A/N: All rights on the Harry Potter Universe belong to J. K. Rowling!
The finals are over, and guess what? My brain went on a hike again! Here is the promised sequel to 'Mayhem before Christmas'! Turns out it's going to be a multi-chaptered fic! No updating schedule this time, but it should be once or twice a week.
Rated M for language and adult themes.
Enjoy your read and don't forget to review!
Plot? What plot?
Sunday morning, January 9th, 2005 – 9 weeks along
Central London, Malfoy residence
"I have to go vomit…" whimpered Hermione through gritted teeth, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth.
"So that's where we are at now, isn't it? You can't even stand the sight of me!"
Hermione glared up at the dark-skinned man in a blue paisley shirt who was blocking her path to the kitchen doorway, looking hurt.
"Blaise, I swear if you don't let me pass…" she growled.
He cut her off with a wave of his hand and took her by the shoulders, his face level with hers and a pleading look in his eyes.
"Hermione, sweetheart, I know I did terrible things, okay?" he wailed. "But you can't be mad at me forever!"
Hermione shuddered with disgust and tried to escape his grip, her features crinkling at the strong smell of his cologne, but Blaise was holding onto her like a Grindylow with trust issues. To complete the impression, the waves of his sweetish perfume were clouding her like the fumes of a swamp. The young woman hiccupped.
"Blaise…"
"Just tell me what to do to make it up to you!"
"Blaise, let me pass!" screeched Hermione, her pale cheeks turning a greenish tinge.
She pried his fingers off her shoulders, but just as she was attempting to duck under his arm and out of the kitchen, he threw himself in the doorway with his arms and legs outstretched.
"No! I'm the most pathetic being, Hermione! I'm aware of it!" he exclaimed dramatically. "Well, maybe not as pathetic as him…" he added thoughtfully, gazing past her.
Despite her raging nausea, Hermione unwittingly cast a glance over her shoulder towards the massive kitchen island. Still clad in his old checkered pajamas, Ron was sitting on a bar stool opposite them and was very busy fishing with his bare hands small bits of bacon out of a pot of baked beans. Sensing them watching him, he looked up and hurriedly swallowed his mouthful of bacon.
"What?" he mumbled.
"I was just telling Hermione you were the more pathetic of the two of us," said Blaise.
Ron blinked, seemingly mulling over the statement, and shrugged.
"He is not wrong… The other day, I watched a pigeon die."
Hermione closed her eyes briefly to brace herself and turned away to try to get past Blaise but he jumped in her way once more.
"Look, I'm despicable, okay?" he blurted out quickly. "But I'm deeply insecure, alright? I know it's not obvious… I'm playing this big, tough guy who has the world in his hands, handsome but humble at the same time, you know… Confident without forgetting to be gentle, and all in all, lovable…"
He flashed her a seductive grin, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe and bucking his hips forward. Hermione moaned, now both her hands clasped over her mouth, and turned frantically on the spot as though looking for another way out.
"But to tell you the truth, I went through some pretty dark times just like everyone else…" continued Blaise, completely oblivious. "I'll tell you everything, okay? When I was nine years old, I fed Fizzing Whizbees to a frog, and it died… Then I went into a period of time where I fed them to all little animals. Squirrels can live through it, chipmunks can live through it. Anything that lives half in and out of water dies, and I don't understand why."
"Zabini…"
"… When I was ten, I once walked by my mother sleeping, and I snuck in the room, and I put a whole pack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans in her mouth! When I was eleven, I once tried on my girl cousin's wool tights, and I didn't hate the way it felt!"
"Zabini!"
"My sixteenth year, I never got an erection! I thought they were done! I thought my penis was dead!"
"Oh, Merlin!"
"It wasn't."
"It will be!" yelled Hermione, darting to the brass bin in a corner of the kitchen and kicking it open.
She fell to her knees before it, gripping the edge of the bin and coughing up convulsively. She was vaguely aware of someone exclaiming "What the hell is going on here?" and saw out of the corner of her eye Blaise being shoved away.
"I didn't think she meant it literally!" replied the latter defensively.
Next moment, she felt Draco's hands brushing her curls off her face and holding her hair back while he squatted down beside her.
"You alright?" he asked worriedly, rubbing her between the shoulder blades.
"The smell… Get it out of my kitchen!" she managed to choke out, gesturing haphazardly over her shoulder.
"It? I'm an it now?" huffed Blaise, offended.
"Not you, you bloody idiot!" barked Draco. "The smoked salmon you brought! The smell is making her sick! Get it out of here!"
"I'm on it!" chanted Ron merrily, snatching the silver tray of fish from the kitchen worktop before Blaise could take it.
Hermione watched him lift the greasy, pink pieces of salmon between his fingers and stuff them into his mouth before chewing them with squelching noises. Sickness bent her over again.
"Out, all of you!" bellowed Draco.
/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\
When after a quick cleanup in the bathroom Hermione finally entered the dining room flooded with rare winter sunlight, everyone was already gathered around the long table and tucking into the copious brunch. Blaise had cautiously settled at the far end of the table and peered at her sheepishly from behind a jug of milk. Draco had saved her a seat between him and Ginny; she and Harry were listening with carefully composed faces to Ron and Theo, who sat opposite them.
"… Mom kicked me out," was explaining Ron. "Said she wouldn't have me at home every time I rejoin the world of celibacy…"
"I believe 'have you whining all day long every time you get dumped by a woman' were her exact words…" snorted Ginny slyly.
