A/N. Huge thanks to Madelene3666 for the beta. I'm sorry my chapter updates seem to take so long but I'm a busy girl. The Oh Dear God Smut cookie will be posted just as soon as I can catch Mynuet on IM to okay it with her.
So Enjoy.
If she thought the Howler was bad, the aftermath proved to be a whole lot worse. Whispers followed her everywhere she went, and out of the corner of her eye she saw people looking and pointing. 'There goes that pregnant Gryffindor. Who do you suppose the father is? Do you think it's Harry Potter?' The rumours flew faster than Thestrals, and before long the only topic of conversation throughout the entire student body was on the subject of Ginny and her baby.
Her meeting with Madam Pomfrey had only served to further dissuade her from the idea of a termination, especially after she had been informed in graphic detail of what exactly was involved. She had not had a chance to speak to Draco since the morning of the Howler, but she knew she would have to soon - he was behaving suspiciously; not taunting the Gryffs, not being rude or bossy, and giving her meaningful looks every time he was anywhere near her. Someone would twig if she didn't put him out of his misery. Harry had taken to questioning her quietly on a regular basis, adding incendiary fuel to the already rampant speculations. Aside from Harry, the only other person that knew of her odd relationship with Malfoy was Luna, and she had already told Ginny that a couple of Ravenclaw boys had set up a betting book. She'd even joked that she was tempted to place the entire contents of her savings account on Draco Malfoy, just to see their faces when the truth was finally revealed.
Thus far, the list contained the entire set of Gryffindor Seventh-year boys - Harry, Neville, Dean and Seamus, minus Ron, obviously, half of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Sixth-years - Colin Creevy, Thomas Mallan, Simon Carter, Michael Corner, Jason DeMorran and Philip Crispin, as well as a few wildcards such as Justin Finch-Fletchley (whom Ginny had it on good authority was, in fact, gay), Zacharias Smith, Terry Boot, and, obviously for entertainment value, Snape. Currently, the top five in descending order were Harry, Neville, Dean, Colin and Justin. If she hadn't been feeling so utterly wretched, she would have found it funny - they were so far off the mark, they were pointing in the opposite direction.
Her morning sickness was fast becoming unbearable. She had thought that trying to hide it at home had been bad enough, but now that she didn't need to hide it, it seemed only to get worse. Ron was no help at all, piling her plate high with greasy bacon and sausages because, as he took an almost vindictive delight in informing half of Gryffindor, she was 'eating for two now'.
Curtailing her drifting thoughts on morning sickness and betting books, she focussed back on the problem in hand - trying to work out how to tell Draco that she was going to keep the baby. That would mean that they would be parents, that she would have to carry her baby to term, give birth to it, care for it, feed it... her mind wandered off at a tangent again, her mind’s eye bringing forth images of her sitting in Transfiguration, bare breasted, nursing an infant, and trying to take notes. Her concentration span was shot away these days.
She no longer thought of her baby as an 'it', she was having a baby, her baby, Draco's baby, and she felt herself growing attached to the idea. She was already beginning to show to a certain degree, and her clothes were becoming uncomfortably tight. Hermione had helped her with a few temporary tailoring charms, but she was going to have to speak to her mother about some larger skirts, although she was reluctant to draw her mother's attention to her pregnancy any more than was absolutely necessary.
Rounding the corner of the corridor that led to the Gryffindor tower, she was immediately startled by someone grabbing her wrist and pulling her through a side door into an empty classroom. Ripping herself free, she looked around wildly, brandishing her wand.
"Don't worry, Gin, you can put that away," came Draco's unmistakable drawl.
She sighed and tucked her wand behind her ear - she had used to keep it in her pocket, but now she was nervous of keeping it too close to the baby.
"How did the appointment go?" he asked.
"Eurgh, I never want to have to hear ANY of what she told me ever again. EVER!" she exclaimed, before reaching out to hug him.
Taking her in his arms, he rubbed her back gently. "What did you... decide?"
"I... I... I'm keeping the baby," she stated at last, hoping he wouldn't push her away. He seemed to sag against her in relief, squeezing her fractionally tighter, before letting her go.
"I'm ... glad ... I think."
"I'm scared."
"I know. But I told you, I'm not the sort of guy that's going to let you down, you know that."
"I know," she said, squeezing his hand.
"So what now?" he asked.
"I don't know. Go on as we always have, and cross any bridges when we come to them I guess."
"You know that if the child's a boy, I'm going to have to come forward, don't you?"
"What did I just say about crossing bridges when we come to them?"
"I know, I know, but..."
She silenced him with a kiss. "No buts. I don't want to hear it right now."
He kissed her back with enthusiasm - trying to convey the longing he still felt for her even after recent events. He could feel the small, firm protrusion of her abdomen and was overwhelmed by the emotions that it evoked in him. His child was growing inside her - a unique combination of Weasley and Malfoy that would rely on its parents to keep it alive long enough for it to have a life of its own, feelings of its own and, perhaps in the future, children of its own. The brief but startling burst of foresight shocked Draco. No longer was he just himself, son of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black, but his life was now inexorably linked to another life in the most profound way possible. He was going to be a father. The knowledge brought a lump to his throat, and he held Ginny more fiercely than ever before.
The arrhythmic stomping of hundreds of student feet and the discordant crescendo of noise associated with the intermingled voices of many different conversations halted their peaceful interlude, and they leapt from each other’s arms as though burned. Gathering their respective bookbags, they waited in awkward silence for the sounds of the passing students to diminish into the distance before they slipped carefully from the room and strode off in purposefully opposite directions.
