Do You Wanna Know A Secret?
The Start of Our Lives
Summary: After a drunken one night stand, bushy-haired bookworm Hermione Granger finds out that she is pregnant to none other than Master of Apathy Draco Malfoy. They begin their lives as teenage parents and learn to live together and maybe even eventually fall in love?
Chapter One: Do You Want To Know A Secret?
It had been happening for the past five days and she was getting utterly sick of it; the nausea, the bad dreams, the constant bending over the toilet to spill out her lunch contents... Hermione Granger was fed up.
Groaning, she pushed herself up off the cold bathroom floor where she had just rushed to as soon as Transfiguration was over. She remembered yelling at Professor McGonagall to let her out of the classroom and remembered the stern Professor scolding her like a small child and taking five points from Gryffindor. Hermione was forced to wait in agony for the bell to ring before she had raced from the room, down the corridor and into the nearest girl's bathroom, spitting insults at McGonagall under her breath the whole time. She grimaced in embarrassment. She had to go down and apologize immediately.
Flushing the toilet once more, she unlocked the cubicle door and stepped out into the dank bathroom on the first floor. Her eyes half closed, she stumbled to the sink so she could wash her hands. She splashed her red face with the cold water and sighed, griping the sink so hard her knuckles turned white. She heard a giggle from behind her. Her head snapped up. Standing behind her in the reflection of the cracked mirror was Moaning Myrtle, the ghost who haunted this very bathroom.
Hermione whirled around. "Myrtle! What are you doing here?"
The ghost raised herself to her fullest height and straightened her glasses. "What am I doing here? asks Little Miss Bossy-Boots. Does Little Miss Bossy-Boots not remember that this is MY bathroom!" She shrieked. "Ohh, nooo, no one remembers me! Why should anyone remember miserable, little ol' me!" She gulped in great big gasps of air and wiped pearly silver tears from under her thick glasses.
Hermione rolled her brown eyes. "Oh, Myrtle, give it a rest."
This was too much for her to take. She flew right up to Hermione's face and yelled, "Oh, sure! Let's tell Myrtle to give it a rest because she's dead! Let's tell Myrtle to give it rest because she's nothing! Well let me tell you something Little Miss Bossy-Boots; the next time you come in here to throw up, you will and I mean you WILL face the wrath of me!"
And with that, she let out a high, piteous moan, soared once around the dim-lighted room and zoomed straight down into a toilet.
Stunned, Hermione staggered out, wondering what on earth she had said to make the ghost scream at her like that.
The lunch bell rang and soon, Hermione was surrounded by flocks of black-robed students, all ravenous and all heading towards the Great Hall. She took a seat at the Gryffindor table, poured herself a goblet of pumpkin juice and waited for her friends to appear.
Within minutes, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were sitting across from her, their plates already piled high with chicken wings and steak-and-kidney pie.
"What was up with you in Transfiguration?" Harry immediately asked whilst Ron stuffed a whole wing into his mouth, his cheeks bulging. Hermione almost gagged. She quickly covered her mouth.
"Nothing, I was just feeling a bit ill."
"Feeling a bit crazy, more like it!" Ron sprayed Hermione with tomato sauce. She picked up a napkin and wiped her face with it before handing it to Ron who took it with a muffled, "Thanks." He swallowed and gazed at her. "I can't believe you yelled at McGonagall like that!"
"What did I say?" Hermione gasped, ignoring the gut-churning pain in her stomach. She clutched at it and took a small sip of juice. "What did I say?" she repeated.
Harry and Ron exchanged a look with one another. "Er," Ron began. "Not much. You just sort of screamed at her to let you out of the room and when she didn't, you, er, sort of banged your fists on the desk and moaned and yelled out that she's a...well..." He glared at Harry who had laughed and then said, "You said that she was a great old hag and then the bell rang, luckily and then you just ran out and, er, everyone was a bit surprised at you-"
"A bit?" Harry cut in, chortling. "Hermione, you're practically the talk of the school."
"Oh, great," Hermione grumbled. "Umm, I think I'm going to skip out on afternoon classes."
The two boys gawked at her, making her feel like an exotic animal locked in a cage at the zoo with a gaggle of people poking and prodding at her. "What?" She asked, annoyed.
"Hermione," Ron breathed out in an amazed whisper. "You've never, ever, wanted to skip out on a class before!"
