Mismatch

See Part I for Summary and Disclaimers

Gryffindor House~~

“Ron, Ron, wait up,” Ron heard as Hermione came dashing up behind him. He really didn’t want to talk to Hermione right now. They’d become good friends after their disastrous attempt at dating the previous year, but Ron wasn’t sure he wanted anyone to know about the Draco “situation” until he’d figured some things out for himself.

He paused by the portrait of the fat lady, waiting for Hermione.

“Why did you and Draco get called out of class? Did you meet with Professor Dumbledore? What’s wrong?” said Hermione breathlessly.

“Nothing’s wrong, Mione,” he said irritably. “Snape just wanted to talk to us about our …detention for tomorrow night,” he continued avoiding Hermione’s eye.

“Oh, Ron! Not another detention! Did you and Malfoy have another fight? You’ll never get on if you can’t…”

“I know, I know Hermione,” said Ron quickly. “It won’t happen again,” said Ron with a wince.

“Honestly, that’s what you say every time,” said Hermione in a huff. “Even Harry doesn’t pay him any mind any longer,” she said in a chiding tone.

“That’s because Harry isn’t in half the classes we are anymore,” said Ron with a mulish expression.

Hermione’s look softened.

“Oh, Ron, I know you miss him. I do too, but Harry’s curriculum changed so radically this year because he doesn’t have much of a choice. One day he’ll be forced to face Voldemort and he must be ready for it as best he can,” she said sadly.

“I know,” Ron said gruffly. “But it’s not just him I miss. You’re taking all those electives this year and even with the time turner you haven’t had much time for me either,” Ron said, hating himself for sounding whiny.

Hermione placed her arm in his.

“I know, I’m sorry, Ron. But I want to go into Medi-witch training and I need these electives to assist me in reaching that goal just as you’ll be taking the extra DADA courses to help prepare you for your Auror training. We’re growing up, Ron,” she said wistfully.

“Besides, if you and Hannah Abbot are getting serious about one another, maybe, before you know it, there’ll be another little generation of Weasleys running around,” said Hermione in a teasing manner. “Then you’ll forget all about us what with a new job and taking care of a wife and child.”

Hermione glanced at Ron to see his response to her teasing. He’d gone milk white behind his light freckles.

“Ron, what’s wrong? I didn’t mean anything by it, you know. Oh, Merlin! Hannah’s not...she’s not, is she?” Hermione lowered her voice to a whisper.

“No!” Ron squawked and then went a fiery shade of red.

“Well, thank goodness for that,” she said with some relief. “Becoming a father at sixteen would be no easy task,” she continued.

Ron’s eyes rolled back in his head. ‘If only Hermione knew,’ he thought.

“Come on, Ron,” she said amiably. “Let’s go into the Common Room and get some studying done. Lavender Pansies,” she said to the Fat Lady.

The portrait swung open yet Ron stood rooted to the ground.

“Aren’t you coming, Ron?” said Hermione over her shoulder.

“No, err…you go ahead. I have to talk to Hannah.” Ron said with something like despair in his voice. He had to break things off with her now. It was only right with Draco expecting his baby.

He had to do right by the mother of his child. Male pregnancies weren’t common even among wizarding kind but, when they did occur, they were often difficult and fraught with danger for the mother. That made it vital that Draco accept Ron as an essential part of his life from now on, as Ron had every intention of being there for Draco and the baby.

That is if Ron could stop Draco from turning him into a flobberworm at the first opportunity he got.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Slytherin House~~

Draco sulked on the sofa in front of the fireplace being warily watched by Crabbe and Goyle. The first thing he’d done upon his return was to throw a nasty hex at Pansy when she’d asked about Draco’s meeting with their Head of House. She was, even now, in the girl’s dorm trying to undo the magical “lock jaw” that Draco had thrown at her.

“Stupid cow,” muttered Draco irritably.

Draco’s morose attitude worried Crabbe and Goyle. Normally, Draco could throw off a bad day or even week with one simple well-placed hex, but not today. Whatever thundercloud Draco was currently under was a doozy.

