t know. I’m sorry, Draco, I don’t know.”

Hermione turned away disgustedly. There was a long moment of silence, then thought struck her. “The contract.”

“What?” Draco asked, raking a hand through his fine blonde hair.

“The contract. The marriage contract,” Hermione said. “Remember what he said? About the bearing of an heir within a year…”

“It must be in his study.”

“Find it.”

“I… he took my wand.”

“Then take mine,” she said, jutting her chin out. She looked at him and swallowed.

Draco smiled a tiny smile for her, realizing she was entrusting him with this task; she believed in him after all, even though he’d missed the birth of the triplets.

“I’ll go look for it,” he said, nodding efficiently.

She halted him at the door. “Wait, Draco…”

Her voice faltered uncertainly. “Kiss Emma and Carey first.”

Draco nearly broke down right there, but he was determined to keep it together for Hermione’s sake. He crossed briskly and looked down for the first time on his children. He kissed their foreheads each in turn and whispered his solemn vow, “I’ll get your brother back, I promise.”

Quick footsteps brought him back down to the study. He used Hermione’s wand to light the lamps and began ransacking the room in search of the magical document. If Hermione’s hunch was correct, it was the key to finding baby Alex.

His wife appeared in the doorway. “We can’t do this alone.”

“We’re not alone,” he said from rote, “we have each other.”

Hermione shook her head. “No, that’s not what I mean.”

She crossed to the fireplace and Draco obliged her with an, “Incendio!”

She took a bit of floo.

“No,” Draco said softly. “Please, no.”

“Yes, Draco,” she said staunchly. “You know we need the help.”

“Does it have to be him?” Draco whined. “Anyone but him!”

“Don’t pout,” Hermione ordered, sticking her head in the fireplace. Draco muttered something that rhymed with “Merry Plodding Fodder,” and went back to his search.


“Hello? Gin—Oh, good lord!” Hermione said, squeezing her eyes shut against the scene in the Weasleys’ living room.

“That’s the problem with floo,” Harry panted atop Ginny, who was sprawled on the living room floor, legs spread and breasts heaving with each of Harry’s thrusts. “One minute, Hermione.”

“Oh… my… God,” Hermione said from behind her fingers.

“Oh, oh, unh, Merlin, Harry, yes, yes, yes!” Ginny shouted, sounding for all the world as though she wouldn’t have stopped what she was doing even if her parents had flown into the house on Voldemort’s back. Harry was panting and sweating, not that Hermione could see from where her fingers blocked her view, but she could hear plenty.

“Oh, yes, hell yeah, fuck yeah, Ginny, oh, GinGinGinGinFUCK!”

Heavy breathing, Ginny mewling, and Hermione with her eyes closed, head still in the fireplace. She waited a few moments until she heard movement and then said tentatively, “Um… sorry.”

“That’s all right,” Harry said, looking around for his pants.

“Are you dressed yet?”

“Nearly.”

“He’s got trousers on,” Ginny informed her friend momentarily. “You’re safe to peek.”

“Ginny!” Hermione shrieked at the sight of her friend’s naked body.

“What? What is it?” Draco asked in alarm, running to the fireplace. He stuck his head in the fire and looked in, expecting to see a scene of distress. Ginny was pulling on her skirt, and he greeted her with a smirk, “Hey, Weasley, nice rack.”

“Thanks,” Ginny responded, accepting her top from Harry.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, sticking his wand in the waist of his jeans as he turned his shirt right side out.

Draco left his wife to handle the matter and went back to the files in the cabinet.

“We need a favor,” Hermione began.

“Anything,” Harry said at once.

“Lucius has kidnapped our son, Alexander.”

“Wait!” Ginny exclaimed in surprise. “You had the babies?”

“Just tonight,” Hermione admitted with pride.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Ginny said, clasping her hands together. She smiled at Hermione and asked, “Well?”

“Two boys and a girl,” Hermione said. “Alexander, the firstborn, then Carey, and Emma.”

“Carey’s a boy?” Harry clarified.

“Yes,” Hermione said with a nod. “Named after my uncle. Well, look, anyway, as soon as I’d gotten done with the birthing, Lucius came up to the room.”

“I told you to go to a proper hospital,” Harry growled.

“There wasn’t time,” Hermione said, distraught.

