Well, after much debate, I have decided that I will do a sequel to Hermione's Baby (Haha, I just realized that I never said why I named it that. I mean, the obvious of course, but it was also sort of after Rosemary's Baby, get it? Heehee. Well, I thought it was funny). Anyway, this story will take place a little while after the last one left off. Hermione and Draco are married and together with Dante and Melantha they live at Malfoy Manor. The concept of the story will deal with Voldemort and the fact that he still has his eye on Draco and Melantha's betrayal. But it will also deal with Draco and Melantha's relationship as mother and son, because they never truly came to terms with that in the previous story. Hmm, I think I did a pretty good job giving an overview. If I think of anything else I'll post an Author's Note at the end of a chapter or something.

I hope everyone enjoys this story as much as the other one! (P.S. Dante was born on March 8th, my birthday! Heehee! I just thought I'd add that little fact).

Oh, and one more thing :P THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed my last story. Every time I read a review I was so happy. I love getting them and especially when people tell me how much they like my story or what a good author I am. You've really given me a big head :) So thanks :D

Chapter 1: Nightmares

Draco Malfoy cursed under his breath and climbed out of bed, making sure not to disturb the sleeping form beside him. His wife stirred but did not wake and he sighed with relief before slipping into the master bathroom. Once behind a closed door, he turned on the tap and splashed icy water on his face, then sat on the edge of the tub, his mind stretched.

Ten minutes later there was a soft knock at the door.

"Yeah?" he called, not bothering to stand. His wife opened the door, her hand resting on her not-yet-swollen belly as she entered. She was only a month and a half along, but this being their second child she instinctively held herself that way.

"You've been in here a while," she said, handing him a towel because he had neglected to dry his face. "Is everything—"

"I'm fine," he grunted into the towel.

"If you just went to Dumbledore he could—"

"He has better things to do than prattle over some stupid dreams, Hermione." He was growing angry at her prying. He had thought—or hoped, rather—that in the event of knowing the truth of their past his memory-dreams would stop. He was dreadfully wrong, however, for they seemed to bombard him tenfold, sometimes playing the same dream night after night for a week straight. And, even if there was some amount of happiness in the memory, the bulk of the dream was horrid and always ended with him jolting awake, his eyes darting over the room to ensure he was back in reality. "The Order needs him. The school needs him."

"Then go to St. M—"

"Hermione!"

At his tone she went silent. It wasn't often that he could reach his aims through conflict with his wife, but tonight was one of those rare times. She saw in his eyes that he truly did not wish to continue the conversation and decided to leave things as they were. It pained her to see her husband in such pain, having to relive the memories night after night, but without his cooperation there was little to be done. She theorized that, because he had fired the memory charm that long ago night when she, Draco, and one of her best friends Ron had lost their memories, he alone must have the dreams. And even though she had regained her full memory, she was not haunted the way Draco was. Ron too was immune to the dreams and had never regained so much as a minute of his memory. Hermione had, of course, told all that she could—and thought she should—of their past, leaving out certain details that she felt would only serve to hurt him.

"What was it this time?" she inquired after a long, frosty silence. She knew all of her own past, but when it came to Draco's memory-dreams they held information that she could never know unless she was to ask. That, and she thought that by discussing these things with him it would help him to better handle it. Not that he outwardly showed any signs of distress, but, then again, he was never a wear's-his-heart-on-his-sleeve type of guy.

"Same," he murmured, rubbing his eyes to release the tired haze. Even though it was only five o'clock in the morning he wouldn't go back to bed. He was already far too awake and shuddered by the dream to go back to that world. "I'll be in my study," he said sourly as he stood. Hermione was thankful when he stopped briefly to kiss her before he left, for usually he was so sullen when he awoke that even her presence annoyed him and he'd skirt away without a word.

He walked morosely to his study down the hall, taking his time and allowing the memory to clear itself away before he plunged into his work. Like his wife, he was an Auror-in-training. In two and a half years he would take his Auror's exam and hopefully be able to aid the Order of the Phoenix better. As it was he was entrusted with little. And though he was told it was because of his lack of experience, young age, and responsibilities as a husband and father, he knew deep down it was because of his father and would-be mother, and the tactlessness he displayed during his years at Hogwarts. He was a changed man, a family man, but no one could truly forget the stigma his family name carried.

It was well into the morning, around eight o'clock, when he was interrupted by a heavy knock at the door.

"Yes Melantha?" he sighed, knowing her knock. He really was in no mood to deal with her. After she revealed she was his real mother, and not his hateful aunt, in his seventh year at school she had been adamant about mending bridges and acting out the part of mother and son. He was less than enthusiastic about it.

"You can try calling me mother," she said tartly as the door swung open, his six-month-old son Dante perched gleefully on her hip. He wondered absently, for the hundredth time, when she would move out and find her own place. Not that room was a problem, but even in the vastness of the Manor she still managed to find him to harass him.

