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Chapter Five
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Draco snorted to himself as he stared out the window that magic made possible. Less than three bloody months ago, his life had been normal -- as normal as his ever got, anyway, with a deatheater for a father. He had a girlfriend he loved more than he thought possible; she had even qualified as a rebellion, which was something Draco had previously thought himself beyond. He'd had a father he loved and hated in equal measure, and he had the typical decisions about his future to make. He shoved aside the one not so typical decision, as it didn't seem worth thinking about right now.
Now, barely 17 years old and not only did he have a child on the way, he was also a widower. He had a dead wife, a mudblood had possession of his and his wife's unborn child -- which was the absolute oddest concept all by itself -- his father was responsible for said wife's death, and finally, he was playing servant.
And no, he thought, rolling his eyes despite his current confusion, he never thought he would see the day he'd be reduced to playing manservent to a do-gooder, Gryffindor know-it-all. It did serve, however, to keep his mind off most of his troubles -- for at least part of the time -- a fact for which he was grudgingly grateful. As much as he may have hated waiting on the Griff, he hated the barren ache, that usually came during the quiet times when he had nothing to do, even more.
What havoc three months could wreak.
What chaos three days could create.
He had spent the last three days in a kind of surreal haze as he alternated between staring out the window, doing absolutely nothing at all, an ache so deep filling him that he wanted nothing more than to simply break down and weep, and a kind of manic flurry of activity to keep Granger as still as possible.
He, to his utter horror, was responsible for all her needs. When he'd 'signed up' for this duty, assuring Madam Pomfrey that he'd make sure she remained still and on her back, he'd pictured getting her meals, the occasional glass of water, books to keep her occupied, or any other thing she may need or want throughout the day. Of course, he'd also pictured her taking royal advantage of the position she had him in, and he'd accepted that inevitability with as much grace as he could muster. He had also assumed a measure of help from both Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape -- Pomfrey because it was her job, and Snape because they were in the middle of his bloody chambers.
To his complete surprise, Granger hadn't taken too much of an advantage of the situation -- at least not that he could detect. While she did keep him busy, she hadn't pulled the classic stunt of asking for one thing, and then upon receiving it suddenly remember that there was something else she wanted . . . and so on, ad nauseum. She had certainly been better behaved than he would have been in her position, not that he was capable of actually being in her position . . . not that he was aware of. Magic was, after all, capable of amazing things -- even to one born to it.
He frowned, suddenly finding himself wondering if he could have been the recepticle instead. Shifting uncomfortably, he realized he had extremely mixed emotions about that odd thought. Men weren't built to bear children -- that wasn't exactly news -- and the very idea kind of made him a little nauseous. Mixed in with that, tempering the squicky reaction, was a raw sense of wonder at what it might be like to feel his child moving inside him, instead of having to reach out with his hand and feel it through the barrier of someone else's body.
Snorting, he shook himself from his fanciful thoughts, a lingering sense of relief equally mixed with disappointment clinging to him as he redirected his train of thought.
He had been quite put out when he'd discovered he was to do it all on his own. Looking back on his assumption of assistance now, though, he wondered where in Merlin's name he'd managed to come up with the kind of optimism that would lead him to that conclusion in regards to the Potions Professor -- the man was about as helpful with the little things as a snake was with collecting eggs.
What did surprise him was the medi-witch's odd hands off policy. This was the kind of thing she got paid for, after all. She came to Snape's quarters twice every day to check on Granger's and the baby's health and to give bloody orders. She usually seemed satisfied by the time she left -- though Draco had caught her giving him odd looks a couple of times -- but she had not once lifted a hand to get anything for the blasted Griff.
He shook his head again, this time laughing quietly. He'd had to carry her to the bloody loo of all places! That first time was actually kind of funny . . . in retrospect; though he certainly hadn't thought so at the time. Both of them had been embarrassed beyond belief. He'd caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he was leaving to give her a semblance of privacy, and he still didn't believe it was possible for him to turn that color.
That didn't even touch on the idea of assisted bathing, which both of them had adamantly drawn the line at. So far, cleaning charms had sufficed, a fact that neither Pomfrey, nor Snape, were aware of. Madam Pomfrey wouldn't have understood their reticence given what she probably believed about the current situation. What was helping someone bathe after 'stuffing them up'? As far as Snape went, Draco simply couldn't imagine actually discussing that kind of thing with the austere wizard. It'd be like trying to talk to his father about it!
Unfortunately, he thought, casting a glance at the napping source of his current dilemma -- not that he'd rather have the alternative, he superstitiously reassured any meddling fates that might be listening -- he didn't think the charms would content Granger for much longer. Not that he blamed her, as good as cleaning charms were, they were no permanent replacement for good old fashioned soap and water.
Right now, waiting for the medi-witch's first visit of the day, he found himself practically praying for her to grant some activity for Granger. He could easily handle getting her into the bathroom -- he'd been doing that several times a day for the last three days. It was actually helping her into and out of the bath that was stymying him -- not to mention the possibility he would need to assist in the actual bath itself.
That thought produced discordant reactions, part of him reacting as the typical 17 year old male he was, the other part of him wanting nothing more than to crawl in a hole and avoid the whole scenario, knowing full well the potential for embarrassment went far beyond the obvious of seeing her nude.
Unfortunately, if Pomfrey kept her on complete bedrest for another day, he highly suspected that Granger would move past her aversion to the idea -- her growing discontent when the charms were cast was increasingly easy to see. He sighed, his eyes narrowing. He knew, embarrassment accounted for, he would do whatever the hell Granger wanted him to do about it. To do otherwise was to risk the health of his and Katherine's child, and that wasn't something he was willing to do.
Oh, he didn't believe the saintly Gryffindor would do anything to deliberately harm the baby, he just wasn't willing to risk her rather well renowned temper. Who knew what kind of effect that might have on this kind of pregnancy?
On a rather more sour note was the ever present spectre of his father to consider. Draco felt it safe to assume that if his father had reacted as badly as he had to Katherine -- something Draco had not truly thought possible until it was far too late -- the news that Granger was pregnant with Draco's child would likely send the old man into an apoplectic seizure.
Draco didn't see being able to go home for a long time to come.
If ever, came the unbidden thought as Draco choked back sudden tears that threatened to fall yet again. It was in that single, crystal clear moment that Draco realized all that had happened, just what he'd given up to do what he wanted, to be what he wanted. Here in the quiet, he had to wonder whether it was worth all he'd lost. Would his father ever forgive him? He knew there was the very real possibility he wouldn't be able to go home in his father's lifetime.
A quiet sound, murmured in Granger's sleep drew his attention, and unbeknownst to him a soft smile played across his mouth.
Yes, it's worth it, he thought. My child is worth it.
A sharp staccato rapping on Snape's door, jerked his attention back to his surroundings. He leapt up, striding quickly toward the door. With any luck, his freedom was standing on the other side of it. Long habit overrode his excitement and he double checked the identity of the visitor before opening the door -- not that he truly suspected it would be anyone it shouldn't be . . . not here at Hogwarts.
He grinned, opening the door to admit the medi-witch. "Good morning, Madam Pomfrey," he greeted, formally bowing her into the room. He was experiencing a rush of positive feeling, why not let others benefit from it?
Madam Pomfrey eyed him before breaking into a smile of her own. "You're certainly chipper today, Mr. Malfoy," she said cheerily, bustling inside.
"Yes," he readily agreed, "I am." He didn't offer a reason for his exhuberance as he doubted the medi-witch would see it quite the same way he did.
