Theretofore on GG:

"I was at the doctor this afternoon," Hermione admitted, fighting the urge to move her hand to rest below her breasts. "In the city; the women's clinic." Faye's curiosity grew into blatant worry. She felt guilty for concerning Hermione with her living arrangements when she had living to worry about.

"God, Hermione," she said softly, clasping Hermione's hand between her own. "What is it?" The brunette sighed, preparing herself for the first break of news. She turned to her blonde friend and offered a half smile.

"I'm pregnant."

-----------------------------------

Chapter 8: Blues

Faye sat speechless, staring at Hermione as she wrung her hands and bit a lesion in her lip.

"Pregnant? You're sure?" she asked tentatively and her flatmate nodded with eyes entranced by her lap.

"I had no idea. I went in for a rudimentary pelvic exam, and the next thing I knew they were asking my permission to administer a pregnancy test. In retrospect, I should have had some sort of suspicion. I've been sick a lot lately, eating abnormally, gaining weight... when I had to use the next set of hooks on my bra, I should have known something was wrong."

"It's called subliminal denial. Literally, your brain won't let you realize," Faye said, placing a comforting hand on Hermione's arm as the distraught brunette covered her face with quaking hands. "How long?"

"Three months, already," Hermione said softly, rubbing at her eyes. Faye looked surprised.

"Blimey. Damn, Manny, you look good for three months," she blurted, making her flatmate laugh, and Faye gave a half smile, pulling Hermione's head to her chest. They sat in comfortable silence until the blonde girl found her face contorting in confusion. "Wait; does that mean...?" Hermione smiled, nodding against Faye's cotton pajamas.

"The casket house," she validated and her pillow shuddered.

"I told you that was a bad idea."

"Yes, well, it certainly didn't seem so at the time," Hermione said, laughing softly, but a little frown soon returned to her face. "I want my mummy," she admitted childishly, sniffling as Faye tightened her embrace. It was well known between them that Hermione's parents had divorced when she was seventeen, finalized just weeks before graduation, and her father had left to become a missing person. She had stopped accepting his phone calls after he had waited nearly an entire year to contact her and his pathetic efforts soon dulled to nothing. It had been years since Hermione had even bookmarked a current address.

Hermione's mother, left alone to pay her daughter's tuition, had endured a few months of heavy stress and suffered a fatal stroke when Hermione had aged only 19.

"I'm sorry, Manny," Faye whispered comfortingly, stroking her flatmate's hair and holding her tightly. "I take it you haven't told Draco?" Hermione shook her head.

"I don't know how; I don't know what to say, or how he'll react. What am I supposed to do?"

"Don't worry so much," Faye suggested, smiling slightly. "Draco wanted to take the next step, didn't he?" Hermione laughed dryly.

"This is more than a step, Faye. I've practically pushed him down the entire staircase."

"I'm sorry, love," Faye said, sighing softly, "but you don't have much choice. You can tell Draco now and risk a doubtful negative reaction, discuss it and decide together, or make a decision yourself as to what to do, as much as I frown upon your 'choices'." Hermione sat up, wiping her eyes.

"What do you mean... choices?"

"The three A's of unplanned pregnancy," she explained. "Acceptation, adoption, and... abortion." Hermione audibly gasped.

"Of course not!" she burst in defense. "What do you take me for, Faye? I am keeping my baby, no matter what Draco or anyone else says. Yes, it was a mistake, but it was my mistake and I accept the consequences. I couldn't live with myself otherwise; knowing I'd killed my own child or... or walking past someone on the street and wondering, could it be?" Faye smiled widely.

"In that case, congratulations. If my opinion counts for anything, I'd like you know that I second your decision. I put my money on Draco doing the same thing," she said and Hermione's anger dissolved again into worry.

"But what if he doesn't?"

"He will. And, for better or for worse, you'll always have me. I might not be much right now, but I'll help in any way I can," Faye assured. Hermione smiled and rested her head against her shoulder.

"Thank you," she whispered in return and the room again gave way to silence. When Hermione felt her eyes begin to lose focus, she forced herself to remain conscious and sat up. "I've had an incredibly long day. I think I'll turn in early." Faye nodded in agreement.

"You should. 'Night Manny; I'll put in a housing claim first thing tomorrow," she said over her shoulder, leafing through her book to find her forgotten page. Hermione, who was half way to the little hallway, stopped short and turned around.

