Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters belong to Ms. Rowling and Warner Bros. and Bloomsbury.
A/N: I don't really have much faith in this story. This does deal with sensitive subjects, so you have been warned. Hope you like it.
SSS
Three Mistakes
They shouldn't have.
Or at least, he shouldn't have.
It was wrong and they were both capable enough adults to have stopped it from happening.
But they didn't.
He (and neither would she) would not have denied that it had felt wonderful. Stupendous. Mind-blowing. Breath-taking. Amazing. Wondrous. Beautiful.
So why did he feel so horrible?
If it felt so good, so sensually pleasing, why did it have to be so wrong? Why did it have to be so sinful?
He knew the consequences. So did she. But that didn't stop them. Nothing could, he knew.
Did he feel horrible because they had forgotten all respect to each other as gentleman and lady? Yes, he nodded, perhaps that was it…
True, they had lost all respect as dignified adults. Their nature had been bestial, predatory, almost…leaping, biting, nipping, caressing…
They had lost all intelligent thought, lost all reasoning. The hunger and passion drove them to, now that he thought about it, humiliating ends. But there was more to it than that bestial behavior.
There was that horrible feeling in his stomach, the one that squeezes at you until you throw up. The kind of feeling you get when something unpredicted and unpleasant is going to happen.
He was in the large armchair beside the fireplace in his bedroom. He sat in a thinker's pose, chin on fist, leaning forward and looking into the fire. He sighed and looked behind him, at his bed. There she was: long hair spread messily around her, eyes closed and her lips parted, sleeping. She was bare, and the blanket was pushed down to her waist. Sleeping on her belly, one arm was on her head, the other stretched out beside her, looking for her lover, even while in slumber. So innocent, helpless almost.
Slipping in beside her, he pulled her arm around her. But he needn't, for she had instantly wrapped her arm around his torso. She murmured his name into his ear softly into his ear and fell again into her deep sleep. He pulled up the blanket around the both of them and pressed his body close to hers. Even with the fire going, it was a cold night, and the blizzard still raged outside.
SSS
He had invited her to dinner. They both thought a personal get-together would strengthen the relationship between their two companies. He, being arrogant as he was, spared not a single chance to show-off. He had ordered his house-elves to prepare a feast fit for a king and ordered other house-elves to bring out the antiques Borgin & Burkes would kill for. He wanted everything grand and dramatic. He was, after all, as rich as a king.
But when she'd shown up at 7:59 sharp at his manor, his ego had stumbled a bit. She looked so humble in her silver dress robes, long hair let down, not in the usual haphazard bun or other equally bizarre hair-do's she would tie up at work. She had gazed with her wide eyes even wider when she entered.
She gasped when she saw a priceless relic/contraption hybrid he'd inherited from his great-grandfather.
"Surely not! Is this really a Wrakspurt detector?"
A what detector?
He stood awkwardly in the middle of his parlor while she rushed from this side of the room to the other, exclaiming and gasping, sighing and whispering in excitement.
"Ahem. Would you like to take a seat?" he asked hesitantly, not sure if this excitable young woman would oblige.
She smiled, said, "Of course," and sat down on the edge of a sofa. She quickly jumped up.
"Has this been sat on by a vampire? They leave traces of ectoplasm, too, even if they aren't ghosts…." she said serenely, as if she just said, "The sky is blue because it wants to be."
Puzzled, he walked over.
There was a strange sensation that started at his belly and came out of his mouth. He laughed. Chuckling, he said, "No, that's wine. Terribly sorry, I'll have it cleaned up."
Imagine him, laughing, of all people. Especially after the war…
The actual dinner was a blur. They talked a lot, business and such, but what he remembered most was the laughter, both from him and her. Him, laughing at every little joke when he hadn't so much given a chuckle in the last two-three years. He could tell this was something new for her, too, for he had never seen her laugh at work, just an offhand smile. The presence of her sitting so near made him very curious as to why he hadn't noticed her much at Hogwarts…
That was the first mistake: sitting so close together. Originally, they were to be seated in the Grand Table, the one where the length of the table was at least five miles. The table where you had to yell your lungs off to talk to the person on the other side. And passing the salt was hell, too.
No, he decided, they would sit at the small dinner table, the one where if he leaned over, his lips would touch her nose. The table where every whisper, every joke could be heard. And when they both shook with laughter, they were constantly bumping into each other…
They had started arguing. Passionately. The second mistake. He got in her face, she got in his. For someone so innocent and naïve, she had a surprisingly sharp and cold demeanor.
"Look, they can exist. People tell us these things, countless eyewitnesses—"
"People could be lying. Or have you not thought of that yet?"
"Have you ever seen the looks on their faces, their expressions?"
"There are things called actors and liars. They're very—"
They had adjourned to his parlor, drinking wine. Or was it whiskey? Vodka? Third mistake.
Everything became blurry. He didn't know how, but they had gotten awfully close on the loveseat…
But the next part was clearer. In his bedroom…pushing her against the wall, ravishing her…her, pushing him back onto the bed…sinfully crawling up on his body…
SSS
An undefined amount of weeks later…
The first ray of winter sunlight hit him full on in his face. He opened his eyes reluctantly. Next to him, the bed was empty.
He jumped upright, but a cool hand soothed him.
She crept in beside him, and pulled him down into the covers. Her pale blue eyes met his. She smiled and buried her face into his neck, body pressing against him. He barely suppressed a shuddered. Why did this have to be so wrong?
"There's somebody else in my body today. Not a Wrakspurt, though. I don't know who, but I like them, anyways."
"What?"
"Draco, I think I'm pregnant."
His stomach nearly lost it and his head whirled. Involuntarily, he tensed. No, no, no, no...
"No. I know I'm pregnant."
His breathing came in too fast. His heart thumped painfully. He wasn't ready, but the race had started without him. He couldn't support a baby. Wait, of course he could; he was filthy rich! But his reputation ("That's all you care about, isn't it?" said a tiny voice in his head)! If Witch Weekly found out the hottest bachelor in Britain had slept with a total stranger and got her pregnant…His business rivals would joke about it at work, laughing themselves silly…his mother would turn her head away in shame… ("No she wouldn't, you know she wouldn't…she'd take care of her…")
"Luna," he croaked out, "how can you be sure?"
"I've tested it three times this morning. I threw up. I feel the little one inside me," she said simply, as if stating the weather.
He would be a walking shame and a laughingstock. He could just forget about her and ignore it…No; she was so innocent, so naïve…How could he let this have happened to such a sweet girl?
His rarely used conscience jumped out. Yes, he would help her in any way possible. Conscience's friend Guilt leaped out as well. It was his fault and he was going to fix it.
Luna had grabbed his hand and placed it on her bare stomach. She smiled at him, serene, peaceful, as if nothing was really wrong. His heart lifted. Doing good had some satisfaction in it, didn't it? He started. Him, Draco Malfoy, a father…
SSS
How was it? Should I continue? As I've said before, I don't have much faith in this story. I hope you guys like it anyway. REVIEW AND TELL ME. OR ELSE.