A/N: I'm back! I got caught up reading a book, I'm afraid and I just lost the time to write. I'm back and I'm thinking about doing another story now that I've got time off school. What do you think? It's another Hermione/Draco... but it's not as fun as this one is...
Draco had waited in the living room until Hermione had finally fallen asleep on the sofa, before going upstairs to get dressed. He didn't think it was a good idea for him to stay around in his towel. If one of her dorky friends came over, then he'd probably have a lot of explaining to do. He took the stairs two at a time, and just pulled on a pair of sweats and a baggy tee-shirt. He didn't have to make a ginant effort, he wasn't going anywhere.
Although he did have work tomorrow and he hoped that Hermione was feeling better by then because otherwise he didn't want to leave her. He felt that he was supposed to be looking after her whilst they were on this course together and he didn't think that leaving her whilst he went to work was a case of looking after her. It was more like neglecting her. He pulled a brush through his hair and then looked at his face in the mirror. He had bags under his eyes, and felt like he'd been tortured and abused for weeks. He knew Hermione felt worse, probably a lot worse. He knew she'd been having some troubles sleeping, because he'd been woken up in the night a few times by her. He'd never said anything though, he didn't want her to feel bad for waking him up.
Giving up on trying to smooth out his eyes, he put the brush back down on the sideboard, and began his descent down the stairs, heaving back in the living room to make sure that Hermione was still asleep. She needed her rest, plus the more rest she got right now, she might be feeling better tomorrow and Draco would be able to go in to work. It wasn't like he was looking forwards to working, but he knew that they needed the money, it had only been about two weeks and she was already five months pregnant, so he gathered that they had about another two weeks, maybe less.
Whilst they still had enough to buy the basics that they'd need, they'd still need more money for things like more nappies and baby food. He'd heard of a few parents that babies went through nappies like nothing. It made Draco wonder how many times a baby found it appropriate to pee? He was also dreading having to change a nappy, but knew that Hermione would probably make him. That was one woman you couldn't mess around, if she told him to do something, it would probably be easier for him to just do it. Otherwise they'd end up arguing, and then he'd get hurt and end up doing what she asked in the first place, so yeah, it was must easier for him to just get on with it the first time around, instead of having to do it with a broken arm the next time.
He watched her sleep, and whilst that was creepy sounding, it really was just an innocent thing. She looked peaceful, and not like she'd been fighting for her life since she was eleven. He knew that he was getting closer to her, the kisses they'd shared at her Birthday were anvil sized clues to that, but he wasn't quite sure what he did feel for her. Was he crushing on her, or was it digging deeper than that? He was never good at dealing with his emotions, or anyone else's, and he'd never really felt anything more than lust or attraction for the few girls he'd dated. He'd only dated a couple, and he'd broken it off with them when it became obvious they were getting obsessed with him. He didn't need clingy girls after him; he'd prefer to be alone. Pansy was the top of that list, as soon as he'd agreed to go out with her, on one date, she began to follow him around like she was a sheep dog, and he the sheep. It freaked him out and made him uncomfortable. He'd been scared of taking a shower!
He sighed and let that particular train of thought drop, before standing up. He was hungry, and Hermione was asleep so it looked like he was in charge of making food. He usually only had cereal at this hour, but because Hermione was in and he figured that she had to eat too, he was going to try and make something proper.
He walked in to the kitchen, and looked around with a frown on his face. Where did he start? Why was he so confused? He pulled open the fridge and looked in to it, before closing it. It was full of healthy stuff, and Draco just didn't feel like being healthy today. He looked in to the freezer and grinned. There were all sorts of things in here, and hardly any of them seemed to sound all that healthy. That was good. He pulled out a box, and looked at the back of it. It had instructions on how to cook. That was even better. He wouldn't have to try and figure it out. The instructions were right there! He looked at the front again, and found he'd taken out chicken fillets. Was he supposed to put stuff with this? He gathered that he was.
Opening the cupboards, he looked around and found a packet of savoury rice. That would work. He still had no idea what he was doing, but he was trying, and that was the point. Even if he'd done it wrong, at least he'd tried.
Hermione woke up to the smell of smoke. It didn't click at first, nor did it click that she was on the sofa. Until she heard Draco curse, loudly. She jumped up, her queasiness forgotten for the moment, and ran in to the kitchen. There was dark grey smoke billowing around the place, and Draco was stood in front of the oven, spluttering.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked him, covering her mouth. She tried to see what was in the oven, and instead saw a pan of rice – well, that obviously wasn't what was causing the smoke. That looked okay, apart from there was no water left in the pan, and the rice was beginning to burn.
"I was trying to cook, and you were asleep. I didn't want to wake you up." He shrugged, and pulled open the oven, his hands bare. "Ow!"
Hermione rolled her eyes, "Put your hand under the cold water, now, and don't take it away until I tell you that you can." She pulled a dish towel down, and wrapped it around her hand, before pulling the door open and dragging the try of...chicken (?) out and dropping it on top of the side. It was turning a dark shade of black around the edges, but the reason it had started to smoke? Draco hadn't even took off the plastic bag that covered the chicken. At least he'd taken it out of the box, she supposed.
"What happened?" Draco asked, unsure as to why his dinner had died on him.
"You didn't take it out of the wrapping." Hermione told him simply, "Go on in there, and I'll cook. You can take your hand away now. Does it feel sore? It's not blistered, has it?"
Draco shook his head, and turned off the cold tap. He was useless at this sort of stuff, and he really had no idea how he was supposed to be looking after Hermione.