As she wandered down towards the Great Hall for lunch, she heard the sounds of Ron, Harry and Hermione having some sort of spirited debate. Or, rather, Ron was spiritedly debating with Harry. As she drew closer, she could make out their words and suddenly became aware of a whole new problem that had added itself to the already gargantuan burdens she carried:
"But why?" Ron whined, "It's not as though I've not seen it before. Why are you suddenly so possessive of it?"
"Just drop it Ron!" Harry said, clearly exasperated. "My reasons are my own. This is my map, written by my father and I don't see as it's any business of yours as to who I choose to allow to use it. You got it dirty the last time you borrowed it and that smudge over the Astronomy Tower is still not completely fixed. Apart from the cloak, it's the last thing of my Dad's that I own and I want to keep it in as good a condition as I can. Is that too much to want?"
"No, but remember that it did belong to Fred and George first. Honestly it's not as though you can actually see people and what they're up to... can you?"
"Ron, but you see who is together and how close their dots are and I think it is a breach of privacy to let too many people see it."
"You weren't saying that last year when you were using it to sneak off and meet that Hufflepuff that you didn't think we knew about."
"Ron, stop it!" Hermione cried. "This is getting us nowhere. It's Harry's map and if he doesn't want to share then that is his prerogative, and I agree that it has begun to look much tattier recently and it is only fair that Harry try to preserve it as much as possible. Although I suppose a couple of well-researched preservation and bibliographic restoration charms might help..."
Suddenly realising that Harry's refusal to lend Ron the map was more likely to do with her and the potential discovery of any meetings she may have with Draco than with any deterioration of the map's condition, she squared her shoulders, raised her chin and marched around the corner as though she had not been hanging back eavesdropping.
"Oh, hi, Gin!" Hermione exclaimed on sighting her. Rushing towards her, the bushy-haired girl linked her arm through Ginny's and purposefully directed them away from Harry and Ron. Obviously Hermione was glad she had found some way of leaving the brewing row behind.
Harry, Ron and Hermione all knew of her intention to keep the baby and for the most part they were supportive, although Ron did voice the loud opinion that he had hoped that it might be either Bill or Charlie that made him an uncle first. Nevertheless, ever since she had told them, Hermione had taken to pestering her about writing to her mother to tell her of her decision and to ask about some new clothes, and this occasion was no exception. Rolling her eyes, she made agreeing noises as Hermione waxed lyrical about how essential it was for an expectant mother to dress comfortably, whilst simultaneously leading them slowly down the corridor and away from Ron's blustering.
Eventually, she heard Ron stomp away and Harry's quick footsteps as he strove to catch up. When he reached them, Ginny shot him a grateful look over the top of Hermione's head but he just scowled and avoided looking her in the eye. When they reached the Great Hall Ron was nowhere to be seen and Harry immediately found himself a seat with Seamus, Dean and Neville, leaving Hermione and Ginny sitting further down the table where, as Hermione put it, it was 'less boisterous'.
Scanning the hall as generally as she could, she was mildly comforted to see Draco sitting with Crabbe and Goyle who appeared to be gesticulating wildly over some parchment. Every time she saw Draco with Pansy Parkinson or one of the other Slytherin girls, an irrational bubble of jealousy and resentment welled up inside. She knew it was the fault of her hormones, but nevertheless it cost her a great deal of self control to remain in her seat when Pansy draped herself over her boyfriend, and she always breathed a sigh of relief to see him in all-male company. As much as she knew that Draco had to maintain appearances, it still burned when Pansy abandoned whatever poor boy she was terrorising that day in order to possessively assert her perceived place at Draco's side. He looked up from his dinner and they locked gazes for a brief second that made her heart pound and something unbearably pleasant to twist inside her chest. He still made her breathless just by looking at her. Their brief moment of silent communication was broken as Ron scrambled into the seat opposite Ginny, breaking her eye contact with Draco. Only when Ron had loaded his plate, pestered his sister to eat properly, and begun to stuff his face, did she dare to look up at him again, only to find that he had gone.
A few moments later, one of the school owls glided from the rafters and alighted in front of Ginny, holding his leg out with a piece of fine-quality parchment attached to it with a piece of green ribbon. Ron narrowed his eyes suspiciously as she quickly removed the missive and stuffed it in her pocket.
"Who's that from, Ginny?" he demanded.
"How should I know?” she retorted, "I've not opened it yet."
"Is it from Him?" Ron hissed. Clearly his bad mood had not been assuaged by a hearty meal.
"And which Him would that be Ronald?" Ginny asked calmly, "there appear to be a great number of Him's in this school. You'll have to be more specific."
"Don't play games Ginny, you know who I mean."
"If you mean 'is it from the father of my baby?', then yes, quite possibly. But as I said, I've not opened it yet and shall decline to do so until I have attained a measure of privacy," Ginny replied primly, buttering a slice of bread, folding it into a sandwich and filling it with salt and vinegar crisps. Raising her eyebrows at her near-apoplectic brother, she bit the corner off of her sandwich and chewed defiantly. Hermione was whispering furiously across the table at Ron commanding him to leave it be, and with a snort of disgust he glared at his sister, picked up his plate and went to make peace with Harry.
"So who is it from, Ginny?" Hermione ventured.
With a weary sigh, Ginny pulled the debated note from her pocket, untied the ribbon and unfurled it. She knew damn well who it was from, and she also knew that he would never sign his name nor leave any mark of authorship on the page, so she was quite safe in the knowledge that seeing it would give Hermione no clues whatsoever, yet would serve to satiate her curiosity and divert the topic of conversation away from the decidedly uncomfortable subject of maternity knickers.
