Author's note: THANK YOU TO THOSE WHO ARE FOLLOWING THIS STORY AND MY OTHER STORY AND I'D APPRECIATE YOUR THOUGHTS IN A REVIEW!
Trigger: rape ('off screen' mostly, non explicit)
disclaimer: i own nothing except the computer through which i write ;)
To Love You More
Chapter 2
-December 22, 1996
Hermione was, once again, packing her trunk. As much as she loved Hogwarts like home, she was ready to leave for Christmas Holiday tomorrow. This past term had just been so stressful, and she had been so busy! Now, she was looking forward to relaxing at home.
Her Exams were over, and the Yule ball last night had been a huge success, according to Parvati. Hermione had, of course, as Prefect, done her duty to help with the planning, decorating, and cleaning up afterwards, but she had not attended. The night before the Ball had been Slughorn's Christmas party, at which McLaggen had been so handsy that Hermione was completely turned off and couldn't bring herself to go with him to the Ball (to which he had secured her as his date when she had asked him to be her date for Slughorn's party). McLaggen wouldn't take kindly to being stood up, she'd thought, but she hadn't given it a second thought once she'd made her decision. 'THE he' or not, he's not going to be given the opportunity to fondle me! He'll have to behave himself if he wants the privilege of my company, she'd thought with an indignant huff.
She also hadn't been able to bring herself to go the Ball where she knew Ron and Lavender would be bumping and grinding and swaying together while kissing all night; cowardly though it may have been, she hadn't cared. She had stayed up in her dormitory, writing in her journal. She'd written so much in her journal this term that she was in need of a new one already.
As she finished packing all that she could until the final packing before heading to Hogsmeade Station tomorrow at 11am, an owl came to her dormitory window and knocked with its beak. It was almost as beautiful as Hedwig, though it was not a snowy owl. She was surprised to find that the owl carried a message for her, as she rarely received owl posts and never any from an owl as beautiful as this one. She was further surprised to see that the letter was from Professor Dumbledore.
Miss Granger, I trust you remember that time is of the essence! Please inform me right away when the Prophecy's events commence.
-A. Dumbledore
Hermione groaned. She had almost been able to put the blasted Prophecy out of her mind; she was going to have a break from school, so why shouldn't I be able to take a break from the annoying Prophecy? she rationalized. She rested on her bed, enjoying the quiet in her dormitory, for once.
Shortly thereafter, another owl knocked at the window! This owl looked like a school owl: plain and brown. She gave the owl a treat and untied the parchment message from its leg. She scanned to rolled-up message for its recipient's name. This letter was also for her!
Granger,
As you are well aware, you did agree to help me with my report, and you have failed to do so. As the Train leaves tomorrow morning, we have no choice but to meet today. Meet me in the Library after lunch.
D.M.
She groaned—again. Arrogant git! But, she had been so busy the last couple of weeks that she had completely forgotten about helping him with his report. They'd be lucky to complete it before Holiday as it was already noon, she thought, and so they'd have to work on it all of today, and probably tomorrow on the train, if Draco didn't object, to get it finished in time. She grumbled to herself all the way down to the crowded Common Room to meet up with Harry and Ginny for lunch.
"Hermione, we thought we'd play outside in the snow after lunch today, you know, like is our tradition every Christmas at the Burrow, and as you won't be there this year…" Harry said, giving Hermione his version of 'puppy dog eyes.' Harry was definitely not happy that Hermione was choosing to skip the Burrow this year, and she felt bad for letting him down, but she just could not be near Ron for one more second.
"Sorry, Harry, but I'm tutoring Malfoy in the library all afternoon today directly after lunch, but I hope you have fun."
Hermione was heading up the marble stairs after her lunch when an owl approached her, landing on the bannister. "Another one of you? Two aren't enough for one day?" she teased. She took the message from the plain, brown owl's leg, saying apologetically, "Sorry, I don't have any treats with me," and unrolled the parchment. Ahh, I do love the smell of new parchment.
The letter simply said,
Change of plan. Meet me at the Room of Requirement not the Library.
"That git Malfoy can't even bothering to sign his name," she scoffed. Sighing, she changed her course, heading up to the Room.
Hours later, Hermione stumbled along a corridor. She was disoriented, sleepy, and uncomfortable. She knew she was near the Room of Requirement because she recognized the tapestry depicting Barnabus the Barmy teaching trolls to dance. She moved along slowly, trying to get her bearings so she could make her way to Gryffindor Tower; she couldn't remember, though, in which direction to go.
She was alone in the corridor for a long time, until she heard a voice, which sounded far away and like it was echoing, calling out her name. She recognized the voice and turned toward it, blinking repetitiously, having to concentrate to keep her eyes focused on him.
Harry noticed right away how disheveled her appearance was. She wasn't wearing her robe, and he wondered where her wand was. He noticed that the zipper of her skirt was not perfectly centered in the middle of her back as it always was; it was instead off to the side near her hip. Her shirt was untucked, and she was carrying her shoes—well, one shoe, as she had dropped the other a few feet behind her. Harry knew that this outward appearance of her spoke volumes to what her inner state was. He looked around the corridor but saw no one and heard nothing.
"Oh! Harry!" Hermione sobbed, as she stumbled to Harry, he running to embrace her. She buried her wet, red face in his chest.
"What happened, Hermione?" Harry asked with forced-calm after a few minutes of holding a crying Hermione and trying to decide what to do.
Hermione looked up, looking into his face, searching his eyes, as if trying to find the answer in them. "I'm….I'm not sure, Harry."
Harry, while tucking a large, folded parchment—The Marauders' Map—into his robe, said coaxingly, "Come on, Hermione, lets get you to Madam Pomfrey, ok?"
Hermione nodded and, clutching onto Harry's robe with a death-grip, allowed him to lead her to the Hospital Wing.
Down the hall from Hermione and Harry, peeking around the corner, and observing the whole scene between the two Gryffindors, was Draco Malfoy. As Harry led Hermione along the seventh floor, Draco walked in the opposite direction toward the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy.
Madam Pomfrey took one, long, scrutinizing look at Hermione's entire person and said sternly, "Please wait outside the Wing, Mr. Potter."
Harry was about to protest, but he did as he was bid, taking one last look at Hermione as Pomfrey led Hermione from him to a bed surrounded by privacy screens. He walked out through the double doors of the Hospital Wing, trying to hold in his tears. He heard the door locks click behind him.
It was a long time that Harry waited for Madam Pomfrey to come back out to him. She peeked her head out through the doors and put up a hand as Harry started toward the doors, saying, "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger is doing well, but she needs her rest. Please come back tomorrow morning before leaving for the train when Miss Granger will be ready to join you." Harry was about to protest, but the Madam's expression was formidable, so instead he asked her to give Hermione his best. She nodded politely before closing and locking the doors again. As Harry turned the corner in the corridor just outside the Hospital Wing, Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore came sweeping by him and entered the Wing, using silent and wandless magic to unlock the doors, before Harry could utter a greeting.
