Okay um this chapter is going to be a little more serious then the previous chapters, but not that serious. XD I must warn you, this is a B-I-G chapter. A very BIG one. 
By the way, Thanks for all the reviews! Well I guess that chapter wasn’t that bad. And some of you will probably guess what is going to happen in this chapter. Hope you don’t mind....
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Chapter 4: The Beginning
That dinner was the start of many among Draco and Blaise. The next four months went by with two dinners a week with them, and she found herself getting used to their otherwise tedious company. Sometimes they joked among themselves, otherwise told eachother about the newest book they had read. But they never talked about anything going on outside the walls of the Malfoy Manor, and this greatly annoyed Hermione. She hadn't been able to get away from this place, nor to have her wand; all she had was her baby.
She was now nine months pregnant and she felt very heavy and tired. She couldn't take the glorious walks nearly as often now, as she quickly felt exhausted.
It was actually at a dinner that the whole thing began. Draco had invited her down to dine with him and Blaise, and, as usual, she had accepted. They were sipping white wine - all except Hermione, who was sipping water - and eating salmon. Draco hadn't felt as happy before. It was as if another piece of a puzzle had fallen in to place, despite Hermione's pregnancy. Here she was, sitting by his side, quietly eating salmon and participating in their conversation. True, she was slightly cold, but she would grow past that.
He looked at her stomach. The birth was not far now. He wondered how he would feel when the little Weasley finally emmerged into the world, wondered what he would do. He had been looking up suitable adoption homes, and had found one sufficiently far away.
He was just asking Hermione if she thought the salmon tasted good, when she suddenly grabbed hold of her stomach and let out a massive moan. He stared at her, horrified, and she gritted her teeth.
'It's coming, Malfoy,' she said, 'the baby.'
Draco at once stood up, cutlery flying everywhere, and grabbed Hermione. Lifting her in his arms, he shouted at Blaise to get Healer Twine and ran to Hermione's bedroom, leaving the house elves in a state of wonder.
Draco was walking outside the room, frantically listening to Hermione’s screams. Several times, he grasped the doorknob; only Blaise prevented him from running in to help a distressed Hermione in labor. Draco could almost feel the way his heart clenched every time he heard Hermione cry out with pain.
Blaise settled for a bottle of Firewhiskey and a game of solitaire. Draco sat outside Hermione’s room, nervously running his fingers through his hair and wondering what the little baby would look like. He scowled. As long as it didn’t have red hair.
Finally, at dawn, he heard the sound of little screams and he waited impatiently by the door. It opened silently, and Healer Twine came out, looking exhausted but pleased. He was carrying a little baby.
‘It’s a girl,’ he sighed, giving the bundle of sheets to Draco. Draco took it hesitantly, bemused, and looked at the baby.
She was a wrinkled, red little baby, but Draco loved her at first sight. He couldn’t say exactly why; by rights, he should hate this little Weasley. But she seemed so fragile, yet so powerful, and a fatherly instinct instantly overtook him. Looking delighted, he walked into the room, where a female Healer was sitting by a sleeping Hermione.
Draco motioned her to go out, and she obeyed, standing up and leaving the room. Taking her seat, Draco cradled the little girl in his arms, waiting for her mother to wake up.
Hermione opened her eyes a few minutes later, to a sight that both terrified and puzzled her. Draco: he was sitting next to her, looking at her little baby with a loving expression. But Hermione didn’t have enough time to feel puzzled; instantly, a protective joy overtook her, and she whispered in a soft voice to Draco:
‘Is that my baby?’
Draco looked up, smiled and nodded. Hermione, completely forgetting to be hateful towards Draco, took a deep breath and looked at her little girl. A sort of leaping feeling had rised in her stomach, and she blinked the tears in her eyes away.
‘She’s so beautiful,’ she whispered, reaching out towards her. ‘Give her to me, Draco.’
Draco looked up, surprised; it was the first time Hermione had called him by his first name. Smiling, he gently laid the girl into her arms, and his heart starting beating as he felt an unexplainable peace and warmth. It was a terrific sensation to see his beloved and her child together. Sitting down again, he surveyed them, noticing how happy Hermione seemed for the first time in the Malfoy Manor. She was rocking her baby back and forth, unable to take her eyes off her daughter. She kept touching the baby’s face or hands or tiny feet, laughing and whispering.
Draco couldn’t get enough of this sight.
The first week after Hermione’s birth passed by very quickly. Hermione was so happy that it almost seemed unnatural; she had forgotten about everything around her. This didn’t bother Draco in the least, as she for once didn’t snap at or avoid him. She even allowed him to enter her room, proudly showing off her little baby. Draco’s heart always swelled with happiness when she did this, though every time he gave her compliments or praised her, she grew distant or cool. He didn’t mind though. He was convinced that with time, she would grow fond of him.
