Recap:

Again she looked over at Draco, somewhat startled when she found he was staring right back at her, a hint of a smile on his kissable lips. She smiled at him, wondering that if she could go back and do things differently, would she?

"We decided to name him Dante Xavier Cassio Malfoy."

Chapter 17: An Evening In Hogsmeade

Not daring to look up from the ground, Hermione kicked absently at a pebble on the lake's shore, a foot wide stretch of land that wasn't covered in pearly white snow. It was mid-November, but the biting winter air made it feel like January. Or perhaps it wasn't the cold at all that was chilling her insides. Perhaps it was the guilt that had been coursing through her for these past few months. So many times before she could write it off, reasoning with herself that she had no control over her situation with Draco. But now, as she stood, wrapped in her winter cloak, a scarf pulled tight up to her nose, she had no more excuses for herself. She wasn't meeting Draco to buy baby things, as she'd told her friends. She and her worst enemy were going on an actual date and the very thought of anyone even suspecting such a thing made her stomach curdle.

Why do I care so much about what others think? she thought, launching the pebble into the frigid lake with an angry kick. But she already knew the answer to that question. She wouldn't hurt her best friends for anything in the whole world, except, of course, her son. But then they would be right by her side, wouldn't they?

But there was something else nagging at her soul, something far more disturbing than her impending date. It was something Draco had said to her this morning: "So what you want doesn't matter?" Was that true? Has she become so completely wrapped up with what everyone—and especially her friends—would think that she hadn't considered that she could be holding back? She didn't want to believe it was true, but the hard, cold feeling in her chest told her differently and she let out a silent gasp.

"Viktor," she whispered, leaning her back against the nearest tree. She and the infamous Quidditch player had been instantly drawn to one another. But no matter how much she liked him and how perfect he seemed for her, whenever he asked her to go steady, she brushed off the subject, saying she didn't have time for a boyfriend with all her studies. "Besides," she'd written in one of her letters to him, "we would hardly see one another with all the traveling you do. I think it's best we remain friends until I've finished school. And then, if you still want to, we can go on all those dates you've asked me on." The summer between her fifth and sixth year, his questions turned to almost pleas and she responded to him less and less. By Christmas of sixth year, his letters stopped coming and she'd seen him looking rather cozy with a fellow Bulgarian in the papers. Her heart had wrenched at the sight, but she pretended to be happy for him in front of her friends. What they never knew, however, was that she had ached for him since the moment he asked her to the Yule Ball fourth year.

So there it was. She was allowing herself to be held back because of her friends, most especially Harry, who watched over her like an overbearing brother. And Harry hadn't even openly expressed anything negative towards Viktor, in fact, he rather liked him, unlike Ron who insisted on calling him Vicky.

As Draco approached, glancing this way and that to show Hermione he was being cautious as she'd asked, she was left with one question:

Isn't my happiness important, too?

Draco hair flamed green, standing on end, as a shrill hissing noise was emitted from his open 'O' shaped mouth. Hermione had to clamp both hands over her mouth to keep from attracting any more attention from the other patrons. A few moments later, his hair faded back to white-blond and smoothed down on his head, the hissing sound only a low, ignorable hum that disappeared when he closed his mouth.

"Draco Malfoy being silly," she said, coughing out the last of her laughter. She took a deep swig of Butterbeer and leaned back in the both of the pub. "I never thought I'd see the day."

He went to grab another jewel-shaped sticky hard candy from the bag, but Hermione slapped his hand away and dropped the bag beside her, out of his reach.

"My sides hurt," she explained. And a deep silence fell. She didn't want to admit it, but she was actually having a wonderful date with Draco, despite the fact that they'd nearly run into Harry, Ron, and Ginny in the street. She'd scrambled into a bookshop just in time, having to tug Draco along behind her.

"Hermione?" She looked up from her empty mug, wondering when their food would arrive. "Are you going back with Weasley?"

The question caught her completely off guard. Back with Ron? Was he crazy!

"Why would you think that?" she asked, leaning in so the entire room didn't hear their conversation. She was very aware of the fact that several fifth and sixth years of various houses were gathered throughout the pub, engorged in their own affairs. She was dreading the moment someone noticed them, and prayed that Harry and the others would keep a safe distance.

"The two of you are…in love," he said under his breath, casting his eyes at his untouched Butterbeer. He had obviously wanted to bring this up for sometime, but it seemed he wasn't anywhere near ready to discuss it. Only yesterday afternoon had he confessed his love for her. And no matter how angry he'd spat it at her, it had been true and terrible. She couldn't remember feeling so horrible.

"We're friends." She reached her hand slowly across the table, placing it on his. He flinched and his head snapped up as if she'd wounded him. The look in his eyes half made her think she had. "Only friends. And no, I don't love him, not that way."

"Right," was all he had left so say on the subject, and a second later their food arrived, steaming and delicious in front of them. But they both seemed to have lost their appetites.

