A/N: Okay, just to answer a quick question that was asked about who knows about what happened to Hermione. First; Ginny and Pansy are the only ones who know the whole story, except for who raped her. Draco suspects that she's been raped, and Blaise, Theo, Neville, and Luna all are in the dark. Now read this chapter and either love me or hate me. I think I might have pushed it a little too far too soon. I'm a little unsure about it. While I wished to get this up sooner, I had another HG/DM story in mind and it is now up and running. So if you want to check it out... I hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you all for the reviews! I truly love you all! You are all amazing!

Chapter 15

Hermione didn't know how to feel, exactly. Angry. Confused. Maybe, grateful. Possibly, befuddled. One thing she did know was that she hadn't expected to be wringing her hands at the bedside of Draco Malfoy while Madam Pomfrey swished her wand about him. Hermione was more than alarmed when Malfoy stepped forward and claimed the baby as his own. She wasn't going to lie, her mouth had hung open in staggering, surprise. She felt positively stupefied.

Harry's reaction had been rather barbaric. Of course, he would take out his wand before any of them could comprehend his actions and curse Malfoy with painful boils all over his body. And of course, Ginny would retaliate with a bat-bogey hex. And Blaise would disarm Ron before the male Weasley could cause anymore damage.

While Harry and Ron were in no need of medical assistance it was plain as day that Malfoy was. Sure, she'd heard him whine about being injured in the past years, laying it on extra thick for the girls, but this time wasn't like those. Malfoy had cursed up a storm, using words that made even Luna blush and creating a couple that Hermione had never even heard. Talking about Merlin's balls and such, he must have been in dire pain, the agony clear across his face.

Hermione had been the one to escort Malfoy to the Hospital wing, telling the others to stay. Really, she didn't care what they did as long as they didn't follow. Because she needed answers and felt she'd get them sooner without an audience.

She waited while Madam Pomfrey huffed over her patient, muttering something about teenage hormones and too much testosterone. She made him swallow down two potions, both of which had to have tasted rather foal, if his expression was anything to go by. When the Medi-witch was finally finished, she tutted and then disappeared to her office with a sharp turn. Obviously not carrying for this turn of events.

The silence was stifling, especially with such a large empty room. No other patients in sight. The beds bare and the sheets neat and straight as a pin.

She turned her head to look at him, completely at a loss for words. But, she knew she needed to say something. "What, exactly, were you thinking?" she asked looking passed the large, reddish boils protruding all over his face, and his bangs so she could see those eyes of his. "Hm? Do you know what you've done? The danger you've put yourself in?"

"I've been in danger my whole life," while Hermione would have usually laughed or rolled her eyes over something like that, his tone was so serious she couldn't even crack a smile outside or in. "Claiming it as my own is a lot safer for you, then letting it hang in the bloody air and allowing the fucking asshole outside these walls get word of it. Do you know what would happen to you? What they would do to you?"

"How do you-" Hermione couldn't help sounding completely affronted, even with her breathy tone. She had no illusions as to who the 'asshole' or 'they' were.

Malfoy shrugged his shoulders and looked at her sadly. "I was there when Snape brought you. I'm the one who ran you here from the grounds. I saw all the blood," he also overheard some things, but wasn't going to announce that. The image of her seemingly lifeless body in Snape's arms stopped him from going any further there. "When you started getting sick, I guess I just assumed... And then that bitch, Vane said, well..." he trailed off tiredly, and laid back against the pillows with a hiss. His robes rubbing wrongly against his skin from the movement.

While Hermione remembered in great detail how her parents were murdered and what he had done to her, she could never recall Snape saving her. Maybe the pain had dulled her senses by then, maybe she had been far too gone and unconscious that her memory just couldn't recollect. But she'd been told from the very beginning who had saved her and she had yet to thank the man.

She felt the trickle of saline under her eyes and she quickly wiped the droplets away with the back of her hand. "So many people have put their lives before mine. My parents, Professor Snape, you... others," she shook her head. "I never asked you to do this. I know you don't like me, we're not friends, remember? So, you don't have to risk your life for me and my- problem."