Ginny stared back and forth between the silent friends for a moment.

“Anyway…” Hermione said again. “Anyway, I… he used a spell on me, and he took baby Alexander. Mrs. Malfoy… she thinks he intends to… to…”

She couldn’t bring herself to say it again, not about her infant baby, only a few hours old. Asking for outside help made it too real.

“And where was Mister Wonderful when it happened?” Harry said coldly.

“I…don’t know,” Hermione said. “But you can ask him when you get here. Please, we must find the baby before anything happens. Please.”

“Ginny, run up and get Ron, whoever else is around,” Harry said quietly. “We’ll floo, and be there in a second, Hermione.”

“Thanks, Harry.”

He nodded briskly and Hermione pulled her head out of the fireplace.

Draco looked up from his task. “Well?”

“They’ll be here in a second.”

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I don’t understand. Why would father want the baby?”

“Maybe having half-bloods for grandchildren didn’t sit well with him after all,” Hermione said, her voice sounding odd in her ears.

“Well, but why would he just take one baby? Surely he’d have taken them all if that were the case,” Draco said, biting his lip. “No, it’s got to be something else.”

He went back to searching the files. Harry Potter emerged from the fireplace followed immediately by Ron, Ginny, and George Weasley.

“Thank you for coming,” Hermione said gratefully.

“Yes,” Draco said, standing up to greet their visitors.

“Where were you when it happened?” Harry demanded immediately.

“I was down here--”

A punch to the mouth interrupted Draco’s speech. The blond fell backward into the chair and stared up at Harry in surprise.

“What the hell, mate?” Draco said with a sarcastic flourish.

“You were down here while your wife was giving birth to your children?” Harry said, his eyes a sea of anger and disgust.

“Yes, but--”

A quick blow to Draco’s nose sent blood flooding down his face.

“Harry!” Hermione admonished her friend. Harry grabbed Draco’s collar and hauled him up, preparing to deliver another fist-to-face connection.

“And while she was fighting off your degenerate father?” Harry asked, his voice rising.

“You’ve got this all wrong,” Draco said through clenched teeth and a mouthful of his own blood. “It’s not what you think.”

“Harry, please!” Hermione pleaded. “Give him a chance to explain!”

“Fine,” Harry said, throwing Draco to the chair. The seat skidded a few inches, but held him evenly. Draco shook his head angrily at Harry.

“You don’t know what you’re on about,” he said wearily. “My father held me prisoner down here. He kept me bound to that” he pointed, “damn chair and let me hear the screams of my wife in pain. I missed the birth of my children because of him! I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to be anywhere but by her side... I never want to be anywhere but there.”

He looked over at Hermione, who came to him and mopped his face gently with the sleeve of her shirt.

“You shouldn’t be up and all,” Ginny said nervously to Hermione. “You should go to the hospital and make sure you’re all right.”

“I’m fine,” Hermione said firmly, but she was ash white. Draco took her hands in his.

“I think she’s right,” he said softly. “You go to St. Mungo’s, take the babies. They can protect you there.”

“Are you mad?” Hermione asked. “They can’t do a thing! Look what happened to Broderick!”

Harry and the Weasleys hung their heads, remembering the man who’d been strangled by a potted plant while in the care of St. Mungo’s.

“I just… I want you to go somewhere and stay safe… I want Carey and Emma to be safe,” Draco said pointedly.

“Headquarters,” Harry suggested.

“You’re not suggesting my children stay at the Weasleys, are you?”

“Not good enough for you?” Ron asked icily.

“No, that’s not it, but you’d have to know they’d look for you there.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Harry interrupted loudly, “because Hermione knows that’s not where I was suggesting.”

She nodded to him. “All right. I’ll go up and pack my case.”

“I’ll help,” Ginny said.

“What about us?” Harry asked.

“Help Draco find the contract with the conditions of our marriage. We need to know why our son is so important to Lucius,” Hermione said. Harry nodded to her, and she left the room with Ginny.

Draco used Hermione’s wand to clean the blood from his clothes.

“Uh, sorry about that, by the way,” Harry said nonchalantly.

“Yeah, no problem,” Draco responded spuriously.

They all set to searching the room. For a good portion of the time, there was quiet, with only the rustling of papers and shifting of furnishings to indicate inhabitants.

