Their Favorite Mistakes

A/N: Many thanks to my readers who urged me to write a sequel to TGM sooner rather than later. I hope this will be to your liking. To those of you who have not read my fic “Their Greatest Mistake,” don’t worry; it’s not required. There will be a few references throughout this, but can be read on its own.

Nic (sirsevchick) has been kind enough to beta for me, and to her I own many thanks. She’s a doll. Now, onto the fic : )

xx


Another day, another crisis.

At least, that was how life seemed to be working recently for Hermione. In the past month, not a day had gone by when there didn’t seem to be some sort of crisis.

It had all started on Monday, the first of November. That was the lovely day she had woken up to discover she had fallen asleep while working on organizing her seventh year thesis paper, had slept through her alarm, and she still didn’t have an outline finished; which was, coincidentally, due first period during a meeting with McGonagall. Oh, and did she mention that her husband had wanted some shower sex?

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, in fact, she very much did, which led to the other crisis of arriving at her meeting, late, while being sexually frustrated. Oh, and she was sputtering excuses as to why she, the Head Girl, still didn’t have her outline prepared. None of her excuses were true, either, and Hermione was a horrible liar. The real reason was that she and Draco had been at multiple Halloween parties over the weekend – it was very difficult, being a part of both Muggle and Magical Society – and she had been thoroughly exhausted on Sunday and had slept in most of the day. Well, to be honest, there wasn’t a whole lot of sleeping.

But the moral of the story was November 1 had been a very bad day. McGonagall had been extremely disappointed and gave her an extension, but Head duties came up, and, well, it was bad. And the rest of the month had been just like that.

Of course, not all of the crises were academic in nature. There had been a personal crisis when Ron and Pansy had an outrageous fight. Ron didn’t want to talk to Harry about it, which was understandable considering Harry and Ginny were all hunky-dory, so he had turned to Hermione hoping that, since she was a girl, she could help. She had tried her best, but it had happened during the second week of the month, which was, coincidentally that time of the month. So her patience was running thin to begin with.

Then when Draco hadn’t been able to help Pansy, she had turned to Hermione, as well. After one conversation with the emotional girl – who claimed she loved Ron with all her heart, but didn’t know if he felt the same way about her and didn’t want to be in a relationship that was unequal – Hermione had flat-out told her to go speak to Ginny. The two surprisingly got along, and Hermione had already had too many conversations with Ron to pass him off on another girl to help, especially one who wouldn’t be all that sympathetic seeing as she was related to him.

But it all worked out in the end. In fact, Ron had even given Pansy a promise ring to demonstrate his feelings for her and confessed that he loved her. After many tears, the gold ring with a single pearl was accepted and the couple was back together and essentially engaged.

Hermione was exhausted.

The rest of the month passed in much of the same way. Needless to say, Hermione really wasn’t looking forward to getting up this morning. Not if it was going to be like the past thirty mornings.

Then again, it was December 1. Maybe because it was a new month, that wouldn’t happen. Just in case, though, she wasn’t getting up quite yet. You never could tell how a day was going to go, and who was she to make it start earlier than necessary?

She was beginning to agree with Luna and think that there was some sort of Inklewex floating around her. Or whatever the younger girl had called it. She couldn’t remember at the moment.

Sighing a little, she rolled over in bed and closer into Draco’s arms. Still half-asleep, he drew her closer so her nose was tucked in his neck and he was holding her as if he thought he would lose her. It was typical for him, and she loved it. She loved him.

She sighed again, this time in happiness. It was a new month. Things would be better.

* * *


The day had turned out better than expected. There had been no academic crisis; in fact, she had finally gotten caught up with McGonagall and was had even gotten a chance to start writing her essay. For the first time all year, no Prefects had come up to either her or Draco and with some sort of conflict or problem with the patrol schedule. All of her friends were happy and healthy. Overall, she thought to herself, it was a good day.

She stretched and settled on the couch in their living room in front of a blazing fire, a brand new book on her lap and a mug of hot cocoa in her hand. Happily she returned back to reading, pleased with having a very normal day. It was a very nice change.

She hadn’t been reading for very long when the portrait opened and Draco walked in, whistling merrily. Immediately he walked over to where she was sitting and wrapped his arms around her from behind, kissing her sweetly on the cheek. Leaning into his embrace, she smiled blissfully. Now this is happiness.