The parchment was an elegant white square that even felt expensive, with a green wax seal that bore an ambiguous and generic fleur-de-lis. The words on the parchment were few and were written in a standard and unremarkable Black ink:
We need to talk properly re: our previous discussion. Same time. Same Place.
Hermione looked a little chagrined for a moment before disguising her disappointment with great aplomb and returning with damnable tenacity to her previous speculations on maternity underwear.
After twenty cringeworthy minutes during which Hermione extolled the virtues of properly supporting the growing bump in the latter stages of pregnancy, and during which Ginny worried about why Hermione would know such things, Ginny excused herself to use the toilet, one of the only times that she was grateful for her vastly increased need to urinate.
What Hermione didn't know was that by 'Same time. Same Place,' Draco meant that he would meet her in a small furnished room in the dungeons that Slytherin prefects had been using for centuries as a place to entertain their illicit trysts, half an hour after the note was received.
As she hurried out of the hall, she saw Ron alternately glowering at her and shooting pointed looks at Harry. Sincerely hoping he wouldn't follow her, she was relieved when she reached the nearest bathroom unaccosted. If there was one thing she hated the most about the actual logistics of being pregnant, it was the dire and unpredictable consequences it was having on her necessary bodily functions. A month into the summer holidays when her lack of period and clearly identifiable morning sickness had forced her to consider the possibility that she might be pregnant, her first terrifying thoughts had been how to tell her family immediately followed by memories of every conversation in which her mother had ever mentioned the bone-wrenching, gut-tearing agony of childbirth. She had never even stopped to consider how uncomfortable it would be to have a person growing inside her, and her unabashed and rather loud sigh of relief when she finally shut herself in a cubicle and sat down prompted several uncomfortable coughs from other stall occupants. After washing her hands, she checked her watch and realised that she had five minutes to reach the dungeon room. Hurrying out of the bathroom, she came face-to-chest with Ron who had clearly been waiting for her.
"What do you want, Ron? I've got things to do."
"I was at a loose end and thought I'd accompany my sister to class - given her delicate condition." Ron was being suspiciously pleasant, especially after his display of temper in the hall not half an hour ago. Eyeing him shrewdly, she said, "Well I'm fine Ron, I don't need accompanying anywhere. Please leave me alone." With that, she began to walk away from him.
"Oh no you don't, Ginny, Hermione thinks you're going to meet Him."
Stopping in her tracks she turned back to him. "So what if I am? It's not like there's much more he can do to me, is there? Why do you care so much if I see him? I would have thought that him wanting to be involved was something to be encouraged, but you seem hell-bent on keeping me away from him and I think it's bloody stupid and pathetic."
"Oh no, Gin, you've got it all wrong. I'm not trying to stop you meeting him; I am trying to find out who he is. I owe him a 'brotherly talking-to'," Ron replied with an unpleasant smirk. "Did I or did I not tell you that I considered it my duty as a brother to avenge your honour?"
If she wasn't so blindingly frustrated by his interference, she would have laughed. He sounded so old-fashioned that the idea could only have come from her mother. Glancing at her watch, she saw that she was going to be late.
"Late for something, Gin?" Ron asked with maddening jocularity.
"Nothing that can't wait," she replied, raising her eyebrows at him and daring him to call her on it.
At that moment, Draco emerged from the dungeon corridor - he'd been waiting for her and watching the bathroom door. Seeing Ginny with her brother, he immediately grasped the situation and knew that they would have to find time to talk later. Curling his lips in a sneer at the Weasel's heavy-handed approach, he leaned against the wall, affecting nonchalance, to watch what would happen next. It was hopefully apparently obvious to any Slytherin that came past that he appeared to be waiting for Crabbe and Goyle to finish stuffing their faces, however seemingly not to the apoplectic Gryffindor idiot who saw him standing there and chose to transfer his merrily boiling bad mood away from his sister and onto 'innocent' bystanders.
Having become exasperated with Ginny who was currently wondering why Harry and Hermione hadn't appeared to drag Ron to class, Ron seemed to be in the mood to lash out stupidly and irrationally, and to Ginny's horror, he chose Draco, whom Ginny had not realised had been standing there.
"Enjoying the show, Malfoy? Ron spat.
Draco raised his eyebrows and examined the fingernails on his right hand with an air of amused boredom.
"Well, if you will insist on making a spectacle of yourself, Weasley..." he drawled.
"Ron, leave it," Ginny hissed, tugging on his arm. The last thing she needed was for Draco to lose his temper and say something revealing.
"Yes, Weasel-king, listen to the Weaslette and run along now. It's no fun exchanging insults with one of lesser wit. It'd be more entertaining to spar with your little sister."
The double meaning of Draco's words was not lost on Ginny and memories of their last sparring match and the subsequent retribution meted out by his dexterous fingers brought a blush to her cheeks.
Ron drew his wand, ignoring Ginny’s frantic tugging at his sleeve. Quite a crowd of curious spectators had begun to congregate in the hallway, and furious muttering broke out as to the likely outcome of this one-on-one between Ron and Malfoy. Usually whenever there was a magical confrontation between the Gryffindors and Slytherins, Ron was never alone, and everyone still referred to the only time Ron had hexed Malfoy alone as the 'Slug incident'.
"Think you're big and clever, do you, Malfoy? Threatening my sister makes you feel good does it? I suppose to Death Eater scum like you it'd be like killing two birds with one stone."
Ginny winced, and the hall went silent as the implications of Ron's insult filtered through their collective minds.
