"This is insane," Hermione groaned and slumped into a chair across from Ginny Weasley. She had all but forced the older girl to meet her in the astronomy tower after classes.
"You're telling me! Geez, Mione, when I saw you this morning I thought Draco had actually knocked you up!" Ginny spit out the muggle slang like a pro, the result of binge watching dozens of rom-coms at Hermione's house that summer.
Hermione snorted. "God, like I would ever even let him touch me! Much less shag the ferret!"
"I mean, no offense or anything, but you did sleep with my brother, and he's fairly revolting."
"Ginny!"
"What? All I'm saying is it's not completely out of the question," Ginny shrugged. "Sorry, but I've gotta go. Colin Creevy wants to interview me and Lav for a new fashion column."
The redhead hugged her best friend and left Hermione to sit with her thoughts. She sighed and passed her hands over her newly inflated belly.
Triplets. Three screaming, crying, pooping babies. Not one, three. Cherry on top: Draco Malfoy's DNA.
Hermione had never been great with kids, especially infants. She had babysat a few times when she was fifteen, and quit after one of the kids projectile vomited onto her. When her aunts and uncles had her younger cousins, she had always been terrified to hold the tiny newborns, out of fear she could somehow hurt them. This was basically her worst nightmare. It was Friday night, and she was outrageously pregnant and alone.
She wandered back to the apartment, and realized that there was now one door leading to a massive common room, and the individual portraits encircled the room. Laura, Paisley, and Padma were huddled in the corner, comparing their bumps. Hermione noticed bitterly that their's were all minuscule compared to hers.
"Hermione!" Padma shouted across the room, "Come over here! We're all talking about our babies!"
Our babies, Hermione fought to hide the grimace on her face.
"No thanks, I've actually got some homework to do."
She sulked into her own apartment and collapsed onto the couch. She noticed her ankles were already beginning to swell, and her feet felt like bricks.
"Malfoy?" Hermione called out, suddenly realizing how silent it was. When she didn't get an answer, she settled in with a good book and passed the time. She couldn't care less about where he was.
Draco threw back another shot of firewhiskey and slammed the glass onto the bar.
"Another one!" He shouted to all his friends.
The majority of seventh year Slytherins were crammed into the Leaky Cauldron, getting drunk off their asses. Most of them were eighteen, and the few that weren't paid off the bartender.
"Fuck," Draco groaned to Blaise, who was sat next to him at the bar. "If I have to listen to that muggle-born's snotty voice anymore I'm gonna go crazy. Did I tell you she actually got in the same bed as me last night? Never thought I'd share a bed with a girl and not shag, much less Hermione fucking Granger."
"Pregnant Hermione Granger," Blaise pointed out, flagging down the bartender.
"Pregnant. Merlin, can you imagine the Ministry being bonkers enough to pull this off?"
"I don't have to," the dark haired boy smirked, "it's already been pulled off."
Draco shuddered, pounded back two more shots, and started surveying the crowd. If he had to go back to an apartment and deal with that shrew, he might as well have some fun beforehand.
Hermione was jolted awake by a loud thud.
At first she wasn't sure she had heard it, until it was followed by a chorus of vulgarities.
"Oh, shit. Damn furniture. Who the fuck puts a chair right in front of the door?"
She rubbed her eyes and sighed. Draco was back. Having trouble keeping her eyes open, as she could only imagine what time it was, she flopped back under the covers. Within seconds, the door creaked open and she could literally smell Draco come in. His shoes hit the floor with a bang and he collapsed in the bed next to her, seemingly forgetting she was there.
"You reek," she stated matter of factly, not bothering to roll over and face him.
"Firewhiskey," he mumbled into the pillow. "Oh," she felt him roll over, "hey, incubator."
"Excuse me?"
Did he just call her the incubator?
She almost turned over to question him further, until she heard his snores. She sighed and tried to go back to sleep, but was failing due to the alcoholic fumes radiating off of the ferret.
"I'm gonna get drunk off of the smell alone," she murmured, climbing out of the bed and grabbing her pillow.
She wandered to the living room, and debated crashing on the small couch they had, until she remembered the common room had a massive sofa. Upon arrival, though, she discovered that space was already occupied. Blaise Zabini was sprawled out, face down, both legs hanging as if he had collapsed halfway across the room. And he was giving off the same smell of Firewhiskey as Draco.
"You've got to be kidding me," Hermione huffed and dragged herself back to her own bedroom.
This or nothing, I guess.