"Why?" she asked, brows woven, and ran a hand over the slight swell of her abdomen. Faye smiled up at her.

"Well, this changes things. I'm not about to force you and your baby away from its father. You should be with Draco right now; he should be just as miserable as you are, waiting on you hand and foot and doing everything you tell him to. The sooner I find a dorm, the better."

"Faye," Hermione said, coming back for one last embrace. "You're the best friend I've ever had. I'd marry you, but certain circumstances suggest me to decide otherwise." Faye laughed and pushed her friend away.

"Go to bed; you have to talk to Draco tomorrow," she said, shooing her away, and Hermione frowned, sighing.

"Don't remind me."

-x- -x- -x-

"Good morning, love," Draco said cheerfully as he entered the showroom, coming up to Hermione and kissing her cheek as he encircled his arms around her tightly from behind. "Why didn't you tell me you were here?" Hermione smiled from her stool behind the counter, placing her pencil down and turning her mind away from bookkeeping long enough to relish his embrace.

"I didn't want to wake you," she said, shrugging a shoulder. "I couldn't sleep, so I got up early and decided to come over and get a jump start on your finances." Draco squeezed her closer and placed a second, more audible kiss below her ear. Hermione giggled as he released her.

"You really are too good to me," he told her as he turned and disappeared into the back room. Hermione smiled after him before turning back to her figures, mildly depressed by the return of silence in the little storeroom. However personal and quaint the shop seemed to be, it was always somewhat accompanied by a feeling of loneliness. As if reading her mind, Draco returned to the front of the store without more than five minutes of delay, carrying in his arms a wooden chest filled with a myriad of unfinished pine pieces.

"What's all that?" Hermione asked, lifting her head to watch as Draco set the box on the floor in front of the children's section. He smiled at her.

"A little project. I didn't sleep well last night either; stayed up for quite a bit, just whittling. I have a nasty habit of starting a piece and losing interest, so I decided to finish up all my partials. Mostly little toys and snitches," he explained passively, opening the little chest and unloading enough animals to fill Noah's ark; lions, horses, hippos, unicorns, peccaries, and various types of birds all littered the now bursting shelf, unfinished, but sanded and smooth; ready for any craftsman to hand paint and personalize.

Hermione watched him until his train of animals ceased and gave way to heaps of decorative snitches; pre-charmed to flutter and dash like any of their golden cousins. Draco smiled at her, arms laden with fledged balls, and disappeared around the row of furniture displayed in the center of the room, feet directed toward the Quidditch section of the shop. With a sigh and wistful smile, Hermione turned again to her calculations.

Her face dropped completely as she registered the task at hand. As far as she could tell, Draco's monthly income varied from two hundred galleons profit to negative two hundred galleons profit. In fact, more often than not, he was lucky to break even. Hermione knew Draco, and she knew that he had no problem making two boxes of cereal and a gallon of milk last an entire week, but she had a feeling that her salary, however many overtime hours she clocked, would barely keep the two of them and a little one alive. Hermione had not lied to Draco about her excruciatingly restless night, but did understate just how long she had been doing figures in the meager light of his unopened shop. It had barely broken dawn when she had appeared outside, using her brand new key to allow herself entry, and now that the clock had passed ten, it marked her fourth hour of study.

As promised and recited, Hermione dove right into Draco's accounts, calculating and figuring the first month with optimistic ease until she came to a final conclusion of three galleons, twelve sickles, and thirteen knuts profit. She recalculated the entire month, sure she had made some elemental and abominable mistake, but only to receive the same answer. With woven brows and a troubled mind, Hermione rooted one hand on her stomach as she took a break from Draco's bookkeeping to estimate her own expenses.

Hermione, too, was a modest spender with a relatively small paycheck. She worked on commission and if no one had died, there would be no extra cash come payday. Emory's Mortuary was a small, personally run parlor which resided in a small town and on average saw only four to five elderly per week provided no tragedy had occurred. For this reason, Hermione was forced to be conscientious of her spending and only indulge when her paycheck was more than enough to pay her share of bills for both the ending week and the approaching.