Draco even liked Hermione’s baby, something he never imagined being able to do. He found his heart softened every time he looked into those brown eyes that resembled Hermione’s so much. He even took her out for strolls when Hermione was asleep; Healer Twine had recommended that Hermione take a nap a day, as she had not recovered properly yet.
Draco would have taken delight in visiting Hermione whenever the baby had to be fed, but Hermione forbade this. She was disgusted at the thought of him watching her breastfeed her baby. Instead, he dropped by after the meals, where a weak Hermione would hesitantly allow him to take the baby to her crib.
On one of these special afternoons, Draco had just taken the little girl from Hermione’s arms, when he turned around, smiling at the baby.
‘Have you decided what to name her yet?’ he asked, lovingly playing with the baby’s tiny fingers.
Hermione nodded, her eyes twinkling with delight as she watched her daughter move her fingers in delight. Draco smiled warmly at her, rocking the child back and forth.
‘Well?’
Hermione looked up, remembering to keep a distance from Draco.
‘Fauve,’ she said, frowning and hurriedly fixing her eyes back on the little girl; she had almost been nice to Draco.
Draco wrinkled his forehead, his brow furrowed.
‘Fauve?’ he repeated, a sneer apparent on his face. ‘You can’t possibly mean that, Hermione.’
‘Why not?’ snapped Hermione back, getting out of bed and reaching for her dressing gown. She was clearly irritated and slightly puzzled.
Draco laughed at Hermione’s bad temper.
‘It just doesn’t fit with her; she isn’t wild, uncanny. She’s a dignified little creature,’ said Draco fondly. ‘You should call her Verity or Theodora... Not Fauve.’
Hermione drew herself up proudly.
‘It’s what Ron and I decided upon,’ she said, slipping inside the dressing gown.
Draco’s eyes immediately narrowed; these few words could put him in a very foul temper. Even dead, Ron could be alive!
Hermione, obviously aware of his irritation, reached out for her daughter and took her from Draco’s arms. Putting Fauve in her crib, she kissed her little hands. Then she straightened up, crossing her arms, her eyes almost challenging Draco.
Draco looked at her again, taking in her beauty. Somehow, she was much more beautiful after she had turned mother than when he had first taken her to Malfoy Manor. He didn’t quite know why. Even after childbirth, she looked quite slim; she was wearing the green dressing gown Draco had bought her and her hair was neatly combed into an elegant bun. He bit back his bitter thoughts about Ron; Ron was dead, and Hermione was with him, Draco.
Smiling, he walked to her, taking her hand. She glared at him coldly, but did not resist. He kissed her hand gently and forced himself to say, ‘Fauve is a beautiful name.’
As Hermione gradually, but surely recovered from the birth, she started taking long walks outside again. She took Fauve with her most of the time, but Hermione was still physically tired and Fauve could seem heavy. Hermione didn’t see any point of walking about without her little daughter, so she decided to ask Draco to help her. She despised doing it, but she had come to rely on him for almost everything, though she wouldn’t admit it.
So one sunny afternoon, she saw to it that Fauve was being taken care of by the newly hired nurse. She put on a red dress that she knew Draco liked and tied back her hair. She stared defiantly at herself in the mirror, suddenly disgusted; it seemed wrong. She bit back her bitter thoughts though, and wandered outside the corridor, wondering where Draco could be.
She met Blaise on the way, who stared at her with his eyebrows raised, apparently surprised. He was wearing a white shirt and a pair of beige trousers. His black hair wasn’t tied back, and it hit Hermione that he was actually rather goodlooking. He gave an appreciative sneer, showing that he liked her choice of garments. Hermione chose to ignore this and held her head high.
‘Where’s Malfoy?’ she asked, trying to sound cool.
Blaise raised his eyebrows even higher, smirking even more.
‘He was Draco before,’ Blaise said, causing Hermione to shift uncomfortably.
‘Well?’ Hermione asked again, annoyed.
‘He’s in his study, mademoiselle,’ said Blaise, giving a mock bow and grinning. ‘I wouldn’t disturb him though. He likes to get his work done.’
Hermione shifted restlessly again, then Blaise strode by her without a word. He made her puzzled, confused - she didn’t understand him nor would she ever.
She went up the stairs to Draco’s study, wondering if she dared enter. She couldn’t hear much going on inside, and, remembering that she was a Granger, she grasped the doorknob and entered.
