Ordinary People

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/35467453.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Pansy
Parkinson, Theodore Nott, Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Mr Granger
(Harry Potter), Original Granger Family Characters (Harry Potter),
Original Child Character(s)
Additional Tags: Post-Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Not Canon Compliant -
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Harry Potter Epilogue What
Epilogue | EWE, Drama & Romance, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff,
POV First Person, Fluff and Humor, Gryffindor & Slytherin Inter-House
Friendships, Unplanned Pregnancy, Discussion of Abortion,
Miscommunication, Explicit Sexual Content, Baby Ina didn't research
the way she does now so I don't wanna hear it, Blood and Injury, Theo is
a problem, Sorry Theo Lovers, Background Relationships, Minor Harry
Potter/Ginny Weasley, Minor Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley, Luna is a
goddess, Hermione is a hormonal mess, Good Draco Malfoy, POV
Hermione Granger, Female Friendship, Sassy Pansy Parkinson, Sassy
Ginny Weasley, Draco and Hermione are young idiots, Idiots in Love,
Mutual Pining, not many 21yr olds have their shit together and they do
not, Awkward Draco Malfoy, Love Confessions, Friends With Benefits,
Blood and Violence, Healer Hermione Granger, Hermione is an
intellectual terror and Draco loves her, Touch of OCD Draco Malfoy, Bit
of an asshole really, Prob some OOC-ness but DH didn't happen, repost
from ffn
Language: English
Collections: favs, Dramione Master Pieces, Dramonie_that_destroyed_me,
Dragon_Lilyyy
Stats: Published: 2008-01-09 Words: 126,302 Chapters: 18/18
 Ordinary People
by inadaze22

Summary

"Let me be clear about something tonight, Granger. You're the only woman I've ever wanted.
It's always been you." Draco steps in the fireplace, drops the Floo powder, and disappears in a
burst of green flames.

Notes
See the end of the work for notes

Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: 【授翻】普通人 Ordinary People by Alannal

 One

Chapter One

Part One: The end

June 5th

"That's it! I can't take all this bloody moping anymore!" Ginny spins me around to face her,
bracing both hands on my shoulders. "You were doing so well when we got here, Hermione,
what happened?"

"I don't mope, Ginny, I brood." I dispute adamantly. She judges me contemptuously. "For the
most part," I correct, looking away.

She pulls my eyes back to hers, a determined gleam present in them. "I want you to repeat
after me," Ginny orders, intently looking into my eyes, "My name is Hermione Granger."

Exhaling dramatically, I roll my eyes and whine, "For the love of—"

She clicks her tongue, aggravated, "My name is Hermione Granger," she prompts again

"My name is Hermione Granger." I mumble.

I know full well that wallowing in self-pity like a pampered, ill-tempered child isn't going to
work with my almost-annoyingly headstrong best friend, Ginny Weasley.

"Good, that's a start," Ginny encourages, "Now say, 'I'm the smartest woman alive and men
want me'."

My mouth drops open to protest.

Ginny raises an eyebrow at me.

I clamp my objection and follow instructions. "I'm the smartest witch alive and men want
me."

She smirked. "Now say it all together."

I fold my arms. "My name is Hermione Granger. I'm the smartest witch alive and men want
me."

Ginny nods with conviction and drops her hands. "Now, smile like you mean it." And she
flashes one bright grin of her own.

I smile widely at her. Begrudgingly, I feel a lot better. Tonight isn't going to be horrible and
it's not going to be like pulling teeth. It's going to be fine because I have my incorrigible best
friend here with me. Tonight is an important night for me. It's the last night of my life. No, I
don't mean that literally, but figuratively.

Tonight I'm giving up.

Yes, relentless, obstinate, determined Hermione Granger, patron saint of all underdogs...is a
quitter.

And it's the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

I'm saying goodbye to everything, discarding my old life along with the person I've been for
the last three years. All of it must go in order for me to move on: my job, my apartment, him.
I'm starting over. This is the hardest and the most mature decision I've ever made in my
twenty-one years of life. One that I'm taking it in stride, even though I don't want to-even
though it's hard as hell.

"Are you going to come back in or stare past me for another ten minutes?" Ginny asks,
breaking into the thoughts running rampant in my head, hands on her hips.

She's out to do some serious head-turning tonight for sure because she looks wonderful in her
short, form-fitted black dress robes. She has dangly earrings, heels, and her red hair pinned
up with curled tendrils falling.

"I'll be in there really soon." I offer an assuring smile.

That she doesn't return because she knows me inside and out. "Hermione, I know tonight—I
know this giving up thing is really hard for you, I understand, but you need to have some fun
tonight, dance a little, drink a little, and get your mind off him. You probably won't even see
him tonight. He hates parties-even though he throws them all the time."

I heave a great sigh. "I know, I know." And I take a deep breath because I do know
everything she's talking about. I paste a smile on my face. It doesn't reach my eyes, but that's
all I can muster. "You go on in, I'll be right behind you, okay?"

Ginny smiles as best as she can in return. "All right, but stop thinking about him."

There are at least four million thoughts running around in the crevices of my mind hours after
saying goodbye to my co-workers and employees for the last time at the conclusion of this
goodbye party my boss threw for me-well technically, it's a goodbye/birthday/housewarming
party all in one. How he makes it work, I'll never know.

Everyone is having a wonderful time and it works.

"So," a nameless girl begins her story, interrupting my thoughts again. "Beth dared me to get
my belly button pierced the Muggle way…and I did it."

"Oh, let me see!" some other nameless girl shrieks in a voice that reminds me of nails on a
chalkboard. I wince.
"You can't! Let me tell you what happened. Apparently, I'm allergic to certain metals so
within an hour, the bloody thing swelled up and turned colors. I looked like I had a disease.
My mum took me to a Muggle hospital where they stuck a needle in me with some medicine.
It was ridiculous. I'm never doing anything like that again."

"Wow, that's crazy, Leila."

Pause.

"Has anyone seen Draco Malfoy?"

"Not since they sang happy birthday to him. He blew out the candles, grabbed a piece of
cake, and left. I would love to catch him alone so I can make it a really happy birthday for
him."

They finally drift out of earshot and I can't thank the stars more. The very thought of
someone making this a "really happy birthday" for Draco makes me sick to my—no. I'm not
going to think about him tonight. No, I'm not going to torture myself like that. Oh, who am I
kidding? I think about him all the time. I can't remember a time when I didn't.

Even with the distracting voices, my mind is running a thousand miles a minute with all sorts
of random thoughts.

It starts with the mental note to remind Ginny to leave her key with the landlord, whether I
remembered to clean out the candy wrappers from my bottom desk drawer, whether my last
check was deposited, whether I remembered to give Pansy back her favorite shoes, and it
goes on from there. Did I not remember to leave him my new address like he wanted so he
can't connect to my new flat by floo?

Do I have everything? Will I be a good healer? Will I be okay?

Will I miss him?

How do I look? Did we clean everything well enough? Will I miss my job?

Am I replaceable?

And so it goes on for about fifteen more minutes as I stand in the foyer of his massive newly
built home; the silhouette of the full moon filtering through massive windows, meshing with
my tinier shadow. From my vantage spot at the top of the stairs, I notice a few stragglers
make their way into the house, giggling and handing their purses and gifts to the paid house
elf standing at the door. I watch them walk through the picturesque foyer. A few guests stop
and take in the classic beauty of this room; to me, it looks like heaven.

Magical portraits, classic and very expensive muggle paintings on the walls, stone sculptures,
an enormous gold and crystal chandeliers, shiny white marble floors with gold flecks that
lead to the classic white marble double staircases. With the lights on, it's bright, convivial,
and relaxing; nothing like the dungeon it used to be. He spared no expense in building this
house; I know because I was there with him through the entire designing and building
process, giving and denying approval. This is the first time I've seen Malfoy Manor since the
builders completed it last month, more than four years after they tore it down following his
parents' death.

Once the guests finish awing over the foyer, they typically disappear into the enormous room
dubbed as the "party wing."

When more people arrive, I look at my watch, shocked to see that it's almost midnight; the
invitation owls surely said the festivities started at nine. Shaking my head, I heave another
sigh and promenade in the direction of the thumping music, knowing full well that inside
those double doors will be the last place I'll bump into the reclusive birthday boy. It's in the
minutes it takes me to find the party, when everything stops, people leave me alone, and all
the focus is off me that I really can think clearly.

It's at this moment that I can't help but wonder just how I got here.

"Hermione!" Ginny calls my name over the music.

I don't even know how I hear her, I can't see her. It's so dark and crowded.

The birthday/housewarming party is in full swing by the time I come back to reality. There
has to be a few hundred people in here. Music is playing thanks to the DJ, Blaise Zabini,
people are literally dry humping on the dance floor, couples are freely making out the
couches in the corner of the room, lights flash in the dark room with the beat of the music,
lots of chatty people off and away from the dance floor, caddy witches sneering at anyone
who looks better, free drinks of your choice at seven different bars with seven different
themes, free food from all over the world.

There's a quiet place people can go to talk. The back door is open to anyone who wants to
take the party outside into the extensive gardens.

In about an hour, everyone will be outside for the magical fireworks display.

He really knows how to throw a party…it's an amazing sight to behold. Really.

It takes a minute to spot Ginny in the crowd of gyrating bodies on the dance floor and I
approach her with caution because she's taking shots of something that looks like petrol and
dancing with two extremely attractive men. Ron would pass out if he saw her right now and
Harry…Harry would hex the guys into a new year.

She's flushed from dancing. "Isn't this great?"

"Yeah, simply amazing!" I holler my response back, moving my hips to look like I'm dancing
and having fun.

For someone who is "taking a break" from Harry so he can "find himself" before he makes a
decision on whether or not he wants to settle down (a.k.a.: he wants to have sex with other
women to see if the grass really is greener on the other side), she's having a better time than I
am. I think it's because she's nineteen, just finished her first season as a professional
Quidditch player, and she's "finding herself" too.

The one of the men slithers up to me, grinding his hips against me so seductively that I blush
and shake my head, clearly showing no interest in dancing.

It's not like I really can anyway.

He shrugs and goes back to grinding against my best friend's arse and I go on a quest for a
drink.

The Firewhisky burns more than usual tonight and all plans to get trashed fly right out the
window.

Instead, I sit at the bar, detached from everyone, and think.

I think and wonder just when was the moment my life became so outrageous, so crazy that
I'm driven to the decision I've just made. I've completed my training as a Healer and quit my
extremely high-paying job to take a new one that doesn't pay so great at St. Mungo's. I put in
notice to move to a new flat closer to the hospital and abruptly ended something that can't be
classified into a specific group other than, "a giant mistake."

"This next song goes out to the birthday boy, Draco Malfoy, wherever he is."

I signal to the barmaid for another Firewhisky, better make it a double.

Part Two: Crush

Two years.

Ten months.

Fifteen days.

Twelve hours.

Forty-seven minutes.

That's exactly how long I've had a crush on Draco Malfoy;

Exactly how long I've been occasionally sleeping with him;

And exactly how long I've been planning my escape.

Crushes are supposed to be innocent, exquisite, and supposed to make you feel fantastic, but
this crush comes with some of the worst anguish I've ever felt in my life. It makes me want to
wrench my eyes out with a spade saturated in poison. This crush makes me want to kick and
scream in frustration until I can no longer breathe. This crush is exactly what the name
implies: a crush and it's crushing the life out of me.
And I can't let it, not anymore.

Being around someone who doesn't share your feelings is maddening.

Getting fed mixed signals by someone who you care about is about as awful as it is
confusing.

Being forced to keep distance is some of the worst torture I've ever subjected myself to.

Occasionally having sex with someone and having to pretend each encounter means nothing
is painful.

Watching countless women openly flirt with, giggle over, and try to seduce someone you
want is just agonising.

Everyday I spend in his presence, everytime he tortures me by sitting in my office for most of
the day, everytime he stands in my office doorway stoic and bearing lunch for the two of us,
everyday this crush goes unrequited, everytime he tells me about each of his horrendous
dates and his equally appalling five-month relationship with Astoria Greengrass that started
right after our first time together, everytime-it's like a tiny piece of me is sloughed off.

So I'm leaving before it's too late. I'm leaving before there's nothing left of me to hold on to.
I'm leaving before I'm unable to recognise my reflection in the mirror. I'm leaving because I
want my life back. I'm leaving. I can't take any of this shit anymore. I can't stand this.

And even though I'm leaving, the sad truth is, the truth that breaks my heart is…I still want
him to want me.

I want to mean something to Draco. Something extraordinary. I want to be more than just that
Gryffindor Granger and more than Harry Potter's bushy-haired best friend and Ronald
Weasley's ex-girlfriend. I want to be more than the brightest witch of my day and more than
his senior financial analyst. Something more than the person who helped him uncorrupt the
lending company he inherited after his father's death.

I want my name to evoke something deep in him and I want my name to tug at his heart. For
once, I want to be prevalent in Draco's thoughts. I want to matter to him. Whether this is an
upshot of my need for vengeance for this unrequited crush, I don't know, but more than
anything, I want him to want me. I want to be the one he owls when he thinks of something
that he needs to share with someone. Merlin, this is funny to me, because I'm that person for
a lot of people, but even now, I want to be that person for him.

