A/N: *bursts into the room out of breath and grinning*

*happy dances over with the chapter*

*waggles eyebrows suggestively*

*scampers from the room with an excitable squeak*

xx-Kitten.

Give Unto Me

By Kittenshift17

Chapter 16: Sweet Sexathalon

Hermione groaned a week later when she rolled off Malfoy, panting heavily, her body aching in the way she'd never imagined it could. Three days into her window of ovulation, she suspected she'd had more sex than was considered strictly humane.

"Am I dead?" Malfoy gasped, exhausted, looking like he didn't think he could even move his legs. Hermione didn't blame him. She wasn't so sure she could move, herself. They'd been at it like hyperactive rabbits, and in all honestly, she was beginning to chafe.

"I think I need an Epsom salt soak," she confessed quietly in return, her voice husky from their exertions and her body trembling.

"Me too," he groaned.

"We could order one at that spa we passed yesterday," Hermione suggested.

"Yesterday?" Malfoy asked. "I don't even know what we did yesterday. Did we leave the hotel?"

"Mmm," Hermione sighed, stretching out like a starfish on the double-king mattress Malfoy had insisted on forking out for at this motel when they'd learned it was an option. She hadn't known why because since the first night in Germany, and since they'd begun shagging, he'd spent every night spooned snugly around her and immoveable in the cuddling while he slept. He hadn't been kidding that day at the park when he'd told her he was a cuddler.

Now, however, she understood the additional money he'd paid for the size of the bed. It had nothing to do with sleeping and everything to do with sex. She'd reached a point in shagging him where she didn't even want to brush his arm when she was done. She could scarcely move, aching in places she hadn't even known she possessed. This much sex couldn't be healthy. Was this hoe people contracted UTIs, she wondered idly, thinking that she should get up and pee, just to be safe. But that would mean walking, and there was no way she was going to be able to do that after riding him like he was a bucking bull, her knees aching and her nethers tingling like mad.

"You sure?" Malfoy frowned. "I don't think we left the bed yesterday. I don't even know where we are…."

"Italy," she told him. "Florence, to be exact. There was a deluxe spa for magic folk down the street when we went for dinner."

"Dinner," he muttered, smacking his lips and looking like he didn't remember eating dinner.

"You had Ossobuco a la Milanese," she reminded him. "And we stopped for gelato on the way back here after attending the Night Markets. You bought me this ice cream charm."

She lifted her arm where the charm bracelet he'd bought her was stuffed full of charms, some links of the chain bearing two or three charms apiece and beginning to overflow the bracelet. Hermione twisted it around to show him the ice cream charm he'd bought.

"Right," he muttered, reaching up for her wrist and dragging it down closer to eye level so he could examine the charms he'd been collecting for her everywhere they went. "Might need to get you a second chain."

Hermione laughed breathlessly.

"I think so," she agreed. "This one is almost out of space."

"Proof we're having a good time," he smirked at her across the pillows.

"Don't look at me like that, Malfoy," Hermione warned him, seeing the lustful glint in his eyes as though they hadn't just finished another round of wild sex that was sure to have left her walking bow-legged just as soon as she could find her feet.

"We have a contract to uphold," he reminded her, toying with the charm bracelet for a moment longer before pulling her hand to his mouth and pressing soft kisses to the back of it.

"Chafe," she warned, tugging her hand away before he could lure her into shagging him again. "I have chafe because of that look, you great bloody git."

"I could kiss it better," he smirked, rolling in her direction.

"Don't even think about it," Hermione warned, rolling away quickly, knowing just what would happen if he got his hands on her again.

She didn't know if it was just that they were both young and at the height of the sexual prime, or if it was the overwhelmingly romantic nature of taking a world trip together, or it was just that it was great sex, but they hadn't been able to keep their hands off each other. So half the charms dangling on her bracelet would carry the memory of the many sights they had seen, but also the recollection that he'd shagged her in a good three-quarters of them. And subsequently gotten them chased out of and banned from a few spots when they inevitably got caught with their trousers down. Literally.

He'd insisted, from that first day onward, upon buying her skirts and sundresses to better make use of the easy access to her nunny, and Hermione had let him because, sweet Circe, the man could shag like nobody's business.

"Where are you going?" he taunted, reaching for her, and Hermione smacked his hands away, laughing as she rolled right off the edge of the bed and onto wobbly legs to evade him.

