Recap:

"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."

Chapter 5: And The Father Is...

"Are you sure it's ok for us to leave?" Mr. Weasley asked, his eyes drifting to the couch in the Gryffindor common room.

"Yeah," Ron whispered, ushering them towards the fireplace. "She'll be fine. She…" He glanced back at her, catching her distant, listless eyes. "She was expecting that."

"I just can't believe how awful her parents were," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "I mean, this is definitely not what we had planned for your future, but we can see that you're happy. You and Hermione are finally together, that's all that really matters right now. You don't know how long I've been waiting for to see you together."

"Mother!" He hated the idea of people convening behind his back, discussing what they thought he should do. It was his life and he would live it at his pace and how he wanted. "Just…Please go. I need to get her to bed."

"Are you going to be ok, Ron?"

"I'll be fine mom," he said stiffly, kissing her cheek.

"And the baby?"

"What about it?"

"How do you feel about it?"

"I…I'm still getting used to the idea. Hermione's thrilled, minus the rift with her parents."

"Do you want this baby?"

"Ron?"

They looked up to see Hermione slowly drifting towards them.

"Good night mother."

"What the hell is going on!" Ron demanded, latching onto the door frame for support.

"Ron!" Hermione cried out, hastily pulling on her robe as she snatched up the clothes that littered the floor, as if he were angry about the mess. "What are you—"

"Doing here?" he barked, taking an unstable step into the room. "Why don't you answer my question first!"

"Ron, please," she begged, coming to his side. "You can't tell anyone. Please."

"He won't tell anyone," Draco said, wrapping the bed sheet around his waist to cover his naked body. "Not unless he wants me to curse him."

"Stay out of it Draco!"

"Yeah," Ron sneered. "This is between me and Hermione. Or at least she used to be Hermione."

"What are you doing here, Ron?" she sighed, her face stained red with embarrassment and exertion. "I told you I didn't want to see you for a while. Not after—"

"I came to return these," he said through his teeth, and shoved a canvas bag full of books at her. "You left them under my bed at school."

"Thanks," she murmured, and set the bag down beside her.

"Where are your parents?" All of his previous fire had been utterly extinguished. He knew he was in the wrong in coming here. They had not parted for the summer on good terms, and she had adamantly expressed her need for space. He was still angry and hurt, of course, by what he'd walked in on, only something in her eyes told him now was not the time for it.

"France. My dad got a bonus, so they decided to take a second honeymoon." She looked over her shoulder and smiled meekly at Draco. "Get dressed. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Where—"

"Ron and I need to discuss some things."

"But—"

"I'll be right back."

Draco brushed his teeth with such unnecessary aggression you'd think he had a personal vendetta against them. When he was done assaulting his mouth, he re-checked his hair in the mirror, then rushed out of the bathroom, snatching up a red leather notebook off the back of the toilet. He settled into his favorite chair by the fireplace, opening the notebook to a clean page and began to write. The book was nearly half filled already, and there was little doubt in his mind that it wouldn't be totally filled in the next week.

"Let's see her deny me when she reads this," he said under his breath, writing every thing he remembered, in perfect detail, right down to the way her bed-messed hair flopped over her right eye. Or that one of the loops of her bathrobe was torn and the sash drooped slightly in that spot.

It was a book of the dreams he'd been having, what he now dubbed memory-dreams, because he was convinced they were memories. The first twelve or so entries were scatter-brained and full of holes. But the next ten—including the one he feverishly scribbled now—were flawless descriptions of his dreams. She would read it, he reasoned, and then she too would remember. Not that any of the memories showed how they got together, or how she ended up pregnant, or how Ron was involved the night their memories were erased—but at least she would be forced to at least consider the possibility that he fathered her baby.