Draco looked down at his immaculate robes and ran his hand along his stomach. Impossible to believe that a baby was already growing there, he thought. He frowned ferociously. As the pregnant member of a male pairing he was considered the “mother” by wizarding law. The child was his to dispose of…or to keep. The biological father had no say in whether the pregnancy proceeded or terminated unless, of course, they were married. Draco shuddered at the nastiness of that thought. Over his dead body, or better yet, the Weasel’s.

Draco turned restlessly on his side, facing away from his bodyguards. So, it was his decision to make. Why did it matter then what the Weaseoughought? Draco picked up one of the throw pillows and punched it over and over again. It was ridiculous. They were schoolboys and certainly not ready for any commitments. Besides, he hated the Weasel and the Weasel hated him. It went with the territory. The Weasleys and the Malfoys? Too absurd to even contemplate.

Draco shuddered at the thought of what his parents would say if this ever got out. Even though it had been a magical accident, his father would be furious at the idea of Draco acting as the “passive” in the coupling and that a Weasley was the father to boot. No, there would be no discussing this issue with his parents. He knew his father would tell him to get rid of the brat and quickly.

Lucius certainly wouldn’t want Draco’s worth on the marriage mart to be compromised. Malfoy Sr. was already involved in complex negotiations with several well-off Slytherin families with marriageable daughters. Pansy wasn’t the only fish in the sea by any means as a prospect. By the time Draco graduated, his future wife would have been painstakingly picked out for him.

This was the method still used by most of the old pureblood Slytherin families. A marriage was more than just providing for an heir, it must also provide the maximum advantage possible to the family, whether that be political or financial or both. Love never entered into the negotiations. If you were lucky, you either liked or respected your soon-to-be spouse, but it was not a requirement.

Draco shifted irritably again on the sofa. This baby would knock all of Lucius’ plans to hell and back. If Draco decided to keep it, he’d be disowned without a doubt. Lucius would never let him return to Malfoy Manor with a Weasley brat in tow.

Crabbe and Goyle heard the banging on the door to their common room. They looked to Draco for guidance but he was in a world of his own. The wards wouldn’t let anyone in, obviously, but something was definitely wrong.

Eventually, Crabbe could stand it no longer and got up from his chair and went to the portrait opening.

As the portrait swung open he saw Ron Weasley hopping about in an agitated manner.

“Bloody Hell, and about time too. I’ve been banging on this stupid door for ten minutes,” said Ron.

The Slytherin wizard in the portrait was muttering dangerously about Gryffindors and traps but Crabbe ignored him and stood slack-jawed. Why would a Gryffindor be knocking at the Slytherin Common Room door?

“I need to see Malfoy, right now,” said Ron.

Crabbe just continued to slowly blink. Goyle joined him by the open door and also stared at the audacious Gryffindor.

“Malfoy, are you in there? I need to talk to you,” shouted Ron.

A split second later a hex came flying over the heads of the dull-witted duo and almost smacked into Ron’s chest, only his lightening-fast reflexes managing to save him.

Crabbe and Goyle scrambled for cover. Draco had started to throw one hex after another out of the door. Red, green, purple and yellow hexes were flying out into the corridor and Ron threw himself against the wall nearest the opening to avoid being struck.

‘Damnit, Snape had gave him back his wand,’ thought an enraged Ron.

Ron saw a group of first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws turning the corridor on their way to their Potions class.

“Stop,” shouted Ron. “Don’t come any closer,” he said tersely as the hexes continued to fly in a never-ending variety, bursting like fireworks against the dungeons walls.

The wide-eyed eleven year olds watched fascinated and fearful. Finally, one of the Hufflepuffs, more nervous than the rest at the thought of being late for class, fled, bleating loudly for all she was worth all the way back towards Snape’s offices.

“Professor Snape! Professor Snape! Come quick! They’re duelling in the hallways!”

Ron cursed loudly and profanely as he sank his head into his hands.

tbc