“Hi,” he whispered into her ear.

“Hi,” she whispered back.

After a few moments of just staying like that, Draco reluctantly pulled away and cracked his back. “I’m so glad the day is over,” he said, coming around the couch to collapse wearily next to her. “I mean, it wasn’t a particularly challenging day. Especially compared to the kind of month you’ve had. But still.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, and then his forehead in his hands.

Hermione leaned forward and placed her mug of cocoa on the coffee table along with her book before turning and giving her full attention to Draco. It might have been a harder month for her, but he could still have bad days, too. And being in a relationship was all about give and take. “Your day doesn’t need to be horrible for it to be bad, Draco,” she said softly, rubbing little circles on her back. “What happened?”

Gratefully he looked up at her from his hands and smiled briefly. “Well, for one there was double Transfiguration and double Potions. And who needs two double classes in two days? Oh, and remember how Snape held me after to talk to me?” She nodded, remembering the strange incident. Draco hadn’t done anything wrong during class, and it wasn’t like Snape ever had any problem praising him in front of the rest of the class before. “Well, he wants me to call him Severus in private.”

Hermione frowned. “I don’t follow.”

“I didn’t either, at first.” He sighed deeply, and returned his head to his hands. “He wants permission to date Mother. Oh, I’m sorry, court. He wants to court her.” Hermione started, shocked. Now that she hadn’t seen coming.

Trying her best to be supportive, she asked, “What did you say?”

“Yes. I mean, if Mother wants to date him, it’s not really my business, is it? And as long as he makes her happy, I’m happy. But it’s just weird, beyond weird, actually.” Hermione smiled supportively at him and started rubbing more circles to calm him and waited for him to say more.

She wasn’t disappointed. “And then, after all of that, there was that stupid Prefects meeting. Don’t get me wrong, being Head Boy is nice and all, but it’s a good thing that they were okay with you taking an evening to yourself. The sixth years have decided that they don’t think we are creative enough to come up with decorations for the castle this year, so I spent an hour listening intently to their new ideas,” he said sarcastically.

Hermione frowned. “It’s our decision how to decorate. We’re the Head students. It’s their job to actually do the decorating, which, of course, we help with. They know the rules.”

Draco laughed. “Don’t worry. I took careful notes of their ideas, said we’d consider them, and then incinerated the notes on my way up. It’s our decision, and we’ll come up with the decorations. I’m just glad they brought that up in the sixth year meeting instead of in the full meeting on Sunday.”

“True,” she agreed. When he remained silent and just leaned into her touch, she asked, “Did you get a chance to eat anything? You weren’t at dinner.”

Groaning, he replied, “I completely forgot about dinner. Talking to Snape – oh, sorry, Severus -- took much too long.”

With a loving kiss to his temple, she immediately stood up and said, “Well, then, wait here.” Before he could ask any questions, she had left their rooms, and he was alone.

But it was very easy to comply with her command. After all, there was no way he was going anywhere now that he was back in their apartments. He was so tired, and so hungry. She probably went to get me some food, he thought to himself.

About twenty minutes later, just when Draco was about to get worried, he heard the portrait open. Spinning around, he spotted his beaming wife with a tray of food in each hand. “I owled Vincente,” she explained, setting down the trays on the coffee table. Eagerly he took the tops off of them, his mouth watering at the delicious smell of Italian food. Hermione laughed as he dug in with as much gusto as Ron usually did, and took a fork of her own and managed to snag a mouthful or two of spaghetti.

“You know,” he said thoughtfully as they cuddled half-an-hour later. His back rested against the arm of the couch, and she sat between his legs, resting against his chest. “I think Vincente might just be the best friend I ever made.”

Hermione scoffed. “The best friend you ever made?” she asked incredulously. “If I do remember, Vincente likes me best.”

With a laugh of his own, Draco bent down to nibble on her ear. “Yes, but I’m the one who found his restaurant and who brought him the ‘lovely Duchessa,’” he pointed out, imitating the older Italian man who owned their favorite restaurant in Hogsmeade.

With a slight turn, Hermione had access to kiss him on the lips. Once she did, she whispered huskily, “I don’t want to talk about Vincente anymore.”

He might have been tired earlier, but he definitely wasn’t any more. “Okay,” he whispered back, and captured her lips once again. When she kissed him, it had been soft and sweet. His kiss was gentle, but much more urgent.

