Fic: She Didn't Stay for Breakfast (1/2) *NC17* D/Hr/B
Title: She Didn’t Stay for Breakfast
Author: Lillith Janvier (lillith_janvier@yahoo.com)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A one-night stand has lasting consequences.
Author’s Notes:
1. Many thanks to all my lovely betas: Crow, Shadowfey, Juliane, and Shags the Dustmop. I very much appreciate your comments and corrections.
2. The Relavatio Identi charm that Blaise performs is made up. In fact, it is the author abusing Latin for her own whim. I use a list of Medieval Latin words and phrases that I acquired when studying 12th century French love poetry.
3. Your humble author has never been pregnant. Hermione’s behavior and pregnancy were derived using a composite of the pregnancies of three of the author’s friends. One of Lillith’s friends did indeed have morning sickness well into the sixth month. Drugs had no effect. The friend now has a beautiful baby girl. Your mileage may vary.
For the third time that week, Hermione vomited her breakfast of dry toast and tea into the toilet. Leaning back against the brick wall, she counted the blue tiles in the floor pattern, reaching the number 137 before her stomach stopped heaving and settled into a general nausea. She pulled herself up by the toilet paper holder, stood for an expectant moment, opened the stall door, and shakily made her way to the basins on the opposite wall. The cool water felt wonderful as it splashed on her face, and the slightly sweet taste banished the sour residue of the second-hand tea. She was bent over still splashing her face when she heard Ginny’s voice.
“Hey there, Hermione. Are you okay?”
Hermione looked up at the sound.
“Oy! You look terrible!”
“Yes, I know,” replied Hermione. “I’ve caught some bug. I can’t keep food down, and I’m really tired.”
“Are you sure you’re not pregnant?” joked Ginny.
Hermione’s face paled to ash and her stomach fell to her feet. Turning, she ran back into the stall. Ginny followed and pulled back Hermione’s unruly hair, and a cup of water appeared in her line of sight. After rinsing her mouth, Hermione sighed and leaned back against the wall again. She closed her eyes as Ginny plopped down on the floor next to her, carefully warding the Ladies’ Room first.
“So, do you have something to tell me?” asked Ginny. “Your reaction to my joke was rather extreme.”
“Yes,” Hermione whispered.
Ginny stared at her friend. “How? You’ve never mentioned anyone.”
“And it’s not a long story either.”
“Well, let’s go down and get you something to eat. You can tell me all about it,” Ginny suggested.
Hermione stood shakily and allowed her friend to lead her out of the toilet.
+++++
“Both of them?!” Ginny exclaimed.
Hermione shrugged and swallowed a mouthful of egg. “It was a stressful week. They were there.”
“They were where exactly?” asked the red head.
“Mysterious Magic, it’s a…”
“I know what Mysterious Magic is,” Ginny interrupted. “What I don’t understand is what you were doing there? Nightclubs aren’t your thing.”
“I told you it was a stressful week,” groused Hermione. “My team had blown up the lab twice, and we were still no closer to solving that potions problem. I needed to blow off some steam. Padma invited me out, and I went.”
“Obviously,” replied Ginny. “So what are you going to do?”
“What do you mean?” asked Hermione around a mouth of bacon.
“Are you going to tell him? Them? Marry them? Adopt it out?”
“Why would you assume I’d keep it?” Hermione stared steadily at her friend. Ginny grimaced.
“You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I could never…”
Hermione nodded. “It’s okay, Gin. Everyone’s different.”
“True,” she affirmed. “After all, marry Malfoy? How hideous.”
“Don’t forget Zabini,” Hermione reminded her. “It could be his.”
“It could be both of them.”
“Huh? I don’t think that’s possible,” Hermione mumbled around a mouthful of toast and egg.
“Well, there are old stories about trios, but it hasn’t happened for a long time. A lot of us thought you, Ron, and Harry…”
“Ginny, ew!” Hermione grimaced. “They are nice, but in no way attractive like that. I’d be like…just ew.”
Ginny shook her head. “Yeah, I know, but you can’t blame people for thinking.”
“No,” Hermione affirmed. “Just no.” She took another bite. “Now, Draco and Blaise, that’s another story.”
Ginny laughed. “So you’ve said. I still can’t believe you had both of them.” Ginny grinned at her friend. “Were they good?”
Hermione blushed. “Oh yes,” she purred and returned the grin, but it quickly faded. “You can’t tell Harry or Ron,” she said. “You know how they get.”
“Don’t I ever. They’ve never liked Draco or Blaise,” agreed Ginny. “Let me know when you make your appointment at St. Mungo’s. I’ll go with you. I’ve heard you won’t be feeling so good after the potion.”
“Thanks, Ginny.” Hermione smiled. “That means a lot to me.”
“No problem,” said Ginny. “That’s what friends are for, but you gotta tell me something.”
“What?”
“Well,” started Ginny with a sly look, “there were these rumors at school…”
Hermione looked questioningly at her friend.
“About Malfoy and his tongue?” finished Ginny.
Hermione blushed furiously.
“They’re true?!”
Hermione nodded.
“You lucky bint!”
+++++
The clinic’s treatment room was painted in soothing shades of blue. Nondescript pictures of flowers and fruit adorned the walls. A woman with a midwife’s pin on the lapel of her robes stepped through the door. She peered at the scroll in her hand and at Hermione sitting on the bed.
“Miss Granger?” the medi-witch verified.
“Yes,” confirmed Hermione.
“I am Madame Ellsworth. I trust my nurse explained the effects of the potion?”
Hermione nodded.
“You’ve signed the consent forms?”
“Yes,” Hermione said.
“And you have someone to see you home afterward?”
“Yes, my friend’s out in the waiting room.”
“And you’re six weeks along?”
Hermione swallowed. “Yes.”
“Good.” The medi-witch sat down at a lab-type table and waved her wand. Potions ingredients appeared and she started mixing them into the abortifacient. She gave Hermione a stoneware mug with a yellow potion in it. “You’ll want to drink it all in one go. It’s not very palatable, I’m afraid.”
Hermione took the mug. She brought to her lips, once, twice, and a third time. Looking at the mug, several thoughts ran through her head at once.
Drink the potion, rational self said.
I can’t.
What?! Rational self screeched like Ginny’s mum.
I just can’t. A child can’t be that hard, can it? Women have children every day. I mean, I’m 30. I have enough money.
And the father or fathers? Rational was tapping her foot now.
It was only one night.
Yeah, one night you forgot your contraceptive charm.
Maybe it was fate.
Now you’ve really gone round the bend… Rational shook her head and stalked off.
“Is there a problem?” Madame Ellsworth’s question interrupted Hermione’s mental back and forth.
“I...I...I,” Hermione stuttered. She shoved the mug towards the medi-witch, wrapped her arms around her middle, and collapsed onto the bed.
“Oh, my dear!” Madame Ellsworth exclaimed. She sat down on the bed next to Hermione. “You don’t have to do this today.” She patted Hermione’s shoulder. “You have six more weeks.”
Hermione buried her shaking head in the bed’s pillow. “I don’t think six more weeks will make a difference,” she said with a shaky voice. “I think I’m stuck.”
“Let me get your friend,” said Madame Ellsworth. “Perhaps she can help.” She patted Hermione’s hand and left the room to get Ginny Weasley.
Hermione rolled over and covered her eyes with her arm. She had no idea what she was going to do.
You’re going to have a baby. Rational self was back and in taunting mood.
Shut-up.
What about the father?
Shut-up. Hermione felt the beginnings of a headache, which coupled with her nausea, were making the room spin.
What are you thinking?
SHUT-UP. She turned over to face the wall.
“Hermione?” asked Ginny. “What’s wrong?” She took Madame Ellsworth’s spot on the bed.
“Gods, Ginny, what am I going to do?” Hermione released the pillow to turn over and stare at the ceiling. There was a water stain above the bed.
“I thought you’d decided that,” Ginny answered.
‘I thought so also, but…” Hermione waved her arm. The stain had a shape like a rabbit, she decided.
“You didn’t drink the potion.”
“No.”
“Are you going to drink the potion?” asked Ginny.
“I don’t think I can.”
“Are you going to tell … them?”
“Gah! I don’t know,” whined Hermione. Maybe it will go away.
+++++
Several weeks later, Draco Malfoy was in his study when Lozzie announced that Ms. Ginevra Weasley wanted to speak with him.
“The youngest Weasley?” His eyebrows rose. “What could she possibly want?”
“I isn’t knowing, sir.”
“Takes after her mother, no doubt,” Draco said with a grimace.
“Who’s that?” asked Blaise Zabini, who had been snoozing on the patio outside the study. He’d come inside at the sound of Draco’s voice.
“Ginny Weasley.”
“What does she have to do with anything?”
“Lozzie says she’s here to see me,” Draco answered. “Maybe she angry because I didn’t hire her brother for the Wanderers?” Blaise shrugged. “Well, show her in, I suppose.”
Before Lozzie could turn around back toward the door, it was blown off its hinges by one Ginevra Weasley, who did indeed take after her mother. Draco and Blaise were stunned speechless by murderous brown eyes, and a wand drawn and ready for use.
“I cannot believe you two! Even after she told you?! And you still refuse to take any sort of responsibility?!” Ginny was panting hard. “Expelliarmus!” She shrieked and both men’s wands flew into her hands. “SIT!” She pointed to the settee with her wand.
They sat.
“Now then,” she straightened her shoulders. “What do you have to say for yourselves?”
Draco looked at Blaise, who shrugged.