"And you can try not bothering me every five minutes," he shot back.

Melantha frowned and set Dante on the edge of his desk, holding him safely by the shoulders.

"Breakfast is ready."

"I'm not hungry."

"You're eating if I have to have a house elf shove food down your throat. I won't have you starve just because you can't stand being in the same room as me." Hurt was clearly evident in her voice.

"Glad to know that you know the reason for it," he said menacingly, his brow narrowed and his lip curled into a sneer. "But I am far from starving. I'll eat when I will. Now leave me alone."

"Drac—"

"I'm busy, mother," he stressed, waving at the stack of papers and volumes of books on his desk. "Aren't there better things for you to do than irritate me?"

She sighed, defeated, and collected Dante into her arms. He reached his chubby little arms out to his father, who contemplated keeping him there. With a flick of his wand, that had been sitting on his desk, a playpen appeared, laden with toys. Melantha set her grandson in it and marched out of the room in an angry huff. Draco chuckled under his breath, knowing that she was going straight to Hermione to berate her about her "unbelievable" husband.

Harry and Ron came rushing into the room, their faces streaked with dirt and sweat. Ginny hissed irritably, much resembling her mother, and snapped at them to wash up before dinner.

"You sound just like mum," Ron muttered, frowning.

"Unlike you, Ronald, I have a job! I work all day and then you and Harry come traipsing in here and make an even bigger mess of our depressing little house." Ron opened his mouth to protest, to say that he and Harry were doing important things in training to be Aurors, but she hissed on as if not seeing his attempt. "Who pays the rent? And for food? And everything else? Lavender and I. Now go clean up before my wand finds a new home in your—"

"Ginny, sweety," Harry cut in carefully, not wishing to anger her further. She seemed rather more on edge lately than usual. "We're sorry, it's just—"

"It's fine," she sighed, then stuffed her wand stubbornly back into her pocket. She was clearly overworked, but Harry sensed some deeper trouble within her. Ron gave him a hidden smile, thanking him for calming his unruly sister, then sped out of the room to clean up, though he would most likely make a detour to find Lavender first. Harry was just about to leave as well, when Ginny caught his arm and pulled him back, her face solemn.

"Gin?" he asked, a little scared at her now quiet and standoffish behavior. It was never a good sign when she went so quickly from raging to mute. "What's wrong?"

"I—" she began, but then burst into tears, startling and terrifying him immediately. Ginny had always been such a strong and independent girl, much of the reason Harry had been so attracted to her. This sudden displace of "weak" emotions sat like an anvil in his stomach. Did something drastic happen while he and Ron were away at training?

"Ginny, tell me," he all but pleaded, pulling her to him, all his concentration on keeping his voice calm so to calm her. "What's happened?"

"I'm so scared, Harry," she whispered, confirming his fears. Ginny was never scared. After being possessed by Voldemort in her first year and nearly dying, there wasn't much else for her to fear.

"Of what?"

She hesitated for such a long time that Harry wondered if she'd heard him.

"Harry," she said, not meeting his eyes. "I'm pregnant."

A wave of relief so powerful washed over him that he scarcely remembered being scared a moment before. It wasn't until he saw her tear stained cheeks that his glee sobered and he held his girlfriend back at arm's length. Surely she should be happy at this news. They had been talking about marriage and children and going off to leave together without Ron and Lavender. They were eager to start their lives together, to be a real family and let Ron and Lavender, who had been engaged for several months now, start theirs as well.

"What's wrong with that?" he asked, smiling in an effort to see her smile. She didn't respond happily, however, and sniffled in a sob.

"It's your baby, Harry!" she squeaked as if it were news to him. Well of course it was his! "Who would Voldemort want just as much as you? Your child!" She was now in such hysterics that Harry feared Ron or Lavender would come bursting into the room and add to the already blown-out-of-proportions atmosphere.

"But I thought you wanted children," he said with a frown.

"I do," she sighed and wiped her eyes. They heard footsteps approaching and she quickly added, "We'll talk about this later," then Disapparated with a pop, no doubt to avoid her Ron and future sister-in-law.

"Where's Ginny?" Ron asked, having heard her leave. Lavender stood clutching his arm, her eyes full of concern as well. It had been a hard thing for Harry to decide to live with Ron and her, for he felt somehow like he was betraying Hermione in some way. Though, after a few discussions with her, he felt more at ease and ready to give Lavender a shot. He found that he was not disappointed, for over time she had out-grown her giggling girlishness and showed signs of definite potential.

"She's not feeling well," Harry said quickly, not really lying. "She's probably gone to take some potion."

