A/N: Do people even read these? I know some do. Most of the time, this is where I try to answer my reviewers' questions or comments. I think it's kind of important. *shrug* Anyway, thank you to all who read this fic and the A/Ns, review, follow, and put this fic on their favorite list.

Thank you to: Kar-Kar93, Angelus Draco, Aya Diefair, Vaneesa85, hkmac, chyaraskiss, Guest, Jessica682, and Anjali Katari for the reviews. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Very nice things were said, and I sure appreciate them. I did get an interesting question, and all I can say right now is…*shrug*

To Aya Diefair: Thank you and I agree about the horrific things HP characters had to experience. JK is amazing. She's totally kick-ass, but there is no way everything was rainbows and skittles after the war. It never is after any war. It's probably why she went straight to 19 Years Later. She didn't want to deal with that mess. Who would? A crazy person like me. :p

Also, I have gotten comments here or there about if Hermione will be ending up with some dude at the end of the story. All I can say right now is don't worry about it. I know it's a hard thing to do because I reckon I've got some Pro-Some Kind of Happy Ending readers out there but just relax. This story is not about Hermione falling in love again no matter what you read in future chapters that may cause you to think otherwise. This story is a Dramione. A tragic one, but a Dramione, nonetheless. They are the main paring of this powwow.

Enjoy Chapter 27! R&R, please!

Hermione took the candle out of the cake and brought it between her and Draco, both blowing a puff of air to extinguish the flame. Smoke filtered through the air, and Hermione followed the wisps with her eyes, her vision becoming hazy. She contorted her brow and blinked, waving the smoke away from her, but the motion didn't help. The smoke thickened, and Alex and Draco faded away.

"No!" Hermione shouted and reached for them, her hands sinking into smoggy air. A rancid smell of burning flesh and blood clogged her nose, causing her lungs to seize, and she coughed for breath. Her eyes scattered in hopes of seeing anything besides grey smoke. Her hand reached out again in the direction Alex and Draco faded and yelped pain, and yanked her arm back to cuddle it to her chest. She gazed down to look at her injured limb and saw blood soaking into Draco's shirt she still wore. Lifting her wrist closer to her vision, she saw her scars tearing open like fabric splitting at the seams.

"No," she whispered in pain and covered the wound with her other hand, looking around for help. "Draco!"

Through the thick mist, a pair of hands shot towards her and hit her chest. She fell backwards on a hard, cold surface, her vision becoming dark for a split second before focusing on a black-clothed figure hovering over.

"How did you get the sword?!" screeched the figure.

"No!" Hermione tried to squirm away from Bellatrix but stopped when feeling indescribable pain, like her blood had turned to acid and was eating away from inside out. "Ahhhh!"

Hands flew to her shoulders and to her face, and she flailed her arms while screaming, "Get away! Stop!"

"Hermione!"

"No!"

"Wake up!"

A cold blast of air knocked Bellatrix to the side and out of Hermione's vision. She blinked and saw a large chandelier moving above her, the tiny glass bulbs wiggling. She closed her eyes and felt another blast of frigid cold upon her skin. Shivering, her eyes fluttered open and she was staring at herself in the mirror, eyes red and hair damp with sweat. An unbearable pain shook her womb and she screamed, looking down and seeing a bulge underneath her white night dress. Wet warmth trickled down her thighs, and she lifted the hem and saw a pool of blood gathering between her widely spread feet.

"No," she sobbed and placed a hand on her stomach, feeling her womb contract in pain. "No, it's too soon!"

"Hermione!"

She looked away from her stomach and stared at her reflection again.

"This is your fault!" screamed her reflection and the mirror cracked, the broken jagged pieces darting towards her. She covered her face with her arms and felt a pair of hands grip her around her wrists.

"Wake up!"

"Let go of me!"

"Wake up, Granger!"

Hermione tried to break free from the hold on her wrists. Finally, the hands let go of her wrists but not a few seconds later, icy water doused over her. Coughing, she closed her eyes and opened them again, seeing a pair of trousers.

"Granger?" she heard a man say. Blinking again, she shivered and curled into herself. The man bent at the knee, and she sniffled.

"Blaise, what's wrong? Why am I wet?" she asked and grimaced, pulling herself up into a sitting position. Folding her drenched arms, she scanned her surroundings, her eyes landing back on Blaise. "I must have fallen asleep. Is Alex alright? Where is he?" She went to stand up, but he placed his hands on her shoulders, a peeved expression on his face.

"He's fine. He's in Draco's room lying on the bed. I don't think he's asleep, but that's where he wants to be."

"I need to go to him." Hermione went to stand up again from the couch, but Blaise kept his hold on her shoulders. She cocked her head to the side and cinched her eyebrows together. "Let me go."

"Are you alright?" he asked slowly.

"I'm fine. I'm wet. Why am I wet?" she repeated as if she had forgotten and lifted up her arm, unhappily eyeing the drenched material of her polo sweater.