“Don’t tell me you have nothing to say?!” Ginny paced, pausing every few steps to shake the three wands in her hand at the two men. Blaise and Draco dodged the sparks that fired on the upstrokes. “I can’t believe after 10 years you two are still doing that pureblood versus mudblood thing!” Draco mouthed “loopy” to his friend, who nodded in agreement. “After all the work you did for the Order! You should be ashamed of yourselves!” Ginny tossed their wands over her shoulder. “Hermione’s right, she’s better off.”
Ginny turned to exit from the study, but not before Draco grabbed his wand and shouted, “Impedimenta!”
Ginny’s feet stuck fast to the red oak tongue and groove.
“Malfoy, I swear!” Her voice rose to an ear-splitting screech. “I will hex you beyond the veil!”
“Shut up!” Draco waved his wand in Ginny’s face. “What do you mean Hermione’s better off?”
“You git! As if you didn’t know!”
“Perhaps, Miss Weasley,” Zabini’s cool tones said, “you might give us the benefit of the doubt. We have only seen Miss Granger one time since the end of the war. She left before breakfast, with no word since.”
“Rather rude of her,” remarked Draco.
“And beyond that,” continued Blaise, “we have heard nothing from or about Miss Granger since then.”
Ginny looked from Blaise’s blue eyes to Draco’s grey ones.
“So you truly don’t know?” she asked. “She told me she had notified you.”
“Just what is it we are supposed to know?” Blaise asked. He moved to stand by Draco who was leaning against his desk.
“Hermione is pregnant,” Ginny said.
Draco and Blaise exchanged a look.
“And what does this have to do with us?”
“Well, a few weeks back she told me about meeting both of you at Mysterious Magic. And her obvious lie about telling you not withstanding, she doesn’t shag just anyone,” Ginny replied, and returned their doubtful look with her own acid expression.
“True,” drawled Draco. “She’s such a snob.”
“Now, now, Malfoy,” Blaise commented, “It’s not nice to kiss and tell. She may have had a very good reason to leave before breakfast.”
“Plus,” Draco said, “there’s a way to be certain.”
Ginny wasn’t sure she trusted the glance that slithered between the two men. “What are you planning?” she asked, suspicious.
“I take it you know where Granger lives?” Draco asked.
“Yeees,” Ginny replied cautiously. “Why?”
“Take us there,” Blaise ordered. “We can ascertain for ourselves if Miss Granger’s condition is linked to us.”
“But isn’t that just a rumor?” asked Ginny. “Only one of you would be responsible, right? Trios don’t exist.”
“No,” replied Draco. He had rung for his cloak. “It’s possible that both of us are responsible. Blaise knows a charm that will tell us for certain” He waved his wand. “Finite Incatatum.”
Ginny moved to pick up her own wand. She did not understand why her friend had lied, but she did know Hermione had been very sick-to the point of nearly losing her job because of absences. Ginny knew that Hermione and her child needed help, and in Ginny’s mind that meant the father or as Draco had said, the fathers. “Alright, but you’d better be prepared for one unhappy Witch.”
+++++
The cool bathroom floor soothed her pounding head. For what had seemed like forever, Hermione had been unable to keep anything down. She’d missed several days (or was it weeks?) of work. Ginny had told her they were considering terminating her position. At this point, Hermione really didn’t care about her job or her apartment. Her world had narrowed to her flat’s small bathroom. She’d been retching yet more tea when Ginny had popped in to check on her whereabouts. Ginny had taken one look, asked about the male part of Hermione’s problem, and at Hermione’s response, Ginny had promptly popped out. Hermione was hoping Ginny had gone to get the latest potion recommended by Madame Ellsworth’s scroll, sent by owl, as Hermione had been unable to get back to St. Mungo’s. The last safe date for termination had come and gone while Hermione had been bent over the toilet.
She heard the telltale pop of Apparition, but figured it was Ginny coming back with the potion.
“Merlin,” a smooth masculine voice swore. “This place is repulsive.”
“Let’s see you keep up a flat with constant morning sickness and no House-Elves,” Ginny’s voice replied.
The bathroom door opened. Hermione squinted to see two pairs of dragon hide boots.
She didn’t! Her panicked mind exclaimed.
One pair of the boots moved around behind her, a set of knees joined the other pair.
“Come now, Miss Granger,” said Blaise Zabini. “This isn’t any way to greet guests.”
“Really,” drawled Draco Malfoy. “We were hoping for breakfast.”
Hermione groaned and tried to scramble away from the hands that lifted her gently from the floor.
She heard a whispered incantation before her vision was tinged with purple light as Draco’s hands grasped her knees to swing her up into his arms and Blaise’s hands swept her wet, sweaty hair from her face. The hands of the men glowed blue and drew a rose aura from Hermione’s skin. The two colors mixed to create a purple nimbus that surrounded the trio before disappearing into a fine mist.
“You were right,” Ginny said in awe. “It’s not just a rumor.”
“No, Miss Weasley,” confirmed Blaise. “It’s not just a rumor. And it appears we both bear responsibility. If only one of us were the father, the spell wouldn’t have registered anything.”
“We’ll need Lozzie,” said Draco. He stepped over a pile of clothes to lay Hermione gently on her bed. “She can help us clean and pack.”
“Nooooo,” Hermione groaned. “I can’t believe you…” She opened reddened eyes to try and glare at her friend.
“What?” Ginny asked. “Hermione, you needed help. Besides, you said you had told them.” Her expression turned sly. “Both of them…you lucky cow!”
Hermione moaned and tried to bury herself into her rumpled bed.
“Hush,” Draco admonished. “You’re going to be fine.” He rose, waved his wand, and clapped his hands.
“Yes, Master Draco?” Lozzie appeared in Hermione’s flat with the chime of an organ’s chord.
“Would you please assemble some of the other elves to clean this,” he gestured with his hands to indicate the messy bedroom and flat beyond, “and with Miss Weasley’s supervision, pack what’s necessary? We’ll need a wardrobe added to our suite at the Manor. “
“No!” Hermione tried to sit up. “I’m not leaving.”
Blaise sat down on the edge of the bed and supported her with an arm.
“You can’t stay here, love,” he said. “You’re not well enough.”
“Yes, Master Draco,” replied Lozzie. “Lozzie is taking care of everything.” She looked dubiously at Hermione’s cluttered apartment. “All the clothes are dirty,”
“Do you have any clothes of Mother’s?” Draco asked. “The Mistress is in a delicate condition.” The elf’s ears perked up and she straightened her tea towel toga.
“There’s things in the large house’s attic,” the elf replied. “They will be fitting the Mistress.” She looked around the room and out into the rest of the flat. “Lozzie is bringing clothes with Zinnie and Furnie, to help.”
“Yes, that’s good, thank you,” replied Draco.
The elf curtsied and disappeared from the flat with another musical note.
“Stop,” Hermione said. “You can’t…”
“Hermione, shush,” replied Draco. “She needs food,” he remarked to Blaise.
“And a bath,” returned the black-haired Wizard. “I remember a remedy mentioned by my sisters. And I believe I can manage some food.”
Draco nodded. He took a look at Hermione’s Muggle tub. Waving his wand, he started water filling the tub. “Come here, love. You’ll feel better after a bath.” He stripped off his dark green, frock coat and rolled up his sleeves. Blaise picked Hermione up and passed her, sputtering, off to the blond. His arms free, Blaise stripped off his black frock coat and rolled up his sleeves to do battle with Hermione’s kitchen.
Lozzie and two other elves appeared with a series of chords and chimes. All three curtsied to Draco and Blaise. Immediately, the two shorter elves started cleaning the bedroom.
“Lozzie found clothes,” Lozzie squeaked, and laid a gown and robe on the bed.
“Miss Weasley here,” Blaise told the two cleaning elves, “will help you with your chores.” He looked at Ginny who had an amused expression on her face. The elves curtsied to Ginny and resumed their cleaning activities.
“Will you two stop it?” Hermione tried to wiggle out of Draco’s hold. “You can’t just come in here and take over!”
Blaise turned to his blond counterpart and the weakly wriggling woman in his arms. He stared down at Hermione, who under the weight of his gaze stopped squirming. “I believe you need a bath, sweet, and then some food. That’s all you need to focus on.” He ran a thumb over her cheek before placing a swift hard kiss on her mouth, stunning Hermione into silence. Blaise straightened and met Draco’s eyes. They smiled at each other. Blaise turned for the kitchen, and Draco carried Hermione into the bathroom.
“Can you stand?” Draco asked.
“Yes,” said Hermione, still struggling to get out of Draco’s arms. He took a cue from her movements and dropped the arm holding her knees to allow her feet to touch the tiled floor.
Hermione attempted to stand, but her knees buckled under a wave of nausea. Her breath shot out of her, and she sagged against Draco’s taller frame.
“Easy,” he said. “Take it slow.” His hands reached around her to undo the buttons on her oversized shirt.
“Stop,” Hermione protested. She plucked at Draco’s hands as they pulled the shirt off her shoulders and down her arms. He continued and made quick work of her knit trousers and camisole. Hermione’s arms crossed over her larger breasts in embarrassment, but Draco wasn’t leering at her. His attention had focused on her belly, which had a barely visible curve showing the four months of her pregnancy.
Hermione froze, half nauseous, half aroused, as Draco’s hands rose to run over the taut, smooth skin. The purple glow returned as their magic merged. Hermione moaned at the overwhelming warmth spreading from the touch of Draco’s hands on her belly and the feel of his lips against her temple.