For the time being, remaining optimistic that Draco would offer his full support, Hermione estimated her average salary and factored in the fact that living with Draco would mean no payment needed for utilities. Once this was finished, she had successfully worked herself into an uneasy and agonized state. The amount in total would be by no means enough for hospital bills, diapers, baby clothes, and anything else the little one might need. Even then, Hermione herself would need new clothes as her stomach grew and would lose a hefty sum when off work on maternity leave. Some things could be taken care of inexpensively; Draco could build any new furniture and his creativity in toy making would be enough to entertain any toddler. Negatively, the time and materials needed to create these things would mean loss of business; something they literally could not afford. And still, this was under the optimism that Draco would be willing to sacrifice his life for the sake of their child.

"Something wrong, love?" he asked as he returned from his trip around the bend. "I'm not that far in the hole, am I?" Hermione shook her head, forcing a smile on her lips. Not yet, you're not.

"You're fine; I was just taking a break. Thinking- you know," she explained, sinking her teeth slightly into the tab of pink rubber at the end of her marker. Draco exhaled upwardly, making a lock of hair flutter in front of his face, and rested his elbows on the countertop, facing his girlfriend with a brilliant smile.

"I really appreciate you doing this for me, Hermione," he said seriously. "I know it isn't exactly going to be the highlight of your week." Hermione offered him half a smile. On the contrary...

"It's nothing," she assured, shaking her head. "I'm actually glad to be doing it. Makes me feel quite a bit better about my paycheck. You made an impressive G12.6.27* last month, did you know?" Draco smiled, lifting a shoulder.

"Gets me by. It's not so bad being poor if you're doing something you like to do. Just your classic snobby-little-rich-boy looking for a simpler life."

"If Hogwarts could hear your now," Hermione teased, flicking the tip of his nose with her finger, and Draco grinned.

"That reminds me; I want to show you something," he said hurriedly and dashed again into the back, leaving Hermione momentarily alone in the showcase. When Draco returned, he was again holding a box. This one was made of cardboard, covered with brightly colored paper and topped with a ribbon bow. Hermione lifted her eyebrow, and tried to recall if the date had any special significance.

"Draco?" she asked in confusion and he grinned.

"Not for you, I'm afraid," he admitted with a crooked smile, settling the package carefully on the countertop. "For Marin's birthday." Draco spoke passively, dismissing the conversation for favor of removing the lid and uncloaking his masterpiece. He reached inside the box to carefully extract whatever marvel lay within and Hermione watched with intense curiosity and interest.  

She gasped as she saw it; a scale model of Hogwarts and all its grounds, complete with an ominous castle, Quidditch pitch, greenhouses, a lake (garnished with squid), forest, and a little mini Hogsmeade. The landscape was dotted with magical creatures, such as various unicorns, centaurs, and a grand Mushussu, that most likely would not be seen on school grounds, but accented the mood of the piece with mystery and mysticism. The highlight of the wooden wonder, though rivaled by the intricate castle and detailed beasts, was a scarlet train on golden tracks which made continuous circles around the elevated campus, slowing to a stop ever so often at Hogsmeade station.

"Draco, this is amazing," Hermione said in awe, carefully running fingers over various parts of the model. Most of the more difficult jobs were already painted; the animals, greenhouses, and train, as well as some of the landscaping, starting from the bottom.

"I'm going to put a music box in the bottom; it just came in yesterday afternoon. If you're worried about it not being finished by Saturday, I promise it will be. Painting isn't what takes the most effort," he said, smiling at her awe and words of praise. Hermione shook her head.

"Oh, I'm not worried at all," she assured. "Did you make this all last night? You mustn't have slept at all." Draco chuckled.

"Merlin, no. I've been working for about a month and a half. Slacked off a little toward the end, when I was sure I'd have enough time," he said, and to Hermione's lifted eyebrow he shrugged. "If we'd decided not to tell her, it would still make a fine present. She didn't necessarily need to know that any of this existed."

"That's good," Hermione said with a sly smile. "Because some of it doesn't exist. I don't recall there ever being a three headed dragon guarding the gates." Draco smirked.

"Who's to say I can't have a little fun?" he asked in defense and Hermione smiled, leaning forward to kiss him.

"Thank you, Drake. She'll love it. I know she will, because I do and she and I are one in the same. It almost makes me want to go back," Hermione said dreamily, waiting for the little train to exit the tunnel and smiling as it stopped in Hogsmeade. She sighed and pointed. "That was my compartment, right there." Draco smiled.

"Really? I wish I'd have known. I would've painted you in the window," he prodded and Hermione laughed, kissing him again before tearing her attention from the masterpiece and focusing back on the depressing state of his bank account. Draco, oblivious and apathetic to the world surrounding galleons, repackaged his masterpiece and set it safely behind the counter, out of harm's way and in plain view of both himself and Hermione.

