Thanks to all my reviewers!

ah: If you read my summary, the story is "rated R" for "language." If you'd like less swearing, read a PG or PG-13. I'm from the South and I'm Irish so I really enjoy cursing. I can't help it! Oh - and "fuck."

wired dud: I really enjoy criticism, so if you could just let me know WHERE it got uncool, it'd be a good thing. Thanks.

Chapter Twenty-Three: Owling

Hermione had lied. She hadn't been tired, but the feeling of Lucius in her mind, and his grandchild in her stomach was far too much to handle. She'd so wanted the baby to be Ron's. If Ron had been the baby's father, life would be easier. She could run back to him. Apologize to him. She could have married him and joined the ever-large Weasley family and had about four or five more kids after this one, but now... she stroked her smooth skin that covered her stomach. Why had she chosen Draco? Maybe it had been the way he had looked at her, with such intense sadness, that night. Or the way he had seemed to disrespect her in the nicest ways possible whenever he'd pinned her against her bedroom wall. But then he had ruined everything and she was fucking stuck with him now. She tossed about in the bed, and looked towards the ceiling, but gasped slightly when she saw her reflection. Bollocks! Was there no escaping herself?
The hippogriff down comforter enveloped her and she felt so incredibly comfortable in that bed, but the millions of thoughts running through her head plagued her. She needed to write a letter. Hermione got up, and, opening the door, spied a bypassing house elf.
"Um, excuse me?" She sighed meekly, and the frazzled looking elf looked up.
"Oh! What cans Kunko do for master's guest?" He asked in deep but frightened sounding voice. Hermione laughed and squatted until she was eye- level with him.
"You don't need to serve me, Kunko, but I could definitely use some parchment and an owl if its not too much trouble."
"Oh, whatever master's guests wants is not to much for Kunko!" He spat excitedly, and ran off. As he did so, he slipped and fell and soon Hermione saw why, as Draco rounded the corner.
"Kunko apologizes for getting in master's well."
"As right you should, Kunko, but erm... be on your way." He replied, and Kunko skitted off, frightened. Hermione stared him down from across the hall. "What?"
"Why do you speak to him like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like he's your... servant."
"Well, he is my servant. My fourteenth birthday present."
"Your family disgusts me."
"I'll chock that up to the mood swings."
"Sod off, Malfoy," she said, turning back to enter the room. "I need to be getting back to my house soon. Where are my things?"
"Oh? And how are your filthy muggle parents going to react when they find out you've got a bewitched bun in the oven? I reckon they'll throw you a disgusting party with ugly little blue and pink balloons and sing songs and shite. They'll be downright joyous, right?"
"Well, no, but-"
"So what are they gonna do, Granger? I don't know if you've noticed, but that child is half-mine. I have a say in where it goes."
"Excuse me? The only say you had in this child involved a bunch of drugs and one really stupid weekend, okay? I can handle this on my own. I already told you."
"Look," Draco said, stepping closer to her. "That baby is going to be so much more than my sperm. So much more than one orgasm on the bed of a grand-prefect."
"What?"
"I'll explain it all to you in a while. But as for now, my father is sending for your things."
"Where did my things end up?"
"They were on their way to your silly muggle suburb in London, but he managed to catch the courier-wizard who had them."
"Why?"
"Just for a few days until I can sit you down and let you know how things are going to be."

Uncle Vernon looked up as Harry burst through the front door, tossing his trunk furiously into the cupboard under the stairs and thundering up to his room.
"Hey, boy! I thought you were staying with those bloody freaks for the summer!"
"Shut up, Uncle Vernon!"
"What are you doing home?!" He yelled angrily up the stairs.
"I don't want to talk about it, just forget I exist, okay? For once I want you to, okay?!" Harry cried, and Vernon shrugged.

Upstairs, Harry threw himself onto the bed and felt his blood coursing like fire through his veins. He'd been wondering for the last two months what the tiny flashes in his mind were. How he felt closer to Ginny than he should. And why his dreams had suddenly become the things of a channel Dudley watched on the three televisions in his room late at night.
He should have known. But now he'd been kicked out of the Weasley house not by Ron or Fred or George or Arthur or Molly, but by Ginny. Ginny, who had cried for two hours while locked in the bathroom before telling him she hated him and to go home. Ginny, whom Harry had been thinking about non- stop since he'd fancied the first day of his sixth year. Why had it taken him so long to come around? And now she'd said she never wanted to his "fucking scarred up face" ever again.
He looked up as an unfamiliar owl clacked and scratched against his window. The owl looked expensive and quite pompous – its arrogance could give Hedwig a run for her money. He opened the window and removed the rolled up scroll. Peeling it open, he immediately recognized the painstakingly perfect handwriting.

Harry,

I did not know whom to write, and seeing as you are the least likely to hate me right now, I have decided to write to you. I know that I am probably the last possible person you want to hear from right now – especially after I refused to tell you whom else I slept with and it ended up being Malfoy, but I feel like I should explain myself.
I only slept with him out of pity. He came to me crying. Crying, Harry, and I just could not turn him down. But after it was over, I realized I'd made a horrible mistake. I would have gotten my memory modified, but I never got around to it. Thank God, because now I have a baby on the way and I am so lost and Draco has taken me back to his home. I thought Lucius was going to rape me right there in front of Draco, but he performed this very frightening type of legilimency on me and... Harry, the baby is Draco's. I do not know what to do. I think the Malfoy family has some huge plans for my baby and I just wanted to handle it alone or – with Ron.
I do not care what you have to say, but please, write me back. I cannot tell you where I am staying, but please do not contact my parents.

My love for always,
Hermione

Harry stared at the owl, and took out parchment and a quill.

Hermione,

Want some advice? Try not to be a lying whore. And next time I ask you to blast away something important from my memory, don't. I hope you and Malfoy have fun raising the little bastard.

Sincerely.
Harry James Potter

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