It was a very majestic office. It was large and grand and had all the luxuries one would expect. The furniture was made of mahogany, the walls were a rich green and the floor looked somewhat like marble. At the far end of the office was a very large window which overlooked the gardens; turned towards the window was an even larger desk, with mountains of papers stacked on top. To the right of the door was a green couch, looking quite comfortable, and a fireplace. Placed by the fireplace was an armchair, and in that armchair sat Draco. He was talking to someone in the fire, but blocking the view from Hermione.
Hermione coughed nervously and decided to leave, when Draco suddenly said, surprised, ‘Hermione! What are you doing here?’
She turned around and saw Draco looking at her, clearly surprised but still pleased.
‘I didn’t want to disturb,’ said Hermione, almost mumbling, ‘I’ll just leave...’
‘No, please don’t!’ said Draco, standing up at once. ‘You aren’t disturbing me.’ He cast a quick look towards the fireplace and muttered a few words. Apparently, the person in the fire vanished, for Hermione heard the little pop.
‘Come sit down,’ said Draco, looking really delighted now. ‘Do you want anything? A glass of whiskey? Water? Tea?’
Hermione shook her head, frowning. She took a place on the couch and Draco sat down next to her, much to her displeasure. He was smiling.
‘You’ve never come to see me before,’ he said. ‘I’m so glad you did.’ He looked her up and down. ‘And you’re up - you’re dressed. I approve.’ He laughed.
Hermione coughed, her eyes narrowed, edging slightly away from him. He sighed.
‘If I came here, it was to ask you something,’ she snarled, ‘not to play silly, flirtatious games. And I certainly didn’t wear this to please you,’ she added, lying. She closed her eyes, gathering herself.
Draco raised his eyebrows.
‘What did you want to ask me?’ he said.
‘I wanted to ask you if you could buy me a perambulator,’ she said, in a rush. She heaved a breath. It had been difficult to say.
‘A perambulator?’ repeated Draco, surprised. ‘A pram?’
‘Yes,’ answered Hermione, grinding her teeth. ‘Yes, a pram.’
‘What d’you need a pram for?’ Draco asked, eyebrows raised.
Hermione heaved another sigh of impatience.
‘Fauve is getting heavy, and I’m... I’m rather tired. I can’t carry her around all the time, but I want to - to walk in the gardens.’ She fixed him with a stare. ‘I don’t want to be locked up all the time. If I could just have a pram, then Fauve could be wheeled around and I’d be able to go outside, I... Please.’
Draco looked slightly taken aback; he gazed at Hermione who were looking at her hands. He could almost sense the conflict that was taking place inside her: having to ask her enemy for something. But it please him, he was sure that this was a sign of her finally coming along. He smiled and put his hand on hers. She shifted restlessly and inwardly became distant, but did not move her hand until she was sure she had got what she wanted.
‘Hermione, you shall have everything you want.’ He squeezed her hand when she didn’t look up. ‘I’ll get someone to deliver the pram this afternoon. And Fauve shall also have a new wardrobe and a parasol and anything she desires.’ He smiled at her. ‘I can buy you anything you want, Hermione.’ He paused. ‘That is something Weasley could never do.’
Hermione stood up instantly and slapped him, her cheeks red with anger.
‘Ron didn’t need to buy my affection!’ she yelled. ‘And I didn’t need all those things you bought me! Ron and I lived on love, not on money.’
Draco rubbed his cheek, scowling. He had been afraid it would end like this. He was just about to yell that Ron could go to hell, when he remembered that he had to be gentle with her. He had to give her time. She turned around, glaring at the wall. There was a large painting of an older Draco, staring coldly at his surroundings. She took Draco’s glass of brandy and threw it at the painting; it stained the canvas horribly. She started shaking with anger, fear and confusion.
Draco stood up and hesitantly put his arms around Hermione. She protested, as he had expected, but he was firm. Turning her around, he touched her chin, and she shivered.
‘I won’t have you yelling and exhausting yourself,’ he said, trying not to scowl. ‘Healer Twine said you needed rest.’
She pulled herself away from him.
‘How am I to get any rest in this place?’ she yelled, trying, but failing, to prevent the tears from falling. ‘You’ve taken everything I love away from me - I don’t even have my wand, Malfoy! I don’t have any friends, any life, any...’ She shook her head and took deep, steadying breaths.
‘You have me,’ attempted Draco, but she flared up again.
‘You? You! You caused this misery! You caused everything, just because you -‘ she scowled. ‘It doesn’t even matter.’
They stood in silence for a while, Draco restlessly shifting from foot to foot. Hermione looked drained and anxious, and he was worried; it was against the Healer’s orders.
‘Come on,’ said Draco, taking Hermione’s arm. ‘I’ll bring you back to your room. The pram will be delivered this afternoon.’
