[A/N: I wrote a third of this before I posted the last chapter, but in the process of revising and finishing and reading reviews... I added a chunk of other stuff. So here we are... the second part. Thank you so much for all the follows and favourites and reviews. I'm so sorry for taking ages to update and for this chapter... because...]

Chapter 9

Part 2: This Is Love?

He shouldn't have let Astoria in.

He should have immediately taken Scorpius from her arms and sent her on her way.

But he hadn't.

He hadn't.

She found them in the bedroom. Clothes were haphazardly strewn across the floor, a lacy violet bra hung from a lamp in the corner and the sheets were tangled around the two writhing bodies. Hermione looked at her boyfriend and his lover for a few seconds after surveying the room, turned and slammed the door behind her.

Seconds later, Viktor emerged, beautifully (unfortunately) dishevelled. His dark eyes were pleading and - Hermione noted with pleasure - slightly moist.

"Our bedroom?!" She felt cold, distant from the situation. It was unreal. This couldn't be happening. Viktor wouldn't... but he had!

He begged, "'Mione, please. It wasn't..."

"It wasn't what?"

"I'm sorry." Viktor hung his head and sunk down onto the sofa.

"You're sorry?"

"Mhmmm."

The rest of their conversation was short, clipped and cold. Hermione told him and his whore to get out of her apartment - for it had been hers before Viktor had moved in - within three minutes or she would hex them into the next century, or the one after that. The pair, Viktor disheartened and the girl smirking, left quickly. Hermione waited a full fifteen minutes, processing, before she sank down to the floor, her back against the door, and sobbed her heart out.

She'd taken the muggle test a month ago, had received confirmation from a Healer the next week, had told her parents three days ago, and now sat in Harry's kitchen, clutching a cup of tea for dear life as her best friends reacted to what she'd just told them.

"Y-you-you're..." Ron stuttered, his face slack.

"A baby?" Harry was similarly in shock, but held one of Hermione's hands in his own and offered a genuine smile. "You're going to be a mother!"

Hermione quickly changed the subject, as Ron had begun to turn a ghastly shade of puce, but eventually he broke his silence - she and Harry had been discussing Weasley family gossip - and managed to splutter, "B-but who's the father?"

She blushed, ducking her head with embarrassment, but simply said that she didn't want to talk about it and he wouldn't be involved in their child's life.

When Alice was finally handed to her, swaddled in a pink blanket, Hermione drew a deep breath. It was a happy, but surprised one. Her daughter did not resemble Viktor one bit, but she was startled by the uncanny resemblance the baby had to a man she had once seen in a photograph.

Very few people knew, but Viktor's father was not a Krum. Viktor only had one photo of him, the one photo his mother had managed to keep for him. The one time he had shown Hermione, she had noted the similarity of facial structure, but there was little further resemblance. The young man - in his mid-twenties at the taking of the picture - had very light blond hair and pale grey eyes. If she hadn't known any better, Hermione might have guessed that the Malfoys had produced an illegitimate son somewhere along the way.

Little Alice Granger was absolutely perfect. Hermione already loved the baby in her arms, had loved her for months, and the surging feelings of love, protection and pride were tinged with relief. Relief that no one would be able to figure out her father, that Viktor - forgetful meathead that he was - would forget about the photograph and his biological father... probably. If not, she could always lie.

In the following months and years, once Alice's hair had grown more blonde and her eyes showed no signs of darkening to Viktor's black, Hermione secretly celebrated that there were no visible signs that Alice Granger could ever have had the possibility of being Alice Krum.

"Draco? Draco, we're home! I need to talk to you about this morning," Hermione called, as soon as she stepped out of the fireplace with Alice, but there was no answer. There was the soft murmur of music from somewhere upstairs. The little girl skipped off to her room, muttering about 'old people' in a decidedly disgusted tone.

A superficial search of downstairs produced no Draco, but Hermione was drawn from her task by a squeal from Alice's room.

"Mum!"

There was a boy sitting, stunned, on the floor inside the room opposite. The formerly unused room. The room that was Scorpius'. Toys were scattered in a corner, as if he had been searching for something in particular, and a picture book lay abandoned in front of him. He gaped at Alice before turning his gaze to Hermione.

She smiled, extending her hand, "Hi, I'm Hermione. I'm a friend of your father's."

Scorpius stood and shook her hand gravely, "I'm Scorpius."

Alice came forward, now smiling, and said, "I'm Alice. Do you want to play in my room?"