Harry wanted to know why she hadn't been in the Library tutoring Malfoy as she said she would; his own plans had changed, so he understood that hers possibly had too, but he still wanted an explanation of what had happened to her. Realizing that he wasn't going to get any answers from Hermione tonight, he pulled out his Marauders' Map, trying to locate Malfoy again.
He was nowhere to be found.
Madam Pomfrey sat at Hermione's side for what felt like ages to Hermione, offering Hermione a comforting presence as Hermione's mentation cleared and the fear ebbed away. In the interim, the Madam performed a magical physical assessment using her wand on Hermione. Her suspicions of what had caused Hermione to turn up in the state in which she had were confirmed. When Hermione proved to Pomfrey that she was completely coherent, the Healer spoke quietly to Hermione, asking her what she remembered, and then told her what all her assessment revealed.
It then hit Hermione—like a ton of bricks—why she was feeling so uncomfortable, and she cried—hard. She sobbed, and groaned, and screamed into her pillow. Still, Hermione denied that it was as bad as Madam Pomfrey was indicating; Pomfrey had assumed that Hermione had been raped, but, although Pomfrey was correct, Hermione didn't see it that way. Hermione recalled that she had been a willing participant. Pomfrey was astounded by Hermione's declaration, but decided not to press the young, forlorn witch for more details at that moment.
The Madam then assisted Hermione into the bathroom tub in the Hospital Wing to help her relax and to ease the pain—and to wash away the fluids on her body that were making her feel more disgusting than she'd ever felt in her life. There was more blood and more 'other stuff,' as Hermione called it, than she had imagined there would be. Pomfrey assured her it was normal—as were the feelings she was having about it.
She relaxed while in the tub, and she felt much better physically and emotionally after cleansing. She wasn't feeling scared anymore; her mentation fully clear, she processed it all while soaking in the lavender-scented water. This really shouldn't be so much of a shock to her, she thought. After all, she had known it would come to pass; she had known she had to let it. And despite the way it had happened, she found relief in knowing that the biggest problem she'd had with the Prophecy—engaging in sex—was now overcome.
She laid down to sleep after Madam Pomfrey gave her a sleeping draught (this is getting to be ridiculous, Hermione thought of the two draughts Pomfrey had given her in the last six months). She lay there, still not comprehending how she could have done what she had done with whom she had done it! She hadn't even considered him to be a potential 'THE HE' of which the Prophecy spoke! She didn't love him—or even like him—AT ALL!
In the morning, Madam Pomfrey brought in her breakfast tray, which had just been delivered to the Wing by a house elf. Hermione hadn't had an appetite last night for dinner, but this morning she was starving. She allowed her mind to replay the events of yesterday as she ate her breakfast.
She had met Malfoy outside the Room of the Requirement per his letter sent by owl. She'd felt tension, standing outside of that particular place with him, so she'd made a joke about teaching him some Defense Against the Dark Arts (referencing the DA and Draco's part in dismantling it last year) after the Muggle Studies report was finished. 'He's looking at me funny,' she had thought, 'like he doesn't know what I'm talking about.' Malfoy had then walked by the wall and mumbled something three times before a door opened in front of them. Then he had opened the door and said, smiling, "Ladies first."
Immediately upon entering, Hermione was gently pushed further inside before she could yell at him for what she saw before her in the Room. A pink perfume bottle was thrust in her face, Malfoy spraying its contents, and she was unable to stop herself from inhaling it. She started berating him, but soon she was smiling at him. She smelled freshly mown grass, parchment, and….plastic. She was looking Malfoy in the eyes, thinking how beautiful they were; looking at his mouth, thinking how she'd like to kiss his lips; looking at his platinum hair, thinking how soft it appeared and wondering if she would get a chance to find out for sure; thinking of how FIT he looked in just his black school trousers and his school dress shirt; thinking of how FINE he looked in his Quidditch uniform; thinking how smart he was, how sweet and kind he was, and how she wanted him to hold her, kiss her, and…
Malfoy then did start kissing her, touching her, undressing her, leading her to the bed in the small, dark room lit with floating candles and then laying her down on it. She was not thinking of the Prophecy as she allowed Malfoy to do what he did…..as she did what she did; all she was thinking about was how in love with Draco Malfoy she was….and how much she was enjoying what he was doing to her….and what she wanted him to do next.
After reminiscing, Hermione replaying the events over and over, she realized that the feelings she had acted upon in the Room could only be the cause of one thing: a love potion. The pink perfume bottle must have contained love potion! I know just who to thank for that! She silently cursed Fred and George, blaming them for what she had lost and for the manner in which she had lost it.
Pomfrey came back a little later, while Hermione was still fuming, bringing Hermione back from her reverie of the events of last night, to take away the breakfast tray and to bring in a cloak and a wand.
"These were found by a student and brought here last night," Pomfrey said as she laid Hermione's cloak and wand on the bedside table. Hermione hadn't even realized they had been missing. She nodded to Pomfrey in thanks.
"Are you ready for the exam, Miss Granger?"
Hermione nodded again, taking a big breath in as she prepared herself to comes to terms with something else besides the loss of her virginity.
"You remember that it may be too early to tell, even with magic?" the Madam asked, hopefully. Hermione nodded a third time. Pomfrey waved her wand over Hermione's lower abdomen, muttering a charm, and then looking solemnly at Hermione. Hermione was so nervous she was shaking.
"Am I pregnant, Madam Pomfrey?"
The train ride back to London was better than the past twenty-four hours had been for Hermione, but only by a little. Sharing a compartment with Harry, Ron, Neville, and Luna (Ginny was in a separate compartment with her boyfriend, Dean Thomas) was pleasant, but Hermione's mind was elsewhere. Finally, 'Won-Won' was pulled away to go sit with 'Lav-Lav' and her friends in their compartment, and Harry not so subtlety indicated to Neville and Luna that he needed to speak to Hermione in private.
Harry had collected Hermione from the Hospital Wing this morning and helped her to Gryffindor Tower. He had helped her finish packing her trunk and had escorted her down to the Entrance Hall, where they had awaited a carriage that would take them to Hogsmeade Station. He hadn't asked her anything about the previous day, nor had Hermione volunteered anything. She had been almost entirely silent, and Harry had noticed that she kept her cloak hood up, shielding her face as if trying to hide it. She had stuck to him like glue while outside of her dormitory, never letting go of his hand. They had gotten some surprised looks from other students, but Hermione hadn't noticed, and Harry couldn't have cared any less. Everyone already assumes we are a couple, anyway, he had thought, shrugging it off.
