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Future Parents Program	By : avari20 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 58113 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 13
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Disclaimer: I don�t own anything but Ick and my plot.

Pain and Profession

A pain unlike Draco had ever known before ripped through his body, robbing him of breath. Needles jabbed at his organs from all directions, eclipsing the agony of the lacerations, spreading fire through his very blood. �Gods!� he gasped. His back arched in some unconscious attempt to get away, but it was a useless gesture. �Hermione!� His knees gave out under the onslaught, pitching him forward before he could react. Out of nowhere a body collided with his own. Gritting her teeth, Hermione struggled to support his much bigger body with her own. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his waist and sweat beaded on her forehead. �I�ve got you,� she grunted. �We have to get you to the infirmary, Draco.� She was breathing hard under the strain.
Every square inch pressed against her burned like living fire. His wounds demanded he get away from her, the pain so much that Draco couldn�t contain his moans. Instead of letting her go, however, Draco wrapped his own arms around her and pulled her flush against his body. He needed the comfort, needed to keep her safe even in his pitiful state. He despised his weakness even as he slid to the floor in a kneeling position, unable to hold himself up. �Hermione,� he gritted out. His face was buried against her stomach. His breath was labored, and he was finding it difficult to speak beyond her name. �Hermione.�
Soft hands cupped his face and lifted it so that their eyes met, worried brown to pained gray. She tenderly stroked his hair to comfort him even as she spoke in urgent tones. �Listen to me, Draco. It�s very important that you focus on me. You�re suffering from a hallucinogen . It�s going to be very painful and very confusing. You will start to see things that don�t make sense and might even scare you. They aren�t real, Draco. Just remember,� she rushed on, �I�m with you. I won�t leave you alone, and I won�t let anything hurt you. Can you remember to keep looking at me?�
Draco�s arms tightened in response. He never blinked, but searched her face with questioning eyes. Hermione could see the thoughts running through his mind, the realization that she wasn�t suffering in the slightest from her own wound. Suspicions as to why she would know about his agony, and the dawning horror associated with the answers he found. Unable to face the silent interrogation, she hugged him to her. She didn�t even care that his head rested against her soft chest. �I won�t let anything happen to you,� she vowed determinedly. Then, without thought, she pressed fervent kisses to his forehead. �I swear.�
For as long as Draco lived, he would never be able to recall the trip to the infirmary. By the time Dumbledore and his mother found a tearful but determined Hermione, Draco had succumbed to the terrifying visions. Hermione had underestimated the potency of the potion used. No matter how hard Draco had concentrated on her face, no matter how hard he struggled to fight off the pain and make his way down the hall, the potion had overpowered his reason and sent him to the floor in a convulsive fit. Hermione had been reduced to holding his body as still as possible while simultaneously screaming for help.
It was Harry and Ron who came to the rescue. Over the years that had grown sensitive to one another�s needs. The war had only sharpened their bond, and indeed it had been Harry and Ron who had insisted to Dumbledore that something had been terribly wrong with Hermione during that hellish month of captivity. Ron usually caught on after Harry, but perversely it was the redhead who had first sensed Hermione�s need this time. He had been searching for her for endless minutes now, meeting up with Harry in the halls. They too had thrown themselves over the thrashing Malfoy, trying to prevent him from doing more harm to Hermione and himself. Dumbledore and Narcissa along with several other professors had come upon the scene an eternity later.
Draco had been screaming madly by now. Much to his later guilt he had attacked Hermione in a misguided attempt to fight off the demons pinning him to the floor. �Get off me!� He had scratched and pounded, only to have one demon be joined by two others who were much stronger. Objects took on sinister life. They threw themselves at him, had in fact driven Hermione away in to the darkness at the edge of his vision. �Hermione! No!� He couldn�t seem to reach her!
In his head he heard Ick wailing. He saw his father holding Ick to him, grinning evilly and offering the child up as a pagan sacrifice to the Dark Lord, whose eyes glowed heinously. They lay the child on the dais. Angrily, desperately, Draco tried to push through the shadows. Ick! The screams were tearing at him. He had to save her! �No no no no no no no--� A wicked knife raised. He was now looking down a the dais. Ick cried terrified tears, reaching up to him. Oh gods, was that his hand? He tried to hold back, tried to open his fingers and drop the knife, but some unseen force guided his arm until he no longer recognized his own limb. Horror filled him. Tears poured down his face. He shook his head in denial. Please, no, he didn�t want to do this! He loved Ick. Someone stop him! He didn�t want to---he didn�t want to---!
