Future Parents Program

Chapter Three: Heaven and Hell

Narcissa Malfoy was in a bit of a huff. Her son was a wily one, she'd give him that. The woman flopped back on her son's bed in a very un-Malfoy-like heap and contemplated her handiwork currently giggling on the ceiling. She looked at the note in her hand for the twentieth time.

Dear Mother,

I decided to return to Hogwarts early so that I can get a head start on all of the work I'll have to do for the Old Dragon this year. Please have the house elves deliver my luggage by the end of the day.

Sincerely,

Cordially,

Love Always,

D

As miffed as she was at having her plans thwarted, Narcissa was still thrilled by the "Love Always". There had been a time when Draco wouldn't have dreamed about expressing any sort of tender emotion toward his mother. Her son was still struggling with the changes in his life, but at least he was trying. Her bastard husband hadn't destroyed everything. Not to say that Draco was entirely reformed. She smirked at the post script.

And for the love of the Gods, woman, don't include nappies with my boxers!

Narcissa had realized back at the random baby bottle stage of her campaign that Draco was not going to simply lie down and admit defeat. She had increased her efforts in proportion with his resistance. So far the only results she'd garnered from her erstwhile child was a sprained ankle and a new appreciation for closeted janitorial supplies. Narcissa tapped a perfectly manicured finger against her chin. Now he'd gone so far as to remove himself from the battle entirely.

Oh, but the boy had seriously underestimated the depth of Narcissa's devotion to her new cause.

It occurred to her that she was being a wee bit selfish. Then again, who cared? It wasn't like she would be the ONLY one benefiting from the formation of a new family. Draco needed to know that not all fathers were like his own. She hated herself for bringing her child into a....gods, situation just didn't describe it justly....like that. Narcissa would forever regret her weakness, because in the end it had hurt the one she loved the most.

She had to be strong now. She had to delve deep inside to reconnect with the steel willed young woman she had once been and use every bit of tenacity, cunning, and manipulative tendencies she possessed to achieve her goal.

A family for Draco. A family for Narcissa.

A chance to do things right.

Except the little twerp she called her son wasn't cooperating. How was she supposed to wage her war, er, campaign, if the snot was away at school....

Wait a minute. School.

Slowly, a smile that could only be described as deliciously evil spread across the still-beautiful woman's face. Oh, but this was too good, she thought to herself. This was bringing devious to new heights, even for her.

It was brilliant!

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That night....

Somewhere in Hogwarts Headmaster Dumbledore held a secret meeting with the school's professors. Ok, so it wasn't that secret, but an old man had to get his fun where he could. He was actually having quite a bit of fun at the moment. He rather enjoyed the stunned expressions some of the most unflappable people in the wizarding world were casting in his direction.

Snape was the first to break the silence. "Headmaster, forgive me, but are you serious?"

Dumbledore put the tips of his aged fingers together and formed a pyramid, smiling serenely at the head of Slytherin house. That was all the answer anyone needed. The Potions master narrowed his eyes at him. "What house were you assigned to when you were a student?" he asked suspiciously.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Really, Severus. It's not as devious as all that."

Minerva finally snapped out of her stunned state. "Yes, it is. Where do you come up with these things, Albus?" She watched as Dumbledore fed a tidbit to Faux, petting the phoenix with unconcealed affection. "Our young Mr. Malfoy is actually the source of this particular endeavor, my dear Minerva," he replied easily.

Snape's eyebrows shot up. "Malfoy? THE Draco Malfoy?"

"Oh, yes. Mr. Malfoy showed up in my office quite unexpectedly this afternoon. He was rather distraught regarding his lack of an heir." So he left out a few details, Dumbledore thought. What was truth but a convenient arrangement of facts, anyway?

The Transfiguration professor was still a little uneasy. "An experiment of this magnitude will require an unheard of amount of cooperation between professors and students alike."

"I have every faith in the abilities of the staff and the students, Minerva. We have two weeks to coordinate the details." Dumbledore actually smirked. "I must say, I'm looking forward to it."

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After the meeting was adjourned and Dumbledore was once again alone in his office, he casually walked over to the fireplace (it had been extraordinarily busy that day) and proceeded to cast the needed charm to contact his accomplice.

Narcissa must have been glued to the grate because her face appeared seconds later in the flames. "Well?" she asked excitedly. "How did it go?"

Dumbledore smiled at his former student. "Quite well, I would say. With the information you have provided concerning the Muggle methods employed in public schools, there shouldn't be any problem implementing the experiment itself. It's the underhanded aspects that will require the most attention in the next fortnight."

Narcissa could not contain the evil chuckle that spilled out. "I can't wait to see the look on Draco's face when he hears about this. I'll provide all the necessary help as far as the extra measures are concerned. I was a bit of a prankster in my day."

