Chapter Two: Nothing is fair in Love and War

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except for characters that I invented, of course, and by the by, this story is based on situations created by the marvelous J.K. (please don't sue me!)

A/N: Thanks to my fantastical beta, Madam Celeste

Harry sat in the dank kitchen; he did not want to be here. The very existence of this dwelling reminded him of Sirius, every wall, every rug, every arched ceiling.

The curtains were partially drawn and a grey stormy light filtered in through the murky windows.

Harry drummed his fingers absentmindedly on the table top. Remus was late, due to the storm. He was supposed to be bringing a ministry official to help raid the house for Sirius's will.

There was nothing that Harry could possibly want here, everything he wanted, he had, just a box of Sirius's old school things.

"Harry!" said a voice from behind him.

Harry nearly jumped out of his seat as he spun around.

"Neville?" he asked unbelievingly. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh," Neville said. "I'm here to help with the will," he stumbled as he took a seat. "Department of Magical Estate Business!" he beamed proudly.

"Oh," Harry said, "where's Remus?"

"Right here," Said a voice in the door way.

Remus Lupin had just stepped in the kitchen, robes in slightly better condition, hair a little more grey than the last time Harry had seen him.

"Harry," he said with a fatherly smile, "I thought we'd look in his mother's room first."

"Yeah," Harry said gloomily, "that's a good idea."

As the three of them walked along the corridors Remus attempted to make small talk with little avail.

"So how's Luna?" he asked.

Harry did not want to talk about Luna, he did not want to be here, and he did not want to read Sirius's will. He said nothing but merely shrugged.

Thinking of Luna brought an unbidden sense of unease, just thinking about last week when he had seen the engagement ring in her purse. Is that what she wanted? To get married? Is that what he wanted?

Well, yes, it was. He had always wanted the family that he had never had. But not now! These were dangerous times.....

"Here we are," Remus was saying, ushering Harry and Neville inside.

"Bit depressing, isn't it?" Neville asked.

Harry nodded gravely, it certainly was depressing.

Tattered old velvet curtains hung in the oversized window, dressers and wardrobes hung open, and rat bones littered the floor. Several boxes, with what looked like miscellaneous items and papers, were unceremoniously cast throughout the room.

For the next two hours they overturned boxes and sifted through old birth certificates. But it seemed that anything that had belonged to Sirius was in one place.

Over the next half hour Harry found even more useless documents, each one becoming more so.

"Hey Harry!" Neville said excitedly. "I think I've found something!"

Harry and Remus crouched down to the bit of carpet that Neville was occupying. Yes, he had found something, the thing, in fact.

It was an old cigar box that had been enchanted to fit several large, official looking documents inside of it.

"Yes, you have found something Neville," Remus said approvingly. "Let's take this downstairs."

As they sat down at the table Neville looked tremendously excited. It was probably his first assignment, Harry thought mildly.

Neville picked up the parchment importantly and began to read aloud;

"'Will, Reading of the twenty first of November, year –,'"

"Neville," Harry implored, "could you just skip ahead to the reading? Please?"

Neville looked around nervously for a second, "Al-alright," he stuttered, "but I'm not supposed to, you know."

"Thank you," Harry said.

"I, Sirius Black, of sound, mind, and body, do hereby---,"

"Neville?"

"Sorry," he said quickly, before straitening out the parchment. "To my cousin Andromeda Tonks, I leave my gobstones collection,"

"Ah," Remus said fondly, "I had nearly forgotten how much they used to play when we were in school... Oh, go on, Neville," he said.

"To my Godson, Harry Potter, I leave my body and personal belongings, to include my wand, and trunk. And to my..." Neville trailed off, a perplexing look covered his round face.

"What is it Neville?" Remus asked.

Neville did not answer him, he merely handed him the parchment. Remus placed silver rimed bifocals on the bridge of his nose and looked at the will. His ash colored eyes widened in shock, his mouth hung slightly open.

"My god," he muttered to himself "it was always assumed she had died with Veronica"

"What?" Harry said,

Remus didn't answer.

"What is it?" he asked before grabbing the parchment out of his hands.

"Wait Harry---," Remus started, but Harry had already read too much.

"To my daughter, Cressinda Black, I leave my family house, Gringotts bank account, and house elf."

"Daughter," he said slowly. "Harry..."

"Daughter!?" he said this time, more loudly.

"I tried to explain before---," Remus said.

"Daughter!" Harry shouted.

"Harry,"

"Why didn't anyone---,"

"Harry you don't---,"

"How could you keep this from me?! How could---,"

"Harry, listen to me!" Remus said sharply. "I can only imagine what you must be thinking. But believe me when I tell you that I didn't intend for you to hear it this way."

"Hear what!" he demanded. "That Sirius had a daughter?!"

Crash! Neville had just broken his tea cup in fright, but it was ignored.