Hermione broke the kiss only to turn around fully so as to not hurt her neck. Wanting as much contact as possible, she put her hands on the arm of the couch on either side of his head, pressing her body fully against his. Their kisses became increasingly more heated, and within moments his hands were under her shirt, removing her bra, and on her breasts. She moaned, and soon her shirt was gone too.

“You’re wearing too much,” she managed to pant between kissing his neck. In response, he tried to get his shirt off, but couldn’t until she leaned back and gave him space. When it took too long to get the button-down off, she leaned back in to help with the buttons and, in the process, ground herself against him.

It was his turn to moan, and in minutes her skirt and tights were off, as well as his trousers and boxers. They did their best to toe off shoes and socks, but they were generally unsuccessful. But, truly, it didn’t matter as long as Hermione was on her back on the floor and Draco was on top of her.

In moments, he was in her, as well, which was even better. “Love you,” they breathed in unison as he entered her, but soon the sentimental moment was over. Draco pounded in her as she moaned his name, and moments after he brought her to climax, he came, as well.

He collapsed on top of her and rolled off, very happy. She turned to look at him, stars in her eyes. “I love you,” she whispered.

Drawing her close, he whispered, “I love you more.”

* * *


A week later and life was still blissfully normal. There was the occasional disagreement in her life – after all, Harry, Ron, and Draco might be civil to one another most of the time, but that didn’t mean they were friends – but it was all under control.

In fact, everything was going wonderfully. It was a beautiful day, there were no Prefect problems, and she was finally ahead with her homework again. It was so frustrating to merely be caught up with her homework; she didn’t know how everyone did it. Being ahead was much nicer.

There was just one thing that was bothering her. Truthfully, she knew there was something she was forgetting, but she couldn’t remember what. Was she supposed to do something? Or maybe she was supposed to talk to someone? She couldn’t remember. It was really bothering her.

But oh well. She supposed she would remember eventually.

Shaking her head to clear it, she turned back to her closet, which she was organizing. The House Elves kept it neat, but she liked to organize it a different way than they did, so she was moving some things around, hanging jumpers and refolding jeans and making sure her skirts and dresses were arranged by color, size, season, and function. You know, normal things.

Suddenly, she heard Draco arrive with a slam of the portrait and a call of, “Hermione?”

“Up here!” she called back. The sound of footsteps was her response, and moments later he poked his head into her closet.

“If last month was bad for you, then this month is certainly shaping up to be bad for me,” he stated with a scowl.

Hermione looked up at him from her spot on the floor and frowned sympathetically. “I’m sorry, love. What happened? I haven’t seen you since lunch, and things were fine then.”

With a sigh, he looked around and then sat on the floor next to her before saying, “Just one of those days, I suppose. I mean, things were good until lunch. And then Dumbledore wanted to talk to me about the decorations – he took the long way to say that he approves of our plans, by the way – so I was late for Charms. Then Flitwick had to tell me what I missed, so I was late for my meeting with Snape.”

He paused, and then frowned some more. “I can’t call him Severus. I really can’t. I know he wants me too, but I can’t. Especially after the lecture he gave me about being late so much today. I mean, that was definitely more professor-like than possible-step-father-like. I mean, it’s not my fault I was late so much!”

Immediately, Hermione stiffened and stared ahead, her mouth open a little. Late. Oh sweet merciful mother of Merlin. That’s what it was. That’s what was wrong. She was three days late. Her period was supposed to have come on Sunday, and today was Wednesday.

“Hermione?”

Draco’s concern successfully snapped her out of her reverie. Blushing, she said, “Sorry, just remembered something. I have to go.” In moments she was out of her closet, and she barely managed to remember to grab her wand before she was in one of their secret passageways. The Head students had two secret passageways from their rooms – one apiece – and they took them to whichever common room they wished, provided they phrased themselves correctly.

“My name is Hermione Malfoy, and I am the Head Girl of Hogwarts. I need to get into the Gryffindor Tower to see and speak to Ginny Weasley,” she stated clearly once inside what appeared to be a small closet, and then a doorway appeared. Nervously, she opened it and found herself in Gryffindor, right next to the portrait hole.