I want to be vital. Even more than that, I want him to find me endearing rather than annoying.
I want to be beautiful to him instead of cute. I want him to display some kind of emotion
towards me and not just shag me. I want to be intelligent to him instead of a know-it-all. I
want him to be captivated with my idiosyncrasies, mesmerized by my bad habits, and I want
him to adore all the wonderful things about me that make me…me.

I want him to realise all the minor details about me and appreciate them. I want him to
occasionally glance from his work and wonder what I'm doing at that exact moment. I want
him to seek me out before I write an owl to him. And because none of this has happened,
because none of this will probably ever happen, I'm leaving.

Whenever he's around, whenever someone flirts with him, whenever someone coos about
how cute he is-I feel like becoming a horrible, petulant, needy child that I never want to be
and I hate it. I hate him for making me feel this way. I hate him.

And that's another reason why I'm leaving.

"Pretty girl like you shouldn't be sitting all alone."

I look up and over to see Theodore Nott sitting on the barstool next to me. He's smoking a
cigarette and drinking a glass of Firewhisky and I don't think he knows who I am because if
he did, he wouldn't have complimented me. I haven't seen him since his father received the
Dementor's kiss after the war; punishment for crimes committed as a Death Eater. Pansy told
me he left the Wizarding World with his mother, so to see him here tonight piques my
interest, mildly.

"How are you enjoying the party, Nott?"

Instantly, he recognises my voice. "Granger?" He looks at me with wide eyes, "Hermione

Granger?"

Slowly, with a touch of humor, I reply, "The one and only."

His face scrunches like he's eaten a bad lemon. "You look…different."

I know I do. I managed to tame the hair, my robes fit better, and I've recently dived into the
world of light makeup.

Pansy's idea, not mine, of course.

"Umm…thanks, you look…the same." I honestly can barely remember him from school. I
remember seeing him in the library a few times. He was in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes
with me, but I don't recall him being in any of my other classes, not even the ones we had
with Slytherin. Maybe I wasn't paying attention.

The next few minutes are filled with bullshit conversation. How are you? Are you enjoying
the party? What have you been doing since school? Where do you work? Do you still keep
up with anyone? It's the rubbish you have to get out the way before you decide whether you
really want to keep talking to this person. I can tell immediately he is not.

Theodore Nott, I can tell, still thinks little of me because of my blood status. He may be civil,
poised, and too mature to sneer and call me a Mudblood, but he still thinks of me as one. He
tells me he left London and moved to America with his mother to get away from everything
and now he's back, working in the London branch of the Department of International Magical
Cooperation. He's not really close with anyone, but then again, he never was.

Pansy invited him to the party, but he deduces that she only did it to be polite. Knowing her,
he's right.
He asks nothing about me; it's almost as if he's not interested and doesn't care. He's boring
and his underlying jabs against me that he doesn't realise I understand are much
unappreciated. Still, I'm too tired to curse him out so I just listen politely and nod, letting my
mind drift.

Part Three: Chills

*smut*

Theodore leaves me alone after the fireworks and I find myself wandering down the
corridors, lost in my pursuit of nothing, completely unaware of anything.

"You really shouldn't be walking around here alone, Granger, you don't know what or who is
lurking about."

Surprised, I spin on my heels and gasp, finding myself facing the austere and reclusive
birthday boy, dressed in crisp, black robes that make him appear to be paler than he actually
is. When his face coils into a smirk, I rapidly come to the realisation that the only danger
lurking about in these halls is standing right in front of me.

He is the worst danger of them all.

Moments later I find my voice, but it's not nearly as confident as it should be. "The party's
out there, why are you here?"

His smirk is evident even in the dimly lit hall as he backs me against the wall, his body
pressed against mine. "I'm pretty certain the party is about to be right here."

Draco's eyes never leave mine, not for a moment, while his hand search his tailored robes
briefly for his wand. He mutters an incantation that makes the wall open into a room I have
no choice but to go into. With a wave of his wand, the lights come on, dim, and I find myself
in awe of this small, immaculate private library with painted walls and rich, wooden floors.
Rows of perfectly organised books on cherry wood hand-carved bookshelves, a matching
desk and chair, a few chairs, and an emerald green couch complete the room.

In front of the desk is a great fireplace that strangely reminds me of the fireplace in the
Gryffindor tower.

"You can come in, Granger."

Oh, I know I can, I just don't want to.

I stand in the doorway.

"Alright then, since you plan on being difficult tonight…" Draco places his wand neatly on
his desk. He loosens his tie, removes the jacket to his dress robes, and calmly approaches me;
the sole of his dragon-hide shoes echo through the room with each step he makes towards
me.
When he speaks next, his voice is hushed and I feel it against my neck, just below my ear,
"Are you enjoying the party? Is it to your satisfaction?"

To my satisfaction? Since when does he care about my satisfaction?

"It's certainly grand," I curse myself internally for such a stupid answer.

"Wonderful." His lips are centimetres from my neck and all my sense zero in on the
sensation. The smell of his cologne is mixed with something that oddly smells like cake and
Firewhisky. It's all so consuming, so volatile. He touches my shoulders with tense hands. I
imagine I look like his hands feel at this very moment, the only difference being the tears that
threaten to hinder my vision.

Still, I refuse to cry. I will never give him the satisfaction of knowing he can sprout such
intense emotions in me.

As his hands travel down my arms, move in and down the contours of my body, I want to
run. I want to walk away. I want to tell him no, but I can't even move, much less speak. I hate
he is the only man who can do this to me; the only man I want to do this to me. I wish he
would just get it over with, get his itch scratched, so I can walk away forever and not look
back. I wish he would just do it because right now I want him to. I want my thirst quenched,
too.

The door closes behind me and I know what's about to happen…and I let it.

Because this is the last time this will ever happen, I've made up my mind.

With a small, low groan Draco's lips touch my neck and sometimes I wish his lips were
touching mine, but they never have. As he sucks on the flesh on my neck, I come to the
realisation that maybe it's a good thing we've never kissed. Kissing is far more intimate, far
more passionate than sex. Kissing someone is a raw and personal connection that's based on
trust and emotion. You can shag anyone; it's just the movement of your bodies. But kissing-
you don't kiss just anyone. You don't let just anyone invade something so personal like your
mouth.

If I ever kiss Draco, it'll be disastrous for me because it'll wake the sleeping dragon inside
me; one that needs to lay dormant for as long as possible.

Draco stands there, running his hands up and down my body, each time moving just a little
lower. He moves down to my breasts, just below them, cupping them over my thin robes,
lifting them. I strain up into his hands as my body betrays me, wanting more. He moves to
my waist, hips, everywhere. I open my eyes, looking at the ceiling through lidded eyes. I
manage to lose the tears just when he traces his hands over my breasts again, meeting at my
collarbone, forcing me to look into eyes.

One by one, he begins to undo the tow of tiny black buttons that grace the back of my dress,
patiently. As the sleeves of my dress begin to loosen, revealing more skin, he tugs my dress
and it falls in a heap around my ankles, leaving me exposed in front of him. I should be cold,
but his body keeps me warm.
Draco bends and kisses each inch of exposed flesh as he smoothly works his way out of his
own clothes.

He is a master at soft kisses. He showers them over every inch of me until I don't think I can
stand it a moment longer, and then he starts all over again, feeding gently on my neck while
his hands fondle and pet me. There's something about the air in this room, the warmth of his
body, the proximity of him, something about this all makes me hazy and slow, and something
about this that calms me and makes me want him not to hurry up any longer.

The couch is adjacent to the door and the next thing I know I'm being lifted off the floor and
placed on the couch.

When he spreads my legs and slips a finger inside me, my skin hums as my hips move in
rhythm with the pace he's set. His fingers touching deep inside me, thumb teasing my clit.
My mind is overwhelmed with sensations, my lips are moaning uncontrollably; I'm trying
desperately to forget all these new feelings because tonight is all about making a clean break
from Draco Malfoy.

It doesn't take long before I feel the familiar tightening and know what's to come; I throw my
head back, lost in this wild abandon, waiting for the waves created by the movement of his
fingers to crash over me. I'm right on the edge, I feel it, the release is palpable. I reach to grab
it, but suddenly his fingers withdraw, and it leaves my body, humming, wanting, and very
unfulfilled.

I shut my eyes tightly and curse him silently.

"Patience is a virtue," he mutters huskily. He always says that to me when in actuality Draco
is the most impatient person I know.

Trust me, patience is a virtue I have in abundance; it's the reason I've stayed so long. I'm sick
of having patience.

Lifting me slightly, my hands reach for the back of the couch. I stabilise myself just as he
enters without warning, filling me deeply and fully. All thoughts about patience and staying
and reasons fly from my mind. Gasping, I clench to him tightly, panting and breathing
unevenly. No one else has ever filled me like this, no one else has ever had me on such an
edge, trust me, I've had enough experience to know Draco's body is a perfect fit. It's like a
glove the way he fits me. He stills himself for what seems like an eternity, allowing himself
and my body to become accustomed.

The dim lights are his spotlight and my eyes are on him.

He is quite a sight to behold. His eyes would tell many stories if he didn't block everyone out.
For a moment, I want to strain to see those windows, wanting to know what secrets I can find
out now while he's in the throws of passion, but I don't. I can't. Because he starts this perfect
cadence that makes me strain against him. My eyes flutter shut and I feel more than I see him
move, holding my body in place as he sets the tempo. My legs are weak, arms that grip his
waist are weak like butter; I need his support because I'm lost in every ounce of sensations
coursing through my body.
I hear him moaning, feel him shaking, and when he stops, I don't know what he's doing. I just
know that he's stopped what my body longs for him to keep going. Suddenly, he releases me;
the connection of our body severs. "Open your eyes."

So I let him and he fills me once again, this time he moves within me with quick strokes. The
expensive couch creaks, stirred by his actions. Those fingers of his splay across my stomach
and drift lower, capturing my clit with his thumb, teasing it mercilessly as he moves against
me.

My body is suspended in a feeling I don't want to describe. My muscles are tense, but I feel
relaxed. My breathing has ceased but I don't need air. Something deep inside me is building it
starts as a small flicker of warmth and grows into an inferno. I can't control the sounds
spilling from my lips, the moans, his names, words I've not muttered until this night. My lips
are pressed tightly together as the tremors turn to quaking, the build up inside me
approaching its peak and I grip his arms, wrap my legs around his. He's moving faster, eyes
shut now as if he's having a peaceful dream.

"Granger," he whispers, not breaking the rhythm, "What do you want?"

I don't have to tell him, I think my moans tell him enough, but still he already knows what I
want, and he obliges to my silent demand, plunging harder. Each thrust I feel a tightening
deep within me. With each thrust, muscles tense more. With each thrust, knuckles turn white
as I dig nails in his skin. All I hear is our rapid, shallow breathing, our moans echoing off the
walls, pure sensations. I feel him become more frantic, hear his moans increase, feel him start
to shake. It's a certain moan he gives off when he's about to orgasm. It's almost like a deep
groan, like he's taken a bite into something that's really superb.

When I hear that moan, I lose it…and he does too.

Part Four: Break Away

We lay there in silence for several minutes, our bodies still as one. It's only when our
breathing returns to normal that he gets up. Veracity is returning, and I never really want it to.
You see, in a perfect world we would lay like this all night, but sadly this is reality, and in
reality we are nothing but an occasional fling.

As we dress, I'm more determined than ever to sever this destructive-whatever this is.

"So," his voice startles me from my thoughts. "Why are you leaving? And be honest,
Granger. Don't give me any bullshit about your passion to become a Healer either," Draco
frowns. "You may feed everyone that lie, but I know its complete bollocks, all of it. You
didn't even want to be a bloody Healer until after we started sleeping together."

Fixing the last button, I turn to face him. My head is held high as I reply as cold as he sounds,
"What I want to know is why you care, Draco? It's very unlike you to give a damn about
anyone other than yourself."

"Touché, Granger, touché."

"I am not selfish, you are! Go bugger yourself."

"You already did that," he smirks boastfully.

"I hate you." I speak aloud, unintentionally, but secretly content that he's heard those words.

Draco's entire demeanor changes into something I don't recognise. It's a face I've never seen
before. Disbelief is the only word that comes to mind. This is definitely new for him. Women
don't hate Draco Malfoy; they love him, they aspire to shag him, they aim to marry him, they
don't hate him.

Quickly, he regains his composure. "You do? Well, life goes on."

Of course, he succeeds in adding insult to injury.

Congratulations, Draco, would you like to rip me apart some more?

My voice raises to the point where I'm almost screaming at him. "Fuck you. I don't care.
Leaving is my choice," I taste defiance in my mouth. "I gave you my letter of resignation
months ago, and you never even bothered to ask. You never said a word, so why bother to ask
me now, Draco?"

"I don't have to answer that."

"And I don't have to answer you. I'm sure you already have some theory conspiracy worked
up anyway."

"As a matter of fact—"

"Save your breath, I don't give a shit. Chalk it up to whatever you want, I don't care. I'm
leaving." And I start for the door.