"Yeah," Harry agreed, "Never. What's gotten into you? First, you insult McGonagall and now you want to actually skip out on classes!"
"This is just like the time you walked out on Trelawney’s class and then slapped Malfoy the same day!" Ron ogled her like she was something to be admired.
The mention of Malfoy's made Hermione's heart pummel a hundred times faster and her throat collapse. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she thought back to that night, six weeks ago. She squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her head so that the boys wouldn't notice that she was crying.
She remembered waking up the next morning with no recollection on how she had gotten back into her bed. The memories of the past night washed over her and she buried her face in her pillow and cried, cried at what she had done, cried at what she thought of herself as, cried because she had just made the biggest mistake of her life.
Hermione forced herself to smile and merely said, "Just tired, I think I need a nap. I'll see you guys tonight." And with that, she got up, swung her book bag around her back and strolled out of the Hall, with her head held high and her nose slightly in the air in classic Hermione fashion.
Draco Malfoy sat at the Slytherin table and watched Hermione Granger stalk out of the Great Hall. When she was halfway out of the high-ceilinged room, she lost all composure and started to run. He knew that she was heading for her Common Room. He thought about following her. He was midway out of his seat before he lowered himself back in it and shook his head. Get a grip, Draco.
He knew he had done the wrong thing. He knew that it had probably scared her for life. He closed his life, flashbacks replaying over and over again in his head. He hated himself for doing that to her. It just proved that he was a heartless, cold, Muggle-born hating typical Slytherin. He mentally chided himself. Obviously I don't hate Muggle-borns like I did anymore...I don't even say the word Mud- NO! Don't even think that word Draco!
He knew that if he was sober he would never have done it. For the past few months, Draco had been realizing his true feelings for Hermione Granger, the girl he had hated for four years. But he didn't feel that way anymore.
At the end of the Triwizard Tournament just a couple of months previously, Draco had watched Hermione out of the corner of his eye as Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beaubatons Academy sat in the Great Hall, mourning the death of Cedric Diggory. Draco watched as silent tears poured from Hermione's eyes and he found himself wishing that he could be the one to wipe away his tears. He closed his silver-gray eyes and imagined himself sitting next to her, his arms around her, comforting her, taking away all the grief that she felt for the lost Hufflepuff. He wrenched himself back into reality.
But over the summer holidays, he found himself thinking more and more about her. Just little things they were. Like the way she touched everything as though it was made from glass. Or how her flawless, creamy skin looked so silky, so touchable, so kissable. Or the way that she bit her lip when she was nervous. Or the way that she rose one of her characteristic eyebrows when she was questioning something.
Then one night, he dreamed that he was lying in bed with her, kissing every part of her supple body. He woke up and suddenly, something in him shifted. He had a crush on Hermione Granger, best friend of Potty and the Weasel, the buck-teethed book-loving nerd. He didn't understand why. But he felt as though he was a changed man.
"Hermione. Hermione! Wake up!"
"Mmph! Go away," a bedraggled Hermione muttered in her sleep.
"Not likely, 'Mione."
Hermione opened her eyes. Ginny Weasley was standing over her, hands on hips, lips pursed. She reminded Hermione very much of herself and she giggled, causing Ginny to arch an eyebrow.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing. Why did you wake me up?"
"Because you were talking in your sleep."
Hermione's cheeks darkened. "Was not."
"Yeah, you were."
Hermione sat up straight in the cushy red armchair by the fireplace. "Are you sure? What was I saying?"
"Well, not much. You kept yelling out, "Gimme the jar, the jar, the jar!"
Hermione blushed further. She knew that she had indeed been yelling that out. She had been dreaming that she was sitting in a dark circular room and there had been a shelf near the ceiling with a jar of pickles sitting atop of it. A tall hooded figure sat on the shelf, teasingly tossing the jar up and down. She was infuriated. All she wanted was that jar of pickles.
"Uh, well, I don't recall that..."
Ginny tucked a long piece of fiery red hair behind her left ear and sighed. "Hermione, I heard about what you said to McGonagall today."
Hermione blushed so hard that she could actually feel the heat radiating from her cheeks. "How did you-"
"Gossip spreads around this school like wildfire."
Hermione leaned back in her armchair and shook her head. "I don't know what came over me."
