Hermione Granger glanced down at her large body. She was almost 9 months pregnant, and had quite a lot to show for it. An over-sized belly, swollen feet, aching back, mood swings that induced whiplash to all that endured them, and breasts that had almost tripled in size. She waddled into her kitchen to prepare a meal for her and the little one inside of her stomach. She began to think of all of the potentially Hermione Granger glanced down at her large body. She was almost 9 months pregnant, and had quite a lot to show for it. An oversized belly, swollen feet, aching back, mood swings that induced whiplash to all that endured them, and breasts that had almost tripled in size. She waddled into her kitchen to prepare a meal for her and the little one inside of her stomach. She began to think of all of the potentially detrimental things she had done shortly after finding out she was pregnant. From the hard drug usage to the random sexual encounters of the anonymous type. One particular event stood out in her mind.
Music blaring, lights flashing, bodies moving, voices hushed by intoxication, sweat dripping, temperature rising. Eyes red and glazed over by a few too many drinks and a few too many thick lines of cocaine done off of a dirty bathroom county in a club, Hermione Granger was grinding against a man she had known since 3 songs ago. A double shot of whiskey on the rocks threatening to spell with each in sync motion the two strangers made against each other in one hand, and the back of a strange man's head in the other, she was going out for one of the last few times before settling down to be a puffy, pregnant mother. She felt eyes drilling into her exposed back and turned her head a bit. Brown eyes locked on silver, and she felt her stomach lurch and her heart drop. Although there was a shadow cast upon most of him, Hermione recognized it to be the man she had but 3 weeks ago had a dreadful encounter with. The man she was grinding with began to slid his hands up and down her sides and whisper provocative things into her ear. She left a red lipstick mark on his neck and walked away from him.
She knew people were watching her. How could they not? At 5'4" and 115 pounds of hardly enough more than a chest, she was bound to get attention. Especially tonight, with eyelashes plastered with mascara and curled to perfection, red lipstick across pouty lips, glitter on the top of perky breasts and bedroom eyes. She chose to dress somewhat trampish for that night, wearing a silver halter dress with a front slouch that had to be taped in certain places to keep from exposing all of her, though it showed a heavy amount of cleavage and the neckline went down her belly button. The skirt went mid thigh, and to top it off, she wore black patent leather 6 inch pumps. She was dressed to tease, and by the looks of the men that surrounded her, she was doing just that. But she had her eyes locked on one man in particular. From the look on his face, he didn't realize who she was. She didn't say a word, and just turned to start grinding on him, loose auburn curls dancing across her mid back. She slowly backed up, before she felt him hit the wall behind him. She smiled to herself and turned to face him.
His eyes grew wide and he looked as though he wanted to speak, yet he was unable to, far too interested in her body to say much at all. As soon as he saw the look in her eyes, his filled with something she couldn't describe even if she wanted to. It was fear, shock, desire, anger. All of the things she had seen in her flat that night rolled into one. She slowly guided her knee up his thigh, pressing lightly against his groan. She smiled softly and breathed low into his neck. "I'm not sure how yet, but you will pay for you did to me, Draco Malfoy. You will feel every ounce of pain, anger, frustration, depression and resentment I feel every day. I hope I was a good fuck at least." And with that, she turned on her heel and walked away from him. He grabbed her wrist, hard and pulled her back against him. He turned quickly so she was pinned to the wall, his eyes scanning her face, but just for a moment before his lips crashed on to hers. She scoffed and pushed him back. It took everything in her power to not punch him in the nose, an action she had a lot of practice with from when they went to school together. She tsked at him and tried to walk away again. But, once again, he grabbed her and pushed her back against the wall.
"Mudblood, you don't seem to remember this about me but, princess." He began to grind his hips hard against hers. "Pain is foreplay to me." He whispered to her, as if reading her mind and body language enough to know exactly what she wanted to do. She groaned in disgust and he continued to grind. She felt him go from flaccid to solid in less than a minute, and knew what was going to happen. However, this time, she was going to let it happen, and try her best to enjoy it. He looped an arm around her waist and led her to the backroom of the club. The only reason he was allowed back there was because he was the biggest contributor. The back room was lit with black light and decorated with white and neon orange furniture. She didn't hit him, or fight him as he laid her down onto a bright orange divan. She didn't flinch away from his touch as he pushed up her skirt. She didn't beg for him to stop as he rubbed her through her panties. She didn't cry as he entered her. She did what she was told, as she had with the last time. She didn't enjoy it like she had hoped she would, but it wasn't rape anymore, so she allowed herself to make noises of pleasure and ecstasy. As he moved in and out of her, she felt him tense up with every sound she made, the moans and sighs of being enthralled within a sexual encounter of the consensual persuasion. He had nearly forgotten what that sounded like.