It faded slowly away, replaced with his more standard concern as he watched Pomfrey wake Granger and as he listened to their quiet exchange. No matter how well he knew Granger and the baby were doing, he always got . . . restless and edgy when the actual check was in progress, the continuing need for it reminding him sharply of the all the dangers.
"Well," Pomfrey exclaimed happily, "I'd say you're ready for limited activity, Miss Granger."
Draco cheered silently.
Granger wasn't as quiet. "Thank God!" she replied fervently.
Pomfrey chuckled, settling herself on the chair opposite the sofa that had been Granger's temporary home.
Granger blushed, shrugging sheepishly. "I was about to go completely stir crazy," she admitted quietly.
"Understandable, Miss Granger," Pomfrey replied knowingly, immediately launching into a description of what she considered 'limited' activity. Before the woman was finished, the rest of Draco's good mood evaporated. He wasn't going to be as free as he thought. Granger would be allowed to walk to the loo by herself -- as long as somone was with her to support her should she need it. She was allowed to go outside to sit for an hour or two each day, as long as someone carried her there. Limited walking around her own chambers was permitted -- within reason.
In other words, she could now see to her own personal needs, and fetch things like water and a book when she wanted to read, but other than that, Draco was still fully on the hook for taking care of her. He sighed.
"Now that the good news is out of the way," Pomfrey began, her jovial bedside manner evaporating as if it had never existed, "I will now switch from being your health care provider to being the school medi-witch."
Draco frowned in confusion, watching as the same expression settled on Granger's face. "What does that mean?" they both asked.
"Sit, Mr. Malfoy," Pomfrey commanded.
His frown changing to a scowl, he did so, he and Granger sharing a look containing not a small amount of fear. What could possibly be wrong now?
"Miss Granger, have you read the rules and regulations governing student behavior at Hogwarts?"
"Of course," Granger replied immediately, her tone bordering insolent in the 'duh' department.
Pomfrey stiffened, her already disapproving demeanor becoming far more pronounced. "Then, I can safely assume you are aware of the . . . difficulties you now face?" she asked shrewdly, her eyes narrowing.
Draco almost laughed at the exchange, asking Granger if she had read something was like asking a bird if it knew how to fly. He would have if he wasn't suddenly very concerned about the direction this was taking.
His feeling of unease only increased as Granger ducked her head, blushing bright, tomato red. Not a good sign, he thought.
"I kind of skipped the section relevant to this situation," Granger admitted uncomfortably.
"You skipped it," Pomfrey repeated flatly.
Granger nodded slowly. "I never really thought it would apply to me," she explained.
"No one ever does, Miss Granger," Pomfrey retorted sadly, pulling a scroll from the folds of her robe and handing it to Granger. "I keep copies of the 'relevant' section in the infirmary," she continued, waves of 'I thought you were smarter than this,' rolling off the witch.
Granger's mouth opened in immediate protest, but snapped it shut just as quickly as she snatched the scroll and began to read. Draco knew what the girl had been going to say. Surprisingly, he'd felt the same urge to defend her. But what could they say? Without being able to tell the truth about why it should have been very real that the 'relevant' section shouldn't concern her, there was nothing either of them could say to counter the obvious disappointment of the medi-witch.
Shifting closer to Granger, Draco tried to read as well -- without appearing to -- but couldn't manage it from his present angle. He was debating whether or not to move closer, making his intentions obvious, leaning more that direction, when Granger soundlessly handed the scroll to him.
Stunned, his heart froze in his chest, his stomach churning nauseatingly as he was treated to a full view of Granger's silent tears. "What about him?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.
"The rules say nothing about that."
"That's not fair!" Granger exclaimed, clearly outraged.
Forcing himself to look down, Draco quickly scanned the scroll, his heart dropping into his stomach when he reached the part that had Granger in tears.
She's going to get expelled, he thought numbly. This can't be happening!
"You're right," Pomfrey agreed, "it's not fair, but until you're on the board of governors there's not a thing you can do about it." Pomfrey paused, her gaze shifting from Granger to him, then back again. "There is one thing, however, that can prevent your expulsion."
Oh Merlin! Draco thought in despair, snapping his head to stare helplessly at the woman who controlled his future. I'm going to be sick!
"I'm not aborting," Granger said firmly, without hesitation.
The relief that flooded Draco in a tidal wave of sensation almost saw him passing out. He drew in a slow, shaky breath, letting it out the same way. "Thank you," he whispered, no less fervent for being virtually unhearable. Granger's attempt at a smile, however, told him that at minimum she'd read his lips.
"I was not suggesting that course of action, child," Pomfrey replied gently. "It has been obvious to me from the beginning that you care about the baby you carry. If I had thought otherwise, I would have spoken of the possibility before now."
Granger frowned, puzzled, and Draco could feel himself do the same. What then?
"I saw no loophole," Granger confessed.
That makes two of us, Draco thought, his eyes drifting back down the scroll. Reading more carefully now, his confusion did not abate until half way through his third read-through and one word jumped out at him.
He dropped the scroll.
Stumbling to his feet, he backed away, shaking his head.
"Draco?" Granger asked, her voice worried.
He swallowed convulsively, still not believing what he'd read, but stopped backing away. After another deep breath, he met Granger's concerned gaze. "The rules aren't concerned with pregnant students, Granger," he said hoarsely.
Granger's worry shifted immediately to frustrated anger. "Of course they are, Malfoy!" she snapped. "They expel pregnant girls."
He could hear her utter outrage behind everything else about the inequality inherent in that. Draco shook his head, this time adamantly. His throat closed up when he attempted to speak, though. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and tried again. "No they aren't," he insisted, "they're concerning unmarried pregnant girls," he continued, placing the slightest emphasis on the word that had nearly turned him inside out.
If it hadn't been so bloody personal to his own future, watching as full comprehension jumped the Gryffindor would have been hilarious. It was like watching slow motion. Her eyes widened incredibly wide -- almost reminding him of the cartoons he had seen with Katherine. Her face kind of . . . melted as her jaw dropped open, a shaking hand coming up to cover her mouth. Even so, he could see it open and close as she tried to get a single word out.
It didn't work, and Draco had to admit, in a side note full of gallows humor, that it was the best fish imitation he'd seen in a very long time. He did not voice that opinion.
When Granger switched to slowly shaking her head, he turned slightly to face the medi-witch of doom. "How," he began, his voice cracking. "How long do we have to decide the rest of our lives?" he asked faintly.
"If Miss Granger is prudent, I will be telling no one of this, until or unless it begins to endanger the child or Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy. Patient confidentiality is outweighed only by my patients' welfare."
"Prudent?" Granger asked, finally able to find her voice.
"They will have until the first day of classes," Professor Snape said firmly, startling all three occupants of the room.
Draco spun around to face the older wizard. How long has he been here?
"Why?" he demanded angrily.
"Because potions class for seventh year begins first day. Both Madam Pomfrey and myself will then be obligated to pass on the information to the Headmaster for the safety of the child."
"She could always not take advanced potions," Draco shot back.
Professor Snape snorted, and behind Draco, Granger gasped. Draco ignored both sounds, intent on staring down the head of Slytherin -- not that he really thought he had much of a chance. He was arrogant, just not that arrogant.
"Really?" Snape sneered haughtily. "Were that unlikely scenario to happen, not only would I dance a jig," he continued snidely, "it would grant you a precious 24 hours of decision time." His expression turned amused, as he cast a glance Granger's way. "Or, Mr. Malfoy, do you suggest she also not take transfiguration? Care of magical creatures? Herbology? Of course, even that will not grant you much more time, as every class except arithmancy and astronomy presents risks to the unborn, most of which can be worked around, but will only be so done once the pregnancy is known."