"I remember," Dumbledore said wryly.

"Draco isn't going to know what hit him." Narcissa crossed her legs in a childlike fashion and propped her chin on her fist. "Now tell me more about this Hermione Granger."

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

Two weeks later on the Hogwarts Express.....

Hermione sat in the Head compartment of the train and reflected.

The speeches concerning her duties and that of the Head Boy, who was no where to be found, were already done, leaving her alone for the rest of the journey. Ron and Harry were off frolicking somewhere on the train, and as much as she loved those two, she was feeling a bit....disoriented....and wanted to sort her feelings out by herself.

Actually, if she was honest, she knew that 'frolicking' was a bit much. The three of them had been changed by the war that wasn't officially a war in the Ministry's eyes. Hermione snorted. "Conflict" indeed. Conflicts were little fights between second graders. Conflicts didn't give you nightmares. Conflicts didn't make you watch people die. Conflicts didn't wield a whip and leave you scarred for life.

The fall of Voldemort had been met by the majority of the wizarding world with joy. Hermione wished she had been capable of sharing in it, but she just...couldn't. A void sat where happiness should have been. Hermione felt like she would never be happy again. Instead she was angry because of what she had to endure.

She was sad because she couldn't look at the world the same way she had when she first met her two best friends.

She was frightened because it didn't look like those feelings would ever change.

Hermione shifted position so that her back didn't fully touch the back of the seat, ignoring the lingering pain. What did one do when one's innocence was stripped away? The rose tinted glasses were gone, leaving the world in shades of gray that threatened to drown Hermione if she thought about it too long. She knew she wasn't the only one who felt like that, but the others were reacting to it differently. Harry and Ron had a new maturity about them now. Harry seemed a bit more relaxed without the threat of Voldemort hanging over his head. He seemed to use the gray to highlight what was pure and good and brilliantly colorful. He took every moment he could to appreciate the wonderful things in life, and understand how fleeting some beauty could be.

Ron...he wasn't so afraid anymore. He went after what he wanted now. He showed others how he felt or said what he thought instead of ducking his head and defending himself with a shamed face. He still laughed, but now it was at himself and not at others.

Hermione leaned her head against the cool glass of the window. She was intelligent enough to recognize the signs of depression in herself. She just didn't know what to do about it than go about life as though nothing had changed. She simply had to ignore the nagging voice in her heart that told her nothing would ever be the same again.

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

The tension in the room was palpable. Every eye was focused on Draco, waiting for his next move. Everything, and he did mean everything, was riding on his decision. Sweat beaded on his temple. He had to choose wisely, or all was lost. He had only one chance to get it right. Keep cool, Malfoy. Don't let the pressure get to you. He had to consciously restrain himself from tapping his fingers in a blatant show of uncertainty.

He took a deep breath. It was now or never.

"Hit me."

Hagrid flipped the next card over. "Malfoy busts with twenty-two."

Malfoy stared in open mouthed astonishment as Dumbledore raked his amazing pile of Muggle candy that they had been using for markers into his already impressive collection. "Better luck next time, Malfoy," he commiserated.

"Stupid nines," Malfoy muttered. He added Black Jack to his list of Games that Needed to Be Mastered in Order to Salvage Pride. He smirked. He could always use it to fleece a few first years out of their sweets. It bore thinking over. Pity about this game though. He'd become really fond of those Jolly Ranchers, although why anyone would name a candy after happy men who herded cattle was beyond him.

Speaking of jolly....Draco eyed the group of professors suspiciously. They'd been a little too happy lately. They kept casting him these odd looks that had him on guard for booby traps. There hadn't been any other than Hagrid's occasional escapees finding their way into his very expensive wardrobe. Malfoy was still uneasy though. He was a true Slytherin, and his instincts were telling him that something not entirely pleasant was going to happen.

Then again, he could simply be displacing his anxieties over Granger's inevitable arrival.

He'd learned that little tidbit of information over the two weeks he'd been by himself at school. Bored out of his mind, he'd gone in search of entertainment. According to the Super-Condensed Psychological Theories and You book he'd picked up on a whim in the school library, Draco focused on Granger in order to draw attention from his own sense of failure. He was angry at her because he was angry with himself or some such thing. Basically, she was his scapegoat.

Although she didn't look anything like a goat to him. A swan maybe. A nymph, or perhaps a--

Blast it to Hell and back!

The book had had some things to say about those random bits of insanity as well. According to it, Draco was secretly attracted to Granger and had repressed it for so long that it had built up to the point where it sort of leaked out and manifested itself as dreams and such.

It was about then that Draco had decided the damn book was rubbish and chucked the thing. Repressed attraction, his bum.