"Did you really believe all that mudblood rubbish?" Hermione asked, nursing a mug of hot chocolate as they sat rather close to one another in front of the fireplace in the bookshop they'd been in earlier that evening. It was nearing ten o'clock and the shop was sweetly quiet. Hardly any customers came in, which didn't seem to bother the owner much, who appeared to prefer snoozing upright in his chair behind the counter.

"Yes," he sighed, and instead of looking away, his eyes fixed on hers, as if he were asking her to search his heart. "But," he continued, his eyes now on the flames, "after my father was arrested, I started to wonder if his crusades were worth it. And then I began to doubt all he'd ever taught me. And when I was offered the Dark Mark before returning from the Christmas holiday sixth year, I refused, having decided that all that hatred wasn't worth a Knut if I had to be miserable for the rest of my life like my parents and their friends…And then, well, you know the rest."

"Can we talk about something a little more serious?"

Draco let out a soft chuckle and took a sip of his chocolate.

"More serious? What could be more serious than my famous hatred of Muggle-borns, of you?"

"Melantha," she said slowly and sat back, gauging his reaction. But he didn't falter and, to her surprise, nodded.

"I was wondering when that would come up." He was hardly affected by it at all.

"How are you handling it?" Instinctively she inched closer, her knee nudging his by accident. He put his arm loosely around her waist and for the first time she didn't have the slightest urge to slap him away. Something profound had changed between them, but in its early stages it was still hard to tell what.

"I haven't given it much thought." This was, of course, an out-and-out lie. But, at this point, he was still holding his face expertly, as if he truly was unaffected by the revelation.

"She's your mother, Draco," she said. Her hand reached out, as if of its own volition, and cupped the side of his face, forcing his eyes on her. She smiled meekly, hoping she looked approachable and he would discuss his feelings with her. This was the longest shot in the history of the world, but she figured what the hell. They'd already come so far over the past two months. Why stop now? "It had to have crossed your mind."

"Perhaps," he shrugged, pulling her hand gently away. "Look, I think I've opened up enough to you for now." There was no doubt that he was referring to their skirmish the day before.

"You're right," she agreed.

"I am?" This was not at all what he'd expected her to say. "But—"

"I don't want to push you to talk about something if you're not ready," she said.

"You don't?" Again he was absolutely confounded with confusion. "Hermione?" He knocked softly on the top of her head, and she swatted him away, frowning to mask her giggle. "Where did you go?"

"Shut up," she sighed. "I'm not as pushy as people think I am."

He was it with an unexpected pang of guilt. He knew she wasn't referring to yesterday when he'd called her "a snotty, pushy, know-it-all", but the comment hit the right nerve. Maybe he was still the Dark wizard his parents had raised. Maybe he would never change. Maybe—what if this was all a dream? Or his imagination? Or someone had put a spell on him? What if—

"How do you know when you love someone?" he asked, startling her into nearly spilling her hot chocolate. The uncertainty in his voice sent a chill through her that she would have gladly done without.

"I…I don't know," she said into her mug. "I haven't…been in love before." And though she was speaking from her soul, the knot in her stomach told a different story. She ignored it like a pesky bug. "Why do you ask?"

"I occurred to me," he said, his voice steady and formal, "that without being shown kindness, I shouldn't be able to…well…love."

"Then how did you come to the decision that you loved me?" she blurted out without thinking. And the accusatory undertone did not go unnoticed by either.

"I never decided!" he snapped back, looking deeply insulted. "Maybe I don't know what I was saying!"

Hermione gasped as if he tried to strike her and slammed her mug onto the floor before her. It was a good thing they were already sitting on the ground otherwise she might have been compelled to shove him down, though she couldn't have said why.

"And I suppose you think it's so funny to play with other people's hearts like that!" Her rage was boiling and she was glad they'd opted to leave their wands behind.

"What are you talking about!" he barked. "You looked me in the eye and told me you didn't love me and never would! I think I have more of a reason to be angry than you!"

She opened her mouth to retort, when he seized her by the shoulders in a half-attempt to calm her.

"Why do I have to be so miserable before I can find happiness?" she whispered, pushing back tears. Draco realized immediately that she was having a mood swing and brought her into his lap, cursing himself for losing his head. It wasn't her fault that she didn't return his feelings. Who could blame her after how wretched he'd been to her for all those years? He was lucky she hadn't spit in his face.

"I do love you," he said with great difficulty, pressing his face into her wavy locks.

"I know," she whispered back, heaving in her attempts to quell her emotions. "I think I…should tell you…tell you why I wanted to give you a chance." Draco remained silent. Nothing could have made him speak at this moment. "I think…that is I could, somehow, maybe…I think I have the…capacity to…love you…possibly."

He would have leaped ten feet in the air with elation if not for the stuttering pausing and clouds of uncertainty. The last thing he wanted to do was get his hopes up only to be crushed. Her talking to him civilly was good enough for now.

"Stranger things have happened," Draco joked, lifting her face in his cupped hands. And, despite her tears, she coughed out a laugh, smiling at his attempts.