"Three days!?" Granger squeaked. "We've got to decide something like this in three days?"
Draco blanched. He couldn't do this! His stomach rolled, and this time was one time too many. His own hand now raised to cover his mouth, he bolted from the room.
"Shouldn't that be my exit?" Granger asked, her voice sounding as shaky as he felt.
Bugger you! Draco thought sourly as he reached the toilet.
The sound of Snape's amused snort followed him. And you too, you bastard! Draco shouted, silently savage as he lost his breakfast.
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Chapter Six
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When Draco finally exited the bathroom, determined not to let his humiliation show, he found the sitting room empty of everyone except Granger. She looked up as he entered, her expression the strangest mixture of hopelessness and amusement he'd ever seen. The hopelessness he understood all too well. It was the amusement that grated on his nerves.
"What?" he snapped, uneasy and awkward with the revelations of the day. If he were the old Draco Malfoy, there would be no confusion, no uncertainty. His own welfare -- his reputation -- would have come before anyone and everyone. He would have left Miss Granger to hang without a second thought. The new Draco Malfoy, the one touched by love and overwhelming loss, couldn't do that, couldn't be quite that callous. Even if he could abandon Granger to her fate -- and he wasn't admitting he couldn't -- he could not do so to his last connection to Katherine.
"They tag-teamed us, you know," she said, her mouth twisting up into a parody of a wry smile.
Before his stay in the muggle world the phrase 'tag-teamed' would have confused him, as it was, he had to think about how it applied to the situation. He shook his head in disbelief, never having pictured Pomfrey and his godfather working together like that before. The Griff was right, though, they had. "Good cop, bad cop," he shot back, attempting to maintain the air of humor.
Granger let out a strangled laugh, mimicking his head movements. "Exactly," she agreed. Their eyes catching, silence descended around them until they both looked away.
"So," Draco started uneasily, his words trailing off. He really didn't want to be the one to start this conversation.
"Right," Granger added, going no further than a single word either.
Oh, Bloody hell! Draco thought savagely, striding forward and dropping onto the sofa next to Granger. It wasn't like they had any choice in the matter. If there was, he would grab it in a heartbeat. The truth of the matter was; if she had to leave Hogwarts, she and the baby were dead. It was as simple as that. "You're not under the delusion that either of us really have an option in this are you?" he asked snidely, uncomfortably aware that his words came out sounding harshly defensive instead of the firmly offensive he'd been going for.
She shook her head. "I know I don't," she replied, surprisingly calmly.
Highly offended, Draco launched to his feet. "And you're suggesting I do?" he accused angrily. "Why? Just because I'm Draco Malfoy I can't possibly love my child?"
The surprised look and the immediate denial from Granger wiped out most of the anger holding him upright and he sank back down onto the sofa, the highs and lows of today beginning to take their toll.
"I didn't mean that at all, Malfoy." She chuckled suddenly. "Actually, I didn't even think it, surprisingly enough."
He frowned at her, not really liking the 'surprisingly enough' comment, but not really able to refute her puzzlement on that -- considering their history. "What did you mean, then?"
"I simply meant that whether you choose to . . . act on this loophole--"
"You mean marry you," he interrupted, unable to resist taunting her just a little, and wanting it all laid out on the table. Suddenly, talking in euphemisms wasn't good enough. He wanted the bald truth laid out for all to see . . . well, at least for the two of them. He didn't give a sod all for anyone else.
She glared at him, but wilted too soon for the look to be truly effective. "Yeah," she replied quietly. "Whether or not you choose to marry me, you'll survive this. Whether the 'not' choice is something you would or wouldn't choose isn't the point, just that the option does exist. We both know that if I get expelled, I won't survive long. I'm good, but I'm not that good."
Vacillating between wanting to be outraged that he could be seen as even considering abandoning his child, and recognizing her point, Draco nodded thoughtfully. He smirked then, even as his stomach made its protests known. "If we're talking about choices that are not really choices here, then we've both got a choice."
"How do you figure that?"
"Much as I'm very grateful it seems to be a 'not choice' for you," he replied quietly, almost unable to force himself to continue, "an abortion is an available option that would free you from all this . . . now that you know the full consequences."
He winced as outrage narrowed her eyes, the glare she leveled him truly impressive, but relaxed as she suddenly laughed. "Point made, Malfoy," she said softly, a touch of humor actually reaching her words.
"You do realize, don't you, Miss Granger," he offered ironically, "that this is a match made in hell?"
"Oh yeah," she agreed. "That much is certain."
"You also realize that it means forever, right?" Draco pressed. He wanted to make sure she knew exactly what this was. He knew, and it was something he was refusing to think about in any depth at the moment. If he did, he knew he would lose it. For that, he really wanted to wait until he was alone. This was not even close to how he wanted his life to turn out and if he gave himself leave to really consider what was happening, how everything was spiralling dizzyingly out of control, he wasn't entirely certain what would happen. "There's no way out once we're in. We don't have the option that Katherine and I took."
Granger shot him a shocked look. "You two got married the muggle way?"
"Yeah," And wasn't that one hell of a fight? Draco thought with bittersweet amusement. Katherine had loved the romance of the forbidden fruit. He'd just been plain repulsed. It hadn't been until he'd made seven separate inquiries that he'd realized his dream of a wizarding wedding was a lost cause -- at least at that moment in time. Of course, he'd still believed, been absolutely sure, he would still get it. Chock full of childish arrogance that his father would come around, he pictured his father finally demanding a second ceremony, a proper wizarding ceremony.
"Wow, I'm. . . ."
"Shocked? Amused?"
"Both," Granger admitted with another small smile. "Why did you? It doesn't seem quite the--"
"Malfoy thing to do?"
Granger nodded.
"Because no one would have been willing to officiate a runaway Malfoy wedding -- no one in the wizarding world anyway," he admitted.
"Too afraid of offending Malfoy Sr."
Draco nodded. "That about covers it," he replied sourly.
"So why isn't that an option with us? And how is it that we'll suddenly be able to find someone to officiate now, when you couldn't before?"
"You mean besides the rather incredible danger if we step foot outside the school?"
"Point," Granger conceded wryly. "It would be a little difficult to have a muggle marry us if we can't even leave this very magical building." After a moment she continued. "And my second question?"
"As a member of the wizengamot, Dumbledore is qualified to officiate," Draco told her quietly, frankly amazed that she seemed to be taking this as well as she was. To him, the mu--ggleborn issue factored out, he was well accustomed to the idea of arranged marriages. They happened all the time in the older pureblood families. Until he'd met Katherine, he'd half expected to end up married to someone he'd met only casually. He knew, though, that the same could not be said for Hermione. For a moment, he wondered if her calm exterior was as deceptive as his own. If so, she was a better actor than he'd ever given her credit for.
"And of course, you wouldn't have been willing to go to the Headmaster before," she replied, understanding immediately.
"Somehow, I think he would be willing, even if not for your safety, then in order to put one over on my father."
Hermione snorted. "I think you're right about that," she said. "They do seem to really . . . dislike . . . each other, don't they."
It was Draco's turn to snort. "You have such a way with understatement, Granger," Draco retorted drily, his voice dripping in sarcasm.
When Granger sighed, directing another glare his way, he was ready, his smirk firmly in place.
"You were very . . . pointed . . . in making sure I knew what I was getting into," she said after several long moments of silence. "How about you, have you really thought about what will happen?"
Unable to remain seated, Draco launched himself to his feet, striding quickly across the room. "I know what's what, that's all I need. I refuse to actually think about it," he snapped.