The knife slashed. The crying stopped.
The sight before Draco paralyzed him. Things that he would never tell anyone imprinted themselves on his brain forever more. A wild howl of grief formed in his throat, ripping its way up until it tore from his mouth in a wail. He thought he fell to his knees. His hands burrowed themselves in his hair, and Draco rocked back and forth, lost to his despair.
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He knew before he opened his eyes that she was beside him. Draco was sure that he would always know when she was near, just as he prayed that that is where she would always be.
His eyes opened slightly. Hermione lay on her side in the bed next to him. His breath caught. His heart ached. A big, ugly bruise marred her face, and somehow Draco knew that Hermione had been the �demon� he�d fought. His gaze dropped to where Ick was cradled tenderly between them, her little face buried in her daddy�s chest. At some point Draco had wrapped an arm around them both and drawn them close, unable to bear distance even in sleep. Draco hesitantly raised a trembling hand to brush a finger across Ick�s smooth cheek. She wriggled slightly, her little nose wrinkling. She heaved a sigh to big for her little body and nestled closer. So small and so trusting.
Abruptly tears pricked Draco�s eyes. She was alright. For a moment he had been terrified that the nightmares had been real, that somehow he had managed to hurt one of those most precious to him. He closed his eyes and swallowed painfully. Thank the gods, he thought. Thank the gods.
�Draco?� a soft voice whispered. �Are you crying?� A hesitant hand brushed his hair away from his pale face. Without opening his eyes he grabbed it and dragged it palm-up to his lips, silently sobbing while he pressed impassioned kisses in the skin. The sight broke Hermione�s heart. She raised herself quickly on one elbow and gathered him to her as close as she could without crushing Ick, cradling him like a child. �Shh,� she whispered. �It�s all right. It wasn�t real, and now you�re with us again.�
Draco buried his face in her neck and held her. �I thought you were dead,� he whispered brokenly. �I couldn�t reach you. I did that to your face, didn�t I? I�m sorry, I�m sorry- And Ick--oh, gods, Hermione, what I did- I kil- I- I--� He couldn�t say the words aloud, couldn�t admit his abject shame. In their entire school experience Hermione had never seen him like this. She had never dreamed that Draco could feel such deep despair, or show it so readily. These past few days had been full of startling revelations for her. Right now Draco was like a lost child, desperate for a way to feel better. Hermione pressed her lips to his ear and did her best to comfort him.
�I know,� she confessed. �I know what you thought happened. I--I�ve seen those things too.�
Draco quieted in her arms, listening, not judging. Somehow Hermione found the strength to tell him the things she could not tell Ron or Harry. �When I was-- When Voldemort kidnapped me, he put me in a very dark room with no windows. I didn�t know what day it was, how much time passed. I forgot what the sun looked like. I didn�t want light at all, I wanted to stay in the dark.� She shivered. �Light meant that the door to my prison was open, and that he was coming.� Draco�s hand absently brushed her back.