Before too long, he was done and withdrew himself. He looked at her in the blacklight. She looked tan and her dress glowed. For a moment, he swore he was looking at an angel, before remembering something very vital to his encounters with her. He was going to emotionally, mentally, physically and spiritually break her, no matter what it took.
Hermione screamed in pain as the doctor told her to push. She had denied to shots and pain-killers, though now she entire body was screaming at her for making that decision. She was 14 hours into labor with her daughter. The daughter given to her by the man who stole her innocence. The daughter that saved her life. That daughter that was going to be someone for Hermione to love unconditionally. She knew she loved the child the moment she told the Healers at St. Mungo's that she was keeping her. She tried hard not to cry, but tears and sweat rolled down her face, sweat that plastered her fringe to her forehead and stung her eyes. The man delivering the child was saying something, but all Hermione could hear was pain and herself screaming. She assumed the man said something about one more big one, so she pushed as hard as she could. All of the months of self-loathing and resentment faded as she heard her baby cry for the first time. The doctor cut the cord and wiped some of the blood off of her. He wrapped her in a pink blanket and handed her to Hermione. She swore she saw God as she looked at the perfect child. Ten perfect finger, ten perfect toes, two perfect eyes, two perfect ears, two perfect arms and legs, a perfect nose and a perfect mouth. The child was beautiful, and was Hermione's to love and care for.
"Alright then, ma'am. What would you like us to put down on the birth certificate for her name and her dad's name?" One of the nurses asked, not knowing the story behind the child's conception. How could she? All she did was help deliver the baby, not follow it's mother around for the last 9 months.
"Erika Rose Granger. That's her name. Her father? Draco Abraxas Malfoy." The nurse looked as though she had been burned when that name was spoken. She shrugged it off and wrote it all down to take to the printing room. She walked out of the room, as did the doctor, to give the new mother time to bond with her daughter. Hermione gently touched her hand, which Erika was quick to grab as tightly as she could. She was still crying, but it was getting softer, before turning to a whimper. Could you blame her? Nine months in a warm, dark place, only to come out into cold and brightness. Hermione smiled softly and kissed the newborn's forehead.
Before too long, a nurse came in and said she had to run tests on the baby, and that the father had been notified and would be arriving shortly by Floo. Hermione's eyes went wide when the woman said Draco had been told about the birth. She played it off well, and handed over Erika to the young woman, before settling back down into the hospital bed. She was exhausted. The last thing she needed or wanted was an explosive confrontation with Draco. But she waited patiently in the room alone. Before too long, he stormed into the room and did the usual Malfoy thing; spoken in a tone that made it obvious he wanted to yell. He kept his eyes locked on her's the entire time.
"So what, then, Granger? You just weren't going to tell me about our child?" He choked on the word our, refusing to share anything with someone like her, a filthy, know it all Mudblood. He stepped closer to her, closing the door behind him, whispering an incantation to lock and sound-proof the door. He sat in a chair alll but 3 feet from the bed and just watched her.
"What did you want me to say? Hey, Draco, after you raped me in my flat, I got knocked up with the spawn of Satan." She said, nearly as calm as he had been speaking to her. He grimaced as she spoke.
"Two things, Granger. Don't call me by my first name. It's Mr. Malfoy to you, Mudblood. Secondly, I didn't rape you. I taught you a lesson. Don't let people in your home if you don't know what their intentions may be. You're a right fool for thinking I was there for just a friendly little visit. I-" She cut him off, angry that he did not remember that night as well as she did.
"I didn't let you in, you stupid ferret. You forced your way into my house, before you forced yourself upon me. We can play the blame game all night. All that matters is I just gave birth to a child, your child. Whether you like it or not, Erika Rose is half yours." She noticed the small smirk creeping across his face.
"No, Hermione. You're wrong. She isn't half mine. She's all mine. Who do you tink they'll listen to in court? The crazy bitch who tried to off herself or the rich businessman with no form of a criminal record or anything of the likes? You're so dense sometimes it's cute." He smirked again and stood. He stepped closer to her and brushed hair off of her forehead. "You have two choices, princess. Either you abandon your old life and start one with me to raise the thing right, or you give up all parental rights to me." She had to once again use all of her might not to hurt him, and this time, he didn't seem to pick it up. She sat there for a moment and thought. He chuckled. "You idiot. You don't have to choose right now. You have 6 hours before I come and take her to make your decision. I'll be seeing you later." He muttered the countercurse for the spell he had put on the door and walked out, turning to wink at her slightly.