He set the notebook on the coffee table in front of him and sunk low in his chair, his mind still swirling as he recalled his most recent memory-dream. Somehow, somewhere, he and Hermione came together. And not only for a one-night stand—as he had often fantasized about her—but they had actually stayed together and planned on raising their child together, like a family. They were a couple, shrouded in secrecy. And when Ron had busted in on them at Hermione's home that summer, their entire world crumbled. Draco was convinced that that was the moment when things started to go wrong. That was when Ron became involved, the moment that led to the scene by the lake. He had accepted all of this and, with each new dream, he became more and more accustomed to the idea of having a relationship with Hermione. Naturally, at first he had been repulsed by the idea, though freely used his dreams against her to try to rile her up. But the more he thought about it, and the more he saw them together—and happy—in his mind, the more he wanted that former reality for now. Never in his life had he hoped for a glimpse of happiness, a real shot at a normal life. From birth his course had been plotted by his parents and those who controlled them. Now they were gone and this new opportunity had fallen into his lap. He was no longer bound to his parents' fate, and therefore he could choose to pursue this strange and unfamiliar territory involving a muggle-born.

But, because the concept, and everything surrounding it, was so foreign to him, he had no clue whatsoever of how to begin. The notebook would only go so far as to get her to listen, if it worked. From there, his life was in his hands, and for the first time in his life he was truly terrified. His parents never scared him. The Death Eaters were nothing. Even Voldemort was only a name to him.

No. He was afraid of happiness, for the simple reason that he didn't know how to be happy.

If he didn't want to screw this perfect chance up, then he was going to need some help.

But from who?

"Is this really necessary?" Hermione groaned, rolling her eyes. Ten minutes ago Draco had stopped her in the hall and practically forced her into an empty classroom, shoving a notebook at her. "We're supposed to meet Dumbledore and Ron in the infirmary at five, and it's five of."

"I said I'd leave you alone if you'd just read the damn book."

"Well clearly you want me to get something from it," she said, trying to hand it back. "Look Malfoy, I'm not buying it. Yes I believe you had the dreams, but I still think it's something your mind is making up because you've worked yourself up over all this. And it's entirely irrational, because if you would just think for a moment then you'd see that there's no way me and you got close enough to have a baby."

"Do I look worked up to you?" he asked calmly, wrenching the notebook out of her arms. She was glad to let him have it. She didn't want to read one more word about her kissing or hugging or being near Malfoy. "Do I sound wild or crazed? Have I been out of control?"

"No, but—"

"What I wrote in here," he said, waving the book an inch from her nose, "is what happened. It's pieces of the past, and I'm putting it back together. I'm going to figure out exactly what happened. You can help me or not, I don't care. But make your decision after you find out I'm the father."

"Malfoy—"

"Come on," he cut her off, turning for the door. "Like you said, Weasley and Dumbledore are waiting."

Hermione felt completely naked as she sat on the hospital bed, surrounded by everyone. Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall stood close to her and the others, hovering like vultures for the news. Ron sat beside her, and Draco was on the bed opposite them, his nose wrinkled in disdain. All three adorned small bandages from where Madame Pompfrey had drawn blood, though Hermione's was hidden under her shirt. And she was now in a room off the infirmary, using a tricky medical spell on the blood to determine paternity.

The past month had gone by in such a blur and—with the exception of her parents' outrage—Hermione was in pure bliss. She had yet to reconcile with them, or Ginny, but she had Ron and for now that was all she needed. She would have loved for Harry to be here right now too, if for nothing more than to see the look on Malfoy's face when Madame Pompfrey announced Ron was the father, but they had been given strict orders that only the three of them were to be present. That, and the fact that the group convened in the infirmary were the only ones who knew about Malfoy's involvement. And after today no one ever had to know.

She wondered what Draco would do when he found out he wasn't the father of his imagined baby. Not that she cared. She was only curious, and a bit nervous—what if he told someone about what almost happened. She seriously doubted that, but the threat was still there. If this got out she would have no chance to patching things up with Ginny.

"Ok children."

The room stood still as Madame Pompfrey shuffled back into the room. In her head she held the information that could potentially shatter everyone's lives that sat on the cots. Her solemn expression told them that she knew this, and she did not take her job as the informant lightly.

"How would you like me to do this? Tell all three of you at once, or take Hermione aside and let her tell you herself?"

Surprisingly, both Ron and Draco motioned towards Hermione to make the decision. She would have expected that from Ron, but Draco? What the hell was wrong with the universe?