�Hermione,� he breathed. �Did he-?�
�No,� she denied quietly. �Not physically. He beat me. He had tried to curse me but it didn�t work, so he used a whip. That wasn�t enough for him. He used to soak the whip in a potion.� Her voice caught. �I had such terrible nightmares, Draco. Things that still haunt me.� She looked down at the sleeping Ick. �I knew these things weren�t real, but it didn�t stop me from being afraid that somehow I was really capable of doing those horrible things. That maybe Ick wasn�t really safe with me.�
Very terrible truths were becoming clear to Draco. The fear he had felt after only one episode multiplied by one awful month, and Draco wondered how Hermione had kept her sanity. She had appeared so calm with Ick, never once hinting that her reticence was in fact founded on profound alarm. He swallowed against the lump in his throat and forced the images clamoring in his brain away as she continued. �I�ve never told anyone about that place, not even Harry or Ron. During the final battle I managed enough energy to unhinge the door and escape into the woods. That�s where Dumbledore found me, and he hid me away from Harry and Ron until I was healed. But somehow�..I think they know. I think that they�re just waiting for me to tell them.�
Draco managed to summon a ghost of his trademark smirk. �Those ruffians possessing intuition? Highly unlikely. Probably just planning their next meal,� he scoffed without rancor. Hermione flashed a smirk of her own, her eyes suspiciously damp. �Those ruffians are the ones who carried you up here. You might want to consider thanking them.�
�Consider? Possibly. Doing? Not a chance.�
�I would have thought the Malfoy family honor would demand some sort of restitution. You know, to repay a debt,� Hermione stressed playfully. Draco rubbed his nose on her sleeve in mischevious response, letting her know what he thought about that little gem. Hermione squealed despite herself. Ick rubbed her eyes sleepily and blinked up at them, obviously wondering what the devil was going on. �It�s his fault,� Hermione told her quickly.
Draco cast her a mock evil eye. �It is not,� he denied disdainfully. �I would never do anything to disturb Ick, would I, baby?� he asked the little girl. She blinked once, twice, then grinned as she burrowed into Hermione�s side. Hermione gave a surprised laugh. Draco pretended outrage. �What�s this? Going over to the other side, are we? Baby mice deserting the sinking ship? I�ll remember this, you little runt,� he growled. He ran his hands up and down Ick�s sides, tickling her mercilessly. She lay on her back and grabbed a finger in each little fist. �Dada, thtop!� she giggled in little girl delight.
Both teenagers stopped cold. They stared in wonder at the toddler. �Did you hear that, Hermione? She talked,� Draco stuttered. Hermione nodded. �She called you Dada, Draco.� A curious rush of warmth suffused her. Draco sat up beside her, ignoring his protesting body and held Ick up until they were eye to eye. �Did you call me Dada, Ick?�
Ick patted his cheeks. �My dada.� She leaned in and planted a little kiss right on his left eye. Pride and something akin to joy threatened to overflow in Draco. He hugged his little one tightly and blinked rapidly. Ick looked at him curiously. �Dada cwy?�
Draco laughed. �Yes, Dada cry.� He wiped his face sheepishly and looked down at Hermione. �Dada happy.� Because he had to, he lay back down. Because he wanted to, he held Hermione close and nestled Ick between them. Because he needed to, he held onto them as he drifted off into healing sleep, content.
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Hours later, Hermione arose from the bed. She eased Ick out with her, and carefully made her way out of the infirmary without waking Draco. She needed to think. She needed to plan. She needed to talk to Ron and Harry.
Twenty minutes after reassuring Narcissa yet again that Draco was fine, Hermione was on the hunt. Contrary to Draco�s assumption that only one night had passed, it had in fact been three. Hermione had gotten more than her fair share of curious glances from her classmates due to Draco�s handiwork on her face, but she had also gotten a good look at what life as a mother was like. Ick demanded a lot of time and attention, and for once Hermione found it difficult to concentrate in class. She had managed it somehow, getting help from the strangest place.
Slytherins.
Twenty-four minutes into her first class of the day Hermione had realized that unlike herself, Ick wasn�t going to be entertained by Ancient Runes alone. Oh, she had stared in childlike fascination at the pages of the text, but a toddler had only so much attention span. When that time was up, Hermione had remembered with painful clarity that Ick had no toys with which to occupy herself. Or so she thought.
After ten more minutes of watching Hermione struggle, Blaise Zabini calmly reached over and lifted the baby out of Hermione�s arms. Ignoring her stunned stare, he returned to his note taking without missing a beat. Ick had amused herself with his tie for several moments before Hermione had snapped out of her stupor. Ick was apparently safe for the moment, and Hermione was falling behind. Reluctantly she had returned her attention to the lecture, but double-checked on Blaise and the baby every five minutes. Harry had grinned at her from across the room and given her the ok, letting her know that Blaise had done this before.
