She felt watched.
Incredibly watched throughout her final year at Hogwarts.
She couldn't bring herself to come to the conclusion of it.
She was very much paranoid.
Incredibly paranoid.
Who could blame her though?
After all the golden trio had gone through.
Harry was dead.
And her lover Ron had recently found himself at death's hands also.
The Weasley's had dispersed after Harry and Ron's deaths; meaning all blood traitors felt targeted.
Hermione Granger's parents were dead.
She was alone.
Above all though, the dark lord, Tom Riddle, was dead.
Funny how something like war, good versus and evil left nothing but pure pain and agony.
No one won this fucking war.
Although she was spending most of her time at the school, the only difference was the amount of socialization she received.
Everyone was afraid of death still, after all this time, people still treated it as if it were a contagious disease.
Hermione was being treated as if she was the cause of it.
But she couldn't blame them, they didn't understand anything she went through.
Lately, she had been going through headaches, dizziness and a cramping in stomach.
Stress and depression possibly?
She held onto her wand tightly. She rarely ever had it anywhere else besides her hand these days. How depressing. This wasn't how things were suppose to be these days.
Hermione was still coming to terms with the life she knew. During the war, she accepted that she would lose much of what she was familiar with, but she never expected to lose absolutely everything. That's what really pissed her off more than anything, her expections were low, but not this low.
For gods sakes, even Crookshanks was dead!
Nothing was the same, nor would it ever be the same.
The thought of her fluffy friend made her tear up, but she didn't let herself actually cry.
Bellatrix came into her room that uneventful night at the Battle of Hogwarts and skinned him alive.
The blood.
That was the memory. It was as bright as grenadine and by the end of the battle when she came back into her room beaten but still a champion, it all dried into a deep brownish red.
At least the murderer of her beloved pet was dead as of that night at the hand of Molly Weasley.
She chuckled for the first time in a while, only to be interrupted by a feeling of disgust, then followed by a feeling of nausea.
She ran to the nearest bathroom, but unfortunately did make it in time.
"W-woah," she yelled falling onto her back.
She spewed everywhere in front of herself, including the path she was running on which ultimately led to her on the ground. She continued to retch even after falling.
"For gods sakes," she whispered.
As she was bringing herself back up, she noticed the worst thing she's seen in the last year.
She moaned, "Noooooo. This has to be some joke."
She stared at the broken wand right in front of her. Split in half.
"Ughhhhh."
She continued to empty her stomach as she mourned for her only defense.
Why did she have to always hold onto that damned wand all the time?
There was no more danger out there, why was she so worried all the time? I mean, everyone who was once a threat no longer existed.
Hermione made her way to Madam Pomfrey's infirmary. She was beginning to develop a slight headache from that fall.
Life was not treating her well today.
She called after the medi-witch when she walked in.
She peered much quicker than she expected.
"Ah! Hermione! How've you been? I haven't seen you in quite a while."
Hermione only nodded and replied with a quick response and slight smile that convinced her that she was doing well.
"Now tell me, what can I do for you today?"
Hermione informed her of headache and sickness earlier.
"Why can't you just use a quick charm or spell to help you, darling? Those are easily taken care of Hermione, you know that." She smiled.
Hermione quickly showed her her broken wand; and Madam Pomfrey nodded in an understanding fashion.
"I see; No worries, Ill clean you up right now. But first let me find the reason for your headache and nausea." After a quick series of yes or no questions.
Madam Pomfrey concluded that Hermione hit her head much hard when she was racing for bathroom earlier and that she could have possibly ate something that was upsetting her stomach.
"Let me find what it was that hurt you, honey," she said to Hermione. She chanted a quick charm and pointed at her stomach. A slight purple cloud peered from her stomach and turned the medi-witch's face into a confused glare.
"Strange," she said.
"What is?" Hermione asked in curiosity.
Madam Pomfrey put a finger on her chin, "It wasn't anything you ate, but there is something going on in your stomach. Hold on a second."
She pointed her wand at Hermione abdomen once again, but this time in a much gentler fashion than before.
With a quick enchantment, a white smoke surrounded her stomach this time.
Madam Pomfrey's stayed frozen as she made another enchantment under her breath.
The smoke stayed the same color, but she felt a warm feeling come from inside her.
It slightly tickled.
The medi-witched cleared her throat and kept the same face, "Hermione, darling. Like I said you're not sick. But there is something happening in you, which is the most beautiful thing that can ever happen, which is create a new life-and you're doing exactly that."
Hermione stared at her and squinted her eyebrows together.
"That didn't make any sense, I came in here because of a damned headache and just a slight sickness. That can't mean I'm having a baby. I haven't even had sex!"
Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips before she spoke again, but this time she kept her voice low, "Hermione, you are pregnant. My test concluded it. Believe me, you're 8 weeks in. How did you not notice?"
Hermione opened her mouth but didn't anything.
How could this be?
-
Hermione dragged her feet down to her dorm.
The longest walk in the world.
Eight weeks ago, Ron died and Harry a few days later.
It could have only happened with one of them. I mean she was there with them the entire time. She also loved both of them dearly.
It had to be one of them.
She looked back at her stomach.
It was in there growing.
It was alive.
She wasn't even aware of it up until the last hour.
Eight whole weeks it went unnoticed.
She sat on her bed with medicines and vitamins Madam Pomfrey gave her.
Without even knowing it, a tear fell down her cheek. She hadn't cried since their deaths. She promised she would never cry again, it looked like she was breaking that silent promise.
With her hands in face she wept, letting the tears fall everywhere.
She let herself fall into an area of darkness, a place that was all too familiar.
Hermione didn't notice the dark figure across the room staring straight at her up until it made his presence known.
He cleared his throat.
She quickly gasped and reached for the broken wand out of habit.
"Who is that?" She yelled pointing half of what she use to call her wand.
The tall figure didn't respond fast enough.
"Alarte Ascenadare!"
Bad idea.
Next thing she knew she was on the ground with her eyes full of stars and head throbbing once again. Couldn't she just catch a break for once?
She glanced at her hand and saw it still in hand, for split second she wanted to use it, but knew much better than to do so. She let go of her wand.
She closed her eyes tightly in fear of what could happen next.
Hermione felt the figure close onto her, "Goodness Granger. This would happen to you out of all people."
Chills fell down her spine. Of course it was him! How could she have been so blind? All that paranoia was due to him; those looks and stares she would get were from him all along.
Before Hermione could say something or even get off the ground, Draco Malfoy bent over to examine her. He shook his head and pointed his wand at her stomach.
A purple smoke, the same color as the one in Madam Pomfrey's appeared.
She heard him sigh in relief.
"Thank Merlin," he said under his breath. "Our baby is fine, Granger."
Hermione recoiled at his words, "What do you bloody, mean 'our'? It isn't yours Malfoy."
Malfoy smirked at her words and only replied with swift movement in his hand towards her stomach.
Instead of a white or purple smoke rising from her abdomen this time, it was words that rised out of her:
Sex: Unconclusional
Age: 8 weeks and 1 day and 7 hours
Mother: Hermione Jean Granger
Father: Draco Lucius Malfoy.
Hermione's mouth gaped open but nothing came out.
Malfoy took this moment to speak, "You see Granger, I want you and this is the only way to ensure that. What a Malfoy wants is what he gets, let that be understood. Now," he changed his tone, "let me fix up that headache of yours."