Hello again! I'm still working on my longer fic but I had this idea that popped into my head last week and I just had to take a short break and write it down. It's only going to be about four chapters. As always, these characters are not mine and I'm just a Harry Potter fan with a huge imagination. I hope you enjoy. Please read and review. :)

One Night, One Mistake

Hermione cringed as the sunlight streamed across her face. Her head was pounding already and she'd not even opened her eyes yet.

Too much firewhiskey.

She lifted a shaky hand and rubbed it down her face as she groaned to herself. As her eyes fluttered open and she glanced around the room, her brow quickly furrowed. This wasn't her bed. This wasn't her comforter. This wasn't her room!

As she assessed her current situation it became quite clear that she was in a hotel room based upon the sterile and bland decoration. She shifted under the blankets and her heart froze. Merlin, she wasn't wearing clothes.

Biting her lip to contain any sound she slipped carefully out of bed, clutching the sheet to her chest as she spied her clothes from the night before.

She'd never gotten so drunk before and certainly did not sleep with random men. One glance back at the bed and the broad, muscular shoulders facing her, she knew that latter had definitely been the case.

She withheld a whimper as she tried to quietly redress. She had no idea what to do. Did she wake the man and ask what he remembered? The soreness between her legs let her know with nearly one hundred percent certainty what had transpired between them. Did she slip out without a word and pray he didn't know her?

"Bloody hell," she murmured to herself as she hooked her bra and then quickly reached for her shirt.

Deciding now wasn't the time for Gryffindor bravery, she tip-toed to the door with her shoes in one hand. The man groaned and flipped over to face her. She froze, her eyes going wide when she saw his face.

No. Just no. Surely not.

Draco's eyes fluttered open and he smacked his lips against the dryness he felt in his throat. His eyes focused slowly until he took in his surroundings, namely the woman clutching a pair of trainers to her chest, back pressed to the door as she stared wide-eyed at him.

Familiar features caught his attention and he sat up with a start.

"Granger," he growled.

Draco realized quite quickly what situation he was in, naked under the rough hotel sheets and muscles feeling quite used.

How much had he had to drink the night before? He'd never taken a witch to bed after a night of drinking. Just wasn't his style. Sure, he'd had his share of relationships but he wasn't one for an easy shag. There was no chase. No entertainment. No challenge.

"I-I'm just going," Hermione stuttered as she tottered around trying to put on her shoes.

Draco scrambled from the bed as gracefully as he could manage, ignoring her shriek when he presented her with his bare behind while he searched for his boxers.

He stomped over to the nervous witch, ignoring the ridiculousness of his state of dress or lack thereof. He'd never seen Hermione Granger quite so nervous and put out looking and had he another state of mind, he might have taken a moment to analyze it a bit more.

"Consider this the best day of your life, Granger because you'll never be this lucky again. I must have been well out of my mind to sleep with you," he snarled the last word.

He watched as she drew herself up more like her normal self.

"Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy," she frowned up at him.

Truly, the witch was fucking tiny. What with the way she had to tilt her head back to make eye contact while standing this close.

He scowled at her as he hovered over her. "I detest you, Granger. Everything about you turns me off."

His cold eyes roved over her slowly, ignoring her indignant frown. It wasn't true but she didn't need to know that. The morning light was playing off of her golden brown curls, slightly mussed from sleep. Her lips red and pouting with irritation. Truthfully, he'd have a go at her sober any day if their history wasn't so damned murky.

But he wasn't stupid. If he didn't take her down a notch, she'd only do it to him by reminding him what scum he was. It had been five years since the war and he'd not really seen her since. Running into her in the pub last night had been a cataclysmic misfortune on his part. She'd really hate him after this. All that damn work to improve his image post-war and one word from her at the Ministry could ruin him and his company.

It was too bloody early in the morning and he was too hung over to deal with feelings of self-loathing over past mistakes. So he continued on with his lies.

"Don't build yourself up with this. I was clearly drunk. I'd never lower myself to sleeping with you otherwise. I get tens, Granger. I don't settle for twos."

The witch stared up at him, deep set anger and hatred glaring back at him.

Good. She should hate him. He wasn't worth her time.

Hermione felt the moisture beginning to build around her eyes and shoved him away as she slipped out the door.

Draco watched and waited until he heard the familiar crack of her disapparating before he sighed.

If she didn't hate him before then she certainly would now. He'd always played the part of the prick well.