After a while, George cleared his throat and said conversationally, “So, this contract…”

“Yeah?” Draco replied, sifting through another stack of legal documents.

“Magical, right?”

“I’m going to say something to you that I’ve never said before, twin.”

“My name’s George.”

“George,” Draco amended.

There was a pause.

“Well?”

“You asked if the contract is magical,” Draco said, “a contract designed by my father, hater of non-magical things.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” George grinned. “Is it?”

Draco worked up his attitude and said pointedly, “Well, duh!”

“Glowing green last you saw it?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Yours and Hermione’s names magically burned into it?”

“Don’t toy with us, George,” Harry interrupted. “Have you got it?”

George’s grin grew even wider as he held up a sheaf of papers with blue legal backing. “Ta da!”

“You are a right son of a bitch, you know that?” Draco said, crossing the room with quick, purposeful strides, Harry and Ron following. Draco took the parchment and they all crowded around reading as he skimmed the documents. “This is it. Our marriage contract….”

He flipped through another few pages. “Here it is. On the condition of children…”

Draco’s eyes flew over the page, but when he got to the part he was looking for, he nearly dropped the documents altogether.

“What?” Harry asked, taking the contract from Draco, who stumbled backward against the bookcase, wild-eyed and panic-stricken.

“Oh, gods,” he whispered, “it’s true.”

Harry and Ron read together while George watched Draco carefully.

“You look green,” George informed him.

“Hermione was right,” Harry said swiftly.

“About what?” Hermione asked, Ginny behind her holding a worn suitcase. Hermione balanced a baby on each arm and looked into the room.

“We found the contract,” Ron said soberly.

“And?”

Harry took it upon himself to deliver the bad news. “It appears Lucius intends to sacrifice your son to a secret wizard’s society that he belongs to, to insure the future wealth and power of the Malfoy family.”

“That’s what he meant,” Draco said hoarsely.

“That’s just stupid,” Hermione said. “Why on earth would they want our baby?”

“According to the contract it’s been going on for generations,” Harry said quietly. “All the Malfoys surrender their firstborn to the society.”

“But that’s not possible,” Draco said softly, shaking his head. “I’m an only child; they didn’t sacrifice me.”

“No,” a new voice said. They all looked to see Narcissa Malfoy standing behind her daughter-in-law. “No, my son, now you are an only child.”

“What do you mean now?”

“Our firstborn son, your brother, we gave to the society,” she said, her proud chin quivering as she spoke. “As soon as he was born, your father took him to the elders. It is how we have survived through everything.”

Draco shook his head. “You’re wrong. We won’t do it, we won’t live by the rules of this society any longer. I’m going to get my son! Tell us where they are.”

“It won’t do any good,” she said, tears brimming in her eyes as she relived the memory of her first experience at giving birth, remembering the tiny infant, and how Lucius’s hand had slipped from her own, and walked away cold despite her wails of sorrow and pleas for a goodbye kiss. “It won’t do any good.”

She stood on the marble floor, looking tired and weary, as she turned to Hermione. “You’re lucky; you have two others to comfort you in your loss. I had to wait years until Draco was conceived.”

Hermione gave her a horrified look. “He is still my baby! Nothing will change that I love him, and I want him back. There is no comfort in my father-in-law murdering my infant child.”

She swept out the doors followed by George and Ginny, who had arranged for a car. Narcissa’s tears fell as she turned and stepped onto the staircase, “No, I don’t suppose there is.”

She disappeared upstairs before anyone could say anything else. Harry, Draco, and Ron stood in the wrecked study and gawked at each other.

“Well,” Harry said finally, “we’ve got to figure out where this sacrifice is going to take place. Any idea how we can do that?”

“No,” Draco said woefully. “I’ve never heard of them before today.”

“Think,” Ron said forcefully. “Has he ever gone off to meetings? Talked about meeting friends or something? We’ve got to start somewhere.”

“Severus,” Harry said.

“Who?” Ron asked.

“Snape.”

Ron paled. “You’re not thinking of asking him for help, are you?”

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”

“He hates us!” Ron countered.

“Not all of us,” Harry said, pinning Draco with a look.

“Yeah,” Draco said, nodding. “Yeah, that’s a good place to start.”

But Snape wasn’t in his office or his chambers when they flooed. They finally reached Minerva McGonagall in the teachers’ lounge.

