The appointment with Dr. Haggler on Tuesday afternoon went well. She was well into her fourth month by this time and Dr. Haggler informed her that she might be able to feel a butterfly-type of movement in her stomach.

"Wait until after you've eaten and you're relaxed and comfortable," he told her, smiling as she consciously put her hand to her stomach. "You might be able to feel the butterflies."

Hermione took this advice and spent most of Tuesday evening on the couch with her hand to her stomach. She didn't feel much of anything except for a few light flutters on the inside.

Harry and Ron sat on the sofa across from her, watching her with intent interest. Draco was hovering about the doorway, surveying the scene through cold eyes. He wasn't entirely sure he liked having these old friends of Hermione's in the house, but he didn't want to upset her by telling her to have them leave. Hermione had promised they were only staying until Thursday; he was sure he could make himself behave for two more days.

"Have you thought about names?" Harry asked, sitting back on the sofa and stretching out.

Hermione glanced at Draco. "Well, we were thinking Gouda Malfoy," she said seriously, relishing the looks of horror on their faces. "Or maybe Bologna Malfoy if it's a girl."

Ron sputtered. "You have got to be kidding me!"

"Nope." Hermione shook her head. "It was Draco's idea."

"Yeah," Draco chipped in. "Veal Malfoy was an option, too, but we liked the sound of Gouda better."

She couldn't take it anymore. Hermione burst out laughing at the dismayed looks on her friends' faces. "We're joking!" she cried, throwing her hands up in the air. "I mean, they were considerations, but they were eliminated early in the drafting."

Harry sighed and relaxed even deeper into the sofa. "Thank goodness you were joking. I don't want to think of the teasing that poor child would go through." He took another sip of his Butterbeer. "Seriously, though, what names have you decided on?"

"We've eliminated about fifty," Hermione said, motioning for Draco to sit beside her. "And that leaves us with about ninety nine right now."

Draco took the spot on the arm of the chair Hermione was sitting in. "It was a tough decision," he said mockingly.

Ron looked stunned. "How are you going to choose in time?"

"Ron, we still have almost five months to go!"

"Almost four," Draco reminded her.

"Whatever the time period is," Hermione snapped, "we still have plenty of time to think about it." She finished her drink of pumpkin juice and yawned. "I think I'll go up to bed soon. I'm feeling a little sluggish."

"I'll go with you," Draco said, finishing his own drink of Butterbeer and setting the mug down on the table.

Hermione stared at him. "Why? You never go to bed before eleven; it's almost nine."

"Yeah." Draco faked a yawn. "I'm a little tired myself from a long day. Have a good night," he said to Ron and Harry before heading up the staircase. "I'll meet you upstairs, Hermione."

"Yeah," she said, waving distantly at him. "Are you guys staying up for awhile?"

Harry nodded. "I am. I've got a lot to daydream about."

"When's that ever changed?" Ron questioned and ducked to avoid being whacked with a pillow that was behind Harry. "Sorry, but it's true." He looked back to Hermione.

"We're going to leave Thursday morning. We've got to get back to the store."

"And back to Abby," Harry teased. "Heaven forbid you don't get that date in Thursday night."

Hermione felt another pang of misery. Ron was hurrying away from her when he hadn't seen her in three years to meet up with a girl he's only known for a few weeks? That hurt, she had to admit, and she hurried upstairs to bed before they had a chance to question her on it.

"You just didn't want to stay down there with them alone," Hermione said after Draco had turned out the lights that night. "You're such a chicken."

"Maybe I am," Draco confessed. "But at least I'm a nice enough guy to pretend to be nice to your friends when secretly I can't stand them."

"That's not such a secret anymore, is it?" Hermione muttered, burying her face in her pillow. Her hand was still on her stomach as she was hoping to feel something other than the fluttering that felt like she was extremely nervous.

"I guess not." Draco was silent for a moment and Hermione started to drift off. "Why do you like them still?"

Her eyes popped back open. "Harry and Ron?"

"Yeah."

She shrugged into the darkness. "I don't know. They're my best friends from school; shouldn't I like them? Is there something wrong with that?"

"No, nothing wrong," Draco replied quickly before Hermione had a chance to get upset. "I was just wondering what they have that I don't."

"Their own store," Hermione joked. She rolled over and kissed him on the cheek. "I married you, though, didn't I?"

"Yeah. But why did you want to keep in contact with them? You haven't talked for so long."

"I told you," she answered. "They were my school friends. Unlike someone else who called me a Mudblood every chance they got and tried to make my life a living hell."

"Please don't bring Crabbe or Goyle into this," Draco joked and Hermione shoved him playfully.

"I'm going to sleep now," she said, rolling back over to face the window. "I have to work early in the morning. Goodnight."

"Night."

Darkness closed in deeper as Draco's breathing became steadier. But no matter how tired she was, Hermione still lay awake. What Draco had asked got her thinking. Why did she really want to hang around with Ron and Harry? They hadn't gone to any lengths to make contact over the three years either. They were just as guilty as she was. And why was she busting her butt to keep her friendship with them when Ron wasn't even willing to stay the full day of Thursday because he had a date with another girl? Was it really worth it?

No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, there was a pulsating memory in the back of her brain. It showed the teenage Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, being playful and goofy with one another. But the two men sitting in her living room were different. Sure, they made the same jokes and laughed at the same things, but there was something different about them that Hermione couldn't quite put her finger on. Maybe it was the fact that the two of them had single-handedly destroyed her living room with a party that seemed to last all weekend long. Or maybe it was the fact that Ron talked non-stop about his newfound love. Or maybe it was the fact that Harry hadn't been the same since their fifth year when he lost someone he truly cared for.

Or maybe they had just grown apart.