Parcel safely tucked away, Draco took a seat on a stool beside Hermione; resting his head on a fist as he watched her mark down numbers and perform mathematical procedures he truthfully could not identify. Soon growing tired of the feeling of ignorance she unconsciously settled upon him, Draco sighed softly.

"Hermione, what do you want for Christmas?" he asked innocently, marking a kiss on her shoulder. Hermione gave a snort-like sound of amusement.

"You can't afford to get me a Christmas present," she joked half-seriously, smirking over her shoulder at him. Draco mimicked her.

"Don't worry about that. I'll find a way; I always do," he insisted, but Hermione shook her head and turned again to her figures. Draco slyly plucked the pencil from her moving hand.

"Hey!" she called in surprise, but Draco held tight to his captive. "Do you want me to do this for you, or don't you?"

"Right now, I want you to tell me what you want."

"I want my pencil back, thank you very much," Hermione said in a tone so like herself at thirteen that it made Draco laugh and grant her wishes. He waited patiently for her answer to his previous question, but she ignored him and shifted so that he could not try again to take her instrument without alerting her of it first.

"Hermione," he whined and she sighed, running fingers into her hair.

"I don't know, Draco," she admitted, sounding as if her desire and constitution were torn. "I want very much to say nothing and curse you if you ask again, but... it is our first Christmas and I really would like something to remember it by." She paused a moment, dropping her hand from her hair and chewing on the end of her pencil. "You know what? Make me something." Draco lifted an eyebrow, intrigued.

"As in?"

"Anything, as long as it doesn't take materials you need for something else and isn't too involved and time consuming. After all, time is money, isn't it?" she suggested wholesomely, offering a little smile. Draco gave a nod and kissed her quickly.

"Agreed. If that's what you really want."

"I do," Hermione said, finalizing the conversation. She paused for a moment, going back to her math as Draco watched her, but in the silence the nagging voice of a certain blonde freshman rang in her ears. She sighed, turning to him slowly, almost sadly. "What do you want?" Draco grinned.

"I just want you," he said automatically, and cut Hermione off as she opened her mouth to protest. "I already told you; you can have as much time as you want. I don't care if my gift comes belated or never at all, it is what I want and nothing you say will change my mind." She slouched slightly, smiling, and Draco mocked her. "Besides, I thought you'd already gotten me something?" Hermione was reminded of his visit the previous night, and a sense of foreboding washed over her. Her countenance darkened and she looked suddenly troubled, turning her eyes to stare blankly at the table in front of her. Draco, by association, frowned as well. "Hermione?"

"About that..." she said softly, referring to his gift, "I need to talk to you." Draco lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing as Hermione continued. "I... I'm just not sure if you're going to like it." Draco quickly broke into a touched smile.

"Don't worry so much. I'm sure I'll love whatever it is you give me. It'll be from you, won't it?" he remarked cleverly and Hermione smiled softly.

"I hope so," she said and allowed herself a calming breath. "This one will definitely be a bit belated. You helped me decide on it about three months ago, and I'll be expecting it to be delivered sometime in early June." Draco, now completely intrigued in his confusion, leaned closer, eager to hear more. Hermione set her pencil down and crossed her arms over her stomach, leaning forward self consciously. "It'll have ten fingers and ten toes, blond hair and brown eyes." She paused, turning to look up at him. "Or, maybe, brown hair and... eyes like stormy, twilight skies." There was an echoing pause and Hermione waited, gaze locked with Draco's, for any sign of reaction. His eyes moved quickly and calculatingly, studying her face.

"Hermione," he finally said, voice barely above a whisper. "What are you saying?" She looked quickly away, neglecting to answer, but Draco reached forward and lifted her chin. "Hermione?" he asked, somewhat demandingly, and she shuddered.

"I'm..." she started, then corrected herself, "We; we're going to have a baby, Draco."

He stopped breathing. Hermione could feel the air between them grow slightly thicker without his added intake of breath and the knowledge was maddening. She broke into a dry sob, relieving the buildup of tension and leaving her with undiluted nervousness.

"Before you say anything," she began hurriedly, speaking quickly and rocking slowly back and forth, arms still crossed over her midsection. "I want to keep this baby, so please don't ask me to... to get rid of it."

