A/N: I know, this is taking freaking forever. I've come into a rather busy time and am trying to write and post as often as I can. With family responsibilities and professors breathing down my neck, my schedule is a little tight. I feel really bad but don't lose faith in me. This will be finished and then I can get posting on the companion fic to this. Anway, thank you to my readers, reviewers, and followers. Hope you like the chapter. Read and review, please, and tell me what you think.


Draco stirred awake from feeling a tickling sensation above his left wrist. Breathing in deeply, he blinked his eyes awake and saw Hermione lying next to him on her side, the bed sheets covering all of her womanly places. She was much closer to him than the last time they were together in her bedroom. He also took notice that her hair-straightening potion must've worn off in the night because her hair was wild and curly and exquisitely mesmerizing. Absentmindedly, he reached with his right hand and tugged at one of her blondish curls. Her eyes narrowed and curiosity filled them while she cocked her head to the side.

"Draco Malfoy, how could I ever forget?"

His toying hands froze and sunk his own grey orbs into her brown ones. Merlin, does she remember? Did our scorching shag knock something loose up in that curly head of hers?

Excitedly, Draco sat up and caressed her cheek with the back of his knuckles. "Granger," he whispered and to his bewilderment, she giggled.

"Granger?" she snickered and bit her bottom lip. "No one's called me that since Hogwarts. Well…I have a kind of friend that does sometimes, but you get what I mean."

Draco's heart sunk into his stomach and then mentally slapped himself for being so hopeful. Of course, she didn't remember. Trying not to sound thoroughly irritated, he asked, "How could you forget what?"

Hermione's giggling subsided into something else, something morbid and serious, and Draco realized she had never stopped caressing the skin above his wrist until she paused at his question and then started again. His gaze landed on her fingers and sucked in the breath because she was not caressing but tracing.

"I don't remember you from school at all," she said, her eyes where her fingers were. "Perhaps your name. I think you may have been friends with Blaise Zabini, the Head Boy of our repeated year, right? He was at your party. He's the one who used to call me Granger in school. We're kind of friends."

Draco slowly nodded, unsure where Hermione was taking this.

"I travelled with Harry Potter before the Battle of Hogwarts along with Ronald Weasley. We were in hiding. There had been an unfortunate time when we were captured and taken to a very large house. There, I was tortured by a woman named Bellatrix Lestrange while other followers of…Tom Riddle watched. I didn't know who the actual owner of the house was, and I never bothered to ask when I had the chance months later. Too many horrid memories, and I wanted to put it all behind me.

"When I found out that I was pregnant, I had no idea how to contact you. I didn't know where you lived. I only knew your name. When I went to the Directory, I discovered only those invited can pass your wards. I wanted to write you, but I knew I needed to speak with you in person, and I was also afraid that someone, namely your wife, would see the letter. I had hoped that you would come in the shop again, but you didn't. When Adrian asked me to accompany him to your party, I accepted. When we arrived, I couldn't find you right away, and Adrian was trying to find a private area for us to talk. He dragged me into a room, and …" Hermione's voice trailed on, and her brown eyes became dewy with unshed tears. "It was that room."

"The Drawing Room," whispered Draco and guilt overwhelmed him, and he hated it. Dammit, he had already done this before. He had already suffered from his sins of the war when it came to Hermione Granger. After the capture and escape of Harry Potter and his friends, he had nightmares for a year about Hermione writhing in excruciation in front of him. They subsided when she forgave him personally on their third date. He remembered her rising up on her tiptoes and kissing him gently and lingeringly on his cheek, whispering her forgiveness towards him for everything and believed he was truly a changed man, but their courting could not continue because it was upsetting her friends and even her parents. Draco had tried to withhold his anger by explaining to her the reasons why they should continue their relationship. That was when she blatantly told him they had yet to finalize such a status, and he needed to calm down. Funny, he had thought he was rather placid, but her telling him what to do certainly geared the conversation into a different direction. He loudly informed her that she was not his mother. She responded by throwing her hands up in the air in a praise-like fashion exclaiming a 'thank Godric for that!'

Their bickering heated up vastly and lasted for a good ten minutes until she repeated their friendly togetherness was causing some hot air between her and her lads. He snorted and said that was bloody hypocritical since Pansy was up the duff with Weasel's bastard child. Apparently, she hadn't known because her eyes popped out of her head, and her head tilted back while an obnoxious guffaw escaped her lips. She called him a crazy git and that Ron would never touch the Pug-Faced Dimbo. He challenged her words by saying, 'like I would never touch the Muggle-Born Golden Girl?'

Hermione's laughter had diminished after that, her chest heaving up and down from violent giggling. Her smile disappeared, and her eyes seemed be calculating, and then he witnessed the click in them. She had added the numbers and came up with an often disappearing Ron plus a mood-swinging but kind of friendlier Pansy, equals baby.

Draco had taken full advantage of Hermione's stupor. He threw himself at her, connecting his lips with hers, so she knew what he felt for her was miniscule compared to her friends' and folks' opinions.