“No,” she said tight-lipped, “Professor Snape is not here. No, I do not know where he is.”

“Please, Professor,” Harry pleaded. “Has he left the school? It’s very important.”

Looking very put-out, McGonagall stood up and said, “No, I do not believe he has left the school. He is probably researching something in the library.”

“Listen, we’re on our way there now,” Harry said. “If you see him, please tell him that Draco Malfoy is looking for him on a matter of utmost importance.”

She nodded at him brusquely.

“That’s it,” Harry said, pulling his head out of the fireplace. “Got any extra brooms around here? We’ve got to make time.”

“Yeah.”

Ron and Harry followed Malfoy out onto the grounds of the manor. A designer building in the rear of the gardens held several brooms of varying age and use. Ron looked as though he might squabble with Malfoy for the racing broom, but held his tongue. They all made excellent time to Hogwarts, and the first person they spotted was McGonagall looking peevishly at them from under her hat.

“You haven’t seen Professor Snape, have you?” Harry asked.

“No, but the headmaster has informed me that he is in his chambers and does not wish to be disturbed this evening,” McGonagall said, moving through the front entrance toward the staircase. “Now if you’ll kindly excuse me.”

“Thanks, Professor,” Harry said. He turned to Draco. “Well, bugger it all, that’s exactly like Snape. Probably sitting in his room refusing to answer our floo.”

Draco shook his head. “Let’s just go down there.”

The blond led the Ron and Harry downstairs and through the maze of dungeon corridors, finally arriving at a solitary door of granite-speckled severity. Draco raised his fist and knocked. The three waited, but no one came to answer. Draco knocked again, this time more forcefully. Still no one answered. Harry stepped in front of the door and banged loudly upon it, yelling, “Open up, Professor! We know you’re in there! The headmaster told us and we’re not leaving until you--”

The door was wrenched open by a very irritated Snape in a green bathrobe. “Why are you vile brats disturbing me at this hour?”

“We need your help,” Harry said flatly, “and we’re not leaving until we get it.”

“Do not assume to bully me, Mr. Potter,” Snape hissed, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

“I wouldn’t ask for your help if I didn’t need it,” Draco put in wearily. “Please, professor.”

Snape scowled, but held the door open. The three entered Snape’s chambers just as the bedroom door opened and Remus Lupin poked his head out, “Severus, what’s going on? I thought I heard shouting.”

“Professor?” Harry said in shock, staring at the shirtless Remus Lupin standing in the doorway to Snape’s bed chamber.

Snape turned a violent shade of purple and inhaled sharply, “Does no one have any respect for my wishes? First the headmaster defies my right to solitude--”

“It’s not solitude if there’s someone else with you,” Harry pointed out. Snape gathered his control and ignored him.

“Then you can’t even obey the slightest request to stay in the bloody bedroom!” Snape said, addressing the werewolf.

“If I recall, I just got done fulfilling many of your requests, including the one where--”

“Silence!” Snape fairly shrieked while Harry and Ron fought to suppress giggles. “What are you evil little wretches doing here? Aside from ruining my evening?”

“My father’s kidnapped my son, Alexander,” Draco said without preamble. “We think he intends to sacrifice him to an order of wizards. We were hoping you would know where we could find him.”

Snape bit his lower lip, then chewed it for a moment. “I do.”

“Where?”

“Tell us, Professor.”

Snape held up a hand and said, “It is not as simple as one would think. I have no idea how we’ll gain admittance without a member of their order to assist us.”

“But… aren’t you a member?” Draco asked.

Snape laughed a bit at that remark, but shook his head soberly. “No, no longer is the Snape family involved with their private society. Why do you think I have to teach here?”

There was quiet in the room.

“Why did you leave?” Draco wanted to know.

“Given what I am, no heirs were likely to come along,” Snape said, looking at Remus through masked features. He paused, then said, “They banned the Snapes from the society when my parents died, and as there are no future generations… They would rather be rid of me than care for me when I could not—would not—provide them with an innocent.”

Draco stared blankly at the ground as did Ron; only Harry spoke.

“That’s why you switched sides,” he said softly.

And Snape, having the grace to feel shame, admitted so. “Yes.”

He bowed his head and shut his eyes against the flood of guilt that came, then regained himself and straightened up. Remus smiled kindly at him from across the room, and Snape returned the gesture.

