I do not own Harry Potter and everything belongs to J.K. Rowling.

AN: I love Ron! *flail* Oh, and I said a couple chapters ago about Hermione being eight weeks- I think I'm going to change the timeline some. Let's say she's closer to three months. That okay? (I want to move it along a bit more.)

I stared at Ron, mortified and a little- just a little- upset, myself. It was the following weekend and he was silently erecting the crib we'd just purchased on our delayed shopping trip. His jaw was set and the minute we'd gotten back to my flat he'd set to work, not saying another word to me, taking pieces and parts away from me when I tried to help. He was stalwartly using his wand to erect the entire thing, as some sort of silent protest against my muggle methods. I felt awful.

We'd had the misfortune to overhear someone else in the store talking about my shopping trip the last weekend and who I'd been out and about with.

In my defense, I hadn't found time all week to tell Ron about my ill-thought out trip with Malfoy. I'd been busy enough and Merlin knew he'd certainly been busy- he and Harry were still working on that new case. The spell caster was proving hard to trace and I knew he was frustrated. In his defense, we had owled a few times and I certainly could have said something in a letter- but I hadn't wanted to, because I knew it would be better if we discussed it in person.

"Ron," I said timidly, "I'm so sorry about-"

One of the rungs fell out and Ron swore before picking it up, casting a dirty glance at me, and then turning back to his work. I could feel the tears building. Did he think this was easy, trying to balance time between my boyfriend and the other possible father? Did he think I was happy about having to spend time with Malfoy? I wasn't! I'd only gone out with him last Saturday because I'd felt sorry for him. Nothing more. Besides, he was the one who'd said he'd be so understanding. Ha. Not bloody likely, was it? I should have known better. On the one hand I had an arrogant bastard and on the other a sensitive, stubborn, pig-headed-

"I just wish you'd told me!" he finally exploded, setting down the pieces and turning to look at me, his brows drawn together.

"I didn't want to tell you in the mail!" I replied. "And when I tried to bring it up at lunch today, you were so excited about your news-"

"Hermione, you have to think what it looks like for me," he pleaded. "You can't say I'm your boyfriend and then go about dating Malfoy at the same time!"

"I'm not dating Malfoy, Ron," I said. "I'm dating you. All I did last Saturday was let him tag along because I felt sorry for him, alright? He looked pathetic and I just thought I ought to let him have a fair chance of being involved in the pregnancy, if that's what he wants."

"I fail to see the difference," Ron replied haughtily and turned back to the crib.

I frowned. "The difference is that I am not going to kiss or hug Draco Malfoy, or let him come into the healer's office with me, or pick out cribs-"

"That's exactly what he was doing last weekend," Ron said.

"Ugh! No, he was not! All he did last Saturday was carry my packages- he didn't pick out a single blanket or stuffie, or binky!"

Ron paused and turned his head towards me a little. "He didn't?"

"No," I reiterated. "And I certainly wasn't kissing him, or even holding hands! The most Draco Malfoy and I will ever be is acquaintances and officemates."

Ron's shoulders relaxed. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he began quietly, but I cut him off.

"No, Ron, don't apologize. I'm the one who's sorry. I should have told you- I shouldn't have invited him out in the first place, for that matter. I only thought of it because he asked me first, last week."

Ron turned and looked at me sharply. "He asked you?"

"Yes- just to get to know one another, I guess. I told him I wanted to think about it, but when I saw him Saturday, after you all had left-"

"He showed up at Mungo's?"

"Just outside, after I'd left. Had been in the area running an errand and he asked what I was doing there- I couldn't very well lie."

"No, I suppose not." Ron looked very thoughtful and I glanced at him suspiciously.

"What are you thinking?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just- it's interesting that right after Harry and I were called away, he was right there, to take you to lunch…"

I gaped. "Ron, you don't honestly think-"

"Why not? Look at what happened sixth year- we didn't believe Harry for a long time and look at how right he was. Malfoy is a slimy git. I don't expect he's changed that much- maybe just switched from Dark Arts to something else."