After their friends left them alone in the train compartment, Harry turned to face Hermione with his right hand on her upper left arm and his left hand reaching for her right.
"Ok, Hermione. We need to talk about yesterday. I was up all night worrying about you. I couldn't find you anywhere after lunch…your name wasn't anywhere on the Map until just a few minutes before I came across you in the corridor. Where were you? Why did you not meet Malfoy in the Library? What happened, Hermione?"
"Harry…" she paused to take a deep breath and to firm up her resolve to tell him the truth. She had decided this morning that she would confide in him (and only him), hoping for the best. Regardless of how close their friendship was and how much she trusted Harry, she had a tiny bit of fear that their friendship may not be able to survive this—that he wouldn't be able to look past what she had done. She bit her lip in contemplation; Harry knew what that meant.
"Hermione, you're my best friend. You can tell me anything," Harry said sincerely, gently squeezing his hands where they held on to her. Hermione nodded.
"Thank you. I know, and I love you for it, Harry. You're my best friend, too," smiled Hermione. She took another deep breath. "I was in the Room of Requirement….I met Malfoy there, not at the Library….he had sent an owl with the change of meeting place. He was the one who asked the Room to provide what it did….which was a small, dim room with only a….bed." Hermione paused, looking down in her lap where Harry's hand held hers and taking another deep breath. "I was there for tutoring, I swear, but before I knew it, we were not doing anything of the sort. Malfoy used a love potion on me—the spray kind—George's and Fred's—and, well, we….um….had….intercourse." Hermione whispered the last two words, and kept her gaze down, waiting for the fallout of her actions, while tears dripped down her face. She waited for Harry to say something; he said nothing. She anticipated Harry relinquishing her from his grip in revulsion; he didn't. She looked up, tentatively, into Harry's face. He looked ill. Finally he spoke.
"I'm so, so very sorry, Hermione—I….I'm so sorry I wasn't there to protect you. I know you would not have…..allowed that….to happen under normal circumstances. I'd bet my Quidditch Captain spot that you must have been under the influence of a love potion, and I'm guessing that there was another one used on you, too."
Harry said the last part as a statement, but it was a question, so he waited for confirmation. Hermione sniffed and nodded; Madam Pomfrey had told her she had been given a sedative potion, probably one that had dissolved in whatever she had been given to drink. Hermione had no recollection of drinking anything, however.
Harry spoke first. "I know you think it was Malfoy, but it couldn't have been him, Hermione—not that I'm saying he could be totally innocent in all of this," Harry said softly, but with conviction.
"Harry! I am not daft! It was him! I remember looking into his eyes! They are very….unmistakable! I remember everything clearly! He made the Room what it was on purpose and used a potion and a drug on me without my consent!" she said indignantly. "He raped me," she cried out, admitting the truth to herself.
Harry listened patiently, tears starting to well up in his striking green eyes at the pain etched on Hermione's face and manifested in her voice. He nodded, acknowledging her feelings.
"He was in the Library….the whole time. I saw it on the Map. I've been watching his movements on the Map for a while now….The Map doesn't lie, Hermione," he whispered just loud enough for Hermione to hear, then pulled her into a hug, as Hermione wept.
Ten minutes later, they pulled apart. Harry looked at Hermione expectantly, waiting for her to voice her conclusions about what had actually occurred. She did not disappoint; But then, Harry thought, she never does.
Hermione knew that the Map never lied; she knew Harry was right. But, she felt, it was just so easy to blame Malfoy, and with the Map's input, she knew she couldn't. She further knew, and was loathe to admit, that she'd been raped by a stranger—a stranger who had gone to great lengths to deceive her.
"Someone used Polyjuice potion to look like Malfoy," she whispered.
Harry slowly nodded, feeling his gut wrench. "Do you know who would do that to you, Hermione?" he asked gently.
Hermione gave it some thought then sadly said, "I have no idea…." She reigned in her drifting thoughts. "Harry….I have something else to tell you." Tears were pooling in her eyes. She told him about her Prophecy and the results of the Conception Analysis Charm Madam Pomfrey had performed on her.
The trolley came by as Hermione finished her tale, and Harry bought Hermione her favorite sweets; they sat in silence, only minimally enjoying their treats, for a long time.
Hermione broke the silence and said, sniffling, "I'm afraid the Prophecy is ruined now. I'm afraid for you, Ron, and me. I'm afraid of what will Dumbledore say. I'm afraid of what my parents will say. I'm afraid to have a baby, Harry!" She broke out in fresh tears. Her face was red, her eyes swollen. Harry's heart broke for her.
"Don't be afraid, Hermione. I'll be with you through this, no matter what."
It took Harry the rest of the train ride back to London to come to terms with everything that had happened and with everything that was still to happen. She is only seventeen! She should not have had this happen to her, Prophecy or not! She should not have this burden to bear! Well, neither should I, but that's not likely to change, either. Not wanting to upset Hermione further, he kept his anger inside of him, vowing to find and then curse whomever it was who had hurt Hermione.
As London began to come into view out the compartment windows, there came a knock on the compartment door. Hermione turned her head from the door, hastily wiping her tears away. Harry quickly wiped his eyes, too, but could do nothing about his swollen eyes and face, before standing and unlocking and opening the door.
"Whoa, Potter. There are no Dementors here, so what is it that's got you so…" Draco said in a pompous voice, trailing off when he noticed Hermione's unmistakable unruly, curly hair (looking more wild today than usual) behind Harry. He couldn't see her face, but he noticed that she tensed at the sound of Draco's voice.
"Give this to Granger," Draco ordered and then walked away. Harry handed the parchment to Hermione. She read it aloud and then said, dryly, "Well, Happy Christmas to me. Harry, will you carry back my reply?"
Harry had decided, in the hours while holding Hermione in their compartment, not to go directly to the Burrow for Christmas as had been his plan; he went home with Hermione (needless to say Ron was furious with Hermione). Harry stayed a few days to include Christmas Day and Boxing day. He was a welcome comfort to Hermione, even making her laugh a few times. They watched their favorite Muggle television shows and movies, played Muggle board and card games, played outside in the snow, and had family meals with Hermione's parents. It was like old times, Hermione thought. Hermione's parents were thrilled that Harry was visiting; they had always wanted more children, especially a son (not that they had ever said that to Hermione), and Harry had become close to that for them. Harry craved a loving family, especially now with Sirius gone, and he had come to think of Hermione's family as his just as he thought the same of Ron's.
Stealing moments away from her parents, Hermione and Harry talked much about the Prophecy. Harry had questions, much like the ones Hermione had asked of Dumbledore when she'd first learned of it. Hermione answered them all for him. Neither knew, and both wished they did know, how Hermione's baby would accomplish what the Prophecy foretold. How would its birth have any impact on the War? How would a mere baby help defeat Voldemort? They made guesses, but neither of them could come up with any solid answers. Hermione felt that if she knew the answer, she'd be able to handle what she'd just gone through (and what was to come). She knew that dealing with a pregnancy at this time in her life would take tremendous amount of fortitude, and right now she felt faint-hearted and cowardly. Not usually one to cry, she was not happy when her lack of answers forced tears from her eyes.