“So it’s not the Death Eaters,” Draco said.

“No,” Snape said. “It’s the Second Elite, and a determinate of purebloods who still believe in dark magic, and still practice it.”

“Will they kill my son?”

“Kill him or possess him,” Snape said. “Either way, he will no longer be yours; he will belong to them.”

“I want my son back, Professor,” Draco said, his eyes watering from the stress. “I can’t… I can’t….”

Snape nodded. “I know, Draco. Come, Remus. Our evening is ruined anyway, we may as well help young Malfoy find his heir.”

Draco swiped at his eyes with his cuff and said gratefully, “Thank you, sir.”

The three younger men waited before the fireplace while their former professors dressed. In moments the group was hurrying out of bounds, and heading dead into Knockturn Alley.


+++


Across town, safe in the holds of Grimmauld Place, Hermione’s head drooped against the back of the armchair. The babies were sleeping peacefully in a transfigured bassinet, and Ginny was just covering Hermione with a quilt when she jerked awake.

“McGonagall!” Hermione gasped.

“Ssh,” Ginny soothed her. “It’s me, Ginny. You were dreaming.”

“No,” Hermione said, shaking her head fiercely. “You don’t understand. McGonagall!”

Ginny could only stare at her blankly, the quilt hanging limply in her hands.

+++


“I don’t see how this will ever work,” Ron muttered quietly to Harry. “I mean, sure Draco is a Malfoy and all, but he’s never been to the place. Supposing they don’t let him in?”

“We still have the backup plan,” Harry responded just as softly.

Ron snorted. “You have to be out of your mind--”

“Is there something you wish to share with us, Mr. Weasley?” Snape said in that tone of voice that typically made students’ blood run cold.

“No, sir,” Ron replied. He shook his head for good measure, and Snape sneered, then looked away.

They had reached the front of a very tall and narrow brownstone building. Something was terribly wrong with the door; it stretched upward seeming without an end. Draco raised the heavy brass knocker and let it fall.

A slide window opened. “Who seeks admittance?” a voice slithered from behind the door.

“Draco Malfoy,” Draco said in his best arrogant tone, which after years of practice, was very, very impressive.

The window snapped shut. Draco threw a glance at Snape for guidance. Then the locks began to click. Relief swept through Draco and his heart began to pound. The door opened, revealing nothing about the interior. Draco stepped forward, with Harry right on his heels.

“Who are you?” a voice demanded of Harry, who quickly smoothed his bangs over his scar.

“That’s, um… my valet.”

“He cannot enter here.”

The house itself tossed Harry from the premises and the door slammed shut, swallowing Draco whole.

Draco stood uncertainly in the darkness, alone, his fingers wound tightly around Hermione’s wand.

He turned in the direction of echoing footsteps and followed them blindly for a moment before remembering what he held in his hand. Licking chapped lips Draco murmured, “Lumos.”

Light glowed, illuminating a barren corridor and no figure to produce the sounds he heard. Draco continued to follow the disembodied noise, down the hallway, through the door, and down a long and winding flight of stairs. He emerged in a stone cavern filled with men in long, brown robes. They stood centered around a cauldron. Draco stepped closer, craning his neck to see over the shoulders of the members.

Lucius stood dangling baby Alexander by his ankles over the cauldron. He was speaking words, but suddenly the baby’s deafening cries assaulted Draco’s ears, and he could hear nothing else as he fought his way to the front. Lucius held a long, silver dagger to the baby’s throat, and slashed.

Draco leapt forward, screaming for his son. Strong hands restrained him as the baby’s blood splashed into the bubbling cauldron, boiled over, and came rushing to soak Draco’s shoes. Tears sprang into his eyes and flooded his cheeks hotly.

“Gods, no!” Draco whispered as the baby went white, made no movement, made no sound. “No… No. No! NO! NO! Father, WHY?!”

He struggled and struggled, weeping, thrashing, wishing it had been someone else, wishing it could have been himself instead of his innocent baby. They let him go as Lucius dropped the infant carcass into the bowl and stepped forward to address his son. Draco fell to the floor like a stone in water, thick sobs tearing from his body, wringing his heart with every horrid moment that he lived through his grief.

“Get up,” Lucius ordered in a stiff and disgusted tone. “Get up, you ungrateful wretch.”

