Hello! It's been a while, and I thank you for being so patient. I am still in the process of updating the chapters, but I am also back to writing. Updates aren't guaranteed to be on a schedule, but this story is no longer on hold.

(Like every other chapter: I don't own Harry Potter. Don't sue me.) Enjoy!

St. Mungo's

"What does it take to get some god damned rest around here," Draco groaned as the gasps pulled him out of his slumber. He was having a particularly good dream about a bushy-haired brunette, and he wasn't happy to leave her. He moved to sit up, but a foreign weight on his right arm prevented his movement. He finally opened his eyes to see Hermione's hand wrapped around his own, her hair wild like a bush, and her mouth open in a tiny "o" as she lightly snored. He thought she looked adorable, but the nurses that were gaping at their joined hand were taking away from his admiration. He knew that Hermione wouldn't want a big to do, so he delicately removed his hand from hers. "Can I help you?" he lazily asked the healers.

The one nearest the front with strawberry blonde hair stepped forward, and began chattering while checking his vitals. "You took quite a hit yesterday, and we wanted to make sure your leg was healing nicely."

"How is Rosalinda and Laura?" Hermione asked groggily as she sat up and wiped her eyes. She did not like waking up to an audience, and she hoped she hadn't done anything embarrassing in her sleep.

A few of the healers left now that the entertainment was over, but the two that remained quietly went about their duties while attempting to avoid the eyes of either of their patients. Seeing that no one would answer her, Hermione shooed off the nurse that was poking at her hand and stood up much to the protests of the healers. Hermione ignored their cries and turned to Draco. "I'll be back with news," she promised. When he nodded solemnly, she walked out the doors and navigated first to the child's ward.

Coming up to the colorful reception area, Hermione calmly asked the young girl if she could check on Rosalinda.

"Are you her mother?" the receptionist asked warily.

Hermione's eyes were steel. "My name is Hermione Granger, and I am her legal guardian." She hated throwing around her name, but Rosalinda was worth the disgusting apologies the girl started gushing upon realizing she was dealing with a war hero. Within the minute, she found herself in Rosalinda's room with a healer at her side explaining the child's condition.

"She has sustained a lot of injuries. She hasn't been awake more than an hour. The blood loss was hard on her. We gave her blood replenishing potion and healed her wounds. She shouldn't have any scars, but we would like to keep her here for two more days to make sure there isn't anything we missed," Cho explained. Her brow was furrowed with concern for the small girl resting in the bed.

"Thank you," Hermione replied, bending down to lovingly stroke Rosalinda's- thankfully still brown- hair. She made a note to reapply the glamour before she left. The little the public new about Rose, the better. "How is Laura?" she asked quietly so not to disturb Rose.

Cho hesitated but ended up replying somberly, "I specialize in children, but I've talked to Laura's healer, and it seems that they need to monitor her for a week. There a chance she will never get her mind back. It will depend on how strong she is and how powerful the torture."

Hermione sighed. Nothing ever had a perfectly happy ending. "Thank you, Cho. You've done wonders. I'm so thankful."

Cho seemed to debate her reply in her head before carefully asking, "Can you tell me why she was hurt so badly?"

Hermione slightly frowned as she meticulously worded her reply to ensure Rosalinda's protection while giving Cho the answer she needed to hear. "She was born to a muggleborn and a pureblood and very well hidden until today. Lucius took her existence as a personal offense to pureblood lineage and tried to kill her," she admitted.

"Merlin," Cho whispered.

"I would appreciate it greatly if her existence was kept quite until it's publicly announced," Hermione said, a sliver of a threat lacing her tone.

"Of course," Cho said indignantly. "Healers strictly maintain patient-healer confidentiality."

"Thank you," Hermione murmured as she ran her fingers through Rosalinda's hair one last time. She quickly reapplied the glamour charms, then straightened her posture and headed towards the door- intent on seeing Laura, but before she made it passed the threshold, she turned back one last time to look at her sleeping angel. Rosalinda was pale, her glamoured brown hair was fanned around her head in a halo, and her tiny frame curled around a snatch of blankets she wrapped onto. Hermione worried deeply about her safety- she felt like she failed her- and in the back of her mind, she had begun to meticulously go over every interaction she had since she got Rose to find the place where she messed up. Hermione felt personally responsible for the pain Rose went through and vowed to protect the little girl- no matter the consequence- until her last breath. Finally walking away from her goddaughter, she made her way to the Spell Damage ward.

