All in the Family: Chapter Eight
Title: All in the Family (8/?)
Rating: R (or M for mature)
Genre: Humor, romance, a hint of drama
Pairing(s): Draco/Harry, Draco/Hermione (implied), Ginny/Luna (implied)
Warning: While mostly canon-compliant, this fic boldly and blatantly ignores that the epilogue ever happened.
Summary: "I think, first of all, we shouldn't tell anyone. And secondly, we shouldn't talk about it. Most importantly, it's probably just a good idea if we pretend it never happened."
Something happened between Draco and Hermione, something that never should have even been considered . . .
Reviews accepted and appreciated. Feedback is love!
Harry's palms were sweating. He wiped them on his pants, above the darkened damp fabric where he'd been wiping them before they'd become soaked entirely.
They didn't know he was coming. Or maybe they did. Maybe they were sitting in wait and giggling like school girls about the romantic notion of Harry coming to whisk away his lover in a passionate reunion. Despite his nerves and the frantic rolicking of his stomach, the image made him smile.
His feet made a heavy thump as they hit the stairs. Up, up, up, he went, thinking out his opening lines with every fall of his shoe. "I'm sorry I was an ass," he'd say. "I'm sorry I didn't love you enough to forgive you."
He remembered a similar anxious trip up these stairs, and the anger he'd felt that overwhelmed that sinking, falling feeling that his life was crumbling apart.
Why? he'd asked, furious and hurt and sad, What made you want to sleep with him?
It wasn't that I wanted to, Hermione had replied. It just happened, Harry. We didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't want this to happen.
They circled the same topic for half an hour, asking the same questions over and over again. He had wanted so badly to be angry, wanted so badly to be hurt and mean and rude. But he could see the glow in her face, see the love she clearly had developed for the unborn child. He could even see, if he looked closely, where the baby was growing and where it would continue to grow as the weeks and months wore on.
And in the end, he'd said the simple words that felt so good to say: It's okay. I understand.
Even thought he didn't. He hadn't then and he still didn't now. But he was finally ready to tell them both that it was okay, and that he understood.
Like it or not, they were in this together.
Harry knocked this time, his eyes widening when Hermione opened it, her shirt gaping around her middle. "You're huge!" he exclaimed.
She scowled. "Why, thank you. Come in, why don't you?" Grumbling under her breath, she shut the door. "I'm only four months in. How big do you want me to be?"
"I don't know anything about this stuff. I just know that you're getting fat."
Tight-lipped, Hermione pointed beyond the foyer to the living room, where Harry could see the back of a familiar, shiny, blonde head. "He's in there."
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
Draco was sprawled out on Hermione's couch, feeling strangely serene and almost half-asleep when he heard a terribly gruff voice that sounded far too much like Harry's. He tried not to react, even when every part of him wanted to bolt and run and avoid the conflict that he knew was sure to quickly ensue once Harry realized who Hermione's houseguest was.
But he didn't. He couldn't. Because he heard Hermione betray him with a grumbly, "He's in there," and he felt Harry's eyes on the back of his head.
Caught like a rat in a trap, he thought miserably.
Harry walked halfway into the living room and stopped short, as though he'd walked into an unexpected wall. They stared at each other for several long, heavy seconds before Hermione coughed nervously. "Harry, don't you have anything to say to Draco?" she prompted hopefully and awkwardly.
"'Lo, Malfoy," Harry grunted, nodding his head just the slightest.
Draco returned the gesture. "Harry."
"So, I guess it's . . . four months down, huh?" Harry started again.
Keeping Harry's gaze, daring him to look him in the eye, Draco replied, "Yep."
"Been good so far?"
"Mostly."
"Morning sickness?"
"Nope. I'm eating fine."
Harry gave an exaggerated, exasperated sigh. "I meant her!"
"So ask her. I wouldn't know. I'm not around her 24/7."
Hermione gave a strange little giggle. "Feels like it sometimes."
Draco fell into silence, allowing his pent-up frustration and anger to build further, ready to explode in the angriest rage he'd ever experienced in his life when Harry said what he'd been waiting to hear for long, dragging months.
"I'm sorry, Draco."
Staring at Harry in disbelief, Draco's anger erupted into a fit of laughter so violent he struggled for breath. "Y-you're s-sorry? You're s-s-sorry?" His ribs were pained in the sharp, stinging way of unexpected exertion. "Sorry! That's amazing! All it took you was almost three months of no sex before you finally saw the light, huh? I'm so effing proud of you!"