While he had no glowing feelings of love and adoration for the witch, he certainly didn't think as lowly of her as he'd said. It was easier to scare her off though. Better than some complicated post-shag confusion he didn't have the patience to deal with.

Five Months Later

"I never quite get these books," Ginny frowned as she flipped through a slim book.

Hermione glanced at the cover and rolled her eyes. She was surprised Flourish and Blott's even stocked something like it. "I seriously doubt you can really learn what you need from a bloody book," she shook her head.

Her mother had told her as such when her father thought to give her several, though he frowned about it. He'd received a rather firm slap to the back of his head for that and her mother had ushered him out of the room while she consoled her daughter.

A tiny pink 'plus' had doomed her. She'd taken the muggle route when she'd begun suspecting what was happening to her body. She didn't think she could have managed her wand for the proper spell at that point and chose peeing on a stick in her mother's bathroom instead.

They'd cried together, particularly when Hermione had dodged questions about the man responsible. Her mother had worked it out of her though and her frown of disappointment about killed her.

Yet Mrs. Granger had just hugged her twenty-three year old daughter tighter and assured her it would be fine. She had a job, she had a home, and the support of her friends and family. She didn't have to involve him if she didn't want to.

Harry and Ron had been all too insistent about that option. They assured her they'd be there for her and she didn't need to even tell him if she didn't want to. Ginny, oddly, felt he should know but didn't push the issue when it seemed to upset Hermione so badly. She wouldn't tell them the things he'd said to her the morning after. Didn't want to risk having to write Harry and Ron up for unlawful hexing off the job.

Hermione just shook her head as Ginny perused the book with growing intensity. She knew that she and Harry were considering children now that they were married but weren't quite ready yet.

She left her friend and wandered into the fiction section. Work had been rough lately and her hormones were off kilter. Perhaps a good story was in order to lose herself in.

She didn't notice when she stepped too close to someone behind her and bumped into them. It was like stepping into a brick wall as she stumbled forward.

The man turned and reached out to steady her, large hands gripping her shoulders gently.

"Thank you…" she trailed off when she tipped her head back to see his face. A cold chill worked its way down her spine as she stared into those hard, grey eyes. She swallowed and averted her gaze, "Excuse me."

Draco eyed the witch he'd not seen since that horrible morning and his brows ticked up as they roved over her form. He was fairly certain she'd gained weight and oddly it was all in her middle. Not much but noticeable on a woman as slender as she'd always been.

"Granger…gain some weight," he smirked a bit. If looks could scorch he'd probably have been burned alive as she turned back to him.

Hermione swallowed against the heat in her throat, the bile rising. It wasn't morning sickness. She'd been over that for a month now.

She'd not intended for him to ever find out. It was easy to avoid any Ministry event he might be invited to and they didn't run in the same social circles. The Prophet hadn't spoken a word which might have been because Harry had caught wind of a suggestive article getting ready to be run when a photographer noticed the changes in her form. She never did ask him just how much he paid them to stay quiet but they'd not printed a word.

Yet here Draco Malfoy was and he could clearly see her. Surely, he wasn't that stupid.

She wanted to hurt the git. Hex him and physically maim him much the way she'd slapped him third year. It was the only explanation for why she gave into her need to upset him with her next words.

"I'm pregnant," she spoke darkly.

Draco lifted a pale brow and nodded. He assumed she was in a relationship with a nice bloke. Some Ministry equal because there was no way Hermione Granger would settle for anything less than an intellectual equal. He was certain it was why she and that ginger oaf didn't last.

Curious, he asked, "How far along are you?

Her moment of fury dissolved when she realized the can of worms she'd opened for herself. She swallowed and averted her eyes. "Five Months."

Draco paled considerably. Five months. Five months ago he'd woken up next to the witch in a hotel room naked and very clearly post-shag.

Five months.

Without a word, he grabbed her arm and ushered her into a private corner. "Why the bloody hell didn't you tell me," he growled.

Her eyes shot up to him in a fierce glare, anger quickly boiling her blood again as she was forced to remember that morning.

"And bring this on myself," she countered heatedly. "No, thank you. You don't have to be involved. No one has to ever know you had any part in creating a halfblood."

She hissed the last word, feeling certain that the thought would provoke his ire. His parents would hate her if they found out. Possibly even demand she rid herself of the child so as not to tarnish the Malfoy line should the public ever find out.

"You made it quite clear the morning after how much you detest me. I admit that maybe you have the right to know but how could you expect me to tell you something you'd clearly not be interested in being a part of. Pardon me for not subjecting myself to more of your abuse."