"Yeah," he heard Hermione say, tearing Draco away from that memory. "I wanted to leave. I didn't want to talk to you. I didn't want to tell you about the pregnancy. You most likely served on Voldemort's side during the war. I admit; I paid little attention to your body when we were together eight weeks ago, so I didn't see this. But I guess you didn't see mine, either." Hermione slid her forearm next his, and Draco swallowed thickly at her unblemished skin. Her pointer finger slid from the middle of her radial artery and downward, the letters M-U-D-B-L-O-O-D shadowing behind the digit. He closed his eyes and held back a wave of nausea. He had forgotten about her scars. "But you probably knew it was already there. You mostly likely saw it happen from the shadows or something."

"Hermione-" Draco tried to speak, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand and an eye roll.

"I was angry with you, of course, which was why I didn't want to tell you about my condition. I was on my way to the Floo, and I was about to step in when I changed my mind. I didn't want this to come back and bite me in arse years later, so I found you, told you, and left. When I received your Owl, you can understand the reason as to why I was so upset. I was hoping to never hear from you again. You're not like other men, Mr. Malfoy. Most of them would hop on their broom and fly off as far as they could get or simply ignore the fact they got a woman pregnant, especially if they are already married. You want to help. Sort of. You sounded quite controlling in your letter. I hate being controlled." Draco nodded. Yes, he knew. That was something that would never change about Hermione Granger regardless of hair color and eyeglasses. "I hated especially that an ex-Death Eater was trying to control me and that I let myself get pregnant by one. Well…I didn't let myself. Those blasted Contraceptive Potions are only 99.9 percent guaranteed. I am a faithful consumer; I promise."

"You don't appear that upset anymore. For a Muggle-Born witch who has an ex-Death Eater in her bedroom and got pregnant by him, you are acting rather calm," Draco carefully pointed out.

An amused sparkle lit up Hermione's eyes, and an unreadable smirk stretched half of her face. "Merlin, you're right!" she gasped and shoved her hand underneath her pillow, pulling out her wand and pointing it at him. "You retched, foul rodent! I shall perform a Hacking Hex on your bits for impregnating me, attempting to control me, and attempt to rape me in an ice cream shop where the young and the innocent go to mingle!"

Draco being an ex-Death Eater was no laughing matter, nor was Hermione being pregnant. However, he could not help but let a chuckle slip out. Without thinking, he leaned towards her and captured her lips in a gentle kiss. It was the kind of kiss that should only be shared between those in love, and he was most certainly not. Inarguably, he was still attracted to Granger, but he did not love her. All of her loveable qualities were gone and replaced by a startling personality and promiscuous proclivities.

And blonde hair.

The glasses were actually kind of growing on him.

Draco pulled away and sensed uneasiness coming from Hermione. She was put off by the kiss, as well.

"Um…" she said after an awkward beat while wiping her mouth. "We need to talk about things, I guess."

Seizing the opportunity to lighten the mood again, he said, "I thought you didn't want to talk."

Her eyes squeezed shut, and a mix between and a cringe and a smile formed on her lips. "I think we have to."

Nodding, he plunged his hand into his mussed hair before asking as carefully as he could, "Are you…Do you…Um…?"

"I'm thirty-one, you know," she whispered and turned her head towards her curtained windows. It was a rather large window and took up an entire wall-space. She stared at it like it was the most interesting thing in the room. "I'm unmarried, but that's on purpose. Truthfully," she faced him once more, "I can't remember a time that I ever wanted to marry. Not even my boyfriend…who's not my boyfriend anymore, by the way."

A million memories flashed in the back of Draco's mind that contradicted her words of matrimonial binding but ignored them and continued listening to Hermione.

"But a mother?" she hinted and shrugged. "Who knows? But I have to take in consideration that my time is shortening biologically wise. I have the rest of my life to change my mind about marriage but only a few years about children." Grumbled something unintelligible and looking rather annoyed, she flopped herself back on the bed and growled before muttering out, "I might as well keep the thing."

Oh, dear, if any of the family portraits caught wind of this…

Are you barking mad, Draco! he yelled at himself. If Mum finds out…

"Draco, are you okay? You seem a little green," Hermione told him.

"So do you," he commented back dryly and jolted in surprise when Hermione bolted from the bed stark naked and ran into the bathroom. From the bed he heard retching and wondered what he should do and if he should do anything. Unsurely, he vacated the bed and slipped on his boxers while checking the time. It was 5:30 in the morning. He padded quietly over to the open door of the bathroom and snuck a peak. Hermione's naked back was hunched over, her face shoved into the toilet accompanied with liquid-y chucks spraying from her mouth.

Draco cringed and tried to remember if Astoria was sick when carrying Scorpius.

"It's rude to stare," Hermione heaved out between spews.

"I just wanted…" he wracked his brain for something, "to see if you were okay. If you needed anything."