Unlike Rosalinda's room, Laura's was relatively easy to find as there were a dozen healers bustling in an out whispering in harsh notes to each other. Ignoring the affronted look on the receptionist's face and her angry huff, Hermione walked straight into Laura's room to see the woman. Laura's dirty brown hair had lost its shine. Her eyes were closed, but the bags underneath were deep violet and her eye sockets appeared sunken in. Her tanned frame seemed a bit greyish and fragile against the sterile white blankets heaped upon her.

Hermione lightly grabbed the arm of the nearest healer and asked, "How is she doing? What is her outlook?"

The healer was a pudgy, pasty, partially balding man. He was hardly taller than Hermione, and he appraised her with beady black eyes reminiscent of the late Peter Pettigrew. "Are you family?" he asked warily.

Hermione gave him a hard, no-nonsense glare. "For all intensive purposes, yes."

The healer glared at her heatedly, but spat out, "She is currently in a coma. If she is not out of the coma by the end of the week, there is no hope for recovery."

"What are her chances?" Hermione demanded.

Sneering, the man replied, "That information is for family only."

Hermione was currently in the middle of a bitch of a day, and his snide tone set off a spark of rage inside her that had been building up for weeks. "You listen here," she growled, pulling his arm forward and alerting the nurses nearby who stood along the walls watching cautiously. "This woman is my charge, and if you think that you can deny me access to her medical supervision, you are sorely mistaken."

They had a stare-down for a solid minute before the man relented and grumbled, "She only had a couple of minutes of torture, so assuming that the curse was not extremely powerful, she has a decent chance of recovery."

Hermione let out a relieved breath and released the man's thick arm. "Thank you," she replied sincerely only to have the man snort and stomp out of the room. Looking up from his former place, Hermione was greeted by a room full of healers staring at her with a mixture of awe and amusement. It seemed the man she cornered wasn't the most loved healer in St. Mungo's. Ignoring the eyes on her, Hermione made her way over to Laura's bed.

Taking the woman's lifeless hand, Hermione spoke in a low voice. "I'm sorry this happened, but your daughter needs you. You need to fight your way out of this. I have been in your position before, and you just have to battle your way out of your own mind- knowing that others rely on you." She paused from her impassioned monologue, realizing that she probably looked like a crazy person talking to a comatose patient. Before leaving, she whispered one last word of encouragement, "If you wake up, you can finally punch Draco."

With that, she went back to Draco to ease his worries before heading off to the Ministry again.

(forward)

"How did you hear about the little girl you kidnapped?" Hermione questioned Lucius again through clenched teeth.

Lucius was briefly healed at St. Mungo's, then brought to the Ministry where Hermione Granger was currently questioning him at wand point. He was lounging arrogantly on the bench in his cell and berating her at every chance.

"I'm not speaking without my attorney. Especially not to a filthy mudblood," he sneered.

Hermione's self control was waning, and he morals were degrading. "Well, I have your wife in a cell, and her wand was used to cast an unforgivable on a auror- which she gave willingly. I could always throw her in Azkaban. I wonder how long she would last," Hermione began to ponder.

"You wouldn't dare!" Lucius growled.

Hermione pretended to be completely nonchalant about the ordeal. "Oh I would. Why should I care about the well being of a woman who had only been nasty to me?"

"You should be grateful that she allowed you into our home, you ungrateful mudblood!"

Hermione glared at Lucius and replied, "I see your vocabulary of insults is rather limited."

Lucius gave her a venomous glare, but made no move to speak, so Hermione pushed further.

"I think she would last two months. Maybe three if I don't accidentally put her in the same cell as one of the Death Eaters you all betrayed."

Lucius roared. Every insult he knew spewing out of his mouth, but Hermione ignored him and merely walked away. She pondered some thoughts out loud as she reached the door. "I should check on Narcissa's cell. I might have forgotten to keep the dementor supervised."

The door clicked shut, and Lucius' ravings almost broke the silencing ward placed around the interrogation room. Harry was waiting on the other side of the door with a grin on his face. "He's all yours," Hermione winked and sauntered toward Narcissa's cell. She heard Harry chuckle at her exit and called down the hall, "Thanks!"

Narcissa was much less pompous than her husband; she still, however, glowered at Hermione upon her entrance. Her hair was falling out of its tight bun, her clothes were wrinkled, and her mascara had run at the edges of her enraged eyes.

Unlike the interrogation of Lucius, Hermione sat down across from Narcissa quietly and approached her in a caring tone. "Mrs. Malfoy, you are in a unique position," Hermione began delicately. "Your husband has preformed an unforgivable on an auror which warrants time in Azkaban. He did so with your wand, which makes you an accomplice."

