Dealing With the Consequences

Chapter Seven

Books and papers flew everywhere about the tiny room, zooming past the pair. Harry watched his friend, making the books fly off their shelves with ease. Hermione had always been a natural at the spell, it was no wonder it now came to her as second nature. Losing his concentration, Harry turned back just in time to duck as the book he'd been levitating came flying past his head.

"Harry, pay attention," Hermione laughed, flicking her wrist in that expert-like manner. Harry shook himself mentally, trying to focus on the task at hand. Hermione could tell that he was a little off, he'd had his interview at the Ministry the day before. Since then, he hadn't been able to stop grinning, he was finally on his way to getting his dream job. At least one of them was.

Hermione had still yet to receive any job offers. She was really losing confidence about her money situation, but her parents and friends had all promised to help her out as much as they could. Still, each and everyday, she found herself tempted to send Hogwarts an application, even though she knew she would never be ready by the required time.

Hermione had attended another Healer's appointment the day before, this time accompanied by a very awkward seeming Harry. Healer Bolton had said that the baby was doing very well. He told Hermione that her baby's magic levels were all still optimal, so she should begin looking out as she was soon expected to begin performing accidental magic. He also informed her that, so far, she had put on about 16lbs, whereas most women have only put on 10lbs by their fourth month of pregnancy. However, he said that every witch is different, so a few extra pounds was nothing to worry about.

After her appointment, she and Harry had parted ways. Harry had gone for his interview, and Hermione had gone over to her parents' house for lunch. At her parents', Hermione told them all about how her baby was doing. They seemed very interested in everything she had to say, especially the part about her baby's magic levels all being optimal. Hermione had stayed at her parents' until faily late into the evening, only leaving when she began to grow tired and her mother insisted she get some sleep. Not wanting to go against her mother's wishes, Hermione bid her parents goodnight, promising to be back within the week for her old crib.

Hermione and Harry were now trying to empty out her computer room, converting it into a nursery for when the baby was old enough to sleep by herself. Usually, the task would take hours, but with the help of their wands, the pair was slowly but surely making major progress.

"What do you reckon we should get to next?" Harry asked her once the bookshelf was clear and moved out of the room. Hermione scanned the small area, trying to decide whether to move the computer desk or the chest full of her old textbooks and Hogwarts things.

"I think the desk is taking up a lot of room," she told him. "If you help, we can move it out before moving the chest."

"All right," Harry moved so he should across the room. Both raised their wands, working together to manuver the desk out of the room and into the sitting room. After that was done, they combined their powers to move the chest, which must have weighed nearly 40lbs. Once that was done, they got to work on moving everything out of the living room and into whichever room Hermione believed to be the best place for it all.

"Where do you want the computer?" Harry asked after stacking all her books in a neat pile in her room. Hermione walked slowly into her bedroom, her hands resting on the small of her aching back. Since she was beginning to show so early, her back was now in a constant dull pain.

"Beside the bookshelf should be fine," she answered, pointing to the empty bookshelf near her wardrobe. There was a space inbetween the two just big enough to fit the desk.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "If it goes in here, you won't really have much room for the crib."

"Bugger, that's right," Hermione said, slightly blushing at her mistake. She'd nearly forgotten that she'd planned to share her room until her daughter was old enough to sleep through the night. "I guess we could find some space for it in the sitting room. Maybe near the window?"

"Lead the way," the brunette lead her friend into the sitting room where random things were haphazardously scattered about the area. The desk stood in the middle of floor, the computer lay unplugged beside it.

"My home is a pig sty," Hermione commented with a hint of a smile as the two magicked the desk to its designated place.

"If you think this is bad, you should see Ron's room," Harry replied, levitating the computer onto the desk before using his wand to properly connect the wires.

"Well, his room has always been messy," she told him, placing her computer chair back at its desk. "I'd imagine it's a lot worse now with him working and all."

"Much worse," Harry told her, not catching that the topic was upsetting his friend. "Molly's about ready to have a fit, all he does when he's off is lock himself up in his room anyways. I guess she figures he could use that time to straighten the place up."

"He's still isolating himself?" she asked. Hermione had yet to see Ron since their encounter at breakfast the week before. She was trying to give him the time and space he needed to get over their spat, but so far the task was proving very difficult. Lately, she'd made a habit of avoiding the Burrow completely, which was not easy in the slightest. Last she'd heard, Ron had taken to locking himself in his room after meals, only coming out for work, meals, or to use the loo. He rarely even talked to Harry anymore, which confused his two friends greatly.