Draco raised a sceptical eyebrow, his gaze flickering between Ron and Ginny, who was struggling not to look at him. He chose his words carefully and paused for dramatic effect before saying "Despite what you may think of me, Weasley, I would never stoop so low as to hex a pregnant woman and for you to even voice such an opinion only further demonstrates your ignorance and narrow-mindedness." With that, Draco turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Ron red-faced and stammering in the wake of such an eloquent and publicly humiliating put-down. Even Professor McGonagall, who had stopped to observe the scene closely lest her intervention be required, was watching the retreat of the blond Slytherin with undisguised approval, and the mutterings of the surrounding students clearly demonstrated who had emerged on top out of that particular confrontation. Ginny felt an irrational surge of pride that Draco had so subtly delivered such a stinging insult and left Ron standing without wands having been drawn, rules disobeyed or anyone being hurt. It was, for lack of a better description, beautifully done.
With a scathing glare at the mortified Ron, she turned away from him to see Harry and Hermione watching them from across the hall. Hermione looked stricken, as though somehow Ron's humiliation was a shared burden. Harry, however, bore a thoughtful expression and she thought she detected the briefest hint of curious surprise flicker in his eyes. She was saved from having to speak to any of them, however, by Luna marching up and grabbing her arm. She was wearing an odd-looking necklace from which hung a few Muggle safety-pins, and her earrings, similarly adorned, were jangling as she walked.
"Come on, Ginny, we've got Herbology now," she said in a loud voice, "and Professor Sprout promised to help me plant those Defkangle seeds Daddy brought me back from his trip to inner Mongolia."
As Ginny was being rescued by Luna, she risked a backward glance and saw Draco stood at the top of the staircase. 'I'm sorry,' she mouthed silently, willing him to understand her, and just before the main door obscured her view, she thought she saw him nod in acknowledgment. Apologies seemed to dominate their relationship of late and as she followed Luna across the grounds towards the greenhouses, she couldn't help but wish that everything was back the way it had been before. Rubbing the small mound of her stomach, she fought back the tears as the traitorous thought entered her mind that she hoped she would miscarry. Before the thought was even fully formed in her mind, she was already rebelling against it and her whimpered cry of 'No' prompted curious glances from the surrounding students. She didn't want the baby to die, not really, she just wished desperately that it hadn't happened in the first place. Feeling sick and miserable, she trudged into the greenhouse and squeezed through the throng of students, trying to ignore the pointed staring of her classmates as her gently rounded abdomen made slithering into a space unobtrusively near-impossible to accomplish.
As Draco ascended the staircase away from the pitiful scene with Ron Weasley, he couldn't help but smirk in self-congratulation. Not only had he delivered a blistering put-down, but he had managed to publicly embarrass the red-headed fool without risking Ginny's ire by hexing her brother. His satisfied mood only lasted until he reached the top of the staircase and turned back to watch how the rest of the scene would unfold. Ginny was being forcibly dragged towards the front doors by that ditzy blonde girl she seemed to be friends with, and Potter was glaring at him in a disconcerting way. Hatred, revulsion, spite, malice or anger he could have handled with a sardonic sneer, but the curious expression was unsettling, and Malfoys didn't like to be unsettled. Turning away from the compelling force of Potter's gaze, he bumped into Professor Snape, who was also eyeing him speculatively and flickering his gaze between Draco, the 'Golden Trio' and Ginny and the blonde.
With a mumbled apology, Draco sidestepped the potions master and continued up the stairs. It was only after he'd climbed three moving staircases and walked along six corridors that he stopped to catch his breath. He wasn't sure how or why, but it always seemed as though Snape knew what you were thinking, and he felt an inexplicable surge of guilt and shame when he thought about Snape knowing about Ginny and the baby. Come to think of it, whenever he thought about Ginny and the baby, he was treated to these unaccustomed feelings. When he lay in bed at night, listening to the snores of his dorm-mates and thinking about all the implications and ramifications of his impending fatherhood, he couldn't help but wish that it didn't exist.
Not that he wanted her to kill it, obviously, but things would be so much easier if this wasn't happening. He was losing sleep over this whole business, and when he did finally manage to drift into a doze at about three in the morning, his sleep was fitful and punctuated with dreams of Ginny underneath him, her face gasping and rapturous. He usually woke sweating profusely and with an aching hard-on that took a good fifteen minutes to dispel. He was desperate for her, aching to hold her the way he used to, but now because of the baby, everything was so much more complicated. He wanted to make love to her, to kiss her, touch her and taste her, but he was afraid she'd push him away, afraid he'd somehow hurt the fragile life she carried inside. He was so frustrated and confused and his mind was walking itself around in circles; Did he love her? Did she love him? Could they cope with the burdens thrust upon them?
He knew that if the child was a girl, he would have no obligations other than moral ones. If it was a girl, would he, could he abandon her to single-motherhood? The fact that he was even considering it brought fresh waves of remorse. If the child was a boy, then it was already magically bound into the position of heir, whether he was married to the mother or not - that was why there was so much importance placed upon pureblood marriages. It was why conception charms and aids were so frequently employed by families to ensure that the single night of consummation required of the most often arranged marriages would be fruitful and produce an heir quickly, thus safeguarding the family estates and monies from the spawn of illicit liaisons. He also knew that if the child was a girl, they would have time in which to make decisions and plans, but if it was a boy, then all would have to be revealed, because it wouldn't be long before the child's name appeared on various magically endowed and legally binding documents. The name would also appear on the family tapestries too, but only after the naming ceremony, when certain spells and enchantments related to bloodline would be invoked.
It was all so complicated. He didn't want to have to deal with this. If only he'd kept his cock in his pants, none of this would have happened. Perhaps if you'd not fucked a Weasley, none of this would have happened. With a sigh, he tipped his head back against the wall and tried not to dwell, once again, on how their contraception had failed. The fact was that it had, and until such time as he was forced into making a decision about whether to stick by her or abandon her, he was doomed to suffer these eternally tormenting cycles of thought.