She said nothing but persisted to regurgitate for quite some time, to the point where Draco began to worry. He eyed the glimmering sheen of sweat developing down along her spine and the strands of curly hair sticking to her forehead. His concern lessed and took advantage of her nude state and studied her body and the changes the last ten years gave her. Her body was still petite but appeared to have managed clinging on to some meat in her womanly places. Her bosoms were nice, but that could be due to her circumstances. Her skin was smooth, flawless with random sprinkles of freckles here and there, and her arse was still the best he had ever seen, fully clothed or not.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the witch's vomiting seized. Hermione sighed heavily and tried to stand up on shaky legs. Taking his chances, Draco stepped forward and scooped her up like a bride, and she gave him a tired glare.

"I was fine," she claimed but made no move to wriggle out of his hold. Instead, she lifted her hand and brushed her fingertip across his right shoulder. "What happened here?"

Without looking as to where she was pointing, Draco deposited her on the bed and emotionlessly stated, "Sectumsempra Curse."

Hermione's eyes widened in alarm and then focused back on the scar before they wandered all over the exposed skin of his torso in search for more marks. "That's a nasty curse, and I'm surprised you survived. It's meant to kill," she whispered and leaned back against her pillow and jutted out her ribcage. Draco was momentarily distracted by the motion, for her breasts were quite distracting but eyed her finger when she skimmed over the skin below them. A long, thirteen millimeter wide, dark pink scar appeared. "But so was this."

In the ten years since the last time Draco saw her naked, Hermione's scar she got in Fifth year at the Department of Mysteries had not changed in the slightest, and Draco frowned severely at that revelation. She must have mistaken his reaction for something else because she scrambled for her duvet, quickly covering herself with a shameful blush covering her cheeks.

"I shouldn't have shown you that." Hermione stared off into some far corner of her bedroom. "I hardly ever show it to anyone, and now I remember why."

"Hermione-" he began quietly and sat beside her.

"It's hideous." Scowling, she brought her knees up towards her face and wrapped her arms around them. "Admit it."

Even knowing how she got it, Draco asked anyway to show some supporting interest in her wellbeing. "Where did you get it? What happened?"

Hermione, still eyeing that fascinating corner, hesitantly met his gaze but vastly lowered it to her knees and vaguely said, "I've been cursed before, too, as you know, and it left a mark."

"It's not as abhorrent as you think," Draco attempted to comfort and she rolled her eyes and smiled sadly.

"You're right. It's worse. Aren't you disgusted?"

"No. You're not put off by my scars. Not even my Dark Mark."

"It's different with girls," Hermione solemnly mumbled. "We're supposed to be pristine and flawless."

Her words threw him. The old Hermione would have never said that, and she had never hid her scars from him, and he had never been repulsed by them. They were a part of her, and Draco loved them because of such. During their lovemaking, he had often traced the scars with his tongue and nipped at them with his teeth.

"Famous sculptors would often make the most beautiful statues and then purposefully mar them because they thought imperfection was more aspiring, and it is," he said to her

The corners of Hermione's lips turned upwards just slightly. He brought his hand to her forehead and brushed away the curly strands of blond.

"We'll talk more later," Draco promised as she shifted into the fetal position and tucked the duvet snuggly under her chin. He reached for his trousers and shirt and slipped them on, leaving her to rest.

He Apparated straight to his bedroom only to shed the clothes he just donned. It was nearly six, and he needed to be at work at eight o' clock sharp for a meeting. It would be fruitless to go back to bed. Instead, he showered. The heat was on high, and the water soothed his aching muscles from the activities of the night before, deciding that Hermione could probably kill a man if she were not careful. He chortled at the thought 'what a way to go' and messaged some shampoo into his scalp.

The large glass door of the shower flew open, and Draco slipped backwards with a frightened yelp, landing painfully on his naked bum. He blinked away the stinging in his eyes from the shampoo and stared up at his mother in aghast.

"Mum, What's wrong?"

"Where were you last night, Draco?" she asked in a light tone a voice, but he knew better. He placed his hands on his private bits and maneuvered himself up back into a standing position and stuck his head underneath the pouring water to rinse his locks. Once finished, he faced her again.

"Out," he replied.

"Astoria stopped by," Narcissa informed coldly, "and was looking for you."

"Was she really? Did she see Scorpius?"

"For a minute, but it was you she wanted to talk to, and it was past his bedtime. She was rather upset you were not here and wondered where you were at such a late hour. Where were you, Draco, and don't lie to Mummy. We both know that's not a good idea."

"I said I was out. I don't want to be specific, Mum, but in all honesty, Astoria has been lacking in the companionship department."

His mother drew in an audible scandalized breath and lifted her chin."Fine. But if you choose to seek out other women, Draco, at least get started on a divorce. It's uncomely for you to still be married while running about like a bachelor. If someone from the media caught on…"

"Once Astoria and I get a chance to speak, our lawyers will be contacted and the papers will be on their way. I will Owl her and hopefully she responds this time."