Narcissa's bright blue eyes were wide, and her pale frame was ghostly white. She managed to keep enough composure to imperiously demand her release. "I have done nothing wrong, and I am being unfairly detained by being kept away from my husband and my son."

Hermione's eyes softened a fraction. "Draco is currently in St. Mungo's with a healing hip wound, but he should recover nicely."

Lady Malfoy relaxed almost imperceptibly, but kept her mouth in a tight line and her steely gaze fixed on Hermione.

"I would like your help, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione admitted despite her growing distain for the woman in front of her. "I care a great deal for the little girl your husband attempted to murder."

A wicked look glinted from Narcissa's eyes. A very Slytherin smirk. "I suppose you want me to talk to my husband and convince him that when he inevitably gets out of prison that he should avoid your child," she drawled- believing she had a upper hand over the war hero.

Hermione smirked. She had Narcissa just where she wanted her. She would never tell a soul that the sorting hat had briefly considered her for Slytherin as well. "I want you to convince your husband to avoid your granddaughter."

Narcissa's haughty disposition melted away as Hermione's words trickled into her understanding. There was clearly a war happening behind Mrs. Malfoy's vigilantly neutral face. She had to decide whether blood status won over family, and Hermione took a big gamble on family winning. Narcissa's eyes spoke of understanding -most likely gripping why her husband was still a threat despite an attempted murder- and suspicion. "Am I to presume that the filth laid on my family is half yours?" Narcissa quipped, but her tone didn't hold as much venom as it normally would.

Another card Hermione had up her sleeve was Draco's innocence. "No. She is my goddaughter, but her biological mother is not British."

"What would my son be doing with some harlot from another country?" Narcissa hissed.

"He was imperiused by his good friends was back in sixth year. He had to hide the baby away with the mother because of you and your husband." Hermione prayed that Draco wouldn't flay her alive for betraying his promise to not tell anyone the truth. She figured his mother would figure out as soon as she saw her husband again anyways.

Narcissa sat back in her chair with a bewildered expression. She felt betrayed that her own son would keep her granddaughter away because he feared his parents. It hurt her, but she knew that what happened that day would only have been worse six years ago. She certainly hated the very thought of a stain on their perfectly pure family, but she couldn't quite get passed the thought of a granddaughter. She had wanted a little baby for years, and suddenly Draco's behaviour fell into place. He didn't want Astoria, because she would not have accepted his daughter. Her little Draco had a daughter, and he had done everything to protect her from his mother. "What's her name?" Narcissa whispered.

"Rosalinda Vela."

Narcissa let out a tiny, uncharacteristic whimper. Despite the mudblood woman keeping the child, Draco still convinced her to follow the Black naming tradition. The sentiment was not lost in her. "Where is she now?" Narcissa asked, still deep in thought.

Hermione stiffened. "I am afraid I cannot tell you that," Hermione replied warily eyeing Narcissa.

Mrs. Malfoy's head hung at her reply. She was at a loss of what to do. Her values were battling each other. On one hand, she knew that the mudbloods were a threat to magical society. She cringed at the thought of having a grandchild that was anything less than pure of blood. However, on the other hand, her family was her everything, and she knew that by ridding her family of its stain, she would push away her precious Draco- just as her family had once done to her beloved sister. Perhaps they could reach a good middle ground. If Granger was willing to keep the kid and keep Draco's secret, maybe Draco could find a pureblood wife and occasionally visit the kid.

"I'll see what I can do," Narcissa relented at last.

Hermione slowly nodded her head while closely examining the woman in front of her. She didn't trust for a second that this woman wouldn't change her mind when the opportune time came. "I want a Vow," Hermione demanded, and mentally added: and I'll obliviate you if you don't agree.

Narcissa's eyes shot towards hers. They were filled with bitterness, but with enough deliberation, Narcissa stood and said, "I will pre-approve the wording. If it seems too risky, I will not participate."

Hermione had to see the logic in Mrs. Malfoy's proposal. "I will have you Vow that you will do everything in your power to prevent any physical harm to Rosalinda by your husband or a person that he imperiuses or hires. Does that sound reasonable?"

Narcissa looked Hermione over through narrow slits while meticulously scanning through the wording. "It appears so. Who will oversee the Vow?" Mrs. Malfoy asked snobbishly.

