With you in my Arms

13. Facing the Past

It was dark, not pitch black dark more like in the middle of the night dark. There wasn't any sound to be heard either. Hermione found herself on the couch she had fallen asleep on when she had finally returned to Grimmauld Place. There was a warm blanket covering her. She sighed. Harry must have found and covered her with it.

She stretched. It was dark. It was late. She should be at work! She was about to apparate to St Mungo's as her eye caught a large folded sheet of parchment on the mantelpiece. Her name was written on it. She went over and found it to be a note from her best friend.

Nico send word, that your patient has discharged himself. You don't need to go in tonight.

Or course! He had ambushed her in the park and taken her back to their room. She let out a deep sigh. Sinking back onto the couch she wondered, why he had done that. It was time to do some serious thinking she decided. Snuggled into the blanket she let her mind wander.

Why didn't she want to tell him about the baby? Was there any rational reason for it? They had spend one night, one night. He had been saying all sorts of sweet nothings to her. Confessing himself to be in love with her. Him of all people! He had even gone as far as trying to make her believe that he wanted to be with her for the rest of his life no less.

She shuddered as images of that one night came flooding back. His pale skin glowing in the moonlight. Storm cloud grey eyes lingering in appreciation as he looked at her. Too many rows of buttons she had to fight against. Though for a moment there was the knowledge that the fight had been well worth fighting.

He had been sweet, considerate and never made her feel to be anything but the most beautiful girl in the world. His gentleness had taken her by surprise as had his declarations of his feelings for her. Most girls would have probably killed to have a guy like him at their side. His demeanour had suggested that he would use his strength for her protection but never to threaten.

His determination had frightened her. How was she supposed to think of him as the vile creature she had seen for years, if he was laying his life, love and soul at her feet? Even in his utter vulnerability he had been the stronger one. How had he done that? Why was she suddenly the monster, should she reject him?

She bit her bottom lip. Draco Malfoy, son of a notorious Death Eater, marked as one himself. She should have recoiled from his touch but had found she couldn't. With his gentle, long fingers that knew how to entice her to give up all control he had led her down a path she would have never followed so willingly with anybody else. She had let him take over, take control.

Had she enjoyed being with him? Making love to him? She blushed. Yes, she had. Part of her would do again in an instant given half a chance. She had only ever given up her steady grip on her life once and was now contemplating the consequences. She was pregnant. For a moment she wondered, why it bothered her so much to tell him.

The woman in the park was right, of course. She should tell him. He should know that the new life growing within her was as much part of him as it was of her. It was theirs. Was that even a proper word, her logical self suddenly cut in. She didn't really care right now.

Tell him! Tell him! Tell him! Two words and they frightened her more than Voldemort had ever been able to. Why was that? Was it the loss of independence she feared? Or was it just the knowledge that she had spend her first night with none other than the person she had dreaded, loathed, despised and swung a punch at?

She leant her head against the backrest and closed her eyes. His face appeared immediately. It was smiling not sneering or smirking, no, genuinely smiling. He looked very handsome when he was smiling like this. He had always been handsome, but she had never thought about it before. Why would she? You didn't think the boy taunting, calling you names and making fun of you handsome, not if you weren't seriously deranged.

Four girls. He had said that there had only ever been four girls. Though, three a half was more accurate, if he had really only spent a month with Pansy. Who had the others been? Slytherins? Most likely. She couldn't see any self respecting Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff getting involved with him. Lavender, Parvati and the other girls would have gossiped about it otherwise.

She had always wondered how somebody could spent so much time being interested in other people's lives as some of the Griffindor girls had. What did she care, if Padma had a thing for Dean? Or if Justin Finchley-Fletch had kissed Romilda Vane in a broom cupboard every morning, before Filch had got hold of them one day.

She shook her head. There had been gossip about her and Harry for a while, but they had given up on that pretty fast. Ron had been in the picture for a bit, before he started snogging Lavender.

What was she going to do now? She had to tell Draco about the baby obviously, but how she should do that she wasn't quite sure. Write him a letter? No. Something as important as this should only be talked about face to face.

Her mind started to wander. Why had she left the next morning without a word? He had been looking so peaceful as he slept. Contentment had been plastered all over his face. Sleeping with him, feeling his arm around her had been wonderful. She wouldn't mind waking up to this wonderfully warm and fuzzy feeling every morning. His presence had warmed her soul. So, why had she just left?

Deep within her was the knowledge that she had been afraid of what he would be like when he woke up. She had dreaded the possibility of him going back to his sneering, petulant self. Making fun of her. Ridiculing her for being so gullible as to believe him. To be stupid enough to allow him of all people to take her virginity.

As long as he had been asleep she could leave and pretend that he had been sincere with her, that all his sweet words had been the truth for once. She didn't want him to proof her wrong. For that one night she had believed every word he had said, but all sweet nothings of the night meant nothing in the cold light of day. So she had left.

She had gently kissed his cheek as not to wake him and then apparated to the Burrow.