At this Ron smiled a little and made for the kitchen counter, where Ginny and Lavender had made a simple dinner in their haste after work. It wasn't always so "traditional" in their house, for many nights it was the boys who came home early and cooked, and sometimes no one came home until well into the night and had eaten at work or training.

Harry decided it was best not to tell Ron their good news, for Ginny was not exactly in the right frame of mind. He had to convince her that it wasn't a bad thing that she was pregnant, for nothing in the world could keep him from protecting his own child from Voldemort's filthy hands. Soon enough Ginny would want the others to know and then, at a dinner at the Weasley's, they would announce her pregnancy. Mrs. Weasley would undoubtedly cry, half in joy and half apprehension at the fact that she and Harry were not married yet. Though he doubted it would be much of a problem, for she looked at Harry like family already.

With a smile, secret smile Harry dished up a plate for himself and one for Ginny.

A father, he mused, the prospect of it sinking in. He was both excited and scared, as well he should be. For Ginny was right, his family didn't exactly have a reputation of good fortune. I'm going to be a father.

"How wretched," Draco laughed, when Hermione returned from The Burrow with news that Harry and Ginny were expecting a child. There was nothing of a wedding in the air yet, but she assumed that with Mrs. Weasley would be hot on their heels with heaps of parchments in her arms, the plans of their ceremony drawn out.

"Stop it," Hermione warned, not raising her voice because he held Dante in his arms. She never showed anything but happy kindness around her son, something she hoped her husband and mother-in-law would aspire to. "In times like these there is no reasons you shouldn't be just as concerned by this news as I am."

He gave his wife a blank look.

"Concerned?"

"Yes, concerned. Harry's son or daughter will be in just as much danger as himself."

Draco's eyes widened slightly, for the idea hadn't even crossed his mind. He had nearly forgotten that Harry was The Boy Who Lived, for the threat had turned to him and his family.

"I hardly see a reason for them to worry," he said stubbornly. Hermione sighed and lifted her son from his arms.

"And why not?"

"Because Voldemort has all but cast the Dark Mark over the Manor. I think you and I have a little more to worry about than Potter and his Children of the Boy Who Lived."

"You are heartless," she spat, careful at her tone. Dante frowned and reached for his father. Reluctantly Hermione obliged.

Draco seemed horrified at her words. He set Dante in his playpen, then grabbed her arm and pulled her into the hall, closing the door behind them.

"Are you telling me that our son, our family, is worth less than Potter?"

"Certainly not! But I have a right to be worried about my best friend and his family, just as much as I worry about my own. If you had friends you'd understand." It was a low blow and the instant it left her lips she regretted it. Draco, however, took the insult with grace. He kissed Hermione softly, lovingly, on the forehead, then disappeared around the corner.

It wasn't until the following evening that Hermione saw her husband again—for he had come to bed well after she fell asleep and awoke before she did—and in the company of his mother no less. But they were not bickering and tearing at each other's hair as usual. She almost didn't want to approach them for fear they would erupt at her presence; Melantha had turned a cold shoulder to Hermione, presumably for her slight to her son. She didn't fight it; she knew he had a right to be angry and his mother had a right as well. Though she shuddered to think of them coming together only to smite her.

"Hey," she said, taking a seat on the sofa opposite them and Dante.

"Hermione," Melantha said, her eyes on her grandson.

Draco didn't look up. But, to her surprise, he didn't appear angry. Some other emotion was stirring within him and she felt a pang of guilt at jumping to conclusions about what he weighed as useful of thought. He had better things to mull over than his wife's sharp tongue, especially when she knew that he knew she didn't mean what she said. And it was then that she noticed that Melantha was not sullen either, but possessed of the same demeanor as Draco.

Dante was blissfully unaware of any disturbance in the air and played merrily with his wooden dragons.

"We need to talk," Draco said, finally turning his eyes on her. She was noticeably taken aback.

"Draco?" As if by command he came to her side, holding her close as though to console her. She was too overcome to respond with anything but surprise.

"There's a reason I reacted the way I did with you yesterday," he began. Melantha was now looking at them, her face arranged so not to cause alarm, though that's what immediately happened in Hermione's heart. Something was definitely wrong. "I'm just going to say this, there's no sense in carrying it out." He sighed deeply, then kissed her cheek before verifying her worst reservations. "The Order gave Melantha news three days ago that Voldemort is headed in our direction. All inside information points him here." Hermione let out a woeful gasp and struggled to reach her son. Draco held her firmly in place. "He's not after Dante," he assured her, and she believed him completely.

"Then—"

"He's after you."

Ahhh! Why can't they just have normal, happy lives? Well, heehee, because I'm evil and torture them, that's why. I hope everyone liked this first chapter. I know it was fast, but my boyfriend is out of town for 2 weeks and I have little else to do, other than my job and aerobics. I'm a loser, I know :P

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