Hey guys!

So this is my very first Draco/Hermione fanfic, although this story also includes a bit of Ron/Hermione for those Romione fans out there!

This story is dedicated to the wonderful Amy-Louise ( theynamedheramy - Twitter) who I know is a devoted Dramione shipper. She is an incredible friend and I hope she likes this.

As always, I do not own ANY of the characters or anything in Harry Potter, it belongs to J.K. Rowling!

Please leave a review!

Love,

RavenclawCookie

Hermione Weasley, infamous head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, strolled into her rather spacious office, her bushy mane of wild mahogany locks cascaded down the midnight-blue shoulders of her regulation Ministry robes. She had endured a painfully stressful day, having battled with constant requests from co-workers to sign endless stacks of papers, investigated various anomalies in the Wizarding World of beasts and beings, and had soldiered on with her ongoing project involving the House Elves' free rights. A weak hand brushed her taught forehead, trembling slightly.

Suddenly, a knock sounded from the heavy wooden door opposite her. She sighed inwardly, fighting the urge to flick the tip of her wand at the keyhole and jam it shut. However, she could not deny her clients their time and urgency and thusly replied to their knock with an unenthusiastic "…Yes?"

A small, frail-looking wizard with grey fly-away hair stumbled into her office, his emerald eyes enlarged to ridiculous size by a pair of thick, round glasses that reminded her oddly of Harry's.

"M-Miss Weasley?" He squeaked, a pile of ivory parchment clenched beneath his elbow.

"What is it?" Hermione replied, trying her utmost to appear pleasant and eager to assist.

"Mr Mockridge sent these down for you about the dragon territory…" He thrust the papers towards her tentatively, almost shivering with natural yet uncontrollable nerves.

Hermione wondered why on earth the man was so nervous. Was he like this with everybody? It wasn't as if she was a formidable woman of power who executed her clients at the slightest hindrance towards the department. She was a likeable worker, who was good enough at her job and passionate enough to be promoted to the highest rank. She gave him a smile and took the papers, beads of sweat appearing on her brow at their surprisingly heavy weight. Her eyes wandered to the mountains of other forms and pieces of parchment to sign, decline or accept. It would surely take her until the end of the working month to complete them all. The thought made her head swim; endless worries filled her mind. She was aware of the small wizard still gazing at her and was about to suggest for him to kindly leave her office, when she spotted his wrinkled brow crease with critical worry. But as she looked upon his small, quaking frame, she found she could barely fight to keep her eyes from closing. Her hand grazed something…something solid - wooden, even. A leg chair? That's when she noticed she was on the floor. Her surroundings seemed peaceful, tranquil and distorted by a misty haze that clouded her vision. Even the small wizard had now been engulfed by it.

"Miss Weasley?"

His squeaky voice drifted to her through the fog, as if distant. She clawed at her robes in search of her wand, but it was hopeless. The darkness ensnared her and within minutes, she had fallen into nothingness.

Ronald Billius Weasley had been occupied busying himself with stacking shelves at his part-time job helping his brother George run the joke shop 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' situated in the centre of Diagon Alley. He had spent the entirety of the morning loading immense amounts of love potion onto the display unit at the front of the shop, filling the empty spaces caused by young witches fresh out of their years at Hogwarts. His mind wandered to Hermione (who would surely be busy with her vital job at the Ministry of Magic at this present moment in time) and a smile crept upon his freckled features, slowly but surely. He scratched his long, freckle-scattered nose with his free hand whilst placing bottles of oddly-named love potion onto shelves with the other. They had been a devoted couple ever since the Battle of Hogwarts; which seemed like centuries ago. They were never separated before Hermione had applied for a job at the Ministry, staying by each others side religiously without breaking the routine. But thanks to Hermione's more than satisfactory O.W.L. results, the Ministry had snapped her up immediately - and it wasn't long before she was promoted.

Ron had proposed to her without hesitation; he loved her far too much to ever feel worried about committing. And she returned his love without question. The pair were married shortly after - too eager to wait, but still managing to put on a rather splendid service that had brought tears to the eyes of every guest in the seating area (including Ron's rather steely-eyed brother, George) - and had somehow survived being apart. Ron missed her dearly and checked the watch given to him by his father. One of the many hands circling the golden face was directed at the number 1; that meant Hermione would be home in a matter of hours. He grinned to himself.

His smile was wiped clean off his face, however, when he felt a familiar hand grasp his shoulder in an iron grip. The hand spun him round so that he almost dropped the bottle of magenta liquid still clasped in his thin hand.

It was George, wearing an unusually worried expression on his face that frequently bore only a mischievous grin (though not as commonly as it did before the death of Fred).

"George, what's up?" Asked Ron, perplexed and frightened by his brother's grave expression.

"It's Hermione,"

Ron's heart seemed to skip a beat.

"She collapsed in work."

