A/N Hello everyone. A big thank you to all who have left reviews for the last chapter. For those who liked Draco in last chapter, there is more Malfoy (a different one) in this chapter.
The theme in this short entry is "what could have been". This is another chapter with emotions a bit all over the map. Sometimes we are glad things didn't go in another direction and sometimes we really wish they had gone differently. There is all of that in this chapter.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy. If you do, please review.
Disclaimer: honestly, do I have to say it again? Not mine.
What Could Have Been
Narcissa Malfoy looked at the photograph on the front page of the Daily Prophet. It came as no shock to her that it was another one of Harry Potter, this time accompanied by Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic. Shacklebolt was shaking Potter's hand and extolling the latest exploits of the Boy Who Lived.
The Boy Who Lived thanks to her she thought mirthlessly. She wondered what would have happened if she had not taken the greatest risk of her life and lied to the Dark Lord. Shacklebolt would certainly not be Minister of Magic, nor would Arthur Weasley be Senior Undersecretary. Both would most likely be in hiding or even dead. She certainly would not be known as the greatest traitor amongst the few remaining Deatheaters nor would she still be sneered at by other blood traitors and Mudbloods because she was a Malfoy née Black. Lucius would probably not drink so much, despairing over the loss of his former glory. No, Lucius would probably be enduring another bout of torture for having displeased the Dark Lord in one way or another. And Draco, her beloved Draco? Her only son would most likely not be this moody teenager who spent most of his days locked up in his room, softly crying when he thought nobody was listening. Draco would most likely be dead and she would never have seen him again. Narcissa then knew that despite all, she would make the exact same decision if it was to be done again.
Hermione could hear Ron reading a story to Rose and Hugo. The children were enrapt in their father's storytelling and were for once quiet. A smile formed on her lips. Ron was a good father, there was no doubt.
She opened the drawer of her bedside table. There they were, baby pictures of her children. She had known love before having them, she mused thoughtfully as she took a picture of a baby Rose, her blue eyes wide open, looking curiously at the world, her curly red hair framing her full face perfectly. Yes, Hermione had known love but nothing to the one she came to feel when she held the little bundles in her arms she thought as she looked at a baby Hugo waving fat little fists at the camera, a happy smile on his face and in his brown eyes.
She then found the third picture. It was only the print-out of a Muggle sonogram. Ron could have been a wonderful father to another child. She could have held another baby in her arms before her other two children. She remembered the elation in Ron's face when she had shown him the picture and told him she was pregnant. She also remembered the concern and sorrow she had seen in his eyes a few weeks later as she had lain in a cold bed at St Mungo's. She had known losses before that fateful trip to St Mungo's but nothing had compared to that feeling of emptiness and utter despair that came over her as she listened to a healer telling her that the little miracle from the Muggle sonogram was no more.
Ron looked at his wife swishing her wand to make boxes move around the room neatly. Hermione was trying to organize the bedroom. He came behind her and surprised her with a soft kiss at the nape of her neck. She let out a shriek of laughter and sent one box askew, spilling its content all over the floor.
He laughed and told her he would get the box off the floor. He kissed her once more and bent down to retrieve the box content. He found old pictures of their time at Hogwarts. One of them was of Dumbledore's Army during their fifth year. They both were there in the front, flanking Harry on each side. He saw Ginny, Fred, and George next to him. And he froze as he saw Lavender just behind him.
Lavender. He had wondered many times what would have happened if he had not been poisoned on his seventeenth birthday. Would he have kept going out with Lavender? Would she have ditched him anyway? Would Hermione have ever talked to him again? Would he have followed her and Harry on the Horcrux hunt? Would Hermione have ever kissed him, let alone become his wife? He doubted it. He also doubted he would have been very happy.
He put the picture back in the box before Hermione levitated it to a shelf. Her eyes were mischievous and her mouth still turned up in a smile and took his breath away. He couldn't help himself and gathered her in his arms before planting a loud kiss on her lips. Being poisoned had been the best birthday present he had ever had.
A/N For the second story, I guess I am not very original as I have read a few fanfics regarding Hermione miscarrying. It is a sad thing but just seemed to fit in this chapter.
