A twig snapped. Draco had always been told he slept lightly, with one eye open. It was really due to years of conditioning, waiting for his father to come in every night. Fully awake now himself, he reached over and nudged Harry to wake him as quietly as possible.

"Psst…Potter. Harry!"

"Wha…? Ron, leave me alone…"

"Potter, unless you wish to die today, you need to get your lazy ass up!" Draco hissed.

This time, Harry shot upright. He looked around to see Draco huddled on the ground, grasping his wand firmly between his fingers. Harry whispered as lightly as he could.

"What is it, Malfoy?"

Draco motioned to the trees on the far side of the clearing they were in. They hadn't seen or heard from anyone or anything in weeks. As far as they both knew, no one had been aware of their whereabouts. Harry nodded, retrieving his own wand in turn. Making motions of a countdown with his fingers, 3…2…1….

"Stupefy!" They yelled in unison. The spell that shot out of their wands at the same time would render anyone that was traipsing about in the woods completely helpless. Harry ran across the clearing, followed closely by Draco. He stopped, and could not help but laugh at the sight before him. Draco slowed down as he heard Harry's laughter.

"What the hell has got into you, Potter?"

Harry couldn't even manage to get a word out in between his efforts to breath enough oxygen to keep from passing out. He pointed in front of him, and with a sigh Draco mumbled the counter curse.

"Enervate."

Lying on the ground was Draco's former house elf, Dobby. To think they had been frightened out of a dead sleep because of a house elf. The poor thing shook its head two or three times, then looked at them both excitedly.

"Come, come. Masters Draco and Harry Potter must be coming with Dobby. Please come!"

Harry kneeled down to the creature's height and spoke slowly and calmly so as not to frighten it further.

"What's wrong, Dobby? Why are you here? Come to think of it, how did you find us?"

The house elf straightened up, removing his tea cozy from his head to scratch its baldness, then replaced it firmly in its spot.

"Master Draco, Dobby was your house elf since Master was born. I know where Master is at all times. But come! Masters Draco and Harry Potter must come and come quickly!"

Draco looked at him curiously and shook his head. "But why, Dobby? Why must we come?"

Exasperated, the elf's tone relayed his irritation.

"Because Ronald Weasley said so. The red-headed friend of Harry Potter came to Hogwarts to look for Dobby, he did. He says, 'Go and fetch Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, because Miss Hermione is in trouble! So Dobby does as he says. Dobby comes to find Masters Draco and Harry Potter."

Draco jumped forward and grabbed his former house elf by its tattered clothing. "What's wrong with Hermione, Dobby? Tell us what's wrong!"

Dobby looked sadly at the ground, for in truth he did not know.

"Dobby does not know, sirs. Dobby only comes to fetch Masters Draco and Harry Potter because Harry Potter's friend was crying, sirs."

Draco's face turned white as a crisp bed sheet. It was something that Harry's keen eyes did not fail to miss. He turned and put a hand on Malfoy, who in turn put his own in Dobby's. He set his jaw and looked at the elf.

"Take us there, Dobby."

Poof. In an instant they were gone.

...

Ronald Weasley nearly jumped out of his own skin when he turned around to see Dobby the house elf with Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy in tow. They were standing in the middle of his brothers' kitchen. He didn't hear them apparated, and they managed to nearly give him a heart attack right there amongst the dirty dishes.

"Bloody hell! Do you think you could give a guy a little warning when you enter a room?"

Harry smiled warmly at his old friend, while Draco – being typical Draco Malfoy – looked down his nose at the equally tall, red-headed young man. Harry shook his head at the two and got to the point.

"Ron, focus. Where's Hermione?"

"Oh yeah, right Harry. Let's go."

Ron led them to the fireplace in his brothers' living room and grabbed a bag of floo powder off the mantel. They each took a pinch and looked curiously at Ron as he called out their destination.

"St. Mungo's!" he yelled as he threw the powder into the fireplace and disappeared in a whoosh of green flame.

One by one they exited the grand fireplace in the lobby of St. Mungo's Magical Hospital. Ron dusted himself off with one hand while quickly walking to the information desk to find out where Hermione was situated.

