Recap:

Draco's eyes snapped open and he sat up, surveying his room to determine the time of night. It had been such a vivid dream; her in his arms, soft and warm and loving him. It had been like nothing he'd ever felt before. And he'd—dare he think it—liked how it felt.

He fell back onto his pillows, sighing loudly.

"Well, that was unexpected."

Chapter 4: The Truth Shall Set You Free?

Draco groaned and threw the covers back. He couldn't stand it anymore. For two weeks this had been going on, and he was determined to put an end to it. Quickly he got dressed, pulling on his robes last as he stepped into the hall. It was early morning, too early on a Saturday for students to be up yet. Even Quidditch players. That is, of course, unless you're a memory-warped bookworm looking to catch-up on any missed—or forgotten—lessons.

He found her soon enough, picking absently at her breakfast in the Great Hall, a mountain of books piled around her. She was one of a handful of students down at breakfast. And she was the only seventh year, other than him. But he certainly did not want to be there.

"Granger."

She jumped at the sound of his voice, spilling her juice in the process.

"It's bad enough that I have to deal with you in class and for Heads' duties. What do you want Malfoy?"

"Hormones acting up this morning?"

"Bite me," she hissed, taking a very large and unladylike bite of her muffin. "Now, what do you want? I'm busy."

"I'm trying to be civil with you, Granger."

"Keep trying."

"We need to talk," he said firmly, and took an uninvited seat beside her.

"About?" She was only half paying attention to him now, her nose back in her Transfiguration book.

"I don't think Weasley's the father of your baby."

She laughed so hard she nearly choked on her muffin.

"And by that you mean to suggest that you are?" This was too funny. She wished Ron were here to hear it. He'd definitely bust a seam when she told him later. Sure, she'd had her doubts that first night, but she'd been lost and scared and susceptible to what Dumbledore had said. After two weeks she'd found her senses.

"That is exactly what I'm suggesting," he snapped. "And you can stop laughing because the joke's on you. I have nothing to lose."

"Nothing?" she asked, laughter still evident in her voice.

"Yes, nothing."

"Not your glory? Your honor? The respect of your parents?"

She was mocking him, and he would not stand for it!

"They never did respect me even when they were alive. I don't expect much from them now."

Hermione was noticeably taken aback by this revelation. The Malfoys were dead?

"Malfoy—"

"Shut up for two seconds and hear me out." She couldn't have spoken even if she had something to say. "For the past two weeks I have been having God awful nightmares. And they have led me to one possible conclusion—I'm the father."

"I can think of a million conclusions before that," she spat, finding her voice. "They're just what you said: nightmares. What Dumbledore said spooked you. That's all."

"They're too real to be dreams," he groaned, frustrated with her doubt. Though he hadn't really thought she'd believe him right off the bat.

"Fine," she said. "Let's pretend, for the sake of argument, that you are the father. Why are you so calm about it? I'm a 'filthy mudblood', remember? Isn't that against your code?"

"Well I'm not thrilled."

"And what's your reasoning for how it happened? You seduced me and I fell head over heals in love with you?"

He smirked, but said nothing. Yeah, he had been thinking along those lines. Obviously he knew that was not the case, but it was still amusing to fantasize about it. After all, she was one of the most eligible and gorgeous girls in the school—just because she was a mudblood didn't mean he couldn't think that way about her. There was no unwritten rule against that.

"Whatever," she huffed, gesturing for him to go. "Leave me alone, Malfoy. I have work to do."

"Have it your way," he sighed and stood, grabbing an apple off her plate for good measure. "Come fine me when you learn the truth yourself. Maybe I'll entertain the idea of letting you have joint custody."

And before she could retort, he was gone and her day was officially ruined. Leave it to Malfoy.

"Are you serious?" Ron laughed, throwing his head back.

Hermione nodded and smiled, internally mesmerizing by his eyes and the way his hair fell so perfectly over them. He had really grown up this summer. Not that he hadn't been well on his way already, but there was definitely a big change in him.

"And that's not all I learned today."

His ears perked and he leaned forward, a slit of moonlight hitting his face from the part in the drawn curtains around his bed.

"His parents are dead."

"No way!"

"I didn't believe it at first either. But I did some poking around, and it's true. They died a month or so ago in Azkaban. Apparently right after a visit from their golden child."