"Ron, don't be ridiculous…"

"Why shouldn't I? You're my girl and he's clearly up to something."

"Ron, really-"

"Alright, alright," he said. "I'll drop it. But I don't want you going on private dinners with him. I don't like it."

"You don't like it?" I retorted. "Do you think I like it? Lunch with him was terrible! I felt so awkward- ugh," I said again. "At any rate, what do you propose I do about involving him if I'm not to have meals with him?"

"Don't involve him," Ron said firmly. "I don't like it, him sniffing about you this way. Just because you had the misfortune to shag the bloody bastard. He's acting like that gives him some sort of right to your life, too. Well, it doesn't."

"What, don't see him at all? Or even bring him to appointments?"

"Do you want him at appointments?"

"No," I admitted. "Like I said, I only felt sorry for him-"

"Don't feel sorry for him, either," he recommended. "If he's feeling rather pathetic it's his just desserts, I say."

I wanted to laugh, Ron sounded so much like his sister or mother. Instead, I nodded solemnly. "Alright, Ron. I won't see Malfoy anymore. I'm sorry for not telling you about last weekend sooner, too. But I promise, you've absolutely nothing to worry about."

He grunted and turned back to the crib, giving his wand a swift flick. "Never thought I did," he said.

I did laugh at that. Ron didn't join in- he was still sulking about the entire situation, I thought. But after another few minutes he finished putting the crib together and gave it a few shakes.

"Sturdy," he said. "No parts were missing. Just let me put a sticking charm-" He waved his wand again and murmured the spell. I watched appreciatively, leaning back against the wall. Gone were the days when I'd doubted Ron's ability to accomplish something. His probationary status was over and he was officially a full-time Auror now, after all. It took more than brains to achieve that: it took courage, bravery and cunning. (All things I'd seen grow to maturity in the final war and the months after.)

My Ron was really quite brilliant, for all his goofy good looks and foot-in-mouth faux-pas. I kicked myself mentally. It would do me no good to go thinking of him as my Ron, even if we were dating. Especially since he might still change his mind about me and the baby. I rested my hand against my stomach and smiled softly. I truly hoped it would not come to that, but I'd promised to understand as best I could. Who would blame the proud, talented war-hero for leaving his trollop of a girlfriend?

Ron finished up and turned back to me. His expression changed as he saw my face and suddenly his arms were about me and he was kissing me as if his life depended on it. I was breathless when he pulled away.

"You're not allowed to think that way anymore, either," he murmured before kissing me again, gently.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, relishing the feel of his shoulders beneath my hands.

"That look on your face," he explained. "I've seen it so many times. I bet you don't even realize you're making it. It's your sad face," he said more quietly. "It's the face you make when you think something lovely isn't going to last long. Or when you think you've been an idiot, even though you're completely brilliant."

"I have been an idiot," I protested, but Ron put a finger up to my lips.

"About Malfoy, maybe. We've been over that. But about me? Never. I'm making my choice, Hermione."

"But, Ron," I began and he covered my lips again, swallowing any more protests I might have made.

I don't know how long we stood there, in the study I was turning into a nursery, but the sun was setting by the time we pulled apart and both our stomachs were growling again. Ron smiled down at me.

"It's sort of nice, having you pregnant. I don't think you've ever been so understanding about my love of food before," he said and I laughed. Then I smacked his arm. He winced, but laughed with me. The next thought left our lips at the same time.

"Custard," we agreed, and took to the stairs, still smiling.

The weekend successfully over and another work week begun, I sat at my desk feeling rather nervous, despite myself. I had sent a memo to Draco asking that he meet with me briefly to discuss our mutual…situation. Ron and I had agreed that if I wanted to give Draco reports on the baby, that would be fine, but anything beyond that was strictly not necessary. After all, if Ron had made his choice, then I had also made mine. I wanted to be with Ron and I didn't need anything else confusing the already messy situation.