He heard the tired sigh behind him and almost laughed. Merlin forbid! he thought with rising hysteria. He was about to get one of Hermione Granger's infamous lectures, and he should already be headed for the door. The problem was, he couldn't figure out why he wasn't.
"Back in first year, after running into a three headed dog on the third floor," Granger said calmly, "I told Harry and Ron -- sounding obnoxiously prissy -- that I was going back to my room, before we got killed, or worse, expelled."
Blinking in surprise, both at the lack of lecture and at her utterly barmy confession, Draco turned around slowly to stare at her. "You really needed your priorities straightened out back then," he said finally.
Granger giggled, falling back against the back of the sofa as her increasingly insane sounding laughter rocked her backward.
Draco shifted uneasily, wondering if he should fetch Madam Pomfrey. Granger was really sounding like she was slipping over the edge. She settled down quickly enough, however, much to his relief.
"Ron said the same thing that night," she admitted, smothering one additional chuckle.
Draco's expression soured at that. That was just . . . Ewwrrrg.
"The thing is, I still feel the same way."
What?
"I'm not as scared of dying as I am of failing. Getting expelled, certainly qualifies as failing."
Draco's eyes widened in shock. Granger had just handed him prime extortion material . . . on the proverbial silver platter no less. "You do realize what you just did, don't you?"
"You seem to be asking me that a lot tonight." She shook her head, seemingly chastising herself. "Yes, Malfoy I do, but I did it to make a point."
"What? That you're slightly touched?"
"No, you prat," Granger spat angrily, visibly grinding her teeth together.
Draco frowned at that, remembering his earlier thoughts on the subject. Sighing, he crossed back to her, muttering a nearly inaudible, "sorry."
Granger ignored him. "Are you really aware of how your father might react to this whole . . . situation?"
Astounded, Draco could only stare for several seconds. "How dare you ask me that, Granger," he sneered. "My wife is dead because of him. I assure you, I'm fully aware of what he's capable of."
"That's too obvious," Granger said flatly. "I know you're aware of that specific possibility," she continued quietly. "You're Slytherin; to miss something so obvious a first year would realize it, would take someone truly dense."
Okay, it's official; she's off her nutter.
"What in Merlin's name are you talking about then?" he sneered, still a bit put out. Here he was being all bloody noble and she was insulting him.
Alright! So, I bloody well owe her, he grudgingly admitted to himself, not caring for that thought at all.
"What do you fear more than death, Draco," Granger asked instead of replying.
Eyes narrowing, he fairly growled. "Why should I tell you anything like that . . . Hermione?"
Rolling her eyes. "Ever heard of quid pro quo?"
"Of course."
"Well, I told you my worst fear, now it's your turn."
"You should have made sure of the terms before you spilled your guts."
"Fine. I'm too tired to play games. I'll just put it bluntly, I suppose. After all, I'm a Gryffindor, its one of the things we're best at."
"Spit it out, Granger. You're not the only one who's had a long day."
"What if your father, deciding his tactics didn't work the first time, didn't 'bring you back into line' so to speak, tries something different, something worse?"
"You really have lost touch with reality if you think there's anything worse then having my wife . . . my wife, Granger, murdered on my father's orders."
"And if he disowns you this time, strips your right to the Malfoy name and properties?"
Draco choked. "He'd never!" He might never let me near him again, never again acknowledge me, but. . . .
"No?"
Draco shook his head fervently, the images evoked by the insane Griff's question, hitting far too close to her earlier questions. How the bloody hell did she know that? "He cares too much about the family line," Draco sneered. "Without me, there's no more line."
"Really?" Hermione snorted. "Is he impotent then? Sterile from some kind of accident?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "No, of course not." He frowned. "Well, not that I'm aware of," he amended drily. "It's not like I ever actually asked him. It isn't exactly something I've ever been curious about."
Granger burst out in a sudden short bark of laughter. "Oh!" she exclaimed, grinning madly, "I can just see that conversation."
Draco didn't respond immediately, just eyed her warily for several moments. "You can?" he asked flatly.
"Oh, yes," she confirmed, nodding. "So tell me, Father," Granger said, sounding uncomfortably like him, "are you . . . fully functional?"
Draco couldn't help it. He laughed. He too could suddenly picture the scene. Unfortunately, that scene ended with him locked in his room, feeling the worse for wear, and wishing he'd never opened his mouth to begin with -- but the thought was fun while it lasted.
Disown him? Draco shuddered. That would be bad . . . very bad. He'd never given that a moment's thought, really. It was the unthinkable. The ultimate-- He glanced over at Granger -- who, surprisingly, didn't seem to be watching him -- his mind racing with everything that had happened and what would be happening, Granger's damnable question making it come into focus, made him think about it. The whole world, including his father, would think that--
Sure, he'd figured it could be years before his father forgave him for what he'd supposedly done, but. . . .
She's right, he thought with something akin to incredulousness flashing through him. He swallowed . . . hard. No matter what he did, what he chose, he was was going to lose family. I can't do this! he thought desperately. How was he supposed to choose? He shouldn't bloody well have to choose. He was a Malfoy, and Malfoy's got what they wanted. That was one of the cornerstones he had grown up with.
And keeping the blood pure isn't?
He was caught between two equally unpalatable choices. Well, perhaps not exactly equal. He sighed as the realization stole over him that he was willing to risk even that for his and Katherine's child.
"I--" he began, finding his throat closing off around the words. He cleared his throat and tried again, this time raising his gaze to meet Granger's. She was watching him quietly, speculatively. "I guess that's a risk I'll have to take," he said finally, his voice hoarse, and far more breathy than he would have liked.
Granger's eyes widened briefly in surprise. She recovered quickly, however, nodding once. "All right," she said quietly. "When?"
Unable to remain seated, Draco was surprised to find himself shaking. The bizarre situation was beginning to really sink in, he knew, becoming all too bloody real. The upcoming school year was going to be trying at the very best, which had been a problem all along. He sighed heavily, acknowledging that this new piece to the puzzle would simply add to the difficulty. When he had originally faced the oddity of going back to school after such a radical change in his life, he'd done so with the picture of Katherine at his side. Now, it wouldn't be Katherine, it would be Granger. His heart clenched at that sudden reminder of his wife -- not that he had forgotten her. Far from it, in fact; awareness of her absence was like a constant buzzing at the back of his mind, one that he could push aside if he kept himself occupied enough. But blatant reminders such as thinking about facing the student body without her, were much like being blindsided by a rogue bludger.
He watched Granger as he thought, his mind whirling with courses of action, and what specific consequences each might lead to. Eventually he sighed. "I think I would rather do this before school starts," he said slowly.
He could see he'd surprised her again, and he smirked in response. He loved being able to keep her off balance. It was a pleasant quirk to an otherwise untenable situation. "Surprised?" he asked, wanting to know if she would admit it.
"Yes, actually," she replied. "I figured if you agreed at all, you'd want to put it off as long as possible."
He shook his head. "No, definitely not." On that one point he was absolutely certain. There was no way he was going to become a laughing stock because everyone knew they'd 'had to get married'. It would be humiliating beyond belief.
She frowned, a line of puzzlement creasing her forehead. "Why?"
"I'll answer that with a question of my own," he said with a new smirk.
Rolling her eyes, Granger snorted.
I really should start thinking of her as Hermione. I'm marrying the chit, after all.
"Well?" she asked finally, wrenching Draco out of his bemused thoughts.
"Would you rather it looked like we both wanted this, or that we were forced into it?" It took only a moment for the light of understanding to dawn on Gr-- Hermione. When she smiled, he merely cocked an eyebrow in response. "Personally, I'd rather hold my head high and let them think I'm doing this because it's what I want."