"Harry," Remus said patiently, "calm down and I will start from the beginning."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco lay exhausted on his four poster bed. Phaedra, his fiancée, lay next to him. Her chestnut hair fanned out on his silk sheets. Her conception potion lay an empty bottle on his night stand.

His father had thought that a rather good idea, an early start on things.

Her small breasts were barely concealed by the coverlet and he could see the imprint of her nipples through the sheet.

He tried not to grimace, but it was hard. Yes, she was from a respectable pureblood family, pretty enough, but god was she an idiot!

Well, in all reality she really wasn't stupid. But any one could seem stupid compared to-- 'Do not think about it,' he admonished, 'it's through, done. You finished it, remember?'

"Draco?" Phaedra said. "Have you heard anything I've said?"

"Sorry," he said, not meaning it at all, "I didn't."

"What were you thinking about?" her tone was that of suspicion.

"Nothing of significance," he all but sneered, he would have to watch his tone.

"You were thinking about 'her' weren't you?" her voice was cracking.

"Her who?" he replied trying to keep his face impassive. 'How did she know?!'

"You know who!" she was close to tears. "One of the elves told me all about it!"

"About what?" he was fighting down panic.

"That mudbloo---,"

"Phaedra," he snarled, "do not talk about things you do not understand!"

"What's there to understand?!" she wailed. "That you were in love with a mudblood?!"

She had clearly known about this for some time, otherwise she wouldn't have been quite so explosive or tearful. Her young body was racked with sobs, but it did not sate his fury or remove the fact that she had spoken about Hermione like-

"Phaedra," he said grabbing her chin painfully, "you will never," his voice was dangerously calm, a deadly edge to it; "speak of this again."

She sniffled but nodded fearfully

"Not to me," he said, "not to anyone. Are we perfectly clear?"

She nodded again, and he landed a bruising kiss on her cheek.

He dressed very quickly and stormed down the hall at top speed. He was furious. He was going to find that house elf and 'Crucio!' it into the next century!

He was nearly to the kitchen when he stopped short. He couldn't do it. The mere memory of her lingered; her bushy hair mussed with anger and her bossy voice was filling his ears, campaigning for S.P.E.W.

'Hermione,' he thought desperately. He let his guard down for a split second and it was all over.

There was an irritating sting in the corners of his eyes, tears gathered around his irises and pored over onto his cheeks.

It was all too much to bear. Him, being forced to marry someone he couldn't stand, and Hermione, his Hermione, with Weasley.

Why did it have to be this way? Why?

He could not remember the last time he had cried, forever. Crying was punishable by lashings in his house as a child. It was a sign of weakness, no Malfoy is weak. But now, Draco did not care. Tears came in rivets down his pale cheeks

'Hermione, Hermione.....'

Ginny sat in the window seat of her flat, her legs curled underneath her, thinking.

A book lay open next to her, but it had lost its pull sometime ago. What was she going to do?

She was several weeks along by now; it had been confirmed by a muggle home pregnancy test she had nicked from Hermione's bathroom.

She had to tell Ernie, she just couldn't bring herself to do it. It was full scale war by now, god, how could she have let this happen? And what's more, Ginny was nearly certain that Hermione suspected something.

That morning before school she had told Hermione that she had a headache. And right before she was going to apparate, Hermione stopped her,

"You're not going to apparate are you?" she asked.

"Yes," Ginny said, "why?"

"No reason, it's just that in your condition it might make that headache worse..."

Now what had she meant by that? By 'your condition" did she mean her headache? Or was she alluding to...

"Ginny?" said a sharp voice.

She looked up to see Ernie standing in the door way of her room. She started to smile in spite of her worries, but stopped.

He looked horrified, hurt, and angry.

"What is it?" she asked suddenly.

"Why don't you tell me?" he snapped.

"What?"

"Or maybe you can explain this!" he said brandishing a thin pink, plastic stick.

Ginny felt her face drain, 'Oh god, he must have found it in my bathroom.' But how could he possibly know what it was?

"Hermione let me in and I went to the bathroom..."

"It's not," she started, numb with shock "how---,"

"Don't tell me what it is and is not!" he shouted. "My dad is a muggle! I know what a home pregnancy test is!"

"Oh god, Ernie, I was going to tell you today, I swear---,"

"I am not ready to be a father!" he shouted, the anger in voice receding.

"What?"

"I'm not, Gin, we're at war. Don't you realize that? I can't be a parent..." he trailed off.

"What's done is done," she said blankly. "You think I'm ready to a parent? It's not as though we can take it back Ernie."

"We could," he said.

"What are you talking about? No we can't, in case you've missed something; I'm already pregnant," she said squinting her eyes in irritation.

"Yes we can, there are spells, potions you could take."

"Ernie McMillan, don't you EVER speak of aborting our unborn child!" her red-headed temper had kicked in full throttle. She had never even THOUGHT of abortion, she was a Weasley. Her mother had borne seven children, even when they couldn't afford it.