"Pretty much," Harry answered, moving Hermione's knitting things so he could take a seat on the couch. "I did catch him in the kitchen late last night, but I barely got a word out of him before he ran off to his room again."

"He's impossible, Harry," Hermione pointed out the fact, taking a seat as well. She grabbed a nearby copy of a parenting magazine, fanning herself. Damn those hotflashes!

"No he's not, he's just going a little over the top this time," he corrected her.

"A little?" she repeated, throwing the magazine back on the coffee table. She then grabbed her wand, lowering the room temperature just enough to cool her off without making Harry feel cold. "Harry, he's locking himself in his room just to get back at me! This isn't right, nor is it fair to me."

"You think I don't know that?" Harry told her. "I can't even begin to count the number of times that Ron's gotten his knickers in a bunch over me, then tried making me feel guilty. Just don't let it work, and eventually, he'll come to his senses."

"I know, I just wish he didn't have to take so bloody long," she said, crossing her arms under her swollen chest, wincing slightly at the tenderness.

"Getting frustrated, are we?" Harry smiled.

"How can you tell?" she asked, annoyance evident in her voice. Her face and body felt hot, only making her temper shorten.

"You're cursing," Harry pointed out. "You never curse unless you're frustrated or shouting. Not to mention, your face is beat red as well."

"That's not from my frustration," she told him. "I'm having those damned hotflashes again. They're driving me bloody mad."

"Calm down 'Mione," he said, standing. "I'll go grab you come cold water and an icepack to help cool you down."

"Thanks Harry, you're a lifesaver," she said, meaning every word.

"It's what I do," he shrugged, heading to the kitchen. "Besides, what kind of uncle would I be if I didn't help take care of my neice's temporary home?" Harry laughed, Hermione didn't. She felt cranky and bitter today, mood swings were a bitch.

Harry returned quickly from the kitchen, handing his friend the icepack and a glass of ice water. Hermione thanked him before placing the icepack on her chest and chugging nearly half the glass of water. Thankfully, she felt her temperature begin to decrease, the blood draining slightly from her face while still keeping a slight rosy tint.

"So," Harry said, breaking the silence between them once he saw that she was cooling down. "Any big plans for your birthday next week?"

"No, I don't really feel like making a big deal about it this year," Hermione said, holding back a groan. She'd nearly forgotten about her upcoming birthday.

"Why not?" Harry questioned, sounding concerned. "You're going to be twenty, that's a big deal 'Mione."

"Not to me," she argued, getting annoyed with her friend. Why did he always have to be so inquisitive? Wait, wasn't that what everyone always said about her? Damn. "I have bigger things to think about right now."

"At least come to the Burrow for dinner," Harry practically begged. "Molly's already been talking about having everyone over for it." Hermione finally looked over to see Harry's bright green eyes pleading with her.

"What am I supposed to do about Ron?" she asked. "I can't enjoy my birthday with him acting this way, I'd be miserable." Harry stopped for a second, thinking hard. He knew Ron better than anyone, if there was any way to fix thing with him, Harry would know.

"I'm not really sure," he said finally. "We'll think of something before next week."

That didn't exactly help. "It's hopeless," she sighed, leaning back on the couch. She covered her hands with her face, taking deep breaths, hoping it would stop any oncoming mood swings. It didn't help, she felt the tears well up in her eyes, but she fought them back.

"Hey, why don't we go transfigure the paint and carpeting in the nursery?" Harry suddenly suggested. He must've felt awkward in the new situation, not like she could really blame him. Hermione stayed silent, thinking about her offer. It did sound appealing.

She turned to him, a small smile playing at her lips. "Okay," Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. He then stood up, took her hand in his and lead her into what would be her baby girl's nursery in just five short months. Her heart felt suddenly light, as if anything to do with her daughter made her feel giddy. Yes, that was partially why she was happy. But also, it gave her a distraction. A pleasant one that, lately, had brought a smile to her face and something to look forward to in her so far unsatisfactory post-Hogwarts life.

*

The long hallways of the Malfoy's summer home echoed at the sound of Draco's bare feet walking along the hardwood floors. His parents had always scolded him for walking about barefoot, but while they weren't present he figured he might as well do what he please. Besides, the house was deadly quiet. There wasn't another human being in the place. Nothing but house-elves and perhaps a boggart down in the cellar where Draco always refused to go. Other than that, not a person of importance could see him. He was the master of the household now. Damn.