Reluctantly she stood and followed Madame Pompfrey into the room she'd just exited moments before. She was asked to take a seat beside the desk to make her "more comfortable". She wanted to tell the nurse that there was nothing that could make her comfortable in this moment, but her tongue seemed to have doubled in size.

"Whatever the result," the older woman said, leaning against the desk, "please know that myself and the rest of the staff will be here for you one hundred percent. If you need anything don't hesitate to ask. And you will be required to come in for check-ups regularly, free of charge. Unless you plan to go to a doctor back home, that is."

"No, no," Hermione said quickly, her features twisted into an unreadable expression. "I won't be going home much at all this year. And thank you, I'm really in the dark about everything I should do…This," she laughed bitterly, "is the first time in my life I haven't been absolutely prepared for something."

"Well," Madame Pompfrey said, giving her shoulder a gentle pat, "that's what we're here for. And the Headmaster wanted me to tell you that you should report to his office sometime in the next week to discuss what you plan to do in five months when the baby is born, and if you plan to gradu—"

"I will be graduating on time," she interrupted. "I just haven't figured everything out yet. But I will," she assured her, trying to assure herself. "I'll talk to Dumbledore and straighten everything out. There has to be a way for me to graduate in the Spring."

"Where are you and the baby going to live, Hermione?"

"At home," she said quickly, without thought. Then sighed and frowned, hanging her head. "My parents didn't take the news well at all, Madame Pompfrey. They practically banished me and I haven't heard from them in two weeks since I told them…I don't know where we'll live, but I'll work something out with Ron—"

"The baby is Draco's, Hermione."

"—and his family—What did you say?" It had almost sounded like—

"The baby," she said, this time more slowly, "is not Ron's. It's Draco's. Draco is the father."

"You're wrong!" Hermione yelled, bolting out of her chair, her finger pointing almost accusingly at the woman who, only moments before, had been her savior with offers of free medical assistance and moral support. Of course she knew that this was no one's fault but her own, but the mere idea—No, there had to be a mistake. "Your spell was faulty. That can't be right! It makes no sense!"

"Hermione please!" the nurse just about begged, pulling her patient into her arms, stroking her curly brown locks in an effort to calm her. Her efforts were in vein, however, as Hermione pounded her fists into her shoulders, demanding she be let go and another test administered, this time so she could see the results firsthand. "I performed two different tests, Hermione," she said, still holding her, still trying to coax her into rationality. "They both said the same thing. And I will help you get through this, but right now you need to calm yourself and accept what's happened. You can't change it. I'm sorry."

"Sorry!" she cried, her knees buckling, her tears soaking Madame Pompfrey's white nurse gown. "Sorry won't stop Ron from hating me! Sorry won't make this abomination in me disappear! And sorry won't keep Malfoy away from me! My life is over and I'm only seventeen!"

"You think your baby is an abomination?" Her voice sounded almost hurt.

"Now it is! It's half Malfoy for God's sake! How am I supposed to raise a child with someone who I can barely tolerate knowing their alive!"

"Certainly it isn't all that bad."

"You don't know him." She shuddered violently and managed to free herself, fleeing to the farthest corner of the office. "He's going to take my baby from me! He said he would! He knew! He knew!" She was so choked with tears her words were hardly audible. "He had dreams and he knew he was the father! And he said he would take my baby from me and maybe I would get joint custody! He's a monster! He can't be the father! He can't be! He—"

The door burst open with such force it was nearly taken off its hinges. Ron stood, stiff as a board, his jaw set and his eyes glistening. Dumbledore stood behind him, and beyond that Hermione couldn't tell who was who. It was painfully clear that they'd heard everything. Her hopes and dreams, her happiness, so palpable moments before, were now gone like a wisp of smoke, with no chance of return.

Her entire world was gone, and the worst part was she had no idea how.

"M-M-M…My-My…My baby," she mumbled, her fingers clawing at her belly. She wouldn't even think about looking up at Ron, at anyone. If she had to she'd live the rest of her life in Madame Pompfrey's office if it meant never having to deal with the reality of her dire situation. "My baby…My baby is ruined…"

"I—" Ron began, but cut himself off, his cheeks flaring with anger. "You are not even worth my words," he spat, then fled from the room as if someone had chased him out.