Draco Malfoy walked through ward after ward of St. Mungo's hospital, fully adapted now to the blinding white lights that littered the ceiling, casting florescent glows onto the suffering (and recovering) patients confined to the crisp white sheets of their beds. Draco's long, ivory-white coat fluttered out behind him as he strolled past patient after patient, some suffering from the most terrible and unusual diseases known to the wizarding world. His wand and a clip board was clutched under the crook of his armpit, his white-blond hair was smoothed back into a neat quiff and purpled bags were beginning to appear underneath his pale grey eyes (which did not bear the same malicious twinkle they did in his youth). His pallid complexion was heightened by the ongoing exhaustion that possessed his body like a demon, giving every muscle an ache he could to rid himself of. St. Mungo's had given him many sleepless nights to deal with, but after the Battle, he had vowed to himself that he would do his utmost to help people, the way he never had whilst he was at Hogwarts. He wanted to give something back.

"Mr Malfoy?"

A young, cherub-faced Healer with long, flowing red hair that reminded him of Ginevra Weasley came sprinting up to him, her face flushed with the effort of running up several flights of stairs to greet him. She looked slightly panicked; was she new here?

"Yes?" He said, raising his fair eyebrows expectantly.

"Miss Weasley - head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry has just been brought in. She collapsed in work and is in need of immediate medical assistance."

Draco barely heard what the Healer was saying as he started down the stairs, almost tripping over his own feet with flustered panic. He never thought he would see her again…and now she was here…his heart hammered wildly in his chest. hadn't she married Weasley? The whole of the Wizarding World had heard about their cute little wedding - including him. The Healer trotted along beside him, attempting to guide him towards Hermione's bedside; but his feet acted of his own accord, like they already knew which direction the young witch lay in. He turned a corner and that's when he saw her: her long, chocolate locks spilling over the contrasting pillow like a luxurious waterfall, her delicate hands lying limply upon her flat stomach and her long eyelashes curving towards thin-air, showing that she was still unconscious.

Draco's heart gave an enormous jolt. "Thank you, I'll take it from here." He told the Healer quietly. She hurried off like a frightened child who's parents had ordered her to take refuge in her bedroom. Draco made his way over to the bad on which Hermione lay, his knees feeling awfully weak - so weak that he felt they would buckle any second. He gripped the iron railings of the bed, steadying himself. He looked upon her figure, arguing with himself on whether to wake her or simply let her sleep; she looked so peaceful.

Draco Malfoy had never admitted to himself whilst at Hogwarts that he was in love with the muggleborn witch Hermione Granger. But now, she was a Weasley, not a Granger and neither of them were in Hogwarts anymore. So he deemed it prudent to admit it to himself now, as his eyes rested upon her sleeping form, that he was in love with Hermione.

Hermione Granger's eyes fluttered open groggily; she felt awful. Every inch of her body ached and she had to force her eyelids open. It was almost as bad as when she had been cursed by one of the Death Eater's in the Department of Mysteries, but she knew no uttered curse or incantation had been the cause of her timely collapse - and that's what scared her more. Her vision was cloudy, obscured by the lingering haze of her unconsciousness. When the smoke cleared, a figure was revealed; tall, slender and looming over her like the arched stem of a wilting flower. She recognized the hollow cheekbones and dull grey eyes; she recognized the familiar shade of his ash-blonde hair and his smug stature. She could barely believe her eyes; were they deceiving her? Since when had Draco Malfoy become a Healer?

"Hello Hermi-Miss Weasley," Draco corrected himself, doing his very best to remain clam and composed. "I trust your feeling better? We've been waiting for you to come around."

"Malfoy?! I…what on earth happened?" She asked, bemused by her own surroundings. She was now aware she was in St. Mungo's hospital.

"You were brought in this morning. Apparently you collapsed in work." Draco informed her, trying to sound casual. "We're just running some tests on you...to see if everything's okay. It could just be stress-related, however."

Hermione's chestnut eyes widened. This new information was far too much to absorb. Draco hovered awkwardly beside her bed, unsure of what to do with himself; he had not seen the girl in years. He thought his feelings would have disappeared by now - but no. They had returned with biting vengeance. Draco turned on his heel, his white coat drifting out behind him as he spun, his cheeks illuminated with a distinct crimson hue, when Hermione's voice sounded behind him:

"Thank you, Malfo- I mean, Draco."

His heart did a rather enthusiastic somersault in his chest. A small smiled curved his lips and he did not bother turning round to face her when uttering the simple reply: "You're very welcome, Miss Weasley."

Ron stumbled through St. Mungo's, having blundered out of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes the moment the words telling him of Hermione's collapse had escaped George's lips. He approached the witch at the desk, utterly breathless.

"E-Excuse…me," He began, his lungs gasping for air.

The witch looked up at him, bored and disinterested. "Yes?" She answered dully, not phased by his haggard appearance.

"Hermione Weasley…which ward is she on?" He asked desperately, his heart rate slowing steadily.

"Spell Damage. Fourth floor." She said, her voice a droning hum.

"Thanks!" Ron gasped, inhaling a deep breath before rushing off again.