"Good point," she admitted.
"Glad you agree," Draco replied evenly, mentally breathing a sigh of relief. "No one will even have to know when we actually got married if we do it secretly."
"How's that?" Granger asked in blatant disbelief. "As soon as the ceremony is complete, all the pertinent information will be filed with the Ministry of Magic for all the wizarding world to see."
"Yes, it will," Draco readily agreed, not elaborating.
Sighing in obvious frustration, complete with requisite glare, Granger huffed. "Explain," she demanded.
Smirking yet again, Draco did so. "The night before Katherine and I ran away, I owled Gregory with explicit instructions."
"And?" Granger prompted when he fell silent.
"I told him to 'leak' the story of my flight and muggle marriage to the daily profit. It made headline news the next day. I checked."
"But that was to Kat."
"I'm well aware of that, Granger. The thing is, her name was never mentioned. Gregory got everything right except that one thing. He bloody forgot who I ran away with."
"Convenient for us," Hermione muttered.
Draco nodded. "I was angry at him for the longest time because of it, but now, it seems I owe him for his forgetfulness."
"So we let everyone think we got married back in . . . ?"
"June," Draco informed her, "June 4th, to be precise."
"And the reason for the second ceremony?"
Draco paused. "We wanted the wizarding ceremony, of course. People will expect no less of me."
"But what? We are so much in love that we simply couldn't wait until we could get to the headmaster?"
"Errmm, yes," Draco replied, "that's it exactly."
"Oh, that was real convincing."
"Well, it's not like it's you I have to convince, now is it?" Draco snapped defensively. The idea that it would appear they'd actually been eager had thrown him.
"True," Hermione admitted quietly, a surprising sound of apology in her tone.
Well, Katherine, he thought, his heart twisting inside his chest, I'm doing it. I'm protecting our child. I hope to bloody Merlin that you approve.
Her lips twisting upward into an irony laden smirk, Hermione met his gaze ruefully, almost as if she'd heard his fervent thoughts. "You and me against the world," she murmured quietly. "Who would have believed it?"
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Chapter Seven
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Hermione glared at the back of her potions professor. 'Oh, this is going to be an interesting year,' she repeated silently, her mindvoice just as thick with sarcasm as Snape's real one had been -- just with a lot more resentment added into the mix. Bloody prat! she thought vindictively.
She and Draco had informed the professor upon his return to his chambers of their decision to marry as soon as was possible, and that they definitely wanted to do so before the start of school. When asked by Draco if he would 'be so kind' as to arrange a meeting with the headmaster, Professor Snape's eyes had lit up. They had quite literally danced with amusement. If she hadn't seen it herself, she wouldn't have believed it -- even if it had, had a rather malicious tint to it.
'I'd be delighted to do that, Mr. Malfoy,' he'd replied in a smug purr, leaving immediately.
She and Draco had shared a bemused glance, he not any less confused than she. They'd shrugged simultaneously as they silently agreed they'd probably never figure it out.
The professor hadn't been gone for more than 30 minutes before he'd returned, his expression still vaguely . . . anticipatory. He'd announced that Headmaster Dumbledore would see them as soon as Madam Pomfrey declared Miss Granger well enough to walk the distance.
That had been almost two days ago and they had less than that left before the start of term.
Eyes narrowing as she continued to survey the unaware back of her potions professor, she wondered just what it was about the upcoming meeting that seemed to so amuse him. She shook her head, coming to the same conclusion the two of them had before, that quite frankly, she would not begin to understand Snape any time soon . . . though, she did have to admit that he had been slightly less abusive than he usually was. Which was something Hermione was quite grateful for, since she hadn't been allowed to move into chambers of her own yet.
She almost laughed. Less abusive certainly hadn't meant he hadn't managed his digs, some subtle and some not so subtle, about the stupidity of what she'd done. His frequent 'so typically Gryffindor' lacked its usual sting, however, as Hermione wouldn't change a thing about this particular spot of trouble she'd bought with her impulsive willingness to help.
The baby she carried, the source of her current predicament, would be dead now if she'd chosen the safe path. No amount of ridicule was going to change that, nor was it going to make her ashamed of her actions. Professor Snape could think what he liked as far as she was concerned, she thought, her hand unconsciously straying protectively to the slight bulge in her belly.
The stone gargoyle scraping open startled her out of her thoughts and she darted a quick glance at her companions. They, apparently, hadn't noticed her preoccupation. What she wanted to know was how she could have been so absorbed in her thoughts as to miss the entire bloody walk. It wasn't exactly a short trip from the dungeons to the headmaster's office.
Snape stepped onto the slowly rising stairs without a backward glance, as if he had not a care in the world.
Of course he doesn't, Hermione thought sourly, he's not the one who's about to bluff his way out of getting expelled. Well, she supposed, she wouldn't really be bluffing perse. She really was going to get married to prevent it.
Hermione glared harder at the man in front of her, caring not a whit that absolutely none of this was his fault . . . he was simply getting an immense amount of joy out of it. If he moved any lighter, she would expect him to suddenly start whistling.
And that was just a very . . . disturbing image. She shuddered and turned toward Draco. Something about that moment struck her, and rather like a bolt of lightening, it all coalesced
Oh God! she gasped silently. I'm going to marry Draco Malfoy!
She swallowed hard and risked another glance at Draco as the stairs ground to a halt beneath her. He really didn't look much better than she felt.
No, I'm not, she thought as her stomach twitched and flipped, a wave of dizziness passing over her. I'm going to pass out instead. Or the headmaster is going to know what really happened and expel me for casting dark magic. Or I'm going to just die right here and right now.
A gentle hand at the base of her back pulled her from her frantic mental babble, as did the breath over her ear as Draco whispered to her.
"Pull yourself together, Hermione," he chided, a seemingly teasing note to his voice. "Anyone would think you didn't actually want to marry me."
She snorted, letting out a nervous giggle as well. "Heaven forbid we should let anyone think that," she replied drily, thankful to Draco for the first time ever for making her feel a little better. "I apologize. Should I get to fainting now because of the intense pleasure of the priviledge of marrying your august person?"
"But of course," Draco replied hautily, straightening to his full height, then frowning uncertainly. "Well, except for the fainting part."
Anything else he might have said was cut off by the snort from in front of them . . . a snort that earned Professor Snape's back, twin glares, one from her and one from Draco. A mutter that sounded suspiciously like 'inane babble' followed, which Hermione frowned at, and considered protesting. She didn't, however, as the headmaster chose that moment to enter his office from the opposite side.
It wasn't until Draco's hand left the small of her back that she realized that the comforting hand had been shaking. The realization did absolutely nothing to calm her nerves, but oddly enough, she did feel a bit better knowing he was as profoundly affected by this as she was.
"Welcome, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy," the headmaster greeted heartily. "Quite a surprise to see you both at Hogwarts this early," he continued, an open expression of curiosity on his face, "One might go so far as to say it's even more surprising, shocking even, to see the two of you here together."
Not daring to glance at either Draco or Professor Snape, Hermione attempted to smile at the headmaster, a man she genuinely liked. Right now, however, it wasn't easy and she suspected her smile wasn't as welcoming as it could have been. "Thank you, Headmaster," she said quietly.
Casting a perturbed look at Professor Snape, the headmaster motioned them all to chairs. "Sit, relax, then perhaps you can tell me what I can do for you. I must admit, Professor Snape was most . . . closed mouthed about the problem."