In fact, it seemed almost all of the Slytherins had done this before! And not just with Ick, but with the twins as well. Apparently they recognized potential in the two, and did their best to relieve either Pansy or Ron when they could. Strangely enough, Pansy was more reticent to the idea than even Ron. Hermione had frankly thought she was losing her mind at first. But the more she observed the Slytherin Princess, the more she became convinced Pansy was actually enamored with her offspring. She touched them often and played with them whenever possible. Did Ron realize any of this, Hermione wondered?
The kicker came in Snape�s class. Ick had been fussing, reaching for ingredients as Hermione tried to concentrate on performing the proper motions when Snape had stalked up to her desk. Hermione had cuddled Ick protectively close, ready for a blistering lecture and a million point deduction, when Snape had unclasped his hands from behind his back--and calmly handed Ick a doll! Hermione�s mouth had fallen open. Hard. She�d watched in amazement when Snape casually turned and strode off like nothing momentous had occurred, leaving Hermione to wallow in her dazed state.
She shook her head now, still unsure of what to make of it all. And wonders simply never ceased, she thought, waving at Michael and Ginny as they passed. Apparently Malfoy had sent a newly naked Michael crash landing right onto Ginny�s homework in the library. For a reason Hermione really didn�t want to touch on, the two had been inseparable ever since. Hermione supposed she should have been feeling a bit put out over it all.
That was why she needed to talk to her friends. Not only did losing her crush to Ginny not hurt at all, but Hermione was beginning to suspect that her affections had focused in a new, wholly unexpected direction. But was such a thing possible, or was she deluding herself? How did Malfoy feel about her? Did she want to know? Did she want to take this partnership to a whole new level?
She needed to talk to Harry and Ron now.
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�So,� Harry Potter wondered to himself. �How did you manage to end up like this?�
Harry had his bum pressed to a sun-warmed wall, barely squeezing into the space between the stone and the flora. His nose twitched. Blasted hay fever. He hoped fervently he wouldn�t sneeze and give the game away. He was on his hands and knees, scuffing up the one good pair of trousers he had with him. The only means of invisibility he had right now was a rather prickly hedge and a sort of shuffle technique getting him from point A to point B.
He cautiously wiggled his fingers around in the leaves until he had a sort of peep hole formed. One green eyes pressed as close as it dared, focusing in on Luna right away. She sat in one of the lesser rooftop courtyards. True to form, she bypassed the bench entirely and opted for a grassy seat. She smiled at the antics of a lively toddler, who had found a new delight in a magical ball. Every time she touched it, the ball turned into a blue puppy of some kind and cheerfully scampered away. The child, Hazel, giggled in ecstasy and gave chase. He watched Luna play with the baby, crooning softly and laughing occasionally. She had a pretty nice laugh. It was warm and deep, wrapping itself around him in strange ways. She seemed to really like being a mother.
Harry had spent the better part of an hour glued to a bush and this very scene. His shoulders were getting stiff, and he was fairly certain the crick in his neck was going to become permanent if something didn�t change soon. He rubbed his nose again, never blinking in case something happened. Luna had become some sort of magnet for him�he couldn�t seem to make himself leave.
Sure, it wasn�t the first time he�d ever spied on anyone. He�d done it loads of times, for important reasons�. and not so important ones too. But never before had he felt the need to spy on Luna Lovegood. He was frankly beginning to get a bit worried about it. For instance, when did Luna get pretty? He�d known the girl for the better part of six years. Somehow he had never noticed that her features were actually quite nice to look at.
This new discovery, however, still didn�t account for what he was currently doing.
Maybe he was just worried. Something was obviously the matter. Harry�s forehead creased thoughtfully. Night was falling and Luna should have been taking her child inside, but she showed no sign of doing so soon. It was like she was avoiding it. Harry had noticed the way Blankenship had been treating her. �Reluctant� didn�t quite describe it. Ruddy idiot, Harry thought to himself darkly. Luna could be a bit off the wall, but she wasn�t a bad sort at all. Rather nice to be around, actually. Definitely not boring.
It would have been simple to just walk up to her and start up a conversation. He�d done it plenty of times before. Casually stroll up, sit down, and ease a few questions in so that he could find out what the problem was and take care of it. Simple. So why was he in a bush? Why didn�t he do this supposedly simple thing and stop acting like a Peeping Tom?