"I'm getting a massage," she declared.

"Don't have to leave the room for that, Granger," he offered, waggling his eyebrows.

"From a professional," she clarified. "And some kind of healing soak to keep my nethers intact, lest they fall off from all of this abuse."

Malfoy snorted.

"Abuse?" he scoffed. "Darling, I think you mean worship."

Hermione laughed, dashing into the bathroom when he came after her like he meant to have her again.

"Come on, Granger," he laughed when she closed the bathroom door in his face. "One more round."

"You said that four rounds ago," she called, making use of the facilities quickly and digging through her toiletry bag for something to ease the rawness of her skin after his frequent homage.

"I lied four rounds ago," he called back, and Hermione laughed, shaking her head.

"If we have sex one more time, I might die," she argued, applying creams to better deal with her situation after a bit of a clean-off.

"At least it would be a noble death," Malfoy smirked, leaning in the doorway and blocking her exit when she opened the door, intent on finding a pair of clean knickers and something to wear to the spa.

"Noble?" Hermione scoffed. "I think you mean pleasurable."

"Are the two mutually exclusive?" he challenged.

"In this case, I think they might be," Hermione said. "There's not much noble about having my ankles up around my ears while you got to town."

He smirked wickedly, licking his lips and eyeing her naked body like he wanted to devour her.

"Noooo," she warned him when he moved to reach for her again. "We're going to the spa, or I'll never survive another night with you."

He caught her as she tried to slip past him, pulling her back against his chest and nuzzling into her neck from behind, his arms curling around her waist and holding her snugly.

"One more round," he bargained, trailing his lips up the side of her neck. He nibbled the particular spot that always made her weak in the knees.

"I can't," she whined. "I'll die."

"Promise you won't," he murmured huskily, nibbling her earlobe.

"After the spa," she bargained. "I really do have chafe."

Draco groaned, leaning into her a little more, his arms tightening in protest.

"Yeah," he sighed. "So do I."

Hermione laughed.

"It's, like, two hours, Malfoy," she reminded him.

"Too long," he whined, and Hermione shook her head, leaning back against him for a long moment and wondering how long this strange and intense attraction between them might last.

She'd never craved anyone's touch the way she craved Malfoy's. She'd never yearned for it as she yearned for her next breath, never woken in the night with her body positively thrumming to have him one more time.

"You can wait," she promised.

"Can you?" he teased, nipping her earlobe again.

"Maybe," Hermione murmured.

"Probably not," they said together before dissolving into laughter. Having learned since they'd started shagging that her best intentions to keep her hands to herself often resulted in her caving and pulling him into a dark corner on whatever tour or adventure they were experiencing to ravish him one more time.

Just one more time.

Invariably, one more time.

"Fine," he sighed dramatically, releasing her. "But I'm paying someone to massage my arse. The muscles are killing me."

Hermione laughed as he stepped away and quickly ducked into the bathroom to clean up after their most recent round. She hurried to her suitcase, determined to get dressed and get out the door before he could go about trying to lure her back to bed again, knowing she didn't have the strength to resist him for long. Hermione wrinkled her nose at the mess on her thighs as she stepped into a pair of clean knickers. Trying for a baby was messy work.

Vanishing the mess, she hurried into her knickers and a flowy sundress that would help hide her shape to better keep Malfoy's hands off her for the short walk to the spa. She was just thinking to herself as she debated the merits of a light jacket and whether the other paired breeding couples would be having this kind of marathon-like sex when Malfoy exited the bathroom and groaned quietly.

Looking over, she found his grey eyes tracing over her hungrily like he wanted to devour her all over again.

"No," she warned him, holding a hand out with her index fingers raised. "Don't even think about it! I'm leaving."

She scuttled away, giggling when he lunged after her, ready to lure her back into his arms and into his bed.

"One more round," he bargained as Hermione flung open the hotel door and dashed into the hall.

"Get dressed, you git," Hermione laughed at him. "I'll meet you downstairs."

"You don't play fair," he called after her before the door swung closed so he could get dressed without frightening the other hotel guests.