Draco's arms fell limp at his side. She was pregnant. With his child. He was going to be a father and she had never intended to tell him.

Merlin knew he'd likely be terrible at parenting but he knew he was expected to marry and continue to Malfoy line someday. Just never anticipated it happening like this.

"You don't know that."

"What?"

"You don't know that I don't want to be involved."

"Do be serious," she chastised. "You told me how unattractive and repulsive you find me, Malfoy. I get it. It was a drunken, stupid mistake on both our parts. One I'll be paying for the rest of my life. How do you think I'll feel looking at my child and knowing their father can't stand me, and possibly by extension, them? It's bloody mortifying." She sighed dejectedly, quickly losing her steam. "So you just…keep on with your life and I'll keep on with mine. Now you know."

Draco felt numb as he watched her storm away from him. He watched as she gathered Potter's wife, the redhead directing a fiery glare his direction over her shoulder as the two women left the shop.

Merlin, had he known this would be the outcome he'd have never said any of those horrible things to her.

"Shit," he muttered to himself.

He knew what he had to do but didn't think she'd like it one bit.

Telling his parents went over about as well as could be expected. His father shouted foul things about muggle-borns to which he'd threatened to hex him should he use the 'M' word about the mother of his unborn child one more time.

His mother took a softer approach. Disappointed in him, she shook her head and asked what he planned to do about the situation.

That prompted his father to suggest an orphanage.

The looks of pure contempt both he and his mother had given him were enough to shut the aging wizard up entirely.

"I don't like this, Draco," Narcissa had insisted, sitting as primly as possible that he couldn't help but compare the differences between Hermione Granger and himself.

She'd likely raise the child with a mix of wizarding and muggle traditions. She wouldn't stop her child from playing or enjoying being a child. The kid would likely be a bloody genius as well if they took after her.

If the child looked even the slightest like him, people would know. If the child inherited his hair. They'd know. The poor kid would be the product of the best and worst of the magical world. A halfblood child of a former Death Eater. Voldemort himself would have choked.

But Draco wasn't focused on blood. He was going to be a father. How could he do that with the piss-poor example he'd grown up with?

However, he'd sighed and accepted his fate like a man. A far cry from the sniveling brat from Hogwarts.

A week later he showed up at her office. To say her secretary was confused would be an understatement but she'd allowed him in. Thankfully, her two annoying friends were apparently off on an auror assignment and not there to hex him and he was certain they would if they knew he was the father. And how could they not? She didn't keep anything from them.

Hermione's blood ran cold when he entered her office and took it upon himself to take a seat in the chair across from her desk.

"What are you doing here," she sighed. "I thought I made it clear that we'll go our separate ways. You don't need to concern yourself with this."

Draco glowered at her for that comment. "I'm the bleeding father, Granger."

"Don't remind me," she muttered with an eye roll.

He huffed and reached into his waistcoat pocket and produced a small box. "I'm here to take responsibility and do the right thing."

Hermione stared at the small box sitting on her desk with trepidation. Surely not. Bloody highly unlikely. Not in this God forsaken world.

"Marry me, Granger. Allow me to do the right thing."

She laughed. She couldn't stop the guffaw that escaped her and pressed a hand to her mouth as she lifted her gaze to him again. He was frowning now.

"Malfoy…Draco, this is ridiculous. I'm not marrying you. The fact that you're even sitting there asking makes me think you've gone barmy."

He straightened his spine. "Malfoys do not have children out of wedlock."

"Oh please," she groaned. "And you think I'd choose to have a child out of wedlock either? No, but that's what's happening. Take your likely tainted ring and vacate my office. Discussion over."

Draco stood stiffly and stepped away from her desk, the box remaining where it was. "If you change your mind, owl me. I won't ask again."

She shooed him with her hands, "Leave me alone, Draco. This was over before it ever began."

She watched him turn on heel rigidly and slam her door behind him.

The box on the edge of her desk taunted her for the next hour. She couldn't get back to work, couldn't concentrate at all with it sitting there.

Had that really just happened? Was his family pride quite so rigid that he'd insist on marrying a woman he hated just so as not to have a 'bastard' child?

When she finally willed herself to look at the ring, she gasped. Hand to her heart and tears in her eyes, she studied the large solitaire diamond set in a platinum band. It was beautiful and quite perfect. But it wasn't for her. It was a wretched symbol of archaic pride. She tossed it into the bottom drawer of her desk and willed herself to forget it.