“Beautiful,” he whispered. Hermione shuddered against him. “But now is not the time for this, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Into the bath with you,” he guided her to the warm water, fragrant with the scent of lavender.
Hermione gagged as her stomach lurched violently. Her knees buckled.
“Easy, love, what is it?” Draco asked. He sank with her to the bathroom floor. “What’s wrong?”
“The lavender,” Hermione whispered. Her body shook with tremors of nausea. “I can’t stand it.”
“Ah, no problem,” replied Draco, a relieved expression on his face. He waved his wand and the aroma disappeared.
Hermione let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. Swallowing against the bile stinging her throat and pulling herself up on Draco’s body, she made her way unsteadily to the bathtub. With a sigh of satisfaction, Hermione sank into the water and dozed, letting the warmth soothe her nerves and aches. She sank lower in the tub and was about submerge her head under the water when a knock at the door startled her back to reality, but she refused to open her eyes.
“Here, Hermione,” Blaise’s voice said. He drew a finger along her shoulder. “Drink this. My sister swore by it when her first never allowed her stomach to settle.”
Hermione opened one eye and peered at the angelic face by the edge of the tub.
“Ginny was quite correct,” Draco mocked. “Miss Granger is neither pleased nor is she in a good mood.”
Hermione scowled.
“Well then,” Blaise drawled, “we’ll have to do something to fix that, won’t we?” He levered the mug over Hermione. “Please try this, Hermione.” His eyes ran over her nude form beneath the water. “You’re even more beautiful than I remembered.” He ran one finger over the line of her shoulder and down between her breasts, creating a tracery of purple that followed his touch.
“I suppose you won’t let me be until I drink the tea, will you?” remarked Hermione. She sat up against the back of the tub. Once upright, she took the mug and took cautious sips under the watchful eyes of her two keepers.
The bite and spice of the peppermint was overlaid with the sweetness of honey. Both flavors hit and fought on her tongue, but in her belly, they evened out and quieted the nausea. For the first time in a long while, Hermione actually wanted to drink and eat something.
Forgetting her minders, she smiled and drank the warm tea and settled back into the bath, her mind and her body at peace.
“My compliments to your sister,” Draco said.
“Why are you two still here?” asked Hermione, peeved that Blaise’s tea had settled her stomach.
“Food next, I think,” remarked Blaise. “Miss Weasley has told me that eggs have stayed down.”
“Do you even know how to cook?” asked Hermione. “Aren’t you at the mercy of the House-Elves?”
“Drink your tea, darling,” replied Blaise. “This time, you’re not leaving before breakfast.” He left the bathroom.
“Have you finished?” asked Draco after a few minutes.
“Yes,” answered Hermione.
Draco knelt down by the tub. Her took her empty mug and set it aside. He took up a flannel and a new bar of soap. “Sit up,” he said. “Let me wash your back.”
Hermione blanked from her mind the fact that Draco Malfoy was bathing her. She allowed herself to briefly forget that she was pregnant with his and Zabini’s child. These thoughts flew from her mind only to return with full force when Draco’s hands ran the flannel and soap over her hard, barely curved belly, and the water glowed with a soft purple light. Hermione shifted fitfully and tried to cringe from his ministrations.
“Easy. It’s okay,” Draco murmured, placing a kiss on her forehead. “You’re fine.”
Easy, he said. She sighed. It was easy, just relinquish control, just for now, and let them deal with all of it. She rose at the press of Draco’s hands; standing at his direction while a fine cotton nightgown was dropped over her head. She allowed a brocade dressing gown to be wrapped around her body. She sat and didn’t feel the comb gently pulled through her hair, neither did she feel the elf hands that showed Draco Malfoy how to braid the thick strands so they wouldn’t tangle while drying.
The need to sleep was overpowering, her eyes closing and her body listing to lean against her escort.
“Just a few minutes more, and you can sleep,” whispered Draco. “You need to eat first.”
“No,” whinged Hermione. “Don wanna.” Lethargy was slurring her speech.
“Are you sure?” asked Blaise. “After all, I cooked. And you missed breakfast last time.” He had come in while Lozzie was showing Draco the finer points of hair braiding. He held out a plate towards Hermione whose stomach grumbled loudly. “I’m certain you can manage a few bites.”
Hermione looked at the plate. “An omelet?” she asked. “With mushrooms?” Her expression was rapturous. “How did you know?” She took the plate and began to wolf down the eggs. “It’s delicious.” She smiled at the two men who grinned back at her. “This does not, however, mean you can come in and take over.”
“Of course not,” replied Blaise. “We’d never do that, would we?”
“Not at all,” agreed Draco. He grabbed Hermione’s empty plate just before she dropped it.
“Sleepy,” she said and squinted at the bed. She rose and made her way to the freshly made bed. “Clean sheets,” she sighed before falling straight to sleep.
+++++
The late morning sunlight finally forced her eyes open. The first things that came into focus were the dark blue drapes hanging from the canopy.
But I don’t have… Oh! They didn’t! She sat up and glared at the room. The last time she’d seen its rich decor; she had been…No, not thinking about it. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stood and grabbed for one of the tall posts, her stomach lurching.
“No! No more morning sickness!” she wailed, as if her will could control her traitorous body. Her stomach, however, refused to listen to her spoken command and heaved again. She stumbled toward a door, which opened before she could grasp the knob.
“You’re awake, good,” said Blaise. “Here love, let me help you.” He caught her up in his arms just as her knees buckled under the influence of her spinning head and stomach. Hermione whimpered and clutched at his shirt. “Back to bed with you,” he said and deposited her back against the pillows. “Draco is coming with your tea and some food.”
Hermione buried her head into the cotton of Blaise’s shirt and started sobbing. In the back of her mind, she was aware of a more rational self tsking over the current person at the mercy of a hormone-wracked body. Dimly, she realized that Blaise had stretched out beside her and wrapped his arms around her shaking form.
“I’m so tired,” she blubbered between hiccoughing sobs. “I just want it to stop.”
“I know, I know,” he murmured, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back. “I know. We’ve called Madame Ellsworth from St. Mungo’s. We’re hoping she can help.”
“She tried,” Hermione wailed, and scrubbed at her face. “She can’t do anything.”
“Zabini! What’d you do to her?” asked Draco. He entered the room with a tray.
“Don’t yell at him!” Hermione sobbed, hiccoughing. “He was trying to help.”
“She can’t help the tears,” Blaise said. Hermione had re-buried her face into his chest and he stroked her hair. An amused smile caused by her defense of him curved his lips.
“Ah,” said Draco, winking at Blaise. He set the tray on a table by the bed. “Com’on Granger, try some tea.”
Hermione turned, sniffling, toward the blond and took the mug he held out for her. She sniffed the barely steaming liquid and inhaled the familiar aroma of peppermint and honey. Her stomach gave one final push before settling down in expectation. She took an experimental sip. The liquid settled warm and calm into her stomach. She drank a few more swigs before looking up. She dragged a hand across her sticky eyes.
“Do I smell food?” she asked.
Draco and Blaise breathed an ensemble sigh of relief.
“Do you think you can eat?” Draco asked.
Hermione nodded while her stomach growled in agreement.
“Give your cup to Draco, sweetheart,” Blaise said. “Let me help you.” He stood and supported Hermione as she clambered off and wobbled around the bed over to the table.
“Oh! Steak and eggs! And mushrooms!” she exclaimed and proceeded to devour her breakfast. Her companions sat to eat their own meals. Hermione sat back with a sigh of happiness. She could finally eat. She was rather surprised by her sudden love of sautéed mushrooms. She’d never been particularly fond of fungi prior to being pregnant, but now she adored them. “Well, gentlemen,” she began. Draco and Blaise looked at her with identical raised eyebrows. “Thank you for your help, but…”
“But?” interrupted Draco. “There’s nothing you need to say or do, except take your bath and relax until Madame Ellsworth comes.”
“Malfoy! Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t stay here,” Hermione said. “I have a job and a flat.”
“Actually, love,” replied Blaise while pouring more tea into Hermione’s cup, “you don’t. We settled your lease and given your condition, you can no longer work with experimental potions.”
Hermione stared at the two men. “You?! You?! What about my furniture? My life? How dare you?! It was only one night!” Hermione stood and started pacing. “You can’t just take over!”
Draco rose from the table and started toward Hermione with an intent look on his face. Blaise flanked her. Hermione saw their expressions and backed away until she hit the wall.
“You two cannot tell me that one night was anything other than…” she squeaked.
“Other than what?” breathed Draco against her temple. One arm snaked around her waist.
“Yes, other than what?” Blaise’s voice rumbled in her ear. His hand rose to her shoulder. His mouth kissed her ear before catching her lobe in his teeth. His hand smoothed over her breast.
Draco’s lips ran light kisses along her cheek before dropping to nibble along her neck.
Hermione felt the tremors start along her body as the two men pressed into her frame. They were hard and warm. Two pairs of hands stroked randomly at her breasts, belly, back and thighs. She heard a throaty moan and was startled to realize that the feral sound came from her own throat.
“You left,” Blaise whispered in her ear.
“Before we,” Draco continued.
“Could see,” Blaise again.
“If this,” Draco kissed her mouth.
“Was more,” Blaise kissed the pulse in her throat.
“Than just one night,” They finished in unison before each laid a kiss on her mouth.
“And now,” Draco continued, but both laid a hand on her slightly curved belly, “this is definitely more than one night.”
“Indeed,” affirmed Blaise. “To the bath with you.” He turned a stunned Hermione toward the door that led to the bathroom.
