Mystic-dragon87 : actually..as long as the mother is still alive (Hermione's basically sleeping, right?) and still able to obtain nutrients, then i think the baby could technically survive. but prove me wrong
Masterdebate-er: maybe you are kinkier than most. why dont you write a kinky story (YOUR style) and give me the link, or better, actually send a SIGNed review so i can read your stories? i wouldn't have said it was kinky if some reviewers weren't complaining. so SUE me
The rest of the school year went by in a blur. Draco was assigned to take over Hermione's duties as Head girl, and he complied.
He went through his classes and his Head Boy duties like a zombie, unmoving and taciturn unless called upon, and even then, he answered tersely.
His so called friends had left him, unable to cope with his constant depression and unhappiness.
After potions, Draco walked back to the common room alone, no longer surrounded by his usually posse. He overheard the gossiping of fellow Hogwart students as he made his way through the throngs of gabbering kids. Normally he would have turned around and hexed whoever it was, then had a good laugh at their expense, but this time he just let it go and continued walking.
"I heard that his deatheater father left in his will that his son would have to get his dark mark anyways." Whispered a fourth year to his friend as Draco trudged by.
"Really? Well I thought he would be quite pleased to get the dark mark. He is going to follow in his father's steps, isn't he?" The other fourth year whispered back.
"Dunno, really, but from what I heard, he's just pretending so Dumbledore won't suspect anything."
"Why don't you two just budger off and go gossip somewhere else. Now wouldn't that be a nice idea?" Snarled a voice behind them.
The two fourth years jumped around to see Draco's retreating back turning down the hallway.
"Dark mark." Draco forced a laugh. "Who do they think I am? My father? Dark mark, what hypogriff-shit. Look what happened to my damn father. Babbling like a baby till the day he died!" Draco threw his robe off onto the bed and rummaged through his closet for a change of clothes, which he promptly grabbed and hit the showers. The water ran down his body, cool and refreshing on his skin. After 10 minutes of pure relaxation, he stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist and stood in front of the mirror as he shaved. (yup, in the middle of the day)
"You missed a spot." The magical mirror said, causing Draco's hand to run off course and cut himself.
"BLOODY HELL!" Draco glared at his own reflection before muttering a spell which cleared up his cut.
"Where's the missus? I haven't seen her in days!" The mirror talked again in it's nasally voice.
"I-" Draco's voice drifted off as he saw the door leading to Herimione's room open. Walking over, he nudged the door a little wider open. It hadn't been touched since the day Hermione had left, as Draco had given direct orders to the house elfs not to alter or touch ANYTHING in her room or they would be at the recieving end of his wand. Taking in a deep breath of the creamy vanilla aroma that made the room so distinctly hers, he crept over to her bed, careful not to touch anything as if they might burn up into ashes and be gone from him forever. Draco slowly lay on the bed, the only thing he had touched since entering Hermione's room, pulling the sheets up around him and pretending she was there next to him.
Nothing he did could stop him from thinking about Hermione. He never forgave himself for not following her to the muggle world. Maybe he could have protected her from the accident, and they would still be together and Hermione wouldnt have lost her memory...
Every night, after he had finished homework for the lessons, he would go into the muggle world, hidden with an invisible cloak.
Draco would sit by Hermione's bed, talking to her softly, telling her over and over again how much he missed her and loved her.
Sometimes he would even lean his head on her swollen belly, feeling the heartbeat of his daughter. Every kick that she made sent an electric jolt down his spine. That was his baby girl, inside the woman he loved...
Weekends were a different matter. Every friday, Draco would prepare himself to spend the weekend at the muggle hospital, and after polishing off his dinner, he would head over to Hogsmeade where he could apparate back to Hermione's side.
There, he would stay, hidden in a corner, keeping watch as nurses came in to monitor Hermione's heartbeat and breathing.
Once the nurses had restored the peacefulness to the room, he would slip back out into the open resume his spot by the bed, caressing and fondling Hermione's streched abdomen.
It was a chilly Friday night, and a long day at school had tired Draco out, but he still sat next to Hermione, gaurding her and waiting for her to wake up. His invisible cloak on his lap, a nurse could have walked in and seen him, talking to her, and gently stroking her hand.
"Hey love, you wouldn't believe what happened today in potions. That ditzy bloke Neville nearly blew off his and the little weasel's head. Pretty damn funny if you ask me. How could he have possibly messed up that shrinking potion?!" Draco snickered. "I wish you could have been there." He sighed, blinking back the tears he knew would flow down his face if he didn't focus on keeping them in. "Anyways, you won't guess what I found today. It's most extraordinary, and I knew I that you were destined to wear this on your hand the moment I saw it." Draco smirked.
He slid his hand into his coat pocket, pulling out a black velvet box encrusted in gold. Sliding his wand further out of his sleeve, he tapped the box twice. At his command, a gold ring slowly emerged out of its velvet confines. He took the ring, twirling it around his finger, watching as the moonlight danced off the beautiful handiwork.
Draco got down on one knee, taking Hermione's hand in his. "Hermione Granger, will you marry me?" As he slipped his ring onto her finger, it emitted a dull glow of light which traveled from her finger throughout the rest of her body.
Draco's eyes followed the light emmitting from underneath Hermione's skin as it slowly traveled higher and higher up to her neck. The dull glow reached up into her head, and Draco could see it struggling to glow brighter.
...the magic of love... A soothing voice whistled past his ear.
Suddenly a bright light flooded the room, disappearing as fast as it had arrived, and after four long months of slumber, Hermione stirred.