The Mudblood and the Dragon

Chapter Eight

The next morning, Hermione woke in Draco's arms. At first, she was a little startled, but she remembered last night and calmed herself. Hermione slowly moved Draco's arm off of her hip, where he had gently placed it that night, when he held her in his arms.

Hermione grabbed her shampoo and conditioner so she could take a shower. She searched through her trunk for a comfortable shirt, but all of her shirts were "dress to impress" types of shirts.

Hermione snuck toward Draco's trunk and opened it. Inside, it was as though she had entered a closet. The trunk contained more clothes than a department store. They were all shrunken down to an abnormally small size, to fit in the trunk.

Hermione pulled out a t-shirt, that had the Quidditch team name, Falmouth Falcons printed on it, that looked quite cozy. She pulled her wand out of her pocket and tapped the shirt and whispered, "Engorgio!"

The shirt grew to its normal size. Hermione carried it, along with her toiletries and a pair of jeans, into the bathroom.

*~*~*~*~*

Hermione walked out of the bathroom, her hair wrapped up in a towel on top of her head, and Draco greeted her, "Good Morning!"

"Hello," Hermione answered.

"Is that my shirt?" Draco asked, pointing toward her.

Hermione smiled. "Yes."

"Oh," Draco said confusedly.

"I don't have any comfy shirts, so I stole yours. The Falmouth Falcons? Aren't they the ones who just try to beat the other teams' players' skulls in?" Hermione asked him.

"Yea, that's the one," he said. "So, what's on the agenda for today?"

"Nothing. We have no classes," Hermione reminded him.

"How convenient."

Hermione smiled. This is not the same Draco that called me a Mudblood. He's different. Can he be trusted? Can I tell him my secret?

Hermione rubbed her eyes. She didn't know what to do.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked, noticing her rubbing her eyes.

"Draco," Hermione said. "There's something I really need to tell you."

"Hermione, you already told me you took my owl," he joked.

"Draco, this is serious," Hermione said, tears welling in her eyes.

Draco's face went straight. He moved towards her and put his arm around her shoulder. "What is it? I mean, are you okay?"

"No, Draco, I'm not okay," said Hermione as tears poured down her face.

Draco pulled her into his arms. Hermione cried into his shirt, breathing in the sweet smell of his cologne. Hermione tried to explain, but she knew Draco couldn't tell what she was saying through all of the tears.

Hermione attempted to stop her tears, but they kept coming. Draco didn't seem to mind. He continued rubbing her back, trying to soothe her.

"It's okay," Draco whispered in her ear. "Just tell me when you're ready, and I'll listen. No interruptions."

Hermione nodded her head in his shirt.

She pulled herself away from him and took a deep breath. She paused for a moment, feeling that she was going to cry again, but she blinked the tears back.

"I have to explain the whole thing, so it's a bit of a long story."

Draco nodded

"Okay," Hermione started. "Well, you know that I went out with Harry this summer. You see, I had him over for the summer because he didn't want to stay with his aunt and uncle."

Hermione stopped, expecting Draco to make a rude remark about their relationship, but he stayed silent.

"So, the night of my parents' anniversary, Harry and I convinced them to go out to dinner, or rather, we paid them to go out."

Draco started to chuckle, but stopped, remembering his promise.

"So, they went out, and we went down to the basement, where we had a pull-out sofa that Harry slept on while he was staying with us," Hermione told him. Her hand started shaking, and Draco grabbed it. His warm hands seemed to urge her on.

"We- we-" Hermione faltered. Tears started rolling down her cheeks again.

"We had sex, and now I'm pregnant!" Hermione blurted out.

Draco's eyes widened, taken aback by this announcement.

Hermione dashed away from his bed, where they were seated, and into the bathroom. She quickly fumbled with the lock and sat on the tile floor, leaning against the wall.

Draco knocked on the door, but Hermione didn't answer. He mumbled, "Alohomora," and the door gently slid open.

Draco kneeled down next to her. "Does Potter know?"

Hermione hadn't thought of that. She slowly shook her head. Harry was obviously the father, why hadn't she told him? Why had she told Draco, who had once been her worst enemy, before telling her best friend and father of the baby?

Draco sighed. "You have to tell him."

"DON'T YOU THINK I REALIZE THAT?" Hermione yelled at him. "HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE FIRST ONE I TOLD. INSTEAD, I'M SITTING HERE TELLING YOU WHOM I HAVE ONLY JUST STARTED TRUSTING!"

Draco backed away, realizing he had pushed her too far. "When you're ready to talk, I'll be in the other room," he told her before he left the bathroom.

Hermione sat alone on the tile floor of the small, cold bathroom, waiting for the moment that her life was normal again, but she knew that moment would never come. She had made a mistake. However, Hermione found that telling Draco had made the mistake a bit better.