Maybe Madam Pomfrey's exam was wrong, she thought hopefully on a particularly emotional day. Clearly in the Denial Stage of Grief, she insisted that she make a run to the local drugstore. Harry accompanied her, not knowing what she was going for. He bought chips, candy bars, and soda (snacks that were nowhere to be found in the Grangers' pantry) and was thoroughly embarrassed when he saw Hermione (looking as embarrassed as he was) walking toward the check out with three pregnancy tests. Though she handled it with all of the courage a seventeen-year-old could, she made Harry checkout separately from her, pretending she didn't know him, so he wouldn't feel the embarrassment or have to endure the pitying and disparaging looks she was enduring.
She was devastated when she learned from the instructions with the tests that she had to wait about two weeks to take them. She threw the tests in the cabinet in her en suite bathroom and cried—again—on Harry's shoulder.
Harry, wanting to help his friend in any way he could, suggested that having a family would be wonderful for Hermione, and that he thought having someone to love and to be loved in return was everything. Hermione certainly understood his point of view—she had wonderful parents who loved her more than life itself.
Hermione worked herself into a tizzy, thinking about motherhood, and how she would finish school next year after having a baby, and how she would afford a baby with no way of earning an income while in school. Harry had no answer except that he had faith that she could do anything. "You'll be a brilliant mother, Hermione," he told her confidently.
"Harry," Hermione said timidly after a bit, "What's it going to be like when everybody at Hogwarts realizes I'm pregnant?"
Pregnant girls were unheard of at Hogwarts, although Madam Pomfrey had gently told Hermione in the Hospital Wing after administering her Pregnancy exam that, "You're not the first, sweet girl, and you won't be the last."
Years ago, Hermione had been told by her grandmother that girls who found themselves 'in the family way' in the Muggle world were sometimes removed from school when their pregnancy began to show. She was terrified that would happen to her in the Wizarding world, and then she'd be alone in the Wizarding world without a complete education or she'd be relegated to live without magic in the Muggle world with her parents and uneducated still.
Poor Harry had no answer for Hermione except, "Hermione, I'll stand by you through anything, even if the whole of Hogwarts is against you. Just as you have done for me."
Hermione knew that was true; she'd stuck by Harry through everything, and she knew her best friend (Harry, anyway, if not Ron, too) would reciprocate—not just out of duty but because of the exceptional integrity Harry possessed.
"And, Harry, Madam Pomfrey said the baby will be due sometime in the early part of September, so I may have to miss the start of the term," she said in a tremulous voice, and Harry could tell she was getting worked up again. He promptly took her to the market to buy ice cream and chocolate; It always makes her feel better when she's grouchy during her 'time of the month,' he reasoned.
It worked.
"Poor Harry," she told him later as they watched her favorite movie and indulged in her favorite treats. "What a horrible holiday this must be for you, being stuck here with me moping and crying on you."
Harry just shook his head earnestly and hugged her to his side.
On the thirtieth, Hermione helped Harry pack up his things from the guest room. He was to go to the Burrow for the remainder of the Holiday, which was about ten days. Hermione could see how excited he was to being going to see Ginny, and she was happy for him, but she was sorely going to miss her best friend. She wasn't looking forward to being lonely at times during the week ahead; her parents, being dentists and also the owners of their small dental practice, had to work a few days of Hermione's school holiday. But, Hermione thought in an attempt to lift her spirits, she and her mum were going to go shopping after the Weasleys came to pick up Harry. Hermione knew she couldn't trust herself to be around the twins yet, so when the doorbell rang, Harry hugged her goodbye (Hermione reluctantly let go of him) and answered the door for her. Hermione was standing behind the door between the foyer and the kitchen, expecting to hear the raucous voices of Fred and George as they greeted Harry.
Instead, she heard an unnaturally long silence then, "What the bloody hell are you doing here?" Harry said in a shocked voice. Hermione was about to scold Harry for swearing when she heard,
"I could ask you the same thing, Potter."
Hermione, already knowing to whom that voice belonged, came into the foyer to prevent a fight. Malfoy's pale, pointed face was scowling at Harry; Harry's face was turned to Hermione and was wrought with worry.
"Malfoy? Didn't you get my message? I said the thirty-first," she scolded, then turned quickly to Harry to explain, "It's the tutoring thing."
She had expected to see Draco—tomorrow—to help him with his report (and to phish for information regarding Draco's suspected death Eater status for Harry). She had known since the train ride to London from Hogsmeade that she'd being seeing him soon, and she knew it wasn't REALLY him who had raped her, but seeing him now was making her experience some post-traumatic stress symptoms. While Hermione was speechless at the moment, Harry and Draco were not, and they were trading insults that Hermione really wasn't registering.
Hearing footfalls on the steps up to the front porch, Hermione, Harry and Draco turned toward the sound and noticed that Fred and George were now standing a few steps below Draco. The look of surprise on the twins' faces lasted the length of time as it took to bat and eyelash, and then their famous, mischievous, identical grins were plastered on their identical faces. Considering Draco Malfoy was standing with Harry Potter at Hermione Granger's house, Hermione couldn't really fault the boys for taking advantage of the situation to have some fun, but just seeing them turned her irrational nervousness at seeing Malfoy into anger at the creators of the potion that was used on her.
"So the third part to your Gryffindor trio finally realized how superfluous he is, then?" Draco asked with raised brows and a smirk. Then in a conspiring whisper, he said, "Does The Weasel know he was not invited to your sleepover with Potter, Granger?"
Harry knew swift action was needed before Hermione did or said something she'd regret. He also wanted to protect her; he felt so guilty, however irrationally so, for letting her be raped. So Harry said quickly as he gently moved Hermione away from the twins and Malfoy, "Malfoy, Hermione's note did tell you the thirty-first, which is tomorrow, so sod off. Fred, George, I just need my trunk and I'm ready to apparate with you to the Burrow." Harry strode to his trunk.
"Oi, oh Chosen One," said Fred. "You are a wizard. Why don't you just use Magic?"
"Oh, Fred," said George. "You forget that our ickle Harrykins isn't of age yet—"
"—and he can't use Magic without incurring the wrath of the Ministry," finished Fred. "Well, then, The Boy Who Can't Use Magic—"
"Let we REAL Wizards help you with that trunk," George said.
"Be careful!" Hermione hissed. "This is Muggle London, you prats!"
"Just hold it with me and we'll apparate from here," said Harry to the twins. Realizing Malfoy hadn't moved, Harry said menacingly, "Why are you still here, Malfoy?"
