I've been getting better about remembering to bring my lunch with me to work. Today, someone ate that lunch. So not cool, but maybe it's for the best after the way I pigged out this weekend. I'll just go to town on the basket of candy I keep on my desk. Oh yeah, I eat healthy.

Chapter 3
"Granger?" he asked when he finally found his voice.

She seemed to debate remaining where she was and moving closer. If he was still the 18 year old boy who hated her, then her best bet was keeping her distance. "Hi," she replied in a small voice.

"I married Granger?" he asked Jensen, outraged by this turn of events. "Of all the useless little facts you've been trying to fill my head with for the last week, you fail to mention that I'm married to someone I hate?"

The blonde looked back and forth between the couple, dumbfounded by this outburst. "Hermione said things had gotten better between the two of you after the war," she said.

"She tried to kill me!" he shouted.

Jensen's head whipped around to the flabbergasted brunette. "Is that true?" she asked as calmly as possible.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I stopped Ron from trying to kill him before all hell broke loose in the Room of Requirement," she replied, her voice not yet much higher than a whisper. "He stopped his friends from killing me. There was no way I was going to kill him."

Draco clutched his head. "Liar!"

"I...no...I swear," she stuttered, her tears coming back with renewed force. She sniffed once and searched for the doorknob behind her. "I'll go." And before either one could protest, Hermione left Draco's room. Without a single glance back, she Apparated home.

"Well, it's a miracle you didn't splinch yourself," Blaise Zabini greeted her when she materialized in her living room. Gentle sobs were her only response as she took the stairs to the second floor. When Blaise joined her, she was sitting on the floor of what was to be the nursery. "What happened?" he asked, taking a seat beside her.

"He hates me," she whispered. "Whatever the two of you did, it's turned him against me. How do I explain this to our daughter? How do I tell her that her father might not come back?"

"Maybe she doesn't have to know," Blaise replied naively.

Hermione scowled. "Blaise, she's old enough and smart enough to realize when something isn't right," she said. "He's all she's asked about this past month."

"Does she know he's awake?" Blaise asked, glancing behind him to make sure they had no unwanted company.

She shook her head. "After finding out his memories were gone, I didn't want her to be upset that he didn't remember her," she answered. "And now with these new, I don't know, memories, I definitely don't want him around her."

"Especially with another baby on the way," he added supportively. He rose from the floor and held out his hands to help her to her feet.

Hermione nodded as she looked around the half finished room. Several different paint colors striped the walls as they had yet to decide on a color. The crib was in need of some minor repair after their daughter, Anastasia, had taken a few crayons to the wood. There were boxes of unopened, unassembled furniture and stacks of baby clothing and bedding that needed to be put away. In four months, Hermione would give birth with or without her husband.

Blaise noticed the way her brown eyes scanned the room as she assessed the work that still needed to be done. He walked over to the wall near the door and examined the different colors Draco had painted there for her approval. "Do you know if it's a boy or a girl yet?" he asked.

"We planned to be surprised," she replied. "Draco thinks it'll be a boy this time though. He was right about Ana, so he might be right this time. I was thinking about using the light blue in here. It was Draco's favorite too. He was going to paint it that day, but then-"

But then an experiment had gone wrong, and Draco landed in a coma, Blaise thought. He had been in the lab with Draco that fateful day. He had seen his friend's potion backfire, and feared he was dead. In the days after the accident, Blaise had begun dividing his time between work at the Ministry, visiting Draco, and sleeping on Hermione's sofa. A sense of guilt had clung to him the moment Draco was rendered unconscious. And it was that guilt that kept him returning to the Malfoys' home day after day.

Hermione had been grateful. Neither she nor Draco had parents who chose to be involved in their lives. Arthur and Molly Weasley had welcomed Draco into their family despite decades of tension between the two families. They were loving parents to their own large family, and a few more additions never bothered them. But Molly was an overbearing woman at the best of times. When news of Draco's accident spread, Molly demanded that Hermione and Anastasia move into the Burrow. And when Hermione objected to separating her child from her home, Molly insisted that she come stay with them.

Then Blaise stepped in. As Draco's best friend and Anastasia's godfather, he felt a certain duty to take care of his friend's family. He was more than happy to help around the house. While Hermione took care of Anastasia, Blaise often cooked dinner or cleaned. He was there to fill in where Draco no longer could. His calm demeanor was a welcome relief after days spent with the Weasley family.

"I can do it," he volunteered.

A door across the hall opened and Hermione spotted her two year old daughter emerge with bedraggled brown curls and sleepy gray eyes. She wandered into the nursery and extended her arms to Blaise as a silent question to pick her up. He happily obliged and held her close as she woke up. "Mama see Daddy today?" she asked through a yawn.

"No," Hermione lied. "He was still sleeping when I went to visit."

"Him home soon?" Ana wondered, focusing her gray eyes on her mother.

Despite the pain in her chest, Hermione forced herself to smile. "Soon, baby," she promised.

"Before the baby?" she pushed, innocently fingering the top button of Blaise's shirt.

Hermione looked to Blaise, at a loss for words. He smiled first at her, then the little girl in his arms. "If he doesn't, it looks like I've got a nursery to get to work on," he joked, hoping to lighten the mood.

Ana shook her head and stared at her mother. "But I want my daddy."