"I cast an Aguamenti on you."

"Why?"

"Because you wouldn't wake up."

"So you doused me with cold water?"

"To me, it looked like you would have very much appreciated being woken up. You were obviously having a difficult time. You were thrashing here on the couch. At first I thought you were having a seizure. I ask again, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Hermione said and tucked a soaked lock of hair behind her ear, trying to remember what she had dreamed but was semi-grateful she couldn't. She knew from the racing of her heart and from Blaise's description, she was having a nightmare.

"Do you need anything? A drink?"

Tugging on the material of her sweater, she wryly said, "I got one, thanks."

"I'm sure there's a bottle of Firewhiskey around here somewhere," Blaise said while sweeping his gaze around the apartment, and Hermione half-heartedly smiled and rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure there are better things here than Firewhiskey, Zabini. Never mind, though, I don't drink. Haven't had one in almost a year."

Blaise tossed her a wary gaze. "Were you a little too friendly with the bottom of the bottle?"

"No, I realized I do stupid things while under the influence."

"A little sip of Ogden's Finest should take the edge off while Apparating. I think we should leave soon. I'm sure you don't want to be here for much longer."

"I don't," Hermione agreed. "And though the offer of alcohol sounds tempting, I have another way of taking the edge off."

"There is no magical cure for lung cancer, Granger, just to let you know. I tell my mate Theo all the time. You remember him, right? He was-"

"I remember," Hermione grumbled and pinched the skin of her nose between her eyes and hunched over. "What time is it?"

"Nearly seven. You were out for a while, but I thought you needed the rest. I took care of Alex. All he really wanted was to go in Draco's room and lay down, but he's got to be hungry. You, too."

"There's no food here," Hermione muttered, silently admitting to herself she could use a meal. Merlin, did she feel nauseas, but she wouldn't turn away a bowl of thick, hearty potato soup with some bread and butter.

"Which is why we should leave."

"Among other reasons. I'll..." Hermione stood up. "I'll fetch Alex. He probably won't want to leave, but we can't stay here."

Both doors were open when she arrived at Draco's threshold. She popped her head in and saw Alex lying down on his stomach facing away from her, his hands clutching the silk comforter.

"Alex," she said. His hands let go of the comforter, and he rolled over to face her, burying the lower half of his face into the mattress. His eyes were bloodshot, and his entire face was puffy and pinkish.

"Mama," he hoarsely called for her and slowly climbed off the bed before running towards her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his face into her stomach and mumbled, "Why are you wet? Did you cry that much?"

Smoothing down his wild curls, she smiled ruefully at him. "Yeah, I did."

"Do you want Daddy, too?"

"Very much," Hermione whispered.

Alex sucked in a damp, sobbing breath and cried, "Why did he have to go? I didn't want him to."

"I don't know. Sometimes people just…go, and it's not fair to those who are left behind," Hermione hesitantly explained. Never before had she needed to explain to Alex as to why people die. Not once in his eight years had he suffered the devastation of losing a loved one, and it was most certainly unfair his first had to be his father. Draco had been young, only thirty, but Hermione knew Death took anyone regardless of age. She could not help but think of all the young bodies which had littered the ground of Hogwarts over twelve years ago. At the time, she had thought of herself as an adult, but she hadn't been. Not really. Hermione had been a child as all of the students around her had been, too. They were all children, and too many had perished.

"But I want my daddy. I want him really, really bad." Alex tightened his hold around his mother wept into the already soaked material of her sweater. "Bring him back."

"Oh, Sweetheart," Hermione replied lovingly. "If only I could, but you know I can't."

A strangled cry vibrated against her belly, and she continued to caress his hair and the back of his neck soothingly. She then gently grabbed his arms and loosened his hold on her, so she could bend down at eyelevel with him. With tears brimming, she cupped his face and placed her thumbs beneath his eyes to catch and wipe away his tears. "I'm so sorry, Alex. I wish every second that he was here. I don't want you to be sad. I don't want you to experience losing a parent so young. It's hard enough when you're older."

"Did you lose your daddy, too?" Alex croaked.

"In a way, yes," she said.

"And your mommy?"

Closing her eyes, Hermione sighed and nodded.

"I don't want to you to go away, too!" Alex fastened his arms around her neck and squeezed. "Please don't go away."

"I'm not going anywhere," Hermione softly affirmed while rubbing his back. "The next time you stick yourself to me, I'm not detaching you. I'm going to stay with you forever and ever and ever."

"Really?"

"Yep. When you go to school, I'm going have to go with you."

Sniffling, Alex replied, "I don't think Mrs. Fitchell would like that."

"And when you go to the park, I'll have to go, too. You'll probably have a difficult time playing with your friends."

"You're being silly, Mommy," Alex said in a hushed tone and wiped underneath his eyes with the sides of his wrists and forearms.

"Only a little," she murmured. "But, Alex, we have to go now. We can't stay here."