Of course, my nerves didn't have anything to do with that week's issue of the Quibbler. True to her promise, Luna had made it that all-Veela, all the time, issue and picture of someone who might have been Draco Malfoy was on the cover, along with the caption, "What Veelas Do When Love Dies."

I'd laughed at first, paled at remembering that I had an appointment with said suspected Veela, and then laughed again in spite of my best intentions. It was too hilarious, really.

Draco didn't think so, by the look on his face when he stormed into my office.

"You had something to do with this," he railed.

"I didn't, I promise," I said, trying hard not to smile instinctively. "You know Luna-"

"I'll sue her for slander!"

"Oh, come on, Malfoy- it's not that bad. The picture barely looks like you…you can't even see its face."

He looked as if he'd like to say a great deal more, but he sat down with a huff instead and tossed the magazine in my trash bin.

"Those the goblin scrolls?" he asked finally, with a nod at my desk. I put my arms across them jealously.

"They are. But that's not why I asked you in."

He gave up trying to peer around the wide sleeves of my robes at the detailed scrolls and sat back.

"Well, what is it?" He looked at me sharply. "About the baby? Is everything-"

"Everything is fine," I said. "I actually wanted to- well, apologize, I suppose. You see, I really don't want…that is to say…" my voice trailed off a second time and I frowned. I pulled Ron's voice to memory. It's just Draco Malfoy, I told myself. You've told him off loads of times. Just because the baby might be his doesn't give him the right to harass me about it or butt in on my life.

"Well?" he asked and I looked up at him.

"I don't want to involve you, Malfoy," I said finally. "I don't mind giving you progress reports, here at work, but I don't see any reason for us to be friends, or have dinner, or anything like that."

He got very quiet. "I see," he murmured after a bit. "This your idea? Or Weasley's?"

"It's my idea," I said firmly. "Not that it's any of your business. I felt sorry for you last weekend, after hearing about Astoria, so that's why I asked you out. But it's not going to happen again. I'm very sorry. We have nothing in common and I don't feel comfortable seeing you privately."

"This about my family? My background?" he asked quietly and I paused. Was it? It might be, partly, but I couldn't help that. I had no idea why he'd want to hang around me, anyway. We'd never been friends, or even cordial, and I doubted we ever would, beyond what was required at work.

"I can't say," I said. "So much happened back then. That's not to say you're not a changed man, Malfoy. I just- I'm seeing someone, you understand? And baby or no, it's not okay for us to be out together. It's just…not done," I finished primly.

He sneered half-heartedly and stood up. "So, progress reports, is it? And what happens if it is mine?"

"We'll figure it out then," I insisted. "I'm not going to shut you out of this baby's life if you do turn out to be the father. But it's my life, too, until it's born-"

"And you want nothing to do with me. And what about three months ago, when you did want something to do with me?"

"That was a mistake on both our parts," I said. "And that's all."

I thought he would protest some more, but he simply pressed his lips together in a long, straight line and glared at the wall behind my head. Then he raised a single brow and exhaled slowly.

"Alright, Granger," he said. "If that's how you want it. I assume I may still see you here at work?"

"Of course," I replied. "If it's work related."

"But no lunches, no working dinners?"

I shook my head. "That would be quite unnecessary," I said. That same pathetic feeling I'd had about him a week ago returned in full force as he nodded, turned and left my office without another word. Ron was right, I told myself. Draco had a fine life, without me in it. He still had some friends who weren't in prison or dead, he had plenty of witches still lining up to date him, and he had a good job. His parents both still had their health. No, I did not need to feel sorry for him at all. I'd done quite the right thing.

A slight movement caught my eye and I glanced over to my waste bin, where the picture on the front of the Quibbler was moving about. I smirked. Perhaps someone should contact Witch Weekly and tell them to rename him a Most Eligible Veela, instead. I laughed aloud at the thought and waved my wand at the door, closing it firmly behind him. Then I pulled one of the scrolls over to me and unwound it carefully, working one inch at a time. Visions of a Veela-Draco continued to dance in my head.

My spirits restored, I was pleased that by the end of the day I'd gone over my translation and analysis goal by a full twenty inches.