A/N: So, there might be a tiny smidge of non-Dramione smut in this chapter. Don't lynch me. :)

8. "Pity Party" -Melanie Martinez

December 1, 1998

Hermione was waiting on the cold operating table, her feet already in the metal stirrups, as the doctor readied surgical tools between her legs. They had given her a potion to numb her mentally and physically, but she was awake. She would be awake for the entire procedure.

A nurse bustled around them, handing the doctor tools and gauze. A pan, Hermione nearly gagged as she realised what that had to be for. She squeezed her eyes shut tight against the bright florescent lighting, the scrapes and squeaks of metal clinking on metal enough to drive her mad.

The doctor touched her leg, "You're going to feel some pressure and then a pinch. Try to stay relaxed and breathe."

Hermione nodded, focusing solely on the backs of her eyelids. Silver eyes swam through her memory as she felt the cold tip of the metal probe against the apex of her thighs. "Stop!" she shrieked, bursting into tears. "I can't! I can't do this! Please!"

Doctor Astrid stood, quickly lowering the stirrups so that Hermione was laying flat against the cold table. "Miss Granger, it's okay. Mildred, a calming draught, please, quickly."

Hermione sobbed, trying to sit up, but her head swam with the effort. "I don't want to do this, Doctor Astrid. I can't." Hermione choked out.

"That's perfectly fine, Hermione. We'll get you back to your room and get you rested up. After that you can go home. I'll send you with some prenatal potions and then you can decide how you proceed from there. Merlin, I'm glad you spoke up when you did." The nurse returned with the calming draught, tipping it down Hermione's throat before they wheeled her back to her room.

Her head was becoming increasingly fuzzy, as they situated her bed. Three people gathered around her, each with varying expressions. Ginny's was profound sadness, Harry's a mixture of sadness and concern, but Ron's was relieved, almost happy. He gave a wan smile down at her, "I'm sorry, Hermione. I know you don't remember how it happened and I can't hold that against you forever. I forgive you, Hermione. Now that this is behind us, we can move forward with our lives," He said, reaching down to squeeze her hand. "I love you."

A tear slid down Hermione's cheek and she whispered, "I couldn't go through with it..." watching as his expression turned from relieved happiness to shock and anger. And then unconsciousness pulled her down into inky darkness.

December 10, 1998

Draco sat in the garden, ignoring the biting cold on his face. It was worth it to escape all of the women in the house. They were always twittering about, stringing up mistletoe all over the bloody manor. He had yet to fall into that trap, taking note of where it was hung and avoiding those places all together.

Bloody women. He could have done without all of the Holly Jolly Christmas shite. He was in no mood to celebrate. He was seriously considering apparating back to London, spending Christmas in his flat with his mates and a few bottles of firewhiskey when footsteps approached. He looked up from his spot on the stone bench to find Astoria prancing towards him.

Daphne had been in his year at school, but Astoria was a bit younger. She still attended Hogwarts, to the best of his knowledge, and he could only assume she was home for the Christmas holidays. "Hello, Draco." she said, moving to stand in front of him, her cheeks pinked from the cold.

"Astoria," he nodded, wondering what she wanted with him. She had shown little to no interest in him since he'd arrived. Daphne however had been talking his fucking ear off, one of the reasons he was now freezing his arse off in the garden.

Astoria studied him, her green eyes twinkling above her rosy cheeks. She had a long cloak pulled around her slender frame and she shivered slightly. "It's very cold out here. Why are you avoiding the warmth of the house to sit alone, in these bitter temperatures?"

Draco shrugged. "Too much hustle and bustle. I prefer the quiet, being left alone, you know." He said pointedly, smirking at her.

She smiled coyly back at him. "Well, I won't bother you. I just came out to hang this," she said, removing a bundle of mistletoe from beneath her cloak. Draco eyed it warily as she advanced. "I think I've found the perfect spot, you see."

Draco frowned as she stepped closer, reaching above his head to fasten it to the archway beneath which he was sitting, giving him a rather up close and personal view of her cleavage as her cloak fell open. "Oops." She grinned, looking down at him as he averted his eyes.

"There. Perfect." She announced, not moving from where she stood between his legs. "Don't you think we ought to try it out?"

Draco hesitated, thinking of Granger, "Aren't you worried about the nargles?" He asked, remembering their fifth year when Looney Lovegood had handed out fliers warning of the hidden perils of mistletoe.

Astoria's brows pulled together, "Nar-whats?"

Draco shook his head, shoving all thoughts of Hermione out of his mind. She wasn't his and she was never going to be. She was dating Weasley. She was a mudblood and he was a Malfoy and it would simply never work. Astoria on the other hand, came from one of the purest bloodlines in wizarding history. She was gorgeous, and here she stood before him, oh so willing. "Fuck it," he said, grabbing her arm and jerking her down onto his lap. He kissed her deeply, and she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. She turned, straddling him as she hiked her skirts up, grinding against the bulge in his pants as she brought their mouths back together.

