False Pretense

Hermione woke with a small abdominal pain, but she figured it was only because she slept in a downright awful position. Worried that her face would permanently be contorted into a frown, Hermione rubbed her cheeks. She grasped onto the bed post and pulled herself up.

Waddling toward the mirror, Hermione turned to her side and smiled. Running her fingers over the round belly that carried her child, she tilted her head to the side and sighed.

So, things were progressing awfully fast, considering she was nearly five months along. The school year passed with flying colors. And to answer everyone’s immediate question: no she still hadn’t told Draco she was pregnant.

How this was possible, considering how large she was, the answer was simple. Enchanted robes. She had found some during the Easter holiday in Baby Weekly for the working mothers who needed to keep their slim figure. Of course, she went into ever research possible to ensure none of the magic seeped into her womb to hurt her little baby.

It was surprisingly useful, considering she had a school full of students who would take all opportune moments to pass the rumor along that their transfiguration professor was indeed pregnant. That meant only a small window of time before Draco found out.

Now, it wasn’t that Hermione didn’t want to tell Draco that she was carrying his offspring. She did and she had tried; once.

After that night where she caught him with the floozy, Hermione decided that she didn’t need to tell him. She didn’t expect him to put down whatever he was doing to become a father her child needed. Besides, it wasn’t that she didn’t have enough male influence for her son, she had the entire Weasley clan, as well as Remus, Neville and Harry.

The faculty had, surprisingly, kept the secret to themselves. Although, Hermione had suspicion that Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout wanted to spill the beans to Draco several times, Professor Snape made it clear that it was Hermione’s decision. McGonagall agreed with him; which was weird from the beginning but she learned that both respected Hermione far too much to go beyond her trust.

Draco, for all intents and purposes, was to be thought of as a sperm donor. He, still, had no clue about the pregnancy and she intended to keep it that way. She would be out of school when the baby was born, so that wasn’t a problem, and she hardly spoke to him after that night.

It was the last game of the year, Slytherin versus Gryffindor for the Quidditch House Cup. Hermione donned her usual scarlet and gold robes, charmed to make her look slim, and headed out with McGonagall to the pitch.

On the way out she spotted Snape in a deep conversation with Draco, the pair apparently arguing over something. Draco sneered at the Potions Master before his eyes met Hermione. He turned and stalked off toward the pitch before Hermione and McGonagall could reach them.

Snape brought his hand under Hermione’s elbow, causing her to groan.

“Pregnant, not incapable,” she argued as he helped lead her to the pitch.

“I pray to Merlin I retire before this child attends Hogwarts,” Snape said lightly, “With Malfoy and your stubbornness, your son will be a thorn in my side equivalent to a million Weasleys, Potters and know-it-alls.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when you request retirement,” McGonagall laughed, extending a hand to Hermione as they made their way up the stairs.

Hermione sat in her usual spot but frowned when McGonagall moved with Snape to sit elsewhere, leaving her sitting beside Draco. His eyes fell on her for a moment, causing her to look at him.

“It’s cold,” Draco muttered, crossing his arms.

“Yes, the weather has been…fickle,” Hermione replied awkwardly, noticing some one stop next to her knees.

Blond bint at 9 o’clock.

Hermione looked to her left and shifted her legs out of the way as the girl, dressed in a low cut sun dress, moved past her.

“Excuze me,” she giggled, nearly knocking Hermione over as she settled on the other side of Draco, “I am very excited to zee your team, Draco!”

Draco grunted, his eyes still lingering on Hermione before looking out to the pitch. Hermione’s cheeks flushed with a tad bit of anger, causing her to rest her hands on her stomach and count to a million cauldrons. Draco’s eyes darted down to her and when Hermione noticed, she instantly moved her hands to her knees; with a lot of effort.

Everyone was at the edge of their seats as the game continued on, Hermione included. It was possibly the best game she had ever paid attention to. It was better than listening to the dribbling blonde ramble on about how she didn’t understand the game.

Hermione didn’t like Quidditch but at least she understood it. Having three best friends who loved Quidditch did that to a person.

Draco seemed equally as annoyed being that he had to turn away from the game to explain simple things. Like the commentary wasn’t helping at all.

Her stomach was itching like no one’s business. Damn growing ligaments! She brought her hand to her stomach to scratch it, feeling her little boy squirm just a little. She remembered smiling when Madam Pomfrey showed her images of the baby making facial expressions. That was when she truly fell in love with the child.

He was pink, translucent and quit wrinkled but had a small tuft of hair and, to her surprise and glee, eyebrows. She was also told that her child could now hear her voice and her heartbeat. That was when Hermione found herself speaking to her child about the world, how the weather changed, but not once did she mention Draco.