"Draco!" Hermione admonished sharply. Harry's awkwardness had crumpled into the crestfallen appearance of a beaten dog. "You're hurting his feelings!"
Draco laughed ever harder, holding his sides while tears streamed down his cheeks. "Oh, God! I don't know how it could possibly be more ridiculous!"
He collected himself as well as he could and said, "So, in a freak accident I impregnate a woman I've always had a moderate to severe level of contempt for, which causes the immediate demise of my relationship. Then I wind up clinging to her because I was afraid to be lonely and somehow wanted to show my support for the child, while on my off days my ex is doing the same thing. And now, months later, he's suddenly 'sorry' for hurting my feelings! Could it get worse? Harry, are you pregnant, too?"
"Of course not. I'm not ready to have a baby." The words flew out of Harry's mouth. He grimaced and groaned, like he was trying desperately to rewind the reels and take it back. "No offense, Hermione," he offered.
"None taken," she replied airily.
"You've got a lot of reasons to be mad at me," Harry said, caution in his voice. He took a step forward, slowly encroaching the couch where Draco was practically flailing in hysterics. "But I want you to know that when I say I'm sorry, I mean it."
"Of course you do, Harry," Draco said, attempting to be reassuring. "But you see, it's not that simple. It's not a matter of you saying the magic words and, poof! Happily ever after! No. You can't take back what you did no matter how sorry you are, and neither can I."
"So what the hell can I even do to prove to you that I mean it?" Harry demanded, his voice and temper rising.
"I know you mean it, Potter! That's what I just said! It's just not that easy."
Harry sighed. "Can you ever forgive me?"
Draco grumbled.
"Can you?" Hermione pitched in hopefully, her eyes bright and happy for inexplicable reasons.
Looking from one hopeful pair of puppy-dog eyes to the other, Draco sighed. "Yeah, yeah. I guess. I'll try. No promises, though."
In one fell swoop Harry was sitting on the edge of the couch. He put his hand casually near Draco and gave him a hopeful look.
"I'm not going to hold your hand, Harry."
Harry nodded. "I understand."
Draco heaved a heavy sigh and felt himself sinking into the couch, feeling warm and content and almost at peace. It was a few seconds before he realized that it was Harry's side he was getting cozy with and not the couch.
Harry took his hand and grinned a little. "Together?"
"Together."
Chapter Nine
Chapter Seven
Rating: R (or M for mature)
Genre: Humor, romance, a hint of drama
Pairing(s): Draco/Harry, Draco/Hermione (implied), Ginny/Luna (implied)
Warning: While mostly canon-compliant, this fic boldly and blatantly ignores that the epilogue ever happened.
Summary: "I think, first of all, we shouldn't tell anyone. And secondly, we shouldn't talk about it. Most importantly, it's probably just a good idea if we pretend it never happened."
Something happened between Draco and Hermione, something that never should have even been considered . . .
Reviews accepted and appreciated. Feedback is love!
Harry's palms were sweating. He wiped them on his pants, above the darkened damp fabric where he'd been wiping them before they'd become soaked entirely.
They didn't know he was coming. Or maybe they did. Maybe they were sitting in wait and giggling like school girls about the romantic notion of Harry coming to whisk away his lover in a passionate reunion. Despite his nerves and the frantic rolicking of his stomach, the image made him smile.
His feet made a heavy thump as they hit the stairs. Up, up, up, he went, thinking out his opening lines with every fall of his shoe. "I'm sorry I was an ass," he'd say. "I'm sorry I didn't love you enough to forgive you."
He remembered a similar anxious trip up these stairs, and the anger he'd felt that overwhelmed that sinking, falling feeling that his life was crumbling apart.
Why? he'd asked, furious and hurt and sad, What made you want to sleep with him?
It wasn't that I wanted to, Hermione had replied. It just happened, Harry. We didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't want this to happen.
They circled the same topic for half an hour, asking the same questions over and over again. He had wanted so badly to be angry, wanted so badly to be hurt and mean and rude. But he could see the glow in her face, see the love she clearly had developed for the unborn child. He could even see, if he looked closely, where the baby was growing and where it would continue to grow as the weeks and months wore on.
And in the end, he'd said the simple words that felt so good to say: It's okay. I understand.
Even thought he didn't. He hadn't then and he still didn't now. But he was finally ready to tell them both that it was okay, and that he understood.
Like it or not, they were in this together.
Harry knocked this time, his eyes widening when Hermione opened it, her shirt gaping around her middle. "You're huge!" he exclaimed.