So Enjoy.
If she thought the Howler was bad, the aftermath proved to be a whole lot worse. Whispers followed her everywhere she went, and out of the corner of her eye she saw people looking and pointing. 'There goes that pregnant Gryffindor. Who do you suppose the father is? Do you think it's Harry Potter?' The rumours flew faster than Thestrals, and before long the only topic of conversation throughout the entire student body was on the subject of Ginny and her baby.
Her meeting with Madam Pomfrey had only served to further dissuade her from the idea of a termination, especially after she had been informed in graphic detail of what exactly was involved. She had not had a chance to speak to Draco since the morning of the Howler, but she knew she would have to soon - he was behaving suspiciously; not taunting the Gryffs, not being rude or bossy, and giving her meaningful looks every time he was anywhere near her. Someone would twig if she didn't put him out of his misery. Harry had taken to questioning her quietly on a regular basis, adding incendiary fuel to the already rampant speculations. Aside from Harry, the only other person that knew of her odd relationship with Malfoy was Luna, and she had already told Ginny that a couple of Ravenclaw boys had set up a betting book. She'd even joked that she was tempted to place the entire contents of her savings account on Draco Malfoy, just to see their faces when the truth was finally revealed.
Thus far, the list contained the entire set of Gryffindor Seventh-year boys - Harry, Neville, Dean and Seamus, minus Ron, obviously, half of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Sixth-years - Colin Creevy, Thomas Mallan, Simon Carter, Michael Corner, Jason DeMorran and Philip Crispin, as well as a few wildcards such as Justin Finch-Fletchley (whom Ginny had it on good authority was, in fact, gay), Zacharias Smith, Terry Boot, and, obviously for entertainment value, Snape. Currently, the top five in descending order were Harry, Neville, Dean, Colin and Justin. If she hadn't been feeling so utterly wretched, she would have found it funny - they were so far off the mark, they were pointing in the opposite direction.
Her morning sickness was fast becoming unbearable. She had thought that trying to hide it at home had been bad enough, but now that she didn't need to hide it, it seemed only to get worse. Ron was no help at all, piling her plate high with greasy bacon and sausages because, as he took an almost vindictive delight in informing half of Gryffindor, she was 'eating for two now'.
Curtailing her drifting thoughts on morning sickness and betting books, she focussed back on the problem in hand - trying to work out how to tell Draco that she was going to keep the baby. That would mean that they would be parents, that she would have to carry her baby to term, give birth to it, care for it, feed it... her mind wandered off at a tangent again, her mind’s eye bringing forth images of her sitting in Transfiguration, bare breasted, nursing an infant, and trying to take notes. Her concentration span was shot away these days.
She no longer thought of her baby as an 'it', she was having a baby, her baby, Draco's baby, and she felt herself growing attached to the idea. She was already beginning to show to a certain degree, and her clothes were becoming uncomfortably tight. Hermione had helped her with a few temporary tailoring charms, but she was going to have to speak to her mother about some larger skirts, although she was reluctant to draw her mother's attention to her pregnancy any more than was absolutely necessary.
Rounding the corner of the corridor that led to the Gryffindor tower, she was immediately startled by someone grabbing her wrist and pulling her through a side door into an empty classroom. Ripping herself free, she looked around wildly, brandishing her wand.
"Don't worry, Gin, you can put that away," came Draco's unmistakable drawl.
She sighed and tucked her wand behind her ear - she had used to keep it in her pocket, but now she was nervous of keeping it too close to the baby.
"How did the appointment go?" he asked.
"Eurgh, I never want to have to hear ANY of what she told me ever again. EVER!" she exclaimed, before reaching out to hug him.
Taking her in his arms, he rubbed her back gently. "What did you... decide?"
"I... I... I'm keeping the baby," she stated at last, hoping he wouldn't push her away. He seemed to sag against her in relief, squeezing her fractionally tighter, before letting her go.
"I'm ... glad ... I think."
"I'm scared."
"I know. But I told you, I'm not the sort of guy that's going to let you down, you know that."
"I know," she said, squeezing his hand.
"So what now?" he asked.
"I don't know. Go on as we always have, and cross any bridges when we come to them I guess."
"You know that if the child's a boy, I'm going to have to come forward, don't you?"
"What did I just say about crossing bridges when we come to them?"
"I know, I know, but..."
She silenced him with a kiss. "No buts. I don't want to hear it right now."
He kissed her back with enthusiasm - trying to convey the longing he still felt for her even after recent events. He could feel the small, firm protrusion of her abdomen and was overwhelmed by the emotions that it evoked in him. His child was growing inside her - a unique combination of Weasley and Malfoy that would rely on its parents to keep it alive long enough for it to have a life of its own, feelings of its own and, perhaps in the future, children of its own. The brief but startling burst of foresight shocked Draco. No longer was he just himself, son of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black, but his life was now inexorably linked to another life in the most profound way possible. He was going to be a father. The knowledge brought a lump to his throat, and he held Ginny more fiercely than ever before.
The arrhythmic stomping of hundreds of student feet and the discordant crescendo of noise associated with the intermingled voices of many different conversations halted their peaceful interlude, and they leapt from each other’s arms as though burned. Gathering their respective bookbags, they waited in awkward silence for the sounds of the passing students to diminish into the distance before they slipped carefully from the room and strode off in purposefully opposite directions.
As she wandered down towards the Great Hall for lunch, she heard the sounds of Ron, Harry and Hermione having some sort of spirited debate. Or, rather, Ron was spiritedly debating with Harry. As she drew closer, she could make out their words and suddenly became aware of a whole new problem that had added itself to the already gargantuan burdens she carried:
"But why?" Ron whined, "It's not as though I've not seen it before. Why are you suddenly so possessive of it?"