She didn’t need him to be a successful parent.

“Watch out!” some one in the stands shouted as Hermione was drawn back into reality.

Her eyes widened as a rogue bludger was sent careening into the stands. It broke through the wood, sending splinters everywhere. People moved as quickly as they could but Hermione’s large state caused her to move abnormally slow, if at all.

A hand wrapped around her stomach, pushing her onto the ground as the bludger zoomed past her. Her heart was beating so quickly, eyes stinging with tears as she felt herself hit the ground. Her hands instantly flew to her stomach to protect the fetus.

“Out of the way,” Snape bellowed, throwing his robes behind him as he moved to Hermione.

Everything was a blur as the crowd exploded into a panic. Snape and McGonagall could be heard shouting at people to move, but Hermione couldn’t see anything. She was rolled onto her back, hair brushed from her face. Her eyes focused on the face looming over her, the worried expression of Draco etched into her memory before she fainted.





Hermione groaned, feeling the soft sheets around her give way to a body at the edge of the bed. She felt a warm hand cover her forehead and trace down the side of her face. Fighting the urge to roll her face into said hand, Hermione groaned again.

Her eyes slowly opened but she soon realized where she was. Her hands instantly flew to her stomach as she shot up. A pair of large hands reached out to stop her before she injured herself more. To her relief she felt the swollen bulge of her stomach, followed by a light tingling sensation.

“He’s ok,” came the voice, drawled and husky, “He’s fit as a fiddle.”

“Oh gods,” Hermione whispered, rolling back onto the bed where she sighed heavily, “Thank Merlin.”

She paused as her mind clicked to the voice and stared at the person sitting at the edge of the bed. Draco looked positively furious but he was quiet.

“When did you plan on telling me?” he asked with a quirked brow, “After he was born?”

“Never, actually,” Hermione said quietly, “Where’s your girlfriend?”

“Gabrielle isn’t my girlfriend,” Draco said quickly, “She never was but that has nothing to do with us.”

“It has everything,” she whispered, “Every fucking thing…”

“You told me you wanted nothing more from me,” Draco replied, resting his hands on his knees, “Professional relationship, ring a bell?”

Hermione was silent but Draco filled the silence with his barking voice, “I had to find out that you were pregnant during a Quidditch match, in front of the whole school. You made me feel like a fool.”

“Like you would’ve cared anyway,” Hermione mumbled, “I don’t need you. I never…”

Draco laughed, causing Hermione to glare at him, “My mum came home a few days before school was set to start and blabbed on and on about how Mrs. Weasley implied I had gotten a professor at school pregnant. I told her it was impossible…I only shagged…you. And then I saw you and you didn’t look like you were pregnant. I understand that it takes awhile but…you never showed.”

“Charmed robes,” Hermione said quietly, watching Draco nod.

“I had a feeling,” he continued, “Seeing the way Snape pined over you. I thought that you and him were…I confronted him and…”

“That’s why you were arguing with him before the game,” Draco nodded, running his hand through his hair.

“I can take rejection, but I can’t take seeing you with…anyone else,” he laughed, “Maybe with Longbottom but we all know he’s a fairy.”

“Neville is not a fairy!” Hermione snapped, trying to sit up but found her back in disarray.

“Easy,” Draco warned, pressing Hermione back onto the bed, “I don’t want Malfoy jr. to get hurt because mummy decided to have a temper tantrum over a bad joke.”

Hermione sneered at him, but Draco merely grinned.

“Listen, Hermione,” Draco said quietly, “I don’t care if you hate me, or if you think I won’t take care of him properly but I will be in his life.”

“I never wanted you not to be,” she said quietly, “I’ve just been…”

“Scared?’ Draco asked, “I understand but maybe if I had known then we’d be in this together…instead of me being an outcast.”

“Why would you ever want anything to do with me or my son,” Hermione countered, resting her hand on her belly, “He’s inferior according to your family and your ethics.”

“I want everything to do with you,” Draco said quietly, moving over her, “Everything. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“You sure show a really bad way of it,” Hermione mumbled, feeling tears prickle her eyes.

“Just like you do,” he grinned, “And here I thought I tried my hardest to get you to notice that I wanted you…all of you.”

Hermione sighed as Draco pressed his lips lightly against hers, his hand coming to rest on top of hers.

“So, I guess the question is…” he breathed, “What will we name him? Nothing sodding stupid like Bob.”

“Altair,” Hermione whispered, watching the curves of his lips smirk upward.

“Altair Malfoy,” he paused, “Or is it Granger? Granger-Malfoy?”

“Malfoy,” Hermione replied smiling wider when Draco’s eyes lit up.