“As long as the magic levels remain critically heightened, anything that disrupts the brain magically, with the exception of anticonvulsants, is to be avoided. He estimated my legilimency would be safe to attempt by the beginning of the third trimester, assuming her stress levels drop to a point where her anxiety stops being a trigger for the seizures.” Draco's eyes hooded, and he looked impassive. His hand was near his wand.
Stroud's pursed her lips. “That's an unfortunately long wait. You informed him that the memories were urgent?”
Draco waved his hand dismissively. “You've seen the reports; based on the mind healer's analysis, the more crucial the information is, the more protected it is. Attempting to extract it prematurely could result in recovering nothing but non-essential information. Memories are not discrete; they overlap associatively. The memories the Dark Lord is most eager for will not be the first memories recovered but the last ones.”
Stroud prodded at the projection of Hermione's brain once more before banishing it. “Well, now that she's reaching the end the first trimester, she should begin eating and recovering physically. It may not be a concern for you, given that the child won't be the heir, but elevated cortisol levels can affect a baby. With the restrictions the surrogates have on their behavior, stress can manifest in unusual ways if unaddressed. Exercise is a crucial way of channeling it. You should command her to exercise as soon as she appears stable enough to manage it.”
Draco gave a short, indifferent nod of acknowledgement.
He escorted Stroud out a few minutes later. Hermione went over and pressed her ear against the door. She could hear Stroud's voice receding down the hallway.
“If you don't want to keep a female, the lab will take it immediately after delivery. The Dark Lord understands that not everyone wants the obligation of multiple children. The ones with good potential will be raised to contribute to the program's next phase, and the others will be useful lab subjects. There's still so little understood about early magical development…”
Hermione's tongue curdled in her mouth, and her stomach wrenched so violently that she nearly vomited in the middle of the floor. She shakily went and sat on the edge of her bed.
Draco would never let it happen. He would never let it happen to her, to their baby. But that wouldn't save the other surrogates or their babies.
She closed her eyes.
She hoped Draco would return soon so she could ask to have her books back. Otherwise there was nothing to do but worry, and worry, and worry.
It was impossible to do anything but worry and then worry over the fact that she was worried.
Elevated cortisol could impact the baby.
Stay calm, otherwise she might have a seizure.
Then Draco might not let her research.
Then—
She tried not to think about it.
She mentally reviewed healing spells and developed theoretical potions for counteracting hemophilia and stopping hemorrhage.
It was nearly an hour before Draco reappeared. As soon as she saw him, her mind immediately returned to the appointment.
It was going to be a girl.
Now that she knew the gender, she could picture it more clearly. Before, it had been more abstract, a baby. Now it was a girl. A baby girl.
There were portraits of Malfoy children in the manor, always blond and grey-eyed… and male.
The Malfoy line was predominantly — entirely male.
Hermione couldn't think of any portraits featuring female Malfoy descendants. An heir, and occasionally a spare.
Hermione didn't know if it were a genetic anomaly or, more likely, a selection process; perhaps the Malfoys didn't traditionally keep female pregnancies.
Draco stopped a foot away from her and stood. He seemed only partly-present, as though his mind were elsewhere. Hermione's hands were laid against her stomach, and she watched him carefully.
“So — it's a girl,” she said.
His expression instantly closed, and he gave a short nod.
Her mouth twitched. “I didn't know Malfoys had girls.”
“No,” he said, shrugging.
Hermione felt as though there were a stone lodged in her throat. “Does it — does that matter to you then? That it's not a boy?”
Draco blinked and seemed to be suddenly roused from wherever his mind had been.
“What? No.” He stared at her. “The gender has never mattered to me.”
The feeling in her throat was replaced by a heaviness in her chest. Hermione nodded. “Alright. I just wondered.”
Draco eyed her. “It's an enchantment on the bloodline intended to keep the estate intact. Malfoys require a marriage bond to produce an heir with a witch.”
“Oh,” was all she could think to say. After several seconds she added “Stroud doesn't know.”
He shook his head and looked down and appeared to be studying the polish on his shoes. “It never seemed worth mentioning, given that the necessity of an heir made my efforts appear earnest.”
Hermione looked away.
Get married. Have children. Grow old with someone.