"I wouldn't," Draco said, exhaling deeply, but Hermione shook her head.

"I know that puts a lot of pressure on you and I'm sorry. I don't want you to feel obligated to be with me and accept this, because I know we didn't plan on it and it isn't something that's just going to go away. I can't make you do anything, Draco. I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do. You don't have to take any responsibility, because I can do this on my own. I know I can, but I..." she paused, turning for the first time to look into his eyes. "I want you with me." Draco stared, struck speechless, as Hermione beseeched him with her eyes. He knew her well enough to read through her words. Please, Draco. Please don't leave me, thought Hermione; always the one to take the fall, to admit her fault, to peddle safety in a carpet bag and sell it to villagers for equal its worth in pain. He drew her toward him, pulling her shoulders to his chest in a crushing embrace.

"Hermione," he said, marking feather light kisses in her hair. "If this relationship is going to work, you're going to have to learn to trust me." Hermione sniffled, though she cried no tears, and turned to look up at him.

"Do you mean it?" she asked, unable to believe. "You'll stay with me?"

"Of course I will," he said, brushing her hair with his fingertips and allowing them to curl around her ear. "I love you." Hermione took a stuttering breath as dampness drew from her eyes.

"You do?" she asked, fighting tears, and Draco laughed in spite of her, nodding. Hermione sobbed and moved her hands to hold his head as she kissed him, forcing Draco to brace himself for fear of falling off his stool. When they broke apart, Hermione rested her head below his chin, somewhat out of breath and exhausted from the exertion involved in the ordeal. "I love you, too," she whispered. "I love you too."

-x- -x- -x-

"Oh, Draco, I'm so happy," Hermione sang, crawling toward where he sat on the carpeted floor of his apartment. Draco looked up with an inclined eyebrow.

"Why? This is horrible. I bet it tasted good in 1965," he said, savagely jabbing the frozen-dinner Salisbury steak he had managed to find them for lunch, and watching with amusement as the fork held its own and remained upright. Hermione laughed softly and reclined on the floor beside him, arms folded behind her head as she stared at the highly vaulted ceiling.

"I don't know why," she said, ignoring his comments about their meal (which she too had left nearly untouched). "I shouldn't be this happy. You're the only thing good in my life right now," she said, pausing to look up at him. "I suppose that might be reason enough?" Draco smiled and pushed his tray far out of their way, then rested himself on top of her so that his ear was pressing a mark above her navel.

"I think there might be other things," he reminded, tracing lines over her curved sides with his fingertips. Hermione smile and moved a hand to lodge fingers in his hair.

"But there're so many bad things," she said, sounding not sad, but rather disappointed. "Are you sure you're up to this, Drake? This is going to take a lot of money, and a lot of sacrifice." She felt his arms snake around her waist, lifting her slightly off the ground as he held her in a demanding embrace.

"Of course I am," he said, sounding almost offended. "I want you, Hermione. I want both of you. I'll give anything." Hermione sighed.

"What about everything?" she asked softly and Draco kissed her stomach through the cotton of her t-shirt.

"Everything," he assured. Hermione sat up, still frowning, and Draco was forced to do the same. He retained their embrace, however; holding her in his arms in a protective nature.

"Draco," she said, closing her eyes tiredly and bowing her head. "I want you to fully realize what you're agreeing to do."

"I'm not stupid, love," he said, kissing her forehead. "I know it'll be hard work, I've met a few toddlers in my time." Hermione shook her head.

"I don't mean that. Draco, I've done the figures three times over. We simply don't have enough money for a baby," she admitted plainly and sighed. "I can quit my job with Emory and find a city parlor, as much as I don't want to leave him, but that will mean more work as well as more money. I'd have to move closer; it isn't safe to apparate after the second trimester." Hermione paused and opened her eyes. "Even in the best case, that won't be enough. There will be a lot of hospital and prenatal expenses and I'll have to take maternity leave at some point." She allowed herself another sigh. "I told you I could do it alone, that I wouldn't need your help and not to worry about me... but I only said it so it wouldn't influence your decision. Draco, I can't do this without you."

"Hey," Draco said, allowing an arm to break free from their embrace and its corresponding hand to come quickly to her face, cradling her cheek as he marked a gentle kiss on her lips. "I told you I would do anything, didn't I?" Hermione gave a tiny smile. "I'll sell the shop," he concluded sternly and Hermione's face fell. "Don't look at me like that; I mean it. This building itself will catch a rather fancy sickle; maybe enough to get us a little place of our own, hm? Two bedrooms and a little backyard with a patio... and a garden, if you want one." She sighed, smiling softly, and dropped her head to rest on his shoulder.