He hauled Draco up by his arm and dragged him to the corner of the room. “Get ahold of yourself. We both knew this had to be done. Now stop this foolishness. It cannot be undone. Let us instead enjoy all that the Malfoys will have because of this one, small, insignificant thing.”

He turned to speak to the other members of the society, and Draco stood in the corner, shuddering, dry sobs choking his throat as he struggled to breathe. All he could think about was Hermione. How would he ever tell her that he was a failure?

Draco emerged from the building with his father twenty minutes after he’d entered it.

“Severus,” Lucius sneered. “What brings you here?”

“Young Draco asked me for directions,” Snape replied smoothly, “and I complied, of course.”

Lucius’s eyes flicked over Ron, Harry, and Remus standing oddly behind the potions master. “Well, well, well. To what do we owe the honor of the magnificent Harry Potter? It’s a little past your bedtime, isn’t it?”

“Draco, what happened?” Harry asked, ignoring the senior Malfoy.

Draco, grief-stricken, could only shake his head as tears spilled down his cheeks.

“Where’s the baby?” Remus asked quietly.

“Our transaction is complete for another generation,” Lucius said smartly, pulling on his leather gloves. “Come, Draco, let’s get home to our lovely manor. You’ll feel much better after you’ve had a brandy.”

“No!” Draco said forcefully, jerking his arm away from his father’s touch. “I’m not going anywhere with you…. Not after what you did.”

There was a blackness in his voice that Harry had never heard, not in all their years of rivalry, teasing, and ill wishes. Never had he heard that tone, the indescribable mix of hatred and disgust; he could hear how filthy Draco felt.

Harry stepped forward with his wand. “You murdered my best friend’s baby. I’ll not let you walk out of here.”

“The records have already been altered to show that one baby died in childbirth,” Lucius said with a smirk. “You have no proof.”

“Then maybe I’ll have to kill you instead,” Harry said. “Just to keep things fair.”

Lucius chuckled and said with a sigh, “The youth are so entertaining, aren’t they, Severus?”

Snape did not answer.

“Honestly!” Lucius snapped. “Does no one appreciate the things I do? It was my grandson, too, you know. It wasn’t the easiest thing for me to do.”

Draco was incredulous; he couldn’t believe his ears. “I bet killing my brother made it a lot easier.”

Lucius looked at Draco plainly. “I will not discuss this any further.”

He disapparated, leaving Draco a trembling mess.

+++

Albus Dumbledore had arrived in his nightcap and striped pajamas, still looking grave for his abnormal attire. He handed Draco a slip of paper and Draco read it. When he looked up, he saw Harry turning the doorknob of the Order of the Phoenix. The headmaster laid a heavy hand on Draco and said, “I’m sorry, my boy.”

Draco nodded, and followed the others inside. Ginny greeted them solemnly. “Hermione’s gone.”

“What?” Ron said, voicing everyone’s thoughts. “Where did she go?”

“I don’t know,” Ginny said truthfully.

“I went to see Professor McGonagall,” a voice said from the doorway. “We have to go back to Malfoy Manor, Draco. Now.”

“Now?” Draco protested. “No, Hermione, listen, I have some bad news.”

“I know,” Hermione said grimly. “I figured you’d be too late.”

Draco’s eyes welled anew. “I’m so sorry.”

“There isn’t time to be sorry,” Hermione said jutting out her chin. “There’s still a chance, but we have to hurry.”

“Hermione,” Draco protested, thinking that grief had driven his wife crazy. “I saw him kill the baby myself. It’s too late.”

“It’s never too late,” Hermione said, and held up a gold chain.


+++

Malfoy Manor was dark when they arrived. Narcissa had long since taken her sleeping potion and was buried in blissful dreamless sleep.

“Now, you know the rules,” Hermione said, finishing her explanation as they entered the house. “I can’t go in with you; bad things happen when people see themselves. But you can go in because Lucius had you downstairs in his study the entire time I was in labor. He didn’t come up until he heard the babies’ cries. All you have to do is prevent him from taking the baby.”

Draco nodded, his jaw tight.

“Just think of what he did to Alexander,” Hermione whispered, squeezing his hand, “and don’t let him do it again.”