"I'm so confused, Draco," she said solemnly. "Two months ago when I woke up in the infirmary I knew, conclusively, that I hated you to the marrow in my bones…What I mean to say is—"

"You need time," he finished for her. She nodded and folded into his arms.

"We should go on more dates," she said, surprising herself. "I liked this."

"Did you now?" he chuckled, a smiling stretching across his features.

"Yes," she said softly, and leaned in, kissing him tenderly on the cheek. "Stranger things have happened."

Meanwhile, just outside the cozy little bookshop, Ginny had her hands full with trying to keep both her brother and boyfriend from barging in, their nostrils flaring with unbridled rage. Thankfully, Seamus and Neville showed up in time and helped her pealed them back, seating them rather roughly on a nearby bench. This was no easy task, even for all three of them, what with how big Harry and Ron's Quidditch-pumped muscles were.

"You don't seem too surprised about this," Ron sneered at his sister. "Do you know something we don't!"

"Hermione hasn't told me a thing about that!" she snapped back, pointing furiously at the shop. "Last I knew she was worried about the fact that Malfoy confessed he loved her! She wanted nothing to—"

"He said he loves her?" All four boys baulked in unison.

"Well it's obvious enough," Ginny said, rolling her eyes, as if it really were clear as day. "Have you ever seen Malfoy act so strange before? He loves her and he doesn't know how to deal with the new emotion."

"That doesn't explain what we just saw!" Harry yelled, then shrunk back as Ginny raised a clenched fist at him.

"Don't you dare yell at me like that Harry Potter! Don't take your anger out on me!"

"They were awfully cozy," Neville squeaked out, glancing at the bookstore. "Doesn't Hermione hate Malfoy?"

"Clearly it's all a big farce," Ron said, his whole face as red as his hair. He was understandably the most rattled and angry of them all. She appeared to have chosen Draco over him. "What else is she keeping from us? Does she have other kids running around? Other Malfoys? Is she really a pure-blood? Or—"

"Ron!"

All eyes snapped in the direction of the shop, where Hermione stood, fuming mad, with Draco right behind her. But instead of being smug the way he should have been, he looked as angry as her, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Do you remember how many times Viktor asked me out!" she hissed, stamping forward. None of them had ever seen her so angry. The line had been crossed and no one saw any way of stepping back from it. "But every time I brought him up to you or Harry you always gave me these looks, like I wasn't allowed to date who I wanted! Like you owned me! Well let me clear something up for you!" By now even Draco's demeanor had slipped and he too was staring at her with wide eyes. "Almost every night I fought not to cry myself to sleep because I wanted to be with him! Because he was the only person who understood me! But I couldn't be with him because the second I mentioned his name you two got hot under the collar! I let him slip away with a fight, without so much as a peep! I have gone on knowing not an inkling of true love and you have the audacity to accuse me of being untrustworthy! Of being anything but completely faithful to a lousy lot like you!" She took a breath long enough to apologize to Ginny, Seamus, Neville, and especially Draco, for her outburst, then stormed off down the road, Draco on her heals.

"How long have you been holding that in?" Draco asked once they were settled in the warmth of the carriage that carried them back to Hogwarts.

"Too long," she sighed, exasperated and exhausted.

"You really liked that Krum guy?" The slight wrinkle in his nose made her laugh.

"Yes," she said, cheering up a bit. "I'm over him now, of course. I just…I only just realized how much they've been holding me back. It can't be just the three of us forever."

"Their ears were so red I thought they'd catch fire," Draco said, coming to sit beside her, rather than across from her where he'd originally been.

"If I had my wand," she laughed, "they would have."

Draco's hand came up to rest on Hermione's bulging belly. And not a second later there was a slight rumbling and his eyes brightened.

"Was that—"

"Yes," she laughed, closing her hand over his. "Dante's saying hello."

"Hermione?" She looked up to see his face an inch from hers. "Can I kiss you?" It was the first time he'd ask her such a thing. She found herself wanting to say yes.

"No, Draco," she said after a long pause. "No you can't."

"Why?" He was undaunted by her negative answer.

"Because as much as I want to love you—" He gave a small, unavoidably gasp. "—I know that I'm not ready."

Well that didn't take as much time as I thought. So yay! Heehee! But really, the next chapter could take a while. Today I was lucky because I got out of work 5 hours early and had loads of free time. But the next few weeks don't look so promising. This coming Thursday and Friday I'm going out of town with my boyfriend to a concert, then that weekend I have Fourth of July parties to go to, then the next week I'm going to my family's cabin for a few days because I haven't been in so long (and I wouldn't pass it up for anything—it's my favorite place in the whole world), and then there's my job and aerobics and breathing (can't forget that), and, of course, reading. I've been re-reading all the Harry Potter books in lieu of the sixth one and I'm to three already, yay for me!…Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I rather liked it, even if Hermione and Draco aren't together yet.

REVIEW! You silly monkeys! ;)

Oh, and several of you have asked how to pronounced the baby's name. It's like this: Don-tay. It was suggested by someone and when I saw it I decided on it immediately, because he's one of my favorite authors. I was kicking myself for not thinking of it. Heehee!