"You make everything sound so picturesque and simple."

"It will be, you'll see," he assured her, lying backward to hold her weight above him. "I don't mean to be brazen, but I think myself to be a fairly accomplished man in my chosen field," Draco said and Hermione nodded against him in agreement. "If I am working for someone and receiving a real paycheck every week it should help quite a bit. Depending on how much I'll actually earn, we could always ask my mother for help. She holds claim to all the Malfoy real estate and riches. When she dies, god forbid, all that will be passed down to me and we'll really have nothing to worry about. I don't believe in taking advantage of my lineage and neither does my mother; we shall ask only for what we truly need and nothing more."

"I wouldn't have it any other way. If it were up to me and not the fates, we wouldn't have to ask for anything at all."

"We might not; it all depends on our luck in finding new jobs in the city. It could prove quite a feat," Draco said, sighing softly. "We just have to be optimistic," he decided. "Perhaps they'll think me undiscovered talent and I'll rise to assistant manager within weeks." Hermione laughed softly and Draco smiled. "Too much? All right; since we own no car and probably will not be able to afford one for quite some time, I could turn our garage into a smaller workshop and start making more and refinishing less."

"Now that's a good idea," Hermione agreed, kissing his jawbone.

"You think so?"

"Do you really want to know what I think?" she asked him and Draco turned his head downward, eyebrows raised in intrigue. "I think you should start focusing on pieces like Marin's birthday present. It really is amazing, Draco, and perfect for the amount of space you'll have. If we play our cards right, they could fetch a handsome price as well." Draco, now deep in thought, rested his head against the carpet. Hermione smiled beside him. "That is, of course, once you finish making baby furniture. With a man of your talents as my baby's father, I'm not about to go buying anything that can be made."

"Baby," he repeated softly, a genuine smile molding his face. "I think I'm starting to get excited. June, you said? I don't know if I can wait until June." Hermione laughed.

"Well, I imagine you'll have to, Draco, because I'm not about to give birth any sooner than humanly possible," Hermione said, but Draco was hardly paying attention.

"We have to tell everyone; come, now," he said, rolling her carefully away from him and getting to his feet before assisting her in doing the same. Hermione laughed.

"Now?" she repeated and Draco nodded exaggeratedly. "Who shall we tell?" His brow crinkled in concentration.

"Well, I imagine Faye should be the first..." he began, but Hermione lifted a finger.

"She already knows," she said and Draco looked somewhat hurt.

"You told her before me?" he asked, frowning, and she laughed softly, kissing each of the corners of his mouth.

"I'm sorry. I was scared; I needed to tell someone."

"But I was there last night."

"But I didn't know what you'd say. I know I should have more faith in you, Drake, but it's hard, on the spot, with such a drastic effect to come in the wake of your answer." She stepped forward and embraced him. "I've been burned before."

"I know. I'm not angry," he said, returning her affection. "You can trust me, Hermione. I love you, I won't leave you. Especially not now, when we have so much planned." Suddenly, Hermione tensed and stepped away.

"Draco, I don't want us to be together for the baby. I don't want us to be miserable and unhappy and sticking it through because we think we have to. That isn't fair to us, and it won't be fair to it either. I'd never force you away; even if we weren't together, you're still my baby's father and I want you a part of its life no matter what," she said, and Draco shook his head, holding her face in his hands.

"Don't you think on that for a second, Hermione. That is one thing that you really don't have to worry about."

"I love you," she said, giving him half a smile, and Draco returned it ten fold.

"Let's go tell my mother."

-----------------------------------

*Note: I don't know what the symbol is for galleons (like $ for dollars) so I decided instead to just use a 'G'. An amount containing all three forms, as it does appear above, is written as such: Draco's profit for the month was "G12.6.27" :: 12 galleons, 6 sickles, 27 knuts. It should be read and pronounced as such, just like we as Americans would pronounce $5.25 as five dollars and 25 cents. I do it this way because there are 17 S in a G and 29K in an S. Percentages would be difficult.

...

A/N: Phew! Omg, I love this story. I bet you all hate it, don't you? Everyone is strange and out of character... ::sigh::. I love it. I'm sorry, but I really do. :oD