"Stori! Astoria!" Her mother called from somewhere far off. "Supper's getting cold, love. Did you find Draco?"

Astoria pulled back grinning and winked at him. "Yes, Mother! Coming!" She said, reaching down to undo his pants, allowing him to spring free.

"What are you doing," he asked, taken by suprise.

"Well, you heard her. We have to be quick. Supper's getting cold, luv." And with that, she reached beneath her skirts, pulled her knickers aside and slammed down onto him. "Fuuuck," he hissed out as she bounced, her breasts jiggling in his face. She increased the rythym, slamming herself down over him until he was close to bursting. "I've taken a contraceptive potion," Astoria breathed, "Come." And he did as he felt her quicken against him, biting her lips as small moans escaped her. She stood quickly, adjusted her skirt and pulled the cloak tightly against herself.

"Let's go have dinner, shall we?" She gave a devilish grin, and turned for the house, leaving him stunned into silence.

December 25, 1998

Christmas was a lonely affair for Hermione. Her friends, of course, were celebrating at the Burrow. Hermione hadn't been invited along, and she wouldn't have bothered to go even if she had. Ron was furious with her for keeping the baby. He claimed to be able to forgive her for cheating, but told her she was going too far, expecting him to take part in raising her bastard child.

That had in turn infuriated Hermione, and she told him she didn't want him around her child any way, with his terrible attitude. Their row had been loud enough that security had escorted him from her hospital room and Dr. Astrid had scolded her for putting herself under so much stress. They hadn't spoken since.

She had been released the morning after she had backed out of having the abortion. Dr. Astrid had given her a box of prenatal potions, telling her to remember to take one per day. The following weeks had consisted of working as usual, occasionally being sick to her stomach and stuffing her face with copious amounts of sweets.

Christmas morning had dawned and she felt a wave of depression as she brewed a pot of tea. She hadn't even bothered with a tree. She saw no point. An owl had arrived from Harry and Ginny, wishing her a Happy Christmas. She had opened the package to find an assortment of sweets, including Chocolate Frogs, Cauldron Cakes and Pumpkin Pasties. She had eaten 11 Chocolate Frogs for breakfast, ignoring the nagging warning in her head that she didn't need to gain an excessive amount of weight. She had an appointment with Doctor Astrid at the end of January for a check-up and weigh in, and she wanted to stay in the proper realm of weight gain for a healthy pregnancy.

Her parents had called to wish her a Happy Christmas and she had thought, for a moment, of telling them that she was... pregnant, but she had quickly reconsidered. They would either be thrilled or disappointed. Either was unnecessary, as of yet, because she hadn't decided whether she was keeping the baby or putting it up for adoption. The thought clouded her mind, and she glanced over to the small sonogram picture hanging on the refrigerator.

The thought was weighing heavily on her and she hated having the task of making such a huge, life altering decision all on her own. Her entire life, she had relied on her friends. They had helped each other through any number of situations for years and now, here she was, on Christmas morning, alone, fat and depressed. Meanwhile, they were sharing a cheerful Christmas dinner.

Simply for something to do, she pulled out her mother's old collection of scrapbooking supplies and began making Christmas cards. She made one each for Harry, Ginny, Luna, Neville, and Dean. She made one for Andromeda and baby Teddy. She made one each for Professor McGonagall and Hagrid. She reluctantly made one for Ron. And finally, as an after thought, she made one for Malfoy. The Christmas Spirit must have gotten to her at last, that or the hormones. She figured he at least, was one person who could use some Christmas cheer as much as she, with his father being in Azkaban. That had to be hard, especially around the Holidays.

She waved her wand over them, making the words flash and the pictures move. Then she tucked them into envelopes, scrawled names across them, and sent her owl off to deliver them.

She made herself a large mug of hot chocolate and settled down, nestling into the plush cushions of the couch with a blanket and a book.

December 26, 1998

A battered and beaten looking owl arrived, pecking at Draco's bedroom window, the morning after Christmas. He disentangled himself from Astoria's sleeping form and crossed over to open the latch, letting the owl in to rest. "You look rough," he told the bird, who hooted disdainfully. Draco removed the envelope from his leg and gestured over to a plate of toast the house elves must have brought up while he slept. "Help yourself," he muttered.

The owl fluttered over to peck gratefully at the bread as Draco ripped open the letter. Upon opening it, he realised that it wasn't a letter, but a Christmas card. He looked it over, pausing when he noticed the signature. Granger had sent him a Christmas card... why? Maybe his spell hadn't worked as well as he had thought. Were she and Weasley together? And if they were, why was she sending him a card on Christmas. She never had before. If his spell hadn't held, maybe they had split up...

"Draco," Astoria whined. "I'm cold. Come back to bed."

He sighed, tossing the card onto the dresser to analyze later.

