THE RULES

She stretched as the morning sun streamed through the window and let out a groan as she reached for her companion, only to discover he'd gone. Again. She didn't know why it bothered her so. This was rule number two: No spending the night.

She dragged herself into the shower, continuing to wallow in self-pity. Exiting, she let out a loud sigh, to which her mirror answered, "That's what you get for getting involved with a married man". "I know" she conceded and shuffled sadly to the kitchen, drying her hair as she went.

It really wasn't all that bad, she lied to herself. He never pressured her for a commitment or complained that she concentrated too much on her career. He didn't fret over her spending a lot of time with her friends or even get upset if she couldn't meet him. Well, that part was almost true, even though he said he wasn't upset, she knew that he really thought she should be available whenever he could manage to scrape together the time to see her.

Now all of the doubts began to rain down on her again. They couldn't be seen in public. She couldn't tell anyone, so her mother was always playing matchmaker. She spent most holidays and vacations (like she really ever took them) alone. He couldn't spend the night. This was the one thing that really bothered her the most. She longed to wake up in his arms, just once.

She thought about her life. It was really perfect except for that one thing. She had a career that was important and contributed to society. After training as a healer, she was promoted to head the triage unit at St. Mungo's during the war. Once the war was over she helped found the organization she worked for currently. She oversaw the practical operation of the Survivor's of the Second War Foundation, the accomplishment for which she was most proud. She had wonderful friends and a supportive family. She'd even managed to find the love of her life. He ran the financial end of the foundation. He was as intelligent and cunning a man as any she'd ever known. He was handsome and gentlemanly. He could even be funny. He had only one slight imperfection: someone else had found him first.

Yes, Hermione Granger had everything a woman could ever want, but for some odd reason, she would have, willingly, given it all up, if just for one night, Draco Malfoy would stay in her bed until the sun shined, brightly through the window.

Hermione sat, looking at her breakfast, unable to touch it. She was absolutely certain he would be there when she awoke this morning. There was definitely something different about last night. In the two years she'd been seeing him, she'd never seen the side of him he'd shown her last night. He made love to her so sweetly, so tenderly and slowly, that she felt sure he'd decided to throw caution to the wind and declare their love to the entire world. It might have been the best night of her life, if it hadn't been followed by such bitter disappointment this morning. She decided that it might be a good idea to have a chat with Draco. Ah, but that was dangerously close to rule number one: No talking about feelings. She smiled, maybe they could bend this rule just once, after all, she couldn't continue to hide how miserable she was from him; he was clever and sure to notice.

She picked up the Daily Prophet and skimmed the headlines. She tutted as she read one story after another about silly things like new broomsticks and potions to erase wrinkles. Since the end of the war, there really wasn't much "news" in the newspaper anymore. What she saw on page three, however, was, for Hermione, the most devastating article the paper had ever run, despite its diminutive size.

The blurb read:

Witch Weekly gains unprecedented access to cover birth of Malfoy heir.

(She continued to read, though her vision was blurry from tears.)

Witch Weekly is proud to announce signing a deal with society witch, Pansy Parkinson Malfoy to publish her journal entries as she experiences first-time motherhood.

Mrs. Malfoy will share her feelings about everything from choosing a midwife to decorating the nursery as she awaits the birth of her first child in May. "Draco and I are just ecstatic about the baby", she was overheard to say as the announcement was made this morning at Witch Weekly's headquarters in Diagon Alley.

Mrs. Malfoy was due to begin a society column for the publication, but when her editors learned of the pregnancy, they jumped on the opportunity to give their readers a glimpse into the lives of one of the wizarding world's most prominent families.

Hermione dropped the paper and immediately felt as though she was hit in the chest by a bludger. Well, that explained it. He knew the announcement would be made today and was trying to soften the blow. Was this it? Now that he was going to be a father, would he break things off? Certainly, he would. Once the child was born, he wouldn't have even the little time he spared for her now. Draco would want be a good father. He'd want to be there, for every step, including the pregnancy. Pansy wouldn't lose herself in shopping and redecorating the manor now and he wouldn't be able to sneak away; he wouldn't want to. It was never more clear to her how wrong she'd been to enter into a relationship with someone who was bound to another than at that moment.

There was something else however, that was trying to work its way into her conscious mind. Somehow, she was always able to pretend that Draco was all hers and loved only her, that his marriage was a pre-fabricated sham cobbled together by his mother. But here, before her, for all the world to see, was irrefutable proof that his marriage was real and he was still sleeping with his wife.

Hermione thought she could actually feel her heart shatter.

He had never said he wasn't sleeping with Pansy, perhaps it was because his marriage was on the "things we don't talk about" list (call it rule 1a). He hadn't made her any promises of exclusivity. When she saw him at work today, in fact, he would probably be handing out cigars. It was normal. It was expected. Draco always did what was expected of him. She would have to congratulate him, along with everyone else. It would look suspicious if she didn't.

She felt panic. She couldn't face him. She considered owling to say she was ill and couldn't make it. What message would that send? That she'd let it get to her? Well, she wasn't going to lie anymore, she thought. All this lying to herself and those around her had put her in this position to begin with. A miserable howl escaped her as she realized, she couldn't even cry on the shoulders of her best friends or her mother, because they had no idea she was involved with anyone.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. That was odd, she thought, none of her friends ever knocked. Her parents had a key. Bemused, she opened the door after hastily wiping the tears from her face.

It was Draco.

He looked terrible. He obviously hadn't slept, though he'd at least thought to change his clothes. (One of those Malfoy rules about keeping up appearances, no doubt) He wouldn't look at her, staring only at the floor, like a naughty child who'd broken something precious.

"Why did you knock"? She managed to say, although very quietly

"I didn't know if you'd want me in your flat again after you read the paper" he replied, just as quietly.

"Of course I want you. Come in" she stood aside for him to enter, but he stopped in front of her pulling her to him in a crushing embrace, burying his face in her hair.

"Oh, thank god. I thought I would lose you for sure" he choked.

She didn't know what to say, other than their lovemaking, he never, never showed any emotion toward anyone. Relief flooded her, but at the same time, the horrible guilt she'd been feeling wouldn't let go.

"Let's talk" she whispered

So much for rule number one.