Forget Me Not (Draco/Hermione)

Chapter Seventeen- Showers

One Month Later

Hermione barely bothered to look up from the television as Daphne walked into the living room.

‘I’m not really feeling up to- Ouch!’ she cried out, as an apple hit her forehead. ‘What was that for?’ She rubbed at her head as Daphne picked up another apple to throw.

‘You’ve been saying that for the last four weeks now. You’ve barely left the sofa and-‘ Daphne took a step towards her and loudly sniffed. ‘Seriously, when was the last time you showered?’

‘Leave me alone.’ Hermione muttered darkly, attempting to bury herself beneath the duvet only for her friend to whip it away. ‘Hey!’ she exclaimed, crossly. ‘Careful. Baby growing here.’

‘My point entirely,’ said Daphne, giving Hermione’s huge belly a quick rub before being swatted away. ‘You are sorely running out of outside time before you pop. If you’d come to the window, you might even see some daffodils.’

‘You over-look a car-park.’

‘Emphasis on the uncertain part of that sentence.’ Daphne leaned over the back of the sofa and began to tug playfully on Hermione’s arm. ‘Come on! The more I see of you moping there, the more I think my sister’s won.’ She pulled a face. ‘You know how that really kills me.’

‘Don’t want to.’ Hermione buried her face into her sofa cushions.

Daphne merely sighed. ‘You push a hard bargain,’ she said, reaching for the telephone that her Muggle landlord had installed for her. ‘HEY, IS THAT DRACO?’ She all but yelled down it. Hermione’s head shot up. ‘YEAH. YEAH. HERMIONE WON’T TAKE HER… ERM- WHAT DO YOU CALL THEM? OH YES, FOLIC ACID SUPPLEMENTS! YEAH. COME OVER NOW!’ She laughed as Hermione sat up, as fast as she could in her state, and snatched the phone from her hands, slamming it back down into the receiver.

‘What are you doing?’ she cried, throwing the phone back onto the messy coffee table. ‘We had an agreement! I- You didn’t call him, did you?’ she added, darkly, as Daphne burst out laughing.

‘Your face,’ she snorted. ‘Seriously, as if I would even know his number!’ She straightened up and placed her hand on her friend’s shoulder. ‘But be fair. You need to start doing stuff again. Sitting inside, in the dark,-‘ She gestured to the curtain-drawn windows. ‘-isn’t good for you. Get up, take a shower, brush your hair and put something nice on. We’re going out.’ Her hand shot up just as Hermione began to complain. ‘No buts, otherwise I’ll send an owl to your baby daddy and get him to come here and lecture you for me.’

Hermione slowly stood up, pushing her limp hair away from her face. ‘Where are we even going?’

‘Does it matter?’ Daphne pinched her nose. ‘Shower now or I’ll get a bucket.’

It took Hermione an age to waddle over to the small bathroom, remove her old pyjamas (‘I’m going to have to burn these,’ Daphne groaned, as she poked her head around the door and grabbed them from the floor with a pair of tongs.) and squeeze herself into the miniscule shower cubicle. At almost thirty three weeks pregnant, she was almost fit to burst; her stomach sticking out in front of her like a warning sign. She had learnt to be careful of falling asleep on the sofa otherwise Daphne would start balancing things on it. Her record so far was nine plates, stacked one on top of each other, before Hermione had jolted awake.

Closing her eyes, Hermione turned the tap on full blast. As the hot water began to rain down over her face and onto her sore body, Hermione felt the baby begin to stir inside of her.

‘Hey, little guy,’ she whispered. It lazily kicked back in reply.

As the water turned grey under her feet, Hermione’s thoughts wandered down an unwelcome route: Draco. A month had passed since she had last seen him. More than that, she realised, a strange ache in her chest. 33 days. At least he had honoured her request, she thought, no owls, no knocks at the door, no appearing without warning. He had given her space. He had given her what she wanted. So why could she find no joy in it?