I do not own Harry Potter at all and make no money off this fic. All rights to J.K. Rowling and co.

Hermione was just kicking off her slippers and sliding under the covers of her bed when her buzzer sounded again, for what she fervently hoped was the last time that night. It had been long day, she was tired all the time now and she was lucky if she made it through an entire night without getting sick. With a growl and a sigh, she flipped the covers back and swung her feet back over to the floor. The buzzer went off again twice more before she reached the door and she was practically seething by the time she answered it.

"Hello?" she asked. "Who is it this time?"

"Er, it's me, Hermione," came Harry's voice. "I need to talk to you."

Hermione chewed on her lip a bit, debating what to do. She really didn't feel like talking to Harry about all this at the moment. She knew he would be upset and demand answers and would probably never buy the Draco story. Crap. But she also probably couldn't just send him away, either, without leaving him even more upset with her. And Harry needed her, hadn't Snape and Dumbledore both said that? So she couldn't risk him getting mad and staying mad at her.

With another sigh she buzzed him up without saying another word. She could hear him pounding up the stairs and opened her door to prevent him running headlong into it. He paused at the landing and stared at her hard. She flushed and drew her robe tighter around her, gesturing for him to come in.

"Well?" she muttered. "Are you coming in or not?"

Harry finally looked away, his cheeks flushing to match hers, and walked inside. He stood looking about himself, as if unsure of what he should do now that she'd let him in.

"Sit down, Harry," Hermione sighed, rubbing her eyes and taking a seat herself. He looked at her again and did as he was told, though he sat at the edge of the chair and seemed extremely uncomfortable.

"Why did you move out of the tower, Hermione?" he finally asked after what felt like minutes.

Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes and covered a yawn. "Because I had to, Harry. Look, I'm really sorry you found out the way you did, but they wanted me to keep it a secret-"

"So it's true? You're actually pregnant? By Malfoy?"

He sounded so shocked and hurt that Hermione couldn't bear to look him in the face for several seconds. She was filled with conflicting emotions- hurt that she couldn't tell Harry the truth and anger that he seemed so ready to accept the lie that was being told. She wanted desperately to tell him the truth, to cry about Ron and get frustrated about Draco and talk everything over with him, like she usually would've…or at least, like he would've done with her, had their situations been reversed.

She finally lifted her eyes to his and crossed her arms. "I'm sorry, Harry. I wanted to tell you, but Dumbledore and the others…they just want to make sure I'm protected." She kept talking; she didn't see why she couldn't at least half explain things…it would make things easier for Harry to accept, she felt sure of that. "It's really the best thing, for Draco to be the dad. His family is bound to protect me now, with a blood tie and all."

Harry looked disbelieving. "When has his family ever given the impression they would protect half bloods or the muggle born?"

"It's a code- since he-" she paused, knowing she daren't tell Harry the truth about Draco's allegiance. "Well, since his dad is a Death Eater, there's a code that says all children and, er, grandchildren are protected. But I didn't mean for this to happen, Harry, you have to believe that!"

Harry seemed a little mollified at that and stood up to come and sit next to her. "I still don't trust him."

"You don't have to."

"If he does anything else, or lets anything happen to you-"

"I know, Harry."

Harry put his arm around Hermione and gave her a quick hug. "And you swear you're not in love with him or brainwashed or any rubbish like that?"

Hermione growled and pulled away, although she blushed readily enough at the thought of being in love with Malfoy. She brought her hands to her cheeks and glared at Harry for even bringing up such a- well, ridiculous idea. "Harry, even your god father could see how smart I was. Do you think I would ever join Voldemort? And as for your other question, I refuse to dignify it with an answer. Ridiculous," she reiterated to herself.

Harry's face flushed and he mumbled several apologies in succession, putting his arm about her once more. "I'm sorry. I know, you're right. It's just so hard to believe…"

"What? That Malfoy would sleep with me? That's it, isn't it? That's what everyone is saying behind my back. I bet that's what Ron said, isn't it?" Hermione found herself pulling away again and growing angrier.