They paused outside the door to the bedroom where earlier Hermione had birthed the triplets. Hermione put the chain over Draco’s neck and smiled at him. “I’m glad you’ll be with me this time through.”

She kissed his cheek and Draco held up the time turner, and flipped the dial.


The hallway seemed to spin with activity, people coming and going, and then suddenly the world slowed to a halt and Draco heard Hermione scream from within the bedroom. He turned the knob and entered the room, carefully tucking the time turner into his shirt.

“Draco!” Hermione sobbed. “Thank goodness you’re here!”

He ran to her and embraced her, covering her sweaty face with kisses. “Draco, it hurts so much.”

He squeezed her hand. “I know, but you can do it.”

The midwife raised the sheet and ordered loudly, “PUSH!”

Events seemed to happen in fast forward after that; the triplets were born, and Draco finally got to hold baby Alexander, to see his firstborn son alive. He wept with joy as he kissed the baby, then Hermione, and whispered fervently, “Thank you. Thank you for this gift.”

He handed Alexander to Hermione and asked, “Where’s your wand?”

Hermione gestured toward the nightstand, and Draco was just sweeping the wood between his fingers when Lucius Malfoy sauntered into the room.

The look of shock on his face was priceless. He recovered quickly and said, “Well, well, my son. It seems I’ve underestimated you.”

“No, actually, you underestimated us,” Draco said darkly, and raised the wand. “Petrificus totalus.”

“Draco!” Hermione and Narcissa admonished at the same time. There was hysterical yelling and accusations, but Draco couldn’t think of anything else to do at the moment.

“What on earth are you doing?” Hermione shrieked.

Draco tossed some money to the midwife. “Get out.”

She did as he bade, disappearing from the house. Draco turned to his wife. “The marriage contract bound us to a secret society, the Second Elite. We’re legally required to sacrifice our firstborn to them. My father came to fulfill the contract.”

There was stillness in the room for a moment, only the sounds of the infants breaking the quiet.

“How do we break it?”

“I don’t know,” Draco said, “but I’m going to find out. Mother?”

Narcissa tore her gaze from Lucius’s petrified body. Draco evaluated her with a look. “I hate to do this, but I hope you understand that in doing nothing to prevent the death of my son or my brother, I cannot trust you.”

He petrified her, too.

“Draco, what’s going on?” Hermione asked.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” he said, “I know you’re tired, but I need your help. I’m going downstairs to get that contract, and when I come back up, we are going to figure out how to free ourselves of this horrible society.”

With a hastily pressed kiss, Draco ran downstairs. He opened the door to the study and saw himself unconscious on the chaise lounge. Soundlessly he crossed to where he now knew the contract was hidden. It only took a little shifting of papers to find the documents he needed. He crept out again, closing the study door after himself. Taking the stairs two at a time, Draco raced back up to his wife and children.

“Here it is.”

They spent hours poring over the text until the words began to swim. Draco watched the time tick closer and closer to when his time would be up, and the other Hermione would be waiting outside the door. They read it over and over, quoting passages to each other, but never finding anything of use.

“… party of the first part known as the Malfoys, fulfilling the bargain… et cetera, et cetera, party of the second part known as the Second Elite. Second Elite reserves the right to refuse service to anyone not meeting the legal requirements. Only the family members bearing the family name listed on the magical contract may utilize the guest property, services, and entitlements of the second elite. Likewise may the entitlements of full membership be conferred upon contract requirements being executed…. That’s got to be it,” Draco said. “We can get out of the contract by not giving them our son. The Malfoys will cease to have whatever privileges the society has been providing us, but we’ll get to keep Alexander.”

Hermione yawned, her face shadowed by sadness and fatigue. “Lucius won’t allow it. As soon as the jinx wears off, he’ll come after Alexander again. You know he will.”

“I probably ought to kill him,” Draco said vengefully.

“Could you?”

Draco closed his eyes. “No more than I could kill my son.”

Hermione smiled. “I actually find that endearing.”

“Well, he may be the world’s most perfect bastard, but he’s still my father.”

Hermione’s eyes drifted shut. Draco cast the petrification jinx again on his parents and told Hermione, “You rest. I’ll take these two out into the hallway.”

Hermione was already asleep, the day’s events having worn her out. In the bassinets the triplet Malfoys rested peacefully.

Draco opened the door and dragged Lucius and Narcissa into the hallway as the time wore off.

