As per Draco's suggestion, Hermione spent the next few days thinking about how they were going to manage their relationship. Despite the mind-blowing sex, she needed to choose whether she thought they could ever be a good couple or if it was just safer being friends.
In typical fashion, she went to her books for help. On Monday, she decided that although they weren't going to meeting in person, in case of further accidental intercourse, she could always write Draco a letter. Nothing unsafe about that, her knickers would firmly remain in place. They could discuss their situation without her getting distracted by the size of his hands.
Hermione also decided she needed to take those few days apart to sort out the plethora of inappropriate thoughts she had about Draco. If she did decide they could only be friends, it was going to be a disaster if she couldn't keep her mind in check.
19th February
Draco,
I've thought about your proposition for step six. Although it's sound in concept, I think it could do with some refining. I've jotted down a small list of ideas and questions we should think about this week. I also did some research and found some questions recommended for potential parents; I've included some of those too.
1) Do you think we would be compatible as a couple?
2) If so, why.
3) If we aren't a couple, where do you expect the baby to live?
4) If we are a couple, where do you expect the baby to live?
5) Do you plan on telling your parents? Mine are in Australia at the moment, but I'll let them know when they get back.
6) Do you believe in circumcision? If we have a boy, will you want it done?
7) Will you take time off once the baby is born? Who will care for the baby once it's born?
8) Are you religious? Do you want to raise your children religious?
9) Do you want to have the baby to have your last name?
10) Do you have to keep referring to the baby as the Speck?
Hermione.
Draco's reply arrived quickly. Hermione had stopped by the post office on her way to work, but Draco had his own owl, a large haughty eagle owl. He arrived during Hermione's lunch hour, tapping impatiently at the window until she let him in.
It deposited Draco's reply and stole the last crust from Hermione's sandwich in payment, making itself comfortable on her bookcase to eat. She read the short letter from Draco and sent the owl on its own with a response.
19th February
Granger.
This was the worst plan ever; I can't believe you're setting homework. Would you like me to send you a scroll with my answers or can they wait until I see you next?
D.M
19th February
Draco,
Actually, a scroll would be excellent, I'm swamped this week.
Hermione.
Ps. I told you to stop calling me Granger.
The next letter was much thicker, a neat scroll attached to the leg of the owl, who was named Apollo if his tag was correct. He didn't stick around this time, having missed Hermione's lunch and she had to wait for the following day to reply to Draco.
20th February
Hermione,
Typical.
1) I don't know. Although if you start setting homework for dates then definitely not.
2) see above.
3) Where ever you and the Speck want to live, I presume. There is obviously plenty of room in the Manor.
4) This couldn't have just been a part of question three?
5) I will write to Mother. However, I have never written to and have no intention of discussing anything with Lucius. He can find out when, inevitably, the Prophet does.
6) What is that? A muggle thing? Never mind, I researched it, and no, we will not be doing that. Gods.
7) Yes, I don't know for how long. Us, I presume. With help from a house-elf whenever you decide to return to work.
8) Not particularly. We have godparents, but the Malfoy's have not practised any religion in many years.
9) Yes.
10) Yes, mostly because it annoys you.
D.M
Ps. You'll be seven weeks tomorrow, what kind of fruit is the Speck now?
21st February
Draco,
Our BABY is the size of blueberry this week. Also, I've recently discovered that morning sickness is profoundly unpleasant and not confined to the morning. I almost puked on Harry yesterday.
Hermione.
P.S. Mushrooms are evil, I never want to see or smell another of the ghastly fungi again.
She'd had dinner with the Potters the evening before, and discovered that cooking mushrooms now sent her stomach curling. Poor Harry had almost lost his own dinner when Hermione ran gagging to the bathroom. Ginny, for some reason, had thought the whole thing hilarious.
They'd asked about Draco a few times, but Hermione didn't know what to say. She didn't really know what they were at the moment. They were talking, which Hermione enjoyed, although she seriously hated that Ginny was now calling the baby the Speck too. It was not a nickname she wanted to spread.
After dinner, they'd lounged around all evening, and Hermione had cried again when Harry gave her a great speech about how he and Ginny would be there through the pregnancy, the birth and raising the child. Harry had even offered to be nice to Draco if he was going to be involved with the baby.
21st February
Hermione,
Clearly, the Speck has good instincts if it's aiming for Potter.