Pulling away, she saw Alex open his mouth and then close it, looking around the bedroom with a watery pout. "But I want to stay here. It's Daddy's home."

"I know you want to stay, Sweetheart, but this place wasn't really his home."

"It wasn't?"

Hermione shook her head somberly, loathing of what she was going to tell him, but it had to be done. He was utterly heartbroken, and she needed to mend it, even if it meant compromising her own heart eternally.

"No, this place was merely a resting place. Daddy spent most of his time at work or with his parents. You remember how we were talking about them, don't you?"

Alex nodded. "Are we going to stay with them?"

"No, but we are," Hermione paused to fight down the acidy bile creeping up to sear the back of her throat, "going to visit them. Probably tomorrow."

"Are they nice like Daddy?" he asked.

Hermione pursed her lips and cocked her head to the side slightly. Nice and Draco were not two words she would have put together in the same sentence, but Alex had only known the Daddy side of his father. As for the man's parents…

"They'll be nice to you. They better be, anyway," she said, caring little of how they treated her and was well aware of their dislike for her. The feeling was mutual.

"If we're not staying here or there, where are we going? A hotel?"

"Uh…" Hermione had not actually thought that far ahead. Where would they stay? Most certainly not a hotel. The moment she showed her identification to the front desk clerk, the paparazzi would be flooding the place before she and Alex reached their room.

"Granger?" Blaise called her name from the hallway. Still bent down and semi-embracing Alex, she turned and looked up while he asked, "Are you read to leave?"

"Almost. Where will we be leaving to?"

"Where do you want to go?"

Hermione shrugged and stood up, wringing her hands. "Somewhere we can't be bothered."

"Please put the newspaper down, Lucius. I'm not positive on how many times you have read it today, but I'm sure it has said the same thing each time," Narcissa said before cutting into her grilled fish. "Besides that, it's ill-mannered to read at the dinner table. This dining room is a place for family conversing while partaking of meals. Was that not what you told Draco whenever he would read here?"

"Darling, I'm only trying to figure out who spied on you and Miss Granger," her husband explained and bristled in surprise when the paper flew away from him and across the table into his wife's waiting hands. Smoothly, she folded the paper and proceeded to roll it up.

"Mippy," Narcissa called to her house-elf who appeared with a bow. Handing The Daily Prophet to her, she ordered, "Take this away. My husband has read enough for the evening."

"Yes, Mistress." The elf took the newspaper, bowed, and then disappeared.

"Lucius, at the moment, I'm not terribly concerned about who spied on me and Miss Granger. My thoughts are on tomorrow." Pausing, she set down her fork and knife and broke her mask of cool collectivity with a beaming, pleased smile. "Blaise said that Miss Granger would most likely come over tomorrow with Alexander."

"Scorpius, Darling. His name is Scorpius. We should address him as such," her husband suggested with a haughty smirk.

"But Blaise said that we should call him by his middle name. He was afraid the boy may not appreciate being called Scorpius," Narcissa reminded urgently. "I don't want to upset the boy. I want everything to go smoothly tomorrow. It will set the tone for years to come."

"Cissa," Lucius sighed out gruffly and clasped his hands together. "Tomorrow is going to be a nightmare. I know you are excited to see the boy. I am, as well. Take into consideration, though, of why Miss Granger and Scorpius are visiting. It won't be a social visit. They will not be smiles and giggles and complement the tea and biscuits. The child will be sad. From what Blaise said earlier, Miss Granger has immediate plans to tell the boy about Draco. Right now, the boy may know. Tomorrow when we see him, he will not be happy. He will be sad and-"

Narcissa silenced him by smacking her hands on the table and glaring at him. "You will not ruin this for me because you feel the need to demolish the excitement for yourself. I don't care if the boy is so distraught; his mother has to carry him the entire visit. I'm just grateful I get to see him. Lucius, when was the last time a child was in this house? It has been so long, so I will take Alexander any way I can get him."

"Master. Mistress," Mippy reappeared and bowed. "Mrs. Parkinson-Weasley has been trying to reach Master and Mistress over the Floo for an hour."

Narcissa exhaled and covered her face with her hands, and Lucius said to the elf, "Tell Mrs. Parkinson-Weasley that right now is not a good time, but we got her letter and have read it."

"No." Narcissa raised a finger and waved it. "No, let her through but only her. I will not tolerate her husband this evening. Neutralize the Floo immediately after she passes. "

"Yes, Mistress."

"Put her in the Yellow Tea Room, serve her tea, and I shall arrive in time."

"Yes, Mistress," the elf said and bowed before disappearing.

"I don't think it's wise to have Pansy over, Cissa," Lucius commented. "Things are chaotic enough."

"I want to talk to her," she said firmly and moved away from the table to straighten her robes. "Now is not ideal, but I cannot think of a more suitable time. I believe you and I are going to be quite occupied for the next while."