Hermione almost giggled. The headmaster looked a bit put out, and she couldn't help but wonder how hard he'd tried to get the information from Professor Snape. Now she knew why the professor was reacting the way he was. He finally had information -- about students -- before the headmaster. Hermione would certainly admit that sometimes, just occasionally, the headmaster's seeming ability to know everything about everything could be . . . annoying. That was, of course, when that ability wasn't saving her life.
No one moved.
Hermione rolled her eyes. This was ridiculous. "I, for one, am going to sit down," she announced abruptly. "You two do what you want."
Had that been a growl from Professor Snape? Draco was certainly glaring at her, but she didn't dare sneak a look at the Professor to find out what he was doing . . . other than standing just inside the doorway.
No one spoke and no one moved as the headmaster seated himself behind his ever-cluttered desk. Hermione sat tensely, wanting nothing more than this meeting from hell to be over with. She absolutely dreaded telling the headmaster; the older wizard had always been supportive and kind and now she was afraid she was going to disappoint him.
Better he thinks you got careless than that you cast dark magic Hermione Jane Granger!
Good point, she replied to the chastising voice inside her.
She watched the headmaster survey the three of them, the ever-present twinkle in his eyes dimming a bit as he took in their defensive postures.
"Perhaps this one time we should skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point," he offered quietly, clear concern lining his face.
Across the room, Draco nodded and opened his mouth to speak.
Hermione's nerves didn't give him time to say a single word. "I'm pregnant," she blurted, gasping as she said the words aloud for the very first time. It made it seem so very terribly real.
Snape snorted.
Draco glared at her.
The headmaster's jaw dropped open -- just momentarily, but it did happen.
If Hermione hadn't been so caught up in her own little world of nerves and fear, she might have enjoyed the feeling of having surprised the unflappable Headmaster Dumbledore. As it was, she shifted nervously in her seat, waiting impatiently to hear his response. She watched the twinkle fade completely from his eyes as he put it all together, coming to the obvious conclusion.
"I am forced to admit, Miss Granger," he said stiffly, his focus on Draco, "that is the very last thing I ever expected to hear you say to me."
Hermione barely kept herself from whimpering at the disappointment she heard in his voice. She had expected it, known it would happen, but it hurt all the same.
"And what do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Malfoy?" he continued, his voice growing even colder.
Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. She couldn't remember ever hearing even Professor Snape's voice that cold.
She watched Draco lift his chin, but even she could tell he was just as scared as she was. That was a bit daunting, actually.
"I'm here, aren't I?" he asked rebelliously.
Snape lay a hand on Draco shoulder--
When did he move?
--and Draco stiffened, before relaxing. He nodded once toward the professor, though he didn't turn to look at the older wizard. He kept his eyes trained firmly on the headmaster.
For the first time in her life here at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger watched the headmaster visibly bite back a retort. Instead, he sighed and returned his attention toward her.
"I'm afraid, Miss Granger, that in circumstances such as these my hands are completely tied. To ignore the long held rules and traditions of this school in this matter would see me summarily dismissed as headmaster. You will still be able to sit your newts when the time comes, that is a priviledge that is removed only for offences grave enough to require wand snapping. Unfortunately, you can not remain here to complete your--"
Hermione panicked. He wasn't even giving them a choice! He was going to expel her immediately. "But we want to get married!" she protested, jumping up from her seat. She couldn't let him say the words. She didn't want to hear them. She couldn't hear them. If she did, she was sure she would pass out.
The instantaneous change in the headmaster's expression cut short Hermione's approach. The anger radiating off the the normally gentle and softly spoken wizard was frightening . . . very frightening, and it was enough to make her step backward -- if she could have. His terribly frightful gaze turned slowly back toward Draco, his words coming slowly, one at a time, bitten out through a tightly clenched jaw.
"That would be difficult, Miss Granger, as young Mr. Malfoy is already married."
Oh God! Hermione thought in shock. Why didn't we realize he would know about that? It was in the headlines for goodness sake!
Wait a minute! Didn't he get my owl?
Draco stepped back in an unintended mimicry of Hermione's reaction, bumping into Professor Snape as he did so. Apparently not even Malfoy knew how to handle the headmaster like this.
"Mr. Malfoy's wife was killed, Headmaster," Snape replied. "He is legally completely free to squander his life."
Bastard! Hermione thought, even as she felt grateful for his intervention.
The headmaster . . . deflated. There really was no other word for it, Hermione realized. In a single moment, he went from being a vengeful, powerful wizard, to a weary man, not sure what to make of the situation.
Draco ducked his head to stare at the floor, but he glanced back up quickly, unshed tears glistening in his eyes.
Hermione ached to reach out and comfort Draco, an impulse that confused her greatly. Sure, she felt sorry for him. He'd been through something she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy. But she never thought she would see the day that she would actually want to make his pain go away.
She shook herself out of her thoughts as she realized the headmaster was speaking and she hadn't heard the beginning.
". . . . so much better, Miss Granger. As I said earlier, Hogwarts, as grand an institution as it is, is not the be all and end all of our world. You are a bright young woman, you can study on your own and sit the newts independently."
Hermione's jaw dropped. He was trying to talk her out of it?!
"Surely that would be better than tying yourself to someone who has already been unfaithful to you, or perhaps conversely, unfaithful with you."
Hermione stiffened, her resolve forming into a tight knot inside her, straightening her spine. "In other circumstances, perhaps you'd be right, Headmaster, but what happens when Lucius Malfoy finds out I'm carrying his grandchild?" she asked pointedly. They'd already gone over this. It wasn't fair to make them do it again. "He had Katherine killed because he thought she wasn't 'pure enough' to be a Malfoy. What do you think he'll do to me?"
Eyes widening ever so slightly, he turned a hard gaze toward Snape and Draco. "Is this true?" he asked, his voice gentle this time.
Draco nodded once. "She was killed on his orders after I--" His voice broke and he cleared his throat before continuing. "Because I married her against his wishes."
"Mr. Malfoy, while I cannot condone much of what you've done here, you cannot be held responsible for your father's actions. It is his fault, not yours. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir," Draco replied; though, to Hermione's slowly growing understanding of the Slytherin, he didn't sound like he believed it.
"He's right, Draco Malfoy," she offered quietly. "You have as much right as anyone else to live your life the way you want to. Marrying Kath was a good thing. You did nothing wrong."
"How can you say that!" Draco snapped, stepping toward her. "The only reason she's dead is because I married her!"
" Mr. Malfoy," Snape snapped. "Do you truly believe he would have allowed her to live even if you hadn't married her, considering the circumstances?"
Hermione gasped. She couldn't believe the professor had alluded to that, not with the headmaster right there! And the portraits! Portraits were notorious, busybodying gossips.
The headmaster rose suddenly. "Come with me," he said, turning abruptly and heading up the stairs leading to the upper level of his office.
Hermione frowned, but followed obediently. Behind her, after only a moment's hesitation, the other two followed as well.
What now? she wondered. Where were they going and why had the headmaster suggested they leave his office? Surely, that was the most appropriate place for this conversation.
Her frown deepened as Dumbledore mumbled a password and a hidden door opened.
Turning silently, he waved them inside before him.
Part of Hermione immediately wondered if, in all his visits to the headmaster's office, Harry had ever been inside this room. Simply furnished with comfortable looking furniture, the spartan room was tastefully decorated in brown, tan, and amber, a surprisingly homey and comforting combination. She had a sneaking suspicion they were now in the headmaster's private quarters; though, they looked absolutely nothing like what she'd expect them to.
The door slid shut and Headmaster Dumbledore, turned to face them.