D.M
P.S. I've enclosed some sugar quills; apparently, they help with the morning sickness.
P.P.S. I'm still waiting on my scroll; did you think I'm the only one who has to do the homework?
Hermione smiled as she read Draco's letter at her desk. It had arrived with a small package of sugar quills, which she'd been hiding in her desk draw and sucking on whenever anyone at the office wouldn't notice. She didn't really need anyone asking why she was suddenly obsessed with the sweet.
Apollo, unfortunately, was not a big a fan of the quills, he'd nipped Hermione's finger when he arrived, and she'd had to apologise by sharing a piece of roast beef from her sandwich. She didn't have time to pen a reply at her desk, there was another meeting to attend, so she sent Apollo off after he had finished his meal.
22nd February
Draco,
Thank you for the sugar quills, they are amazing.
1) Sometimes, it depends on if you're being a prat or not.
2) I regret putting this question here.
3) I am not living at the Manor. My flat is perfectly adequate.
4) Because I thought you might have a different answer but regardless, see above for mine.
5) n/a
6) No, I was just curious about what your answer was. Apparently, it's one of those things couples are supposed to ask before they have a child together, but then the article assumed that people would be in a couple when they decided to have a child together. How naive, clearly they've never tried fire whisky before.
7) Yes, W.O.F. has good maternity leave. I am not having some poor enslaved house-elf raise our child for us! We can hire a nanny if we're both planning on returning to work.
8) My grandparents are Catholic (French background) but my parents and I never really went to church either. I like the idea of Godparents, though. Harry and Ginny would make excellent godparents.
9) Yes.
10) It's terrible, and I hate it.
What are you doing Sunday? It's been a week since you came to my office (also, no one heard thank god).
Hermione.
Ps. Send more sugar quills.
Hermione had been terrified she would be called into Mary's office some point this week and informed that some poor soul had overheard them in her office the week before. So far no one appeared to have noticed, there were no awkward glances or disapproving frowns thrown her way. Personally, she felt she deserved them. Sex in her office, during the lunch hour. Her cheeks burned every time she thought about it. It would have taken them two seconds to cast a silencing charm, but she'd been so out of her mind in desperation to feel Draco touching her again she'd practically forgotten she was a witch. Thank Merlin, the windows of her office didn't face any other buildings or gods knew who would have gotten an eye full.
Now that it was Friday again, Hermione sighed in relief, hoping this meant she was in the clear. Surely, if anyone was going to insist she be fired for inappropriate use of the workspace, then they would have come forward by now.
It was a week since they had said they would take a few days to think. Hermione was nervous, but she knew they should discuss their future soon. Putting it off would only make it more awkward to talk about. She received a reply on the Saturday along with a massive box of sugar quills. Apollo had flown in with the help of another rather tubby looking owl, looking frightfully cross at his companion.
23rd February
Hermione,
First of all, rude. You can't call me a prat when I went hunting after a lunch lady to buy you an overpriced sandwich just to make you stop crying. When else have I been a prat to you? (Hogwarts excluded)
Second of all, that's very discriminatory of you to exclude house-elves from our nanny search. You've made Misty cry. She's very adequately paid, clothed and was very much devastated over your letter. She is, however, a little nosey when it comes to personal correspondence (Misty- I know you're reading this).
I've available on Sunday. When and where?
D.M
24th February
Draco and Misty
Sorry, I intended to reply last night, but I got distracted cleaning the kitchen, and then I fell asleep. I'm not used to always being this tired- I blame you for that.
Please see your answer in regards to the 10th question. Prat.
Also, I didn't mean that many sugar quills! But thank you.
Misty, I've very sorry I upset you. I did not intend to exclude any house-elf from being our Nanny, I only meant that I would never use the employ of a house-elf that is not free.
Sunday at 10am, my flat.
Hermione.
24th February
Hermione,
Misty accepts your apologies. She was delighted and has begun knitting booties. I blame this on you. She's also sworn not to tell anyone.
I forgot to mention in my last letter, Potter will not be the godfather to my child! Ginevra is suitable. I propose Blaise as Godfather, he is at least a Slytherin.
I don't know where your flat is. I've read that some women get 'baby brain', is that setting in already or have you simply read so many books basic information is now dripping out your ears? (Alright, sometimes I'm a prat, but you're always a know-it-all).
D.M
24th February
Draco,
My flat is at 8 Chambers Rd, I'll add you to the wards.