"Malfoy must have blown a gasket when he found out," he laughed. "No more How To Become A Death Eater 101 for him."

Hermione laughed along with him, though inside her heart wasn't in it. Yes Malfoy was their enemy, and yes he'd been nothing but cruel to them from day one, but that didn't mean he deserved to be laughed at for his misfortunes. Not something this big anyway. Though, to be fair, she didn't see any hurt at all when she looked at him that morning in the Great Hall. Not that she doubted his grief. He'd had some time to let it sink in, and perhaps he was still in denial. Maybe trying to ruffle her feathers about the baby was his way of coping. She hoped to God that that was the reason, because if it was what she was feeling in her gut, then she and Ron had little to laugh about.

"Ron."

"Yeah?" He pulled her to him, sweetly kissing her forehead. She sighed, running her hands over his rock-hard chest and abs. She wondered if all Quidditch players were this toned, this gorgeous with and without their clothes. Ron certainly was, she thought, blushing slightly. It was still amazing to her that she and Ron had slept together, even if she did known she was carrying his child. All previous memories of his body and their time together were completely gone. Not that making new, more exciting, memories was a problem, but she still thought it would be nice to really know what her first time had been like.

"Are you nervous about tomorrow?" She was shaking just thinking about it.

"I'll be right there with you, 'Mione."

"That's not what I asked. Are you nervous?"

"I…I'm terrified, if you must know."

"Do we really need to tell them—all of them—tomorrow? I mean, shouldn't we wait until I have the paternity test in two weeks?"

"What difference will that make?" But they both had been thinking the same thing. There was still that one in one zillionth chance. "Look, we have to tell them sooner or later. And, seeing as you're already three and a half months along, I think they should know. They will ask questions when your belly balloons up, you know."

"Don't be cute," she sighed, forcing down her smile. "This is going to be really hard. I mean, Gin's still not talking to me—not that I want to talk to her—and now this. Your mother is going to have kittens when she finds out."

"That'll be a change for her, huh?"

"Ronald!"

"Sorry…What about your parents? What'd'you think they'll say?"

"More like do," she groaned and pulled the blankets up to cover her now-shivering naked form. "If I weren't top student they'd probably pull me from Hogwarts and put me in a muggle school. It's anyone's guess what they'll do…But I don't see acceptance in the near future, especially when I neglected to tell them about the little memory-loss incident."

"Yeah," Ron sighed. He had also not told his parents, though, through the grapevine, his father had heard and told his mother, who in turn sent him a howler that he thankfully received in the dormitory, which drastically reduced the incidence of rumors. Which were of course truths, but the whole school didn't need to be involved in his affairs. As it was someone—and he knew just who that someone was—had leaked that Hermione was pregnant and expecting in six months. She was asked nearly everyday by some other half-wit under classman if she was actually going to keep the baby, or if she was leaving school and would graduate later on. For the most part she ignored these people, brushing them off with few words. Unless, of course, her hormones took hold and then that unlucky student wound up deaf for a week.

"They're going to disown me," she said, lacking enthusiasm. She was physically and mentally drained today.

"They're going to have to accept it sooner or later, baby. I mean, who could deny you for long?" He pulled her closer, and kissed her lips, sinking lower into the soft sheets. He was beat too—Quidditch had been more than rough that afternoon.

"Ginny, that's who," she sneered.

"Don't think about her right now. Let's get some sleep. We're going to need it for tomorrow."

The room was alive with sound and movement and color. It was like a ballet, the way everyone moved around, their gestures in sync and playing off one another.

Hermione sat slumped on the couch in her living room back at home, her elbows jabbed onto her knees, her chin resting in her hands. She would have tried to cover her ears, but nothing could keep the raging noise out. And she'd long since given up on trying to have her voice heard. Ron was still in the game, but by the looks of things, it was clear that he was nearly ready to throw in the towel as well.

"Ok! Ok!"

Her head snapped up at the sheer volume and intensity of her mother's voice.

"Forget about this outrageous baby business for a minute." Mrs. Weasley didn't even attempt to conceal her contempt. "Why weren't we informed about the accident Hermione was in? Shouldn't the school have told us? Or are we not magical enough!"