She scowled. "Why, thank you. Come in, why don't you?" Grumbling under her breath, she shut the door. "I'm only four months in. How big do you want me to be?"
"I don't know anything about this stuff. I just know that you're getting fat."
Tight-lipped, Hermione pointed beyond the foyer to the living room, where Harry could see the back of a familiar, shiny, blonde head. "He's in there."
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
Draco was sprawled out on Hermione's couch, feeling strangely serene and almost half-asleep when he heard a terribly gruff voice that sounded far too much like Harry's. He tried not to react, even when every part of him wanted to bolt and run and avoid the conflict that he knew was sure to quickly ensue once Harry realized who Hermione's houseguest was.
But he didn't. He couldn't. Because he heard Hermione betray him with a grumbly, "He's in there," and he felt Harry's eyes on the back of his head.
Caught like a rat in a trap, he thought miserably.
Harry walked halfway into the living room and stopped short, as though he'd walked into an unexpected wall. They stared at each other for several long, heavy seconds before Hermione coughed nervously. "Harry, don't you have anything to say to Draco?" she prompted hopefully and awkwardly.
"'Lo, Malfoy," Harry grunted, nodding his head just the slightest.
Draco returned the gesture. "Harry."
"So, I guess it's . . . four months down, huh?" Harry started again.
Keeping Harry's gaze, daring him to look him in the eye, Draco replied, "Yep."
"Been good so far?"
"Mostly."
"Morning sickness?"
"Nope. I'm eating fine."
Harry gave an exaggerated, exasperated sigh. "I meant her!"
"So ask her. I wouldn't know. I'm not around her 24/7."
Hermione gave a strange little giggle. "Feels like it sometimes."
Draco fell into silence, allowing his pent-up frustration and anger to build further, ready to explode in the angriest rage he'd ever experienced in his life when Harry said what he'd been waiting to hear for long, dragging months.
"I'm sorry, Draco."
Staring at Harry in disbelief, Draco's anger erupted into a fit of laughter so violent he struggled for breath. "Y-you're s-sorry? You're s-s-sorry?" His ribs were pained in the sharp, stinging way of unexpected exertion. "Sorry! That's amazing! All it took you was almost three months of no sex before you finally saw the light, huh? I'm so effing proud of you!"
"Draco!" Hermione admonished sharply. Harry's awkwardness had crumpled into the crestfallen appearance of a beaten dog. "You're hurting his feelings!"
Draco laughed ever harder, holding his sides while tears streamed down his cheeks. "Oh, God! I don't know how it could possibly be more ridiculous!"
He collected himself as well as he could and said, "So, in a freak accident I impregnate a woman I've always had a moderate to severe level of contempt for, which causes the immediate demise of my relationship. Then I wind up clinging to her because I was afraid to be lonely and somehow wanted to show my support for the child, while on my off days my ex is doing the same thing. And now, months later, he's suddenly 'sorry' for hurting my feelings! Could it get worse? Harry, are you pregnant, too?"
"Of course not. I'm not ready to have a baby." The words flew out of Harry's mouth. He grimaced and groaned, like he was trying desperately to rewind the reels and take it back. "No offense, Hermione," he offered.
"None taken," she replied airily.
"You've got a lot of reasons to be mad at me," Harry said, caution in his voice. He took a step forward, slowly encroaching the couch where Draco was practically flailing in hysterics. "But I want you to know that when I say I'm sorry, I mean it."
"Of course you do, Harry," Draco said, attempting to be reassuring. "But you see, it's not that simple. It's not a matter of you saying the magic words and, poof! Happily ever after! No. You can't take back what you did no matter how sorry you are, and neither can I."
"So what the hell can I even do to prove to you that I mean it?" Harry demanded, his voice and temper rising.
"I know you mean it, Potter! That's what I just said! It's just not that easy."
Harry sighed. "Can you ever forgive me?"
Draco grumbled.
"Can you?" Hermione pitched in hopefully, her eyes bright and happy for inexplicable reasons.
Looking from one hopeful pair of puppy-dog eyes to the other, Draco sighed. "Yeah, yeah. I guess. I'll try. No promises, though."
In one fell swoop Harry was sitting on the edge of the couch. He put his hand casually near Draco and gave him a hopeful look.
"I'm not going to hold your hand, Harry."
Harry nodded. "I understand."
Draco heaved a heavy sigh and felt himself sinking into the couch, feeling warm and content and almost at peace. It was a few seconds before he realized that it was Harry's side he was getting cozy with and not the couch.
Harry took his hand and grinned a little. "Together?"
"Together."
Chapter Nine
Chapter Seven