Misty- Did you clean my flat?! I don't understand how you got past my wards, but I would appreciate it if you didn't do it again without my permission.
Hermione.
Apollo, who had been the one delivering their letters throughout Saturday gave Hermione a sharp peck on the finger when she attached her final reply. The poor bird hadn't gotten any rest, flying between the two houses.
Hermione worried at her lip. She would see Draco tomorrow. She'd have to talk to him tomorrow. She'd had a week to think about what she wanted, and she was still conflicted.
Hermione sighed and stretched out on the sofa. Usually, she spent at least part of her weekend making sure her flat was clean after neglecting it throughout the workweek. This week, however, her flat was sparkling clean; bloody house-elf. Hermione had returned from breakfast with Padma the day before to find her flat more spotless than she'd ever managed to get it. She appreciated the help, but it was incredibly odd to come home and know someone had been there. Also, she had no idea how the elf had managed to get past all her wards.
She glanced at the final letter from Draco, it had come late last night, but by then she'd fallen asleep on the sofa. She'd been reading another book, the last one in her pile, and Draco was going to bring his by today, so they could swap.
Hermione nibbled on her lip. She wondered if it was too late to write back. It was only 9am, and Draco wasn't planning on coming to her house until 10am. She scanned the last line and smirked.
Do you need me to bring anything? You won't cry if I don't feed you, right?
She was actually hungry, and she hadn't had the chance to do any groceries yet. She picked up a quill and scribbled a small note on it. She charmed it into a small aeroplane and walked to the floo. A pinch of powder and Hermione flew the little plane through the green flames to Malfoy Manor, knowing that Misty would make sure Draco got her message.
Perhaps it was time to get an owl. Hermione had been relying on Draco's eagle owl all week, and if she'd missed the large creature, she'd had to send her next letter on the way to work. The floo message was neat but only worked if she had access to someone's floo and then it wouldn't be guaranteed that they would find the message in time.
Hermione was about to flop back down onto the sofa when the floo roared again, another little plane popping out and skittering across her floor. It wasn't very elegant, but the communication worked.
She plucked up the note and read.
Congratulations. Misty just read your note and is now preparing you an entire feast. We'll be over there soon. I don't think she can wait until 10am.
Hermione gulped. Crap. She was still in her pyjamas. And her hair was a frightful mess.
She was in the bathroom tugging a hair tie into her wild locks when the floo flared again. She hadn't addressed her clothes yet. Hermione stuck her head out of the door. Draco was smirking at her from the sitting room, looking well dressed in tailored grey robes.
"Hi." He said, glancing at her attire.
"Hi," Hermione said, awkwardly as she hugged her baggy jumper. "I, um, I'm still wearing my pyjamas."
Draco shrugged,
"I've seen you in less."
Hermione blushed but set her jaw in a determined frown. She exited the bathroom and padded towards him. She was wearing a baggy blue jumper and red flannel shorts covered in black cats, they were cute but not exactly the height of fashion.
"You're early," Hermione said in her defence.
Draco smirked at her and nodded to the table where a giant fry up was waiting. There was also a platter of fruit and a steaming teapot.
"Ooh." Hermione sighed, forgetting Draco and scrambling into a seat at the table.
Draco snorted at her as she piled eggs onto thick, buttered pieces of toast and poured herself some tea. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, daring him to say anything but instead, he just tugged the teapot away from her and poured his own.
Hermione munched happily on her breakfast, she usually settled for toast in the morning, there wasn't the time for a full breakfast. It was just too much mess for one person to clean up anyhow.
"Where's Misty?" Hermione mumbled as she tried to swallow. "And how can she enter my flat uninvited?"
Draco bit into sausage and chewed before replying.
"Despite being free, Misty's retained the magic that ties her to the Malfoy family. It's how she can navigate the wards at Malfoy Manor."
Hermione frowned,
"But I'm not a Malfoy."
"Have you reset your wards recently?" He asked, looking around the flat as if he could see her protective layers of magic.
Hermione nodded, stabbing at a piece of bacon. She noted there were no mushrooms included on her plate, something her sensitive nose was incredibly grateful for.
"I do it every month." She informed him.
Draco grunted, frowning a little into his teacup.
"I'm not sure about this," he said hesitantly, "but my best guess is that Misty can enter because at least part of you is now Malfoy. She can sense the magic and convince it you are part of her house. House-elf magic is tricky compared to human magic."