Draco grabs my arm. "Where are you going?"

I throw his arm off me, seething with dignified rage. "Get away from me, Draco."

What little color is left in his face is rapidly leaving. "You don't mean that."

I laugh. It's bitter and void of feeling, even though I'm nothing but feelings, especially for
him. I stand my ground, as hard as it may be. "Don't you get it? This, whatever the hell this
is, it's done. We're done, Draco. I hope you enjoyed tonight because you'll never have the
opportunity to touch me again. So go find another whore to start shagging, find as many
whores as you want because I'm not going to be your standby anymore."

He stands stoic, staring at me with narrowed eyes, but his voice is oddly vulnerable. "You
can't just walk away."

"Oh, I can't?" I chuckle ruefully, "Just watch me."

 Two

Part One: Summertime Sadness

August 9th

The summer morning sky is a hazy, polluted orange and red sky, randomly dotted with
fainting stars…and I really don't plan to see the morning sky today.

Don't get me wrong, I am very fond of morning; enjoy it more than any other part of the day.
I love nighttime, but mornings hold the presage and the potential of a new day. Despite the
early morning smog and the fact that I feel under the weather because of this persistent
summer cold, I have to admit that this morning is a particularly nice summer morning and I
can tell it's going to be another nice day.

The sun rises above the horizon and a warm breeze blows the trees and my hair. It's now mid-
morning and instead of being in bed, like I want, I'm walking the streets in Diagon Alley with
Pansy and Ginny. Today is my first day off from St. Mungo's since I started working and after
spending every free moment of last week sleeping, they really want to spend today out.

And though I'll never admit it to them, it really does feels so wrong to be inside on a day this
magnificent.

I meander, stopping often to stare at the sky and the bustling pedestrians heading to work and
preparing for their day, much to the chagrin of Pansy who constantly grumbles in an irritated
manner, "Would you please hurry up?"

While she and Ginny are in a broom shop, I wait outside, taking a deep breath of almost fresh
air, smell the food from the restaurants, candy from the shops, smoke from the joke shop's
firework display, and…too bad the combination of those strong smells make me a bit queasy.

I frown when they lead me into a dress robes shop.

"So, what exactly are we doing here?" I ask aloud; a few witches look at me warily.

"Well," Pansy starts, tucking her black hair behind her ear, "I'm taking you shopping for some
new robes

"What for?"

"As a get well gift. You've been under the weather lately so I decided to do something nice
for you."

Yes, and dragging me out the bed at the crack of dawn for new robes is exactly what I need to
get over this bloody cold.
Why not some more pepper-up potion? I ran out last night.

Ginny snorts humorously, shaking her head. "Right, Pans, and since when do you do anything
that doesn't at least benefit you somewhat?"

This evil little smirk creeps across her face. "Okay, you caught me. So, my intentions are
positioned a bit in the selfish region, but that doesn't mean I don't care."

I forget about intentions and shopping and evil smirks and focus on the music. Someone is
playing the guitar.

It reminds me of the summer I spent in Verona when I was ten.

Stopping, I close my eyes for a few minutes, listening and reminiscing. The moment is mine
to seize so I put this into a mental scrapbook I keep. It holds all the exceptional times for me,
from childhood, through Hogwarts, after the war, right up to the present. Good times, when I
feel on top of the world, invincible, overflowing with life. I have to admit there aren't a lot of
them. I presume there aren't supposed to be, but this is one of them. This moment right here
is full of promise, makes me feel right with the universe, and makes my problems, authentic
and superficial, seem like nothing at all.

When Pansy and Ginny each grab a hand and pull me out of the entrance and into the robes
shop, I allow myself to smile at the new happy memory.

And while I'm getting fitted, I let my mind to drift through the last month.

The move is uneventful and with magic and good friends. It takes me about a day to unpack
everything, including the kitchen, living room, and dining room. Ginny is a borderline slob
and lazy, so it takes about a week and a half for her to unpack just her bedroom. And that's
only because Pansy and I had an intervention and did it for her while she was at the market
getting crisps…

"'Mione?" Ginny calls tearing me from my silent reverie.

Without giving it much thought, I answer. "Never heard of her."

"Quit playing games, Hermione, you've been in there nearly fifteen minutes. Come out and
let us see what you look like." Pansy tells me, trying to be firm, which is impossible because
I can hear the smile in her voice.

"I'd rather stick my face in a blender. I don't feel well and here I am trying on robes, this is
the most ridiculous—"

"Don't be so dramatic."

"I'm not," I grumble, pushing open the door to let them take their once-overs. I don't think
they fully comprehend just how irritable and tired I feel. Between working and everything, I
don't sleep much, but I sleep all the time. And because of this cold, there is nothing more I
want other than to spend the day in bed sleeping and catching up on telly.
"You look…" Pansy's eyes trail up and down, but focus on my face for a moment before
finishing her statement with an extremely disappointed look on her face, "Sick."

"Ding, ding! Someone give this woman a prize." I do my best imitation of a game show host,
perky and with a crooked smile, and then deadpan my next words, "Guys, I feel like crap."

"You were fine this morning-" At the look on my face, she caves. "Okay, just one more store
and we'll Apparate you back home."

My mind drifts to the Friday after the Draco's party when we (Ginny, Pansy, Luna, and I)
decide to get together and celebrate the move and everything else with junk food and movies
in our new flat. We have a lot to celebrate, it seems.

Luna is spending the rest of the summer in Sweden hunting for crumple-horned snorkacks
with her father before she takes a job as a magical plant and animal researcher for the
Ministry. She still believes in the existence of all those creatures, but I think she really likes
spending time with her father most of all. Since she moved on her own and he started dating
again, Luna doesn't get to see him as often as she likes. Luna makes sure to send lots of
pictures and gifts and we promise to keep her up to date about everything.

Pansy is starting a new relationship with some French wizard, Pierre something-or-the-other
she met while visiting her grandparents in Paris. Pansy has had so many boyfriends that by
the time I learn their names she's already dumped and moved on to someone else. The men
she dates are always gorgeous, the kind you see modeling in Witch Weekly (some of them are
models), but that's to be expected. Handsome men love women like Pansy: she's beautiful,
rich, skinny, and extremely funny. I'm really glad Ginny and I became friends with her. And,
actually, now that I think about it, she's not even with Pierre anymore.

Ginny is launching of her dating career where she plans to not-exclusively date three men a
month until the start of playoffs in Quidditch, which is in about nine months, dropping and
picking up new men at will. She's always been a bit of a serial dater, even back at school, but
it stopped with Harry. Now that they are separated, men are lining up to take her out. After a
thorough screening process, she already has three lined up for the month of August: Seamus
Finnigan, Anthony Goldstein, and Ernie Macmillan…and she's been out with Seamus and
Ernie once already this month. Not to mention, she's scoping for September.

As for me, I'm celebrating my freedom from Draco. I told them about everything that
happened and when I spoke about walking out, they cheered. We all did. I can't say that two
months have changed my feelings for him, but what I can say is that I feel more human than I
have in years. The first two month of my new life have me falling into a routine…and it's
wonderful.

I get up in the morning, jog with Ginny and Pansy at the crack of dawn (something I haven't
done in the last week), come home and have some tea. I go to work, take my lunch and either
meet up with Pansy who works part-time as the hospital's receptionist (she doesn't need the
money) or Ginny who likes to drop by when she's not practicing. I get off around four, the
three of us go to dinner at this bar and grill near our flat, Pansy usually walks home with us
when she's not going out, and we chill together until it's time to go to bed. Pansy either floos
home or stays the night, Ginny answers owls from fans, and I practice a bit of yoga before I
go to bed.

It varies from day to day, but all in all I'm having a good time rediscovering myself with my
best friends…

Today, I'm not.

"One more store" has turned into five and Pansy has about eight new dress robes. I have
none. Ginny is even yawning. Now she's looking for a book. I somehow manage to tame my
annoyance by hunting down a book for myself to read when I'm back in bed. I get so lost in
my quest for the perfect book that I run smack into one of the employees.

"I'm sorry. I was just coming to see if you needed any assistance." He smiles and before I can
fix my lips to reply, he continues, "Do you need any help?"

"No thanks. I got what I came for," I head to the register.

"How are you today?" The guy at the register asks, animated.

"Pretty well." I sit the book on the counter just as Ginny comes to stand by my side, yawning.
I smirk to myself.

"I think Pansy is ready to go," she informs.

"Well, thank Merlin for that miracle."

The guy at the register looks at my book, flips it over, and reads the title aloud, "The History
of Scandinavian Magic, volume 12. Is this for school? I didn't even know we carried this
book…or that it has 11 volumes before this one."

Ginny's eyes go wide and my blood instantly goes from room temperature to boiling.

Of course, I'm still trying to be polite. For additional support, Ginny's hand is now on my
shoulder, silently telling me not to kick his arse. I'm really trying not to, but there is
something in my head rhythmically bellowing, "Kill, kill, kill…" I don't know where all this
rage is coming from, it's not like me to be so angry over nothing, but I forgo all things logical
and let my temper build. "Yes, well, I'm a voracious reader." And I sound every bit as on edge
as I am.

He's still looking at the title with amazement, "Old ladies with cats probably read this book."

My temper spikes. This uncontrollable rage hits an apex. Yes, this is the last straw.

Dropping my voice to a volume only he and Ginny can hear, I lean forward on the counter
and speak my next words, very darkly with clenched jaws, "Listen here, you little
Flobberworm. I came here to buy this book, not to get your inane and pseudo-scholastic
opinion on it. So tell me what I have to pay and put the book in a bloody bag before I jump
over this counter and shove your balls up through your throat."
Ginny's mouth drops. "Holy shit."

With her words, the guy quickly snaps out of his own shock and begins to bag the book.

"That'll be one galleons, three sickles, and six knuts."

I hand him exactly what he asked and he hands me the bag.

He stammers, "You have a nice day."

I flash a fake smile. "Oh, I will…thank you."

On the way out, I notice someone reading a Witch Weekly article about Malfoy Lending
Company…and it sprouts my first thoughts of Draco today.

Now that I'm not his senior financial analyst, I'm no longer getting owled messages in the
middle of the night for randomness that usually I have to get out of bed for and Floo to his
house to deal with because he sleeps so little. I'm no longer looking over my shoulder to see
if Draco is lurking; no longer do I have to listen to women talk about their unsuccessful plans
to get him in bed and I don't find him sitting at my desk in the morning with a cup of my
favorite tea. I no longer have to deal with the mixed signals he gives off. He's not quiet with
me anymore and I'm no longer his spare.

Great, huh?

Yes, yes it is.

But sometimes, parts of me miss him.

I know, it's silly, but I do. He represents a large portion of the last three years of my life; I'd
be lying if I said I didn't at least think about him.

I think about him when I look on my desk and see that letter his owl dropped of the Monday
after his party; the letter I haven't bothered to read.

Sometimes, when I'm lying in bed at night, I think and wonder if we're capable of a
friendship. If he were anyone else I've had a fling with, I'd say yes, we're capable of being
friends, their body language tells me so, but with him-he's the only one who gives me nothing
to go on. Ginny says she ran into him in Diagon Alley two weeks ago while shopping for
new dress robes. She says he asked about me. Of course it was in his own roundabout
method, which really meant they chatted about Quidditch until she casually and quite on
purpose mentioned my name and he offhandedly asked in that annoyingly unemotional voice
of his, "Oh, how is…she?"

Which is exactly what happened.

What can I say? I know him like I know the freckles that adorn my shoulders.

See, I half-expected something like that to occur, but what I didn't expect was Draco
informing her that his company decided to sponsor for her Quidditch team, Holyhead
Harpies, and that he purchased them new Quidditch equipment. He asks for our address to
connect to our flat so he can Floo over some of the equipment that's been delivered to his
home. It's the most absurd thing I've ever heard and I'm kind of worried that he's losing his
touch. Still, as she tells me this, my eyes go wide, my heart races…until she says she gave
him the manager's address instead, using the excuse that we have no room to store any
equipment. Whew!

However, I wonder what exactly that suspicious Draco Malfoy is up to…sneaky little ferret.

Part Two: Talk

Pansy is always late.

It never fails. I'm always fifteen minutes early and she's always twenty minutes late.
Sometimes, I tell her she needs to be somewhere an hour earlier than she actually needs to be,
but she still manages to show up, not just that hour late, but the twenty minutes too. So when
I sit down at the table with my peppermint tea, I blow the steam in confidence that by the
time she gets here, my tea will be cold and possibly gone.

I'm lost in thought when I hear a calm, cool voice speak above me. "Someone sitting here?"

My entire body goes rigid at the sound of his voice.

Before I can verbalise my protest, Draco takes the seat across from me, coffee in hand,
looking perfectly poised as usual.

He's in all black. He always wears all black and every time I see him, I find myself curiously
thinking, how is it that he stays so cool? I'm thinking he must have some sort of coolant
charm on his clothes because I'm wearing much less and sitting inside, right now, I'm hot. He
doesn't grace me with eye contact for the longest and seems to find something outside
tremendously interesting.