Within ten minutes, Draco had returned to check on Hermione, unable to resist spending more time with her.

"Hello, Miss Weasley." The words were sour on his tongue. Weasley, a voice scoffed silently in his mind. It should be 'Malfoy' , another voice hissed. He shook it off, forcing a pleasant smile.

"Draco, honestly, we spent seven years at Hogwarts together. Call me Hermione." She rolled her eyes, which Draco noticed looked tired.

He chuckled, a sound Hermione only really associated with snide or sarcastic comments she had heard him utter on countless occasions. "Alright then, Hermione," He smiled, marvelling at the wonderful way her name rolled off his tongue. "Your test results just came in," He held the clipboard he was carrying out in front of him. As he stole a glance at her behind the silver hinge clamping the parchment to the board, he found it extremely difficult to keep his heart from beating out of his ribcage; it was like a flightless bird desperate to escape from it's nest. "Let's have a look shall we?" He lifted the corner, just as a man came barging round the corner, his eyes wide with worry. Draco almost felt winded as he looked into the familiar face of Ronald Weasley.

Her husband.

His free hand clenched into a trembling fist, his knuckles fading a sickly shade of white as he watched Ron bend down to Hermione's level and brush his lips against her clammy forehead. The scarlet-haired wizard seemed almost oblivious to Draco until he made a rather loud grunt in his chest that he tried his utmost to make it sound involuntary.

Ron's eyes snapped to the tall, slim wizard before him and his pupils dilated with shock. "Malfoy?" He breathed.

"Alright, Weaslebee?" Draco smirked, a little of his old self returning in his voice.

Ron's sky-blue eyes darkened to the same shade of a stormy ocean sea, ignoring the old nickname Draco had used. He continued onto more pressing matters. "How's Hermione?"

"I'm just about to check. She seems fine, actually, Weasley, why don't you ask her yourself?" It was apparent Ron was not so eager to forgive their uneven past like Hermione had been.

Hermione gave Ron a reassuring smile. "I feel okay…a little shaky, but fine otherwise. You didn't have to leave George at the shop, you know."

"Of course I did! My wife's in hospital, I couldn't just leave her." Ron said with a slight grin. He placed a gangly arm around her shoulder and squeezed her, before releasing her with a chuckle.

I wish you had just left her, Draco's consciousness muttered snidely.

"Right," He snapped, interrupting their sweet reverie with relish. "Let's see what's wrong with you, Hermione. It's probably nothing but stress, but we should check just in case." He flipped the parchment over, scanning through the neat writing until he found the single word that caused his heart to shatter into a million fragments.

"Pregnant," He whispered, his chest throbbing with a sudden, burning pain.

"Pardon?" Hermione squeaked, unsure she had heard him correctly.

"Y-you're pregnant." Draco stammered, feeling as though all the breath had been knocked from his lungs.

"Merlin!" Ron cried, causing a few patients (and Healers) to stare at him in surprise. He threw his arms around Hermione, enveloping her in a tight hug. Hermione's mouth hung open in a mixture of shock and delight, her eyes glistening with unstoppable tears.

"Two weeks." Draco muttered. He felt drained, empty, as if there was no life left in him. Was their any chance that they could be together? That she would ditch Weasley and they would be together despite their rocky past? Never.

Still, a man can dream.

"I'm gonna be a DAD!" Ron's distant cry sounded to him through his thoughts.

Now, his dreams were shattered. He watched the pair, laughing, hugging, crying and jumping with joy. His heart ached. Ached with desire for the girl he had treated so poorly in the past and now new he could never have.

He informed Hermione that the combination of stress and her relatively new pregnancy had been the source of her collapse and that she should refrain from involving herself in stressful situations at work for the next months of her maternity, battling to keep the hurt from seeping into his voice. On the outside, he appeared nonchalant, but on the inside, he was wounded.

"Thanks, Malfoy." Ron sneered, as the couple prepared to leave. Would this be the last time Draco would ever see Hermione? His heart ached at the possibility. A voice in his head screamed, no!

Ron left immediately, but Hermione hesitated. She hovered beside Draco, who pretended to busy himself with the paperwork of another patient. Of course, he was aware of her presence, but did nothing. He had nothing to say.

"Draco?"

"Mmm?"

Hermione took a step towards the Healer so that she was merely inches away from him. He turned, surprised to find himself staring into those enchanting auburn eyes. She brushed her soft, supple lips against his pale cheek, her wild hair tickling his neck. She was so close, he fought the urge to wrap an arm around her waist and hold her to him. Draco inhaled her floral scent, before he became aware that she was suddenly drifting away from him.

"Thank you."

He nodded at her words. In an instant, she had turned on her heel and swept down the corridor after her husband and the soon-to-be father of her child, leaving a stunned Draco clutching his cheek, his skin still tingling from her sweet kiss.

Well, that's it! I hope you enjoyed reading! Please leave a review, I always love to here what you think.

Love,

RavenclawCookie