Hermione frowned. A little bit Malfoy. She wasn't a little bit… oh. She may not be a Malfoy but what was growing in her womb was.
"Merlin." She said in a hushed voice.
Draco licked his lips,
"You could try calling her." He said. "If you are included in the Malfoy bonds now, or at least the Speck is, she'll come."
Hermione frowned,
"You said she's free. Why would she have to come?"
"She doesn't have to come. My guess the bond is so small that she could ignore it if she wanted, but I doubt she will. As for being free, she is. I freed her; however, I don't think she's ever really accepted it, and she is still able to tap into that magic. Again, elf magic is different. I could have cast her out when I freed her, but that would mean she could never work for the Malfoy family again."
Hermione grunted. She wished all house-elves would want to be free, to understand how terrible their slavery was, but some were genuinely terrified that they would lose their wizarding families. Most of them had been with them for generations and didn't know any better. Hermione could realistically only promote that elves be freed so that they could choose to leave if they wanted, and compensated fairly.
The change was slow, but with the help of W.O.F., a few minor regulations had been pushed through the Ministry. Not enough but the start of something with potential. Hermione had never planned on engaging a house-elf for her home, but she didn't want to cast one out that seemed so determined to help her.
"Misty." She said clearly.
There was a small crack and a very small house-elf appeared at her side.
"Mistress is calling Misty." The house-elf squeaked happily, ears waving as she bowed low.
"Misty, I am not your mistress." Hermione said, "Draco and I are not, uh, together."
Wasn't that the whole intention of the morning? To determine if they would be. Hermione gulped; she knew what she had decided on the matter. Misty's ears didn't stop dancing as she stared up at Hermione with big brown eyes and said,
"No, not by rings but Mistress is carrying Malfoy blood. Misty knows." Her mouth split into a giant grin and she pulled a small piece of knitting from out of the pocket of her polka dot dress. "Misty has been making the young Malfoy booties, for when the young Malfoy arrives."
Misty handed the tiny pieces of clothing, and Hermione took them gently out of her hands.
"Thank you." Hermione's voice sounded chocked, and she struggled to hold back the tears. "Please call me Hermione, Misty."
The elf nodded, but Hermione was staring at the tiny booties in her hand. She felt the tears welling in her eyes, but she couldn't stop them. She didn't even know why she was crying but looking down at the little shoes she was overcome by emotions. Curse you, hormones.
Draco seemed to sense her mood change and nodded to Misty,
"Thank you, Misty. That will be all."
Hermione looked at the minuscule shoes in her hands. They were so small. So tiny. So tiny and fragile and small.
"Granger," Draco said warningly.
Hermione looked up at him, trying to pull herself together. Her chin shook. Merlin, she had no reason to cry. She didn't want to cry. But the tiny shoes in her hands were so soft and so small. So very, very small.
"Alright, Granger," Draco said, getting up and approaching her like she was a wild animal caught in a trap. He lifted the booties out of her hands. "I'm going to take the tiny shoes, and you're not going to cry."
Hearing him say 'tiny shoes' and seeing how much smaller they looked in his hand pushed her too far.
"Oh, gods." She blubbered as tears streamed down her face. "They're just so small."
Draco sighed in defeat and rocked on his feet. He squatted in front of her chair until he was at Hermione's eye level.
"What can I do?" He said, resigned to her tears.
"I don't know!" Hermione wailed, she gestured at the wet trails forming on her cheeks. "Make them stop."
She didn't want to cry. She wasn't sad, but the welling pressure in her chest forced more water out of her tear ducts. She looked as Draco put down the booties and wept; then she wept some more because she was weeping. Draco looked lost. He had no idea how to fix the clearly hormonal woman sobbing into her breakfast.
"Right." Draco said, "That's it."
Hermione's sobs were interrupted by a shocked gasp when Draco grabbed her under the arms, hauling her up right then, one hand under her knees, scooped her up and carried her across her flat.
She was dumped gently onto her sofa, and Draco proceeded to bury her under every blanket he could find. Once she sufficiently looked like a burrito, he walked behind the sofa where she couldn't see him. A few moments later, he reappeared, carrying a large book.
"What-?" Hermione tried to ask, but Draco shushed her and dropped onto the sofa beside her.
He squished the blanket wrapped woman under his arm and showed her something. It was their ultrasound picture. Hermione took it from him, sniffling harder.
