Title: Better than Veasley

Rating: R (mild)

Summary: Sometimes, what we want and what we get are two totally different things.

Author's Note: For http://carinthea.livejournal.com

1. This story isn't normally what I write. This is a bit more angst and drama than my normal fluffy bunny stuff

2. This ISN'T a Christmas story

*         *        *

Hermione looked around at her crowded living room, friends scattered about the place. Harry seemed content to talk Remus' ear off, while Ginny was busy laughing at some horrible joke Charlie was telling. From her seat on the couch, Hermione gave a sigh and noticed Ron glancing at her, winking when he knew she was looking at him.

It was a future Hermione had never imagined for herself, married to not just any Weasley, but Ron, and not only married, but pregnant too. Hermione's heart warmed when Viktor gave her a small smile from his position on the wall, talking to Fred and George.

“Here,” Harry handed Hermione a glass of champagne as she stood up.

“Actually,” Hermione replied quickly, “I'm going to go lay down,” Hermione smiled at Harry, “to get some of my energy back for the rest of the night.”

“Alright, I'll wake you up at,” Harry looked at his wristwatch, “11:00,” he kissed Hermione on top of her head.

Hermione trotted softly up the stairs, down the hall way, and around the corner to her shared bedroom with Ron. She yawned and stretched out on the bed.

“Vhere is restroom,” Viktor ask Ron, who's speech was already slurred at eight o'clock.

Ron pointed up the stair case, “very last door on the right.”

“Thank you,” Viktor replied.

Hermione had barely gotten comfortable when she heard the door open and close softly, “Ron, I don't feel good,” she said, not even bothering to turn over to face the door.

“Am not Veasley,” Viktor's voice shook Hermione.

“Viktor!”

“How far along are you,” Viktor questioned, sitting on the edge of the bed, placing his hand on Hermione's swelled stomach.

“A few months,” she replied meekly, knowing what direction Viktor was heading in.

“Is it boy or girl,” his voice cracked.

“It's too soon to tell,” Hermione answered, sitting up.

“Stupid Potter,” Viktor brushed her cheek, “should not offer you alcohol.”

“Viktor, Harry is half sloshed. He didn't mean anything by it,” Hermione's hand laid on top of Viktor's.

“Could hurt baby,” Viktor looked down at their adjoining hands, “could hurt you.”

Viktor always offered a type of kindness and gentleness that Ron had been able to give her in a little over a year of marriage. Perhaps that's why the affair between Viktor and Hermione had started, out of a need neither was having fulfilled.

Hermione placed her small delicate hand next to Viktor's unshaved cheek. She wished Ron would let his face get some stubble. The chocolate brown of Viktor's eyes caused Hermione to blush a furious shade of red. Timidly, she leaned in, placing her lips gently against Viktor's.

“Do not do anything you vill regret,” Viktor warned her.

She acknowledged the weight of his words and resumed her chaste kiss. His hands left her stomach and ventured up to support her head as he laid her gently against the fluffy down pillows.

“Does Veasley loff you like I do,” Viktor ask between kisses as he unbuttoned Hermione's blue shirt, pushing the material aside to expose her breasts and stomach. Viktor slide her bra straps down as he kissed and nibbled at her shoulders.

“Does Veasley make you feel like I do,” Viktor questioned as he reach unhooked her bra and dropped it to the floor.

“Viktor,” Hermione answered, “this isn't about Ron.”

“Is about you,” Viktor kissed her stomach, “is about baby,” he continued, slipping his hands up Hermione's khaki skirt, “is about our family.”

Viktor kissed Hermione deeply, his hands rubbing her tender breast, almost massaging them. “Vhat do I haff to do,” Viktor questioned as a tear fell from his eye, “vhat do I haff to do to haff my family?”

Tears began to fall from Hermione's eyes, “Viktor, I don't know that this baby is yours,” she answered, pulling together her shirt to cover her exposed breast.

“Not care if baby not mine. I vill be better father than Veasley,” he pleaded, “I vill do anything to prove it to you,” Viktor begged.

“Viktor, I can't leave Ron.”

“Vhy not,” he began to grow angry.

“Because I'm his wife,” her voice started to shake.

“But you should be my vife. You should be in my bedroom. I should haff your heart, not Veasley,” Viktor left the room, leaving the door wide open.

As Hermione got up to close the door, she couldn't help but wish the child in her stomach had coal, jet black hair, a fondness for quidditch, and a slightly hooked nose.