Draco was searching through the house, looking for something, anything, that he could do to keep himself entertained. So far, he had no such luck. He'd been stuck in the house for so long, alone, that he'd done just about everything there was to do. Lately, he'd taken to wandering through the halls. There were many portraits lining the walls, the eyes of their inhabitants following him along his way.

Since his visit to the manor a week before, Draco found himself constantly thinking about his mother. A lot of his thinking was still worrying, but then he was also suspicious. He knew she was hiding something, but what he didn't know. She'd been so strange lately, like she wanted to tell him something but she couldn't. He'd seen her like this countless times before, and in the end, he always found out. Sometimes, his mother would just break down and tell him, others he had to find out for himself.

Growing up in Malfoy Manor, Draco had been surrounded by family secrets. His parents had hidden so many things from him, things he'd had to find out for himself. He'd learned how to be stealthy, a trait which had greatly benefited him with his role as a spy. Sure, he'd been seen as a mischieovous child, but truth be told, it had helped him understand his parents' ways. His mother had always tried to protect him from everything bad in the world, so when she was hiding something, chances are it was big and it definately wasn't good.

Along with the worry about his mother, Draco found himself terribly homesick. He had no one around but French Muggle women and a couple house-elves which weren't exactly interesting to converse with. He missed everything back home so much, hell, he'd even settle for being back at Hogwarts with the whole lot of Gryffindor saints.

As he rounded the corner, he came to the corridor where his bedroom door stood. With a sigh, he entered the bright room. Sunlight flooded in through the open curtains, filling the room with warmth and light. He walked sullenly into the room, flopping down on the large canopy bed. He turned his blond head, noticing the stack of unopened letters on his nightstand. His mother had given him his letters the week before, but for some reason he hadn't thought to open them.

Draco sorted through the pile, reading the names of each sender. There were six letters in total; one from Blaise, two late birthday cards from old family friends (from his mother's side, of course), and three from Pansy. Draco sighed, that girl would never give up. He discarded the birthday cards, he birthday had been months ago anyway. Feeling need for a little anticipation, he chose to open Pansy's letter's first.

The first letter went something like this:

Dear Draco,

Hey baby, how have you been? We haven't talked in a while and I really miss you...blah blah blah...The way we ended it was just so unfair to both of us...blah blah...Think of all the good times we had back at Hogwarts...blah blah blah...We pretty much did grew up together (wait, grew? Present tense Pansy, but nice try)...blah blah...Need to talk about our relationship and work out our problems...blah blah blah...With a lttle help we'll make it...blah blah...

Xoxo (gag)

Love, Pansy

Draco snorted, tossing the letter aside. It was of no importance to him, he'd outgrown Pansy. No way was he going to get desperate enough to go back to her, he'd be married to Granger before that ever happened. He picked up her next letter, groaning when he realised it was longer. It basically said the same thing, she just was a bit more discriptive and had a lot more spelling mistakes. Merlin, that woman was slow. Next letter; Pansy bitching because he hadn't replied yet. Typical Pansy, even from such a far distance she could still find a way to squeeze his balls. Finally, he came to Blaise's letter.

Dear Draco,

How have you been? I feel like we haven't spoken in ages with you being in France. How is the old summer home? Still keeping up? I'd imagine so, it can't have the name Malfoy on it for nothing, now can it? I'm not really quite sure when you'll get this, but when you do, I need to speak with you. Not just through floo, we need to meet. I can come down to France if need be, I haven't been there since fifth year anyway so it'll be nice to return. It is important that we do this as soon as possible, I cannot keep our prying mothers out of my business for long. So please, do write back if you can. If not, then floo me if you must, I just can't garuntee that I'll be home to take the call.

Wishing you are well,

Blaise

Draco stared at his friend's fairly neat handwriting for a few minutes, happy to finally hear from him. Quickly, he jumped off the bed, dropping the rest of the letters onto the thick carpet. He took the letter over to his desk, and reached for a piece of parchment, ink, and a quill. He smoothed out the creases in the parchment before dipping his quill gingerly into the bottle of ink. In his most legible penmanship, Draco began writing his reply.