The churning feeling that bubbled in his chest as he returned to his room to change into his robes for the opening ceremony was just indigestion. He conveniently ignored that fact that he hadn't eaten anything since before noon and that the feeling was only now grabbing hold of him. He blamed his pounding heart as he walked toward the Great Hall on a lack of exercise, never mind that his body was a fit as could be thanks to Quidditch.

He caught himself primping in front of a random mirror. Hair carefully tousled, check. Clean face, check. Straight tie, check. He turned to the side. His robes showed off the physique he had earlier ignored to the fullest effect. His shirt was just tight enough to emphasis his broad shoulders without being to obvious. He arranged it so that it lay straighter on his defined abdomen. His slacks, though hidden by the robes except for certain moments, showed off his tight bum, if he did say so himself.

Pull yourself together, you ponce!

Scowling, he silently told his reflection that he was making sure he looked his best in order to impress the Slytherin girls. Even his reflection didn't want to believe him.

He took a deep breath. Show time.

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

He entered the Great Hall with all the dramatic flair he had in him. He was uber aware of all the appreciative looks he was receiving even as he outwardly ignored them on the way to his self-proclaimed throne as the Prince of Slytherin. He surveyed his surroundings with icy superiority, briefly nodding to Pansy and the others even as his eyes strayed to the Gryffindor table.

His eyes narrowed. There they were, the Golden Trio, up close and personal. Weasel and Potter were reacquainting themselves with the other boys. Potter briefly caught his eye and gave the minutest of nods in acknowledgment. Malfoy returned the gesture with one of his own. Hell, he could be civilized when he wanted to.

Then his attention caught on her. He frowned. What the hell was wrong with the girl? She looked normal, but....was it him, or did she seem a bit......

Diminished?

Draco knew that girl as well as her two buffoons did. Know thy enemy and all that. Regardless of the circumstances, he knew that Hermione Granger was in possession of one of the most tangible auras in school. She glowed with it, damn her. It was a part of her, as if her body wasn't big enough to keep all of energy inside.

It wasn't there anymore. Or at least not like it had been. A pale shadow of itself.

Malfoy would have killed to know why. Know thy enemy and all that.

He found himself sneaking more looks at her than normal all through the sorting ceremony. She had grown into her looks. Her uncontrollable hair had received a proper cut and style, framing her face attractively. She had gone from scrawny to well-proportioned in all the right spots. Her legs--

Well, he was going to stop that thought right in its tracks.

Suddenly Malfoy became aware of what the Headmaster was saying. He'd passed by the usual Dying a Horrible Death speech and had come to a new topic. "This year Hogwarts has made some changes to the normal curriculum. It has come to our attention that many of our students are not as well rounded as we would like them to be. In addition to preparing you for the professional aspect of your futures, we have decided to attempt include the personal aspect of life as well."

This was it, Malfoy thought dazedly. This was what the Old Fool had been so happy about. He stared in morbid fascination as the Dragon continued, wise eyes pining him where he sat. "Due to concerns expressed by certain individuals, Hogwarts has investigated Muggle methods of teaching and have discovered startling differences. Upon review, it was decided that we have severely neglected considering the diverse backgrounds of our students in relation to education. Therefore, we hereby introduce to you the Future Parents Program."

Draco couldn't get his scattered thoughts to shape up and get back in order.

"Several students of each house and gender will be selected to participate in and report on the progress of this experimental course. The purpose is to teach the students about what everyday life will be like after school. We chose only one aspect as a focus, in this case....children.....to give the evaluation more definition.

"In short," Dumbledore said. "Someone's about to become a parent."

Three guesses who. Dumbledore had just succeeded in supplanting Granger on Malfoy's People I Am Going to Beat If It's the Last Thing I Ever Do list. Except "beat" took on a whole new meaning in this instance.

Wait. Couple. That meant--

"Would the following students please come forward?" Minerva, the Traitorous Transfiguration professor as she would forever after be known to Malfoy, said briskly while she flipped open a roll of parchment. "Ronald Weasley."

The redhead stood. The professor didn't wait for him before calling out the rest of the boys names. "Neville Longbottom. Alfred Blankenship."

"Draco Malfoy."

All eyes snapped to Malfoy. He barely suppressed a growl, settling on the fiercest scowl he could conjure up as he stood. Anger reverberated in every step as he stalked to the podium. "The following girls will be paired with the boys in the order they have been called. Pansy Parkinson."

The poor girl couldn't hide her shock. WEASLEY? She mouthed even as she was pushed up and prodded toward the podium. "Millicent Bulstrode."

Neville visibly blanched.

"Cho Chang." Blankenship looked positively ecstatic. All that left was Malfoy. He closed his eyes, a war raging inside of him even as he waited for the next name to be called. The girl that would be paired with him. Oh, gods. He'd thought sharing a common room would be hell. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want her to be that close all of the time.

He didn't want it to be anybody else but her.

"Hermione Granger."