Thank you all for reading!

Chapter 10

-April 1997

After Draco discovered Hermione's pregnancy, he was hard pressed to keep his eyes off of Hermione in classes and in the Great Hall. So far, they had done well keeping up the appearance that the two of them were still enemies while they were in public; but since the resumption of school after the Easter Holiday one week ago, he found his eyes seeking her out and his gaze lingering too long—all too often.

He kept remembering how she'd looked in his Quidditch jersey….with his name on her. She was his (labeled so or not), and as he had a strong urge to protect her, he likewise had a strong desire to inform the whole of Hogwarts (especially the males) that Hermione Granger was spoken for.

Since the Masquerade Ball, she'd taken to wearing makeup and he saw other blokes taking notice of her because of it. Even other Slytherin Pureblood blokes weren't letting her blood status deter them from giving Hermione a second glance, and so (though he knew that he shouldn't be ogling the 'Mudblood's' pretty face at all to keep up appearances), he, too, had been indulging in covert gazes.

In the past week, he'd been quite chuffed—giddy, in fact (he was a sixteen year old male, after all, no matter how respectfully he normally treated Hermione) when he noted that even through Hermione's robes he could see the change in Hermione's form (ie larger breasts). He was pleased about being able to enjoy her new visage at times other than when in the Room—until he overheard some seventh-year bloke from Ravenclaw say to his mates, 'Speaking of Herbology, have you seen Granger's blooming Puffapods lately?'

They, obviously, were speaking of Hermione's, erm, bosom. Draco did not like his girl being ogled, and he had almost hexed those tossers right there and then in the corridor and earned detention (as well as given away his true feelings about Herimione). THAT near blunder triggered him to propose to her that she hide her growing, ahem, femininity (as his mother would delicately and politely say).

He knew it was futile to try to control her, though, and impossible to control the other blokes—in reality. So, in his fantasies, he made sure to have his way. In his fantasies, no bloke dared look at her or dream of her but him; she always wore his jersey (sometimes even just his jersey), and she always only had eyes for him (even forgetting all about the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Annoy-Him and The Weasel. Fantasies indeed.)

Draco found himself drawn to her hair, trying to smell it as they passed one another and barely resisting the temptation to reach out and rake his hand through the curly, coconut-perfumed mass.

If the stress of my task doesn't lead me to madness, then resisting Hermione surely will, he thought.

Though charmed to be invisible, the bump was the focus of his gaze (not to mention his thoughts) many times. He was uneasy about the fact that her secret would be discovered if her skin showed or if someone else touched her abdomen. He'd felt protective of her before now, but since discovering her secret, he felt extremely protective of her—and protective of her secret. He'd thought about it almost constantly the past week; discovering a secret like Hermione's was not easy to forget—even when it didn't involve one's own girlfriend. Any rumor of any girl being pregnant at Hogwarts was certainly juicy gossip and always spread like Fiendfyre. The fact that the pregnant girl this time was the know-it-all best friend of the 'Chosen One' (oh, blech, spare me!), and 'most likely to be Head Girl next year' would be impossible for anyone to resist passing on. If the wrong people were to hear about it (which they surely would), then things would get precarious for Hermione—and Draco….well, he would probably be a certain snake's next meal.

After each time his gaze lingered too long, he mentally rebuked himself; it was dangerous—for all of them. All of us, he mused one day as he ate a quick meal, which was compulsory upon threat of Hermione being angry with him (she really was worried for him, and he felt compelled to oblige her before trekking up to the Room to work on his task). Grouping the four of them together felt….right, he thought, surprising himself. Right—but ridiculous, he scoffed, shaking his head.

All of us—Hermione, her children, and me.

He had pictured he and Hermione meeting secretly like they were now, but with two tots in tow. Ridiculous. Impractical.

He had pictured a homey dorm room in which Hermione shared with the tots….and he would secretly visit them there. Ridiculous. Immature.