"Just drop it Ron!" Harry said, clearly exasperated. "My reasons are my own. This is my map, written by my father and I don't see as it's any business of yours as to who I choose to allow to use it. You got it dirty the last time you borrowed it and that smudge over the Astronomy Tower is still not completely fixed. Apart from the cloak, it's the last thing of my Dad's that I own and I want to keep it in as good a condition as I can. Is that too much to want?"
"No, but remember that it did belong to Fred and George first. Honestly it's not as though you can actually see people and what they're up to... can you?"
"Ron, but you see who is together and how close their dots are and I think it is a breach of privacy to let too many people see it."
"You weren't saying that last year when you were using it to sneak off and meet that Hufflepuff that you didn't think we knew about."
"Ron, stop it!" Hermione cried. "This is getting us nowhere. It's Harry's map and if he doesn't want to share then that is his prerogative, and I agree that it has begun to look much tattier recently and it is only fair that Harry try to preserve it as much as possible. Although I suppose a couple of well-researched preservation and bibliographic restoration charms might help..."
Suddenly realising that Harry's refusal to lend Ron the map was more likely to do with her and the potential discovery of any meetings she may have with Draco than with any deterioration of the map's condition, she squared her shoulders, raised her chin and marched around the corner as though she had not been hanging back eavesdropping.
"Oh, hi, Gin!" Hermione exclaimed on sighting her. Rushing towards her, the bushy-haired girl linked her arm through Ginny's and purposefully directed them away from Harry and Ron. Obviously Hermione was glad she had found some way of leaving the brewing row behind.
Harry, Ron and Hermione all knew of her intention to keep the baby and for the most part they were supportive, although Ron did voice the loud opinion that he had hoped that it might be either Bill or Charlie that made him an uncle first. Nevertheless, ever since she had told them, Hermione had taken to pestering her about writing to her mother to tell her of her decision and to ask about some new clothes, and this occasion was no exception. Rolling her eyes, she made agreeing noises as Hermione waxed lyrical about how essential it was for an expectant mother to dress comfortably, whilst simultaneously leading them slowly down the corridor and away from Ron's blustering.
Eventually, she heard Ron stomp away and Harry's quick footsteps as he strove to catch up. When he reached them, Ginny shot him a grateful look over the top of Hermione's head but he just scowled and avoided looking her in the eye. When they reached the Great Hall Ron was nowhere to be seen and Harry immediately found himself a seat with Seamus, Dean and Neville, leaving Hermione and Ginny sitting further down the table where, as Hermione put it, it was 'less boisterous'.
Scanning the hall as generally as she could, she was mildly comforted to see Draco sitting with Crabbe and Goyle who appeared to be gesticulating wildly over some parchment. Every time she saw Draco with Pansy Parkinson or one of the other Slytherin girls, an irrational bubble of jealousy and resentment welled up inside. She knew it was the fault of her hormones, but nevertheless it cost her a great deal of self control to remain in her seat when Pansy draped herself over her boyfriend, and she always breathed a sigh of relief to see him in all-male company. As much as she knew that Draco had to maintain appearances, it still burned when Pansy abandoned whatever poor boy she was terrorising that day in order to possessively assert her perceived place at Draco's side. He looked up from his dinner and they locked gazes for a brief second that made her heart pound and something unbearably pleasant to twist inside her chest. He still made her breathless just by looking at her. Their brief moment of silent communication was broken as Ron scrambled into the seat opposite Ginny, breaking her eye contact with Draco. Only when Ron had loaded his plate, pestered his sister to eat properly, and begun to stuff his face, did she dare to look up at him again, only to find that he had gone.
A few moments later, one of the school owls glided from the rafters and alighted in front of Ginny, holding his leg out with a piece of fine-quality parchment attached to it with a piece of green ribbon. Ron narrowed his eyes suspiciously as she quickly removed the missive and stuffed it in her pocket.
"Who's that from, Ginny?" he demanded.
"How should I know?” she retorted, "I've not opened it yet."
"Is it from Him?" Ron hissed. Clearly his bad mood had not been assuaged by a hearty meal.
"And which Him would that be Ronald?" Ginny asked calmly, "there appear to be a great number of Him's in this school. You'll have to be more specific."
"Don't play games Ginny, you know who I mean."
"If you mean 'is it from the father of my baby?', then yes, quite possibly. But as I said, I've not opened it yet and shall decline to do so until I have attained a measure of privacy," Ginny replied primly, buttering a slice of bread, folding it into a sandwich and filling it with salt and vinegar crisps. Raising her eyebrows at her near-apoplectic brother, she bit the corner off of her sandwich and chewed defiantly. Hermione was whispering furiously across the table at Ron commanding him to leave it be, and with a snort of disgust he glared at his sister, picked up his plate and went to make peace with Harry.
"So who is it from, Ginny?" Hermione ventured.
With a weary sigh, Ginny pulled the debated note from her pocket, untied the ribbon and unfurled it. She knew damn well who it was from, and she also knew that he would never sign his name nor leave any mark of authorship on the page, so she was quite safe in the knowledge that seeing it would give Hermione no clues whatsoever, yet would serve to satiate her curiosity and divert the topic of conversation away from the decidedly uncomfortable subject of maternity knickers.
The parchment was an elegant white square that even felt expensive, with a green wax seal that bore an ambiguous and generic fleur-de-lis. The words on the parchment were few and were written in a standard and unremarkable Black ink:
Hermione looked a little chagrined for a moment before disguising her disappointment with great aplomb and returning with damnable tenacity to her previous speculations on maternity underwear.