Luckily, Ginny was sitting by the fire reading a magazine, and she was alone. Before anyone really noticed her, Hermione rushed up to her best friend. “Hermione? What’s wrong?” Ginny asked, looking up in time to see her friend’s terrified face before she was attacked with a hug.

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” Hermione said in a much-too-high voice. “Er, let’s go for a walk, shall we?”

Ginny agreed, clearly worried. “Okay,” she said slowly. “Let’s do that.”

In minutes the two were out of the portrait. More than a little confused, Ginny patiently waited for Hermione to speak. Well, technically she followed behind rather impatiently as Hermione led a path to a corridor that wasn’t currently being used for anything that term and then found an unused classroom.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Ginny settled on top of a table while Hermione closed the door and warded it. “Spill,” she demanded the instant Hermione seemed satisfied.

“I think I might be pregnant,” the older girl whispered, looking anywhere but at the redhead.

When five minutes passed and no sound had been heard from Ginny, Hermione finally chanced a look. Ginny’s jaw was wide open, and her eyes wide in shock as she stared. Finally, she seemed to be able to grasp coherent thought. “Are you sure?”

Tears in her eyes, Hermione shook her head. “No, I’m not. I’m only three or four days late, but there was this one time when we didn’t use anything last week. I don’t know if it’s too soon or not, but, well . . .” She trailed off, letting Ginny’s imagination fill in the rest. It wasn’t hard too. “I haven’t done the spell yet, because it’d definitely be too soon for the normal spell. There is another, but I need someone else to do it for me.”

Ginny was already nodding by the time that she had finished speaking. “What is it?” Gratefully, Hermione explained what it was, how to do it, and what the possible results were. After a few tries, Hermione was satisfied with the younger girl’s wrist inflections and incantation pronunciations and raised her blouse enough so her abdomen was visible.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Ginny said clearly, “Aperio Gravida.”

There was a pause, and for half a second Hermione thought it hadn’t worked. Then, a faint but definite red glow surrounded Hermione’s stomach, and both girls let out a breath they hadn’t realized they had been holding.

Unnecessarily, Ginny said, “Well, there you have it. You’re pregnant.”

* * *


It was late by the time Hermione returned to her and Draco’s rooms, but she didn’t really notice. After the spell had said she was pregnant, she made Ginny do it three more times – all coming up positive – before she finally believed it. Then they had talked about it for a long time before they realized the time and both girls had scurried off to their rooms.

It was such a strange thing, though. I mean, could it really be? Was she really pregnant? She was responsible for another life now. A life that was half her and half Draco.

Draco.

She hoped he wasn’t too worried. He probably would be, but she really wanted to just think on it. “I should tell him,” she muttered to herself as she walked in through the portrait.

“Tell who what?” The person in question looked up from where he was on the couch, a deeply worried frown on his face. “I sincerely hope you’re talking about telling me what earlier was all about. I mean, you just ran off and you’re coming back near midnight. Hermione, what’s going on?”

She took a deep breath, preparing to excuse herself when the words fell from her mouth. “I’m pregnant.”

Complete silence greeted her. Instead of avoiding looking at him, like she had with Ginny, she kept watching him. Right now, his face just showed his complete and total shock. After a few minutes, she got bored and more than a bit worried. “Draco?” she asked timidly, trying to get a reaction from him.

“Are – are – are you positive?” he asked, mystified.

Swallowing, she nodded. “Yeah. I made Ginny do the spell four times before I would believe it. It’s still early – I think about a week – and I haven’t gone to Madame Pomfrey yet, but I was going to tomorrow. I want you to be there, though.”

He nodded, still clearly in shock. Nervously she moved towards where he still sat on the couch. “What do you think?” she asked quietly, terrified for what he would say. “I mean, I know it’s a little earlier than we planned, but – ”

“Oh!” he interrupted, finally looking at her face and actually seeing it. “Hermione, I’m happy. Honestly, I am. I’m just in shock.”

Beaming at him, she asked, “Really?”

He smiled and pulled her down onto her lap. “Really, I love you and I love any and all children we have and will have together.”

The tears she hadn’t even realized were in her eyes spilled over. “Oh, Draco, I’m so glad to hear you say that. I was so worried you’d be angry because it was early and unplanned and everything.”

Gently, he kissed her. “Never, sweetheart.” Slowly he stretched out a hand and rested it on her stomach. “Now, this is our child and I will love it and you forever.”