+++++
“Now then Mister Malfoy and Mister Zabini, whilst I appreciate your regard,” said Madame Ellsworth, after taking a seat and cup of tea, “I am curious as to why you gentlemen need a midwife.”
Draco and Blaise sat on the sofa opposite the medi-witch. They looked at each other before Blaise decided to speak.
“We have asked you here to discuss the health of Miss Hermione Granger,” he said.
The door to the study opened and an elf followed by a very peaked looking Hermione entered the room.
“Masters Blaise and Draco, we’s run out of tea,” the elf said, looking fearful.
“We can’t have that,” replied Blaise. “I’ll take care of it.” He followed the elf out of the study.
Draco got up and led Hermione over to the sofa. “Just a few minutes, love,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”
“Maybe breakfast wasn’t such a good idea,” Hermione whined. She leaned back against the upholstery.
“You see,” said Draco. “She can’t get beyond the morning sickness.”
“Indeed, I do,” replied the midwife. “I’ll need to fire-call for her scroll. I presume, Miss Granger, that you know the date for termination has passed?”
Hermione felt Draco stiffen next to her. Damn, she thought. Why’d the bat have to bring that up?
“Miss Granger?” the midwife prodded.
Hermione nodded and whispered, “Yes,” but refused to open her eyes. She heard the Witch make her fire-call, and then she heard the door open, and a few seconds later, the comforting smell of peppermint and honey wafted into her nostrils. Blindly, she took the mug and sipped. Opening her eyes cautiously, she looked around the room, avoiding both Draco and Blaise.
“Now then,” started Madame Ellsworth. “Since you’re keeping the child, I’ll need to get a more detailed history.”
“Keeping the child?” asked Blaise, too quietly. Hermione cringed.
The Witch ignored the question and proceeded to interrogate Hermione as to her parents, their medical histories, and her own medical history. Then she turned on Blaise and Draco who answered with monotones.
“Now then, which one of you is the father?” the midwife asked.
“We both are,” they replied.
Madame Ellsworth’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed,” she replied. “And how was this ascertained?”
“The Relavatio Identi spell,” replied Blaise, “with a modification from my mother.”
“I’ve never encountered a trio before,” muttered the medi-witch. “May I ask for a verification?”
“Certainly,” Blaise said. He drew his wand from his sleeve and murmured a few words. Then, he and Draco both laid their hands on Hermione’s shoulders. There was no denying it this time. Their blue-tinged magic jumped in recognition of Hermione’s rose tinted aura and mixed in an energetic spiral that turned purple and enveloped the three of them.
“My, my,” breathed Madame Ellsworth, “how beautiful. You’re the first trio in quite a long time. Well then, there are some things you’ll need to know.”
The midwife proceeded to tell them that the baby would be due around Christmas time. Hermione would be very lucky to be able to get through the summer in her early trimesters. She answered Hermione’s questions with sympathy. Yes, Hermione’s magic would grow increasingly unstable as the baby developed, especially since there were three magical lines involved. No, she shouldn’t Apparate under her own power, but joint Apparation was fine. Her magic would calm down after the birth, hence, the reason that most Witches didn’t leave their houses during pregnancy. And she was very sorry, but working with experimental potions was definitely out of the question. She continued to caution all of them that Hermione’s moods would also be unstable and that the gentlemen would have to be very patient with her. She did say, much to Hermione’s blushing chagrin and the men’s grins, that sexual relations were very possible until the last unless Hermione felt uncomfortable. After her lecture about decreasing caffeine, very limited alcohol, and plenty of red meat, fresh fruits and vegetables, Madame Ellsworth took her leave after establishing another appointment for the next month. Just as she was about to Apparate away, the midwife sent Lozzie into the study with a scroll detailing a recipe for a ginger-based potion that a Chinese colleague had discussed at a conference. When combined with Blaise’s tea recipe, it would help settle the morning sickness.
Hermione sat depressed in the quiet of the medi-witch’s departure. Another steaming mug of peppermint tea appeared on the table before her. She sighed, bemoaning a life that had been reduced to mugs of tea and cravings for mushrooms.
“Now then, what’s this about not keeping the child?” asked Blaise.
“Yes, Hermione, that was very distressing news,” Draco confirmed.
Hermione sat quietly looking closely at each of them. She took up her mug and sipped before addressing their identical questions.
“What do you want me to say?” she asked. “I hadn’t honestly thought beyond that night. And when I found out I was…” she shifted uncomfortably, “pregnant, it didn’t occur to me to contact you. Why would it? I went to the nightclub. I propositioned you. I didn’t cast a contraceptive spell. Plus, I figured with all the prior history between us…” Draco and Blaise looked at her in amazement.
“Hermione,” Blaise began, “the war has been over for what? Ten years. Surely we have moved beyond our school-days history. I realize that Potter and Weasley will never grow-up, but I thought we had made peace with you.”
“I suppose,” replied Hermione. “At any rate, when I reached the clinic, I found I couldn’t drink the potion.” Hermione looked away from the Slytherins’ intent gazes. “That’s all there is to tell.” Feeling twitchy under the blue-eyed and grey-eyed regard, Hermione got up from her chair and began to pace the length of the study.
“What I don’t understand,” said Draco, “is why you never contacted us?”
“I told you,” answered Hermione. “It was just one night. That’s all.”
“And now?” asked Blaise.
“I have no idea,” replied Hermione. “Thanks to you, I have no job and no flat.”
“Hermione,” said Draco. “You don’t have to worry about anything. You can stay here. We’ll take care of everything.”
“And after?” asked Hermione.
“After what?” asked Blaise.
“You cannot expect me just to hand over my child,” replied Hermione. She had no idea where this possessiveness had come from, but the thought of just leaving the baby with the two Slytherins did not sit well with her psyche.
“Hand over your child?” Draco echoed. “What are you babbling on about now?”
At his acerbic tone, Hermione felt herself crumple. Her face must have shown impending tears as Blaise quickly rose and embraced the teary Witch.
“Easy, sweetheart, easy,” he murmured into her hair and quickly led her back to the sofa. “You must forgive Draco, lovely, he’s just very concerned about you. After all you have been ill. But what he means to say is that we want you here, now, and after the child is born.” He kissed her gently.
Draco joined them on the sofa. “Blaise is right,” he said, taking hold of her hand to lay a kiss on the palm and the reverse. “We do want you to stay. You’re the mother of our child. Besides, that one night was good, wasn’t it?”
Hermione blushed and ducked her head.
“Ah, look at her beautiful blush, Draco,” cooed Blaise.
“You know, Blaise, I wonder if there’s another cure for her moodiness?” Draco asked. He ran a finger down her cheek to trace a line from her neck to the neckline of her tunic. The finger paused at the valley between her breasts. “Do you think about that night, Hermione? Do you lay awake and remember how I lapped at you and made you moan and shriek?”
Hermione groaned softly. Her chest rose and fell with her panting breaths.
“I think she does,” Blaise whispered. He laid his lips on the throbbing pulse in Hermione’s neck. “Is that what’s been bothering you, lovely? That we haven’t paid enough attention to you?” His hand came up to trace the line of her breast. “Are you missing my hands on your skin?”
Hermione whimpered. Blaise’s hand turned her head and his lips met hers.
The sensations the two men were creating overwhelmed the Witch, and Hermione found herself fighting for control.
“No, no, no,” she cried and wrenched herself off the sofa. “You can’t do this. You cannot waltz into my life and take over.” She returned to pacing and wringing her hands. “I can’t do this.” She waved her hand at the two bewildered men. “I barely know you.”
“Then what do you propose?” asked Draco. He stood and stopped Hermione from pacing. “We do know you.” He kissed her gently. “And we do want you.” He led her back to Blaise. “We apologize for, as you’ve said, taking over, but when we saw you…”
“On the bathroom floor,” Blaise picked up the narrative. “We were so worried. We felt responsible, as we could have cast the contraceptive charm as well, darling.” Blaise took her hand and kissed it. “We were so surprised that night, when you came over and made your wishes so obviously known.” He moved in to embrace her.
“Yes, love,” Draco said, and encircled her waist with her arms. “Imagine our delight. During school and the war, you had always been so unapproachable, so untouchable. Blaise and I spent the war watching you, wanting you, and not able to have you.”
Hermione looked at them in astonishment. She shook her head in denial. “No,” she whispered. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way. It was only supposed to be one night.” Hermione kept shaking her head, on the verge of tears again. “I need...I need…” Blindly she turned away from the two Wizards. “I need to get out of here. Think,” she said, and walked out the French doors onto the patio.
Draco made to go after her, but Blaise caught his arm. “Let her go,” Blaise said. “She needs time.”
“But what if she leaves?” Draco asked, looking worried.
“She won’t,” replied Blaise.
“How do you know?” Draco stared hard at the open doors.
Blaise sighed, half amused and half annoyed. Draco had always been such a possessive git, so used to getting his way that when he didn’t, he still threw tantrums. “She can’t Apparate, as Madame Ellsworth told us. She’ll come back when she’s thought everything through. We’ve overwhelmed her, and she’s used to being in control. You remember how she used to order Weasley and Potter about.”
“True.” Draco’s voice was rueful. “I hate the thought that she might leave and take our child with her.”
“I know, dragon, I know,” replied Blaise. He stood beside Draco and watched the figure of their Witch stroll through the neatly laid out rose garden that fronted the stone patio. “But you know we can’t tie her up.”
“Can’t we?” asked Draco.
Blaise chuckled and turned away. “No, love, but you can tie me up.”