After twenty cringeworthy minutes during which Hermione extolled the virtues of properly supporting the growing bump in the latter stages of pregnancy, and during which Ginny worried about why Hermione would know such things, Ginny excused herself to use the toilet, one of the only times that she was grateful for her vastly increased need to urinate.
What Hermione didn't know was that by 'Same time. Same Place,' Draco meant that he would meet her in a small furnished room in the dungeons that Slytherin prefects had been using for centuries as a place to entertain their illicit trysts, half an hour after the note was received.
As she hurried out of the hall, she saw Ron alternately glowering at her and shooting pointed looks at Harry. Sincerely hoping he wouldn't follow her, she was relieved when she reached the nearest bathroom unaccosted. If there was one thing she hated the most about the actual logistics of being pregnant, it was the dire and unpredictable consequences it was having on her necessary bodily functions. A month into the summer holidays when her lack of period and clearly identifiable morning sickness had forced her to consider the possibility that she might be pregnant, her first terrifying thoughts had been how to tell her family immediately followed by memories of every conversation in which her mother had ever mentioned the bone-wrenching, gut-tearing agony of childbirth. She had never even stopped to consider how uncomfortable it would be to have a person growing inside her, and her unabashed and rather loud sigh of relief when she finally shut herself in a cubicle and sat down prompted several uncomfortable coughs from other stall occupants. After washing her hands, she checked her watch and realised that she had five minutes to reach the dungeon room. Hurrying out of the bathroom, she came face-to-chest with Ron who had clearly been waiting for her.
"What do you want, Ron? I've got things to do."
"I was at a loose end and thought I'd accompany my sister to class - given her delicate condition." Ron was being suspiciously pleasant, especially after his display of temper in the hall not half an hour ago. Eyeing him shrewdly, she said, "Well I'm fine Ron, I don't need accompanying anywhere. Please leave me alone." With that, she began to walk away from him.
"Oh no you don't, Ginny, Hermione thinks you're going to meet Him."
Stopping in her tracks she turned back to him. "So what if I am? It's not like there's much more he can do to me, is there? Why do you care so much if I see him? I would have thought that him wanting to be involved was something to be encouraged, but you seem hell-bent on keeping me away from him and I think it's bloody stupid and pathetic."
"Oh no, Gin, you've got it all wrong. I'm not trying to stop you meeting him; I am trying to find out who he is. I owe him a 'brotherly talking-to'," Ron replied with an unpleasant smirk. "Did I or did I not tell you that I considered it my duty as a brother to avenge your honour?"
If she wasn't so blindingly frustrated by his interference, she would have laughed. He sounded so old-fashioned that the idea could only have come from her mother. Glancing at her watch, she saw that she was going to be late.
"Late for something, Gin?" Ron asked with maddening jocularity.
"Nothing that can't wait," she replied, raising her eyebrows at him and daring him to call her on it.
At that moment, Draco emerged from the dungeon corridor - he'd been waiting for her and watching the bathroom door. Seeing Ginny with her brother, he immediately grasped the situation and knew that they would have to find time to talk later. Curling his lips in a sneer at the Weasel's heavy-handed approach, he leaned against the wall, affecting nonchalance, to watch what would happen next. It was hopefully apparently obvious to any Slytherin that came past that he appeared to be waiting for Crabbe and Goyle to finish stuffing their faces, however seemingly not to the apoplectic Gryffindor idiot who saw him standing there and chose to transfer his merrily boiling bad mood away from his sister and onto 'innocent' bystanders.
Having become exasperated with Ginny who was currently wondering why Harry and Hermione hadn't appeared to drag Ron to class, Ron seemed to be in the mood to lash out stupidly and irrationally, and to Ginny's horror, he chose Draco, whom Ginny had not realised had been standing there.
"Enjoying the show, Malfoy? Ron spat.
Draco raised his eyebrows and examined the fingernails on his right hand with an air of amused boredom.
"Well, if you will insist on making a spectacle of yourself, Weasley..." he drawled.
"Ron, leave it," Ginny hissed, tugging on his arm. The last thing she needed was for Draco to lose his temper and say something revealing.
"Yes, Weasel-king, listen to the Weaslette and run along now. It's no fun exchanging insults with one of lesser wit. It'd be more entertaining to spar with your little sister."
The double meaning of Draco's words was not lost on Ginny and memories of their last sparring match and the subsequent retribution meted out by his dexterous fingers brought a blush to her cheeks.
Ron drew his wand, ignoring Ginny’s frantic tugging at his sleeve. Quite a crowd of curious spectators had begun to congregate in the hallway, and furious muttering broke out as to the likely outcome of this one-on-one between Ron and Malfoy. Usually whenever there was a magical confrontation between the Gryffindors and Slytherins, Ron was never alone, and everyone still referred to the only time Ron had hexed Malfoy alone as the 'Slug incident'.
"Think you're big and clever, do you, Malfoy? Threatening my sister makes you feel good does it? I suppose to Death Eater scum like you it'd be like killing two birds with one stone."
Ginny winced, and the hall went silent as the implications of Ron's insult filtered through their collective minds.
Draco raised a sceptical eyebrow, his gaze flickering between Ron and Ginny, who was struggling not to look at him. He chose his words carefully and paused for dramatic effect before saying "Despite what you may think of me, Weasley, I would never stoop so low as to hex a pregnant woman and for you to even voice such an opinion only further demonstrates your ignorance and narrow-mindedness." With that, Draco turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Ron red-faced and stammering in the wake of such an eloquent and publicly humiliating put-down. Even Professor McGonagall, who had stopped to observe the scene closely lest her intervention be required, was watching the retreat of the blond Slytherin with undisguised approval, and the mutterings of the surrounding students clearly demonstrated who had emerged on top out of that particular confrontation. Ginny felt an irrational surge of pride that Draco had so subtly delivered such a stinging insult and left Ron standing without wands having been drawn, rules disobeyed or anyone being hurt. It was, for lack of a better description, beautifully done.