He had pictured a house elf babysitting the tots while Hermione attended classes and meals in the Great Hall and Quidditch matches (at which she would be wearing his Slytherin jersey and cheering for him, of course), and the two of them holding hands and kissing in the corridors as he walked beside her everywhere she went. Ridiculous. Impossible.

He had pictured Hermione's children having their father involved and helping Hermione with the responsibilities of being a parent. He also had pictured in the same scenario this bloke being a great father and respecting Hermione, and Hermione being free to pursue her goals and dreams—and, most importantly, a relationship with him, Draco. She would be his—at least when she wasn't busy with childcare. How much time would that take up? he had wondered, until he remembered the babysitting experience he had with Hermione. He had frowned. Those moppets hadn't left her any 'free' time at all, and any time Hermione would have while her children were with their father would likely be spent on her schoolwork. He'd frowned again. Realistic. But unacceptable.

He had pictured Hermione not attending Hogwarts next year so she could care for her children. He would meet her on Hogsmeade days when she could get a babysitter for the tots. He had felt a pang in his chest at the thought. Unacceptable.

He hadn't come up with a single viable plan that would keep provide a situation capable of giving Hermione the life she wanted while keeping her children with her. None of his ideas appealed to him as Hermione's boyfriend, either. Maybe she is right, he had thought, feeling strangely defeated. She usually is.

After that, he had conceded to imagining the scenario based on Hermione's plan of giving up her children. She would come back to Hogwarts next year and she and he were together (in secret or not—he didn't care). He had pictured Hermione's smiling face and bright eyes—until he remembered the haunted look of a mother who had given up her baby; that was why Hermione giving up her children was unacceptable. He would not be able to bear seeing Hermione's eyes vacant and dulled, her face tearful and marred with regret.

The solution came to him in the Room one night when he was alone (and not even attempting to fix the cabinet). She needs consistent, reliable help like her parents could provide, but here at Hogwarts. Even my mother had help—

Why didn't I think of this sooner? House elves had, after all, allowed his own mother to be a mother and a busy socialite and keep up with her hobbies when he was a tot. A House elf or two babysitting Hermione's tots while she studied and attended classes (and Quidditch matches, at which she would be wearing his Slytherin jersey and cheering for him, of course) would provide the much-needed time for he and Hermione to be together!

Draco's heart beat faster as he imagined this scenario….and his imagination did, indeed, start to run away with him. This way, he thought, the two of them could hold hands and kiss in the corridors as he walked beside her, unencumbered, everywhere she went—or, if they had to keep their relationship a secret, then they could meet up in the Room, uninterrupted and with no thought to the needs of others, much like now (well, almost; he had the Dark Lord to consider, after all).

There was one hitch to his plan, and it was Money, and—most likely—loads of it.

That I can do.

Draco smiled broadly, whistling a jaunty tune as he marveled at his genius and in anticipation of sharing his idea with Hermione.

Now, to arrange it all….but perhaps after I fix this bloody cabinet.

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Mid-April brought to Hermione the stress and excitement of the Apparition Exam. With special permission from and a temporary lowering of the anti-apparition wards in the Hospital Wing by Professor Dumbledore, she practiced where Madam Pomfrey was immediately available in case she were to splinch. Her innate ability to focus, plus the added motivation to avoid splinching and potentially harming the twins, made the task of concentrating on the 'Three D's' simple for her. Hermione quickly became a competent apparator and never once splinched, so she received Madam Pomfrey's permission to freely apparate while pregnant once she passed the official exam.

In all of the practice sessions, Draco had done exceptionally well, too, but he felt no excitement or stress about the upcoming Apparition Exam in Hogsmeade. He was too young to take the test—he and Potter, he thought with disdain—and would have to wait until the term ended and take his exam at the Ministry. If I even survive this term, he'd thought whenever the subject arose.