Draco, who stood leaned up against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, smirked arrogantly and rolled his eyes. "Goodbye Potter. Have fun at the Weasel Hole."
"If you so much as think about calling Hermione a you-know-what, I'll hex you within an inch of your life, Malfoy. And I'll do worse if you do so much as put a finger on her."
Draco looked shocked. "Why in the name of all things unholy would you think I'd do that, Potter?"
"Right. Let's go," Harry said to the twins. "Hermione, constant vigilance, yeah?" He then tilted his head toward the doorway.
Hermione, who was biting her nails, nodded. "Right. Malfoy, tomorrow," she reiterated and closed the door on him as he looked like he was about to protest.
When Hermione her mother backed her car out of the driveway just a few minutes later, the front porch was devoid of Malfoy. He was nowhere to be seen, and Hermione let out a huge sigh of relief as she grinned.
"Mione, are you sure your new clothes are the right size? They seemed a bit big on you, honey," Hermione's mother said as they unpacked the car of all of their purchases. Hermione had missed hearing her mother calling her 'Mione'; she was the only one who did, and it made Hermione feel special and loved, like she always had felt when she was a little girl.
I'll have to keep that in mind when I'm 'the mom.'
"It's the new style, Mum," Hermione said, as she silently berated herself for lying to her mother. She had intentionally bought a size up from her normal size in preparation for an expanding belly and breasts, let alone anything else that may get bigger….I really must find a book about that before too long, she mentally grumbled. She carried her bags from the car and into the house, setting them down in the hallway off of the kitchen before entering the kitchen to help her mother start dinner.
Her father, Charles, a bulky man with brown eyes and brown hair, was sitting at the kitchen table facing her. A thin blonde man was sitting across from her father, only the back of his head facing Hermione. "Oh, you're back, Hermione. Your friend has been waiting for you for hours— but we have had tea and a rather nice visit, haven't we, Draco?" Her dad said, smiling, to his guest. Hermione's mouth fell open in disbelief as panic and horror started to set in.
"Absolutely, sir. I haven't had such a nice chat with tea in a while," Draco said to Mr. Granger, attempting (and succeeding) at an angelic, boy-next-door voice, which Hermione knew was only an act to anger her further.
Then Draco turned around, with a smirk on his face, winking at Hermione. He just winked at me! Hermione thought, scandalized, but blushing nonetheless.
"Good to finally see you home, Granger," Draco said. Hermione could not find words.
"Well, Granger, let's get working on our report, shall we?"
Hermione led Draco into the study off of the foyer, keeping the door open.
"What are you doing in my house?" she hissed quietly so her parents wouldn't be alerted to her impolite treatment of a guest in their home. "How long have you been here? Did you go snooping around while I was gone? Did you go into my room?" Hermione's voice was nearly a shrill during the last sentence. It took all of her strength at that moment for Hermione to keep in the forefront of her mind the fact that her attacker had only looked like Malfoy and that Malfoy really hadn't done anything to deserve her fear or anger (recently, anyway). She was, however, extremely annoyed by his literal invasion of her privacy.
"Calm down, Granger," Draco said irritably. "I walked around Hampstead for a few hours and then came back, and by that time your father had come home. And no, I wouldn't dream of going into your bedroom. Get your mind out of the gutter, Granger." He said the last sentence in a suggestive tone while he wagged his eyebrows, but then flashed her a smirk.
He had, in fact, wandered the house and gone into Hermione's bedroom while Mr. Granger had been on a long telephone call with relatives. And although he could not have conceived that his innuendo was (and the knowledge that he had been in her bedroom would be) distressing to Hermione, they were—given her recent experiences with a Draco-look-alike in a bedroom.
"Why, Malfoy," she asked with clenched teeth and fists, "were you in my house, chatting with my father and having tea? I told you we would meet up tomorrow."
Draco feigned a look of innocence and said matter-of-factly, "My report is on Muggle Family Life, Granger. I was immersing myself in the Muggle home, which is, as you have told me, the center of the Muggle family life. Now, let's get to it, shall we?"
That evening, Hermione's parents invited Draco to stay for dinner. Draco seemed at tad uneasy at first, but he surprised Hermione by complimenting dinner and asking many questions about the Grangers' home and the elder Grangers' jobs. He had never heard of dentistry….or doctors….or electric instruments used to clean and pull teeth; he looked repulsed (which made Hermione irritated).
After dinner, Hermione suggested they play board games, thinking Malfoy would feel too superior for that and would excuse himself and go home.
"Granger, that sounds like a jolly way to spend the evening, and I'd certainly love to join in," (Ah ha, here's where he'll make an excuse to leg it out of here!) "as I could learn a lot for our report about Muggle family home life that way—that is, if you, Dr. and Dr. Granger don't object to me intruding upon more of your evening?" he asked in an agreeable tone, politely using his dinner napkin to dab at the corners of his mouth and smiling.
She had never heard him speak so charmingly; she knew, of course, that it was all an act, evidenced by the tiny smirk and sideways glance he gave her. Slimy Slytherin. And she couldn't help but agree that he was right that his report would benefit from staying for games. Git.
"Oh, Draco, please call us Mr. and Mrs. Granger….and we're happy to include you! We won't have to be a threesome then," Jean said excitedly. "Mione, grab the four-player games from the top shelf of the game cabinet." Draco leered (at Hermione and unnoticed by Jean) at Jean's choice of words, causing Hermione to roll her eyes and mutter, "Oh, grow up."
As Hermione's family were game-lovers, and they rarely had the opportunity to play 4-player games, they had a nice time. "We had so much fun playing on teams while Harry was here, and we're so glad we have another chance to do so," Jean said, smiling at Draco. Draco nodded politely at Mrs. Granger, but his face looked pinched as he smiled. The mention of Harry's name, Hermione realized and smiled; after that, she tried to bring Harry's name into the conversation whenever she could. Draco's reactions did not disappoint, much to Hermione's delight.
Draco was unfamiliar with each game they played, but picked up the rules easily and seemed to enjoy himself—as much as Hermione had ever seen him enjoy anything besides emotionally torturing someone, that is.
The next day, right on time at 1 'o clock (he had declined to come earlier as he 'wanted a lie-in for once'), Draco arrived at Hermione's home, ready for tutelage. Hermione's parents, having taken that day (and several others) off from their thriving dental practice to spend with Hermione, were somewhat miffed that she couldn't devote all of her time to them, but they were not ones to impede education or anything academic. Hermione was not afraid or nervous to be around Malfoy (any more than the usual, that is) after her horrible incident with his 'look-alike' while her parents were home.
It was all working out well; she thought by the end of today or tomorrow, Malfoy would have enough to complete his report. Tutoring Malfoy wasn't without some perks, either; Hermione took advantage of having Draco around. She made Draco experience 'the Muggle way' every chance she could. She made him help her with laundry, shoveling snow, cleaning, cooking, taking out the rubbish, and grocery shopping.