"It's obvious isn't it?" Ron butted in as he perched himself on the arm of her chair. "You've obviously got your period."
The word hit Hermione like a ton of bricks. Period. She didn't have her period. In fact she hadn't had her period for...
She counted the days in her head backwards. No, that couldn't be right. She counted again. The number of days was frighteningly large.
Her periods had always been exactly on time. It couldn't be true. I can't be. There was no way that she was.
Ginny must have noticed the expression change on Hermione's face because she grabbed both of her thin wrists. "Hermione, what's up?"
"Ginny, I have to talk to you," Hermione said in a faraway voice, sounding nothing like herself. A fleeting look of worry passed over Ginny's pale freckled face.
"Of course Hermione, but-"
"In private, please." Ron squinted up at her, as if he was shielding his eyes from the sun. "Hermione, you can tell me too."
Hermione shook her head vigorously. "No, I can't. I..." Without finishing her sentence she turned around and walked up the stairs to the girl's dorms, Ginny at her heels.
Hermione pushed open the door to her room and saw to her relief at all five beds were empty. Good. She needed the privacy. She sat down on her bed, Indian-style, and wrung her hands together. Ginny sat across from her.
"Ginny...I, um...I think I know why I've been acting so weird lately."
"Okay, good. What is it? Anything I can help you with?"
Hermione shrugged and scratched her chin, something she always did when she was nervous. "I don't know, maybe. Ginny, I, um...I think that I'm...well...sort of...y'know...maybe..."
"Oh, my God, spit it out Hermione! You're making me nervous!"
"." A tumble of words poured out of Hermione's mouth and Ginny didn't understand one of them.
"Can you say that again, slower?"
"I think that I might be...pregnant."
A flurry of emotions were displayed across Ginny's face, the closet girl friend that she had. Hermione Granger had never even kissed someone, let alone have sex. And then she remembered something...
"Is it Viktor's?" was the first thing out of her mouth.
"Is it Viktor's?"
Ginny sighed in frustration. "What is so impossible to understand? Is-it-Viktor's?"
Hermione looked at her friend as though she had the mentality of a two-year-old. "What do you mean, is it Viktor's? Of course it isn't Viktor's, honestly! If it was his then I'd be at least four months and I'm nowhere near so...how could you assume something so ridiculous?"
"Ridiculous? He was your boyfriend, wasn't he? And didn't you go visit him over the summer?"
"You know perfectly well that I was staying at the Inn with my parents. You were there too," Hermione snapped coldly. Ginny's usually bright brown eyes suddenly mirrored Hermione's voice.
"Wait. You didn't have sex with Harry did you?"
Hermione almost reached out and slapped her. "Harry? Harry! Do you seriously think that I would have sex with Harry? Of all people!"
"What's wrong with Harry?"
"He's my best friend, that's what's wrong with him! You know that I would never have a...a...one-night stand with one of my best friends."
"Then who was it? Ron? Seamus? Dean? Neville?" Hermione cracked up at the last name.
"No, it was none of them and it most certainly wasn't Neville!"
"Okay, so it was no one in Gryffindor? Who else was at the Inn?"
Students going into fifth, sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts were invited to stay at the Inn in famous wizarding town Hogsmeade in August with their families.. Hermione had boarded with Ginny, Parvati, Lavender and Aydan Marcaelli, one of Ginny's friends. The students had tons of fun roaming around the village, practicing spells and sneaking bottles of Firewhiskey right under their parents noses. Hermione's stomach churned at the thought of Firewhiskey; the drink that had led to this conversation and to her unwanted pregnancy.
"...Terry Boot, Michael Corner, Blaise Zabini, Justin Filch-Fletchley...any of those guys?"
Hermione shook her head and bit her lip hard, drawing blood. "No."
Ginny slapped her hand down on the blankets in aggravation. "Then who! Hermione, please tell me!"
Hermione knew that when she answered, her whole life would change. She would be discriminated against, people would throw snide remarks at her, she would be asked to leave Hogwarts, she knew that she would be expelled. She was a Prefect, what a bad role model she would be to all the younger kids or possibly looked up to her? Why did this have to happen to her? She was a good person...right?
Hermione closed her eyes, swallowed deeply and then opened her eyes again and looked straight into Ginny's eyes and uttered, in barely more than a whisper;