Hermione's practices with Madam Pomfrey and the time she'd needed to spend in the Library getting homework and studying completed had proven beneficial to Draco; he worked on the Vanishing Cabinet. To his utter vexation, he was no closer to fixing it than he had been at the start of the Easter Holiday, however.

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-April 21, 1997

On the twenty-first, Hermione had a date planned with Draco in the evening. She was on a natural high from her successful performance during the Apparition Exam earlier that day and from anticipation of spending time with Draco, which had been severely limited in the last two weeks. After dinner, at which she actually couldn't eat much because she was so excited for her date, she showered and got 'dolled-up.' She put on a long, stretchy, Muggle-style skirt, which she charmed to be Slytherin green to match Draco's Quidditch jersey. She paired the skirt with the jersey over a tank with a built-in bra; she wanted to look nice, but comfort (especially while pregnant) was her primary aim. Feeling a trivial amount of disloyalty to her own House, she added her large Gryffindor hoodie. She added to the look her black, chunky heeled shoes. The Bloodstone choker was in its normal place on her throat and, incidentally, tied together the skirt and the hoodie. After her makeup was complete (she put more on than she did during the day), she was heading for the Common Room when Ron and Harry met her in the corridor outside of her dormitory and pushed her back inside.

Hermione gasped, surprised but more shocked. "How did you boys get up here?" she demanded, even as her gaze fell onto what the boys held in their hands. Her eyes went wide. "Broomsticks! You—you flew up here?" she squealed (more impressed at their genius than surprised now). The boys grinned broadly and pushed her further back inside her dorm room and shut the door.

"It was the only way to get up here as the stairs wouldn't allow us to make use of them, wasn't it?" Ron said arrogantly, smirking, proud as pie. The idea must have been his, Hermione thought as she smiled at him.

"You look nice, Hermione," Ron said stoically, as if he'd barely noticed, but still, Hermione smiled and thanked him.

"You do," Harry chimed in with a sincere tone and expression. But his expression changed quickly. "You're wearing that to Hagrid's?" he asked in a dubious tone. Hagrid's wasn't the cleanest of homes, and Hermione usually wore her 'grubbies' when calling on him.

Hermione clenched her jaw. "I told you this morning in the courtyard that I couldn't go to Hagrid's, Harry. Why are you two here, anyway?" she asked, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

Harry's eyes narrowed briefly, but he quickly changed his expression, trying to hide his own annoyance.

"Well, Ron is avoiding Lavender," he said, to which Ron spluttered a denial that Harry and Hermione ignored, "and I'm here to tell you that I can't go to Hagrid's because I'll be taking the Felix Felicis soon."

Hermione smiled genuinely. "Oh, Harry, that's brilliant. Well done!" she praised as she patted him on the shoulder.

Harry and Ron exchanged a 'look,' and then smirked at one another.

"Yeah, well, I was hoping that you would go to Hagrid's for Aragog's funeral with Ron," Harry said quietly.

"No, I can't," Hermione said firmly.

"Where are you headed to looking so fancy?" Harry asked abruptly and with a hint of superiority.

Hermione was surprised by his tone and his brusqueness, with which he did not usually address her. She raised her brows slightly as she answered him. "I'm not dressed fancy," she said.

For Heaven's sake! He thinks THIS my attempt to look fancy? She sighed.

"Now, Harry, don't forget your Cloak because the Felix Felicis may compel you to go outside of the castle and you don't want to be caught outside after curfew."

Harry appeared to want to argue, but instead he nodded curtly, pulling the Cloak out of his robe pocket and donning it. The trio headed out of the girls' dormitories and to the Gryffindor Common Room, Hermione thinking of a lie with which to excuse herself from Ron's presence.

Harry was invisible under his Cloak, but Ron and Hermione exiting the dormitory together was completely visible, and it did not go unnoticed by Lavender Brown.

"What are you doing with her?" she shrieked at Ron. Ron gave Hermione a helpless and very pathetic look and headed toward his girlfriend like he was headed for execution.