Hermione was laughing and shaking her head all the way down in the elevator and while she stood in the lobby perusing the pamphlet stand of tourist attractions they'd yet to enjoy. She collected a handful of them, tucking them into her purse for closer inspection later, desperate to get to the spa and make use of whatever healing remedies they might have for one oversexed nunny. She was still collecting them, reading about a historical coven burial ground from the 1500s when strong arms encircled her from behind, and the familiar bergamot and apple scent of Malfoy's cologne curled into her nostrils, tormenting her senses all over again.

"What've you found?" he asked quietly, nuzzling into the side of her neck and nibbling her skin gently, obviously not caring about the pamphlets in the slightest.

At the reception desk, Hermione would swear she heard one of the ladies on the job go, "awwwwww."

"Historical burial ground," she told him, showing him the pictures though she was sure he was more interested in tasting her skin than he was in the pamphlet.

"You want to go?" he offered.

"After the spa," Hermione nodded.

"And lunch," he inserted. "There's a flyer in the room for a new pasta restaurant that looked good."

"If we don't get out of Italy soon, I'm going to put on twenty pounds," she chided him, though the idea of a tasty pasta dish made her mouth water.

Malfoy smoothed his hands over her taut stomach under her dress. "Plus another… what? Ten?"

"Merlin, don't you dare wish that on me!" she laughed in horror. "Seven as a maximum."

"Is that all they weigh?" he asked curiously.

"Typically," Hermione nodded. "Often less. Sometimes more. Depends on the baby."

Another "aww" came from the desk, and Hermione shook her head at the over-romantic receptionists.

"Well, come on then," Malfoy whispered in her ear. "Let's get you soaked in healing potion so I can get on with planting one inside you and find out what ours will be."

Hermione's stomach flipped, and without thinking, she turned her head to kiss him dizzyingly, hating that his enthusiasm and his glorious love-making had tendrils of excitement coiling through her limbs rather than horror.

"You're trouble, Draco Malfoy," Hermione told him breathlessly when they broke apart several long moments later, both grinning like fools.

"You have no idea, love," he smirked, bouncing his eyebrows cockily and making her stomach flip all over again.

~O~

They never stopped moving. Traversing a different country every other day, they even returned to some of the ones from the first day that they'd crammed into such a short time frame and revisited them to ensure the experience was more well-rounded. So what was supposed to be a four-day getaway before the craziness of impending parenthood and a final year at Hogwarts turned into a four-week vacation, traveling around the world.

Hermione had lost count of how many countries they'd been to, and only her passport stamps seemed indicative of a quantifiable number. The charm bracelet Malfoy had bought at the beginning of the trip had been joined by a second bracelet, an anklet, and a necklace, all heavily laden with gleaming silver and gold charms.

The photo album Hermione had begun putting together on the first day had grown bigger and bigger, soon rivaling any ancient tome she might find in the dustiest parts of the Hogwarts library. What was more, no matter where they went, they couldn't keep their hands off each other. For days that blurred into weeks, they wandered the globe, and their hands wandered each other's bodies so often that she felt she knew Malfoy's body better than she knew her own.

Every line. Every dip. Every scar. Every freckle. Hermione could map his skin with her eyes closed if someone asked her. She had done so with her hands, and later, her tongue, so often that she could see his every characterizing dimple even when she closed her eyes and drifted into an exhausted and highly sated sleep at night.

"So," Malfoy drawled in the middle of an afternoon four weeks into their vacation, his hands smoothing up and down her back where her dress dipped suggestively, revealing the bare expanse of skin to his gaze and his greedy fingers.

"So?" Hermione asked, looking up at him from where she sprawled across his chest upon the picnic blanket, lying by a lake in the mid-august sunshine in Washington. The vineyard they were staying at stretched as far as the eye could see in the field above the lake, and Hermione had been sleepily beginning to drift off, relaxed there with Malfoy.

"Think you're pregnant yet?" he asked idly, his hands still tracing up and down the length of her back and lulling her towards a nap.

"Mmmm, probably," she sighed, laying her cheek back down upon his chest and closing her eyes, realizing he wasn't about the suggest they get up and get on with the next activity on the list of things to do in the area.

"Think we should talk about what happens next?" he wondered aloud.

"Did you have something in mind?" she asked, wondering what he might want to talk about.

"Got any idea what you want to name it?" he asked.

Hermione grinned.

"I think it's a bit early for that," she chuckled. "And anyway, I might not be pregnant yet. All the books and horror stories to frighten teenagers in abstinence and contraceptive use are inaccurate, for the most part. Falling pregnant is no easy feat for some women, you know?"