The little boy grinned, a smirking grin, Hermione noted with a chuckle, that he had most likely learnt from his father. She left the two to their own devices - as only children they were quite obviously competent and independent enough to enjoy themselves on their own, let alone together - and set off to find Draco and tell him everything.

The door at the end of the hall was slightly ajar and, through it, she could hear the source of the music. Instead of calling out again, Hermione simply nudged the door open and stepped inside.

Draco, was her initial thought. Until she saw the intense look on his face, his closed eyes, his desperate growls, his rolling hips... the woman attached to those hips.

Hermione couldn't help her gasp of surprise before she turned and slammed the door behind her.

His mind was blissfully blank.

He focused on nothing but the feeling of Astoria riding him. Draco hadn't intended for it to go so far, but why the hell not? The woman-who-was-not-to-be-named had left him and he needed to forget about it all. What was better than fucking someone else?

They'd been in a rush. Draco could see her underwear discarded on the floor a few feet away and her skirt was pushed up to her waist. He was going to regret this, he worried.

He was thinking too much.

Way too much.

His hands gripped Astoria's hips, forcing her movements to become more erratic as he drew her in for a scorching kiss. His mind was blank, thinking of nothing but the pleasure that was surging up inside him. He wouldn't last much longer, he'd only had sex once in the last-NO.

Blank.

Blank.

Blank.

That's what he wanted.

He lift his hips slightly, eliciting a groan from the woman atop him. He was so close. Just a few more thrusts and h-

A sharp intake of breath carried from across the room and his eyes flew open, just in time to see Hermione storm out of the room.

FUCK.

FUCKING SHIT.

He might have wanted blankness but he didn't want her to see that, especially if he might still have a chance with her.

Did he have a chance with her?

Fucking hell, Draco, go after her, you nitwit!

Draco immediately paused and, dumping Astoria on the sofa beside him in his haste, ran out into the hall, his hastily discarded pants still around his ankles and already beginning to trip him.

He finally caught up with her at the top of the stairs and he took the opportunity to pull up his pants, "Hermione, please. It wasn't..."

She froze for a second, as if she had remembered something important, but continued on her way.

"I think it's exactly what it looked like!" Hermione shrieked, gesturing toward his state of undress.

His eyes blazed, "Alright, so maybe it is exactly what it looked like. But why should you care? Why? Because I seem to remember you leaving in a bit of a rush this morning after thanking me for telling you that I love you."

"Perhaps I just needed some time to process. Perhaps I was planning on coming home tonight and telling you that I love you too. Did you consider that? No?"

Draco gaped, moving closer to her. "You-"

"No! You don't get to hear me tell you anything. I just found you fucking Astoria fucking Greengrass... you do not get to say anything now. Or ever."

She crossed to the stairs and took them two steps at a time, stumbling on the last but catching herself on the bannister. Draco reached out, as if to help, but quickly drew his hand back when he was faced with a cold glare. Grabbing her bag from where she'd thrown in on the floor in her haste to find him, Hermione finally turned to face him properly.

"We were friends once..." He began, shifting uncertainly at the foot of the stairs. He was nervous, for once in his life. Hermione Granger made him nervous. It was an unsettling realisation but one not without reason. He loved her. He fucking loved her and he'd majorly screwed up.

"...and now we aren't," Hermione finished. "We're nothing."

"I love you! And you love me! We're in love!"

"This is love? This isn't fucking love. We both may have had feelings - decidedly different ones, apparently - but whatever we felt doesn't matter anymore. We're done."

"We have something. You can't just ignore that," Draco cried, one hand absently ruffling his already messy hair.

Hermione frowned, "I hated you when we were at school, and apparently I had good reason to."

"I'm not that boy anymore! I've changed. You know I've changed."

"Maybe you haven't."

"Fuck it!" Draco was sick of pleading. It wasn't even working, "I have changed. We both know that I've changed. I've made mistak-"

"MISTAKES?! You call having sex with another woman a mistake?"

"It was a mistake. And we weren't even together! I told you I loved you and you fucking ran away. How did I know you were going to come back?"

"If you truly loved me then you wouldn't have fucked your ex-wife when my feelings were cast into doubt," Hermione growled.

"I was hurt."

"You were stupid."

"The charade is over, Malfoy. Our fake engagement is off. Alice and I will be out of the house within the hour."

His heart clenched uncomfortably, "No-"

"Goodbye, Draco, and have a nice life."