"Ginny, I want to be with you," he started. "I want marriage and children and a house, but not now. Not when there is so much life to live. Not when the war is in full scale."

"Well, it's too late for second thoughts now!" she yelled pressing a hand to her still flat stomach. "This is our child! This---,"

"No," he said plainly, "this is YOUR child."

"What?" she said hoarsely.

"I cannot be a father."

"Get out," she whispered, pointing at the door.

"Gin---,"

"Out!" she shrieked.

Ernie turned on his heal and stormed out the door and her life, not looking back.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione hadn't been sleeping well. She had been having these reoccurring dreams about her and Draco when they were in school. The most frequent being the memory of their first tryst behind a tapestry, when they had been out after curfew.

To double and triple her sleeplessness she had seen Ron earlier that day and things had not gone well.

He was angry, and rightfully so, at her distantness lately. It had resulted in an explosive argument that left Hermione with a sick feeling that he may have figured out that it was something other than the war and school. Maybe even that it was him....

And lastly, to add to her overwhelming anxiety, Ginny and Ernie had a row, and Hermione was sure by the muffled shouts that had come from Ginny's room, plus the finality of the door slamming, that he was not coming back.

Hermione had a pretty good idea that Ginny had told him about her condition and he had not taken it well. It did often happen this way, of course. Ginny had probably told him, and because he's a guy, he probably had gone over the deep end about it.

The young witch sighed and turned over in bed, pulling the covers with her. She wasn't willing to think of what was really bothering her. Of what plagued her nights and days, of what was inevitable and carried an overwhelming sorrow. Of what she had no control over. Of what was marrying someone else, starting a family with someone else...

But as she drifted off into a fitful sleep her subconscious took control. And she floated uneasily into a memory.

It was very late and the castle loomed, shadowing the grounds. She needed to hurry; if she was caught emerging from the Forbidden Forest clutching illegal plants that she had just harvested in the moonlight, she was facing expulsion and possible prosecution.

She quickened her step; Ron and Harry were going to owe her big-time for this one.

The oak door slid quietly open, and her darkened-cloak-clad body slid inside. She shoved the herbs inside her cloak pocket, why hadn't she borrowed Harry's invisibility cloak?

She was half way back to the common room when she heard it; the ominous mew of Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's wretched cat.

Hermione's heart plummeted; she had a very limited time to get upstairs.

She broke off in a sprint. She went past the library, up staircases, taking two steps at a time. She was going to be caught, she just knew it.

She rounded a corner and her body connected with something very solid, and she looked up, expecting to see the gleeful face of Mr. Filch, but she did not. Standing in the corridor, the pale moonlight filtering in on his white blonde hair, was Draco Malfoy.

A sneer spread across his pointed features, a malicious glint in his eyes.

"Out a bit late, aren't we Granger?"

"Sod off Malfoy," she hissed. "We're both out after curfew, and Filch is coming this way." She started to move past him but he stepped in front of her blocking the way.

"Why are you in such a hurry Ganger?" he sneered.

"I know you're unintelligent at best, Malfoy," she retorted, "but I didn't know you that you are completely suicidal as well!"

"Well," he started smoothly, "you see Granger, I unlike you ---," he stopped mid-sentence.

The distinct wheezing of the caretaker was huffing up a staircase at their left.

A panic stricken look flooded her face. She was going to be expelled!

It was too late for her to run, but she felt her arm being tugged and herself being pulled behind a tapestry.

She landed pressed very close to Draco Malfoy. Her small breasts pushed into his chest, his finger pressing against her quivering lips.

"Sniff 'round my sweet," came Filch's wheeze, "she could be anywhere."

Her dread filled eyes looked up at Malfoy. But his eyes were not terror filled at all, on the contrary, they were a smoldering grey.

Her breath hitched in the back of her throat.

How could she have never noticed how handsome he was? Because he was, he really, really was.

He grinned at her, not at all like a smirk, but a knowing grin.

What WAS she doing?! His father had probably taught him Occlumency! He could probably read every thought she was thinking! Every dirty disgusting thing she would like him to do to her.

Filch was gone by this time, and she started to pull away. But he caught her.

"Going somewhere, Granger?" he whispered in her ear. The whisper held none of the usual malice he associated with her name.

She looked up at him, lost for words. He was her arch nemesis, her greatest enemy, how could she ever possibly-

But her thought was shaken, their eyes met. The hands that had seconds before lay limply at their sides joined, and their lips brushed. Softly, attentively, then, not soft at all. Instead it was fierce, bruising. Six years of pent up frustration pouring into one single, mouth crushing, kiss.

Hands were every where, on the backs of necks, under bra cups, and eventually beneath knickers. Fondling, caressing, pinching, hands... It was every thing she had ever wanted, what she had craved.

Everything...

Hermione sat straight up in bed. Sweat trickled down her spine and she lay awake until dawn, not daring to go back to sleep.