"It's already done, Granger," he told her, sounding somewhat exasperated. Biting her already worried lip as she looked over to see him resting, eyes closed and hands folded over his stomach. "We weren't alone on the grounds. Words gone round by now, and unless you make a public statement about the kid not being mine, then I have no problem playing daddy."

His snarky tone nearly made her laugh if it weren't for the seriousness of the situation and she almost slapped his arm, only to remember the boils. After a long silence Malfoy fell asleep and Hermione settled back into the chair. Transfiguring another bed into a foot stool, so she could put her feet up.

She really didn't know what to do about any of this. She'd been healing slowly, but everything was still such a mess, and now this with Malfoy. Why was life so hard? Why did it keep throwing obstacles her way? She could only leap so high over them, soon enough she wouldn't be able to get passed them any longer. Looking at Malfoy now, she sighed. Could she let him take up such a responsibility? In her book it wasn't right. It was dangerous. Before now she hadn't quite thought over the liabilities. If word did reach Voldemort and his Death Eaters, they could easily come after her. Getting to her, however, would be more difficult. That was if he truly wanted her and his Dark Lord agreed to it. And while Malfoy had proved to be trusted as additional protection, what if their folly came to light, what then? And what about Malfoy's father?

Hermione knew of Theo and Pansy's stories. She knew that all four Slytherin's had been under the Imperius. Theo's torture had been horrific and much more terrifying then her own. Pansy had just nearly escaped being traded to Voldemort for her parents clemency 'whenever the Dark Lord ruled'. Blaise had only been under the curse, but that didn't mean it was any less atrocious, and that was evident whenever his mother was brought up, which was rare. But Malfoy. His story was an enigma. Never told, never mentioned. Pansy didn't even hint towards what he had gone through and Hermione didn't know whether or not to ask.

She fell asleep there, assaulted by all of her thoughts and with a decision set and ready for when she awoke.

/-/-/-/

Draco was the first to wake and when he did, he felt rather refreshed. Looking down at his hands, he saw the boils were gone. He glanced down his shirt and sure enough those agonizing blemishes were all clear, leaving behind nothing but his pale skin. He had a moments thought of strangling Potter, before he heard the softest of sounds to his left. Turning, he was surprised to find Granger there, asleep with her feet propped up.

The small wheeze from the back of her throat had his lips quirking into a fraction of a smile as he looked her over. It was dark out, but she still wore the clothes she had on down by the lake. Baggy jeans and a gray sweatshirt. They weren't particularly flattering, no, but, he found her adorable nonetheless. Oh, fuck. Really, adorable? Next thing he'd start belting out sonnets to her and professing his undying love.

He liked her, sure, and the gods knew he cared for her. But, love? He didn't know if he could love. His mother had tried so hard to show him affection, but his father had never allowed it. He wondered just what happened to the carrying man his mother had told him about when they had first married. Could a person truly change so dramatically? So suddenly?

He wasn't long into his thoughts before he caught her stirring out of the corner of his eye. Looking at her now as she raised her hands over her head and stretched, body curving and he could detect just a hint of her a growing stomach as her sweater tightened around her body.

When her eyes opened she jumped, it wasn't exactly the first time he'd had that reaction from someone. He could see her body tense for a millisecond, before she calmed when she found her bearings.

Draco smirked at the blush on her cheeks, but he didn't look away. Even as she did, and started to disfigure the foot stool back into a bed. When she was done, she returned to the chair, wringing her hands, before placing them together between her knees. She seemed to have something on her mind, something she wanted to say. So, he gave her the room to say it and remained quiet.

"I thought about everything you said," her voice was but a whisper, and he shifted a little, throwing his legs over the side of the bed in a bid to get somewhat closer to hear her more clearly.

"But?"

"No, but," Hermione shook her head and finally looked up at him, her bushy hair a messy halo around her head. "You were completely logical, and I find myself to be a rather probable and reasonable person, so I don't see why it couldn't work."

"Are you saying you want me to be the child's father, Granger?" Draco couldn't help the bit of snide that seeped into the remark, and he wouldn't apologize for it. It was a little more conceited then he meant, though. Especially with the smirk on his lips.