Draco leered at his lover.
+++++
Chapter Two
Author: Lillith Janvier (lillith_janvier@yahoo.com)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A one-night stand has lasting consequences.
Author’s Notes:
1. Many thanks to all my lovely betas: Crow, Shadowfey, Juliane, and Shags the Dustmop. I very much appreciate your comments and corrections.
2. The Relavatio Identi charm that Blaise performs is made up. In fact, it is the author abusing Latin for her own whim. I use a list of Medieval Latin words and phrases that I acquired when studying 12th century French love poetry.
3. Your humble author has never been pregnant. Hermione’s behavior and pregnancy were derived using a composite of the pregnancies of three of the author’s friends. One of Lillith’s friends did indeed have morning sickness well into the sixth month. Drugs had no effect. The friend now has a beautiful baby girl. Your mileage may vary.
For the third time that week, Hermione vomited her breakfast of dry toast and tea into the toilet. Leaning back against the brick wall, she counted the blue tiles in the floor pattern, reaching the number 137 before her stomach stopped heaving and settled into a general nausea. She pulled herself up by the toilet paper holder, stood for an expectant moment, opened the stall door, and shakily made her way to the basins on the opposite wall. The cool water felt wonderful as it splashed on her face, and the slightly sweet taste banished the sour residue of the second-hand tea. She was bent over still splashing her face when she heard Ginny’s voice.
“Hey there, Hermione. Are you okay?”
Hermione looked up at the sound.
“Oy! You look terrible!”
“Yes, I know,” replied Hermione. “I’ve caught some bug. I can’t keep food down, and I’m really tired.”
“Are you sure you’re not pregnant?” joked Ginny.
Hermione’s face paled to ash and her stomach fell to her feet. Turning, she ran back into the stall. Ginny followed and pulled back Hermione’s unruly hair, and a cup of water appeared in her line of sight. After rinsing her mouth, Hermione sighed and leaned back against the wall again. She closed her eyes as Ginny plopped down on the floor next to her, carefully warding the Ladies’ Room first.
“So, do you have something to tell me?” asked Ginny. “Your reaction to my joke was rather extreme.”
“Yes,” Hermione whispered.
Ginny stared at her friend. “How? You’ve never mentioned anyone.”
“And it’s not a long story either.”
“Well, let’s go down and get you something to eat. You can tell me all about it,” Ginny suggested.
Hermione stood shakily and allowed her friend to lead her out of the toilet.
+++++
“Both of them?!” Ginny exclaimed.
Hermione shrugged and swallowed a mouthful of egg. “It was a stressful week. They were there.”
“They were where exactly?” asked the red head.
“Mysterious Magic, it’s a…”
“I know what Mysterious Magic is,” Ginny interrupted. “What I don’t understand is what you were doing there? Nightclubs aren’t your thing.”
“I told you it was a stressful week,” groused Hermione. “My team had blown up the lab twice, and we were still no closer to solving that potions problem. I needed to blow off some steam. Padma invited me out, and I went.”
“Obviously,” replied Ginny. “So what are you going to do?”
“What do you mean?” asked Hermione around a mouth of bacon.
“Are you going to tell him? Them? Marry them? Adopt it out?”
“Why would you assume I’d keep it?” Hermione stared steadily at her friend. Ginny grimaced.
“You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I could never…”
Hermione nodded. “It’s okay, Gin. Everyone’s different.”
“True,” she affirmed. “After all, marry Malfoy? How hideous.”
“Don’t forget Zabini,” Hermione reminded her. “It could be his.”
“It could be both of them.”
“Huh? I don’t think that’s possible,” Hermione mumbled around a mouthful of toast and egg.
“Well, there are old stories about trios, but it hasn’t happened for a long time. A lot of us thought you, Ron, and Harry…”
“Ginny, ew!” Hermione grimaced. “They are nice, but in no way attractive like that. I’d be like…just ew.”
Ginny shook her head. “Yeah, I know, but you can’t blame people for thinking.”
“No,” Hermione affirmed. “Just no.” She took another bite. “Now, Draco and Blaise, that’s another story.”
Ginny laughed. “So you’ve said. I still can’t believe you had both of them.” Ginny grinned at her friend. “Were they good?”
Hermione blushed. “Oh yes,” she purred and returned the grin, but it quickly faded. “You can’t tell Harry or Ron,” she said. “You know how they get.”
“Don’t I ever. They’ve never liked Draco or Blaise,” agreed Ginny. “Let me know when you make your appointment at St. Mungo’s. I’ll go with you. I’ve heard you won’t be feeling so good after the potion.”
“Thanks, Ginny.” Hermione smiled. “That means a lot to me.”
“No problem,” said Ginny. “That’s what friends are for, but you gotta tell me something.”
“What?”
“Well,” started Ginny with a sly look, “there were these rumors at school…”
Hermione looked questioningly at her friend.
“About Malfoy and his tongue?” finished Ginny.
Hermione blushed furiously.
“They’re true?!”
Hermione nodded.
“You lucky bint!”
+++++
The clinic’s treatment room was painted in soothing shades of blue. Nondescript pictures of flowers and fruit adorned the walls. A woman with a midwife’s pin on the lapel of her robes stepped through the door. She peered at the scroll in her hand and at Hermione sitting on the bed.
“Miss Granger?” the medi-witch verified.
“Yes,” confirmed Hermione.
“I am Madame Ellsworth. I trust my nurse explained the effects of the potion?”
Hermione nodded.
“You’ve signed the consent forms?”
“Yes,” Hermione said.
“And you have someone to see you home afterward?”
“Yes, my friend’s out in the waiting room.”
“And you’re six weeks along?”
Hermione swallowed. “Yes.”
“Good.” The medi-witch sat down at a lab-type table and waved her wand. Potions ingredients appeared and she started mixing them into the abortifacient. She gave Hermione a stoneware mug with a yellow potion in it. “You’ll want to drink it all in one go. It’s not very palatable, I’m afraid.”
Hermione took the mug. She brought to her lips, once, twice, and a third time. Looking at the mug, several thoughts ran through her head at once.
Drink the potion, rational self said.
I can’t.
What?! Rational self screeched like Ginny’s mum.
I just can’t. A child can’t be that hard, can it? Women have children every day. I mean, I’m 30. I have enough money.
And the father or fathers? Rational was tapping her foot now.
It was only one night.
Yeah, one night you forgot your contraceptive charm.
Maybe it was fate.
Now you’ve really gone round the bend… Rational shook her head and stalked off.
“Is there a problem?” Madame Ellsworth’s question interrupted Hermione’s mental back and forth.
“I...I...I,” Hermione stuttered. She shoved the mug towards the medi-witch, wrapped her arms around her middle, and collapsed onto the bed.
“Oh, my dear!” Madame Ellsworth exclaimed. She sat down on the bed next to Hermione. “You don’t have to do this today.” She patted Hermione’s shoulder. “You have six more weeks.”
Hermione buried her shaking head in the bed’s pillow. “I don’t think six more weeks will make a difference,” she said with a shaky voice. “I think I’m stuck.”
“Let me get your friend,” said Madame Ellsworth. “Perhaps she can help.” She patted Hermione’s hand and left the room to get Ginny Weasley.
Hermione rolled over and covered her eyes with her arm. She had no idea what she was going to do.
You’re going to have a baby. Rational self was back and in taunting mood.
Shut-up.
What about the father?
Shut-up. Hermione felt the beginnings of a headache, which coupled with her nausea, were making the room spin.
What are you thinking?
SHUT-UP. She turned over to face the wall.
“Hermione?” asked Ginny. “What’s wrong?” She took Madame Ellsworth’s spot on the bed.
“Gods, Ginny, what am I going to do?” Hermione released the pillow to turn over and stare at the ceiling. There was a water stain above the bed.
“I thought you’d decided that,” Ginny answered.
‘I thought so also, but…” Hermione waved her arm. The stain had a shape like a rabbit, she decided.
“You didn’t drink the potion.”
“No.”
“Are you going to drink the potion?” asked Ginny.
“I don’t think I can.”
“Are you going to tell … them?”
“Gah! I don’t know,” whined Hermione. Maybe it will go away.
+++++
Several weeks later, Draco Malfoy was in his study when Lozzie announced that Ms. Ginevra Weasley wanted to speak with him.
“The youngest Weasley?” His eyebrows rose. “What could she possibly want?”
“I isn’t knowing, sir.”
“Takes after her mother, no doubt,” Draco said with a grimace.
“Who’s that?” asked Blaise Zabini, who had been snoozing on the patio outside the study. He’d come inside at the sound of Draco’s voice.
“Ginny Weasley.”
“What does she have to do with anything?”
“Lozzie says she’s here to see me,” Draco answered. “Maybe she angry because I didn’t hire her brother for the Wanderers?” Blaise shrugged. “Well, show her in, I suppose.”
Before Lozzie could turn around back toward the door, it was blown off its hinges by one Ginevra Weasley, who did indeed take after her mother. Draco and Blaise were stunned speechless by murderous brown eyes, and a wand drawn and ready for use.
“I cannot believe you two! Even after she told you?! And you still refuse to take any sort of responsibility?!” Ginny was panting hard. “Expelliarmus!” She shrieked and both men’s wands flew into her hands. “SIT!” She pointed to the settee with her wand.
They sat.
“Now then,” she straightened her shoulders. “What do you have to say for yourselves?”
Draco looked at Blaise, who shrugged.
