A/N: I know, I know, once a week my ass. I'm incredibly sorry. If you want an explanation, I'll give you one at the end of this chapter.

For now... enjoy! :) review please, or else Scorpius will NEEEVER talk to Hermione hehehe (^w^)

Seriously, I don't know what to think of this chapter, so please tell me your thoughts!

His week was horrible.

There was just no way to sugarcoat it. First his confusing encounter with Granger, then his conversation with Blaise which went along the lines of "So, you got the hots for Hermione? Everyone's known that since Fourth Year, the sexual tension between you two was always so thick you could cut it with a knife, so what else is new?", followed by alternating between teasing his best friend and telling him "to get it", and guilt-tripping him because of Theo. Then there was a huge debacle because one of his stupid-as-fuck-employees made a mistake and paid a supplier 100,000 Galleons instead of 1000 as planned because he set a comma wrong and said supplier not feeling obliged to pay anything back.

Oh, and his son really liked Granger and actually asked him not to find him another counselor for a while.

And then...

There was skin, so much skin, his fingers drawing all over it, exploring hungrily. Soft hands were gripping at him, one tangled in his hair and the other pulling his dress shirt from his pants, its fingertips leaving a hot trail across his back. The mouth on his was even softer and hot, moving and parting his lips. A wet velvety tongue licked at his bottom lip before dipping in and touching his own, and he couldn't do anything but groan and tighten his grip on the creature on top of him. The hands were suddenly ripping at the front of his shirt, successfully opening it and scattering the popped buttons God only knows where. The next thing to go was his belt and zipper, and he noticed how painfully hard he was when he sighed at the lessened pressure. Then the lips left his own to suck at his neck, a jolt of electricity coursing down his spine and right to his groin. The person –it was definitely a woman judging by the curves of her tits he was currently feeling up- was searching and seemed to have found her destination when teeth dragged across his pulse point and elicited another groan from him, and then a near-animalistic growl as she bit down hard and her tongue soothed the reddened spot. Her fingertips were dragging across his chest and pinched his nipples lightly, rolling them between her fingers and he gasped at another jolt. Their was a wet sensation spreading over his torso as she licked between his clavicles and down his chest while her hand dipped under the elastic of his boxers and...

"Hermione!", he gasped himself awake and shot up into a sitting position on his bed, his blanket tangled around him in a way that suggested he had been writhing around quite a bit. He looked, fairly disoriented, around his majestic room for the witch and, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, came to the realization that it had only been a dream. Flopping back down on his bed and trying to ignore the throbbing in his boxers, he decided that he would really have to think about this new-found attraction to Her-Granger. He refused to acknowledge she had a first name, even if he had been moaning it in his sleep not two minutes ago. He couldn't control his dreams, but he could control what he said and thought in his moments of consciousness.

If it had only been about him, he would just cut her out of his life again, but it wasn't only about him anymore. He had a kid who had only 2 days ago come out of her office and specifically asked not to be moved and continue his sessions with her. And as much as he hated to admit it, he could actually already see a change in Scorpius' behaviour. His eyes took on a glint that was hard to describe whenever he came to pick him up after a session with Herm-Granger, and even if it was gone by the next day, it was improvement. If he didn't hate the witch so damn much, he would be impressed.

But did he hate her?

She irritated him, sure. At least, the Granger from school used to irritate him to no end. It was hard to accept that she may be a different person now, one because she sure as hell would never accept the same about him, and two, because she had really never shown any signs of being different...

Well, he again had to question those sentiments. He had on more than one occasion been surprised by her behaviour, whether it was something he only knew second-hand from Theo or witnessing something or the other.

Her appearance Friday a week ago and his reaction to it had certainly be surprising.

He groaned again and threw his arm across his eyes, shutting them tight and trying to come to a solution, or a conclusion, or at least something. He was attracted to her; no matter how disgusting that was supposed to be, it was a fact. Did he like her? He didn't know and decided on that spot that he wouldn't find out unless he talked to someone, someone who wouldn't judge him harshly and was calm and collected, who read him better than he did himself sometimes.

It was time to bring in reinforcements in the form of his other, secret best friend.

Little did he know, a witch across the country awoke from a similar dream, with similar thoughts and the exact same idea.

Ginny Potter, formerly Weasley, was a heavy sleeper. That was a widely known fact, and it was even worse since she entered the second trimester of her third pregnancy. Harry often debated with himself, when trying to wake her up, if she could sleep through a Howler being set off right next to her head, but as curious as he was, he was too scared to try.

Because another thing Ginny Potter was, was a fighter, and a scary one at that. She had fire in her not unlike the vibrant colour of her hair. And one could never really tell how she might react when angered, whether the fire would break out of her, ablazing, or quietly and unbeknownst to the poor person who had called her wrath upon themselves burned them alive.