"Mmm, but I don't imagine those women have given it the kind of consistent and enthusiastic attempts we've been practicing," he chuckled.

"You'd be surprised," Hermione argued without opening her eyes. "Some poor ladies are desperate for a baby and will try anything to have one."

"Pretty sure we've tried everything, Granger," he joked. Then, he surprised her with a kiss to the top of her head, reminding her that in addition to being incredibly willing to shag her, he'd proven quite affectionate and doting once he got comfortable with her.

"Pervert," she teased.

"You love every minute of it, witch," he smirked, self-assured in the knowledge that she most certainly did. Hermione didn't bother arguing. She'd loved every second of what they'd been doing these past few weeks. Even if they'd been thrown out of Notre Dame for shagging in the confessional box when it was supposed to be closed to visitors.

"Did you bring it up because you have a name in mind, Malfoy?" she asked when he lulled into silence, his hands never ceasing their endless track up and down the length of her spine as though she was his favorite cat and he loved to hear her purr.

"Maybe," he said. "If it's a boy. There's a tradition on my mother's side to name boys after constellations."

Hermione smiled, supposing he had a point when she recalled that Narcissa had been a Black before she'd married.

"Was there a particular constellation you're especially fond of?" Hermione asked quietly, wondering what he might come out with and whether she would hate it.

"Maybe Orion?" he suggested. "Or Fornax."

"Want the kid to be taunted like you were, do you?" Hermione needled, grinning.

She earned a swat on the rump for her cheek.

"Did you have something better in mind?" he challenged.

"What if I wanted a normal name, like… I don't know… Oscar or Spencer?" she asked.

He snorted.

"Normal?" he taunted.

"More normal than Fornax, you weirdo," Hermione retorted, turning her head to bite his pec through the fabric of his shirt.

He laughed, swatting her bum again for good measure.

"And anyway… it could be a girl, you know?"

"Historically speaking, that seems unlikely," he argued.

"I'm certain your ancestors rigged that," Hermione told him. "It's unnatural to have a long and uninterrupted line of sons and not daughters in a single bloodline."

"Perks of good breeding," he teased.

"Pfft," Hermione scoffed. "I think you mispronounced selective breeding."

"Does it count as selective breeding that the Ministry hand-picked this match?" he taunted.

Hermione laughed.

"Yes!" she said. "Yes, it does. This is practically the definition."

"Still think it'll be a boy," he told her.

"Well, I hope you're wrong, just to break the chain," she replied contrarily.

"Already breaking the chain having a kid with you, Granger," he reminded her quietly.

Hermione sighed, reminded of her blood status and his family's bigotry.

"Yeah," she muttered. "I know."

For a while after that, they remained silent, too exhausted from the travels and their exertions to do more than lay in the sun like a pair of sated felines, soaking up the ultraviolet light, recharging. Hermione didn't mind. She'd gotten used to Malfoy's prolonged silences, and after the first few days of experiencing them, she'd found there was a certain peace to be had in his ability to simply be quiet. It afforded her the chance to dive into a book when she had the energy or to drift into a nap when she was tired, without feeling rude for not keeping him entertained.

"When do you want to go home?" he asked after almost an hour as the sun slowly tracked its way across the sky and began sinking toward the horizon.

"Soon, I suppose," she admitted. "It's already the middle of August. So we'll be needing to collect our books and uniforms for school shortly, or they'll be sold out."

He hummed.

"I think it's probably time we checked on our parents in person, too," Hermione said. "The updates from the elves have been fine, but when Kreacher last appeared, he said my parents are showing signs of remembering. It might help them to see me in person and know that I'm real."

"Shall we line it up for the end of the week, then?" he offered.

Hermione nodded.

"That might be best," she answered quietly, though there was a sinking sort of sadness in the pit of her stomach to think that soon this carefree and relaxing life they'd been living would be coming to a close.

As though he could sense her mood, Malfoy's hands smoothed down her back to rest on her bum before he squeezed it firmly. Hermione squealed in surprise when he rolled her off him, following her over until he was on top of her before he smirked down at her hungrily.

"I hope you know that just because we're going home doesn't mean this sexathalon is over," he warned sinisterly, his smile positively licentious as he dipped his head to nuzzle into her neck, kissing her deliciously.

