Chapter 3

Draco flung himself onto his bed and buried his face in his pillows. Why? He thought. Why does my father have to be such an ass? I want to see my baby! It is my god damn baby.

Draco sat down at his desk and took out two pieces of parchment. He dipped his quill in ink once again and began to write.

Blaise,

I need you to get a letter to Hermione for me. She needs to understand why I'm gone. She needs to know that I'm still alive, that I love her, and that I will never break the promise.

Draco,

Hermione, my love

I know how hard it has been for you to live without me. It has been painful for me to have to go to sleep, dream about you and then wake up and have the cruel reality snatch you away. Mc Gonagall's spell has yet to work. However, I think Voldemort has to be dead in order for it to work. I love you Hermione! I always will. Don't give up yet! I am coming back for you. Oh and if it's a boy name him Draco James Malfoy. I'll love you forever.

Love, Draco

Draco waited at the front door for Blaise to come get Hermione's letter 2 days later. As the doorbell rang, he pushed the letter into Blaise's hands.

"Make sure that she's safe and try to find out the sex of my baby." He said

"Are you sure that its yours?" Blaise asked the question that Draco had already asked himself. He glared at Blaise.

"We were in love! I was her first and will be her last." He said and allowed a tear to roll down his cheek.

Hermione stared at Blaise in confusion.

"Why are you here?" she asked not bothering to hide her mistrust. I hope that Draco is okay! She thought.

"He's alive!" Blaise said almost as if he had read Hermione's mind.

Hermione lifted her eyes and stared in Blaise's hazel eyes. She stepped away from the door.

"Come in!" she said walking to the living room.

Blaise gasped as he walked into the living room.

"Beautiful isn't it?" she asked admiring the walls painted with each house table from the Great Hall. Blaise's eyes raked the walls looking for the Slytherin table. When he found it, Draco's was the first body he noticed. It had a heavenly aura around it.

"You really miss him don't you?" Blaise asked her. Hermione nodded her head sighing.

"So what did you come here for?"

"Oh!" Blaise reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. He handed it to her. Her eyes grew wide as she read the paper.

With her eyes shining with tears, she looked up from the note.

"How does he know? Where is he? Why isn't he here with me? Why did he leave?" she turned to Blaise

"It's a girl!" she told him quietly. "Blaise!" she said as he turned to leave "Please bring him to me."

"I can only try, Hermione!" he said sadly walking to the door. "I can only try." He repeated and he disapparated.

Hermione laid on her bed thinking. "I'm only seventeen! I'm a baby myself! How could I let this happen?" she said to ceiling. Sighing she walked out of her room and into her living room. With tears shining in her eyes she pulled open her cabinet hidden behind her drawing of Harry and Ron.

Hermione reached into the cabinet and traced her fingers over the dusty volumes of books and photo albums. She counted to seven tapping the books as she went. She pulled out the black leather photo album. Bringing it up to her face, she blew the dust off the cover. A lone tear dropped onto the leather cover. She traced the words with her middle finger.

"Funny how destiny works…" she muttered to herself and opened the book.

She flipped through the moving pictures until she came to one of Draco sitting on his bed. It was taken during Christmas break of last year.

She smiled deviously as a plan formed in her brain. She kissed his picture and closed the book. She hastily placed the album back, ran to the spare bedroom, and opened the door. Hermione stood in the middle of the room and imagined their baby's room. Crying tears of joy, she held her stomach.

Draco paced around his bedroom. He kept glancing at his pure white left forearm, no matter how much he despised his father he had to get the mark. It was his destiny.

He held his breath as he heard the cracks of people apparating into his Father's Drawing Room. Sighing he began to walk to his door as his father called him. He looked down at his arm and took in its milky white complexion. It would be the last time he would look at it without wanting to vomit.

Forcing himself not to break down, Draco walked into his Father's Drawing Room. Fear spread through every bone in his body. He stood at the door waiting to be acknowledged by Voldemort.

"Draco, my boy!" said a high and cold voice. "Come to me!"

"Yes My Lord!" Draco said clearly walking forward. He dropped to his knees and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes.

"Stand up!" Voldemort hissed.

Draco obeyed.

"Give me your left arm!" Voldemort demanded.

Draco obeyed. Voldemort folded his icy fingers over Draco's wrist. He flipped it upward. With the tip of his wand pressed into Draco's inner forearm his icy voice said: "Mark Apperio!"

Draco's faces screwed up in pain as a hot burning sensation flew up his arm. When Voldemort pulled the wand away from Draco's now scarred flesh the burning sensation receded. Letting out his breath, he opened his eyes and recited the speech that had been punched into his brain ever since he could talk.

"I hereby give myself fully to the Dark Arts. It will be my pleasure to serve you fully My Lord! I alone will make a difference! I alone will be faithful! I am eternally yours." The words stung his tongue as he lied to Voldemort.

Voldemort held up a hand and tried to smile.

"Draco, you may go admire your beautiful arm. This is who you are now! Stand tall and be proud."

Draco turned on his heel slowly and walked out of the room. The second the door clicked shut he ran to his bathroom. Turning on the water and grabbing the soap, he began scrubbing his arm, praying that the Mark would go away.

However, it didn't it would never go away. He was scarred…for life.

"Now I have two things in common with Potter!" he said rinsing his arm of the soap sediment and wrapping it in a bandage to stop the bleeding.

All he could think of was Hermione and hoe, even though he did not mean to, he said goodbye!

Hermione stood with her hands on her hips admiring her work. Somehow, she had drawn an exact replica of Draco's bedroom. If their baby couldn't have the real Draco then… Hermione never finished the thought.