So Lucky

PART FIVE: DEAD FERRETS SOCIETY

I stand by the bed looking down at my family. I suppose that includes Draco. He lies on the far side of the acre of bed. It seems he got as far as kicking off his shoes before crashing. His clothes will get all wrinkled. Boring Muggle clothes. His face is softened by sleep. He looks very like Gabriel, but for the fine lines etched around his eyes. He is lovelier than ever he was as a schoolboy. Even in a careless sprawl of long limbs, he is graceful. When did Ferret-Lad turn into a beautiful man?

Don't go wobbly, Hermione. You might have to kill him.

I look down at my right hand, expecting to see something there. I know how to kill. I've done it before. I remember holding... holding what? Not a weapon, exactly--

Winky is there. In her place, at my right side. She's the weapon. She's my strong right arm. I can't do without her. I have no choice but to trust her. "I take it they didn't hear me." Wailing and sobbing and puking can echo loudly in a confined space. Even in our ridiculously large and luxurious master bathroom. And then, like a frothing madwoman, I'd had a pleasant conversation with my belly.

It would be comforting to think myself mad.

Winky makes a zipping-lip sign over her mouth with all her fingers, then expands the gesture with her arms, and I know what that means: silencing charm. Why do I know that when I've forgotten so much else? Perhaps I know only what I need to. I know I can kill quickly. And I know if Draco manages to put up a fight, Winky will hush it up. That's how much I trust her. My weapon. I feel stronger.

Florence and Gabriel are almost under my belly, tumbled like puppies in a content heap. I feel like a dirigible looming over them. They're so beautiful. Innocent, even.

It wouldn't do for the children to hear me killing their father.

(Wrong. Draco is Florence's brother.)

Winky eases me into a bedside chair as the strength leaves my legs. I feel cold again. Of course; I'm running on fumes. "I'm about to be very hungry," I implore Winky. "Could you get a bit of anything I've been able to stomach lately?"

"Yes, Missy Hermy." Winky is tucking a ruffled shawl around my shoulders. She knew I felt cold. How does she do that? She puts her forehead almost to mine and whispers, a bare breath that just reaches my ears, "Winky will be right back!" Then she disappears. Poof, pop. House-elf magic.

Magic.

Didn't I have magic once?

'Missy Hermy'. Winky's never called me that before. Somehow I know that. It warms me that she called me 'Missy Hermy', rather than 'Missus' or 'Mummy' or 'Lady Malfoy'. Before I held any of those titles, I was Missy Hermy. The innocent schoolgirl. I spare a wry chuckle for the foolish girl I was, so very long ago.

Winky's back. I only have eyes for the table she Apparated back with her, laden with delicacies. But I crave a tomato sandwich. With shaking hands, I squash cherry tomatoes between two fat slices of bread, then set to.

Mother, don't wolf your food.

"Hush," I mumble around a mouthful. "I've been pregnant before." However, much as I hate to admit it, he's right. Don't want it coming back up. I have to force myself to chew before swallowing.

Huh. Winky's eyes flicked towards my belly when Harry spoke. She can hear--

Harry.

That's the spare's name. Harry Malfoy. The angel has spoken. And if Draco doesn't like it, tough.

I take smaller bites and chew carefully. It takes some time for me to put away two sandwiches and almost a whole mug of milk. Only then does my appetite subside. There's nothing like a craving during pregnancy. It's like a stone bruise that comes out of nowhere and takes over your whole being. It makes you ruthless.

I have to laugh. I'm considering killing my husband. I'm already ruthless.

I feel better too, Mother.

That's right, Harry. Remind me of your presence. There's something obscene about a pregnant woman committing murder.

But if I did it right, no jury would convict me. Maybe I could set Draco up. Catch him in the arms of another. Make a big display of my big belly, pleading motherhood, family values, and temporary insanity all the while.

When did I become so Slytherin?

Winky has been standing guard at my side, keeping the bed in view. When she sees I'm done, she pulls up a chair and makes the Silencing Charm gesture again. "Missy Hermy and Winky can talk now."

Yes, we need to talk. First things first. "I need to know if Draco betrayed me to Lucius." Because if he did, he's dead dead dead, and fuck what the jury thinks.

Winky looks downcast, as if she has failed me. "Winky is not knowing. Possible the Young Master--" (her pronunciation capitalizes the title) "--had no hand in your enslavement."

