AN: Hey guys! I swear this isn't going to be the regular old 'Hermione gets pregnant Draco becomes an amazing father and they fall in love forever and ever' fic. It'll be a lot more fun and interesting than that, so I need your support to keep it going!

Reviews would be much appreciated, and I own nothing!

xx

No.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

Not a chance.

No. No, no, no, nononono...

Hermione repeated the words in her head like a prayer, as if by repeating them over and over again the stupid white stick might actually listen to her and change it's mind. That could happen, couldn't it? She had always been a big believer in will-power, 'if you dream it you can achieve it' and all that rubbish that her parents shoved into her mind ever since she was old enough to hear it.

When her mantra didn't seem to work the witch took it upon herself to simply stare at the stick, give it the death glare that she usually gave Ron and Harry when they were being twits, or that she gave her ferret co-head whenever he decided her self-esteem could use another hit and...

Oh Merlin.

The ferret.

Groaning, Hermione gave up and tossed the stick into the wastebin in the corner, having to resist the temptation to smack her head against the hard tile as she slid to the floor of her dormatory's bathroom.

Maybe he would be happy about it?

Maybe he secretly really, really wanted to be a father?

Or maybe Ron will write his next potion's essay all by himself, Hermione! That's likely too!

There were few things worse than learning you were having a baby at seventeen. She supposed she could have been hit by a bus, or that she could be failing all her cources, or that Voldemort could have won the war and they could all be dead. But there was nothing, absolutely nothing, worse than learning you were having a baby who was part-genious, part-ferret.

At least he's not entirely unattractive, she thinks to herself, as much as it pains her to admit to it. At least our baby might actually be pretty, and he's got a nice head of hair on him - I'll just have to pray to Merlin that it's his gene that gets passed on there, because Merlin forbid our unborn child favors my end of the gene pool. Poor thing would never forgive me. Although let's hope it's got my personality, because I don't think I'm suited to raise a carbon copy of Malfoy. He's enough of a twat already, if there's two of them I don't think I'll make it a week.

It's almost shocking to her, how she's managing to think semi-coherant thoughts when she's got the spawn of Malfoy growing in her belly. She thought her mind would be corrupted with thoughts of filthy mudbloods and sex, but all she can think of is the fact that babies have really tiny feet and she really hopes she doesn't get morning sickness because she hates vomiting.

It's shocking, because Hermione thought she would be panicking, but instead she's perfectly calm.

Weirdly calm, actually.

How is she so bloody calm?

How could she be calm at a time like this?

She should be freaking out, crying and throwing chairs and hexing the oblivion out of Draco Malfoy before finding a way to get rid of this whole damn situation. Because it's his fault, isn't it? All of it is his fault - he was the one who snuck the firewhisky into their dorm, he was the one who told her that if she didn't drink it she was just proving what a wet blanket she was, he was the one who got her wasted, he was the one who kissed her, and he was the one who insisted that condoms were a waste of time, and in her inebriated state she had somehow actually believed him.

A night she barely even remembered, a night the both of them were thrilled to forget, to never talk about again. A night that was a mistake, the lowest moment in the life of a girl who was sick of being ignored, taken advantage of, walked all over, and torn to pieces.

A night that was meant to make her feel better but only made her feel worse.

One bloody, sodding night that left her stomach with a gentle swell and her heart with a terrible sense of forboding and a baby in her stomach whose patriarch was the moderately-redeemed-but-still-a-prick bane of her existance.

Now, apparrently, is the time her body tells her she should panic, and panic she does. Her breath comes in chocking sobs, her heart is beating erradically and she flaps her hands by her side as if she's a little baby bird that couldn't get off the ground trying desperately to fly. What did she do what did she do what did she do...and before she knew it she was picking the sticks up from the rubbish bin and snapping them all into pieces, as if if she could get rid of them then the entire situation would be over all together, because they were where all her problems came from, it was their fault, and...

"Christ Granger, you wresting a hippogriff in there or something?"

Oh god.

Oh god oh god oh sweet Merlin what did she do? What was she meant to do?