March 2, 1999

Hermione frowned, staring down at the crumpled up Christmas card she held. Ron had sent his back the day after Christmas, wadded up, with a note that said, 'A card doesn't fix this.' She had teared up, but quickly dashed them away, not wanting to go into a full out crying jag, which she was liable to do. She cried a lot lately. She kept the card, tucked away in a kitchen drawer and she had taken to getting it out and looking at it, almost daily. No, a card definitely wouldn't fix things between them. She knew that they were over. She only wished that they could still be friends. Ron had always been her friend. It hurt that he wasn't there for her during this time, though she understood why. She had made an awful mistake. He wasn't soon to forgive her. She looked down at her protruding belly. She poked it gently, "This is all your fault, you know." An answering nudge landed against her hand.

A knock at the door startled her. She crossed over to it quickly, peeking out of the small peephole and sighing. She swung the door forward and Ginny rushed inside, a large bundle in her arms. "Okay, so, I know you still haven't decided, BUT they were on sale, and I simply had to, Hermione. Wait 'til you see them!"

"Ginny, do you know how long it's going to take me to get rid of all this stuff when I give the baby up?" She motioned to her sitting room, which was overflowing with baby supplies that Ginny always insisted 'were on sale' or argued 'you can totally use these burp clothes for dish rags if you don't keep the baby.' She hadn't even had an argument when she had dropped off the baby swing, other than 'it's soooo cute, 'Mione.'

"Well, even more incentive to keep her." Ginny grinned, beginning to unwrap the parcel she had brought.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We don't know if the baby is a girl, Ginny. And if he's a boy, I doubt he wants to spend the next three years wearing pink, which is exactly how long he'll be stuck in it if you keep buying baby clothes!"

"Aw, c'mon, Hermione. Your main excuse was that you couldn't afford a baby. Well, I'm helping. And I'll be the best damn aunt you have ever seen if you keep her." Ginny grinned, spreading out the clothes across the couch for Hermione to examine them.

"Ginny, the baby stage is only a fraction of my worries. What about when he starts school? I won't be able to afford tuition for him to go to Hogwarts. I want him to have everything a child could ever wish for and I can't give him that." Hermione argued. She would never admit how sad the thought of handing her little bean over to someone else made her feel. But she couldn't be selfish.

"You have eleven years to save for tuition, and for Godric's sake, Hermione, you are 19 years old. You'll find a man and settle down. You talk like you're middle aged. You'll be promoted at the Ministry any time now, with your work ethic, and you'll get a pay raise. You can do this."

"No man is going to want to settle down with me when I can't tell them who the father of my child is. 'Oh, cute baby.' 'Thanks, I got drunk and apparently lost my virginity before I was Obliviated, so I don't know who his dad is.' They would run for the hills, and you know it." Hermione said, walking over to the counter to grab a tray of biscuits. She popped one in her mouth and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Well, maybe don't lead with that." Ginny teased, holding up a tiny dragon onesie. "Tell me this isn't precious?"

"Of course it is, Ginny. But an adorable onesie isn't going to make my mind up."

She pursed her lips. "Perhaps not. But maybe 12 adorable onesies could sway you?" She dumped out a sack of multicolored baby shirts, and Hermione couldn't help but laugh. It would be nice, keeping her baby, raising him... But she still wasn't convinced she could do it. Her parents were coming for a visit tomorrow and she was finally going to tell them. Her nerves were shot, but she couldn't keep it from them forever, not when she was due in three months.

"Did Ron have a nice birthday party?" Hermione asked, trying to act blase and failing miserably.

Ginny scowled at her, "I would say he can't stay mad forever, but he seems especially stubborn of late."

"I can't fault him for it, Ginny. I got pregnant while we were dating after all."

Ginny shook her head, "Yes, but you were drunk and can't remember it! You could have been raped for all the information we have. He was going to forgive you if you had... you know, gone through with the procedure. Why can't he forgive you now? He's a git."

"Yes, well. If it had been the opposite and he had gotten some witch pregnant while we were dating, I might be acting similarly. I can't be upset with him." Hermione said, running her hands over the tiny baby clothes littered over the couch.

"Do you realise there are only 89 days left until June and you're still stuck in the decision making process. What if she comes early? You don't have a nursery ready, or any names picked out..."

"Ginerva Weasley, if you don't stop pressuring me I will hex you." Hermione snapped.

"Whoa, hormones," Ginny said, holding her hands up in surrender. "I also brought these," she said, tossing a small package into Hermione's lap. She tore the paper off, revealing a box of Cauldron Cakes.

She raised and eyebrow, smirking back at her friend. "Are you trying to bribe me with sweets?"

Ginny shrugged. "Only if it's working."

Hermione sighed. "Maybe talking to my parents will help me make a decision. Is Molly still, er, cross with me?"

Ginny chewed her lip dejectedly. "A bit, but she's mad at Ron, too. She knows that it was his fault as much as yours."

Hermione nibbled at a Cauldron Cake, her hand absentmindedly stroking her swollen belly. She had thought that life had been complicated during the war, but honestly, it might be even more complicated now. At least then, she had known the right thing to do. The choice had been very black or white. This choice was decidedly more difficult. All of her choices were grey.