Harry seemed surprised and scooted away from the clearly upset Hermione. "No- that's not what Ron said, at all. I mean, he made the same vague threats I did, but other than that he really seems to want you to be happy. Not that either one of us is really happy about the Malfoy bit, but we want to support you, no matter what. Sure, some of the others were talking about him and you, but when Lavender tried to say something about you not being Malfoy's type, Ron got really upset and defended you."

It was Hermione's turn to be surprised. "He did?"

"Yeah- in fact, he kind of got on Lavender's nerves."

"He did?" Hermione repeated stupidly.

Harry nodded. "He sort of started, well, gushing about you." Harry seemed a little embarrassed to be outing his friend's behavior, but didn't see too much of a problem talking Ron up to Hermione. After all, he did want to support her choices, but if he could steer her away from Malfoy, that was alright in his book. Ginny would disenchant him of that notion in the next few weeks, but for now Harry was blissfully ignorant of Ron's standing as a moron, other than his friend's normal idiotic behavior.

Hermione blushed again and looked away. "Well. That wasn't very nice to Lavender, was it?"

"I suppose not. But between you and me, I'm pretty sure Ron wants to break up with her."

"Why?" Hermione turned on him again, suddenly, eyes wide and frightened. "Why would he do that? They're attached at the bloody hip-"

"I dunno, he's tired of going out with her, I guess. He only really went out with her in the first place because he felt left behind by us- you know, I dated Cho and you had Krum-"

"I was barely fifteen! Ron could have asked me, instead of Lavender Brown. Krum meant nothing to me- I mean, he was a good friend and it was very flattering, but Ron knew I liked him more!"

"To be fair, Hermione, no, he didn't."

"To be fair to me, you boys are complete twats and why can't you grow up at the same time us girls do?" Hermione was visibly upset again and, though Harry knew very little about babies and even less about pregnancy, he was smart enough to know that getting unnecessarily upset was not good for either. He patted her on the shoulder and began to murmur apologies. Hermione harrumphed several times, but seemed to calm down.

"So Ron wants to break up with Lavender, you think because he wants to go out with me?" Hermione asked after a few minutes had passed. Harry frowned, thinking what the best way to answer her question was: he didn't really know the real answer, could only guess, so saying anything at all seemed like a hazard. He grunted instead and continued to pat her shoulder. Hermione shuddered, leaned against him again, and sighed.

"Just when it's too bloody late. Great."

"Why does it have to be too late?"

Hermione sighed again. "It just is, ok? Let's stop talking about it. I'm just getting depressed. Besides, we have classes and homework to worry about and I need sleep."

Harry couldn't argue with any of those things, though he did wish they could talk longer; but he supposed his questions about Ginny and whether she flew for the other team or not would have to wait. So, with several more awkward hugs and a tearful good bye on Hermione's part, Harry left, the invisibility cloak safely hiding him once again.

Hermione watched him go, relieved, confused, and ready for bed, more than ever. With a determined frown upon her face, she cast a silencing charm on her buzzer and finally crawled back under the covers of her bed. Sleep descended, bringing some of the most pleasant dreams she'd had since the pregnancy had begun…and also some of the most frightening.

Draco's sleep was no less disturbed than Hermione's that night. He had one dream after another filled with visions of Mr. Granger coming after him with a cricket paddle, then dental tools, and finally a screaming, crying baby. It didn't make the dream any less of a nightmare when he realized the baby had flaming red hair. Still, when he wasn't dreaming of Mr. Granger (or Voldemort, who put in no less than seven appearances), his subconscious played with more pleasant images: Hermione leaning over a cauldron, Hermione nibbling her hair while reading, Hermione smiling shyly at him…which were all things, of course, that he'd seen as early as his first year, but only noticed in the last two weeks. Not that she'd smiled at him since first year. No, the most he'd gotten after behaving so ill towards her was a roll of the eyes- and he was still getting plenty of those. So even as he was seeing her in his dreams, the images were punctuated with frowns and sighs the size of Stonehenge.

Needless to say, he didn't get a lot of sleep that night. When he wasn't waking up screaming at Mr. Granger or Voldemort, he was waking up to his own muffled moans of arousal. And from what? Seeing Hermione bending over a cauldron? What the hell was wrong with him? Shouldn't he be more disturbed by the fact that he was switching sides and lying to the dark lord than by his own dreams of a clever witch? Since when had intelligence turned him on?

