With you in my Arms

77. The strongest magic known to mankind: love

This Tuesday would have easily qualified for the worst Monday in wizarding history. The latest summoning from Kingsley Shaklebolt hadn't been a good omen to start with, but what had actually transpired in his office had stunned them.

Hermione was too shocked to say anything and her dearest seemed to be just the same as he was very quietly taking his coat off, nearly dropping it onto Turo instead of handing it to the house elf.

They went into the living room and sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts. While Draco had his eyes closed his witch was looking intensely at the fire place.

Why did Lucius Malfoy hate his son so much that he took everything from him? Where was Narcissa supposed to be living, if the Manor was auctioned off? What about the family portraits and heirlooms? And the library? The sheer malice in this one action of making sure Draco was left penny and homeless was simple incomprehensible. Hermione didn't envy Kingsley, a wizard she had been acquainted with for all this time now. She wouldn't have liked to have to give these kinds of news to people either.

Her thoughts were wondering to her mother-in-law. Where was she going to live now? It was possible that the auror she had been staying with, James Mulligan, might want to make the arrangement permanent and have her stay with him, but would she want that as well? Her fondness for the tall and rather quiet man had been obvious at the wedding. For a moment she was wondering, if he had been a Ravenclaw. The way he behaved strangely reminded her of Luna Lovegood for some reason. But the stern woman that had lied to Voldemort in order to get information about her son looked happy when he was around. Her face turned soft when she spoke to the auror.

She sighed. Neither Narcissa nor her sonn or Hermione would be homeless regardless of what that monster in Azkaban had intended. She and her husband would stay in Edinburgh and bring up their son here.

She frowned. As Draco was a marked man, there was no real reason to go and give his father the satisfaction of seeing his grandson, was there? Something was niggling at her mind. There was something important she knew without realising it. But what?

She tried to think of all the things she knew about the Manor, but it wasn't very much and nothing that could help the wizard she loved. Sighing she looked at him. His eyes were still closed and his brows were furrowed. He was thinking about something. What was it though?

Her mind wandered. Images of her time at school rose before her inner eyes. She saw Draco with that cocky smirk at the beginning of their third year. He had been swaggering in a way that had even her watching, when she knew he wouldn't notice. They had been children then. It had been a game, but all too soon everything had turned into a deadly scenario where the loss of life was not only a hypothetical possibility. Over time his cockiness had waned, being replaced by a seriousness that had also touched her life. She never knew what his existence was like, he had been the enemy. She knew now and it pained her to think that the cruelty of his own father was haunting him to the last.

Her hands had found their way to his, touching them lightly. He didn't seem to even notice. After a while Draco slowly turned to look at his wife.

"Something doesn't add up."

"What do you mean?"

"My father would never, I mean never ever, let the line of our family die in this way. There is something we either don't know or we are not being told."

She tried to follow his reasoning, but found that she couldn't, not really.

"Your father has laid down in his will that you can't have the Dark Mark in order to inherit. We know as well as he does, that you have it. Therefore he's taking everything you would have been able to claim as the rightful heir to the Malfoy name, but he can't take the name from you as well. Therefore the line of Malfoy is not going to end." she smiled, "On the contrary, our son will be the first of the next generation."

He took a deep breath.

"I know I'll still be called Malfoy, but I might as well be called Smith. The magic that goes with the name, the Manor, the long list of forefathers it will be lost forever, if I'm not able to claim my inheritance. Father would never risk loosing the essence of himself just to spite me. You might be a Muggleborn, but you're also a witch, the brightest witch of our age no less. He would not risk not having your potential in our line now that you have married me and are bearing my child."

"But I am a Muggleborn."

"Yes, Lea, you're a Muggleborn, but you're also the smartest witch alive who just so happens to be a Muggleborn. Father can be rather pragmatic, if he wants to."

Soft kisses were feathered over her palms.

"The powerful magic you have within you might enable our son to rise above all his contemporaries. He might be able to do things, cast spells that nobody has been able to do and control for centuries. Pureblood families with a history as long as the Malfoy family are seldom and far between. When we... breed with somebody as knowledgeable and skilled as you're, my dearest witch, Merlin only knows what our children might be able to do."

His smouldering gaze rippled through her, setting her skin on fire.

"When male and female magic is combined something new comes into being. Something more powerful and..." His fingers rubbed over the back of her hands. He wanted her to know, to feel what he meant, but how?

"Let me show you... I need you to understand." he said in a low voice.

Hermione looked at him with a surprised expression. She was quite sure she understood what he meant, but as she was now having her gaze captured by the deep silver of his eyes the room slowly started to fade into the background.

He pulled her into his arms. Though this embrace was different from all they had shared before. He cradled her more than that he held her.

"Close your eyes." he whispered.

She did, feeling goosebumps all over her body.

"Deep within you is the flow that feeds your magic. Like a stream of purest water it runs through the core of your being. You can feel it pulsate with every heartbeat."

His words seemed to spirit her away in a strange, but also familiar way. She knew what he was talking about. She had been able to feel this part of her being for as long as she could remember. Soft fingers were tapping a rhythm in sync with her heartbeat on her lower back. After a moment Hermione realised that her fingers were doing the same at the base of his neck. His scent seemed so much stronger than usual. Was that because she was pregnant? It didn't really matter though as she just let it make her dizzy and allowed herself to loose another bit of reality.

As his lips gently touched hers something engulfed her body and soul. Warmth spread through every fibre of her. Magic was flowing around her, through her and at the core of the bright river she felt there was Draco.

His breath was her breath. Her heartbeat was his heartbeat. They were one, inseparable one. Bound by the strongest magic known to mankind: love.

Neither if them knew how much time had passed when his lips finally left her mouth and found a slow path to the side of her neck. Leaning her head away from his she allowed herself to drown in his soft touches. No other wizard had known to work his magic on her just like this. A tender touch was enough to make her want to follow him wherever it was he was leading her.

His sigh had her look into his storm cloud coloured eyes again. There was something within his gaze, something that told her his thoughts had returned to the topic of conversation from before he had utterly enchanted her.

"Do you know now, why my father would never let our line die out?" he asked with a gentle smile.

His witch nodded.

"This is so powerful that it would take centuries to re-create once it's lost. He'd never risk it. No, there is something... someone..." his voice trailed off.

With impeccable timing Turo chose this precise moment to make his presence known. Draco was wondering for a moment, if it would be worth it to groan, but decided against it. Obviously he needed to get his witch some place where they were completely alone, if he wanted to steal a few intimate moments with her.

"What is it, Turo?" Hermione asked.

"Master's been send a letter."

Draco sighed after all.

"Whom is it from?"

"Mistress Narcissa."

"My mother?"

He took the piece of parchment from the house elf and opened it, wondering why his mother was writing.

"Seems we've been invited for tea. She writes that there's something important she's got to tell us."

"When exactly does she expect us?" there was something rather... suggestive in her voice.

"At five."

"Good. That leaves enough time for me to..." her mouth was on his before he could voice any objections to whatever she might have in mind.