All my focus is on drinking this cup of tea because he makes me feel so insecure. Watching
him sit there and stare out the fucking window makes me nervous in a way I haven't been
since I walked the halls of the school I attended before Hogwarts; when my paranoid,
puberty-ridden self knew that everyone was staring, not because I was cute or charming, but
because I wasn't good enough.

With him, I've never felt good enough.

With him, I feel a variety of emotions.

I feel childish, needy, unimportant, and insignificant.

And maybe he's trying to make me feel like this, maybe he's trying to degrade me, trivialize
me, and make me feel irrelevant…and it works. Because now I'm sitting here in front of him
and, even though I feel like crap, all I can think about is if my clothes are right, if I look
good, if my hair is too frizzy, what he thinks of me…
"Have you started your new job?"

My head jerks up to find his eyes piercing right into me. I clear my throat. "I have."

He takes a few sips of coffee. "Do you like it?"

I finish the last of my tea. "It's very gratifying."

"Are you drinking chai tea?"

"Peppermint," I reply, eyes stuck on the table.

"Are you sick?" he asks mildly.

"Just a summer cold, why do you ask?"

His even voice gives me the chills. "I know chai tea is your favorite and I was about to offer
to buy you another cup. Would you like another cup of peppermint tea?"

Oh, sweet Merlin, he knows. He knows something as insignificant as my favorite tea. He

knows-and I almost slap myself. No, this is just another one of those mixed signals and he'll
probably be ignoring me in a few minutes. So, I won't pay attention to it, I won't let it sweep
me up, and I won't be foolish. I'm more level headed than this. I'm not the girl who gets swept
up in crap like this. I force all those thoughts out my head and give him a short nod.

Minutes later, I have a fresh cup of peppermint tea with all the right fixings. I take the first
sip that tastes even better than the last cup. "Thanks."

After a few moment of tense silence, he asks, "Do you like your new flat?"

"Yes," and while he's on the topic, "Ginny told me the company is sponsoring the Holyhead
Harpies and about the new equipment you bought."

"We are. The decision was made the Monday after you left. Do they like the equipment?"

"Yes, from what I can tell, they do."

This time, I look away; focusing on a tree outside the coffee shop, the kids walking,
everything, just to take my mind off of this awkward conversation. I pray Pansy will just
appear and make this all stop. It's another two minutes before I decide to look at Draco again.
His face is twisted and it looks like he's intent on discussing a very serious subject. I can't tell
if that's his real intention or if he just looks normal, but I hold my breath anyway, praying he
isn't going to unload his girl problems on me.

Anything but that.

He sits his coffee down. "Can we cut the bullshit for a moment?"

It's not just his question that stuns me; it's his tone, the almost brittle restlessness in the sense
that he smooths his hair down.
He's frustrated?

Lovely.

I maintain my composure. "I'm sorry, what?"

He gives a curt sigh. "We've been dancing around the issue at hand and quite frankly, I don't
like to dance."

I feign ignorance and reply very mockingly. "Forgive me, this summer cold has me a little
foggy. If you could explain to me why you look and sound so frustrated about dancing, then
maybe I could help."

Draco flexes his hands and I know he's irritated. I don't think I've ever seen him as anything
other than composed, severe, and stoic.

But right now, the aggravation and frustration is very palpable.

Good.

"I was talking about this issue-you and me."

I tuck my hair behind my ear and take another taste of tea. I'm silent for another moment
before I retort in seemingly bewildered tones, "I'm sorry, Draco, but I didn't recognise there
even was an issue between you and me."

He scoffs. "I didn't either until you shouted at me about not wanting to be my spare, stormed
from the room, and made damn sure I had no way of getting your new address."

"I think the term I used was 'standby', Draco."

He ignores my correction and moves on with ease. "Did you get my owl?"

"Yes."

"Did you, I don't know, read it?"

"Truthfully, I didn't feel it was necessary."

"And why not?" His tone is cool, but his anger is baking beneath the surface.

"Reading your letter is a major setback in my plans to rid you from my life."

"Hmph," He looks thoughtful for a moment, "So I was right. All this change was about me."

I cross my arms, "Oh, don't be so bloody egotistical, Draco."

"Fine," he fires back, "I won't be egotistical, if you stop being so bloody stubborn and tell me
what the hell is wrong, why you insist on running from me. I had to follow you from St.
Mungo's to—"
Wait, what?

"You followed me? Are you stalking me now or something? What the hell is wrong with
you?"

Just like always, when I'm up in arms and mad as hell, he sits there like nothing is going on
and speaks calmly, "You didn't leave me with many options, Hermione."

I'm rapidly losing control over myself. "You don't deserve any options; you don't deserve
anything! Last I checked, I hated you…and you didn't care. Life goes on, you said…and
you're absolutely right."

Draco takes a moment to straighten the container with the little packs of sugar, making sure
it's perfectly aligned with the small bowl of half-and-half and the napkins. Even this little act
of dismissal sends my brain in a whirlwind of rage and offense. I feel that oh-so familiar rise
in blood pressure as my blood starts to boil. When he finishes, Draco looks at me for a few
seconds.

"I just wanted to know what was wrong."

My temper is rising like molten lava in a volcano that's about to erupt. "I wouldn't have to tell
you what's wrong with me if your head wasn't shoved up your arse! You know nothing about
what goes on around you and I find that a bit pathetic. You know, of all the inconsiderate,
selfish, and childish—"

"Childish?" He snorts. "Guess you know all about that, huh?"

I feel that volcano erupt suddenly in my head and all I see is red. The echo of my slap
reverberates all over the coffee shop, causing heads to turn to see the origin of this
disturbance and tiny whispers and looks from other customers. Wearing a noticeable red
mark on his pale face, Draco shows very little emotion while I'm red hot with the heat of
anger across from him.

He takes another sip of his coffee and checks his watch before standing and speaking very
stiffly. "If you're finished having your puerile little temper tantrum, I have a meeting." He
tosses a few Muggle dollars on the table and walks out.

Part Four: Unwell

August 13th

"That's it?" Ginny asks incredulously as she stabs the bowtie noodles on her plate, looking at
Pansy who's eating her chicken salad conscientiously with a growing pile of cucumbers and
onions on a little plate. She's on the hunt for another onion, spots it, makes a face and uses
her fork to extract it from her salad and add it to the pile.

We've decided tonight is the perfect night to try a new restaurant for dinner. It's Friday and in
spite of the incident with Draco, it's been a good week. I'm going to be on my own this
weekend because they are going out, so tonight is our night and we're eating at the family
restaurant next door to the bar and grill. Pansy was just telling us how she met this good-
looking Muggle guy during a random shopping trip with Daphne Greengrass when he so
rudely started making catcalls and wolf-whistles at them.

"Yes, that's it." Pansy replies simply, sipping her water with lemon.

"You didn't hex him or anything?" I question, dipping my spoon in chicken noodle soup, not
very hungry. If there's one thing I know about Pansy Parkinson is that she doesn't appreciate
rudeness. When provoked, she is a force to be reckoned with. Her temper is worse than
Ginny at her finest and mine at my most epic, though after the incident in the bookstore and a
more recent incident on the elevator in the mall yesterday, she would beg to differ.

"No, I decided to spare his life. I'm too pretty to go to Azkaban."

Ginny smiles. "So, you didn't yell at him out or harm him in any way?"

Pansy just stares at her before laughing. "No, you make me out to be some sort of monster."

"Well…"

I chuckle when she swat Ginny's arm in protest. "I know that I can be a bit, umm…" Pansy
rakes her fingers through her black hair, searching for the right words.

"Bitchy?" I offer with a shrug, pushing my bowl of soup away, not interested in touching it.

There's a glare right before Pansy clears her throat, "Thanks, Hermione, I was going to say
difficult."

"Oh, difficult?" Ginny scoffs sarcastically, "Right, okay." She pauses for a moment and gives
Pansy a look that tells her to continue. So when it becomes evident that she needs prompting,
Ginny speaks up, "So…what happened?"

"He was an obnoxious jerk. Let's just say that the conceited smile was suddenly smacked
right off his face—"

"I thought you didn't harm him."

"I didn't."

Now we're both confused. "What? You said—"

"I didn't do anything. Daphne did. Marched right across the store and slapped the—"

"Greengrass slapped someone?" Ginny exclaims, "I thought she was all anti-violence and
eco-friendly."

"Well, she had a lapse back to the day she slapped Blaise for screaming her bra size to
everyone in earshot at dinner in Fifth Year. I really thought I was going to have to put her in a
full body-bind to stop her from kicking this guy's arse."
Ginny cracks up. "What I would give to be a fly on the wall at that store."

I just sit there; quietly chuckling at the mental image of the scene plays out in my head.
Daphne has always been a feminist, always ranting about how it was unfair that a man runs
the entire Ministry of Magic, that women have to suffer monthly at the hands of a man, and
how men get to be fat and disgusting but women have to be pretty and petite to get dates.
She's kind of anti-men these days, but I suspect she's as scared of them hurting her as they are
of her.

A lot of men are intimidated by a powerful woman, that's something we all know, but
sometimes, Daphne intimidates me, especially when she goes off on one of her tangents…

"So," Pansy's voice interrupts my thoughts, "Hermione, do you feel any better?"

"Not particularly."

"Are you sure it's a cold?" Ginny wonders.

"I'm positive. I've had enough summer colds to know what it feels like. Albeit, this is one of
the worst ones I've ever had, but still. What else could it be?"

She shrugs and finishes her food.

Pansy's still observing me critically and takes a drink of lemon water before she concludes,
"You look like shit."

I glare at her. "Why thank you, Pans," I sit my spoon down, sarcastically biting. "That's a
wonderful thing to say."

She shrugs brashly as if she knows she's telling the truth, "Well, you do…" She looks in my
almost full bowl, "Why don't you really eat something? You're probably just hungry." Pansy's
offhanded suggestion makes Ginny's eyebrow shoot heavenward.

I shrug. "I'm not, actually. I've eaten a little of this, but I'm not really hungry."

"All you eat is toast and even that's on occasion. And all you drink is water and tea. That can't
be good."

"Well, at least I'm hydrated." I retort sarcastically.

"Nobody likes a smart-arse, Hermione. Not when I'm just being a concerned friend. You've
lost weight." Pansy gives me a very motherly look, while she reprimands me like a child. I
really feel sorry for her future children and I'm starting to thank the stars that she doesn't want
them. It's Pansy's way or the highway, nobody can tell her anything.

And since I'm in no mood to spar it out with her, I compromise, "You're right, I'm probably
just hungry."

So I start eating, even though my body screams that I'm making the wrong decision. Even
though my stomach feels like I'm on a rollercoaster that lurches uncontrollably. Somehow, I
manage to finish the soup, talk a bit longer, pay, and leave. Pansy, satisfied by my eating
habits, decides to walk back with us to our flat. I want to Apparate because I feel so bad, but I
know its tradition, we always walk.

Pansy is the first to speak. "Okay, so I've been thinking—"

"Gosh, I knew I smelled something burning!" Ginny laughs at own joke.

I smile weakly.

"Funny, Ginny, real funny…" she deadpans. "Anyway, I've been thinking about seriously
dating someone."

I stop dead in my tracks. "I'm sorry, what?"

Ginny looks to the sky as if she's trying to spot a specific star. "I think the world is coming to
an end. Are there pigs flying?" she turns her gaze to Pansy, "Quick, owl your mum and see if
hell has frozen over."

"Why would my mum know if—" Pansy frowns, "Not funny, Ginny."

"Well, I thought it was," she chuckles and continues with the truth. "You know your mum is
the devil's most loyal subject…she won't even let Hermione on the property because she's not
a Pureblood." Pansy agrees with a truthful nod and shrug that meant, 'what can I say? She's
my mum'. We start walking again and Ginny changes the topic back, "So, why do you want
to get serious with someone?"

"Gifts," is her quick and simple reply.

"I'm sorry, what?" I repeat.

"Gifts, Hermione, gifts. I was in the store, picking out this goblin necklace for me and I ran
into this guy who was buying his girlfriend a gift to show his appreciation and that's when it
hit me. It was like enlightenment. There, I realised that the longer you date someone, the
better the gifts are and the more gifts you get. There's anniversary gifts, Christmas gifts, 'the
day I met you' gifts, random gifts, 'thinking of you' gifts, thank you gifts, birthday gifts, and
Merlin, if we get engaged, we get gifts from everyone!"

She's totally serious. Of course, Ginny and I exchange looks.

"Pans—" I start to reprimand, but my stomach does this violent heave and I press my hand to
it. I clear my throat and start again, "You—" Another reel. I close my eyes and will myself
not to throw up here and now.

"Are you okay? You look a bit green."

"I'm fine, I just—"

The next thing I know, I'm on my knees, painfully puking up everything I ate in the grass two
blocks from our flat, whilst Pansy shrieks, "Yuck! Oh, my god! So gross!" and Ginny holds
my hair back. When I feel there's nothing left to come up, Pansy looks around, whips out her
wand, and mutters spells to clean the mess and me up. She uses a charm to clean my mouth
while Ginny sits on the ground next to me, rubbing my lower back, and Merlin does it feel
good.