This new weight on his chest seemed to pin him to the spot, that�s why! His heart suddenly accounted for seventy percent of his body weight and wouldn�t let him move. It just beat with thunderous intensity, making his blood race in a way he hadn�t thought would happen so soon after his breakup with Ginny. Not with Luna.
It was the way she seemed so focused on her child. It made her glow in a way that refused to go unnoticed, drawing attention to things like how pretty she was and the like. Things that had probably always been there, but Harry had been too wrapped up in other distractions to notice. He didn�t know what this new feeling was quite yet, but was sure that one conversation with the girl currently sitting on the ever dampening grass would clear up any confusion.
And that terrified him. So he stayed where he was, between a bush and a hard place, afraid to go, hating to stay.
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Ronald was having his own crisis. He was pacing his room in agitation, turning the events of the past few days over in his mind. Why had he defended Pansy Bloody Parkinson, the Slytherin equivalent of Gryffindor�s Princess? Why did he get all warm and fuzzy inside when he watched her with the twins? Why did he think of her so much? Why was he bloody well watching her so much?!
He cast an aggravated glance at the door. There were a million things he should be doing� He could go play Quidditch, or actually study, or he could jump into the Black Lake in some mad attempt to clear his mind�.. Blasted Gryffindor honor! Look where it got him. Defending Slytherins, thinking about Slytherin girls, wondering what Pansy would look like without a scowl�.
Downright wrong, if you asked him. The red headed giant delivered a swift kick to the nearest bench in aggravation. The poor bench jumped and banged against the wall. He marched off in huffy satisfaction, stubbornly ignoring the pain in his big toe. He rushed out the door and bounded down the stairs, but came to a screeching halt at the foot.
He really shouldn�t have been surprised, he thought as he stared in open wonderment at the scene before him. They did share a common room, after all. He was bound to run into her there. Except that Pansy had been retreating to the Slytherin common room the past few nights, the same way he had bunked at Malfoy�s�..
All that aside, it wasn�t her presence that stunned Ron, but what she was doing. Pansy the Heartless, the Great Weasley Hater herself, was dancing�with the twins. Musical instruments of all kinds levitated all over the room, playing a rousing tune without the aid of human hands. Pansy was singing at the top of her lungs in a very nice voice, a twin wrapped in each arm. She danced around without a set pattern, caught up in music and the joy of the moment. She�d left off her robe, giving Ron a close up look of her bare legs and feet.
Ron couldn�t seem to grasp what was happening right in front of him. Was this really Pansy Parkinson? The Ice Queen? Laughing?

This wasn�t doing his resolve any good. No sir. His mind was clouding up more than before, not clearing. His thoughts were fuzzy now. The world around him seemed to blur until he could only see Pansy dancing daintily, more free than he had ever seen her. He started to forget that she was a Slytherin or why he couldn�t risk liking her, much less caring about her the way he was in danger of doing.

What had been the problem, again?
Pansy made a sharp turn, spinning on her heel fast and heedless. She couldn�t stop herself from tripping over her own feet. �Whoa!� she gasped when she stumbled. She felt herself falling forward. Her eyes closed out of instinct. She braced herself for an impact with the floor. But breathless seconds before it happened, big warm arms wrapped themselves around all three people and snatched them up. The air whooshed in her ears with the speed of her sudden rescue, and Pansy�s eyes flew wide open.
She found herself pressed firmly into a well-formed chest�and staring dazedly into the startled blue eyes of none other than Ronald Weasley.
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Just when she was about to give up, Hermione found herself surrounded by the very Gryffindors she�d been searching for, plus one. Neville arrived first, nearly running Hermione over where she rested on a bench. From the right she could see Ron speeding down the hall as if the hounds of hell were on his heels, and around the corner came Harry a second later. The four looked each other in the eyes and blurted out the thing on all their minds.
�We need to talk.�

A/N- Well, now, it�s been awhile, hasn�t it? I hope you guys are happy with my newest addition. Only one more chapter to go! Please tell me what you think!
A/N2--oh, and the title��Profession is used in the context that Hermione is professing, or confessing something.
- 13
- 14
- 15
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