A/N: I know I only got one review for the last chapter, but I like writing this story so I'm writing another chapter. It'd be great if I got reviews this time! Even if they were about how much you didn't like the story.
Alenor: Thanks for the review! I really appreciate it; you were my only reviewer!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters.
The next few weeks went by happily for Hermione and Ron. They were so glad to see Ginny, and she spent quite a bit of time with them during her stay. She now had a husband and two daughters. She had been thoughtful enough to name one of them Hermione.
That didn't exactly make up for fourteen years of absence from the lives of her family and closest friends, but what can you do?
Hermione was now getting a little bit less suspicious of Ginny's intentions. She was starting to think that maybe she did just want to take a vacation to England for a few weeks and leave her obnoxious celebrity lifestyle behind. Maybe she truly did want to catch up with old friends and try to at least make up for a little bit of what she took away.
On top of all this, there was something else Hermione couldn't wait to discover the truth about.
Ginny was staying in the nicest hotel she could find in London. It was very nice. It sort of depressed her when she saw the shithole her brother was living in and thought about the mansion she had back home in L.A. She felt badly for the way she had treated her family, but then again she couldn't really help it. She'd grown up in a fucked up, dysfunctional family with messed up friends and crazy lives. She didn't find it hard to believe that Harry was missing in action and probably posing as a Muggle real estate agent or something equally as ludicrous, and Hermione had dropped out of a nice job at the Ministry to become a waitress at a restaurant where she made just about zero cash. The wizarding world wasn't a fun one that was full and blossoming with opportunities. It was full of fear, frustration, anger, death, pain, and fighting. It wasn't a place that anyone wanted to be in.
She was due to go home in a few days and she was perfectly happy with that. It was nice to catch up with her family. She saw her parents still living at The Burrow, she visited George who was living in a quaint house in the outskirts of London with three kids and a charming wife. She sent owls to three of her brothers who lived far away, including Fred, who had moved to a chateau in France where he currently resided with his most recent girlfriend: a French model. Percy had started his own family in the suburbs as well, working at the Ministry with his brother, although in a different department. It made her happy to see that her family had their own ways of being successful and happy. No one wanted to end up like their parents.
Harry looked at his list of patients for that day. Abigail Greenfield, Serena Carpenter, Katharine Schvitzenberg, Hermione Granger, Laura Hea- What? Harry did a double take. He looked back at that last name; Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger. He could not believe his eyes. Hermione Granger. He hadn't seen or spoken to her in over ten years and now he was going to see her after so much silence because she happened to choose him as a gynecologist?
Then it occurred to him: She was 33-years-old, the last time he was in contact with her she was in a solid relationship with Ron Weasley, and knowing them they were probably still together. Was she pregnant? Come to think of it, they most likely had fifteen kids already...
All he knew was that he couldn't wait for that appointment later that day.
Hermione was nervous as she waited in the waiting room of "Dr. Harry J. Potter M.D.". It was weird to think that that was her old friend from Hogwarts, and that he used to be considered the best wizard who had the most potential and blah, blah, blah. How the bloody hell did he end up as a gynecologist?
"Hermione Granger," the woman behind the desk announced.
"Oh, yes, me." Hermione was a bit frazzled.
She gathered up her various bags and coats and entered the check-up room.
"Hermione," he said quietly before giving his old friend a long, warm hug. They parted. "It's been a long time."
"It has," Hermione agreed. She could even feel herself tearing up, as ridiculous as that actualy was. She wiped her eye.
"What brings you here?" He sat down on the edge of a table that contained lots of frightening-looking metal instruments.
"Well," Hermione started. She took a breath. This was weird. "I think I might be. Pregnant."
Harry raised his eyebrows. He wasn't quite sure how to react. He still was under the impression that she and Ron had fifteen babies running around the house. "What number will this be for you?"
Harry couldn't hide the shock from his face. "This will be your first? I'm surprised; I would've though you and Ron would be popping 'em out by now." Harry chuckled.
Hermione shook her head and looked at her hands folded in her lap.
Harry hesitated before asking, "I really don't have to check you out, do I? Because that would be sort of weird..."
Hermione forced a laugh. "No, you don't." She looked up at him, at his piercingly green eyes. She chewed on the inside of her lip. "Look, there's something else you need to know."
"Yeah, I had a really nice time."
She giggled. "Me too."
"Maybe I'll see you later? You have my number, right?" Pause. "Give me a call."
Draco could recite it by now. That was the routine Blaise went through everytime he let a girl go after banging her. He never saw the girl again. Draco sometimes wished that Blaise would help him get some, sometimes.
It was safe for him to leave his room. Blaise was on the couch. "Bloody hell, could you help me out once in a while?" Draco asked helplessly.
Blaise looked up from the TV. "Huh?"
"You get all these girls, bring them home, fuck them, and then toss them out the door," he explained. "How in hell do you do it?"
Blaise shrugged. "I just have that charm, that's all."
Draco sat down next to him on the couch. "That's just it. I used to have that charm. I had it in school. Where did it go?"
Blaise shrugged again. "You're moving, anyway."
Draco nodded. "That's true. But who says American chicks'll be any different?"
Blaise stared at his friend incredulously, his eyebrows raised. "You're kidding, right?"
Draco didn't respond.
"Fuck this." Blaise got up and stumbled off to his room, probably to go to sleep. It was only 5:54 p.m.
A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. Draco got up to answer it. Standing outside his flat was a teenage boy with practically white hair and the freaking scariest eyes Draco had ever seen.
"Can I help you?"
"Are you Draco Malfoy?" the boy asked, looking at a slip of paper clenched in a shaking fist as he asked the question.
"Depends on who you are." Draco was confused. Very confused.
"I'm Leo. Your son."
Time stood still. "What?" Draco was incredulous. This kid must have some sort of disorder and got separated from the short bus-
"My name is Leo. I'm sixteen years old and I'm your son."
"You've got to be kidding me. Is this some sort of joke? Do you think this is funny?" He was starting to get angry. Who the hell would play some sort of a sick joke like this?
"This isn't a joke. I was put up for adoption by my birth mother when she had me when she was seventeen," the boy- "Leo"- explained.
"And who was your birth mother?" Draco could feel himself start to tremble slightly. This boy had his same coloring, but he distinguishably had his mother's mouth, face shape, jaw line-
"Hermione Granger," "Leo" read from the paper again.
"Holy shit," Draco breathed. He put his hand to his forehead and looked at the ground. He turned sideways and stared at the floor for a minute. Then he remembered a scared shitless sixteen-year-old boy standing at his doorway. "Sorry." He looked up at him. "Um... Do you want to come in?"
"O-okay." The kid warily stepped inside, looking around the crappy apartment.
"I'm not really used to this," Draco mumbled to himself.
The kid forced a laugh. He could tell it was forced.
"This is kinda weird."
The next day Hermione waited up until 4:13 a.m. exactly, when Ron came home from work. She jumped into his arms when he walked through the door.
"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" he asked.
She smiled. "I wanted to tell you something."
"What is it?"
She made him sit down on his bed before she told him the news. "I'm pregnant."
It was music to his ears.
A/N: ... I don't know if that was any good but please review and say whatever you feel neccessary. I'll give you the soundtrack to Pirates of the Caribbean.