As he walked down the hall to the nursery, he stopped to think outloud. "Did I really just invite that...that thing to come live at my house with me? Merlin's beard, I must be more drunk than I thought..." He arrived at the window that had the babies on display. Without having to look hard, he found her. And he knew right then and there that it was his child. She had pale skin, platnium blonde hair and no doubt, if her eyes would have opened, he'd have seen his own looking right back at him. He fell to his knees and took a moment to take everything into account. He had a daughter...
Draco sat in the hallway, holding his daughter for the first time, though he wasn't thinking of Erika. His thoughts were occupied by the little one's mum. He couldn't quite figure out what was going on. He raped her...He knew he raped her, yet denied it. He was trying to convince himself more than her. He didn't want to believe he was really a monster like him. He didn't take into account the dozens of other women he forced himself upon. None of them mattered to him. He had hurt Hermione...one of the only girls he even cared to try to understand or even tolerate for longer than a snog or a shag. He just wanted her so damn bad he couldn't control himself. 'There you go, trying to convince yourself again. You got trashed, went to her flat and forced her to have sex with you. It was her first time. You stole her virginity from her. You're exactly like your father...' He pushed the thoughts aside and looked at his daughter. She opened her eyes for the first time and he was her eyes. Silver-grey, with flecks of golden brown. She was perfect.
He stood carefully, keeping his hands on her the whole time, making sure not to drop her. A nurse smiled flirtatiously at him and he shot her a dirty look. "In case you didn't notice, I'm holding my kid. Obviously, I'm spoken for." The words escaped his lips before he was given a moment to ponder them. He wasn't taken. And the kid was only his biologically. And yet, he was so protective over her, like any father would be over their daughter. He paced back to Hermione's hospital room and sat in the chair next to her bed again. It had been six hours and it was time for her to make her call.
"I guess I'll be living with you then, Mr. Malfoy?" She addressed him as he had previously told her to. He smiled softly to himself and put his serious face back on. He nodded and was half tempted to shake her hand. He was always business, all the time. That was how his father had raised him. He handed Hermione the baby and smiled proudly to himself. He had gained a child and a woman to do...well, the things women are supposed to; cooking, cleaning, and such like that. He had over a dozen house elves but they weren't women. Well, Notika was, but she didn't count. He was a sexist, and he didn't know it yet, but Hermione was going to break him of that habit, and quickly.
For a moment, Hermione's hatred for the blond boy had faded completely. She felt as though Erika had a real family, two loving parents who were going to dote upon her more than she'd know what to do with. Draco looked at Hermione and caught himself fixated on her smile. He had no idea she had such strength. To be a rape victim, give birth to a child conceived through rape, yet still see light in the world. Draco was jealous of something, for the first time since he was younger. His father beat the coveting side of him away when he was very young. But he was jealous of her. She could see past all of the hell she had been through and still see something wonderful. Draco wanted that, more than anything. He hoped Hermione and Erika living with him would bring satisfaction like that.
"Alright then, Hermione. I'll send for your things while you stay here, and please, call me Draco. Mr. Malfoy is too formal, all things considered." With just that statement alone, Hermione began to see Draco in a new light. She smiled softly, and continued to play with Erika's hands and feet, making exaggerated eating noises, putting the infant's small hand by her mouth. She was content in knowing she had brought something so beautiful into a world that was so ugly. She glanced at Draco, and saw him watching her interact with their daughter. He had a smile across his face instead of the usual Malfoy smirk he had become so known for. He reached for Erika, and Hermione willingly gave the father his child. She was getting closer to forgetting how it was she was made in the first place, and instead thinking of what life would be like as a Malfoy. She'd be dressed in the finest clothes, living in the manor with Draco, Erika and the house elves.
Draco admired his daughter before saying quietly, "I'll never let anyone hurt you...I promise, Erika. I'm here to protect you from all of that. The way my dad never protected me..." He kissed Erika's forehead softly and continued to admire her already lovely face. Only a few hours old, but he knew she was going to be gorgeous as she got older. He played with her hands the way Hermione had. Hermione leaned back in the bed and closed her eyes before drifting into a deep sleep, one she needed after all that work. Draco stayed awake nearly the whole night, admiring and loving his newborn daughter. He couldn't help it. He was already a father. He was terrified, elated, nervous and yet, completely prepared. He had emotions crashing over him like a tsunami but didn't seem fazed in the slightest. The only thing one would be able to tell by looking at him was that he was thrilled with the joys of becoming a new father. Whether or not those joys were going to stay put or scurry off once it came to early morning wake-ups for food, or a diaper change, he didn't know. All he knew was that he had a perfect daughter that would never have to see the world the way he was forced to as a child. She was going to have the ideal childhood, or the best Draco could readily provide her with.