"This," Draco said, "is the Speck."
He pointed to the tiny little dot. Hermione looked at him like he was daft. Draco ignored her as he put something else in her hands.
"These," he indicated to the little booties she now held, "will probably still be too big for him when he arrives."
Hermione's chinning wobbled, and she sobbed,
"Him?"
"Yes." Draco said with a determined nod, "I'm pretty sure it's a boy. Malfoy's always have boys."
Hermione blubbed, sniffling into her hand. Draco past her something else.
"That's just a tissue." He said, "Nothing to do with the Speck, just thought you might need one."
Hermione sobbed into it too. Damn. She was now crying over a tissue. Draco was being so soft and gentle with her, bring her breakfast and letting her cry on him for no reason what so ever. She was a complete mess, and there he was just taking it all in his stride. Of all the different scenarios she had thought about before she'd told him she was pregnant none of them came even remotely close to how compassionate he was being now. She had to blow her nose into the tissue again as she thought about it, more tears welling in her eyes.
Draco lifted the book he'd carried over. He tapped the cover where the words Hogwarts: A history were emboldened in gold. It was Hermione's ancient copy, from when she had gone to the school. It had even accompanied them on their hunt for the Horcruxes, it's cover looking all the worse for it.
"This is where the Speck is going to go to school."
Hermione patted the page, and tears rolled her cheeks. Oh, gods, he would be so small then too. Only eleven. It was an eternity away, but one day she would be on the platform 9 and ¾ waving her son off as he went to the same school she had been, learning all the things she had been so desperate to discover at that age.
"Draco," she moaned. "This isn't going to stop me crying."
"I know, we're getting it out of your system." He said, turning a page to an image of the Great Hall. "This is where the Speck will get sorted into Slytherin."
Hermione blubbed but frowned at him.
"No." She mumbled with a chin quiver and sniff. "He'll be a Gryffindor."
Draco snorted and rolled his eyes.
"There is no way my son is going to be a bleeding-heart Gryffindor."
Hermione couldn't help the pull of her lips and she smile-sobbed at Draco. Tears still on her face she hiccupped and said,
"Maybe he can be Ravenclaw."
Draco wrinkled his nose.
"As long as he's not a Hufflepuff. But I'm sure he'll be Slytherin."
Draco flicked through a few more pages, opening it on a picture of the Quidditch pitch.
"This is where he'll play as a Seeker for Slytherin." He said proudly.
Hermione gasped. Did he not remember the many time he and Harry had been dragged off the pitch to the hospital wing? Hermione certainly did, she'd seen so many injuries from the foul game. Between Harry, Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys, it seemed someone always had at least one scrap or bruise from falling off their broom.
"Draco, no!" She said sternly, "He is not going to play Quidditch, it's so barbaric! I won't allow my son to go galivanting around on those insane brooms."
Draco shrugged, ignoring her protests and holding her tightly against his side as she squirmed under his arm.
"My son," he said, "will be the best seeker there is. He'll probably even beat Potter and his stupid 'only first year on the team in 50 years'."
Hermione scowled and shoved Draco's shoulder as he lamented on how Harry wasn't that good and that he'd only gotten onto the team for being the famous scar-head.
"Draco, stop!" Hermione laughed, as Draco mimicked Harry catching the snitch with his mouth.
Draco smirked at her.
"Have you finished crying yet?"
Hermione gave one last sniff, rubbing her nose with the tissue before realising that, yes, she had finally stopped blubbering like an idiot. She nodded at Draco, and he closed the book.
"Good." He said, "Although I still stand by what I said, I think it's a boy, and I know he'll get into Slytherin."
Hermione patted her book fondly; it had always been her favourite. Ever since she was a young girl, getting her first Hogwarts letter and finally understanding why she was so different from the other muggle children.
Now she would have her own child, one that would know his heritage and who would get to experience a magical upbringing. As much as Hermione was proud of being a muggleborn, she was often jealous of the things magical children got to experience. From the volume of knowledge to the everyday magic they were surrounded by. As much as she was scared, Hermione found she was also excited. She was excited to have this child, and she was, even more surprisingly, incredibly grateful for its father.
"Thank you." She said, trying to shove her emotions aside before she started blubbering again. "For distracting me."
Draco shrugged,
"I had selfish motives." He said, "The crying is unnerving. I can take yelling and flirting and even the drunk Hermione, but the crying is too much."