"Excuse me, but could you tell me where Hermione Granger is?"

The young receptionist twirled a strand of pitch black hair around one finger and popped a bubble through the gum in her mouth. She lazily looked up names on the stack of paper in front of her, much to the annoyance of the three young gentlemen standing before her. It was Harry who lost his patience first.

"Look, I don't know what your job is here, but do you think you could concentrate for ten seconds and look up the last name Granger, first name Hermione?"

The girl blinked a few times. She obviously was dumbstruck that Harry Potter, whom she just now recognized, was standing there yelling at her in front of Merlin and everybody else.

"S-sorry. Let me see…. Oh, right; here it is! Yes; Ms. Hermione Granger is on floor 5, section C. That's the labor and delivery wing."

Draco and Harry were beyond puzzled. They turned and looked at Ron, who just shrugged. Draco spoke first.

"All right Weasley just spit it out."

Ronald was not moved. He had promised George not to say anything; just to get them there to the hospital. If his brother wanted to spill the beans, that was his own problem.

"Uh, sorry mate. I can't tell you something I don't know. George is upstairs waiting, so let's get on up there, okay?" He turned with his eyes downcast and murmured to his best friend. "Sorry man, there's nothing I can tell."

Harry nodded. "Come on, Malfoy. Let's go see what this is all about, and why our girl is in a wing for mothers giving birth?"

Draco's lips were drawn in a thin line. There is no 'our girl'. She's either mine or yours. She cannot be both. But he didn't wish to voice those thoughts. He figured the icy stare he was giving the two Gryffindors would be sufficient enough to convey what he was thinking.

As they arrived at the nurses' desk, Ron spotted George sitting in the adjacent waiting room. Followed by the two other young men, he made a beeline to the soft leather chairs. George looked up at the three, a distraught expression on his features.

"Hello Ron. Harry. Malfoy."

They all nodded in return. Ron leaned down and whispered in his brother's ear as the others went to take a seat. "You've got to say something, George. They look like they're going to bite someone's head off!"

George nodded. He knew this time would eventually come. The only two wizards that Hermione had ever truly been in love with were sitting there in front of him. Their faces wore identical expectant looks, and he knew then that he was the only person besides the love of his life that would be able to make those looks go away. He took a big, deep breath and started.

"Okay, listen to me. No blowing up. No yelling. No arguing. It won't help anything, or anyone. First and foremost, Hermione is in a delivery room right now, and the mediwitches and a mediwizard in charge are doing everything they can to save the baby and her life. Understood?"

Draco and Harry began sputtering, only to be quickly silenced by George as he held up a palm.

"Let me finish. There's a lot more to the story, if you'll wait and listen." He waited until satisfied that he had their full and undivided attention before continuing. "All right. Hermione has been staying with Fred and me since she was four months pregnant. We've been taking care of her. She left school early; graduated with full N.E.W.T.s." George smiled in remembrance and could see Hermione's face again, that first day she'd come into the shop. "She really is the smartest witch of your age, you know. Anyway, we gave her a job, a place to stay, and she took care of us, too. There's a little room set up above the shop for her and the baby if they come home…. When they come home, I mean."

Harry was tired of George's long, drawn-out explanation. He leaned forward, twisting his hands back and forth before getting up the courage to ask what they were all wondering.

"George, who's the father? You?"

The older red-headed man sighed aloud, an ironic smile crossing his lips. "No, Harry. If I should be so lucky. No, the father of Hermione's baby is…." But George didn't get a chance to finish. Right then, one of the nurses from the delivery room came in to the waiting area.

"George Weasley?"

George stood up, looking at her anxiously. "Yes?"

"Ms. Granger's baby is in the nursery now. But the young lady is still in surgery. She had quite a lot of blood loss, and the mediwizard has yet to get her BP regulated. I'm sorry, but that is all I can tell you at this time."

Pale as a ghost, George nodded, walking backward to his seat. He would have missed the chair if it weren't for the hand that his younger brother had put out to guide him there.

"Th-thanks Ron. I-I'm sorry, you guys. Sorry for everything…."

Take care and please review.

- M.