The Zabini Estate
Malfoy’s head was spinning.
He had known that there was a blood curse on the Black family line. The construction of the curse was similar to the curse that made it impossible for Malfoy men to father a child if there is an unclaimed bastard. The affect was familial and hit where it hurt.
He knew that typically for the Black family, blood curses were the worst type of venom.
That blood line was toxic.
If a male member of the Black family fell in love with a muggleborn, the muggleborn would suffer the affects of the curse. Seizures, earth-shattering headaches, nose bleeds that would make Voldemort’s bloodshed look like nothing. It was near exsanguination.
He knew it was specific to the men in the family because they would always carry the Black name — but not the women. It was why Andromeda Tonks had been able to escape her life in wizarding London and have a child, who was happy and healthy and safe…for a time.
Draco had no idea how Thaddeus Nott managed to alter a blood curse that was not even part of his familial blood magic. Clearly, it drove his wife mad and it cursed his son to be his worst nightmare: a danger to those he loves, against his will.
Draco knew the motivations now — why Theo might have wanted to keep Willa and Hermione away from him. He thought this was his only chance at a family and to keep his name.
While the wizarding world would have whispered about Willa’s parentage, he would have an heir to the Nott line if he claimed Willa as his own, and perhaps it would have helped legitimize him. Blood curses and ancestral magic, particularly when the magic has been modified, worked in mysterious ways. Maybe if he had legitimized Willa as his daughter, as the Heir to the Nott bloodline, the curse would have broken himself.
There was no real way to tell.
He knew Theo was telling the truth when he said he loved Granger— even if that was painful for Draco to reconcile, he wouldn’t have stepped in the way…except for the fact that it was affecting the health and wellness of the mother of his child.
And perhaps this was why he kept the letters from Granger and after his mother died, his behavior grew more erratic. Theodore knew that if Malfoy had known the truth, he would not have let him anywhere near Granger.
He did understand though. He wouldn’t have let Hermione Granger out of his sight if he had her in his grips.
_____________________________________________________________
Hermione was finally free to leave St. Mungos. She successfully made it through twenty four hours without an episode, no seizures, no headaches — nothing.
Her first stop was by Nott Manor. The manor was empty save for the house elves who informed Hermione that Master Nott had not returned home.
She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do in terms of shelter while they remained in England. Malfoy’s custody was not settled. The ink had not yet dried on the lease for what hopefully soon would become A Witch’s Tale. She wasn’t sure what was happening with Theo and if she even had a place in his life anymore.
She was certain she loved him and she knew that Willa loved him a great deal more than she was capable of showing.
Hermione quickly packed up her things that she brought from Chicago, leaving anything new Theo got for her behind in the wardrobe. She shrunk Willa’s tricycle and toys and packed it all away in a suitcase before asking one of the elves to take it to Grimmauld Place for safekeeping.
Harry offered a spare room for her and her daughter. Hermione couldn’t fathom how Grimmauld Place had any more room — or if she could actually stomach staying with Pansy for that long.
The offer from Ginny and Blaise was unexpected, but probably the best option she had. The Zabini Estate was newly furnished, free of dark curses, and most notably, was not Malfoy or Theo’s home.
She didn’t want it to seem to Theo like she was moving out and on with her life. She — and Willa — probably wouldn’t even still be on this plane of existence had it not been for Theo’s support during those early months of her pregnancy. The abrasive nature of magical pregnancy was not for the weak of mind or body.
Hermione had been both, then.
She was confused.
Theo was her boyfriend. No. Theo is her boyfriend.
Whatever might have happened…they have not broken up.
But also, was he the cause of her seizures? Malfoy seemed to think so. There wasn’t a whole lot of evidence pointing to anything else.
So, Hermione packed her things and off they went to the Zabini Estate.
The mansion was huge — and that was putting it lightly. From what Hermione could see, the pale yellow stucco and the cream mouldings came together in arches and columns that reminded her of a vintage wedding cake. The asymmetrical massing of the space reminded her of the Burrow — as if it was laid on its side and sprawled out over the ground. There was one tall tower in the western corner of the house. Her eyes followed the smooth lines of projecting eaves held up in large bracketing shapes surrounding the windows and terraces.
It was not dark — not the way she expected the manor of a pureblood to be. Afterall, it looked like a bloody wedding cake.
With a pop, a house elf appeared. Hermione eyed the little thing, dressed in a purple sequined dress and a bright blue feather boa. Most house elves were hairless, but this one, wore what she assumed was a short blonde wig and sunglasses in the shape of hearts.