I close my eyes, drawing my knees to my chest and resting my head on them as she massages
my aching lower back.

"You weren't kidding when you said you didn't feel well. Maybe I shouldn't have forced you
to eat. Sorry about that." Pansy makes a face that really does make her look like a pug.

"It's okay, really." I mumble, relaxed.

"Do you feel better?"

"Kind of. Just tired."

Ginny stops massaging and I suddenly want to throttle her. "Hermione, how long have you
been sick like this?"

Distracted and a little woozy, "I don't know, three weeks?"

"Symptoms?"

I look at Ginny like she's crazy. "Interested in a career as a Healer or something?" When she
gives me a stern glare, I sigh and list them off, "My muscles hurt, it's mainly my back and it's
kind of dull, I threw up yesterday morning and just now, I'm really tired all the time, and
everything smells funny—"

"Let's not forget the mood swings," Ginny interjects, "You uncharacteristically slapped Draco
and cussed that guy out at Florish and Botts—"

"And that man on the elevator you almost hexed!" Pansy exclaims, suddenly remembering
the incident I want to forget.

Ginny raises an eyebrow. She doesn't know what happened. "Anything else?"

"No." I reply glumly.

Pansy laughs. "Sounds to me like you're pregnant. I hope you're not pregnant. Wouldn't that
be the worst thing ever? Getting fat and peeing all the time."

I let out a rueful laugh. "Please, that's the most ridiculous thing you've ever said. I can't be
pregnant. Let me refresh you on the facts of life, you have to have sex in order to get—" My
mind drifts back to Draco's birthday party and gasp. "Oh...shit."

Part Five: Two lines

Pansy slams the front door and comes scurrying into Ginny's bedroom with two bags, out of
breath.

"Okay! I got the test. I didn't know which one to get so I got one of each." My mouth drops
as she proceeds to dump at least thirty pregnancy tests on her bed. The second bag has a cute
pair of muggle jeans she saw in the store window she passed and just had to have because
they made her arse look phenomenal.

Ridiculous.

Ginny, who's carrying the second half a gallon of orange juice, stops dead at her door. "Holy
shit, Pansy, did you clean them out?"

"The lady did look at me funny, now that I think about it…I should've confounded her arse,
hmm…"

I can literally see Pansy making a mental note to go back to that drug store and handle
business.

She chuckles, sits the orange juice on her dresser, and picks up the first box, hands it to me,
and points in the direction of her bathroom. "Follow the directions and don't freak out."

It's not like I can, I was freaking out so badly by the time we got home Ginny has to force
some leftover calming potion down my throat and a half a gallon of orange juice as a chaser.
Let me say that I just know this is all really ridiculous and a waste of our time. We could be
sitting in the living room watching television now, laughing. This has to be a summer cold,
seriously. I can't be pregnant. I've just managed to get away from Draco Malfoy for good and
I don't think I should be punished by being pregnant with his child. I'm a good person, damn
it, I follow all the rules, I donate galleons to the poor, I help out the underprivileged any way
I can, I'm a good person.

There's just no way in hell that I can be pregnant.

A gallon of orange juice, seven cups of water, a entire roll of toilet paper, and seventeen
positive tests later leave me sobbing on the floor, face in hands. It's well past midnight and
Ginny is patting my back, while Pansy paces, reading one of the boxes more intensely than
I've ever seen her read anything.

"Oh, come on, not all of these can be positive! It doesn't make sense!" Pansy argues, "No
offense, Hermione, but you can never fully trust these Muggle contraptions

"None taken."

"They're not a hundred percent accurate; they give out false positives all the time. You're
probably not pregnant, this bloody stick is probably the one that has it all wrong…all
seventeen of them."

Ginny is thoughtful for a minute. "Well, there is a magical test we can do. It's completely
accurate."
I look at her hopeful through teary eyes while Pansy scoffs. "Why didn't we do it first?"

"Wasn't thinking about it, sorry." She shrugs. "There are some dream and memory side effects
—"

"To hell with the side effects, let's do it!"

A minute later, after digging Ginny's wand from the discarded pregnancy test boxes, scraps
of papers with directions on them, and just the usual junk, we convene in Ginny's bathroom.
She opens her medicine cabinet and I see a row of the same potion. Merlin, there has to be at
least twenty of them. Blushing, she picks one out and hands it to me.

"Damn, you've got an arsenal of pregnancy test potions in there, Gin…" Pansy comments,
snickering.

Her blush spreads when she mumbles, "Sometimes Harry and I forget...they're for just in
case..."

"Yeah, right, keep on telling yourself that Ginny and maybe one day you'll believe it."

"Shut up, Pans…drink that Hermione."

I open the cap and drink it. It tastes like mud and aluminum.

Pansy taps her foot impatiently, "What do we do now?"

"We wait for five minutes before I say the spell."

So we wait in silence and it's quite possibly the worst and most torturous silence I've ever had
to endure in my life. I've never been on such an edge. My silence is more of an agitated
silence because Pansy insists on tapping her feet and humming a weird sister song I
especially despise. Ginny is staring at her watch.

One minute.

Pansy sighs.
Ginny starts restlessly bouncing her leg.
I pace the length of the bathroom.

Two minutes.

Pansy files her nails.

Ginny stares at herself in the mirror.
I sit in the corner with my head on my knees.

Three minutes.

Pansy checks her face for zits.

Ginny plays with my hair.
I sigh.
Four minutes.

Pansy starts chewing bubble gum.

Ginny massages my shoulders.
I close my eyes.

"Five minutes!" Ginny exclaims. Pansy spits out her gum in the trash, I scramble to my feet.

We stand in the center of the bathroom while she whips out her wand. I'm quite possibly the
most nervous I've ever been, so nervous that I feel a bit lightheaded.

I don't hear the incantation she mutters, but about three seconds later, her wand lights up.

Pink.

I'm confused. "What the hell does that mean?"

Pansy and Ginny exchange looks, Pansy goes pale and Ginny clears her throat. "You're
pregnant."

Everything goes black.

 Three
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Part One:Field of Innocence

August 14th

There are two paths in front of me.

One is colorful, rich with green grass lacing itself into a golden trail of neatly bedded flowers
and trimmed bushes. Trees are everywhere, fruitful and alive. Life. This path is bustling with
life. Rabbits hopping everywhere, squirrels scampering up trees, and birds chirping
harmoniously. The sun is shining, making the golden road sparkle and shine. It's beautiful. It's
tempting. It's perfect. It's everything I could've ever wanted. I smell the fruit from the tress
and it beckons, it calls…

A gust of wind directs my attention to the other path. It's dark, bare, and cold. The trees are
molded and decrepit and nearly falling apart. Death. This path reeks of death and horror. Dirt
and headstones line the path and this incredible and overpowering stench gets into my nose
and settles. There is no sun. There is no sky. There is nothing here to direct my path…still; I
take a step towards it.

"Don't do it," a squirrel whispers in a horrified voice, "Don't take that path. It's hard. Go this
way, it's easier."

I'm far too rational to listen to a talking squirrel, dream or not.

So I opt for the second path because as when I think about it, I realise the dead side, though it
looks terrible now, it will inevitably be better…and it is. There is nothing here to break my
concentration and deep down I do like to take the road less travelled. I don't know what
directs my path, but I walk.

I stumble onto a book. It's my Charms book from first year. I eagerly reach for it and I find
myself standing in the kitchen to my childhood home, school things packed and ready to go
to the platform 9 and ¾ for the first time.

"You have to be the best, Hermione," my dad preaches,"You're not like them; you don't know
as much as they do, this is a disadvantage so you have to be the best. Grangers aim for
nothing short of perfection. Make me and your mum, rest her soul…make us proud."

I've spent my entire life aiming to make my dad proud and somehow, no matter what I do, I
always feel like I fall short. I feel like a disappointment even though I've done so much in my
twenty-one years. You see, it's always been me and dad. My real mum died in childbirth and
he remarried when I was five. I think he blames me sometimes for mum's death…and looking
at me makes him feel sad because I look so much like her…he told me that much when I
turned eighteen. Backing away from the book, I've lost my interest in reading…so I keep
walking, walking away from the memories and the realisation that the relationship between
me and my father has always been on thin ice.

Next, I come across a closed envelope with my name scribbled across the front in familiar
handwriting. I know exactly what it is; it's the letter still sitting on my desk.

But how did it get here?

My hands graze the writing and I'm taken back to the night of Voldemort's demise. I'm
standing in the Astronomy tower with Ron and Harry; the three of us are bruised and beaten,
but smiling triumphantly. The door opens and in walks Ginny with Draco and Pansy, one who
changed sides in secret a while back and the other who came back to fight after wanting no
part in war.

Harry is the first to sigh, "I need a vacation."

One by one, the reserve starts to break and all of us start to laugh, except one, who cracks a
smirk.

Ron is the first to leave, followed quickly by Ginny and Harry, who are hand-in-hand. Pansy
lingers for a moment longer, but sees her reflection and decides that she needs a bath and
makes a beeline to the prefect's bath. Draco and I stand in silence. When we're not fighting,
we're in silence; it's kind of always been like that. But then I feel his fingers, fingers that
graze mine ever so slightly before they grasp my hand gently. I look at him in surprise, but
he's staring straight ahead, poised and serious, as if our hands aren't entwined, as if he doesn't
feel the heat between us.

So I stand there too, for the longest, before he clears his throat.

"Granger," his voice is very solemn.

Startled, I peer up at him. "Yes?"

"You have a spot of dirt on your chin."

I think that was the beginning for…whatever we were.

Two weeks later, the Ministry had control of the dementors. A month later, his parents were
put on trial. A week later, they were found guilty. The next morning, before they could have
the kiss performed, they were both found in their cells, dead. Two weeks later, the Malfoy
manor was torn down. The next year, after a mutual and peaceful breakup with Ron, I
received an owl from Draco after no communication since that night in the Astronomy tower,
offering me a job as a financial analyst. He wanted my help in the horrendous process of
fixing his father's corrupted lending company and would pay me over a hundred thousand
galleons a year, which is an exorbitant amount. Three days later and after heavy deliberation
and Pansy's incessant, "he's paying you how much?" I agreed to the terms.

That agreement brought...whatever we were back from the grave.

I back away from the note, almost regretfully and turn away, almost running away.

I nearly slip over a patch of water, but it still manages to make me fall to my knees.

My knees.

I was on my knees when Draco touched my hand the next time. I'd just walked away from a
fight with a past boyfriend during the company Christmas party. Upset and blind with rage, I
bumped right into him and fell to my knees. Of course, at the time, I didn't know it was him. I
looked up to apologise and found Draco standing there with his hand extended, waiting for
me to take it. It was the most captivating sight I've ever seen and I felt like I was in a trance. I
take his hand slowly and he pulls me to my feet.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes."

We slept together the first time that night. One second we were walking back to rejoin the
party after I assured him I was fine, and the next he was pulling me into one of the
boardrooms, picking me up and putting me on the table, and shagging me for all he was
worth. It was hasty, impetuous, and it was the most liberating experience of my life. The
entire experience was a haze I can't blame on any amount of alcohol, a head-to-toe rush of
feelings that left me wanting more.

He was unlike any other man I'd been with: strong, solid, guarded, and mysterious.

When he touched me, my body lit up.

When we were together, it felt like nothing I'd ever felt before.

And when it was over, my body missed him.

It still, on some level, misses him, even to this day.

Of course we didn't talk about that night. He tried to discuss the topic with me days later, but
I didn't want to hear the word, 'mistake' to come from his lips so I didn't let him say anything.
We had meetings in that boardroom for the next two months and every time, my face was on
fire.

I pull myself to my feet and run away. I don't like this dream anymore.

It makes me think about all these things I haven't thought about in years. It makes me feel all
these feelings I haven't felt in years. And it hurts. It's painful that I feel so intensely for him,
even in the depths of my dreams. I run and run until I can't breathe any longer and I realise
that no matter how long or hard I run, he will always be there. This realization only makes
me run harder.

I run and run until all I see is pink…pink?

Reality comes slowly.

The warm breeze in the room rustles the covers that surrounds me. Cool sheets caress my
skin and I stretch, extending my arms and legs to their fullest before pushing myself up into a
sitting position. Blinking, my eyes slowly roam my bedroom, looking for anything out of
place. There is nothing. I wipe the sleep from my eyes and pop my knuckles. I feel pretty
good, actually. What day is it?

From my bed, I hear maintenance people pruning shrubs, shaving bushes, and mowing the
lawn outside our flat. I hear people chattering as they go through their lives. I hear cars, bells,
whistles, and I close my eyes, relishing in the noises of a normal London Saturday.

And then it's violently interrupted by a knock on my door.

"Why are you knocking?" I hear Pansy's muffled voice outside.

"Because—"

She cuts Ginny off, "Just open the bloody door," and before I can chuckle at their ridiculous
arguing, the door opens and in walks a nicely dressed Pansy Parkinson and Ginny Weasley,
who is still in her pajamas, yawning. When she sees me sitting, they both grin. "You're
awake!"

My eyebrow rises. "Yes I am, thank you for pointing that out."