“Don’t tell me you have nothing to say?!” Ginny paced, pausing every few steps to shake the three wands in her hand at the two men. Blaise and Draco dodged the sparks that fired on the upstrokes. “I can’t believe after 10 years you two are still doing that pureblood versus mudblood thing!” Draco mouthed “loopy” to his friend, who nodded in agreement. “After all the work you did for the Order! You should be ashamed of yourselves!” Ginny tossed their wands over her shoulder. “Hermione’s right, she’s better off.”
Ginny turned to exit from the study, but not before Draco grabbed his wand and shouted, “Impedimenta!”
Ginny’s feet stuck fast to the red oak tongue and groove.
“Malfoy, I swear!” Her voice rose to an ear-splitting screech. “I will hex you beyond the veil!”
“Shut up!” Draco waved his wand in Ginny’s face. “What do you mean Hermione’s better off?”
“You git! As if you didn’t know!”
“Perhaps, Miss Weasley,” Zabini’s cool tones said, “you might give us the benefit of the doubt. We have only seen Miss Granger one time since the end of the war. She left before breakfast, with no word since.”
“Rather rude of her,” remarked Draco.
“And beyond that,” continued Blaise, “we have heard nothing from or about Miss Granger since then.”
Ginny looked from Blaise’s blue eyes to Draco’s grey ones.
“So you truly don’t know?” she asked. “She told me she had notified you.”
“Just what is it we are supposed to know?” Blaise asked. He moved to stand by Draco who was leaning against his desk.
“Hermione is pregnant,” Ginny said.
Draco and Blaise exchanged a look.
“And what does this have to do with us?”
“Well, a few weeks back she told me about meeting both of you at Mysterious Magic. And her obvious lie about telling you not withstanding, she doesn’t shag just anyone,” Ginny replied, and returned their doubtful look with her own acid expression.
“True,” drawled Draco. “She’s such a snob.”
“Now, now, Malfoy,” Blaise commented, “It’s not nice to kiss and tell. She may have had a very good reason to leave before breakfast.”
“Plus,” Draco said, “there’s a way to be certain.”
Ginny wasn’t sure she trusted the glance that slithered between the two men. “What are you planning?” she asked, suspicious.
“I take it you know where Granger lives?” Draco asked.
“Yeees,” Ginny replied cautiously. “Why?”
“Take us there,” Blaise ordered. “We can ascertain for ourselves if Miss Granger’s condition is linked to us.”
“But isn’t that just a rumor?” asked Ginny. “Only one of you would be responsible, right? Trios don’t exist.”
“No,” replied Draco. He had rung for his cloak. “It’s possible that both of us are responsible. Blaise knows a charm that will tell us for certain” He waved his wand. “Finite Incatatum.”
Ginny moved to pick up her own wand. She did not understand why her friend had lied, but she did know Hermione had been very sick-to the point of nearly losing her job because of absences. Ginny knew that Hermione and her child needed help, and in Ginny’s mind that meant the father or as Draco had said, the fathers. “Alright, but you’d better be prepared for one unhappy Witch.”
+++++
The cool bathroom floor soothed her pounding head. For what had seemed like forever, Hermione had been unable to keep anything down. She’d missed several days (or was it weeks?) of work. Ginny had told her they were considering terminating her position. At this point, Hermione really didn’t care about her job or her apartment. Her world had narrowed to her flat’s small bathroom. She’d been retching yet more tea when Ginny had popped in to check on her whereabouts. Ginny had taken one look, asked about the male part of Hermione’s problem, and at Hermione’s response, Ginny had promptly popped out. Hermione was hoping Ginny had gone to get the latest potion recommended by Madame Ellsworth’s scroll, sent by owl, as Hermione had been unable to get back to St. Mungo’s. The last safe date for termination had come and gone while Hermione had been bent over the toilet.
She heard the telltale pop of Apparition, but figured it was Ginny coming back with the potion.
“Merlin,” a smooth masculine voice swore. “This place is repulsive.”
“Let’s see you keep up a flat with constant morning sickness and no House-Elves,” Ginny’s voice replied.
The bathroom door opened. Hermione squinted to see two pairs of dragon hide boots.
She didn’t! Her panicked mind exclaimed.
One pair of the boots moved around behind her, a set of knees joined the other pair.
“Come now, Miss Granger,” said Blaise Zabini. “This isn’t any way to greet guests.”
“Really,” drawled Draco Malfoy. “We were hoping for breakfast.”
Hermione groaned and tried to scramble away from the hands that lifted her gently from the floor.
She heard a whispered incantation before her vision was tinged with purple light as Draco’s hands grasped her knees to swing her up into his arms and Blaise’s hands swept her wet, sweaty hair from her face. The hands of the men glowed blue and drew a rose aura from Hermione’s skin. The two colors mixed to create a purple nimbus that surrounded the trio before disappearing into a fine mist.
“You were right,” Ginny said in awe. “It’s not just a rumor.”
“No, Miss Weasley,” confirmed Blaise. “It’s not just a rumor. And it appears we both bear responsibility. If only one of us were the father, the spell wouldn’t have registered anything.”
“We’ll need Lozzie,” said Draco. He stepped over a pile of clothes to lay Hermione gently on her bed. “She can help us clean and pack.”
“Nooooo,” Hermione groaned. “I can’t believe you…” She opened reddened eyes to try and glare at her friend.
“What?” Ginny asked. “Hermione, you needed help. Besides, you said you had told them.” Her expression turned sly. “Both of them…you lucky cow!”
Hermione moaned and tried to bury herself into her rumpled bed.
“Hush,” Draco admonished. “You’re going to be fine.” He rose, waved his wand, and clapped his hands.
“Yes, Master Draco?” Lozzie appeared in Hermione’s flat with the chime of an organ’s chord.
“Would you please assemble some of the other elves to clean this,” he gestured with his hands to indicate the messy bedroom and flat beyond, “and with Miss Weasley’s supervision, pack what’s necessary? We’ll need a wardrobe added to our suite at the Manor. “
“No!” Hermione tried to sit up. “I’m not leaving.”
Blaise sat down on the edge of the bed and supported her with an arm.
“You can’t stay here, love,” he said. “You’re not well enough.”
“Yes, Master Draco,” replied Lozzie. “Lozzie is taking care of everything.” She looked dubiously at Hermione’s cluttered apartment. “All the clothes are dirty,”
“Do you have any clothes of Mother’s?” Draco asked. “The Mistress is in a delicate condition.” The elf’s ears perked up and she straightened her tea towel toga.
“There’s things in the large house’s attic,” the elf replied. “They will be fitting the Mistress.” She looked around the room and out into the rest of the flat. “Lozzie is bringing clothes with Zinnie and Furnie, to help.”
“Yes, that’s good, thank you,” replied Draco.
The elf curtsied and disappeared from the flat with another musical note.
“Stop,” Hermione said. “You can’t…”
“Hermione, shush,” replied Draco. “She needs food,” he remarked to Blaise.
“And a bath,” returned the black-haired Wizard. “I remember a remedy mentioned by my sisters. And I believe I can manage some food.”
Draco nodded. He took a look at Hermione’s Muggle tub. Waving his wand, he started water filling the tub. “Come here, love. You’ll feel better after a bath.” He stripped off his dark green, frock coat and rolled up his sleeves. Blaise picked Hermione up and passed her, sputtering, off to the blond. His arms free, Blaise stripped off his black frock coat and rolled up his sleeves to do battle with Hermione’s kitchen.
Lozzie and two other elves appeared with a series of chords and chimes. All three curtsied to Draco and Blaise. Immediately, the two shorter elves started cleaning the bedroom.
“Lozzie found clothes,” Lozzie squeaked, and laid a gown and robe on the bed.
“Miss Weasley here,” Blaise told the two cleaning elves, “will help you with your chores.” He looked at Ginny who had an amused expression on her face. The elves curtsied to Ginny and resumed their cleaning activities.
“Will you two stop it?” Hermione tried to wiggle out of Draco’s hold. “You can’t just come in here and take over!”
Blaise turned to his blond counterpart and the weakly wriggling woman in his arms. He stared down at Hermione, who under the weight of his gaze stopped squirming. “I believe you need a bath, sweet, and then some food. That’s all you need to focus on.” He ran a thumb over her cheek before placing a swift hard kiss on her mouth, stunning Hermione into silence. Blaise straightened and met Draco’s eyes. They smiled at each other. Blaise turned for the kitchen, and Draco carried Hermione into the bathroom.
“Can you stand?” Draco asked.
“Yes,” said Hermione, still struggling to get out of Draco’s arms. He took a cue from her movements and dropped the arm holding her knees to allow her feet to touch the tiled floor.
Hermione attempted to stand, but her knees buckled under a wave of nausea. Her breath shot out of her, and she sagged against Draco’s taller frame.
“Easy,” he said. “Take it slow.” His hands reached around her to undo the buttons on her oversized shirt.
“Stop,” Hermione protested. She plucked at Draco’s hands as they pulled the shirt off her shoulders and down her arms. He continued and made quick work of her knit trousers and camisole. Hermione’s arms crossed over her larger breasts in embarrassment, but Draco wasn’t leering at her. His attention had focused on her belly, which had a barely visible curve showing the four months of her pregnancy.
Hermione froze, half nauseous, half aroused, as Draco’s hands rose to run over the taut, smooth skin. The purple glow returned as their magic merged. Hermione moaned at the overwhelming warmth spreading from the touch of Draco’s hands on her belly and the feel of his lips against her temple.
“Beautiful,” he whispered. Hermione shuddered against him. “But now is not the time for this, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Into the bath with you,” he guided her to the warm water, fragrant with the scent of lavender.