"Even if I'm already pregnant?" Hermione challenged huskily, her hands already hiking the skirt of her sundress up out of the way. At the same time, she wrapped her legs around his hips, having begun forgoing underwear to make it even easier to shag him whenever the urge struck her.

"Even if you're pregnant with octuplets," he assured her before diving down to claim her lips and snogging her into delirium.

~O~

"You'll come to the Manor, obviously," Draco frowned at Granger a week later when they landed back on British soil, staggering a little from the international portkey out of New York that had left them both dizzy and wrong-footed.

Hermione blinked at him.

"I need to go home," she argued. "I haven't been home since… oh god. Not since I set Ron and Parkinson on fire."

Malfoy smirked, beginning to laugh.

"I'd forgotten about that," he chuckled. "But so what if you haven't? There's nothing to go home to. Kreacher moved all your things to the Manor, you may recall. Even your cat."

Hermione eyed him, shaking her head slowly.

"Are you suggesting I just up and move in with you, Malfoy?" she asked quietly as they strolled toward the exit towing their trunks, overflowing as they were with souvenirs from every corner of the earth.

"Might as well," Malfoy shrugged. "Maybe you've forgotten, but that legally binding contract we signed states that even when we go to Hogwarts, we're expected to share a dwelling and a bed for the length of your pregnancy."

"Yes, but I'm not pregnant yet," Hermione reminded him.

She'd taken a test in New York before they'd booked the Portkey since such a long journey recommended against traveling in that manner while pregnant. Much to her surprise, the negative line on the test had been both a relief and a disappointment. Given how frequently they'd been shagging, it had seemed impossible that she could somehow not be pregnant yet, but she wasn't.

"All the more reason to have you join me at the Manor," Malfoy smirked, looping his arm around her shoulders casually and tucking her into his side before dropping a kiss to the top of her head like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Neither of them noticed the photographers loitering in the arrivals lounge awaiting the visit of some foreign dignitary come to treat with the Minister for Magic, hastily snapping pictures of the happy couple looking so young and carefree and in love.

"Don't you want some space from me before we're forced into close quarters at Hogwarts?" Hermione protested, looking up at him idly as they wandered in the direction of the Floo Network.

"Perhaps you've forgotten, Granger," he drawled sarcastically. "But it's a rather big building. If I'm desperately craving solace, I'm certain there is plenty to be had at the Manor."

Hermione frowned up at him, unsure why it was that he'd been so accommodating to her all this time. He'd taken her on a round-the-world trip and refusing to let her pay for anything but her souvenirs. He'd let her invade his bed for days when Kreacher had set her up in his care after what had happened with Ron.

"Don't look so worried," he teased. "If you desperately want to return to whatever hovel you were sharing with Weasley and Potter, I won't stop you, Granger."

Hermione bit her lip. She should go back there. She should put some distance between the two of them, try to gain some perspective with a bit of space when it wasn't the two of them sprinting headlong into whatever new adventure the day brought whenever they weren't rolling in the sheets. But they would have to share at Hogwarts, and she'd gotten so used to sharing her bed and her body with him during the trip that she didn't see the point in separating for the few days before they would return to school.

Especially since she would be back to sharing once they got there.

"If you don't mind having me there," Hermione shrugged.

"Excellent," he smirked before walking them both directly into one of the massive fireplaces without ever taking his arm from around her shoulders, both of the Flooing for Malfoy Manor like it was the most natural thing in the world.

When they arrived, elves rushed to greet them, bowing and offering to help them unpack, do the laundry, and bring them something to eat.

"Tired?" Malfoy asked, unfurling his arm from her shoulders as the elves dashed off with instructions for all of the above.

"A bit," Hermione nodded.

"Excellent," he said again, and Hermione shrieked when he stooped down and scooped her up bridal-style, carrying her through the Manor and up to his bedroom.

"You are incorrigible," Hermione informed him, clinging on for dear life while he carted her about like she weighed nothing.

"You mispronounced insatiable," he corrected her, grinning before reaching to steal a kiss from her hungry lips as he shouldered open the door to his bedroom.

When he carried her to bed, he set her down before his hands made short work of peeling her out of her jeans and jumper, stripping her to her underwear.