"Magical ability has nothing to do with it!" Mrs. Weasley yelled, her fists clenched and shaking at her sides. It was a wonder she hadn't taken a swing at anyone yet. "We were never sent an owl either, Mrs. Granger! Arthur had to hear about it through the rumor mill at the office!"

"And no one felt compelled to inform us?"

"Stop it!"

The room went so completely silent one would think there hadn't been sound there for years. Hermione stood shaking in the middle of the crowd of angry adults. For a majority of the fighting she'd remained quiet, allowing their parents to get everything out before she or Ron tried civil, rational conversation. Now she saw that any chance of that was completely out the window.

"I didn't tell you for this exact reason! I was terrified and the only reason I'm here right now is because Ron convinced me that you would at least hear us out—I see we were both terribly wrong."

"Talk," her father said without skipping a beat, his brow narrowing ever further, if that were at all possible. Thankfully—if Hermione allowed herself to think in positives—the Weasleys were taking the news rather well and were on her and Ron's side. "We're listening."

"I—" She began, but was cut off promptly when Mrs. Granger had a startling revelation.

"Just one minute," she snapped, stamping her foot like a child throwing a temper-tantrum. "You say you're three and a half months pregnant?" Hermione nodded stiffly, her arms latching around her belly with motherly vice-grip tenderness. "And that you and Ron were in some sort of magical accident where you lost nearly the same amount of time in memory?" Again she nodded, having a bad feeling about where she was headed with this. If it was what she was thinking, then all hell would break loose. Again. "Then how do you know, without a doubt, that Ron is the father!"

Mrs. Weasley was across the room, her hands stretched out before her, in a matter of seconds. Mr. Weasley was hot on her tail, and managed to successfully pull of back and sit her down on the opposite side of the room as Hermione's parents.

"How dare you think such things about your own daughter!" Mrs. Weasley scolded, fanning her face to try to keep from crying. "She came here needing support and all you can do is accuse her of being a harlot!"

A pang of anger and pain shot through Hermione so fast she almost needed to catch her breath. It was two weeks all over again when Ginny had been on the receiving end of such a comment from Harry. And though she didn't want to admit it to anyone else, she was in agony with the loss of her closest girl friend. She wished every day that the pain and anxiety would just end, and she wished she knew what had been going through her mind four months before when she kept such an enormous secret from her. If only patching things up were as simple as a timid smile and a hug, the way she'd seen it happen between her and Harry a few days after the news was out.

"Please," Hermione said, stepping in and giving Mrs. Weasley and warm thank you smile. "I can't stand this anymore. I know how hard this must be for everyone, but I know there's some middle ground we can reach. In eight months we'll be out of school—"

"The baby will come in five, Hermione," her father reminded her, like a jab in a salted wound.

"Do you want me to get an abortion!" she screamed, nearly jumping at him in her rage. "Or give the baby up for adoption! Is that where you want this fighting to lead? Because you can't change what's happened with a loud voice and an angry scowl. I'm having a baby, no matter how you feel about it. And me and Ron will raise him or her. And someday you might see it in you to be happy for us, to see how happy this makes us." Her face was soaked with tears before she even realized she was crying. "But I guess until then we're just going to have to have this awful rift between us, because I refuse to do anything less than what's best for my baby!"

"Hermione?"

She turned on her heal and smiled at Mr. Weasley.

"Yes?"

"We must know," he said cautiously. "Is there any chance, at all, that this child is not Ron's? The information I have says there was another boy involved in the accident."

One could almost feel the pure malice the Grangers were giving off.

The fear that her anger had so successfully chased away returned at record speed, leaving her feeling almost dizzy. She clung to Ron, who urged her on with a kiss on the head.

"I don't think—"

"Give us a straight answer, Hermione!" her mother berated.

"Yes!" she cried, collapsing into Ron's strong arms. "But don't ask me how, because as far as I knew, before the accident I was a virgin! And the boy in question is someone I hate with such intensity I hardly understand how we survive being in the same school together!"

"And just who is this other boy?" Her parents were definitely not ones for pity.

"His name is Draco Malfoy, and if he's the father then I might as well kill myself now because my life would be over."

Well I think that's as good a place as any to stop. Heehee! Woo! There was some anger in that chapter. Ouch! Hermione's parents are obviously not happy with how their daughter spends her free time at school. Thank God Ron's parents are a little more understanding.

Wooo! REVIEW! Or die! Muhahahahaha:P