Hermione woke up the next morning feeling exhausted. She opened her eyes and wondered if she’d have to eat breakfast with Draco, as she had been up the other day. After Fauve’s birth, Draco had allowed Hermione to have her meals in her room, but now she was not so sure.
She sat up to greet a splendid sight. Everywhere in the room, each spot that had been bare before, now held flowers of a magnificent size and beauty. There were tulips, roses, daisies, narcissas, lilies, hyacinths... They were mainly white and red, and Hermione couldn’t help smiling. She stood up and walked to the little round table where she had eaten her meals, hoping to find breakfast. Instead, she found a very large and pretty pram, a large red bow on top of it. She smiled, taking a grip on the handle and pushing it back and forth. It had clearly been very expensive and there was already new silk green pillows and blankets inside.
She went and put her dressing gown on, looking around and inhaling the scent of the flowers. She walked over to Fauve, wondering if she was asleep, when she stopped, surprised. Surrounded by Fauve’s crib were dozens and dozens of teddy bears, all plumpy and soft. To the right of the crib was a large box, and on it stood, ‘For Fauve and mummy’.
Hermione opened the box and caught sight of hundreds of small and large toys. There was a train and a mirror, a puppet box, twenty small cars, a doll’s house, doll’s clothes... Hermione stood up, bemused. She wandered further down the room, discovering more and more presents. A pink cradle, which played music every time it rocked. A rocking chair, on top of which was a very comfy pillow and a tiny red blanket. She walked to her desk, and saw that on it was perched a magnificent porcelain doll wearing a grand, green and silver frock. There was a little label sticking out of its hand, which read, ‘For Fauve when she gets older’.
Hermione sank down in her armchair. She had only asked for a pram. A simple, nicely built pram. And in return she had got more than she could ever thank for. She shook her head. Why did she suddenly feel dirty? She couldn’t help thinking of Ron, wondering if she had betrayed him. She remembered how they had saved every penny for their small, modest cottage and how Ron had promised to buy a proper pram once he had the money. And now this? Draco was drowning Hermione in riches, and she didn’t know if she liked it.
A knock on the door interrupted her confused thoughts, and she distractedly mumbled, ‘Come in’. The door opened, and a curious Draco entered. He smiled when he saw Hermione’s surprised face, wondering if he had pleased her.
She looked up, wanting to tell him to go away, yet knowing that she shoudn’t.
‘Good morning,’ said Draco, wisely keeping a distance from her.
‘Hello,’ answered Hermione, nervously biting her bottom lip.
‘Do you like it?’ blurted out Draco, without further ado. Hermione closed her eyes, not knowing what to say.
‘I... Thank you,’ she finally whispered. ‘It’s - but I didn’t asked you -‘
‘I know,’ laughed Draco, and sat down on the bed, ‘but I couldn’t help myself. You needed to be spoiled for once, Hermione.’
She scowled, wondering if that was a direct insult to Ron.
‘If you keep insulting the memory of Ron, I’ll - I’ll -’ she paused, wondering what she could threaten him with.
Draco stood up and walked towards Fauve before she could make up her mind. The little girl had started crying, and, before Hermione could protest, Draco had her in his arms.
‘What are you crying for?’ asked Draco gently, smiling. ‘Haven’t you had breakfast?’
He looked up.
‘I’ll send for a bottle - she must be hungry.’
‘Give her here, Malfoy,’ said Hermione commandingly. Draco obeyed for once, raising his eyebrows and handing her over. He surveyed the pair for a moment, noticing how Hermione softened the moment Fauve was in her arms.
‘I have something else for her, you know,’ said Draco, looking forward to what Hermione would say. He reached inside his pocket and took out a necklace full of real pearls.
Hermione spluttered.
‘She won’t be able to wear that till she’s grown up,’ she stammered, as Draco showed it to Fauve. ‘I can’t accept it.’
Draco sighed.
‘Well, it’s not you I’m offering it to, is it? It’s Fauve... It’s my baby girl,’ he cooed, and instantly regretted it.
There was a horribly quiet pause for a moment. Then Hermione put Fauve back in her crib and rang for the house elves.
‘Get out, Malfoy,’ she spat. ‘She’ll never be your baby girl.’
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Chappie 4 finish! Whew….finally done. Sorry if it was a late update, this chapter was a little hard to write...(but I was already in the middle when I posted chapter 3) Read and review!!!!!!! 
Christy 
But that's... no, she can NOT kill Draco. PAMS!!
Sorry about that if you're confused. If so, feel free and ask me all the questions…oh and if you're wondering why Draco wished Hermione's presence at lunch...you'll have to wait for the next chap 
