The Diary
August 18, 2002
Chicago is not what I expected it to be. There is a buttery feeling of newness in a way the Wizarding World does not provide. Theo and I have started our work, we are leaving for Wisconsin next week to study the Hodag – supposedly the magic in its horns will reduce the effects of alcohol and work as a stimulant. The last wizard to drink directly from its horn was unable to sleep for weeks. I can’t imagine what that might do – what kind of research I could get done.
I haven’t felt well in the past few days. Theo thinks I should see a healer. I think its just nerves. For the first time in the last ten years, I am worried about something other than a war and blood status.
The Hodags are slowly dying out. Theo and I are meant to help them come together again and build a new community of creatures. After the Hodag, I believe we will try and study the Pukwudgie. It really depends on what research is needed next.
I shouldn’t be as nervous as I am about being here with Theo. Maybe, if I play my cards right, this could be a beautiful partnership.
August 31, 2002
The Hodag magic made me feel sick to my stomach when ingesting it. I only had the tiniest drop and I was awake for three days. Poor Theo hasn’t slept in weeks. I miss writing letters. The diary is helping some, though, for the most part, it helps with the splintering loneliness in my chest. It makes me feel like I can talk to someone.
Harry doesn’t understand why I left. Ron certainly hates me.
Having Theo here is nice, but it is different from when we were younger. There’s more tension. From him. From me. I have been trying to be as professional as I can and leave those thoughts to the side. I don’t know what Theo wants, anyway. He claims he wants a wife and a family one day, but that he isn’t ready.
Part of the reason I left Ron is that I don’t know what I want. I still don’t.
Tomorrow, we move on to the Pukwudgie.
September 18, 2002
We have returned to Chicago. We spent weeks trudging through forests and small villages in the Midwest, unable to find anything. I haven’t been feeling well these past days. I have been tiring easily. Theo was concerned that something in the Hodag's horn affected me differently than him. I have an appointment tomorrow with a healer.
September 19, 2002
I’m pregnant. Happy birthday to me.
September 20, 2002
I don’t know who the father is.
September 21, 2002
There are two primary suspects. Ron Weasley. Draco Malfoy. The Muggle way of determining paternity pre-birth isn’t available to me for another four weeks, but I would have to ask Malfoy and Ron for samples of DNA.
That really isn’t an option – if Ronald found out I was pregnant, he would just accuse me of cheating on him before we broke up.
I have no idea what Malfoy would do.
Theo thinks I should just let this all go. We stay in Chicago and raise my daughter together. The danger in that is never returning to England again – which wouldn’t be hard for me.
Theo’s mother is still alive and unwell. I would worry what choosing to stay here would mean for my child.
A Weasley baby would damn me one way. A Malfoy baby…well that would damn the child.
Draco shut the diary, gently. Hermione hadn’t been wrong. Every Malfoy born in the last century or so had been damned – to be a dark wizard.
Draco had hoped to break that generational curse one day. He floundered for a moment in his own thoughts.
The letters he sent had obviously not been delivered, not to Hermione, at least. He wondered where they were. He had a guess.
Draco wouldn’t have taken the book if he had realized it was Hermione’s diary. Part of him felt terrible guilt – another part of him felt like he would be able to understand what her pregnancy was like, where her mind had been for the past few years. He would slip it back to her sometime in the next week. Maybe by owl, with a note.
He felt ridiculous. Draco opened the book again, and began to read.