Just as well, the look he got was rather comical. Jaw dropped, eyes wide, a blush that was just a tad bit lighter than the Weasley's on her cheeks. But then her mouth came to a close, and the corners of her lips shifted into a smile that resembled something of a Cheshire Cat, eyes gleaming. "Oh, it's Hermione now, Draco. We're going to have to play the parts, if we're going to fool everyone into thinking we're intimate."

She was trying to intimidate him, as if acting like she was a goddess would be very hard and he'd find it horrendously, disgusting. Well, he had a bit of a surprise for her, didn't he? "I don't think that will be a problem, Hermione. I'm rather good at performing."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but before she could say much else, footsteps were brought to their attention and they both looked to see Madam Pomfrey click-clacketing their way. "Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy..." her voice was all business as she stepped at the foot of the bed. "Professor Dumbledore would like to see you both in his office."

/-/-/-/

Hermione and Draco sat in the chairs opposite Dumbledore, looking at the man and trying not to look at all the people behind them. When they had arrived it had seemed they'd interrupted an argument, but it stopped the moment they stepped inside.

Hermione did wonder just what the Order was doing in this office, though?

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore began and the older man had a comforting twinkle in his eye. "Word has gone around school that you are the father of Hermione's child. To which, all in this room are aware, you are not."

Draco nodded and shrugged his shoulders. "Weasley was practically accusing Hermione, here, of being a whore. I thought I'd step in."

"And claim the child as your own?" the headmaster asked, with a hint of amusement.

"Yes."

"Oh, you insufferable little, brat!" Snape's voice made Hermione jump, and she looked behind her to see Snape fuming, a sneer marring his face.

"Severus, please," Professor Dumbledore said, giving the DADA teacher a rather stern look.

It was clear that Snape wanted to say more, and Hermione watched the muscles in his jaw tick dangerously. Awaiting the obvious, impending explosion, but he surprised her and stayed quiet.

Hermione turned back around to look at Dumbledore, catching sight of Draco for a brief second and wondering how he could be so calm.

"Are you aware of the dangers you've put yourself in, Draco," he asked him.

She didn't have to look to see his defiant nod or hear his unhindered, "Yes." she ducked her head, when she felt a small smile curl it's way across her lips. They'd just finished having this conversation with each other in the Medical ward and now it seemed Dumbledore was going to have a repeat for himself.

"And are you okay with this, Miss Granger?" She did look up as she was addressed, with a glance in Draco's direction she nodded.

"We've spoken about it, Professor," she said quietly. "And we've agreed that I will be safer if Draco take responsibility, since then he won't come searching if word gets outside these walls."

"Hermione, dear," Mrs. Weasley's voice spoke quietly and she looked back at the Weasley matriarch, who held her husbands hand. "I know it must be hard for you, but do you know the name of who did this to you?"

Hermione looked down to her lap and she swallowed slowly. She didn't know if she was ready to say his name. To make it completely and totally real. That his child was growing in her womb. But, it was already real, wasn't it? She couldn't exactly hold it off anymore, not when the whole school knew, not when the people in this very room knew. And definitely not, now that her stomach was starting to grow.

The whole room was silent and then she felt a light touch on her shoulder. Raising watery eyes to see who it was, a tear slipped down her cheek and Remus Lupin gently wiped it away. "It's okay, Hermione. You tell us whenever you're ready."

She couldn't look at him any longer, he had been her favorite Defense Against the Dark Art's teacher, and she had felt completely betrayed when she thought he had been coercing with Sirius Black. Only to find, Sirius wasn't a mass murderer, after all. She had to say it. Had to get it out. Because if she didn't, it would eat her up until nothing was left. Completely destroy her. Consume her, crush her, and break her. And hadn't she been broken enough, hadn't she lived through enough of this hell?

She couldn't look at any of them, not Dumbledore or Draco. Nor Lupin or Mrs. Weasley and the lot of them. She'd briefly seen Fred and George there and a couple other redheads, that could only be the Weasley's she had yet to meet, Charlie and Bill.

"I can't say it with all of you here," she then gasped out, shaking her head. "I'll say it, but not with all of you here," she sniffled and covered her face with her hands. Painstakingly petrified with all of them looking at her.

She heard shuffling, and a bit of mumbling through her sobs, but she couldn't make out what was happening around her. Not until everything was quiet did she finally look up, to find every gone, but Draco. "It's too much," she told him.

