Summary: Draco Malfoy turns over on the pillow to face her and stares at her in what could only be called horror.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Hermione, Draco
Spoilers and/or Warnings: Post-DH, a bit AU. Implied sex and a fair amount of swearing.
Original Story: One Drunken Mistake by melfinatheblue
Notes: In the end, I took only the basic plot from the original story to turn it into this. I liked the idea of showing it from a different angle, showing a different possible ending, another outcome to all their squabbling. I wanted to stick the Hermione I've written about before into this situation and see what she would do - so I did. And this is what I got. Huge thanks go to my beta isiscolo , who made the story about ten times better than it would have been.
Miles To Go (The Cocoa At Midnight Remix)
The first thing Hermione thinks when she wakes up is why am I not in my apartment? That’s before she rolls over, when she has her second thought, which is when did Ron die his hair blonde?
Her third thought is a little more incoherent, but goes something like shit holy crap damn it all to effing bloody hell as she goes through her list of swear words trying to find something bad enough to suit this situation.
“What the hell?” is all that translates from her brain to her mouth, though, and Draco Malfoy turns over on the pillow to face her and stares at her in what could only be called horror.
“Oh, hell to the no,” he snaps out, and almost falls out of the bed as he scrambles away from her. “What did you do, Granger, spike my drink?”
“Oh, of course,” Hermione says, regaining a little bit of her cool now that he’s further away and not naked and under the same covers as her. “Because I was just that eager to jump your bones.” She sits up and wraps the blanket around her, reaching for her shirt as Draco yanks his pants on. “Bollocks. That’s illegal, you idiot.”
“Well, pardon me for trying to rationalize this!” Draco barks. “How’s this for a start. You don’t talk about this, I don’t talk about this, and this whole situation all goes very quietly far far away. Like?”
“Love,” Hermione says. “God, there must have been magic involved.”
“That,” Draco points out, “is talking about it.”
“Oh, shut up.” Hermione pulls on her skirt under the covers and then stands up, leaving the blanket on the bed. “So, this is your apartment?”
“Yeah,” Draco says behind her as she walks through into the small sitting room. “You can floo from the fireplace to wherever you need to go – home, Ron’s, I don’t really give a damn. Powder’s in the can marked ‘coffee.’” Hermione uncaps the lid and takes a handful of powder. About to toss it on the fire, she pauses and considers a horrible idea.
“What?” He looks as unsettled as she imagines she must, which is, surprisingly, a little calming.
“Did we use protection?” There is a very long pause and Draco goes pale.
“Oh, God, I can’t remember,” he says, rubbing at his forehead. “Fucking hell, this is mad.”
“Okay,” Hermione says, taking a deep breath and sitting down on the nearest available chair. “So then, what do you remember? Because everything after my first drink last night is really fuzzy.”
“The last thing I remember is you slapping me,” Draco murmurs, hand covering his face. “I’m… not at all sure what for, though.”
“Probably a good reason.”
“What were you even doing at that party?” Draco asks. “I mean, half the people there were Slytherins, the other half were mostly Ravenclaws, and-”
“And they were all people involved in the Ministry of Magic. I’m looking for a job, Draco. When you want a job in the Ministry, you mingle a lot and hope someone notices you, and you don't notice petty things like Houses people used to be in at school.”
“Getting laid is not getting noticed,” Draco says. “At least, not in a good way.” Hermione buries her face in her hands for a moment, and then gets up.
“Look, I can’t have this conversation right now,” she says. “I’m going home. If I end up pregnant, I will be suing you for child support before you can so much as blink, do you understand me?”
“You won’t need to sue, I’m not that much of a bastard. Which I seem to recall you calling me just before you slapped me, actually,” he adds. Hermione rolls her eyes and tosses the floo powder onto the fire and steps in, giving her address. The last thing she sees of his apartment is Draco burying his head in his arms on the counter.
Malfoy, I'm pregnant. Joy all around, etc. Meet me at St. Mungo's at 3:30 this Friday so we can run a paternity spell, make sure the child's yours and figure out how we aren't going to get killed by our significant others.
Plotting your doom,
“So you’re carrying it to term?” Draco says as soon as he sees her, and she rolls her eyes.
“Could you be more crass? But yes, I am. I’m sorry but you’ll just have to figure out how to tell Pansy.” He sits down in the next chair.
“Have you told Ron?”
“Yeah,” Hermione whispers.
“He understands.” She doesn’t feel a need to tell Malfoy (Draco effing Malfoy, oh Merlin) about how quiet Ron had been, and she doesn’t want to think about what Ron is probably telling Harry right now. She licks her lips and is wondering what else they have to say to each other when a nurse comes out.
“Granger, Hermione,” the nurse says crisply, and Hermione gets up, surprised when Draco places a hand on her elbow to steady her for a moment.
“Thank you,” she says stiffly. There is no answer from Draco as they walk into the examining room together.
“So, want me to make an honest woman of you?”
“What, marry me?” Hermione snorts. “Yeah, not happening.”
“Oh, good. Pansy would be furious, and I’m really not that attracted to you.”
“Nice to see you’ve got your priorities in order, Malfoy.”
“It’s a talent of mine.”
"I hate hospitals." Draco shifts in his seat.
"It's just a routine check up, Draco, and it's for me anyway. Stop being such a baby."