He surprised her by wanting to clean his teeth "the Muggle way." His parents were over the moon at that, pulling out any and all samples, pamphlets, and dental tools they had on hand to show off. Charles even went so far as to invite Draco to the office for a 'complimentary cleaning.' Hermione laughed out loud as she envisioned Draco in the dental chair and her parents coming at him with sharp and whirring dental instruments. The other three looked at her like she was barmy, but she kept laughing until she felt tears leaking.
Hermione had enjoyed forcing Draco to help around the house the best she could, but she stopped putting Draco to work after she had endured a nightmare while making him help her wash the lunch dishes. Hermione made him wash the dishes by hand, even though the Grangers' kitchen had a dishwasher. He doesn't know that, though, Hermione thought with an evil smirk on her face—and even letting out a snort—as she had not yet explained to him what a dishwasher was. He was drying the clean dishes (as he had refused to get his hands dirty washing them) when she noticed his hands for the first time. They were long, slender, and, of course, pale.
Seeker's hands, she thought. Then she thought of him in his Quidditch uniform, holding the Snitch….then of his hands holding her….then of his body without the Quidditch uniform—naked! She felt herself blushing and feeling hotter than she should be—even while washing dishes—and so she quickly turned her thoughts to Harry's Uncle Vernon instead.
That did the trick, she thought as her mind and body were repulsed by the thoughts of the rotund man. But, still she wondered about Draco and Quidditch; why wasn't he playing this year? So, she asked him.
He seemed nervous for a second, but then said, "I find it more important to focus my efforts on academics rather than childish games, Granger."
I definitely agree with that, she thought, but still she had a feeling that Draco wasn't telling the truth. Draco turned the tables on her, asking Hermione a personal question next.
"So Potter stayed here for Christmas….That damned—er—blooming poltergeist Peeves was saying 'Potty loves Looney' before we left for holiday—or was he here because Potty loves YOU?" he probed in a serious tone, and then in a low tone he asked, "Did you let him into your room?" His face told her he was teasing.
Hermione would have laughed at the absurdity of Draco's presumptions and innuendo, but she thought instead of why Harry had stayed with her, and she became too sad to laugh, falling silent as she worked to compose herself.
"Harry is my best friend, nothing more. I've told you that before, Malfoy."
"It appears that you aren't quite happy with that arrangement, Granger. You know, you two would probably have adorable, black-and-bushy-haired tots—with that famous scar, too, quite possibly," Draco said in a melodic tone, taunting her again.
Hermione was torn between arguing the point that the scar wouldn't be hereditary and allowing herself to dwell on the idea of her having 'tots.' Instead, she gathered up her composure and used her quick wit to silence Draco on the subject.
"It's exactly what I want and need, Malfoy. I find it more important to focus my efforts on academics rather than childish, romantic games, " she responded, repeating words he had recently used, in a tone that allowed no room for argument.
"Touche, Granger."
Hermione grinned.
She regretted her decision to wash dishes with Draco after his bothersome personal questions regarding her and Harry and twenty minutes filled with the spoiled brat's complaints about being 'coerced into servant work' and comments like 'Haven't Muggles yet figured out a better way to do this?' Hermione happily showed the dishwasher to him after the dishes had all been washed by hand.
The elder Grangers invited him to stay for dinner again that night. After dinner, it was Draco who suggested the idea for entertainment.
"Mrs. Granger, you have an excellent pianoforte in your lounge. Do you play?" He didn't know it, but he was complimenting Jean's favorite material possession, her baby grand piano. What is it with these Slytherin instincts?
"Well, thank you, Draco. That piano was my grandmother's, so it is it an antique, and I love it. I do play," Jean admitted smiling. "Hermione plays, too. And you, Draco?"
Hermione was on edge in an instant, silently praying no one would ask her to play. Draco replied to Mrs. Granger, "No, I don't play. Yes, she's told me that she wanted to stick her nose in a book rather than practice, and so she's not very proficient." He remembers?
Jean agreed. "Well, she really should practice more, but I understand that it's impossible while she's at school, as Hogwarts has no piano, and I know how busy her studies keep her."
Hermione went red; Draco smirked at her.
"Mione, you did play well for us and Harry on Christmas, Moppet," Jean said, smiling, encouragingly to Hermione. Hermione went redder as she saw Draco's eyebrows rise to his hairline and his eyes light up. No, no, no….
"Well, Mrs. Granger, I think that to experience this part of Muggle family life would be quite beneficial to my report, and I'd love to hear you and Miss Granger play, if you wouldn't mind it terribly?"
So, Mrs. Granger, who loved an audience while playing the piano, and who had become quite proficient over the last few years, played a piece for Draco. And then, of course, Hermione's parents prodded her to play a piece, and Draco reminded her of the Muggle saying, 'practice makes perfect' (she narrowed her eyes and flared her nostrils at him over that). Hermione tried to make her excuses, but her loving and supportive parents kept encouraging her until she realized it was pointless to decline. She was fuming! It had been one thing to play after not having practiced in a long time for Harry and her parents, but for Malfoy it was definitely upsetting. She played her piece, one she had practiced and played well at Christmas, but she was so self-conscious that she didn't play it as well this time. She wanted to die right there.
Draco was very complimentary of Mrs. Grangers playing; in fact, he was sickly-sweet, in Hermione's opinion, the whole day and evening. She knew that her parents would just chalk it up to Draco possessing above-average manners, but she knew better.
After Draco had left for the night, Charles said to his daughter in an astounded tone, "Draco sure has been rather pampered by his parents, hasn't he?"
"You have no idea," Hermione grumbled in response.
"That hasn't affected his manners, though. I am rather impressed by those," her father commented, to which Hermione muttered, "So am I," having never seen them before. She went to bed right gutted.
On the third day (and the last day! Hermione thought excitedly)of tutoring, Draco was forced to show up at her home at 9am. He didn't like it, but because of Jean, he couldn't decline.
The night before, as Hermione and Draco were firming up their plan for the last day of tutoring, Jean had interrupted to remind Hermione that she had a prior commitment. Hermione was committed to babysitting, and neither elder Granger was willing to do it for her.
Good to know now that my parents aren't thrilled to be with small children and babies, she thought morosely.
Hermione normally liked babysitting, but an internal battle was raging in her mind, pragmatism vs. apprehension; the normally pragmatic side of her would have seen this as an opportunity to prepare for motherhood. However, she was feeling very wary of being around children at the moment; it just would force her to face a reality she would rather ignore. Considering all of this is why she missed the opportunity to argue against Jean's suggestion that Hermione and Draco babysit together. It's perfect for your report, Draco! Jean had said, knowing Draco was an only child and assuming (correctly) that he had very limited experience with small children.