Pansy sticks her tongue out at me in response.

"How childish," I rub my aching side, making a face when I feel a little pain in my back and
my stomach starts to grumble. I ignore it, but Ginny raises an eyebrow because she hears it.
"I had a bunch of weird dreams last night, but the last one was funny."

Ginny sits on my bed while Pansy goes in my closet, as if she's picking out clothes for me. I
pause for a moment, look at her crazy, and shake my head.

Why bother, that Pansy is a batty one for real.

"What was it about?" Ginny asks curiously as she points her wand at my hair and makes it
smooth down into a neat ponytail. I shoot her a crazy look, what the hell is she doing?

"Well the first few dreams were all these flashbacks in my life, but the second one…it was
hilarious. I threw up after dinner and we came home and I took like seventeen pregnancy tests
and they were all positive." I chuckle, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of this dream,
"So we went to the bathroom and you gave me this potion and did some charm and it glowed
pink and you said I was pregnant for real," by the time I finish, I'm laughing.

Pansy tosses a pair of denims and a shirt on my bed and stares at Ginny with wide eyes,
"What the—"

"I told you all about the dream and memory side effects."

She scoffs, "I mean, you could've been a little more specific, Gin...you didn't say she'd wake
up with—"
Confused and annoyed that neither of them are laughing, I interrupt them with an attitude.
"What the ruddy hell are you going on about?"

Ginny starts calmly patting my hand. "Hermione, that last bit wasn't a dre—"

Pansy cuts her off brashly, "You're knocked up, mate."

I search Ginny's eyes for the longest, hoping to see that twinkle that tells me she's playing a
practical joke on me.

I don't see it. Not at all. She's not kidding.

Nauseated by the news and everything else, I turn my head from Ginny and proceed to be
sick all over the floor.

Pansy squeaks. "Oh, that's just nasty!"

Part Two: There For You

The last time I went to a Muggle doctor was before my dad took me to Morocco right after
the war ended.

I took one good look at the needle they wanted to stick me with and passed out cold. My
step-mum caught me halfway down and we both bumped our heads on the floor. I haven't
been to one since. Until today, that is. I keep more to myself than Harry or Ron, but I'm rather
well-known so we can't go to St. Mungo's-because I work there-or any other wizarding
hospital in the area. I can't go to my family doctor because he's my blabbermouth uncle who
tells his wife everything…who tells my dad everything…and this is a big enough headache as
is.

So, the three of us use our brains and come to a mutual decision that it's best to do this the
muggle way, at least at first.

Coincidentally, Pansy dated a rather dull cardiac surgeon, Peter, who has a brother who is a
general practitioner, who still really fancies her. So she calls him and chats for a few minutes.
A few giggles and a promise to have dinner with him later on tonight and he's swayed to
convince his brother to see me today as a huge favor.

So here I am.

Lying on an inclined table/chair in quite possibly the brightest room I've ever been in, dressed
in a sheet like a mental patient, and highly irritated with everything, I stare at white walls
with a pink and blue pastel butterfly border.

To my left is an ultrasound machine in front of a counter space with a slew of medical

utensils and Pansy who is staring at everything in complete awe. She's never been in a
Muggle doctor's office before and I frequently have to tell her not to touch anything. To my
right stands Ginny. She's quietly looking around, just like me.
The door opens and in walks the doctor.

"Miss. Granger, I'm Dr. Rattan, what brings you here today?"

I'm instantly annoyed with his question. What the hell else would I be in for today? I'm sure
Peter told him everything.

"I took a test and it said I was pregnant."

"From what my brother tells me, you took seventeen tests…"

Ginny puts her hand on my shoulder and squeezes; a non-spoken gesture of support that I
need to stop myself from kicking this man in the face…because I really, really want to. I run
my fingers through my hair in a tired, weary manner, "Yes. Is it necessary that you mention
that?"

"It's just that these tests are fairly accurate and some of them are expensive—"

My fists clench. "Can we please just get on with this?"

"Very well." He turns on the machine and Pansy stares at it in awe. Ginny has to make her
move next to her so the doctor and I can see clearly.

Next, he squeezes icy cool gel that makes me cringe and wince. Thankfully Pansy picks now
to entwine our fingers. Ginny puts her hand on my shoulder. Both for comfort. Both at the
right time. He swirls the instrument on the gel, cuts on the sound, and after a few minutes of
searching, we hear this little swooshing sound. It's faint and I find myself intently staring at
the screen.

"There," he points at the screen of the machine, "There's the amniotic sac," he then moved the
instrument again and points to this distorted amorphous blob…thing that I have to squint my
eyes to see. Ginny moves a little closer and Pansy is just about on the bed with me. "And
that's—"

Of course, Pansy interrupts very brazenly. "What is that sound? It sounds like a sea creature
ready to attack."

The doctor chuckles. "Well, that sound is the heartbeat…and by just looking, I'd say you're
about...most likely eight weeks along, Miss. Granger."

Pansy gasps in shock, Ginny hugs me, and I…well, I do what any new unexpected mother
does…

I cling to my two best friends…and break down in sobs.

"Oh, Hermione, it's going to be okay." Pansy comforts.

For obvious reasons, I don't believe her.

"Don't cry. It's going to be fine." Ginny voice cracks and I know she's close to crying too.
It's really pointless when people tell me not to cry. All it does is make my body shake harder
with sobs. I have every right and reason in the world to cry right now.

My life has taken a completely different route from the one I planned.

The doctor prints out a fuzzy 4-D picture of the baby, makes all the necessary marking on the
picture, and hands it to me to stare at.

The thought of being pregnant does a slew of things to my emotions and my thoughts. It
circles around in my head, confuses me, excites, strangles, suffocates, panics…this, no matter
how unwanted, this is real. Merlin, this really is happening to me. The reality of this situation
hits me so hard. Full-force. I can't breathe. But I don't even notice because if I did, I may ask
for an oxygen mask...or a shock to the heart...or some form of revival.

Let's be real and honest right now, I'm not just pregnant. I'm pregnant by a man who will
probably stare blankly at me when or if I tell him. Or maybe he'll deny that it's his. I can see it
now, clear as day in my head.

"Draco, I'm pregnant and it's yours."

"That's nice…it's not mine, get out."

The thought breaks my heart and makes me cry harder.

"You know," Dr. Rattan interrupts my thoughts in soothing and comforting tones, "I do have
to inform you of your options because you are in the right time-frame to have options, but
you have a week or two to make an appointment and a decision about what you want to do."

Through bleary eyes, I look at him. "A decision?"

I think back to that dream with the two paths; it's eerie that suddenly I now have two paths
before me. Which one should I take?

He turns the machine off and uses a warm towel to wipe the gel off. Then, he proceeds gently
and cautiously, "Yes, you have a decision. You have the right to decide whether or not you
want to keep carry the baby to term or if you wish to terminate the pregnancy."

I know the look I'm wearing now is thoughtful, frightened, and very much confused.

"You don't have to make the decision at this exact moment, but you do need to make it soon."

Still lost in a trance, I nod slowly, wiping the tears from my eyes, "Umm…okay."

"But for right now, I have to treat you like you're keeping it. I'm going to give you a
prescription of three weeks worth of pre-natal vitamins, which should be enough to last you
until you make a decision either way. Take two everyday. I'm going to tell you not to drink
alcohol, smoke cigarettes or anything, no drugs, don't eat sushi. And I'm going to give you
the number to a nice abortion clinic, if you decide to take that path. Tell them that I sent you."

Quickly, he writes the prescription, hands me a few pamphlets on pregnancy and abortion.
With a wish of good luck, he leaves and holds the door open for Ginny and Pansy to leave me
while I dress.

After dressing, I stand in that spot, staring at the ultrasound picture while tears cascade down
my cheeks. That is, until Ginny sticks her head back in.

"Are you alright?" her voice is oddly meek.

Sounding about as drained as I feel, I respond. "As okay as I can be right now."

"Pansy called Peter and they left to go and pick up the prescription because she doesn't know
how, they should be back in a few."

I sigh, "Okay."

"It's going to be okay, you know. This may seem like the end of the world, but it's not."

"Sure does feel like it."

Ginny comes in and hugs me tight and more tears fall as I embrace her back. "No matter what
you decide to do, no matter what happens, I just want you to know that, Pansy and I, we're
here for you. Luna, too."

"You're damn right, we are, don't you ever forget that," Pansy's audacious voice rings out
from the doorway,

We look over, and there she is, prescription bag in hand. Next to her is Peter, who looks like a
TV doctor because he's so attractive. He shrinks back and gives us a few moments alone.
Smart move.

She's smiling brightly. "Well, well…this looks like a fine moment for a group hug." She runs
over to throw her arms around us both, making us laugh, "I love you guys, but sadly," she
whispers her next words in a tone we can only hear, "I have a dinner date with mister boring
Peter and I need a new dress. You're lucky I love you, Hermione."

This certainly does make me feel better.

Part Three: Down

It's going to rain.

From the window behind Ginny's head, I see blue skies begin to darken and puffy white
clouds turn a threatening shade of grey. She canceled her lunch date with Anthony to spend
the afternoon with me and even though I protest, I really appreciate it. I don't think I need to
be alone.

After a meal and my first dose of vitamins, I feel a little bit better and after sitting in on
Ginny's short Quidditch practice, we get massages from a little spa that makes me almost feel
like a whole person again. Now, we're sitting in this organic restaurant just outside London;
she's munching on a salad because she's trying to drop a few pounds for Quidditch and I'm
picking around the edges of a grilled chicken sandwich.

We haven't spoken much since leaving the doctor's office; my mind has been all over the
place. Everything is at a standstill, it seems. I keep thinking about those paths and which one
I should take. Should I take the easy way out or the make the hardest decision of my life?
Easy is starting to look better and better with every passing minute.

The restaurant, lit by solar power, grows slightly darker as the sky does. It's probably time to
go so I ask the waitress for a box to go and our check. "So, I think I'm closer to making a
decision." I speak up when our waitress walks away after delivering the check.

Curiously, Ginny pays with Muggle cash and looks up at me, "About?"

"I'm thinking that I may not keep it. I don't completely know yet, but that's my gut feeling. I
shouldn't."

The heavens rumble just before they seem to open and torrential rain starts to fall,
accompanied by a bolt of lightning.

She says nothing for a few minutes, startled by the storm. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I am. It may be selfish, I know that I should just keep it and make the best of a bad
situation, but I don't think I can do it. I'm finally free, Ginny. I'm back in control of my life. I
don't think I can look at this baby and not be a tad resentful and that's not fair, not to this baby
and not to anyone in this situation."

Ginny takes a sip of her water. "Are you going to tell Draco?"

I pull a piece of lettuce from my sandwich and eat it, before replying honestly. "Gin, I really
hadn't planned on it."

For the first time since we've known each other, Ginny criticizes me. "Hermione, this baby is
just as much his as yours; he has a right to know."

Her disapproval hits me where it hurts and I don't know if the pain is from heartburn or from
the truth.

Still my name is still Hermione Granger…and I'm stubborn. "But it's in my body."

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, "That's not fair, Hermione, and you know it."

Shit. She's right. Shit. shit. She's right and I know she is. I can't deny it. I know I have to tell
him. It's the right thing to do and clearly I love torturing myself…okay, so I'm being
dramatic, which is not me, but there is this little voice inside me that reprimands even the
thought of not telling Draco about this pregnancy. Ginny just gave that voice a face. I don't
think I could go through something like this and not tell him. But how do I walk up to a man
I slapped the hell out of a few days ago and tell him I'm pregnant and considering the thought
of giving up his baby without starting a fight and possibly a war?
With any other man I'd know what to do, but not with Draco Malfoy.

Taking a deep breath. "Ginny…what do I do?"

"Owl him, Hermione. Give him our address and let him Floo over. Sit him down and just tell
him. I'll make myself scarce. I'll call one of the guys and get them to take me out or
something."

"He's probably going to walk out."

"But at least he'll know. And then it'll help you make the right decision."

I snort, very unconvinced.

"Or," she starts to rise from her chair and I follow suit. "He may want to keep it. You never
know."

I laugh. "I've got a better chance getting struck by lightning."

I expect Ginny to laugh, but instead she's looking past me.

Turning my head, all I see is a black belt, trousers, and a black shirt. My eyes drift upwards
and standing there is the very out-of-place Theodore Nott. "Hermione Granger," he greets me
with a nod, then his eyes shift across the table, "Ginevra Weasley."

"It's Ginny," and she's tense.

Ignoring her attitude, I paste a smile on my face. I'm still pretty shocked to see him here.
"Umm…what are you doing here, Nott?"

"I eat here all the time. I'm over there." He points to an empty table across the restaurant with
a water glass. He clears his throat and proceeds, "I was wondering if you two would like to
join me?"

"Sorry," Ginny replies in a cold voice she only reserves for Harry these days, "We're about to
leave."

His face falls slightly, "Oh…oh, that's fine." He nods and quickly walks away…he almost
breaks into a temperate run.

Amazed and trying not to laugh, we sit in silence for a full minute before Ginny remarks,
"Well, that was awkward."

I cover my mouth when I giggle.