My first thought is Damn! Then I feel relief. I don't have to kill Draco. Then I worry; perhaps it is best to kill him anyway. Winky said maybe he didn't hand me over to Lucius. Maybe he did. Even if he didn't, what'll he do when he finds I've broken free?

Winky has rattled on. With an appropriate apology, I must ask her to repeat the last few sentences. Winky carefully reiterates: "Winky has learned much these seven years. Winky keeps her silence and Missy Hermione's secrets, but still Winky keeps eyes and ears open. Winky-- knows what the evil Old Master did." Her eyes flick towards the bed. (Towards Florence?) "Winky has learned the web of spells used to enslave you." She shudders, but soldiers on, determined to provide some useful information. "Obliviation. The--" Another shudder. She lowers her voice so that I must lean forward to hear her. Difficult in my delicate condition. "The Lesser Unforgivables. Virgin Sacrifice. The Fidelius--"

I hold up a hand to stem the flow of Winkyspeak. Tell me no more! Still, you have to credit Lucius for creativity. He was a swine, but he wasn't stupid. Combining those powerful, subtle magics takes considerable talent.

Good God, If I'd known what Lucius had planned for my hymen, I would have shagged Draco long ere. And Crabbe and Goyle too, to be on the safe side.

Crabbe and Goyle. How could I forget that pair of no-neck Neanderthals? Alleged friends of Draco-- henchmen, more like! At least Draco has better taste in help these days.

No, Winky's mine. My friend. Here all this time, helping me every way she can.

Winky blinks at me with great sorrowful eyes. I pat her shoulder in comfort. "It's all right, Winky. I don't remember most of it." I got off easily. Some torture victims suffer longer than I ever did, and remember every detail.

The worry wrinkles leave Winky's face. But she braces herself to speak above her station: "Missy Hermy must be careful. Missy Hermy must think before she acts. A dead ferret cannot be made into a live ferret."

I remember Harry's still, soft voice: She knew you as a schoolgirl. I must have been a reckless, passionate, impetuous girl. Else Winky would not speak to me so, now that I'm myself again.

Reckless, passionate, impetuous. (Sounds like an Italian porn movie.) That's the sort of fool it would take to love Ferret-Lad.

I did love him.

I did. Don't know if he loved me.

Maybe I love him still.

"It would make things less complicated," I tell Winky, "if I could keep him." As in keep him under control. Do I have to spell it out?

Winky nods. "Winky knows a way." She nods again, more emphatically, and makes the Binding sign with both small hands.

I don't have to spell it out. Good.

"Winky knows. Winky must make plans. Winky is almost missing her A.A. meeting." She looks at me anxiously. "Can Missy Hermy do without me until tomorrow?"

"Yes, Winky dear. I'll be fine." I have to let everything that's happened sink in. "You're right. I must be careful and think. I'll see you tomorrow."

Winky nods, reassured. She leans close to me, almost nose to nose, and whispers, "No ferret-killing!"

"I promise not to kill any ferrets." I struggle not to laugh. That would hurt Winky's feelings. "Go to your group." I take in her snappy clothes. "You look nice."

Winky grins all over her face. Her eyes are happy. I wonder when she last looked that way. She does look nice. "Thank you, Missy Hermy." Impulsively, she hugs me, patting Harry as she does. "Take good care of the babies!"

See you later, Winky. I love you.

"Farewell, Harry! Farewell, Missy Hermy!"

Poof, pop. Winky's gone. I feel a bit lost without her. I cling to her instructions: Don't kill Draco. Take good care of the babies.

Think I can manage that until tomorrow.

I look at the table Winky left behind. Plenty of food left. Nothing will stop Gabriel from attacking it when he awakes.

I think of a simple spell. Something everyday and useful, if a bit Star Trekky. I stand, the better to let the magic flow. (Amateur. A true witch can do spells sitting down, standing on her head, twisted into a pretzel.) Feeling a bit foolish, I gesture at the table: "Stasis!" A force-field-like shimmer appears in its center, no more than Tinkerbell size at first, but quickly growing into a sphere encompassing the table. Well! If I did it right, that will do for breakfast. No big bugs will eat the food, and no little bugs will grow in the food.

I feel sure that I did it right. A smug little smile tugs at my lips. A kind of smile I haven't smiled in years.

A gasp from behind me: "Hermione?"

I nearly jump out of my skin. Whirling, I see Draco towering over me.

I promised-- I promised--

I promised not to kill him.

For now.