But when she woke up and looked up to find two obviously distressed owls tapping on the window, and read the letters, it became apparent that her fire wasn't restricted to become alive when she was angry; it could manifest itself in fierce compassion as well.

She read the letter with the familiar neat script, which was almost calligraphy, first.

Good morning, Ginny!

Hope you and Harry and the kids are doing well.

How would you feel about catching up later? I actually have something I would very much like and need to talk to you about. If you feel up for it, of course.

Let me know.

Love,

Hermione

P.S. You really need a phone

Before she replied, she read the one with cursive but obviously masculine writing on it.

Hi Ginny,

Sorry I haven't been writing much lately, you know how stressed I've been. You know, it would be much easier to maintain contact if you finally got yourself a darn phone – if a former pure-blood bigot like me can accept the advantages, then you should have been using one even before they became the Wizarding world's number one form of communication.

I have a problem, and I really need to talk to you about it. You know I can't really go to Blaise about anything serious, and Theo is probably not the best choice for this matter.

Come over whenever, if you can, I won't be sleeping anymore anyway.

Love,

Draco

For a second she allowed herself to grin at her two friends and how similar their letters sounded, although their different characters definitely seeped through.

And then she realized how similar their letters sounded, and frowned. She would like to think that didn't mean anything, but her intuition was off the charts when she was pregnant, and something was telling her their problems had something to do with the other. She loved both of them dearly, although naturally, it had taken her ages to warm up to Draco, and she knew many people would disapprove of her friendship with the man – including immediate family, and she didn't feel like fighting them with everything going down with Hermione and Ron first and now Pansy and Percy.

After telling Hermione to come to her place for breakfast as soon as she got the message and Draco that she would be over in the afternoon, she got up to wake up her angelic beasts.

30 minutes later, Hermione walked into the kitchen of the Potter home and spotted her best friend pointing her wand at a frying pan so it tipped over and spilled the scrambled eggs on a plate.

"Hey Ginny!", she said a little too enthusiastically when she also noticed the tiny baby bump the ginger was sporting. She couldn't help herself though, and that was also a point of concern for her; she had initially never been incredibly fond of the idea of bringing children into the world, but ever since she started her sessions with Scorpius, she could feel her desire for children flaring. True, the boy never said anything, but his eyes would lit up and his mouth stretch into the widest, most adorable grins that did nothing but warm her heart. It was dangerous, getting attached at all, and even more so when the father of her patient was an insufferable, arrogant, simply mean and gorgeous arse.

"Wait, what?", she thought. "Where did that come from?" Although deep down, she knew exactly where it came from – the truth of the words.

"Hey Hermione, good morning! Help yourself, would you like some tea?", Ginny asked cheerfully. Her happiness infected Hermione immensely and she grinned.

"Yes please, thank you. And thank you for having me... Where are the kids?"

The redhead placed a cup of strong Earl Grey in front of her. "Outside playing Quidditch with Harry. Thank God for Saturdays. Now, what's wrong? And no beating around the bush, please." Hermione nodded, took a deep breath and considered what and how much she would share and her wording and...

She was over-thinking. She should just come straight out and say it.

"Ginny, I think I like Draco Malfoy."

Ginny apparated right to the patio adjacent to Draco's room, again astounded by the fact that he had altered the barriers around the Manor to let her pass through. It spoke of an inordinate amount of trust that she had never thought a Malfoy would have for her, or vice versa. She thought back to her conversation with Hermione that morning while waiting for him to open the door for her. The redhead was surprised she hadn't been more surprised, she simply sighed and allowed Hermione to get everything off her chest; how she had needed to meet him essentially at least once a week because of his son (followed by a near-panic attack for divulging that piece of information), how he was still harsh and sarcastic but that she apparently kind of enjoyed their banter, how she thought she noticed a different side to him, how complicated it was and then that it all didn't matter because he would never like her back anyway (and in that instant she sounded like her 16-year-old self again). After that, she apologized for "unloading on her" and immediately left without letting Ginny get a word in.

So now, the soon-to-be mother of three was waiting for the patio door to open, and when it did, she was pulled inside without a second's hesitation by a harried-looking Draco Malfoy who didn't greet her, didn't let her say anything before he blurted out:

"I think I like Hermione Granger."

Ginny sighed again, sat on the couch and got ready to hear more or less the same story that Hermione had given her this morning.

Sooo yeah. I was busy AND plagued by writer's block, so that's why this took so long. Good news though, I'm dropping out of college! Well, not exactly. I was studying something I didn't enjoy at all, business and money really isn't my thing, so now I'm applying to get a teacher's degree or if I'm lucky major in Psychology! Yay me? :) So that means, providing my writer's block doesn't come back, I'll actually be able to update much quicker now! Hoooraay!

Oh and, more Dramione interaction in the next chapter - pwomise!