Hermione snorted, she was unnerved by it too. She hated not feeling in control of her body. She was only seven weeks pregnant, and already she was feeling the changes.
"Thanks, anyway," Hermione said, now struggling out of the mound of blankets. "I, uh, should get dressed."
Draco nodded, taking the ultrasound and the booties from her as she climbed off the sofa.
Pulling out some plain muggle clothing from the wardrobe in her bedroom Hermione headed to the bathroom once more to straighten her face and get out of her cosy pyjamas. The clothing, a simple pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a warm cardigan, were also relaxed. She had to spend the week in professional wizarding clothing, none of which was very comfortable. Hermione liked muggle clothing, it was less cumbersome, and there was more variation.
Hermione paused as she was putting on the t-shirt to look in the mirror. She eyed her belly; it was hardly anything, but she thought it looked the tiniest bit rounder than usual. She could have just been bloated, but still, every few days, Hermione found herself glancing at her reflection, wondering when she would look down and see the baby growing there. She shook her head, pulled her cardigan around her shoulders and went back to the sitting room. She was probably just imagining it anyway.
The mound of blankets had been cleared away, folded onto her armchair. Draco was lying on her sofa, the tiny booties on top of his chest as he read her Hogwarts book. The sight of him, relaxing so comfortably with the tiny reminder of their child almost made her burst into tears again.
She wanted to tease him, to tell him how adorable it looked to see him at ease with the situation. She had never imagined that he would be the one comforting her and telling her that one day their son would be in the world, playing quidditch and roaming the halls of Hogwarts as they had.
She went back to the sofa and shifted his legs so she could fit. Draco let them rest on her lap, and she smirked at his socks. He wore colourful socks. Hermione giggled and poked his toe.
Draco looked over his book and glared at her.
"What are you giggling about, Granger?" He asked.
She poked his socks again,
"These are cute." She said. They were adorable with blue and yellow stripes with little grey arrows. She poked his big toe for a third time, making him wiggle them to escape her.
"They're my Appleby Arrow's socks." He told her. Hermione frowned,
"That's a quidditch team, right?"
Draco scoffed and slammed the book closed.
"A quidditch team? A quidditch team! Granger, they are the best quidditch team in the league!"
Hermione shrugged,
"I thought the Holyhead Harpies were the best."
He narrowed his eyes at her,
"Clearly your head has been filled with nonsense by Ginevra." He was clearly riled up about it, which just made Hermione laugh more.
"Ok." She said, "If you say so."
Draco rolled his eyes, and for a brief moment, he looked like he was about to set off on a persuasive speech addressing Hermione's poor quidditch knowledge, but then he reconsidered. She had no interest in quidditch, and if seven years at Hogwarts didn't sway her, nothing would.
Finally, they both lulled into silence. Despite how close they were, Draco's feet draped in her lap and her hands resting on his ankles, the touch didn't feel forced or awkward. She was comfortable around him, with him touching her. Presumably, it was because they had already slept with each other, but she still found it comforting. His body was warm and heavy, although she didn't mind the weight. They sat around for a few minutes, enjoying the cosy atmosphere of the room. Finally, Hermione poked his toe again and said,
"So,"
He raised an eyebrow.
"So,"
Hermione felt a blush rising in her cheeks.
"So, uh,"
Draco smirked at her.
"You invited me here, Hermione. Is there something you want to discuss?"
Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. Obviously, there was something she wanted to discuss. They had agreed to take some time to separately to think about what they wanted.
Hermione had. She'd spent days thinking about it. Agonising over the decision while she poured through her baby books. Even though not one mentioned anything about how to manage the idea of co-parenting before a baby was born. A few of the more 'modern' books discussed divorce and how to raise children when you've separated from a spouse, but apparently, they still presumed that all people having babies would be a couple. Thanks, but what about those who indulged in a little too much fire whisky with a practical stranger?
Hermione sighed and looked at her hands.
She knew what she wanted.
And she knew what she should do.
They just didn't match up. Every logical part of Hermione's tremendous brain told her that she couldn't just jump into a relationship with Draco. There was too much baggage between them from their childhood and from the war.
Unfortunately, every emotive part of Hermione's body told her she should crawl into Draco's arms and snog him until the sun went down. Whenever she was near him, she wanted to touch him, to have his arms wrap around her and they could just forget about all their problems in blissful caresses.