Part Four: You

August 15th
I took the day off trying to prepare for tonight.

This morning, with Pansy standing over me helping me put my thoughts on paper. I write the
letter and she sends it off by owl. I'm too sick to do it myself. It takes two hours to receive a
response, saying that despite the fact that he has a meeting, he will be arriving by Floo at 8:30
sharp…and if there's just one thing I know about Draco Malfoy, it's that he's extremely
punctual and hates it when people are late.

So, now it's 8:20. The Floo is open. The rain hasn't let up.

And now I've been baking everything in sight all day.

Chocolate chip cookies. Peanut butter cookies. Sugar cookies…with icing and sprinkles.

White chocolate cookies. Oatmeal raisin cookies. M&M cookies. Walnut cookies. Peanut
brittle.

Cashew brittle. Almond brittle. Fudge. Brownies. Walnut brownies. Double fudge brownies.

Cheesecake. Strawberry cheesecake. Key lime pie. Apple pie. Cherry pie. Pecan pie.

As I stir, dramatically, I think of some freak accident happening and Draco can't get here…
and that makes me stir more vigorous, trying to push the thoughts away, but they never leave.
I think about him standing me up. I think about being stuck here all night, waiting and baking
and seriously panicking while he sits in his mansion, reading a good book and drinking his
wine, laughing at me. What the hell does it matter? I still don't know what I'm going to say.

I've tried writing it down, making a list of things I need to say, but the words won't come.
Nothing comes. I've never been more frightened in my life: not in front of Dementors,
Voldemort, Snape at his finest, Death Eaters at their worst, a hungry Nagini, Umbridge at her
pinnacle…nothing has provoked such a fear in me as telling Draco Malfoy that I'm pregnant
and possibly not keeping it.

Rain rolls down the windowpane in fat, fluctuating drop, tripping over dry spots and making
that loud clattering noise that I find particularly bothersome.

I'm about to put up a silencing charm, but then something happens.

An owl flies in through the open window and drops a letter at my feet. Quickly, I tear it open
and read it:

Hermione.

I'm a little behind schedule, but I still will arrive at eight-thirty sharp.

Draco Malfoy.

I check my watch.

8:29…I think I'm going to be sick.

 My heart just about stops when Draco steps out the fireplace, dressed in all black and face as
serious as ever.

This is not going to be easy.

"Hermione," he greets with a short nod.

"Draco," I greet back, but my voice cracks, "Would you like some tea?"

Regarding me with a curious stare, he pauses for a moment before replying. "No thanks…"
He sniffs the air and I identify a hint of humor in his voice, "Why does your house smell like
a bakery?"

"Did a bit of light baking while I was home," I gesture to the couch with a plate of cookies on
the coffee table. "Please, make yourself at home." I feel a little faint and grab the arm of the
couch for support.

He sits and I reach for a cookie, freezing when he says. "You look pale."

"I'm a bit tired."

"Would you like me to—"

"No, I, uh," I take a breath, "I wanted to apologise for slapping you. It was really uncalled for
and completely uncharacteristic of me."

I see a barely-there smirk on his face, "Well, not really…"

"That was Third Year, Draco."

He shrugs. "It was still memorable. Blaise still talks about it. He saw the bruise after all."

I chuckle.

"Did you ask me over here to apologise? Because of you did, it was completely unnecessary.
I provoked you."

"True, but that's not why I asked you over," I sigh and take a deep breath, closing my eyes for
just a moment. It's now or never.

So I blurt it out. "Draco, I called you over here to tell you that I'm pregnant."

Silence of a tomb washes over us. I wait in anticipation of his answer while he busies himself
with everything from making sure the bowl is aligned perfectly with the candles to making
sure he has no lint fragments on his clothes.

He stares at me intently before replying, "Okay…that sounds like a personal problem."

Chapter End Notes

Don't flame me about the abortion topic, it's a real choice pregnant women have to face
every single day, whether you agree or not, it's real.
 Four

Part One: Only One

"Okay…well, that sounds like a personal problem."

Those words flash in my head over and over.

Like neon lights.

"You know, Draco," I speak with a clenched jaw and blood that seems to be cooking to a nice
boil, "I figured you'd say something like that," I stand straight, shaking my head, trying to
calm myself, albeit pretty unsuccessfully, "I don't even know why I even wasted my breath to
tell you."

He looks at me as if he's looking at me for the very first time. "Wait, it's mine?"

"No, it's an immaculate conception," I retort sarcastically. "Of course it's yours, you dolt!" I
pull the ultrasound picture from my pocket. I've looked at it at least a couple thousand times,
so much the edges are creased, but I glance at it for a moment and toss it at him dismissively.
He's lucky I'm throwing a picture at him and not this platter of chocolate chip cookies...or an
unforgivable, which is really what I want to throw right now. "It's yours."

Draco stares at the picture, much like I did when Dr. Rattan handed it to me. It's nearly two
inches from his face and his eyes almost cross to see the magnified blob that is our baby in
the center. His eyes remain on the picture and slowly the stern look on his face melts into one
I've never seen before. It's one of awe, incredulity, and…wait just a moment, fear.

Fear.

I didn't realise that fear is an emotion typical of a Malfoy.

Of course, he's had moments of fear, but not around me.

He's always been a tower of strength and nerve.

Right now he looks like a deer in headlights.

Moments later, the mask and the guard go right back up and he's back to making sure
everything on the coffee table is perfectly placed and organized.

I feel my blood pressure steadily rise and my cheeks flush from the heat of my rage.

Draco picks now to speak, but his voice sounds oddly strangled, "Are you sure this is mine?"

"Yes. It's yours," I rub my aching head, very sensitive all of a sudden, my voice breaks just a
little, "You're the only one I've been with, Draco. I'm not some slag that sleeps around with
every man I come into contact with." I shake my head sadly, eyes watering. "You know what?
It doesn't even matter what you say…I've decided not to keep it."

Apparently that makes him lean forward in his seat, picture still in hand, and voice flat,
"You're not keeping it?"

Looking down, I rest my hand on my flat stomach and use my free hand to wipe my eyes.

I'm lying through my teeth right now and I don't know why, "No."

"Why not?"

"Don't act like you give a shit, Draco. It's a mistake. Just like that night was, just like every
other encounter before that night was."

He glances down at the picture before meeting my eyes. "You really believe that?"

"I don't know where I stand with you…I never have. And you've done nothing to prove
otherwise."

His words are so intense I almost choke on them. "And you never let me try to tell you where
I stand with you so don't sit here and play the bloody victim."

I'm desperately trying not to scream and cry in front of him. "Look," I start, voice dejected,
"I'm tired, I'm cranky, I've been baking all fucking day, and I don't want to argue with you
tonight. I don't know. This is a huge decision for me." Positioned just in front of the coffee
table, I rub my temple in a circular motion just like Pansy advises, "I was just trying to be a
good person and let you know, and that's all. I felt obligated to tell you and now that I did, I
don't know why I even wasted my breath and your time, I'm gonna kick Ginny's—"

"Well, does my opinion matter? I am the father, after all."

"Actually, it doesn't, not to me, not now. I've heard enough of your opinions to last me a
lifetime. This is my body and I'll do with it whatever the hell I want. I don't want to bring a
baby up in…whatever the hell this is. I just don't. It's just not fair to it, you, or me."

He stands up slowly, still holding the ultrasound in his hand, "Just—"

"Why are you fighting this so hard, Draco?" I'm frustrated and all I want to do is yell. "This is
my personal problem, according to you."

He looks down at the picture. "I admit that wasn't the best reaction..."

"You always know just what to say to make me feel so small," I mumble angrily. "But thanks
for having that reaction, Draco, it makes it slightly easier to make my mind up."

Silence falls between us.

I find myself staring out a window next to the fireplace and he's still staring at the ultrasound
like Ginny and Ron study Quidditch books. I want to pull my hair out and scream, "It's just a
4-D blob on a film," but I can't formulate the words, I'm so tired. So now, I look out the
window, watch the rain, and sigh, because looking at him will make the tears start up, and it's
so much easier to watch the clouds.

Twelve minutes later, I'm still glaring at the rain.

Maybe if I hadn't gone. Maybe if I'd just stayed with the dry and condescending Theodore
Nott. Maybe…it doesn't matter anymore.

I can blame anything, I can blame anyone, I can ask "what if?", but it's all in the past. This is
now.

Glancing over my shoulder, I observe him for a full minute while he tidies the end table for a
few seconds and stares at the picture for a few seconds, methodically switching between the
two. I turn away. I really hate it when he does that. All the arranging and organizing. Maybe
he does it to keep from going insane, maybe it's one of his nervous habits, maybe he's
obsessive-compulsive, I don't know. I just know that he's so pristine and perfect and
methodological…it's annoying.

And now, staring at the rain, I'm not sure whether I'm annoyed with his habit, or whether I'm
just annoyed with him.

I'm just fucking annoyed.

"Hermione…" Draco breaks the silence.

I turn around and he's staring at the ultrasound. "What?"

Another pause, he takes a breath and looks up, determined. "I want this baby."

Did he just say—of course, he didn't—right? I just blink at him, stunned. "Did you say you
want this baby?"

"Yes, I've been thinking about it and I do. I'm willing to do anything to change your mind."

"I don't understand, Draco. Help me understand why all of a sudden you want this baby."

He looks at me, a bit angered, "I never said I didn't want it. You just assumed."

"Wanting to take responsibility for your actions isn't something you're known for."

"Just like you're not known for being very upfront." He shot back with heat behind his words/

My temper spikes, just like that. "Upfront? I'm—"

"You're the most guarded person I know." Draco replies in matter-of-fact tones.

I fold my arms and huff stubbornly. "Funny you should say that, I say the exact same thing
about you."
"Let's not get off topic, Granger. I want to be a father to this baby. I don't want you to get rid
of it just because you hate me. This baby deserves a chance."

We fall into another tense silence.

My head throbs from the tears of frustration building behind my eyelids and Draco is
standing there, calm and gazing down at that bloody picture. I really want to choke him until
he passes out. This mature, arrogant, responsible, look-at-me-I-want-to-be a-father persona,
yes, Draco, this really works. Really well. Thank you very much, Draco…I feel like a giant
guilty arse about this entire situation.

Exhausted and ready to break down in tears. "It's not going to fix anything."

"I beg to differ," and he sounds strangely honest. "After all, it may very well be the only child
I have."

"Please," I scoff. "I'm sure you have plenty of witches who are ready and willing to have the
next Malfoy heir."

That's like stepping on the trigger that detonates a bomb. All goes from tense to fucking
impossible. With the 4-D picture in his hand, he fires a look at me that could melt cinder
block and probably would. His voice raises several decibels. "I don't know who the fuck you
think I am, Granger, but I'll tell you something. I'm not some bloody man-whore who sleeps
around with filth."

Of course, I'm right there, arguing back. "And I'm not exactly a Pureblood, Malfoy. In case
years of working for you have brought about a sudden bout of amnesia, let me introduce
myself to you. My name is Hermione Granger and I'm a Muggle-Born witch. This baby I'm
carrying, it's a Half-Blood. According to you and the Malfoy doctrine, me and this baby, we
represent the very filth you disdain. And I represent the filth you claim not to sleep around
with, but you do, and you did, every fucking chance you got."

For a second, I really think he's going to strangle me, his hands are flexed and everything. He
storms across the living room and the next thing I know, I'm staring up at him defiantly.
Seizing me by the shoulders, Draco speaks with a level of anger that I've never seen.
"Pureblood, Half-Blood, Muggle-Born, I've made it obvious that it doesn't mean a fucking
thing to me. I fought in that fucking war, I fought against the very doctrine I swore to uphold,
and I fought for the rights and the freedom for everyone."

True.

But I still push his hands off me. "W—"

"And do you honestly think that if I thought of you as filth that I would hire you, pay you
more than the goddamn Minister of Magic, and put you in charge of over half of my
company and its all its activities?"

I try again to get a word in edgewise, "D—"

"I hired you because you're Hermione Granger, everything you fucking touch turns to gold,
and you get things done. And you know what, I did adhere to one Malfoy rule when I
pursued and seduced you all those times. One: Malfoys deserve the best. You're not filth.
Even my father thought so, Muggle-Born or not, he always said you were the best…and you
are. And this baby will be the best, too."

"Is that all you fucking care about, Draco? Being the be-"

"No! That doesn't matter. I don't want this baby just because it will be the best; I want this
baby because we made it together and I don't want you to throw it away like garbage. I don't
consider us or anything between us garbage, Hermione."

What. The. Fuck?

Those are probably the words I can use to describe how I feel right now, but the truth is there
are many other words and emotions running around in my head that I can't quite describe. I'm
so overwhelmed by his words, so struck I can barely breathe. All I can do is stand here and
let his words repeat over and over in my head, like a broken record.

Because we made it together? We're not garbage? I meant something to him?

It's quiet when he finishes ranting, except for his rapid breathing and my shaky sighs.

"What do you mean by that?" I stammer, trying to find my ground.

"It doesn't matter what I fucking mean," Draco spits coldly, "You've made your goddamn
mind up about me when you didn't read the letter and now you've made up your goddamn
mind about-"

"You can't just say something like that and not tell me what it means!" I yell at home.