Hermione also missed Draco's subsequent acquiescence to Jean's plan.
So, on the third day of 'Operation Muggle-ize Malfoy' (as Charles had dubbed it), Draco arrived at 9am sharp with a large cup of over-priced coffee in his hands. He didn't even bring one for me! Not that I drink coffee….but still!
"Are you sure about this, Malfoy?" she asked with a fake smile on his face, hoping he'd think she was being sarcastic and hoping he'd say yes and not back out.
What is wrong with me? I actually want to spend time with Malfoy!
She didn't want be alone with the children—or, rather, with her feelings regarding becoming a mother soon.
"Do you think a Slytherin would be intimated by mere children, Granger?" he asked superciliously.
"Ok, then, let's be off," she muttered.
The children, a three-year-old boy named Ethan (he was adorable with his light brown hair and brown eyes and tiny freckles on his nose), and a sixth-month-old girl, Elyse (who had light blonde hair and blue eyes and adorable dimples), were very well behaved. Ethan was shy around Draco and clingy to Hermione at first. Ethan soon warmed to Draco, even though Draco spoke to him like he was one of his peers (though politely and without swearing, per Hermione's demand on threat of hex) and not a preschooler (which made Hermione laugh). Draco refused to have anything to do with Elyse.
"Right. Divide and conquer, Granger," he'd said as he'd left her with Elyse and headed with Ethan toward his toys.
For heaven's sake, his father is LUCIUS MALFOY, a man in consort with the darkest wizard ever, but yet he is afraid of a baby!
Hermione had to change all of Elyse's soiled nappies, and so retaliated at Draco by making him take out the soiled nappies (even though they didn't smell very bad) to the rubbish can outside, telling him that unless they went out the house would smell right foul.
Nice one! she congratulated herself on convincing him so easily.
Hermione looked around Elyse's nursery in room was decorated stylishly, but not lavishly. The baby girl's little clothes hanging in her closet looked so darling. Hermione imagined washing the clothes and hanging them up and then later dressing Elyse in her adorable little outfits and bows in her hair. Elyse smelled so good, and snuggling with her in her rocking chair and reading a book to her was comforting. She imagined giving her own child a bath and dressing her in footie jammies and tucking her into bed, singing her lullabies as she drifted off to sleep.
Maybe this would be nice, she thought.
Yeah, another 'voice' in her head told her, this would be nice—in about ten years!
Looking around the room and in all of the drawers and the closet, she realized, There's so much a baby needs!
She cringed as she began to think of all that having a child entails—everything Hermione would have to buy for the baby's room and all of the clothes and toys and nappies! Good heavens, how will I afford all of the nappies?! Hermione quickly distracted her mind by playing with Elyse (not that it was a one-hundred-percent effective solution).
Elyse was a happy baby, in Hermione's estimation, but she didn't like to be put down, and she cried if she were. That was proving to be a problem as Hermione attempted to make lunch.
Why am I the one doing this? Oh, right, because Malfoy would starve without house elves!
She needed Draco's help, but was reluctant to ask for it, and he was oblivious to her besides, busy as he was setting up a huge toy train track for Ethan in the lounge. Hermione was holding Elyse with her left arm only on her left hip, using her right arm to prepare lunch; it was near impossible and very time-consuming. Ethan needed to be put down for his nap in thirty minutes (the kids' parents were very strict on schedules and meals and snacks and such), and Hermione could feel that a nappy change was in short order for Miss Elyse.
A shrill wail sounded behind her, and Hermione jumped so much that she almost dropped Elyse. She turned to see Ethan standing by the kitchen table, rubbing his head. She ran to him, still holding the baby, and hugged him to her as he screeched in her ear that he had hit his head on the table. He'd been running around the table with his airplane, he told her (though she got the important details mostly from his explanatory gestures rather than from his words as he was barely intelligible through all of his crying). Hermione realized that she had been so focused on trying to get the lunch ready that she'd not paid him the proper attention nor given him the warning that he may get hurt running around and that he should stop.
"I'm sorry, E, I should have told you not to do that," she cooed back, using her special nickname for Ethan, and feeling guilty. Elyse begun to wail, too, and Hermione barely heard Draco when he hollered from the lounge for her to "make those beastly moppets belt up before I go to spare."
Singing softly to the two little ones, Hermione calmed both tots down after a few minutes, which had seemed so much longer to her as their wails were a cacophony on either side of her that she couldn't escape.
After a nappy change for Elyse, Hermione returned to the kitchen. There remained only twenty minutes before Ethan's naptime.
"Mione," Ethan said as he looked up at her with his innocent brown eyes, "I'm fewy hungy." Hermione sighed and nodded, bidding Ethan to go back to Draco to play with his trains. Holding Elyse (there was no putting that girl down), she attempted lunch once more, this time opting to make the easiest thing she could put together instead of cooking a meal.
Finally, lunch was ready and Hermione was carrying it to the table when Ethan tapped Hermione on the thigh and said, "Mione, my tummy huwts."
Hermione nodded absently, not looking at him. "I know, sweet boy. Lunch is ready."
"Mione, do whees cookies haf peanud budduh in dem? I fink dey haf peanud budduh in dem." Peanut Butter!?
Hermione's eyes went wide as she looked at the peanut butter sandwich cookie in Ethan's hand and his swollen lips and blotchy face and neck.
"Shite!" she shrieked as she rushed over to the refrigerator for Ethan's epi-pen. It wasn't in its usual spot. Shite! Being obliged to use one hand to pull items from the refrigerator was thwarting Hermione's efforts, so she gently set Elyse on the floor, really not even hearing the baby girl's subsequent wails due to her own rattled state. She glanced at Ethan; he was wheezing now. Hermione rapidly cleared some food from the fridge and then glanced back at Ethan; he looked very lethargic. She gently forced him to lay down on the floor and then continued her searching for the epi-pen. On her next exam, she saw that his lips were turning blue.
The floor was littered with food items when Draco appeared in the doorway at that moment.
"Granger, what the bloody he—" he began before Hermione spun around toward him and interrupted him.
"Give me your wand, Malfoy!" she yelled, frantic and practically begging and holding out her wand hand.
"Use your own," he exclaimed in annoyance and astonishment that she would be demanding anything of him, let alone his wand.
"I don't have it! I don't bring it here!" Hermione whined. "He's going to stop breathing unless I find his medicine!" she yelled, gesturing to Ethan. Draco looked at Ethan among the mess on the floor and his eyes went wider than Hermione had ever seen them.
"Now, Malfoy!" she yelled in her most frantic tone.
Draco immediately handed her his wand, which he'd kept up his left shirtsleeve, but regarded her quizzically.