Hermione Granger prided herself on being a logical, rational woman. Even though this pregnancy was making her more and more emotional, she shoved the feelings down, locking them away so she could do what she believed was the right thing.
"I think," she said, looking up at Draco's face, "I think I was right last time."
She watched him face carefully, trying to read any kind of emotion, but he kept it blank.
"Friends, you mean." He said, voice as impassive as his face.
"Yes," Hermione said, then thinking of the previous time she tried to hide her giddy smirk. "Actually friends. Not, uh… not like last time."
Draco's lips twisted into a matching smirk, clearly remembering what she was doing the last time she'd told him they would 'just be friends'.
"So not friends who like to get into the others trousers?" He said, and Hermione thought she saw a hint of disappointment in his voice. She couldn't blame him; she was regretting that too, but there was no way she could handle just being friends while being friends who like to shag every other day. Being with Draco, sexually, was too emotional, too intense for it not end up meaning something more.
"No." she rolled her eyes at him. "Actual friends. Friends who don't steal each other's knickers."
Draco snorted at her. She'd looked everywhere for the pair she'd been wearing the Friday in her office, but after numerous paranoid searches, she realised that they had gone, most likely into the pocket of Draco's trousers.
"You'd rather I'd just left them on your desk for Betty the lunch lady to see?" He asked, a mirthless smirk on his face.
"No," Hermione said, folding her arms. "But that doesn't mean you should take them with you, I had to go the whole afternoon without any knickers under my skirt. I had to stand before the Wizenmagot with no bleeding knickers, Draco!"
Draco lifted one eyebrow, clearing enjoying himself immensely at her expense.
"I was under the impression you frequently went without undergarments. Or is it just on special occasions?"
Hermione blushed. She grabbed the cushion from behind her and smacked him squarely on the stomach, he grabbed it off of her easily, holding it above his head and restrained her wrist with the other hand.
"You're a terribly violent witch, Granger."
Hermione wiggled, trying to escape his grip and reach the cushion. She managed to get one knee underneath herself and leaned as far possible towards the cushion. Only a few more centimetres and she could snatch it from him.
"And you're a perverted panty thief, Malfoy."
He snorted, and Hermione took the distraction to make her grab for the cushion. She pushed up the very moment Draco yanked her down, resulting in her launching forward over Draco's legs and landing cushion in hand onto of the Slytherin.
"Ouff." Draco groaned as Hermione's elbow collided with his midsection.
"Ow," Hermione mumbled, as her head smacked her own arm and Draco's knee collided with her leg.
Draco groaned and rolled, shifting her, so she fell to the side of the sofa.
"I stand by my previous statement, Granger, you're a bloody menace."
"It's your fault!" Hermione said, trying to extract her arm from under her body. "You pulled me."
"You were trying to attack me with a cushion."
"You were being a prat!" Hermione grumbled, trapped between the back of the sofa and Draco's body.
"I thought I was a pervert?"
"You're both." She said, intensely aware that she could feel his body heat pressed against her in the small space.
"You're the one staring at my crotch." Draco snorted, and Hermione glared up at him. Shit. She was. In her defence, she was practically eye level with it. "You're not planning on stealing my pants to get even are you?"
Hermione blushed, looking down and making eye contact with Draco's crotch again. Blast it. She needed to move; this was a far to an intimate position. Not to mention awkward. Gods, they were incapable of not circling back to sex.
This conversation was quickly derailing, Hermione cleared her throat. She gulped and struggled, sitting up and straightening her jumper.
"I, um…" she mumbled, avoiding eye contact.
Draco tensed, sensing her resistance.
"I was just kidding, Granger." He said softly.
Hermione nodded, then frowned. She hadn't meant to make it awkward, but she had no idea how to keep the barriers between friends and more-than-friends up when it came so effortlessly to watch his body and react to his words. Even his gentle teasing made something low in her stomach flutter nervously.
"I told you to call me Hermione." She admonished him lightly.
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"I thought that was only when we were shagging?"
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"No, I said it was because we'd already slept together. Not because it was a continued occurrence."
Draco shuffled on the sofa, pulling himself into a sitting position.
"Alright. Whatever you say, Hermione."