"This room is heavily warded," he said evenly, crossing to what appeared to be a minikitchen of sorts. "I dare say, it's more protected than even order headquarters. Make yourselves comfortable," he continued overly brightly, his back to them as he opened and closed cupboards and drawers. "Anyone up for some tea?"
A chorus of, 'No, sirs,' were followed by silence, broken only by the sounds of Dumbledore's movements.
Hermione trembled, her fatigue growing despite her efforts to ignore it. It had been a long day already, and it hadn't even really started yet. She sat; a heartfelt sigh escaping as she relaxed into the most comfortable chair it had ever been her pleasure to sit in. That earned her the instant attention of both Snape and Draco.
"What?" she asked defensively. "It's comfortable."
They both rolled their eyes at her. Despite the tension, Hermione almost laughed at their nearly identical movements -- sneer included. It was simply too normal for this entirely outrageous situation. They did sit, however, and Hermione was suddenly forced to stifle her laughter again as they both tried so very hard not to relax completely. She had a sneaking suspicion that the chairs had been charmed.
Her attention was rather abruptly jerked back to the problem at hand when Dumbledore stepped toward them, tea service in hand. He set three identical teacups down on the low table without a word, one in front of each of them, as well as one in front of himself, blatantly disregarding the fact that they'd declined his offer.
With a wave of his hand, he silently encouraged them to doctor the drinks to their individual taste -- which each of them did with varying degrees of reluctance. It wasn't until each of them, the headmaster included, had taken a drink, that the deceptively mild mannered wizard pinned each of them with a hard, knowing look.
"So," he began quietly, taking a second sip of his tea, "perhaps now that we're assured of complete privacy, one of you would like to tell me what's really happening here?"
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Chapter Eight
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Silence reigned for several long moments before two voices overlapped.
"I-- I have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione protested; though, she clearly heard Draco respond as well.
"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean."
Hermione cringed mentally, nearly rolling her eyes. They had sounded real convincing. While she had never been any good at lying, she had assumed Draco would be. He certainly had done so often enough. Unfortunately, by the look of things, he wasn't any better than she was . . . at least not to the headmaster. For a moment she idly wondered if the headmaster intimidated Draco.
The wizard in question eyed them both, even sparing a disappointed glance for Professor Snape, and Hermione wanted nothing more than to sink back into her oh-so-comfortable chair and disappear from sight.
Oh, please don't look at me like that. I'll cave. I know I will!
She really hated disappointing the headmaster. It was second on her most feared list. Well, maybe third. He was above even her parents! She bit her lip to keep from spilling everything as her conscience was urging her to do. Only her great fear that she had gone too far for even the headmaster's famous tolerance kept her silent.
When no one spoke at the headmaster's words, nor at his piercing gaze, he shook his head slightly, and carefully set down his tea cup.
"On the surface of things," he began, his continuing disappointment clear in his soft, hurt tone, "it looks like young Mr. Malfoy here, got married -- to someone other than you -- while simultaneously, or nearly so, creating a child with you."
He paused, clearly gathering his thoughts, and Hermione fidgeted restlessly as she barely resisted the urge to throw a quick, nervous glance in Draco's direction.
"And then we have you," he continued, sifting his gaze toward her, seemingly staring into her very soul. "I am sorry, Miss Granger, but during your years here at Hogwarts, you have firmly established a reputation for yourself. . . ."
Professor Snape snorted quietly.
Dumbledore ignored the sound, his intense eyes never even flickering from hers. "One you are blasting into non-existance with your current behavior.
Hermione stiffened, not entirely certain whether the headmaster had just insulted her, or not. She opted for simply playing dumb. "I don't understand," she said quietly. Which was actually true, as far as it went; she didn't understand what he'd just said, beyond the fact that was something about the way she was acting that had him suspicious that not all was as it seemed.
While the wizard was right, it certainly wasn't going to be her that verified it. She had absolutely no wish to test the boundaries of his generosity.
He sighed, shaking his head. "Very well, let me ask you this one thing, then. Would the bright, ambitious young lady that advocated for the rights of house elves so fervently that the house elves themselves protested, the same young lady that bullies her two male best friends into doing their homework, who stands up for anyone being wronged, regardless of the possible cost to herself, tell the man who apparently stands guilty of infidelity . . at the very least, 'you did nothing wrong'?"
Shit! He was right . . . if this had truly been as it seemed, she wouldn't have put up with it. She would have been furious, beyond furious, really. It was beginning to sink in that they really hadn't worked out the tiny details, and that this wasn't going to work.
"I simply meant that he wasn't wrong to marry Kathryn, that his father was the one who was in the wrong."
"Really?" the headmaster asked doubtfully, and Hermione panicked further.
Why weren't Draco or Professor Snape helping her?
"Even though he apparently did so, when you were already pregnant? If I'm any judge at all, you're at least 4 months along, if not more."
She had no response to that. She bit her lip, turning her gaze down to her lap, where her hands were clamped tightly together.
"No pat answer, Miss Granger?" the headmaster asked finally. "No reason I should believe you would align yourself with a young man that has not only proven to be untrustworthy, but to have a rather heinous disre--?"
A faint sound of denial from Draco cut off the headmaster's words and snapped Hermione's head up instantly. She found that not only did Draco have his lower lip firmly between his teeth, but the headmaster's intimidating gaze was no longer on her. Instead, it was on Draco.
"You would care to say something, Mr. Malfoy?"
"No, Sir."
Rolling his eyes, Professor Snape huffed, pulling himself upright, sitting tensely on the edge of his seat. "Perhaps, Albus, you should give some thought to the fact that sometimes it is better to leave possible secrets just that; secret."
"Indeed," Dumbledore replied, seemingly agreeing. "And if I were anyone other than the headmaster of this school, I would tend to accept that. I cannot, however, as I am responsible for everyone inside this castle, not just those inside this room."
Hermione slumped, and she couldn't help but notice that Draco had done the same. Even Professor Snape seemed . . . defeated; though, how she recognized that, she had no clue. The professor hadn't moved so much as an inch.
She was about to lose her battle with herself, when Draco began speaking softly.
"It's all my fault, Headmaster," he said.
Hermione dropped her gaze back to her lap, sighing in relief that it wasn't her to tell the tale. She listened, though, as Draco told the entire sordid story, from beginning to end. At one point, her eyes widened -- it felt like comically -- when Draco began revealing the uncertainty he'd gone through in the beginning.
Kathryn wasn't a pureblood?! Hermione wondered in amazement. She wasn't sure what it all meant, but she did know one thing with absolute certainty. Her entire world view of one Draco Malfoy had just shifted several meters left of center.
As Draco finished speaking, his voice trailing off into nothingness, Hermione was sure she was now doomed. She could feel the Headmaster's eyes on her as surely as if they were actually touching her. She dreaded looking up to see his disappointment, part of her telling herself to not look, to keep her eyes firmly down. She did look up, however, and was surprised to see not disappointment, but hurt.
What?
"I wish you had felt you could come to me, Miss Granger. I have obviously failed you, if you thought that such a selfless act would garnish you my anger, or punishment."
Hermione blinked. What? she thought numbly. I'm not in trouble?
A kind of hazy detachment filled her mind as relief -- of a sort -- flooded her. She began trembling as everything crashed in on her and she barely heard Professor Snape's angry words directed at the headmaster.
"It all goes to intent, Severus. You know that as well as I."
"Right," Professor Snape snapped angrily, "like little Miss Gryffindor herself couldn't possibly have any sort of alterior motive in doing what she did."
"Shut up!" Draco shouted, cutting off any reply the headmaster might have made.