Hermione was home free! She smiled broadly at her good luck as she walked, smiling and waving at an angry looking Ginny who was making her way through the Gryffindor Common Room, her boyfriend, Dean Thomas trying to catch up to her. Quite a few boys, including Neville and Cormac McLaggen, eyed her approvingly, she notied. Every day she used Glamour Charms, but rarely did she use them all at once (and rarely did she tame her mane) as she had tonight; the effect was very attractive, if Hermione did say so herself. Neville instantly turned a bright red hue upon realizing that Hermione saw him checking her out, and although Cormac did seem pleased by what he saw, he made no effort to send her one of his famous smolders; Hermione was completely unbothered by that. The approval of only one bloke mattered to her, and that bloke was definitely not in the Gryffindor Common Room.

Hermione's smile lasted into the empty corridor. Hearing her name being spoken once outside of the portrait hole made her gasp loudly; she seemed to be alone. She drew her wand as Harry revealed himself from under his Cloak.

"Harry Potter! You scared me," she said with a smile and tiny nervous laugh, both of which faded quickly as she comprehended that, by the look on Harry's face, this conversation was not going to be a pleasant one. He was quiet, but his expression told her that inside he was seething. Her eyes took in the rest of him, and it was then that she noticed the Map in his hand.

"You're going looking for Professor Slughorn, then, Harry? Right?" she asked cheerfully, hopefully, pointing to the Map. She aimed to keep him focused on getting Professor Slughorn's memory (which Harry desperately needed to retrieve) and avoid the topic of Draco (of which she was in desperate need). She prayed that Harry had not been searching the Map for Draco.

Harry shook his head. "No. I've been looking for you, though," he said curtly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Harry, you knew where I was," she said, confused. Did he already take the Felix and it's causing this bizarre behavior as a side effect? "I was in the Common Room," she calmly and carefully reminded him.

"You were just now, but what about all of the other times?"

Oh, no. No, no, no.

She acted quickly. "What other times, Harry?" she said cautiously, speaking in a friendly tone but feigning confusion.

"When you haven't been with me or Ron or in the Library or the Hospital Wing—or anywhere!"

"Why ever would you be looking for me on the Map?" she asked.

"I've been worried about you, Hermione! You've been absent so much lately—sometimes at night, too! After you were raped last year—"

"Harry, please lower your voice!" she hissed.

"I'd think you'd stay a little closer to us!" Harry hissed back, his volume lower but his tone just as sharp. "We know that Crabbe and Goyle have been using Polyjuice Potion for Malfoy, and I'm—"

"Harry, we know that Malfoy had nothing to do with my rape, and lower your voice!" she commanded.

Harry, noticing the worry cross Hermione's face, took a couple of relaxing breaths. "I know you've been lying about where you've really been going. What are you hiding from me, Hermione?"

Harry's tone was soft, and Hermione knew he was more hurt than angry. Guilt hit her—hard—right in the gut, and she felt her cheeks bloom with heat. Harry only had her best interest at heart, she knew, and she was lying to him—had been for over a month now.

"I….well, I…." she started, but she realized that she was already burdened by so many lies that she couldn't stand to tell one more. She sighed, resigned to the truth (well, as much as was prudent to tell, anyway) despite the consequences. "You're not going to like it, Harry," she said.

"Oh, I already know that, Hermione," Harry spat angrily and assuredly.

Oh, for cripes sake! Hermione sighed, this time out of frustration.

"You haven't seen me on the Map because I've been in the Room of Requirement, Harry," Hermione said slowly. Harry raised his dark black brows to meet his messy dark black hair, waiting for an explanation. He didn't seem shocked in the least, which gave Hermione cause for concern.

"I've been tutoring again. Muggle Studies. For Malfoy. He failed it last term—again," she lied easily, and adding an eye roll for effect. Draco's assertion that she was a terrible liar came to mind, and she hoped that Harry didn't have the same opinion. "Don't worry; he's behaving himself, and I always have my wand, and I'm always on my guard. Besides," she added excitedly, "it's the perfect opportunity for me to find out what he does in there."