"Then don't tell me," he said and she shook her head. "Hermione," it felt weird hearing him say her name. "You don't have to say it."

"But, I do!" she pleaded for him to hear her reasoning. "I have to, otherwise it will haunt me forever, he will haunt me forever! I don't want to live my entire life afraid and ruined! I don't want him to ruin me," she flung her hands over her face once again.

There was a long silence before she heard Malfoy stand and then she felt a hand on her knee. "Look at me," the demand was clear, and she had half a mind to ignore it, but slowly she moved her hands and tilted her teary face to look at him kneeling before her. Caging her in with his hand on one armrest while the other still rested, gently against her knee. "I watched my father kill my mother. I don't know how he did it, but he managed out of Azkaban and waltzed into the house and killed her right in front of me. You want to know what he did next?"

Hermione could only stare after that admission. She wondered, but never asked out of consideration, and now she was unsure she wanted to hear the rest, because what he was telling her was already horrible. "He played with her corpse after tying me to a chair. And much like Nott's father did to him, I was traded. To Greyback. Did you know the werewolf likes little boys best?" Hermione shook her head, closing her eyes as more tears swam in them and blurred her vision. "I would never tell you the details of what the bastard did to me," Hermione nearly broke at hearing his voice lightly crack, but then he cleared his throat as if it hadn't happened.

"You should never know those horrors, but sadly you have horrors of your own. He can't ruin you, unless you allow him, you hear me?" she heard the question and only opened her eyes when he lightly grabbed her chin. "Do you hear me, Hermione? He can't haunt you unless you allow him to."

She nodded, and then threw her arm around him. Too emotional to placate herself for doing so. She felt his body go stiff and it took a minute for him to relax, but then his arms wrapped around her. He was so warm, so comfortable that she wanted to drown in his embrace. It was a rather large shock that he would confess his story to her. That he would put aside his own emotional turmoil and tell her his situation in an effort to mollify and taper her worries.

She shifted her head, so her mouth was at his ear, her voice a weeping whisper.

"Antonin Dolohov."

/-/-/-/

November 12th, 1996

Hermione had been given Monday off, all of her homework brought to her rooms and she even had Ginny and Pansy fill everyone (those who were her closest friends), in on what truly happened. The who of the situation still only known to Draco and the Order. As she had wanted it to be and remain to be until further notice.

When Tuesday came along, she found she was ready for classes, although, maybe not ready to face her fellow students. She waited in her room, sitting on the couch and staring at the coffee table with her book bag in her lap and a pensive look on her face. She was surprised when she felt the couch dip beside her and when she turned her head, she was even more surprised to see Malfoy.

Draco had been rather nice over everything, he hadn't even commented when she had so openly blubbered all over his robes. He had been kind, which in itself was an overwhelming change. But, then again, maybe it wasn't a change, maybe it was a quality he had buried deep inside. She didn't know.

His arm was thrown casually over the back of the couch now, as she looked at him and he stared back at her. She remembered how his body had tensed when she told him it was Antonin Dolohov's child she carried and how his arms had tightened a little more around her. It confused her, but she hadn't questioned it. He'd made her feel safe and even now as they sat their in silence she felt like nothing could touch her.

"You ready?"

The question was simple enough and she nodded, taking his hand when he stood and offered his to her to help her up. He didn't let go however as he led her out of the room and through her very own portrait hole. And their fingers stayed connected as they turned down corridors and passed other students who were going in the same direction.

It was hard to ignore the whispers, but she took a page out of Malfoy's book and stood tall as she walked beside him and gave his hand a squeeze, that he returned. They paused outside the Great Hall doors, students passing by them and looking back at them before they continued to whisper and headed to their designated tables.

"Ready, my lovely love, Hermione," he asked her, a little sarcastically and she couldn't help the large grin that spread across her face when she looked at him and saw his pompous smirk.

"But, of course my darling, Draco," she said, almost slipping up and calling him her 'darling ferret'. "Better get it over with," she said with a more exhausted sigh.

And on that note they both walked into the Great Hall, hand in hand, ignoring the calm before the storm as they sat down at the end of the Slytherin table where their odd group was secluded to.

TBC