Forget Me Not (Draco/Hermione)

Chapter Thirteen- Options

[A/N: Apologies to pop up at the start of a chapter yet again but just flagging this up as a little trigger warning. This chapter refers to abortion and I just want to highlight that whilst I have an opinion on this subject, I understand that it is a contentious issue. The decisions of the characters would not necessarily correspond to my own in the situation. Sorry to casually just throw this up there but I just don’t want to cause any upset. Oh, and thank you all for reading and favouriting. You’re all brilliant and I love you. Yes, it is quarter to two in the morning and revision is destroying what was left of my brain. Anyway, enjoy!]

‘You lied to me.’

‘It wasn’t exactly a lie…’

‘When were you going to tell me then that you- that you got me… PREGNANT?’ Hermione screamed, flinging the pillow straight at Draco’s head. He ducked to avoid it and it sailed into the wall. ‘When?!’

‘Soon. When you were ready…’ The vase followed the pillow. Draco held up his hands in surrender as shards of vase flew everywhere. ‘Look, careful. You need to stay calm.’ The intern had long since fled.

‘Or what?’ Hermione was nearly hysterical. ‘Your baby might come out with two heads? With scales?! It might come out like… like its grandfather?’ She paused and clung to the bedrest, a sudden thought nauseating her. ‘That it might come out with its own little Dark Mark.’

Draco paled. ‘You’re being irrational,’ he said, emphasising each word. He took a step forward and caught her wrist as she hit out at him.

‘I’m not-‘

‘An hour ago, you were willing to make things work.’

‘An hour ago, I didn’t know I was pregnant.’ Bile rose in her throat. ‘I- I can’t handle this.’

‘Yes, you can. We’ll handle it together-‘

‘Well, there goes your pure-blood line,’ Hermione added, bitterly.

‘Who says that matters to me anymore?’ Draco replied, darkly.

‘It did once.’

‘People change.’

‘Get out.’ Draco stared at her blankly. ‘Get out!’ she screamed, freeing her wrist from his grasp and pushing him away, hard. He took a few steps back, his face falling. ‘Just go! And take- take your ring with you.’ With that, she yanked the ring from her finger and threw it as hard as she could at his retreating head.

***************************************

There was a light knock at the door.

‘Go away,’ Hermione called out weakly, crossly rubbing at her sore, reddened eyes. She flinched as she heard the door scrape open. A head popped around but it was only Healer McCarthy.

‘Hey, how’s everything… going?’ McCarthy’s voice trailed off as she surveyed the damage before her: the broken vase, the ripped pillows, the flowers strewn across the floor. ‘Ah.’

‘When were you going to tell me?’ She looked up and frowned. Her patient was huddled on the bed, curled up into a small ball, with her back towards the door.

‘Soon.’ Hermione’s back visibly shuddered at the word. ‘We were told- Our seniors informed us not to.’ McCarthy hoped the small white lie would last. She carefully moved across to the bed. ‘Can I get you anything?’

Hermione shook her head, fresh tears flowing from her eyes and falling onto the bedding.

‘A few weeks ago,’ she whispered. ‘I had everything.’ She loudly sniffed. ‘I was back at Hogwarts. We had saved the world. I was Head Girl with my future ahead of me and now look at me. I’ve lost ten years of my life, I can barely recognise my closest friends-‘ She stifled a sob. ‘I can’t even recognise myself. Not only am I married but I’m married to a man who I remember hating and I’m- I’m pregnant with his baby.’