"Hello!?" a voice called out from somewhere away in the Manor, and Hermione froze in the middle of pulling Malfoy's shirt off over her head.

"Um… did you have house-sitters while we were away?" Hermione asked.

Draco wriggled back into his shirt, his hand going for his wand.

"Not to my knowledge," he growled, his eyes narrowed as he headed for the door.

Hermione quickly found her way back into her clothes, hurrying after him with her wand held out before her.

"Malfoy?" someone called. "Are you here?"

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when she heard Malfoy's surprised voice respond.

"Goyle?"

"You are home," Goyle answered, sounding pleased. "Where the hell have you been?"

Hermione shook her head, hurrying in the sounds of their voices when they drifted further away, Malfoy obviously planning to entertain his friend now that he'd returned. She didn't think she'd spoken to Goyle since sometime during the war, come to think about it. And if she was going to be forced to live with Malfoy for the coming who knew how long until she got pregnant and had given birth, she didn't imagine it would be easy to avoid the man.

Best to bury the hatchet.

"So," Goyle was saying when Hermione came across Malfoy and Goyle helping themselves to a pair of armchairs in what appeared to be some kind of sitting room in Malfoy's wing of the Manor. "You and Granger, eh?"

Malfoy was nodding, calling for the elves to bring them both coffee since it was still too early for whiskey.

"You took the deal then?" Goyle confirmed. "And she agreed?"

"Yeah," Malfoy nodded, glancing in Hermione's direction when she loitered in the doorway, unsure if she was welcome to join them and not wanting to put Malfoy out by just barging in. She didn't imagine someone like Goyle would have too much to say in her favor, and she'd rather not be subjected to bigotry if she could avoid it.

"Where've you been, anyway?" Goyle asked, changing the subject as though realizing that Malfoy wasn't going to elaborate on being matched to Hermione.

"Round-the-world tour," Malfoy smirked, settling into his chair and subtly beckoning for Hermione to join them if she wanted to.

"What?" Goyle barked. "Where was my invite, you bastard?"

Malfoy smirked over the rim of his mug when the elves popped in with coffee.

"I went with Granger," he said.

"Blimey," Goyle muttered. "She here?"

Malfoy nodded in Hermione's direction, and Goyle twisted quickly, looking uncomfortable to see her.

"Merlin," he said quietly when Hermione stepped slowly into the room, his eyes tracing over her from head to foot and looking as though he'd just seen a demon. "Granger."

He nodded his head in greeting, surprising her that he offered her even that much politeness, even if he did sort of grunt her name.

"Goyle," she said in reply, inclining her head in turn and crossing over to where Malfoy was sitting, perching idly on the armrest of his chair.

She noticed the way Goyle's eyes followed the trajectory of Malfoy's hand when he moved his arms around her back and smoothed his palm down the length of her spine. The other wizard's eyes narrowed a little bit, and a slightly resigned sort of expression arranged itself on his face.

"Been a while, eh?" he said to Hermione after a pregnant pause.

"I suppose it has," Hermione allowed, accepting the cup of tea that Kreacher brought to her with a smile at the old elf.

"You going back to Hogwarts in September?" Goyle asked, and Hermione could tell he was doing his best to be polite and make small talk, even though it was apparent he'd prefer she'd stayed away so he could meet with Malfoy in peace.

"I am," Hermione nodded. "You?"

He nodded too.

"Reckon it'll be a weird year," he said. "Maybe even weirder than the last. Rumour is, the castle's been altered to allow for the requirements of the cohabitations clause in our contracts."

"Well, they'd have to, wouldn't they?" Malfoy chimed in. "Though I'm surprised the Board of Governors would approve it. Doesn't exactly set a good example for the younger students to have the elder ones all knocked up and sleeping around."

"Sets a good example of people following the law, though, doesn't it?" Goyle shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time the Ministry has interfered at Hogwarts. Didn't think McGonagall would allow it, but maybe she had no choice."

"Repairs to the castle wouldn't have come cheap," Malfoy nodded. "And as a private institution, the Ministry wouldn't have to help foot the bill."

"It is a little morally bankrupt to display a collection of pregnant witches as role models for the younger students, though," Hermione frowned heavily. "School is supposed to be about learning and about getting good grades, not about having sex and especially not about getting pregnant."

"Don't reckon they'll be letting anyone in our age group be Prefect or Heads anyway," Goyle grunted. "Wouldn't be fair to the years behind us. We had our chance."