Hermione gagged as her stomach lurched violently. Her knees buckled.
“Easy, love, what is it?” Draco asked. He sank with her to the bathroom floor. “What’s wrong?”
“The lavender,” Hermione whispered. Her body shook with tremors of nausea. “I can’t stand it.”
“Ah, no problem,” replied Draco, a relieved expression on his face. He waved his wand and the aroma disappeared.
Hermione let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. Swallowing against the bile stinging her throat and pulling herself up on Draco’s body, she made her way unsteadily to the bathtub. With a sigh of satisfaction, Hermione sank into the water and dozed, letting the warmth soothe her nerves and aches. She sank lower in the tub and was about submerge her head under the water when a knock at the door startled her back to reality, but she refused to open her eyes.
“Here, Hermione,” Blaise’s voice said. He drew a finger along her shoulder. “Drink this. My sister swore by it when her first never allowed her stomach to settle.”
Hermione opened one eye and peered at the angelic face by the edge of the tub.
“Ginny was quite correct,” Draco mocked. “Miss Granger is neither pleased nor is she in a good mood.”
Hermione scowled.
“Well then,” Blaise drawled, “we’ll have to do something to fix that, won’t we?” He levered the mug over Hermione. “Please try this, Hermione.” His eyes ran over her nude form beneath the water. “You’re even more beautiful than I remembered.” He ran one finger over the line of her shoulder and down between her breasts, creating a tracery of purple that followed his touch.
“I suppose you won’t let me be until I drink the tea, will you?” remarked Hermione. She sat up against the back of the tub. Once upright, she took the mug and took cautious sips under the watchful eyes of her two keepers.
The bite and spice of the peppermint was overlaid with the sweetness of honey. Both flavors hit and fought on her tongue, but in her belly, they evened out and quieted the nausea. For the first time in a long while, Hermione actually wanted to drink and eat something.
Forgetting her minders, she smiled and drank the warm tea and settled back into the bath, her mind and her body at peace.
“My compliments to your sister,” Draco said.
“Why are you two still here?” asked Hermione, peeved that Blaise’s tea had settled her stomach.
“Food next, I think,” remarked Blaise. “Miss Weasley has told me that eggs have stayed down.”
“Do you even know how to cook?” asked Hermione. “Aren’t you at the mercy of the House-Elves?”
“Drink your tea, darling,” replied Blaise. “This time, you’re not leaving before breakfast.” He left the bathroom.
“Have you finished?” asked Draco after a few minutes.
“Yes,” answered Hermione.
Draco knelt down by the tub. Her took her empty mug and set it aside. He took up a flannel and a new bar of soap. “Sit up,” he said. “Let me wash your back.”
Hermione blanked from her mind the fact that Draco Malfoy was bathing her. She allowed herself to briefly forget that she was pregnant with his and Zabini’s child. These thoughts flew from her mind only to return with full force when Draco’s hands ran the flannel and soap over her hard, barely curved belly, and the water glowed with a soft purple light. Hermione shifted fitfully and tried to cringe from his ministrations.
“Easy. It’s okay,” Draco murmured, placing a kiss on her forehead. “You’re fine.”
Easy, he said. She sighed. It was easy, just relinquish control, just for now, and let them deal with all of it. She rose at the press of Draco’s hands; standing at his direction while a fine cotton nightgown was dropped over her head. She allowed a brocade dressing gown to be wrapped around her body. She sat and didn’t feel the comb gently pulled through her hair, neither did she feel the elf hands that showed Draco Malfoy how to braid the thick strands so they wouldn’t tangle while drying.
The need to sleep was overpowering, her eyes closing and her body listing to lean against her escort.
“Just a few minutes more, and you can sleep,” whispered Draco. “You need to eat first.”
“No,” whinged Hermione. “Don wanna.” Lethargy was slurring her speech.
“Are you sure?” asked Blaise. “After all, I cooked. And you missed breakfast last time.” He had come in while Lozzie was showing Draco the finer points of hair braiding. He held out a plate towards Hermione whose stomach grumbled loudly. “I’m certain you can manage a few bites.”
Hermione looked at the plate. “An omelet?” she asked. “With mushrooms?” Her expression was rapturous. “How did you know?” She took the plate and began to wolf down the eggs. “It’s delicious.” She smiled at the two men who grinned back at her. “This does not, however, mean you can come in and take over.”
“Of course not,” replied Blaise. “We’d never do that, would we?”
“Not at all,” agreed Draco. He grabbed Hermione’s empty plate just before she dropped it.
“Sleepy,” she said and squinted at the bed. She rose and made her way to the freshly made bed. “Clean sheets,” she sighed before falling straight to sleep.
+++++
The late morning sunlight finally forced her eyes open. The first things that came into focus were the dark blue drapes hanging from the canopy.
But I don’t have… Oh! They didn’t! She sat up and glared at the room. The last time she’d seen its rich decor; she had been…No, not thinking about it. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stood and grabbed for one of the tall posts, her stomach lurching.
“No! No more morning sickness!” she wailed, as if her will could control her traitorous body. Her stomach, however, refused to listen to her spoken command and heaved again. She stumbled toward a door, which opened before she could grasp the knob.
“You’re awake, good,” said Blaise. “Here love, let me help you.” He caught her up in his arms just as her knees buckled under the influence of her spinning head and stomach. Hermione whimpered and clutched at his shirt. “Back to bed with you,” he said and deposited her back against the pillows. “Draco is coming with your tea and some food.”
Hermione buried her head into the cotton of Blaise’s shirt and started sobbing. In the back of her mind, she was aware of a more rational self tsking over the current person at the mercy of a hormone-wracked body. Dimly, she realized that Blaise had stretched out beside her and wrapped his arms around her shaking form.
“I’m so tired,” she blubbered between hiccoughing sobs. “I just want it to stop.”
“I know, I know,” he murmured, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back. “I know. We’ve called Madame Ellsworth from St. Mungo’s. We’re hoping she can help.”
“She tried,” Hermione wailed, and scrubbed at her face. “She can’t do anything.”
“Zabini! What’d you do to her?” asked Draco. He entered the room with a tray.
“Don’t yell at him!” Hermione sobbed, hiccoughing. “He was trying to help.”
“She can’t help the tears,” Blaise said. Hermione had re-buried her face into his chest and he stroked her hair. An amused smile caused by her defense of him curved his lips.
“Ah,” said Draco, winking at Blaise. He set the tray on a table by the bed. “Com’on Granger, try some tea.”
Hermione turned, sniffling, toward the blond and took the mug he held out for her. She sniffed the barely steaming liquid and inhaled the familiar aroma of peppermint and honey. Her stomach gave one final push before settling down in expectation. She took an experimental sip. The liquid settled warm and calm into her stomach. She drank a few more swigs before looking up. She dragged a hand across her sticky eyes.
“Do I smell food?” she asked.
Draco and Blaise breathed an ensemble sigh of relief.
“Do you think you can eat?” Draco asked.
Hermione nodded while her stomach growled in agreement.
“Give your cup to Draco, sweetheart,” Blaise said. “Let me help you.” He stood and supported Hermione as she clambered off and wobbled around the bed over to the table.
“Oh! Steak and eggs! And mushrooms!” she exclaimed and proceeded to devour her breakfast. Her companions sat to eat their own meals. Hermione sat back with a sigh of happiness. She could finally eat. She was rather surprised by her sudden love of sautéed mushrooms. She’d never been particularly fond of fungi prior to being pregnant, but now she adored them. “Well, gentlemen,” she began. Draco and Blaise looked at her with identical raised eyebrows. “Thank you for your help, but…”
“But?” interrupted Draco. “There’s nothing you need to say or do, except take your bath and relax until Madame Ellsworth comes.”
“Malfoy! Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t stay here,” Hermione said. “I have a job and a flat.”
“Actually, love,” replied Blaise while pouring more tea into Hermione’s cup, “you don’t. We settled your lease and given your condition, you can no longer work with experimental potions.”
Hermione stared at the two men. “You?! You?! What about my furniture? My life? How dare you?! It was only one night!” Hermione stood and started pacing. “You can’t just take over!”
Draco rose from the table and started toward Hermione with an intent look on his face. Blaise flanked her. Hermione saw their expressions and backed away until she hit the wall.
“You two cannot tell me that one night was anything other than…” she squeaked.
“Other than what?” breathed Draco against her temple. One arm snaked around her waist.
“Yes, other than what?” Blaise’s voice rumbled in her ear. His hand rose to her shoulder. His mouth kissed her ear before catching her lobe in his teeth. His hand smoothed over her breast.
Draco’s lips ran light kisses along her cheek before dropping to nibble along her neck.
Hermione felt the tremors start along her body as the two men pressed into her frame. They were hard and warm. Two pairs of hands stroked randomly at her breasts, belly, back and thighs. She heard a throaty moan and was startled to realize that the feral sound came from her own throat.
“You left,” Blaise whispered in her ear.
“Before we,” Draco continued.
“Could see,” Blaise again.
“If this,” Draco kissed her mouth.
“Was more,” Blaise kissed the pulse in her throat.
“Than just one night,” They finished in unison before each laid a kiss on her mouth.
“And now,” Draco continued, but both laid a hand on her slightly curved belly, “this is definitely more than one night.”
“Indeed,” affirmed Blaise. “To the bath with you.” He turned a stunned Hermione toward the door that led to the bathroom.
