Unplanned

July 7, 2003

If he was honest, Draco expected to wake up alone after the night after sleeping with Hermione Granger. Even he had a hard time facing the truth the next morning. He had just fucked Hermione Granger.

Multiple times.

Multiple positions.

Multiple locations.

Maybe it was the forbidden aspect, maybe it was the years of tension as foreplay, or maybe it was just the alcohol blur that made him question why he thought she truly was the best lay of his life.

The countertop sex had been new. And something he would very much like to repeat the following Friday night.

Unfortunately, Draco did not get the chance that week. Or the next. Or the week after that. His branch within the Department of International Magical Cooperation had a massive PR scandal to clear up. The obliviating alone took almost a week and the paperwork mirrored small mountains. By the time the evening rolled around on Friday he was too exhausted to make it for drinks, let alone talk Granger into his bed again.

So when she showed up in his office Monday morning, he thought it was strange. "Wrong office Granger? Theo works down the hall."

"Uh, no. I needed to talk to you," She said, staring intensely at the worn pattern on the office carpet.

Draco waited. "What Granger?"

Her fingers curled into fists as her eyes filled with tears. "I'm pregnant," she whispered before she bit her lip.

"I'm sorry, what?" Draco asked, praying to some God that he had misheard her.

"I'm pregnant, and it's yours."

"Are you sure?" Draco questioned, not believing what he was hearing come out of her mouth.

Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed. "Yes, I'm freaking sure," She crossed her arms defensively. "I haven't slept with anyone else."

Draco ran his hands through his hair, practically tugging on the roof. "I thought you were on the potion."

"I am. I was. You know it's only ninety-nine percent effective. It seems like the universe hasn't had enough of fucking with us both and decided to make us the one percent."

Draco moved to his desk and sat down, staring blankly at the paperwork in his to-do pile, his brain not quite absorbing what was coming out of her mouth. Occasionally phrases like "I'm keeping it," and "you don't have to be involved," would flit through long enough to process what was happening.

Hermione Granger was pregnant.

Hermione Granger was pregnant with his child.

She was keeping it and giving him a way out.

He glanced up from his desk, old advice of his father rattling in a distant memory. "Okay then, which do you prefer, silver or gold?"

"What are you talking about?" Hermione stopped her anxious rambling and paused to stare at the man in front of her.

"Granger, you're pregnant with my child. It's proper that I marry you. So I'll ask you again. Would you prefer a silver or gold band?"

"Wh-what in the bloody hell are you talking about?" She sputtered in disbelief. "Malfoy no. You're being outrageous. We are not getting married. I will be having this baby. But, I know neither of us signed up for this. If you want to be involved in this child's life that's fine with me, but we're going to be strictly co-parenting. You don't have to marry me because we got drunk and messed up. No."

He slammed his fist against his desk, taking the frustration of the situation out on something other than the stubborn woman who was pregnant with his child. "I expect to be included in this child's life and your pregnancy Granger, no if's."

"Fine," she said with a tight smile, looking as uncomfortable as he felt. "The first appointment is the twenty-fifth. Prove to me you're more than just talk because you have a very telling history of running and hiding behind mommy's skirts when life gets hard." She left his office with a slam of the door, leaving him alone to his thoughts.

He had knocked up Hermione Granger.

Fuck.