"We'll be too busy making babies to bother worrying about patrolling the corridors anyway," Malfoy rolled her eyes. "I will be, anyway."

He pinched Hermione's backside and made her jump before she turned to swat him though she laughed.

"I plan to prioritize my education, thank you very much," she chided him.

Malfoy scoffed.

"Yeah, okay," he drawled sarcastically before bouncing his eyebrows at Goyle.

"I mean it!" Hermione insisted. "There's no use going back to school to get our NEWTs if we're just going to shag all the time instead of studying."

"Don't reckon many people will have time for studying with baby's on the way, Granger," Goyle pointed out. "Exam time will fall right around the time babies are due if the pregnancies are conceived any time soon, or already have been over the summer."

Hermione froze, her eyes widening in horror, realizing she hadn't even considered that yet.

"Oh, sweet Merlin," she breathed, horrified. "Thank Nimue, I'm not pregnant yet. I refuse to miss the end-of-year exams just because of some… some…."

"Granger," Malfoy soothed, his hand running up and down her back once more. "We have a contract to fulfill."

"Nope," she shook her head, getting to her feet and stepping out of his reach, turning to him with fear and hostility in her eyes. "I'm getting my NEWTs, Malfoy. I mean it. No wretched Ministry plot is going to keep me from it. Not again. Not even pregnancy."

"Technically, if you got pregnant now, the baby would be here before exams start," Malfoy pointed out.

"But I'm not pregnant now," she reminded him. "I took that test this morning before the Portkey."

"We've shagged twice since then," he pointed out, smirking at her wickedly before shooting a smug look at Goyle, who wrinkled his nose in mild disgust.

"Oh, god," Hermione breathed, paling even further. "I won't do it. Babies steal sleep and demand constant attention, and if I'm tired, I won't be able to study with a screaming baby hanging off me."

"Pretty sure they'll allow for babysitters so you can study, Granger," Malfoy shook his head, looking amused by her increasing panic.

"What if they don't?" she demanded, her hands jumping to her hair and running through the curls as they began to kink out of control while her anxiety ratcheted up several notches. "What if it screams all night, every night. I'll… I'll smother it. I have to be able to study I…."

"The Ministry's already threatening people avoiding the clause to begin trying for a kid as soon as they can. They're insisting on paternity tests to confirm those who've gotten pregnant have done so with their approved partner before they give out the money," Goyle interrupted.

"There, see, Granger, you can protest all you want, but unless you want them to cease all work on healing your parents, you'll have to get pregnant and juggle the consequences around studying for the exams," Malfoy pointed out.

Hermione's mind was racing, jumping through calculations of how long she would be pregnant and when she would need to try and time the pregnancy to allow herself to be pregnant and not yet have given birth by the time of the exams.

"If I don't get pregnant until after the end of November," she said quickly. "I would only be seven months along at exam time."

"Don't reckon whatever fates guide your conception will give a shit about your calculations, Granger," Goyle chuckled.

Hermione's eyes jumped to Malfoy's face, noting the way his brow furrowed.

"You're already drinking a fertility tea, Granger," he reminded her. "And if we shagged any more frequently than we have been, I think we'd end up in the hospital. But, if the baby comes by exam time, so be it."

Hermione shook her head. "I can do this," she insisted. "I can plan it. The window, remember? We just have to avoid the window."

Malfoy shook his head.

"They'll investigate if it takes too long, Granger," he pointed out.

"We can deal with that later," Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "I… I need to go. I need a bath. I need to purge this tea from my system."

She nodded at the tea Kreacher had been giving her.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows.

"You're joking?" he confirmed.

Hermione shooked her head, deadly serious.

"You're mental, Granger," Goyle accused her.

Hermione huffed before she turned and hurried from the room, intent on a long soak in the tub to wash away any leavings Malfoy might've planted in her during the recent love-making and plotting ways to turn his bathroom into a sauna. Maybe she could sweat out the effects of the tea Kreacher had been giving her all the faster.

No Ministry concocted plot was going to rob her of all the NEWTs she rightly deserved. Not this time.

"Granger!" Malfoy called after her, but Hermione didn't stop to debate the matter any further.

Goyle's laughter followed her out the door as he called in her wake. "Nice to see you too, Granger."