He said it with the same purring voice she'd fallen for at the new year party. It made her insides melt and her heart pound. She looked at him, suddenly filled with the memories of every single time they'd snogged, and touched and…
Hermione bit her lip. She knew her pupils had dilated at the flood of memories, and if Draco's eyes were any indication he had been remembering the same thing.
Hermione forced herself to look away. Gods, it's not that hard not to throw yourself across the sofa at someone. What's wrong with you? Hermione cleared her throat and blinked rapidly, trying to dislodge the memories and get back to the real purpose of the day.
Looking back up, she noticed Draco frowning at the back of the sofa as if trying to do the same she had just done. Finally, he coughed, shuffled awkwardly and said,
"So, ah, how do we do this friend thing?"
Hermione thought for a moment. Clearly, they were having issues blurring the lines between friends and friends. They couldn't let their apparent sexual chemistry cloud their real need to be amicable, civil friends. It wasn't just their lives it affected now.
"We need a comprehensive set of rules," Hermione decided.
Draco groaned, his head flopping back onto the sofa.
"Of course." He groaned, "Only you, Hermione, would think being friends involves a plethora of rules and regulations."
Hermione wrinkled her nose.
"Not a plethora." She said with an eye roll. "Just a few basic ground rules."
Draco grunted a very doubtful grunt. She was sorely tempted to hit him with another cushion but didn't have one in reach. Hermione tried to read Draco's expression, but sometimes the mask was too good. He could be incredibly expressive when he wanted to be, usually to mock and tease, but other time he was so carefully guarded.
"But," she said, realising that she'd never really asked. "Do you agree? That it's best, we're just friends."
Draco's mask didn't shift, giving pure neutrality as he calmly said,
"As you said, it's for the best."
Hermione let out a tiny sigh and nodded. She smiled softly, and Draco returned it, although a far more polite tight-lipped replica of his usual grins she'd gotten used to.
"Good." She said, "Friends."
"Yes."
Hermione hesitated. She swallowed slowly. Friends. They were just friends. He just wanted to be friends. It was the right thing to do, even Draco agreed.
"So, these rules?" He asked.
"Oh, right," Hermione said.
There was a tension in the air now, the light-hearted Draco seemed to have gone. She supposed it was good. They could concentrate on their task at hand without distracting each other. They couldn't afford to slip back into shameless flirting.
"No sex." Hermione said, "That's rule number one, obviously."
"Obviously."
"And um, rule two…" Hermione chewed her lip. She didn't know what rule two was. She'd only decided on rules to stop them from sleeping together again when they'd both agreed just being friends was the right thing to do.
Draco raised an eyebrow and waited for her.
"Uh," she stumbled, she couldn't concentrate when he was just waiting for her in silence. She was used to, at least, mocking commentary. "Rule two…"
"Perhaps," Draco interrupted her trailing murmurs, "we should stick with rule one for now. We can add to them later if need be."
Hermione expected snark, or amusement or, at least, an eye roll. She got cold politeness. Bollocks, she scolded herself, what did she want? They couldn't just continue to flirt shamelessly while agreeing not to be together.
You wanted this. You agreed to this. You proposed this.
"Right." She said, "That sounds like a good plan."
A redundant sentence, she thought, now she just sounded like an idiot.
"Right." Draco agreed. "If that's all?"
"Oh," Hermione said, "Yes. I suppose so. For now."
"I should be going then," Draco said, dusting his trousers and rising from the sofa.
Hermione nodded, there was no reason for him to stay. She'd thought he might. They could talk or watch telly or eat more of the giant mountain of food Misty had prepared.
Draco slipped his shoes on while Hermione stared docility at her feet.
"I…" he paused, looking uncertain. Hermione looked up at him, and for a split second, she thought he might dip and kiss her cheek like he had done before at St Mungo's. The moment wilted as his grey eyes fixated at a point beyond her head and he tugged at the cuffs of his sleeves while he spoke.
"You'll keep me updated then?"
"Yes." Hermione murmured quietly.
"Very good." He nodded to her and walked to the floo.
Hermione turned on the sofa, mouth opening to say something that she hadn't even wrapped her brain around but he was gone, stepping into the green flames.
Hermione gulped and bit back the lump that settled in her throat.
If this was the right thing to do, then why did it feel so bad?
Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry
*Runs away*
Ok but seriously, Hi! How are you all?
Happy Sunday, hope everyone had a good weekend, don't break any hearts, ok?
Next chapter will be up on Tuesday or Wednesday ?
Nif.