Hermione's head snapped back up to stare incredulously. Not only that, but she was pretty sure she was going to give herself whiplash if she kept this up.
"Pardon me?" Professor Snape hissed, his voice soft and deadly, his entire stance stiff and offended as he turned slowly to face an angry Draco Malfoy.
Hermione gulped, utterly certain that war was about to break out in the headmaster's private quarters.
"Hermione saved my baby, at tremendous risk to herself. She gained nothing, could gain nothing. She saw what happened to Kathryn. I owe her!" And here, Draco began looking a little shell-shocked. "I'll not have you denegrating what she did."
Snape's eyes were narrowed as he glared at Draco, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. He sneered as he spoke. "And carrying the next Malfoy has absolutely no advantages, of course."
"Oh, yes, how could I forget. She now has the honor of being at the top of my father's hit list."
"Actually, I'm not," Hermione said suddenly, decisively, and immediately found herself the focus of three confused men. She almost faltered; almost changed her mind.
"Huh?" Draco asked inelegantly. "How exactly do you think you won't be at the top of my father's list?"
"Perhaps you would care to explain what you meant with that inane comment, Miss Granger?"
"I meant precisely what I said, Professor," Hermione responded, not caring a whit that it was a professor she was addressing. A plan was forming in her mind, one that, if she understood anything at all about wizarding laws, would help them all. Oh, it wouldn't help if Draco's father did, indeed, decide to disown him, but it would keep Draco out of an enraged father's hands if the older wizard decided on a far different route. "I am not carrying the next Malfoy. I am carrying the next Granger."
"What?!" twin Slytherin voices exclaimed in outraged anger.
Eyes, though once again dancing with the mirth the headmaster was so famous for, were still perplexed. "I find myself somewhat confused as well, Miss Granger, and would muchly appreciate you explaining your . . . explanation."
Fighting a rather maniacal grin, Hermione didn't respond directly. Instead, she asked a question. "Draco and I already discussed the possibility that his father might disown him for this." She ignored the surprised look on Professor Snape's face. "However, what if Draco's father doesn't do that. What if he decides, instead, to pull him home? He could do that, couldn't he?"
"Yes, Miss Granger, he could," the headmaster agreed solemnly. "Legally, there would be nothing I could do to stop him."
She could almost hear Draco's convulsive swallow.
"And if he were no longer, legally, a Malfoy?"
The light in the headmaster's eyes increased exponentially as understanding dawned. "Brilliant, Miss Granger, simply brilliant. Now, you only face the challenge of convincing young Mr. Malfoy of the necessity."
"What are you talking about?" Draco demanded through clenched teeth. "You promised!"
"I am breaking no promises!" Hermione snapped, angry that Draco would think that of her.
Draco sneered, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "We talked about this, Granger. We agreed that we would acknowledge the child as mine.
Oh!
"And we will," Hermione quickly assured.
Professor Snape scoffed. "And how pray-tell are you going to do that and declare the child a Granger? You are contradicting yourself. Typical, really."
"Severus," the headmaster cut in softly, before Hermione could retort, placing a hand on the potions professor's shoulder. "Let them work it out."
She ignored the frustrated, angry stare Professor Snape leveled at the headmaster, instead, focusing her attention on Draco, willing him to work it out. He was glaring at her, though, impatiently waiting. It didn't seem like he was going to figure it out anytime soon. She sighed. She was tired of always explaining.
Before she could, however, Professor Snape gasped. Both she and Draco whipped around to face the visibly startled professor. Utterly gobsmacked, the wizard stared at her. "You mean for him to take your name, instead of you taking his."
"What?!" Draco exclaimed incredulously, turning outraged eyes toward her. "Tell him he's insane, Granger."
Hermione huffed a short laugh. "You expect me to tell Professor Snape, the terror of Gryffindors everywhere, that he's insane," she repeated flatly.
"Yes!"
The wizard in question actually laughed. It was more of an amused snort, perhaps, but he laughed none-the-less.
Draco, on the other hand, let out a frustrated growl, not appreciating her humor. "Granger!"
She supposed she understood and smiled sadly, not entirely certain she could convince him. "He's not insane, Draco. In fact, he's right."
Fortunately, before Draco could explode again, the headmaster cut in gently.
"Perhaps we should all sit back down. I understand what Miss Granger is attempting, and if you allow it, Mr. Malfoy. It will work to keep you out of your father's hands."
Draco frowned, but did as suggested; though, he sat rigidly at the very edge of his seat. He looked in Professor Snape's direction, and Hermione couldn't help but follow his gaze.
The professor's expression was now guarded, and Hermione realized that his visible surprise was a rare thing she had witnessed. He seemed to be . . . plotting, however. Perhaps he realized the potential. She just hoped he would actually support her, despite his dislike of Gryffindors in general, and of her specifically. She didn't think Draco would be willing to do this, just on her and the headmaster's say-so, not if his head of house was against it.
x-x-x
Draco was furious. Actually, he didn't think there was a word strong enough for how he felt. He didn't like being played, and he was suddenly feeling very much like a pawn in some Gryffindor game in which the rules were completely incomprehensible. He sat utterly still, breathing deeply until he was relatively certain he could maintain control of himself. Somehow, he didn't think he would survive unscathed if he let loose a second time. The first time was something of a miracle, and he was rather grateful he hadn't been roasted by his house head even before he'd finished insanely ranting at the ultimate Slytherin.
"I'm sure one or the other of your parents has you well versed in tradtional marriage customs," the barmy headmaster suggested, drawing Draco from his self-absorption.
He nodded, barely managing to not roll his eyes. That was a rather obvious statement. What pureblood worthy of the claim wasn't well versed. "So what?"
"Tell me, then, what happens for the young lady in question in regard to familial status."
Frowning, wanting nothing to do with this utterly assinine conversation, he dutifully recited. "Once married, the young witch falls under the jurisdiction of the family she has married into, forsaking loyalty and affiliation with her former family in favor of the name she has adopted."
What that had to do with him, he couldn't figure out. He wasn't a witch.
"In simpler words," the headmaster added smoothly, "if she has yet to reach her majority, she no longer answers to her father, but to her husband, or if he is underage as well, her husband's father."
"Yes, so?" Draco agreed, barely keeping his tone the proper side of respectful. "In case you've forgotten, or haven't noticed. I'm not a witch."
"Mr. Malfoy, do not be deliberately obtuse!" Professor Snape snapped. "Your gender does not matter in the least. If you marry into the Granger family, instead of Miss Granger marrying into the Malfoy family. The two of you will essentially be . . . switching roles."
Draco blinked, looking back and forth between his head of house and the headmaster. "That would work?" he asked, stunned.
The headmaster simply nodded.
"Yes, it would," Snape said softly, continuing nearly under his breath, "loathe though I am to admit it."
Draco thought it through. Both of them seemed sure it would work. The idea sat very uneasily inside him. He didn't like it at all. In fact, he hated it; hated it more than marrying the chit in the first place.
"But I like being a Malfoy," he protested, his voice far more whiny than he would have preferred. "I don't want to be a," he shuddered, "Granger."
Snape rolled his eyes, and Draco resented that.
"And if your father disowns you? You won't have any name at all. None of you will." Professor Snape paused. "Not even your child."
Draco's heart clenched. He hadn't thought of that. The professor had truly struck a low blow. In effect, having no last name would render both him and his child -- regardless of its 'parents' marital status at its birth -- effectively illegitimate; bastards to higher wizarding society. Which was, surprisingly enough, worse than being a half-blood.
He couldn't do that to Kathryn's child. Grimacing, eyes closed, he whispered. "Alright, I agree."