Malfoy's voice rang through the hard wood of the door, a genuine hint of concern behind his sarcastic words. He wasn't all that terrible anymore - at least now he had proven he was capable of human emotions - and Hermione allowed herself to think for a moment that maybe, justmaybe, he would find it in him to handle the whole thing like a mature adult. That wasn't too much to ask, was it? Was that such an unlikely thing?

But then she remembered when a professor at their school got pregnant and how he had said that babies were a disgusting waste of time, and she went right back to panicking all over again.

"For the love of..."

She heard him alohamora the door, but didn't have the willpower in herself to stop him - instead she merely tossed the offending white sticks into the rubbish and gave him a half-hearted smile as he burst his way into the loo, well aware of what she looked like at the moment. Hair all over the place, eyes red and puffy, shirt partially unbuttoned and untucked; she must have looked like death itself. And the look on his face when he saw her confirmed that, desperately trying to hold back laughter with a obvious farcical sense of concern.

"You, uh...you doing okay there, Granger? Because you look just dazzling." His voice was laced with sarcasm and amusement and she crossed her arms over her chest angerly, certain it only made her look like more of a disaster.

"Just splended, thank you. I mean, why wouldn't I be?" she snapped in return, and before Hermione could stop it the words were flying out of her mouth like vomit, hanging in the air between them while she had to simply sit back in horror and watch. "After all, I am up the duff, so clearly this is a brilliant time in my life. I'm absolutely thrilled, can't you tell? What seventeen-year-old witch doesn't want to be eating for two, after all?"

A moment. A minute of dead silence, with Malfoy's face plastered with a look of disgust, and the look on Hermione's a mixture of shock, horror, and complete humiliation.

Oops.

It took a few seconds for him to speak, and when he did it wasn't what she had expected to hear at all.

"Honestly Granger, I know you've always been painfully honest and that's cool and all, but next time you're having your little..." he paused, pointing to her lower abdomen with his face scrunched up in revulsion, "Monthly gift, please, don't feel the need to share."

Bloody hell.

Raising an eyebrow, Hermione gave him her trademark 'you're not even smart enough to be in my presence' look, refusing to believe that anyone could actually be that daft. "I don't have my period, you complete twit!" she growled, eyes narrowed and all hesitation put behind her. He would have to find out eventually, right? Better sooner than later, and better quicker than slower, like ripping off a bandaid. "There's a bun in my oven, an egg in my basket, a parasite living in my uterus!" His face was still blank, and with a huff she went in for the kill.

"I'm bloody pregnant, alright? I'm bloody pregnant."

Silence.

More silence.

More silence.

And then...uncontrollable laughter from the boy across from her. What? "Oh Merlin, Granger, you've done it this time. Gryffindor Princess Hermione Granger, knocked up with the Weasel's baby? The poor thing'll be the ugliest little sod alive; I'd actually feel bad if it weren't so damn funny!" Which led to another bout of laughter, one that left steam coming out of Hermione's ears.

Ron's baby? The thought was even more revolting than it being Malfoy's, and she had to force back a shudder at the thought of doing that with Ron as she glared the blonde snake down. He was about to get the shock of his life, and Hermione couldn't even feel sorry about it for him.

The bloody twat deserved this. She didn't, but he did. Every single bit of it.

"It's not Ron's, you sod," she snarled, sneering as he continued to quiver with laughter. "This is your baby. Our stinking baby. One big happy family, the three of us are going to be! Isn't that just damn, ruddy hilarious?"

Not so funny anymore, is it Ferret? His laughter had stopped, and now he was just staring, staring, staring like she had with the pregnancy test, as if if he stared at her long enough he could just make her disappear. A minute passed and he was still staring, something that was starting to honestly creep Hermione the hell out. What was he doing? Why was he still staring at her? Was he...

Her next question was answered with the sound of the snake's limp body hitting the tiles, Hermione standing over his unconcious form with one hand cupping her stomach, the other resting against her forehead.

Well, it could have gone worse.