Merlin’s beard, Hermione thought. “Hello,” she said, crouching down. “I am Hermione Granger, Ginny Zabini invited me to come and stay here.”
The house elf nodded, holding her wig in place. Hermione was sure there was a temporary sticking charm that she could help with. “May I?” Hermione gestured to the elf.
“Yes,” She squeaked, “please, Madam Granger.”
Hermione smiled softly at the elf, casting a quick spell and replacing the wig on her head. She conjured a mirror. “I am not sure how to replicate this with house elf magic,” Hermione admitted, “but I am sure if you speak to some of the other elves, they might have a solution for you.”
The little elf let out a harumph before correcting herself. “Twinkle is most grateful for your assistance, Madam Granger. As for Twinkle’s sisters…Twinkle’s sisters think she is foolish for wanting to dress like the Mistress.”
Hermione nodded solemnly.
“But Twinkle thinks that the Mistress is so kind, so true. Not much like the elder Mistress Zabini—,” Twinkle closed her mouth with an audible gasp. Her tiny hands came to her face, covering her mouth. Her nails were painted a vibrant tangerine color. “Twinkle shall not speak unkindly of the mistress, past or future. Follow me, Madam Granger.”
Hermione took Twinkle’s outstretched hand and felt her stomach heave into her chest as they were apparated into the manor. With the thud of her boots against the ground, Hermione oriented herself as quickly as she could.
It looked like a dressing room of sorts. The walls were lined in silk wall coverings and the patterns of the room were overwhelming. There was so much to look at that she hardly noticed Ginny sitting at the vanity table with little jars of captured light floating in a circle around the mirror.
Little pinch pots of glitter and rouge were open on the vanity. Tubes and vials of other assorted beauty products were all over the empty countertops. When Hermione finally was able to look away from the glamorous mess, she
Soft carpet met the soles of Hermione’s boots, she looked down to meet the rug that might as well have been the pelt of a giant white wolf.
“Hiya, Herms.” Ginny said, some contraption near her eyes that Hermione had never seen before.
Hermione was a Muggleborn — she had certainly seen an eyelash curler before — but it was very different from whatever Ginny was doing to her face.
“Hi, Gin.” She smiled, “Thanks for agreeing to let us stay.”
“Of course,” Ginny replied, putting the contraption down on the table. “Want to take a tour before we go pick Willa up from the Potters?”
Hermione agreed.
Stepping out of what Hermione assumed was Ginny’s powder room, Ginny showed her to the dining room, the kitchens, the rooms where she and Willa would stay, and finally, the gardens.
The home was warm with earth tones inside, the walls stone and the floors covered in neutral rugs and beige furniture. The occasional pop of color would be in some form of strange artwork on the wall or Italian handmade glass pulled in an assortment of colors.
Hermione was surprised to find that Ginny’s powder room was the most chaotic and colorful space on the Estate. The rest of the house felt dripped in vintage, earthy elegance.
“Shall we?” Ginny asked, taking Hermione’s hand for side-along. “I will have Blaise key you into the wards when he gets home.”
“Where is he today?”
“Off helping Pansy with some project for the vow renewal. She insisted on designing the clothes. We should probably get you into her shop soon, assuming you will come?”
Something sharp flickered in Ginny’s eyes for a moment, steeling herself.
Hermione deflated for a moment before smiling softly. “Assuming Malfoy has no qualms about Willa and I travelling, we are more than happy to come.”
Assuming Willa was allowed to come… Shit. Had she just invited her daughter to something that children aren’t invited to—
“Brilliant,” Ginny flashed a dazzling smile at her. “Malfoy shouldn’t have a problem, considering he is coming, too.”
“When is it?”
“Next month,” Ginny replied. “I should feel more stressed, but considering the fact that this is a much smaller group than our wedding was, I care a lot less about everything being perfect.”
Hermione nodded, though, it was lost as the familiar tug behind her navel pulled them forward. Side-along apparation was one of her least favorite ways to travel — second only to international portkey.
Ginny dropped them on the outside steps to Grimmauld Place. She looked at Hermione for a moment, “Let’s go say hello to my ex-husband.”
Hermione swallowed a snort. “Only you could make being divorced sound so chic.”
Ginny let out a belting laugh, “Finally, you get it.” They shared another smile and Hermione felt herself returning a little more to herself each day. Maybe being in London permanently wouldn’t be such a bad thing.