And never mind that she was intelligent- she was pregnant with another man's child! True, he'd been trying to slip more into the role of proud papa- embracing their roles was the only way to convince anyone- but she showed absolutely no signs of return devotion. Not that he was devoted to her- gods. Was the word affection? But how could he possibly hold any fondness for her? When she wasn't ignoring or lecturing him during their tête-à-têtes, she was making big, weepy, cow eyes at the Weasel. Why, he had no idea. Hadn't the brute willingly agreed to set her aside to fate as a Death Eater's paramour? Merlin.

Draco sighed for the tenth time that night, rolled over, and sat up. He checked the time as quietly as possible and groaned. It wasn't even two in the morning and he was wide awake with no signs of going to bed. His mind was racing with all that had been going on lately and his usual course of calming it didn't seem prudent in lieu of his agreement with Hermione. Not that Pansy or any of the other Slytherin girls would have minded helping him "cheat" on Hermione, he was certain.

That left one person for him to talk to. With a determined grimace, Draco got out of bed and shrugged into his robes. Then he left his room and headed down the stairs. He had to get out of the dormitory to clear his mind…not that he was going for fresh air.

He really, really hoped that Snape would be kind at finding one of his students banging on his door at two in the morning. Also, that Snape's proclivities did not run to young men. A visit in the middle of the night would definitely make things awkward, then.

Harry met Ron as he walked back into the Gryffindor common room. He'd gone to his room for the cloak right after practice got out, and from there straight to Hermione's; but he hadn't bothered to tell Ron. He figured Ron, as kind as he was being about Hermione's situation at the moment, probably didn't want to spend too much extra time around her- at least for a little while. Ron quickly dispelled that idea.

"Where were you, mate? I thought you were right behind us when Lav started to drag me towards the library, but then I couldn't find you anywhere."

"Er," said Harry.

Ron narrowed his eyes. "Is it that fifth year Hufflepuff that's been watching practice lately? You caught a snog with her, didn't you?"

"Not quite," Harry replied.

"Well where were you, then? Oh- oh, no. Are you still seething about that howler the other night? You didn't try to track down Malfoy, did you?"

Harry shifted from foot to foot and shook his head again. "No, Ron. Besides, as much as I hate the bloke I just sort of promised Hermione that I wouldn't do anything stupid. And that she has my support, no matter how much I can't stand that arse."

Ron was quiet for a few minutes, watching Harry and looking as if he wasn't sure what to say. Harry sighed.

"See? This is why I didn't want to say anything. I know you're still upset about it and I figured-"

"No, that's not it, Harry," Ron interrupted him. "I sort of went to see her the other night, too- with Ginny." Harry stared at him open mouthed and Ron pushed ahead. "I promised her the same thing."

Harry was dumbfounded. He knew his friend was more than capable of intelligent, compassionate behavior, but he'd never seen Ron behaving so maturely before. He wondered briefly what Ron had up his sleeve, decided it really didn't matter since he still didn't like or trust Malfoy, and smiled broadly.

"So you're friends again?"

Ron nodded glumly. "Yeah. Friends."

"Don't be that way about it, Ron. You know she's only owned up to it for her safety. And she doesn't seem totally thrilled about what happened with Malfoy."

Ron perked up a bit at that. "Really? What did she say?"

"Come on, let's sit down with some homework. We can discuss it over Potions. As long as she's not going to be around as much to help with our studies the least we can do is pretend to pay attention to them ourselves."

"Speak for yourself," Ron snorted. "Lavender is constantly dragging me to the library these days. Dunno why. I think she thinks I have a Hermione complex or something."

Harry raised an eyebrow at his friend as they climbed the staircase to the boys' rooms. "But Ron," he smirked, "you do."

Ron sent Harry a murderous glance, but followed him up to their room to collect their books anyhow. There was no point arguing the facts, after all. He had a feeling that in the coming months, despite the current cease fire, there would be enough arguments to last the three of them a very long time, indeed.