Dear Blaise,

It's so great to hear from you! I've been terribly bored here in France, any company is very greatly appreciated! I'm surrounded by house-elves and more Muggles than I believe I've ever seen in my entire life. But then again, there is some damn good looking Muggle women here. Honestly, I'm not much of a Muggle lover myself, but sometimes I just can't help it. You know how it is. Now, about this news. You say you'd like to meet soon, then what about next Tuesday night at a local club here in town called L'Adore? Say, around eleven-thirty? I'll let the bouncer know who you are, so no need to wait in line. See you then.

Draco

Draco folded the parchment up neatly, placing it at the corner of his antique desk. When he Flooed his mother before bed, he would ask her to send it. The wards around his old summer home were so strong, thanks to his father, that not even an owl could get in or out. This simple fact, cut Draco off from the world which he called home, driving him nearly mad.

With a sigh, Draco rose from the desk. He decided to continue on his search, praying to the gods that he could find something to cure his bordem. After turning a few corners down the corridor, Draco came to the room which he had dubbed the sun room when he was a child. The room had only two full walls, covered in fancy paintings and doors leading to seperate rooms. The other two walls consisted entirely of large windows overlooking the vast garden below.

Growing up, this had always been Draco's favourite place at his family summer home. The room was filled with comfty chairs, a fireplace off to one side and a grand piano stood in the middle of the hardwood floor.

Draco inched slowly towards the piano, admiring the expensive paintings adorning the walls. This had been the work of his mother, she had always been an expert when it came to interior design. His father had always discouraged her creativity, so she'd surpressed it into their summer home. Lucius had sneared when he'd seen what she'd done, but Draco had loved it from the first time he'd set his eyes on it.

Draco sat down at the seat infront of the piano. The thick, red cushion sagged beneath his weight, but it still felt like sitting on a cloud. His fingers grazed the polished wood, leaving a faint mark. If his mother was there, she would have scolded him and made him wash his hands before going near the piano. Lucky for him, his mother was miles away.

His finger hovered over the fine porcelain keys, hesistant. Perhaps he should go wash up..No, he'd rather not. His right index finger pressed down gently on a key, emitting a fairly high note. His left index finger followed suit on the other side, without any sheet music, he couldn't really play much of a tune. When he was young, his mother had suggested that he learn to play an instrument while he studied at home. Narcissa herself had been a skilled pianist, so naturally she wished for her son to follow. Draco hadn't argued much, it seemed to make his mother happy during times when all seemed lost.

Slowly, his fingers pushed the keys, creating a tune. It was a veriation of something his mother used to play when he was first learning, back before she lost her love of the music. His memory guided him, his fingers played almost flawlessly. He was surprised at his accuracy, but then again, he'd heard the song so many times before that it was permanently etched into his mind. It was like the feeling you get when your around a Dementor, something you could never forget.

The sun shone brightly through the windows, filling the open room with warmth. Draco looked around as he played, taking in the emptyness of the room. Suddenly, he was engulfed by an overwhelming sense of loneliness. It was as if a black hole had swallowed him up, refusing to spit him back out. His fingers slipped and the music instantly fell out of his head temporarily. His burst of creativity was gone, the joy of the music evaporated into the warm air.

Draco's body bent over as he placed his elbows on the piano keys. The piano emitted a loud sound, a mix of all the notes put together. The sound echoed throughout the room, bouncing off the walls. He placed his blond head on the cold wood, taking in a deep breath. It was a lonely life he was living, and perhaps he might as well just get used to it.

*

Hermione walked into her half done nursery, admiring the light pink walls and blue carpet. Without the mess of being her computer room, the space actually looked rather large. The single window inside the room allowed warmth from the sunlight to flow into the room, lighing it. Hermione sighed, placing a hand on her swollen belly. She smiled to herself for a moment before walking out into her sitting room.

Her apartment was eerily quiet without Harry's company. The silence bothered Hermione, overwhelming her with a sudden sense of lonliness as she walked into her small kitchen. To create noise, the brunette turned on the clock radio that sat on her counter. Her favourite Muggle radio station filled the air, playing an old jazz song. She tapped her foot to the beat as she rummaged around the kitchen, looking for something she could do to fill her time.

Dammit, Hermione thought to herself. The only thing she found to do was eat, she had to stop herself from reaching for the peanut butter cookies that she'd made three times. Peanut butter cookies were her current biggest weakness, a fortnight ago it had been Chinese food.

She trudged reluctantly back into the sitting room, her feet sounded heavy on the tile floor. The jazz music grew slightly distant. so Hermione grabbed her wand from the coffee table and magically turned it up. She knew it was rather lazy of her, her mother would definately have a fit if she'd seen, but she had an excuse to be lazy. At least for the next four months.