Ron cast her a dirty look.
"Yeah, well… She said it was time I took control of my life like a grown man and…"
"And this is exactly what you are doing here! Cheers, mate!" chuckled Harry, raising his glass of orange juice.
"They offered to host me for some time!" protested Ron.
"Hermione did," corrected Draco pleasantly. "But you are welcome. I've always wondered what it was like to have a pest in the house."
Ron's ears glowed red, but before he could reply anything, the Slytherin turned away dismissively and got up to pull a chair out for Hermione.
"Morning sickness?" asked Ginny sympathetically as she settled down.
"I actually thought I was done for today," hissed Hermione with a murderous look for the jug of milk at the other end of the dining table.
The jug of milk moved slightly to the right to hide the side of Blaise's head.
"It's a miracle the papers didn't get wind of the news yet," commented Harry. "Have you thought about how you'd like to make it public?"
Hermione let herself go against the back of her chair, caressing absentmindedly her barely showing belly through the white cashmere cardigan she was wearing. Next to her, Draco shifted to lay his hand on top of hers, failing to conceal the grin of proud superiority tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"The hardest part is to find a good title," smirked Hermione. "I was thinking about 'Sacred Twenty-Eight minus One' for the headline in the Daily Prophet. We made a quick calculus of the amount of money having a child is going to cost us, and giving Lucius a stroke to get the inheritance would spare us a lot of trouble."
"She is kidding," specified Draco, rolling his eyes.
Hermione hummed airily, sipping her cranberry juice. Harry and Ginny exchanged a look, a strange smile gracing their faces.
"So, hmm, maybe we could make a double announcement?" said Ginny lightly, seemingly focused on stirring her porridge.
Hermione froze with her glass raised halfway to her mouth and stared at her.
"Gin'?" she breathed, her eyes wide.
On the other side of Theo on her left, Ron had stopped eating; his gaze traveled between his best friend's and his sister's faces.
"Are you…?" started Hermione, her voice strangled with emotion.
Ginny looked up, beaming, and nodded.
"What?" croaked out Ron. "You are what?"
"Oh Gin'!" exclaimed Hermione, rising from her chair and reaching to hug her friend over the table.
"NO!"
Everyone jumped as Draco slammed his fist on the table. Plates and glasses rattled loudly. Hermione turned to see his smile slide off his face like yesterday's oatmeal off a plate.
"Uh oh…" muttered Theo.
Blaise emerged from behind the jug of milk to take a better look.
"NO!" Draco repeated, springing to his feet and almost overthrowing his chair.
He clenched his fists and glowered at Harry, looking outraged.
"Curse on you, Potter!" he fumed. "Curse on you! Curse on your hippogriff! Curse on your whole family!"
"Draco, what the hell?!" exclaimed Hermione, scandalized, and tugged on his arm to try and force him back into his seat.
He merely shrugged her off.
"For once, Potter!" he yelled. "For once I was going to outstrip you, but you just had to go and knock Weaslette up, didn't you?"
"WHAT?" roared Ron.
"Seriously?" said Hermione exasperatedly, staring at Draco with a disbelieving look and slumping back into her chair.
"Wow!" exclaimed Harry, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. "I did not intend to…"
"YOU TAKE THAT BACK, POTTER!"
"I'm not sure this is how it works…" said Ginny, frowning.
The men did not pay her any attention. Harry had gotten to his feet as well, his shoulders squared, and was facing Draco, who had started pacing.
"You know what?" growled the Slytherin and waggled his finger at him. "I don't care! I don't care because my kid is going to be born first anyway! Isn't it, Hermione?" he asked, rounding on her. "When is it due?"
"End of August, but…"
"You hear that, Potter? End of August!"
"Well, ours is due at the end of August too," replied Harry calmly.
"YOU MARK MY WORDS!" shouted Draco. "Hermione, tell him you are going to give birth first!"
"I'm not signing up for this."
"She is going to! And he is going to get his Hogwarts letter first! And he'll get on the Quidditch team first! And…"
"You wanna bet?" cut him off Harry.
His calm expression was gone and had been replaced with the fierce, competitive look Hermione remembered him from Hogwarts and that he used to have every time the discussion concerned the House Cup or beating the Slytherins – and especially Malfoy – at Quidditch. He was leaning over the table, his palms set on the white tablecloth and a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"You just wait!" hissed Draco.
"You know," sighed Hermione wearily, turning to Theo, "it's when your best friend and your husband initiate a who-has-the-faster-sperm contest and you are not even allowed to drink that you realize Nature well and truly screwed women over."
"Here," said Theo knowingly and handed her a cup of what she initially thought was tea but could now catch a whiff of Firewhiskey wafting from it, "You could at least sniff the vapors to go through this."
References:
"When I was nine years old, I fed cereal flakes to a frog, and it died. Then I went into a period of time where I fed cereal flakes to all little animals. Squirrels can live through it, chipmunks can live through it. Anything that lives half in and out of water dies, and I don't understand why. When I was ten, I once walked by my mother sleeping, and I snuck in the room, and I put a lemon in her mouth. When I was 11, I once tried on my girl cousin's wool tights, and I didn't hate the way it felt! My sixteenth year, I never got an erection. I thought they were done. I thought my penis was dead. It wasn't." – Nick Miller, New Girl, Season 4 Episode 6.
"Dishonor! Dishonor on your whole family! Make a note of this: dishonor on you, dishonor on your cow..." – Mushu, Mulan.