Hermione was betting that Harry would see this as a 'silver lining' and leave it alone. Harry did seem to ponder all she said for a minute, his scowl turning less scowl-y, until he suddenly looked incredulously at her.

"And you dressing up," he said accusingly as he pointed to her from head to toes, "is that for him?"

"Of course not! This is not about Malfoy! This is me wanting to try something different, for once!"

"I know he's up to something, Hermione. I know he's a Dea—"

"Yes, yes, I know; you think he's a Death Eater," she hissed, putting up her hand to stop him. "He hasn't done anything to make me think that he is a Death Eater, though, so for now, we have to give him the benefit of the doubt, Harry."

Harry sighed and was silent for a few moments before he nodded. "I just wish that you wouldn't keep secrets, Hermione. And that you wouldn't go places alone. And that you wouldn't tutor that slimy git."

Hermione nodded, but bristled a bit internally at Harry's insult of her paramour. "I completely understand your concerns, Harry, I do. I'll try harder from now on to be more….forthcoming, alright?" Hermione said quickly and with just enough sincerity so that Harry would hopefully let her go.

"Now," she continued, "you have a very important task to accomplish, so no more worrying about me tonight, alright?" She gave him a winning smile and squeezed his shoulder fondly.

He nodded and pulled Hermione in for a hug. He held her tightly, feeling her larger-than-usual breasts and stomach and remembering the babies for the first time in a while. "Oh, umm, sorry, Hermione—did I hurt you—or the babies?" Harry whispered in her ear as he looked around the corridor for other people, blushing at his mistake (and for momentarily thinking about her breasts) and feeling guilty for forgetting about Hermione's tots. He'd really been quite self-centered lately, he realized.

Hermione pulled back and gave him a genuine smile. "No, Harry, we are fine." At Harry's look of relief, which was such an endearing look to Hermione, she added, "I've missed you, you know? Missed us." She pulled him back to an embrace. She really had missed him, although she hadn't realized it until now. She cared for Harry deeply, but, she realized just then, she felt only friendship for him; and what she felt for Draco was something much, much different. What she felt for Draco was deep and strong—not deeper or stronger than what she felt for Harry—but….passionate. Yes, that's the perfect description! She felt her cheeks flame with the realization.

"Yeah, me too," he said sadly, bringing Hermione back to him mentally and out of her daydream of Draco.

"Well," she said, clearing her throat primly, "you've got to go, Harry Potter….Good Luck," she said cheekily with a smile, a wink, and a gentle push. Harry smiled and nodded before drinking his Liquid Luck and donning his Cloak once more.

Hermione waved at Harry, but waited for a long while before Disillusioning herself and leaving the Gryffindor Corridor, heading to the Room to meet Draco.

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He could see her looking at him—well, in his direction really. Being invisible did not make him ignorant of the fact that his footfalls could be heard, so he charmed his shoes with a Silencing spell. He practically ran down the corridor. He could not get away from Gryffindor tower fast enough. He hadn't been so affected in a while. That hug—so emotional, so familiar, so comfortable—had been like a sucker punch to the gut, but nothing compared to her words.

We are fine. I've missed you. Missed us.

At those words, he'd felt as if his chest had exploded. He did not believe her words at first, but he'd heard the sincerity in them, and he had to wonder: just how deep did those feelings of hers go? Did she want to be with him?

He'd barely seen her in weeks. He'd missed her—everything about her. He wanted more of her time, but it seemed as though he wasn't the only one. He was green with envy, and although he wasn't accustomed to it, he recognized it with chagrin and did what he always did when met with the emotion: he determined to erase the cause of it.

After everything they'd been through together, he thought, he'd be damned if he lost her now. Not without a fight.

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i purposely wrote the POV to be ambiguous in the last section...thoughts on whose POV it was: Draco's or Harry's?

Please review? I'd appreciate it!