Hermione turned towards the mess that was her sitting room. She frowned at the cluttered space. The way things were strewn about, it made her flat look small and disorganised. She aimed her wand at the pieces of furniture and placed them around the room. When she was finished, she stopped for a moment before rearranging a few things. Yes, she was a perfectionist in home decor as well.

"That's much better now, isn't it Crookshanks?" Hermione asked the orange cat as it came out from hiding behind the island in the kitchen. Crookshanks stared at her, her yellow eyes wide. Hermione let out a deep sigh, then plopped herself down on the couch. The cat inched towards her and jumped up onto the coffe table. He looked around the room, eying the crowded space.

"Get used to it," she told the animal as if it had spoke. "You're not the baby here anymore. Not for long, at least." Crookshanks stared at her blankly. Hermione let out a frustrated sigh as she fell back against the couch pillow. This was it, she'd lost it completely. She was talking to her cat, she just had to be mad. After all, hadn't she read about something called pregnancy insanity?

Hermione stood suddenly when she heard a small tap on the kitchen window. She looked out the transparent glass to find a beautiful barn owl with a letter attached to its leg. She opened the window, allowing the bird to enter. The owl stuck out its leg, offering her the letter. She untied the letter, and the bird took off again.

"Well that was odd," Hermione said to herself as she looked at the yellow parchment. She opened the letter with haste, immediately recognising Harry's hand writing. Inside the folded parchment was a newspaper clipping from the Daily Prophet.

'Mione,

I just got the Prophet and I thought you should see this. It just might be the thing to cheer you up.

Hermione looked at the attached clipping. The picture was of both Headmistress McGonagall and Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt. Both were smiling and speaking to a crowd of Quick Quotes Quills and photographers, answering the odd question. The heading read, "Youth Unemploymet: Issue No More?":

It has come to the attention of the Ministry of Magic that many of today's youth have found themselves unemployed. The youth unemployment rate is at an all-time high, well surpassing what it was after the first fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Due to the most recent fall of the Ministry in 1997, the job market for youth has suffered major loss.

"We are doing all we can to fix this serious problem," reported Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Minister, along with the help of Hogwarts staff, has recently come up with a solution they believe will work.

On Saturday, October 2nd at aproximately one o'clock, an alptitude test will be administered to all recent Hogwarts graduates. The test is meant to better assess a young witch or wizard's abilities. After the results are calculated, they are to be sent out to employers throughout Britain. It is rumoured that applications will be sent out to the graduates starting two weeks after the test.

"If the test is successful, we're hoping to find permanent jobs for our youth," stated Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

That's right kids, don't fret if you haven't quite found your drem job yet. Just go into the Ministry on October 2nd, take the test, and then relax. Wait it out, and eventually you'll be getting job offers out the fireplace. Just don't forget to study your arse off.

Hermione nearly dropped the clipping once she'd finished reading it. She couldn't believe it, the Ministry was actually going to solve her problem! She'd wondered why she hadn't gotten any offers, it's not like she was under qualified. It was still odd that Harry and Ron had both found something already, but she didn't need to worry about that anymore. She could take this test, she was good at taking tests. Actually, she was bloody brilliant at taking tests.

"Bloody hell," Hermione exclaimed, startling Crookshanks who had climbed up onto the counter. The cat meowed loudly before jumping off and onto the floor, hissing at his owner. She ignored her pet, a grin plastered to her face. Good thing she'd insisted on keeping all of her textbooks and notes from Hogwarts after her graduation. She had approximately three weeks to cram in as much studying as possible. Things were finally starting to look up.

To Be Continued

I've finally gotten this chapter finished. So sorry it took so long, I've had a mild case of writer's block plus I just recently got a job so everything's kinda hectic right now. But now, I believe I've got things back on track and I've got big plans for this story. But anyway, thnxx to my two reviewers: Jess, (I believe I did explain why he's having trouble sleeping in the first chapter with his perspective in it. He's under a lot of pressure because of everything that's happened with the war as well as the stress of being the head of the Malfoy family), and scarletwichextreme, (always a pleasure reading your reviews). I'm hoping to be starting the next chapter sometime this week, as long as I have time. Just remember, reviews do tend to motivate me, but I can't make any gauruntees. Hope you're all liking the story, let me know!

Much Love

XXX

Xx-.k.a.y.y.-xX