"I don't like the atmosphere," he complains, and gets up to pace for a little. "Wait, three months. You should be able to tell gender by now, right? Are you going to find out?"
"No, I like the idea of excitement,” Hermione says. “Things are so much more fun when there’s a surprise in store, don’t you think?”
“Honestly, I’ve never held that opinion, but you’re the one getting rather huge."
She narrows her eyes. “Are you asking me to punch you?”
“Do you want to go out for coffee once the appointment’s over?” he asks, completely ignoring her question. She eyes him, taken aback and suddenly suspicious.
“In a strictly non-dating capacity, yes?” she asks.
“Yes! I mean, I’m in love with Pansy, all right? True, there are still a few arranged marriages in pureblood families, but mine isn’t one of them. But you and I are having a child together, and therefore we should be friends, if for nothing else than the sake of the child.”
“You should have been a Ravenclaw,” Hermione says, snickering. “You’re like Spock! ‘This is logical, therefore.’”
“Oh, you purebloods are missing out on so much,” Hermione says. “Yes, I’ll do coffee with you, if you promise to watch a movie with me.”
“Don’t ask, just do,” Hermione says sternly.
“Fine,” Draco says, shooting her a glance as he scuffs his shoe on the floor.
“I am not sulking,” Draco snaps. “And you get way too much pleasure out of being rude to me.”
“What can I say? For someone trained in manners from their infancy, you give in with horrible grace.”
“Granger, Hermione!” the nurse calls, and Hermione accepts him helping her up again, even if she doesn't need it quite yet.
“It’s freezing,” Hermione grumbles as they make their way into the coffee shop.
“It is also February,” Draco says. “Any other obvious things you wanted to point out?”
“You can be insufferable sometimes.”
“What can I say? I was taught from infancy to be a gigantic prat.”
“And now you’re making fun of me.”
“Oh no! Whatever are you going to do?” Draco says with a grin.
Hermione eyes the menu. “Suddenly, I want the Irish Whiskey Mint Latte,” she says.
“It doesn’t actually have whiskey in it.”
“Shut up, Malfoy!”
“What are you doing in my apartment at three in the morning?”
“I couldn’t sleep, and I’m cranky and hormonal, and I’m starting to feel effing huge, and this is all your fault!”
“Oh.” He leans against the door jam and blinks inelegantly at her. “So, would you like some cocoa?”
“Time travel,” Draco says after Hermione explains the original TV show. “You are making me watch a movie about time travel in space. How is this conducive to a friendship between us for the sake of the baby?”
“For God’s sake just watch,” Hermione orders. “Besides, you’ll like Spock. He’s the only person I’ve ever heard say ‘Live long and prosper’ and make it sound like ‘Jump off a clip into a raging fire and die’.”
Draco considers this statement. “You’ve heard people say ‘Live long and prosper’?”
“Hermione, are you going to make a habit of flooing into my apartment at ungodly hours of the morning?”
“What, worried for your reputation?” She spins a little and then flops onto a chair, ungainly and grinning. “Ron and I are back together!”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Draco says. “I’m really pleased, Hermione. I really am.”
“He told me he was sure it was nothing serious between us and we were probably Confunded or something, and that he’d overreacted at the beginning and taken too long to figure things out and he was sorry about that, and he was glad that I was getting to know you platonically - and even though he was lying through his teeth about the last bit it’s still wonderful and I’m so happy!”
“The only thing I’m confused about is how this led to you being in my apartment at two in the morning. Again.”
“Oh, that. I wanted to tell you, because I know that even though you haven’t said anything you’ve felt guilty. You know.”
“I most certainly do not."
“I never asked. I meant to, I just… forgot. How did Pansy take it? I mean, you two are still together, I know, but… was she angry?”
“Well, rather.” Finally he stirs from his position against the kitchen wall. “Would you like some cocoa?”
“What, is cocoa your substitute for tea? You’re all ‘Look, I’m not a typical Englishman, I drink cocoa all the time instead of tea!’”
“You have no room to talk. I happen to know you yourself almost never drink tea.”
“But not on purpose, to avoid stereotyping, which is definitely your intention.”
“Oh, really,” Draco scoffs with a smile.
“Yes, really," Hermione says, but she can't help an answering grin spreading across her face.
“Should have known it would be a girl,” Draco sniffs, but he’s smiling proudly and Hermione grins back happily as she leans against her pillows.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” she says.
“She’s going to have your hair,” Draco answers, still smiling, and Hermione grimaces.
“God, I hope not."
“Yes, she’s beautiful,” he reassures her. “Even Ron thinks so - grudgingly, mind you. He brought flowers before he had to head back to work, and even had some of the approximately three gallons of cocoa I made. Oh, and Harry dropped in with him and said there is no way in hell he’s being her godfather - because of the orphan issue with Teddy, I gathered. Something about jinxes and destiny again.”
“Harry comes with built-in issues about responsibility,” Hermione sighs. “Well, I was thinking Ron anyway.”
“Yeah, he accepted already.”
“How’d you know I was going to ask him?”
“Because I was thinking Pansy for godmother, blessings on all sides, one big happy family.”
“I laugh,” Hermione mutters.
“Funny, you aren’t actually laughing.”
“Mentally,” Hermione assures him. “I am laughing mentally.”
"Mental is right," he says, and dodges just in time.