With a scathing glare at the mortified Ron, she turned away from him to see Harry and Hermione watching them from across the hall. Hermione looked stricken, as though somehow Ron's humiliation was a shared burden. Harry, however, bore a thoughtful expression and she thought she detected the briefest hint of curious surprise flicker in his eyes. She was saved from having to speak to any of them, however, by Luna marching up and grabbing her arm. She was wearing an odd-looking necklace from which hung a few Muggle safety-pins, and her earrings, similarly adorned, were jangling as she walked.
"Come on, Ginny, we've got Herbology now," she said in a loud voice, "and Professor Sprout promised to help me plant those Defkangle seeds Daddy brought me back from his trip to inner Mongolia."
As Ginny was being rescued by Luna, she risked a backward glance and saw Draco stood at the top of the staircase. 'I'm sorry,' she mouthed silently, willing him to understand her, and just before the main door obscured her view, she thought she saw him nod in acknowledgment. Apologies seemed to dominate their relationship of late and as she followed Luna across the grounds towards the greenhouses, she couldn't help but wish that everything was back the way it had been before. Rubbing the small mound of her stomach, she fought back the tears as the traitorous thought entered her mind that she hoped she would miscarry. Before the thought was even fully formed in her mind, she was already rebelling against it and her whimpered cry of 'No' prompted curious glances from the surrounding students. She didn't want the baby to die, not really, she just wished desperately that it hadn't happened in the first place. Feeling sick and miserable, she trudged into the greenhouse and squeezed through the throng of students, trying to ignore the pointed staring of her classmates as her gently rounded abdomen made slithering into a space unobtrusively near-impossible to accomplish.
As Draco ascended the staircase away from the pitiful scene with Ron Weasley, he couldn't help but smirk in self-congratulation. Not only had he delivered a blistering put-down, but he had managed to publicly embarrass the red-headed fool without risking Ginny's ire by hexing her brother. His satisfied mood only lasted until he reached the top of the staircase and turned back to watch how the rest of the scene would unfold. Ginny was being forcibly dragged towards the front doors by that ditzy blonde girl she seemed to be friends with, and Potter was glaring at him in a disconcerting way. Hatred, revulsion, spite, malice or anger he could have handled with a sardonic sneer, but the curious expression was unsettling, and Malfoys didn't like to be unsettled. Turning away from the compelling force of Potter's gaze, he bumped into Professor Snape, who was also eyeing him speculatively and flickering his gaze between Draco, the 'Golden Trio' and Ginny and the blonde.
With a mumbled apology, Draco sidestepped the potions master and continued up the stairs. It was only after he'd climbed three moving staircases and walked along six corridors that he stopped to catch his breath. He wasn't sure how or why, but it always seemed as though Snape knew what you were thinking, and he felt an inexplicable surge of guilt and shame when he thought about Snape knowing about Ginny and the baby. Come to think of it, whenever he thought about Ginny and the baby, he was treated to these unaccustomed feelings. When he lay in bed at night, listening to the snores of his dorm-mates and thinking about all the implications and ramifications of his impending fatherhood, he couldn't help but wish that it didn't exist.
Not that he wanted her to kill it, obviously, but things would be so much easier if this wasn't happening. He was losing sleep over this whole business, and when he did finally manage to drift into a doze at about three in the morning, his sleep was fitful and punctuated with dreams of Ginny underneath him, her face gasping and rapturous. He usually woke sweating profusely and with an aching hard-on that took a good fifteen minutes to dispel. He was desperate for her, aching to hold her the way he used to, but now because of the baby, everything was so much more complicated. He wanted to make love to her, to kiss her, touch her and taste her, but he was afraid she'd push him away, afraid he'd somehow hurt the fragile life she carried inside. He was so frustrated and confused and his mind was walking itself around in circles; Did he love her? Did she love him? Could they cope with the burdens thrust upon them?
He knew that if the child was a girl, he would have no obligations other than moral ones. If it was a girl, would he, could he abandon her to single-motherhood? The fact that he was even considering it brought fresh waves of remorse. If the child was a boy, then it was already magically bound into the position of heir, whether he was married to the mother or not - that was why there was so much importance placed upon pureblood marriages. It was why conception charms and aids were so frequently employed by families to ensure that the single night of consummation required of the most often arranged marriages would be fruitful and produce an heir quickly, thus safeguarding the family estates and monies from the spawn of illicit liaisons. He also knew that if the child was a girl, they would have time in which to make decisions and plans, but if it was a boy, then all would have to be revealed, because it wouldn't be long before the child's name appeared on various magically endowed and legally binding documents. The name would also appear on the family tapestries too, but only after the naming ceremony, when certain spells and enchantments related to bloodline would be invoked.
It was all so complicated. He didn't want to have to deal with this. If only he'd kept his cock in his pants, none of this would have happened. Perhaps if you'd not fucked a Weasley, none of this would have happened. With a sigh, he tipped his head back against the wall and tried not to dwell, once again, on how their contraception had failed. The fact was that it had, and until such time as he was forced into making a decision about whether to stick by her or abandon her, he was doomed to suffer these eternally tormenting cycles of thought.
To Be Continued.
Myanceris is the author of 10 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 19 members. Members who liked Oh Dear God also liked 770 other stories.
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