"The Minister," Kingsley announced as he opened the door to the interrogation room. He had been watching Hermione's progress with the Lady Malfoy and decided to make a theatrical entrance. It was amazing in itself that Hermione managed to get Narcissa Malfoy to show some semblance of care for her illegitimate granddaughter, but it was truly mind-blowing that the older woman was willing to take an Unbreakable Vow.

Narcissa seemed vaguely impressed the Hermione had managed to get the Minister to oversee the Vow, but didn't say a word until Kingsley had their hands locked and asked if they were ready. "Yes."

(forward)

"Dinky!" Hermione called upon apparating to the gates of Malfoy Manor. She knew she had favor with the eccentric house elf, and she needed his willingness to serve.

"Yes, Mistress Hermione?" the little elf greeted upon his sudden appearance before her.

Hermione gave the elf a bright smile. "I was wondering if any mail came for Draco and I. There should be a lot of journals coming in, and we need to continue our research," she carefully explained.

Dinky's large eyes gazed up at her with annoyance. "Master Draco and Mistress Hermione should be resting. They be most injured."

Hermione gave the elf another smile. "My hand is fixed, and Draco is getting bored just laying all day," Hermione assured.

Dinky's defenses crumbled under Hermione's sunny disposition. He popped away, but was back within seconds with a bundle of brown paper wrapped packages. Before he handed the bundle to Hermione, he demanded, "Mistress must promise Dinky that she will make sure Master Draco does not hurt himself."

Hermione let out a giggle at Dinky's pressing tone. "We both knew that there is no stopping him if he wants something.".

Dinky cracked a smile and handed over the bundle of journals. "Mistress Hermione is best for Master."

"Thank you, Dinky. I will bring Draco back as fast as I can," Hermione vowed.

Dinky grinned and popped away, presumably to do more chores in the Manor. Hermione took a deep breath, knowing that the coming days would be trying, then apparated to St. Mungo's.

(forward)

"Look here!" Hermione squealed, shoving a journal into Draco's face. Draco was still confined to a bed, so Hermione pulled her influence, and Draco pulled his money to get them into a private room with Rosalinda and Laura. Luckily, the Malfoy family had paid for an entire ward of St. Mungo's, so they had a room for the family. While the room was meticulously sanitized, it was crowded with three beds and Hermione's chair. The room was a beautiful pastel green with dark wood floors and sheer curtains. The chair Hermione had set up camp in was gloriously soft, yet supportive, and there were a few paintings of sunny meadows on the walls to bring cheer. Laura was at the far end of the room, closest to the door, as she needed the most medical assistance and room. Rosalinda was placed inbetween her two parents and was deep in a potion-induced sleep. Draco was furthest from the door as he only needed monitoring for the next two days to make sure his walking would be fine. Hermione was in the corner talking in hushed whispers with Draco over their piles of journals.

Draco was rightfully annoyed at the bushy haired brunette sitting beside him. While he was growing to care for her more and more each day, she still held the ability to push all the same buttons she did in school. "Dammit Granger! Get that away from my face! Just tell me what it bloody says!" he whispered harshly.

Hermione huffed, but reported her findings. "On the Third of May, a member of the Black family sealed the laws. It seems that Mrs. Aubrey Nott was miffed that her family was not chosen for such an honour."

Hope soared in Draco's chest until reality set in. "Shit. Which Black? They've intermarried the most, and you never know which of their crazy spawn kept the heirlooms."

Hermione's browns furrowed. "Look in the Black journals that Harry sent and see what they say about heirlooms from that era. Then, we can go back to Harry's place and look for more journals that may talk about inheritances of children and family trees. You never know if you have it."

Draco fell back into his bed grunting in frustration and a bit of pain. "Why is there never a clear answer? Why can't the bloody journal just say 'it's a trashy emerald brooch of a peacock'?"

Hermione let out a trill of giggles that filled the room with a delightful air despite the tragedy surrounding them. "Knowing the Black family, it would be some sacred dagger formed by the blood of their house elves."

Draco's eyes were closed as he relaxed on his bed, but his lips were curved up in a wide smile. "I bet it still looked ridiculously gaudy," he mumbled.

Looking at the time, Hermione saw that it was already two in the morning. She gave the clock a wane smile and turned back to a sleepy Draco Malfoy. "Go to sleep," she whispered and reached up to stroke his hair. She had always wondered if it was as silky as it looked. A deep rumble came from his chest as he nuzzled his head into her hand. His hair was not as silky as it looked- it was actually quite thick with just enough softness. She ran her fingers through his hair and watched as he slowly fell asleep in front of her eyes. His stressed, wrinkled brow relaxed and his lower lip puckered out, and he looked like a cherub. Hermione thought that if they ever got through the drama chasing after them, she would want to see that face every night before she fell asleep.