"Accio Epi-pen," Hermione shouted clearly. A rustling was heard from a cabinet. A second after, the cabinet door opened and out flew a small vial with multicolored labels and stoppers. Hermione's hand was open and she caught it deftly, her other hand poised to removed the cap.
"What's going on?" Draco demanded, picking up Elyse and holding her away from himself as if she were a soiled nappy, his nose wrinkled in disgust.
Hermione positioned herself next to Ethan and jabbed the needle into his thigh through his pants. She injected the epinephrine into Ethan's slim little leg and looked into his innocent eyes and precious little face and sobbed hard. "Malfoy," she said through tears, "dial 999 on the telephone." Then she pleaded and prayed, "Please be okay! Please be okay!" while waiting for Ethan's pink hue to return and for his breathing to become normal.
"Uh, Granger, I don't know what you want from me, here," Draco said, still holding Elyse as if she were a bomb. At least she'd stopped her screaming, Hermione thought as she looked up and noticed them. She groaned in frustration and finished rubbing the medicine into Ethan's muscle. Ugh, ignorant, spoiled wizard! Ron's a pureblood, too, but even he knows how to make a telephone call!
"Never mind, Malfoy. I'll do it," she said resignedly as she stood and grabbed the telephone. She made her call to EMS and then to the children's mother, hearing Ethan calling out for her when his throat opened up.
"I'm so, so, sorry, E!" she cried out, using her special nickname for him, and starting to weep again, now that her phone calls were concluded. "I'm so, so, so sorry!"
"Mynee!" Ethan gasped. His eyes held fear in them, and Hermione felt incredibly guilty and like her heart was being squeezed by the giant hands of a troll.
After a few minutes, he whimpered, "I was so hungy and I wanted to twy one of Dad's cookies. Mum and Dad nefuh wet me haf any!"
Hermione was about to nod and speak when Draco addressed Ethan.
"Well, maybe your brilliant parents shouldn't keep them in the house at all," Draco spat, still holding Elyse at arms' length, "seeing as they almost killed you."
Hermione frowned at him for speaking ill of Ethan's parents in front of the tyke, even though she completely agreed with his logic. Still, feeling so much empathy for the tyke and immense relief that she hadn't had to just witness him dying, she merely said, "I know, buddy. It's not your fault."
Ethan lay in Hermione's arms, recovering and calming, until the EMS arrived. The children's mother was on her way to the hospital, and as Hermione couldn't leave Draco to tend to Elyse nor should she take Elyse with her to the hospital, she had to say a quick goodbye to a crying Ethan, who was devastated that he would be with strangers in an ambulance. Hermione lost it again; she was actually wailing as the ambulance drove away. She walked back into the house and took Elyse from Draco's reluctant hold.
She looks barmy, certifiably insane, Draco thought; Hermione's eyes were wide and her demeanor extra anxious.
Hermione carried the tot to her room. Draco followed and watched a bit, unbeknownst to Hermione, thinking Hermione deranged and a little concerned for the rugrat she was caring for. But all he saw was how she cradled the baby to her, rocking her to sleep, and singing some song Draco couldn't identify. Satisfied that Hermione was not going to commit baby-cide, Draco left the doorway to the nursery.
The baby hadn't eaten, but Hermione was too emotionally exhausted to care. She sang and rocked until Elyse succumbed to sleep, and then laid the sleeping baby in her cot and returned to the kitchen to clean up.
She had quite a shock when she saw that all of the items that had been littered upon the floor where no longer there and that Draco sat at the kitchen bar counter, eating. He caught Hermione's look of surprise and haughtily said, "Granger, I'm fairly adept at magic, you know," as he brandished his wand in one hand, gesturing to the refrigerator.
Hermione nodded her thanks. Draco then made Hermione explain about the "Muggle vial of non-magical potion" and the cookies that caused "the brat to almost die." Hermione rolled her eyes, but explained about allergic reactions and anaphylaxis and the Muggle medicine to combat them. She then thought how odd it was that Malfoy had never heard of allergies or life-threatening allergic reactions; surely there were Magical people with allergies? Or, maybe Draco's lack of knowledge on the topic simply stemmed from his upbringing being too sheltered and him being so egotistical that he'd never had the chance to encounter the concept of life-threatening allergies.
When Draco seemed satisfied with Hermione's explanation, he said, "So, Granger, as those cookies aren't poisoned, I should finish them off for the tot's sake, then, right?" Hermione smiled a little and waved her hand as if to tell him to help himself.
When the Ethan and Elyse's mother returned from the hospital, Hermione and Draco left the house after Hermione had refused to be paid for her service. Draco was upset with Hermione for not allowing HIM to accept money for babysitting. As they walked toward the Grangers' home, tears fell from Hermione's big brown eyes out of humiliation and anger at herself for what had occurred on her watch. She sniffled and wiped her cheeks frequently as the cold air stung them more than usual in winter due to her tears. She didn't even care that she was crying in front of Draco Malfoy.
Draco looked very unnerved until he abruptly said, "I think I can handle the report from here, Granger….I've had enough of Muggle life today. See you at school." And with that, he loped away down the street toward the Tube station.
Hermione cried the whole, solitary way home. She felt like she was the scum of the Earth that Voldemort and his followers claimed that she was. I can't do this! I can't be a mother! Today proved that! I'll end up hurting my own child, trying to save myself and Ron and Harry! And why should MY baby have to be in jeopardy at its own mother's hands for that Snake-faced monster to be defeated? It won't have a father. I'll be its only parent—and a disastrous one at that! How fair is that to a child? I can't be a mother! I won't do it!
As Draco walked (and walked and walked) to the station, he had a lot to keep himself occupied. He realized that this 'mudblood' was made of much stronger stuff than he had known before; that had been made quite clear to him as he watched her take charge of the emergent situation of the allergic reaction. He marveled at how she had saved Ethan….how she maintained poise under pressure, even though it was clear that she was terrified….how she knew just what to do. Draco noted that Hermione was a very capable person in the Muggle world, as well as in the Wizarding world. Obviously, he'd known she was a talented witch before today, but now….he was more in awe (and jealous)—and irritated because of it.
Furthermore, Hermione's ability to use his wand—a wand that was not only resistant to her but whose composition was tremendously different from her own—said loads about her magical abilities. 'Stolen' or not, they were impressive—more impressive than he had realized from observing her at school the past five years, in fact. The more he had seen Granger's work ethic over the past five years, the more he had come to believe that her magic had not been stolen at all. He knew that this 'mudblood,' at least, came by her Magical abilities honestly, and her natural ability and her determination made for one formidable witch.
He was even more resentful and hateful toward Potter after this day with Granger—after realizing how much more special she was than he had previously known.
He had an errant thought during his long trek back to the Manor that he tried to squash but couldn't: how many other Muggleborns had he been wrong about—and what else about Granger had he been wrong about?
Please review! Thanks fellow Pot-heads ;)