"Ron!" Hermione screamed, running after him. Snape headed her off at the door, however, forcing her into the chair next to the desk. "My baby," she whispered, appearing almost drunk as she looked directly into the Headmaster's eyes. "My baby is ruined."

"Draco," Dumbledore said, motioning him into the room. He stepped in hesitantly, clinging to the walls. Hermione looked frenzied. There was no telling what she might do. And no one had confiscated her wand. "Hermione is in no condition to go back to her dormitory this evening. Would it be too much trouble to ask you to stay and keep an eye on her?"

"No problem," he said, refraining from his usual maliciousness when speaking to authority figures other than Professor Snape.

Hermione snapped out of her dazed state, lashing at the arms that held her.

"I am not staying here, and I am not spending another minute with him!"

"I," Draco said, coming forward finally, "am the father of your child. Accept it now or accept it later, but it is true and you will see just how committed I plan to be with our child."

"You won't come near me or my baby!" she hissed, and broke free from Snape's restraint. She had Draco's neck in her hands before anyone could blink, leaving her wand untouched and forgotten. Human instinct, not witch's sense, witch's rationality. "It's my baby! Mine!"

"Say it all you want," Draco seethed, prying her hands away. "That won't stop it from being true."

The adults stood and watched in stunned silence. All but Dumbledore, who knew it was best for them to work this out without their involvement. It was no secret that the two of them had been enemies from first year. And it was up to them—not the teachers, not their parents, not even their friends—to work out their differences in order to raise their child. Dumbledore knew in his heart that this was absolutely possible. The only question was: when?

"Why did you do this to me?" she cried, unaware of the fact that she was crying in Draco's arms, the same person she was presently censuring.

"I didn't do a thing to you," he shot back, making no attempt to push her away. "I told you the truth and you laughed in my face. You read it yourself. We were together. We were…happy. And you're too damn stubborn to admit it."

"But…But…how?"

"That's what I plan to figure out," he sighed, and rested his cheek on the top of her head. They were both too far gone in their own worlds to notice just what was happening. "And it'd be a hell of a lot easier if you helped me."

"Anything," she whispered. "I just want the truth…"

Harry had never felt so confused and left out in all his life. Yesterday Ron and Hermione had gone for a check-up to the infirmary, and fifteen minutes later only Ron returned, fuming mad and sealed himself in his bed, refusing to speak to anyone. It was twenty-four hours later and still he hadn't even attempt talking to anyone, only leaving his sanctuary to go to the bathroom, never to eat. Hermione had yet to come back, and when Harry sought her out, all he received was a rehearsed and useless answer from Madame Pompfrey. Something serious was going on, and no one would tell him a thing.

"Do you think Hermione's hurt or something?" Harry asked of Ginny, who was trying to do her Potions homework in bed beside him.

"Do you really think Ron would be here if that were the case?" Ginny sighed, not at all interested in what he was saying. But she knew if she didn't answer him there would be no chance of her finishing her work before tomorrow's class.

"Maybe they won't let him in and that's why he's angry."

"That's not it and you know it," she said, letting her book fall into her lap. "Look, you're just going to have to wait for her to come back to find out. Unless Ron decides to come out of his hole before then."

"But Gin—"

"Give it a rest Harry. Please." She climbed off the bed and set her homework on the nightstand. "I'm going to go take a shower, and when I get back will you please let me do my work?"

Harry frowned and nodded. She was obviously determined to not cooperate with him tonight.

"Thank you," she said, kissing him on the cheek before leaving the room.

He flopped back on his pillows and let out an exaggerated sigh, followed by a yawn. He closed his eyes and thought, "I'll take a nap while Ginny's in the shower," and he didn't wake up until the sun hit his face the next morning, Ginny nowhere to be found.

Well, now you all know :) Draco is the father and Hermione and Ron are none too pleased about it. I hope there are no complaints about how I've structured the story so far. I know it seems like I'm going awfully fast, but I promise you there is much MUCH more to this story. So don't you fret my lovelies :P

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