Hermione chewed her thumb as she paced outside of the Room of Requirement—a horrible nervous habit that drove Draco mad, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop, especially not at the moment.
When the door appeared, granting her entrance to the Room of Hidden Things where she’d find Draco and Theo tinkering about with that gods-forsaken cabinet, she paused. Biting her thumb raw, she stared at it, wishing she could put this conversation off for at least another week.
Draco had been so agitated lately. He wasn’t eating properly or sleeping enough, and worst of all, he’d given up on his school work all together. Hermione understood that Draco was racing against Voldemort’s patience, and that his mother’s safety was the prize, but it broke her heart to see him like this.
And now, they’d gone and—they hadn’t been careful.
Hermione’s nerves flared, bringing tears to her eyes and making her chest heave with quick, anxious breaths.
Merlin, there was no way she could tell Theo and Draco about this—not now, not when the war was picking up and so much was at stake.
But realistically, she had to tell them, and the sooner she did so, the better.
Sighing, Hermione grabbed the door handle and threw it open before she talked herself out of starting this very difficult conversation. She knew she couldn’t bring a child into this world alone, after all. Weaving through the lopsided towers of broken furniture, books, cauldrons, broomsticks, and discarded clothing, Hermione steeled herself. She could do this—she would do this.
When she spotted Theo, lounging in the throne he’d found last month with his chin resting on one fist, staring at Draco’s long legs which stuck out underneath the cabinet, Hermione felt some assurance. Theo and Draco loved her. Regardless of the war, how young they all were, or the fact that they had to keep their relationship a secret, Hermione knew they loved her, and because they loved her, they would love this baby, too.
Theo looked up, and a slow smile stretched across his face when his eyes met hers.
“Hello, Gorgeous,” he purred, straightening until he sat properly on the throne. He patted his lap with pouty lips, and Hermione rolled her eyes then went and sat where he wanted. Theo’s arms came around her, and he inhaled deeply at her neck before placing a kiss on her temple.
“Where have you been, Sweet? Draco is moody and doesn’t want to play.”
“Harry needed help with his Transfiguration essay, and I wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to start looking at the map again before I left.”
Theo wrapped one of her curls around his finger and pulled. It bounced right back into place, making him smile. “It would make your life much easier if you would just tell Potter about us. It’s been nearly two years, Hermione.”
“I know.” And she did. This wouldn’t be the first time Theo or Draco brought this up, and it wouldn’t be the last.
“If he’s truly your friend, he’ll understand. If he cares for you like a sister, as you care for him like a brother, then he’ll be happy for you.”
Hermione sighed, relaxing into Theo. She knew Harry deserved to know about her relationship with Draco and Theo. He was convinced that Draco was a Death Eater, and unfortunately, Harry was right, but there was nuance to Draco’s taking the mark that Harry wasn’t ready to understand. Maybe he never would be. Regardless, Hermione wasn’t ready to confess this secret life she’d been living behind his back—fraternizing with his enemies. If only Harry, and Ron for that matter, could see the shades of gray in their world of black and white that Hermione did.
“I didn’t mean to upset you, Gorgeous. You know I like being your dirty little Slytherin secret, but—” Theo paused, brows furrowing as he considered his next words. “I guess I just wish this could be different. I want to be with you and Draco outside of this room, publicly.”
With the forlorn look Theo gave her, a crack formed on Hermione’s heart, ripping through the tissue and breaking it in two.
“You and me both,” Draco sighed, having come up for air. The dark circles under his eyes, the gaunt cheeks—they were really starting to worry Hermione.
“Come here,” Hermione said, scooting over, and as Draco stood laboriously, as if it took every ounce of the little energy he had left, she reached for him, pulling him onto Theo’s lap with her.
They just sat like that for a while, heads together, limbs twisted and breaths syncing as they held onto one another. The only sound in the seemingly endless Room of Hidden Things was the sound of their breathing.
Hermione didn’t realize she’d started crying until Draco’s warm thumb brushed a tear from her check.
“We’ll be fine,” he said. “We’ve almost got the cabinet fixed, and once I—once I finish my mission and my mother is safe, we can—”
Hermione shook her head, not because she didn’t believe him—and she certainly didn’t, seeing as Draco was marked, and his first mission as a marked Death Eater was to kill one of the most powerful wizards alive—no, she was crying because they were already carrying so much weight on their shoulders. This baby would drive them all into the ground. They couldn’t possibly carry more. “It’s not—I just—I’m not sure how to tell you both.”
“What’s the matter, Sweet?” Theo asked, lips close to her ear. “Tell us. We can’t help you if we don’t know.”
Draco nodded, gently grabbing her chin and forcing her to meet his gray eyes. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together. Just like the cabinet, no matter what.”
Hermione tried to gulp her rising anxiety back down her throat. “It’s not bad. At least, I don’t think it is, but it’s a complication that I’m not sure we’re ready for at the moment.”
“Ominous,” Theo said, earning a slap on the knee from Draco.
“Just tell us, Hermione,” Draco said.
“Okay—I’m pregnant,” she said, and just saying it out loud sent a chill down her spine. Merlin, they were teenagers at war.
“f*ck,” Draco breathed. “f*ck!” He stood and started pacing, hands grabbing his hair and pulling. “How could this happen?”
“Well,” Theo drawled, “w at least two people love each other very much and neglect to use contraceptive charms in the heat of passion—”
“Shut the f*ck up, Theo!” Draco shouted.
“I—I—I should’ve been more careful,” Hermione said, trying to ease the tension. “It’s not like me, to forget something so important, and then forget that it happened, but we’ve just been going through so much with the cabinet, and Narcissa, and Harry, and Theo’s awful father, and my parents that—”
“Stop, Granger,” Draco said, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in his. “It isn’t your fault. We were all there. We’re all to blame.”
Theo scoffed. “I’m certainly not to blame. I’m far too young to be a father.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “We both came in the same place that night, Theo, and we’re both the same age. You’re just as likely to be the father as I am.”
“I’m younger at heart!”
“Theo,” Hermione warned.
He sighed, relaxing into his throne underneath Hermione. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood. You’re both acting like this is the end of the world.”
“Isn’t it?” Hermione asked.
“Of course not,” Theo brushed her hair away from her neck. “We all love each other. This was bound to happen eventually, and I quite like the idea of a mini-Draco-Granger bossing me about.”
“It could be a mini-Theo-Granger,” Draco said, “and if that’s the case, we ought to start stocking our library now.”
Hermione smiled softly as they went back and forth, discussing the potential merits of their future child as if it was completely sane and normal to have a baby while still in Hogwarts and on opposite sides of the war.
Draco must have noticed Hermione wasn’t quite following along any longer, so he came back over to sit beside her again. “It’ll be—difficult, but we’ll be fine, Granger.”
“Better than fine,” Theo insisted, holding both their hands.
“Better than fine,” Hermione agreed, and as she looked back and forth between the two of them, taking in their determined expressions, she believed it.