+++++
“Now then Mister Malfoy and Mister Zabini, whilst I appreciate your regard,” said Madame Ellsworth, after taking a seat and cup of tea, “I am curious as to why you gentlemen need a midwife.”
Draco and Blaise sat on the sofa opposite the medi-witch. They looked at each other before Blaise decided to speak.
“We have asked you here to discuss the health of Miss Hermione Granger,” he said.
The door to the study opened and an elf followed by a very peaked looking Hermione entered the room.
“Masters Blaise and Draco, we’s run out of tea,” the elf said, looking fearful.
“We can’t have that,” replied Blaise. “I’ll take care of it.” He followed the elf out of the study.
Draco got up and led Hermione over to the sofa. “Just a few minutes, love,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”
“Maybe breakfast wasn’t such a good idea,” Hermione whined. She leaned back against the upholstery.
“You see,” said Draco. “She can’t get beyond the morning sickness.”
“Indeed, I do,” replied the midwife. “I’ll need to fire-call for her scroll. I presume, Miss Granger, that you know the date for termination has passed?”
Hermione felt Draco stiffen next to her. Damn, she thought. Why’d the bat have to bring that up?
“Miss Granger?” the midwife prodded.
Hermione nodded and whispered, “Yes,” but refused to open her eyes. She heard the Witch make her fire-call, and then she heard the door open, and a few seconds later, the comforting smell of peppermint and honey wafted into her nostrils. Blindly, she took the mug and sipped. Opening her eyes cautiously, she looked around the room, avoiding both Draco and Blaise.
“Now then,” started Madame Ellsworth. “Since you’re keeping the child, I’ll need to get a more detailed history.”
“Keeping the child?” asked Blaise, too quietly. Hermione cringed.
The Witch ignored the question and proceeded to interrogate Hermione as to her parents, their medical histories, and her own medical history. Then she turned on Blaise and Draco who answered with monotones.
“Now then, which one of you is the father?” the midwife asked.
“We both are,” they replied.
Madame Ellsworth’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed,” she replied. “And how was this ascertained?”
“The Relavatio Identi spell,” replied Blaise, “with a modification from my mother.”
“I’ve never encountered a trio before,” muttered the medi-witch. “May I ask for a verification?”
“Certainly,” Blaise said. He drew his wand from his sleeve and murmured a few words. Then, he and Draco both laid their hands on Hermione’s shoulders. There was no denying it this time. Their blue-tinged magic jumped in recognition of Hermione’s rose tinted aura and mixed in an energetic spiral that turned purple and enveloped the three of them.
“My, my,” breathed Madame Ellsworth, “how beautiful. You’re the first trio in quite a long time. Well then, there are some things you’ll need to know.”
The midwife proceeded to tell them that the baby would be due around Christmas time. Hermione would be very lucky to be able to get through the summer in her early trimesters. She answered Hermione’s questions with sympathy. Yes, Hermione’s magic would grow increasingly unstable as the baby developed, especially since there were three magical lines involved. No, she shouldn’t Apparate under her own power, but joint Apparation was fine. Her magic would calm down after the birth, hence, the reason that most Witches didn’t leave their houses during pregnancy. And she was very sorry, but working with experimental potions was definitely out of the question. She continued to caution all of them that Hermione’s moods would also be unstable and that the gentlemen would have to be very patient with her. She did say, much to Hermione’s blushing chagrin and the men’s grins, that sexual relations were very possible until the last unless Hermione felt uncomfortable. After her lecture about decreasing caffeine, very limited alcohol, and plenty of red meat, fresh fruits and vegetables, Madame Ellsworth took her leave after establishing another appointment for the next month. Just as she was about to Apparate away, the midwife sent Lozzie into the study with a scroll detailing a recipe for a ginger-based potion that a Chinese colleague had discussed at a conference. When combined with Blaise’s tea recipe, it would help settle the morning sickness.
Hermione sat depressed in the quiet of the medi-witch’s departure. Another steaming mug of peppermint tea appeared on the table before her. She sighed, bemoaning a life that had been reduced to mugs of tea and cravings for mushrooms.
“Now then, what’s this about not keeping the child?” asked Blaise.
“Yes, Hermione, that was very distressing news,” Draco confirmed.
Hermione sat quietly looking closely at each of them. She took up her mug and sipped before addressing their identical questions.
“What do you want me to say?” she asked. “I hadn’t honestly thought beyond that night. And when I found out I was…” she shifted uncomfortably, “pregnant, it didn’t occur to me to contact you. Why would it? I went to the nightclub. I propositioned you. I didn’t cast a contraceptive spell. Plus, I figured with all the prior history between us…” Draco and Blaise looked at her in amazement.
“Hermione,” Blaise began, “the war has been over for what? Ten years. Surely we have moved beyond our school-days history. I realize that Potter and Weasley will never grow-up, but I thought we had made peace with you.”
“I suppose,” replied Hermione. “At any rate, when I reached the clinic, I found I couldn’t drink the potion.” Hermione looked away from the Slytherins’ intent gazes. “That’s all there is to tell.” Feeling twitchy under the blue-eyed and grey-eyed regard, Hermione got up from her chair and began to pace the length of the study.
“What I don’t understand,” said Draco, “is why you never contacted us?”
“I told you,” answered Hermione. “It was just one night. That’s all.”
“And now?” asked Blaise.
“I have no idea,” replied Hermione. “Thanks to you, I have no job and no flat.”
“Hermione,” said Draco. “You don’t have to worry about anything. You can stay here. We’ll take care of everything.”
“And after?” asked Hermione.
“After what?” asked Blaise.
“You cannot expect me just to hand over my child,” replied Hermione. She had no idea where this possessiveness had come from, but the thought of just leaving the baby with the two Slytherins did not sit well with her psyche.
“Hand over your child?” Draco echoed. “What are you babbling on about now?”
At his acerbic tone, Hermione felt herself crumple. Her face must have shown impending tears as Blaise quickly rose and embraced the teary Witch.
“Easy, sweetheart, easy,” he murmured into her hair and quickly led her back to the sofa. “You must forgive Draco, lovely, he’s just very concerned about you. After all you have been ill. But what he means to say is that we want you here, now, and after the child is born.” He kissed her gently.
Draco joined them on the sofa. “Blaise is right,” he said, taking hold of her hand to lay a kiss on the palm and the reverse. “We do want you to stay. You’re the mother of our child. Besides, that one night was good, wasn’t it?”
Hermione blushed and ducked her head.
“Ah, look at her beautiful blush, Draco,” cooed Blaise.
“You know, Blaise, I wonder if there’s another cure for her moodiness?” Draco asked. He ran a finger down her cheek to trace a line from her neck to the neckline of her tunic. The finger paused at the valley between her breasts. “Do you think about that night, Hermione? Do you lay awake and remember how I lapped at you and made you moan and shriek?”
Hermione groaned softly. Her chest rose and fell with her panting breaths.
“I think she does,” Blaise whispered. He laid his lips on the throbbing pulse in Hermione’s neck. “Is that what’s been bothering you, lovely? That we haven’t paid enough attention to you?” His hand came up to trace the line of her breast. “Are you missing my hands on your skin?”
Hermione whimpered. Blaise’s hand turned her head and his lips met hers.
The sensations the two men were creating overwhelmed the Witch, and Hermione found herself fighting for control.
“No, no, no,” she cried and wrenched herself off the sofa. “You can’t do this. You cannot waltz into my life and take over.” She returned to pacing and wringing her hands. “I can’t do this.” She waved her hand at the two bewildered men. “I barely know you.”
“Then what do you propose?” asked Draco. He stood and stopped Hermione from pacing. “We do know you.” He kissed her gently. “And we do want you.” He led her back to Blaise. “We apologize for, as you’ve said, taking over, but when we saw you…”
“On the bathroom floor,” Blaise picked up the narrative. “We were so worried. We felt responsible, as we could have cast the contraceptive charm as well, darling.” Blaise took her hand and kissed it. “We were so surprised that night, when you came over and made your wishes so obviously known.” He moved in to embrace her.
“Yes, love,” Draco said, and encircled her waist with her arms. “Imagine our delight. During school and the war, you had always been so unapproachable, so untouchable. Blaise and I spent the war watching you, wanting you, and not able to have you.”
Hermione looked at them in astonishment. She shook her head in denial. “No,” she whispered. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way. It was only supposed to be one night.” Hermione kept shaking her head, on the verge of tears again. “I need...I need…” Blindly she turned away from the two Wizards. “I need to get out of here. Think,” she said, and walked out the French doors onto the patio.
Draco made to go after her, but Blaise caught his arm. “Let her go,” Blaise said. “She needs time.”
“But what if she leaves?” Draco asked, looking worried.
“She won’t,” replied Blaise.
“How do you know?” Draco stared hard at the open doors.
Blaise sighed, half amused and half annoyed. Draco had always been such a possessive git, so used to getting his way that when he didn’t, he still threw tantrums. “She can’t Apparate, as Madame Ellsworth told us. She’ll come back when she’s thought everything through. We’ve overwhelmed her, and she’s used to being in control. You remember how she used to order Weasley and Potter about.”
“True.” Draco’s voice was rueful. “I hate the thought that she might leave and take our child with her.”
“I know, dragon, I know,” replied Blaise. He stood beside Draco and watched the figure of their Witch stroll through the neatly laid out rose garden that fronted the stone patio. “But you know we can’t tie her up.”
“Can’t we?” asked Draco.
Blaise chuckled and turned away. “No, love, but you can tie me up.”
Draco leered at his lover.
+++++
Chapter Two