Once she knew he was in a deep sleep, she moved over to Rose's bed. Her little goddaughter was beautiful. She never wanted to lose her. Hermione didn't know how long she stood there, memorizing the little girl's pouty sleeping face, but just as the stress of the day began to settle into a form of deep drowsiness, a person walked into the room. Hermione resisted the all encompassing urge to whip out her wand and fire a quick stupefy at the intruder, and upon turning to see the guest, she wished she hadn't.

"Hermione Granger," the woman drawled in a nasally tone. "It seems you always leave along a string of lovers."

Rita Skeeter.

She was wearing a sickeningly tight, green sheath dress that contrasted horribly with her purple fur lined coat and bright maroon, pointed heels that clicked on the floor like nails on a chalkboard. Her devious smile held a lifetime of shamelessness and wicked dealings. Her face was a bit more wrinkled and her hair had a few grey strands popping out of her elaborate up-do, but otherwise she was the same scum that Hermione felt no remorse capturing.

"I'm sure the daily prophet would love to hear that our little Golden Girl moved on so quickly from her fiancé. And a Death Eater! Oh, I'm sure they would practically drool when they find out you've been caring for his bastard child as well. Tell me, how long has this little affair been going on?" Rita hissed, slithering closer with her quick-quotes-quill following behind her like a loyal dog.

In a flash, Hermione had her wand under the horrid woman's chin. She spoke quietly and deathly calm. "If I hear one story in the paper about myself, Draco, or Rosalinda, you will never see another newspaper again. Do you understand?" Hermione's eyes were flashing amber and her teeth were bared like a lioness protecting her cubs.

Rita only gave Hermione a revoltingly saccharine sneer. "Are you threatening me, little girl?" Rita snapped.

Hermione snapped. With a wave of her wand, a glass jar appeared in her hand, and one silent flick later, and a little beetle took Rita's place. Hermione wasted no time collecting and sealing the animagus in the jar. She cast an impenetrable charm on the jar and poked tiny air holes in the lid. All the while, she grinned evilly at the little bug that was scuttling up the sides of the jar in panic. "Don't ever threaten my family, you bitch," Hermione growled at the little beetle.

"What the hell was that?" another voice came from the room.

Hermione turned, automatically moving the jar behind her back, and saw Draco sitting up in his bed looking at her with a mix of awe and fear. Seeing that she was in good company, she set the jar on his bedside table and explained her history with Rita Skeeter.

(a dramatic story later)

"I'm not sure if I find your evil side attractive or terrifying," Draco admitted with a goofy grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but a blush crept up her tanned neck. "We need to sleep," she ordered, then set herself out to clean up the room. She put Rita's jar in a far corner of her extended purse, organized all of the bags of personal possessions by person, and fixed the flowers decorating Rosalinda's bedside.

"You need to sleep to," Draco said simply, pulling her away from her distractions.

"I will," she said, turning away from him and searching for something else to tidy.

"Come here," Draco commanded in a low, soft voice that she couldn't help but to follow.

When Hermione was within arms reach, he grabbed her hand and squeezed. "I want you to go home and sleep. Take the journals with you. We will all still be here in a few hours," he said. Blue bags had settled under his eyes, and he looked as if keeping his lids open was a monumental task. Hermione felt horrible that she was the reason he was so drained, but she couldn't stand the thought of leaving them. So, instead of curling up in her plush bed at home, she folded herself into the chair next to Draco's bed and rested her head on the side of his mattress like a pillow.

Draco let out an exasperated sigh at her stubbornness, but turned so that he was facing her relaxed form. He was constantly amazed by the level of caring she was able to have. It was like an endless well of love, and he knew that he wasn't deserving of any of it, but he just couldn't pull himself to push her away. So instead, he promised himself that he would grow to be worthy of her care, and then- and only then- would he finally ask her on a date. He knew he would never be a good person, but he would try to be the best person for her- and for his daughter. He was adamant that he would be a part of her life. With the help of Hermione, they would get rid of the blasted law, and he would be able to tell everyone that Rosalinda was his daughter, and he loved her more than the world.

He fell asleep to dreams of a family- one where his daughter played with a little boy that had bright blonde hair with a touch of curl.

A.N./ Thank you so much for sticking with my story despite my finickiness. I hope you have a fabulous week! Please review with comments, critiques, and criticisms.

This story has very little editing upon being published, so if any of you would like to beta the chapters before I publish them, I would be very grateful for the help :)