“Well?” the wide-awake and anxious Hermione asked him, peering into the room at her sleeping self.

“Nothing,” Draco sighed. He handed her the magical contract and Hermione read it over as Draco propped his parents against the wall. “The babies are still here, but my father’ll just keep coming after Alexander.”

“Wait a minute,” Hermione said, that glint of know-it-allism glittering in her eyes. “I think I know a way out of this.”

“Tell me,” Draco said quickly.

Hermione quoted the contract, reading aloud, “Only the family members bearing the family name listed on the magical contract may utilize the guest property, services, and entitlements of the second elite.”

Draco stared at her, bewildered. “You want to go to the ski resort?”

“No, damn it!” she said impatiently. “Only the family members bearing the family name listed on the contract. Don’t you see? If you weren’t a Malfoy anymore… Malfoy is the name listed on the contract. It won’t have power over us if we change our name.”

“To what?” Draco thought she was mad, but he’d try anything to save his son.

It was Hermione’s turn to smirk. “How do you feel about the name Granger?”

Draco looked momentarily horrified. “Is there no other way?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

“Perhaps a compromise?” Draco suggested, licking his lips. “Gralfoy… or Manger…”

“Manger!” Hermione said disgustedly. “I’m not going to go through the rest of my life as Hermione Manger!”

Draco muttered to himself for a few minutes, then finally said crossly, “All right. Fine! That’s just… Oh, this is dreadful.”

“The whole situation is dreadful, Draco,” Hermione pointed out. “I want us out of this contract as soon as possible. I don’t want your father controlling our lives anymore. Besides, it’s not the name that makes the man.”

Draco looked at her silently. Finally he agreed, “Very well. What must be done for the sake of our children.”

Hermione nodded at him encouragingly.

+++

“Of course,” Dumbledore said, still dressed in his striped pajamas and now sipping tea comfortably in front of the fireplace at Grimmauld Place. “It’s one of the privileges of being Chief Supreme Mugwump.”

He took another sip, draining the cup before setting it aside. The headmaster stood up and took out his wand and a sheaf of parchment. “This is wizard scroll from the Ministry of Magic,” he confided. “I swiped it off Cornelius’s desk in case I ever needed it.”

“For what?” Harry asked with a grin.

“For pardoning students who steal hippogryffs,” Dumbledore said sharply, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

Harry kept quiet as Dumbledore filled out the parchment and began the spell to magically rename Draco, Hermione, Alexander, Carey, and Emma. He rolled it up again and gave it to Hedwig to deliver to the Ministry.

“How will we know if it worked?” Draco asked.

Hermione held up their marriage contract. The word “null” magically appeared on the documents over and over and over.

The whole of London heard Lucius Malfoy’s screams as the Second Elite came to calling to collect.

That is everyone except those at Grimmauld Place; they were too busy hugging and cheering to speculate on what the Elite was doing to Lucius from the moment the contract was voided. Draco hugged his wife tightly.

“Oh, wait,” Hermione said fearfully, pulling back. “Now that our contract is void, do we have to get married again?”

Everyone just laughed.

Ginny offered butterbeers all around, and the group celebrated for some time, until Dumbledore announced his intent to depart.

“What shall I do now that I’m a Granger?” Draco asked of his wife as they waved goodbye to the headmaster.

Hermione cocked her head thoughtfully. “Well,” she said teasingly, “you could always become a dentist.”

“We’ve got an opening in the Order,” Harry said quietly. Draco looked at him in surprise, then slowly nodded.

“Now if you all don’t mind,” Snape growled, “I’d like to get to bed.”

“I’ll just bet,” Harry chortled.

“I can still take house points from Gryffindor,” Snape threatened.

“I’ll be good,” Harry surrendered, holding up his hands.

Everyone trudged upstairs to the bedrooms, leaving Draco and Hermione alone with their babies in the transfigured bassinets by the fire. The Grangers snuggled down under the quilt and rested their heads on one another.

“So…what’s it like, being a Granger?” he asked softly.

“Wonderful,” she said. “Sugarless, but wonderful.”

Draco smiled and stroked her hair, watching the flames dance lightly on the hearth.

“Sugarless, but wonderful,” he breathed, and fell asleep as Draco Granger for the first time in his life.

It was a blissful slumber.



End.