"You're the brightest witch of our generation, you figure that shit out. I'm done trying to get
you to understand how I feel about you. I'm done."

Tears blur my vision. "I don't want to figure it out, fuck, Draco, just tell me!"

He says nothing, just turns away from me; the ultimate sign of rejection. Still, I find myself
quickly studying the angry man standing less than two metres in front of me, scrutinising
every single thing about him. I come to the conclusion that Draco isn't the man I thought I
knew. It suddenly strikes me how I don't know shit about him. He's a stranger to me.

"Draco, I—" somehow, I manage to find my voice through the unshed tears, but he doesn't let
me say anymore.

With the picture in his hand, he storms towards the fireplace, leaving me to sit here and
wonder just how everything turned out this way. I don't know what he's mad abput. I should
be the angry one. Nothing about tonight went the way I thought it would go. He was
supposed to sneer and deny paternity; this was supposed to be an easy one-sided decision…

And just like that, just like everything, it's all complicated and fucked up.
Now I don't know left from right, up from down, it's all spinning and I can't hold on.

The dam breaks and I find myself shaking with sobs.

"Why?" I speak in a broken voice, tears pouring, "Why can't you just be honest with me?"

Just when he's about to grab some Floo powder and step into the fireplace, Draco freezes and
turns around, still very much heated and livid as ever, "I was honest with you, but you didn't
want to read the letter! But fine! You want honesty? Fine." He pauses and stares at me,
speaking his next words with such intense anger, "I don't even know why the fuck I'm telling
you this, but let me be very clear about something tonight, Granger: you're the only women
I've ever wanted. Just you. It's always been you."

Draco steps in the fireplace, drops the Floo powder, and disappears in a burst of green flames.

When Ginny comes home an hour later, she finds me on the floor…dissolved in tears.

Part Two: Miscommunication

August 16th

Reality sinks in and I finally accept the truth about everything.

I was wrong about Draco. I was blind and stupid and I feel horrible.

Merlin, I spent so much time wanting to be something more to him and wanting to provoke
something deeper in him. I spent over two years wishing my name invoked emotions in
him…and it does. It always has…and I didn't realise I already was important to him. But this
miscommunication isn't something I plan to take the blame for, it's both of our faults.

I didn't give him a chance, I didn't listen to all the things he didn't say, and I ignored all the
things he did say. I just held it all in until I decided to change my life to spite him.

But Draco didn't try, didn't drop his guard low enough to let me in, and didn't convey…well,
any of his feelings. He just held it all in until he combusted.

It may be the crazy hormones or the actual distress I feel, but I begin to cry, which turns into
heavy sobs within seconds. I can barely breathe as my back arches and sinks with every
labored cry. I'm in pain, and for some unknown reason, I wish for more pain, I want to make
myself hurt so I stop thinking about Draco and his damn words. I want to make the picture of
him disappear from my mind. I cry until my lungs hurt, my fingers cramp, and my back
aches.

"Shh," From the chair beside my bed, Ginny's comforting voice placates my sobs,
diminishing them into small hiccupping sighs. She's been there all night just about, listening
to me rant and cry. "Calm down," she brushes my hair out my tear-stained face, "It's going to
be okay."

I really want to believe her, but I feel hopeless.

Wiping my eyes, I sigh and get out of bed and stand at my desk, staring at the letter Draco
sent two months ago.

I gnaw at my fingernails, wanting to reach for it, open it, and read it, but I'm suddenly a
coward.

My door makes a creaking sound when Pansy opens it. She just got Ginny's message and
rushed from her mother's first chance she got to see me. She rushes over to me and throws
her arms around me. I cling to her tightly for a few minutes before pulling away.

"Wait until I get my hands—"

Resting my hand on her shoulder to stop her, I interrupt, "He wants the baby…and apparently
me too…or at least he did."

Pansy's face goes pale and her mouth drops in shock.

"I know," I chuckle ruefully, "I looked like you did when he told me."

Her voice is shaky, "What are you going to do?"

"I honestly don't know. This is hard. Part of me is thinking, forget him and everything else
and have this baby on my own, and the other part is thinking, why bother? My head is
messed up, but my heart…" I trail off, tearing up.

She's nodding when her eyes catch the letter. Immediately, she recognizes the handwriting,
"Have you opened it?"

"I don't think I can, it's been here six weeks, but now it feels like the right time to read it."
Ginny joins us at the desk and I look at her, "You read it, Gin."

"But—"

"Please, I can't do it."

Reluctantly, she sighs, picks up the letter, and opens it, pulling out the parchment slowly and
unfolding it…

Hermione,

I'm sure hours, days, weeks, and maybe even months will pass by before you read this, but if
you are reading this I know that either your curiosity or better sense has gotten the best of
your stubbornness…or we got into a huge row. I do not always articulate my feelings and I
do not always say the right things at the right time and for that, I apologise. It is not in my
nature to express my feelings verbally or be wax sentimental, but I think you should know that
you are not a standby woman, you never have been, not to me, and I apologise if I ever made
you feel as such. It was not my intention to make you feel less worthy than you actually are.
You actually mean a lot to me, but I've never known where I stand with you. I think that we
should start over and try again, maybe this time we can be honest with each other. If you
want to contact me, you know where I am.
Draco Malfoy.

We're silent for what seems like hours.

I think we've all read the letter about six times apiece as if we're going to find all the secrets
he wrote between the lines…and I'm not in the mood for any of this. Everytime I read his
letter, I feel like the world's biggest git for not reading it earlier. And then I feel like a moron
for talking to him the way I did last night. And then I feel stupid and mean. I feel like a bitch
and my head hurts, my heart hurts, my stomach hurts. I just need to get my mind off all this.

So I get up. "I'm going to work."

Ginny sighs. "Her—"

"I need to get out of this house. It's driving me bloody bonkers."

Pansy speaks up, placing the letter back on the desk, "Do you feel well enough?"

"No, but I'll be fine."

Ginny takes one hard look at me, "Well, I'll fix some breakfast—"

"—and I'll go in with you. Take your vitamins."

I nod. I really do have some of the best friends.

Six hours later and once again, I'm sighing and running a hand through my hair. I'm fine. I
have to believe that I'm fine and as long as I can believe that everything else is okay, or at
least it will be. It has to be. I don't have any other options.

It's been a busy day for me and coming to work is one of the best decisions I've made thus
far.

Lots of patients, lots of emergencies, and a few hurt Quidditch players…all that should equal
no time to think.

And it does, sometimes.

I feel like the busiest woman in the world and still I feel like I have too much time to think
about him and this baby and everything.

In the seconds I wait in the elevator, my mind drifts back to the argument in front of the
fireplace. In the twenty minutes I sip on my tea and wait for the ever-late Pansy Parkinson, I
think back to the day I slapped him. I'm sitting next to the very table where it happened. In
the hour I have for break, my mind drifts to the picture of the ultrasound he took with him. I
didn't need it anyway. I've practically memorized every feature of it.

No matter what I do, it seems he is always prevalent in my thoughts. I'm in a different part of
the hospital every hour and still, I can't escape the memories…
I'm checking up on the permanent patient when I bump into something or someone, hard.

Startled, I look up and there is Theodore Nott.

I plaster a smile to my face. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Yes, I was visiting my uncle. Do you work here?"

"Yes, as a Healer in the damage ward."

He mumbles, "Always thought you could do better."

Offended and aggravated and hormonal, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Being a
Healer is a very rewarding and important job. If it weren't for me—"

"I just meant that I always pictured you as a dedicated Ministry worker."

"I've never worked in the Ministry, and to be honest, I never want to. I'll leave that to Harry."

"Oh, so you two are still friends?"

"Yes, of course, we're the best of friends still, even though so much has happened. Ron too," I
feel myself getting a bit emotional at the thought of my boys. Damn pregnancy. I feel my
eyes mist and I fan them repeatedly as I think about everything. I don't see them as much
because we're all busy, but when we do see each other, it's like we've never been apart. Harry
and Ginny's separation makes things a little more tense, but all in all, I'm not choosing sides
and I'm not choosing between them. Ginny is important to me, as is Harry.

"Are you alright?"

I wipe my eyes, "Yes, just a bit tired."

…and pregnant.

He steps closer and his cologne makes me want to vomit, "Would you like to go for coffee or
something?"

"Sorry, I can't. I'm on rounds for the rest of my shift."

…and I don't want to get belittled again, thank you very much.

A flash of disappointment streaks across his face, "Oh, well…would you like to go to
dinner?"

"Again, sorry, my mates and I usually go to dinner together. It's sort of tradition."

…that we're not doing tonight because Pansy and Ginny have dates and I have an
appointment with my bed.

"I understand," Another streak of disappointment passes over his face. "Well, what about
Friday?"
I think for a moment on how to get out of this one as well and it flashes in my head, "I'm on
call all night."

…which is a total lie.

He looks a little offended. "I'm beginning to think you're making up excuses."

"Now why would I do a thing like that?" I ask innocently, lying through my teeth, "I'm a very
busy woman and all."

"I see." But it doesn't look like he believes me.

His words confuse me. "Why are you interested in spending time with me anyway?" I ask,
folding my arms.

"You're easy to talk to, you listen."

…that's all I can do with you because you make no attempts to hide that you don't care
enough to listen to me.

I check my watch, I still have four minutes until I have to see my next patient, but I have to
get away, now, "I'm sorry, I have to go see a patient. I'll see you around…" I give him one
fleeting smile and head down the hall, almost running.

Part Three: Dinner

August 21st

Ginny invites Susan Bones and Katie Bell over for dinner after an especially rigorous
Quidditch practice.

We're all pretty good friends so with my newfound energy, I decide to cook. Pansy nearly
chokes when I tell her I plan to cook, but she's being dramatic, as usual. While Ginny gives
them the tour of our flat, Pansy and I chop vegetables for the vegetable fried rice dish I'm
making. Every now and then, she'll peek into the oven to get a look at the chicken.

Satisfied, she goes back to chopping.

Pansy picks up another bell pepper, "How are you today?"

"Alright…except that I threw up in a patient's flower vase this morning, but I cleaned it up
before anyone noticed."

"Oh, that's just gross!" Pansy exclaims, blanching.

"I couldn't help it," I chuckle at the memory, "It was either the vase or the patient."

Pansy laughs and uses her wand to start boiling the rice. When she leans over my shoulder,
she asks, "Have you made your mind up yet?"
I shrug. "Not totally. Heart says keep it, head says no."

Thankfully, she changes the subject, "I talked to Blaise today."

My ears perk up at the very mention of Draco's best friend, but my response is very dull. "Oh,
really? How is he?"

"Oh, he's fine…Draco on the other hand—"

Looking at her, I raise an eyebrow, "What about him?"

Pansy doesn't look at me, instead she's busy chopping vegetables as she talks, "He's not in a
good mood. He fired some girl who tried to flirt with him and he refuses to hire anyone to
take your place so he's working extra hard trying to do both your old job and his. Blaise says
it's just a mess, not the business, him. Draco told him…about the baby. Showed him the
picture and everything. Kind of looked proud about it. Blaise says he really wants you to
keep this baby, Hermione."

To be honest, I'm really surprised.

He isn't the type to misplace anger, he isn't the type to open up to his friends, and he's not the
type to lose his cool over too much of anything. But he lost his cool all over my living room
too, so I suppose I can't put too much past him these days. I knew he was upset about it, but I
didn't expect him to run and tell Blaise. I'm really so stunned about all this that I don't even
respond to anything.

I just keep chopping peppers and onions...and change the subject, "I read all the pamphlets
the doctor gave me, I also went to the library, I've done research on both alternatives…and
yes, I told Draco I made my decision, I wish I wouldn't have, but I was so angry at him."

"Well, I'm sure you'll make the right decision."

A voice speaks up from the doorway, "The right decision about what?"

I look over my shoulder at Katie and toss her a smile, quickly replying, "About whether to
have ice-cream or cookies for dessert."

Katie looks at me disbelievingly for a moment before setting a smile on her face, walking in,
and looking around the kitchen and peering over our shoulders to see what we're doing,
"Well, cookies with ice-cream sound good to me…do you all need some help?"

"Don't let her near that stove!" Ginny hollers from the other room and in a flash both her and
Susan are standing in the doorway, "That's my only advice; don't let her near the stove."

My eyebrow rises, "Is there something I should know about Katie and stoves?" I wipe my
hands with a dish towel.

Katie glares at a smirking Ginny and Susan who is silently shaking her head, before
stubbornly replying, "No!"
I try again. "Umm…Kate?"

"It was a very small fire."

"Oh, I see," I look around at all the food and then back down to what I'm doing, "How are
you at slicing vegetables for the fried rice?" I move away to offer the job to her. Ginny nods
in approval and Susan smiles.

"I think I can handle a little slicing…" Katie blushes, "Oh, and thanks for not asking about
the fire."

I smile. "Not a problem."

Of course, the brash Pansy smirks, "Well, if she won't, I will. What happened with the fire,
Kate?"

"There was a pan, popping grease, a hamburger, and lots of flames," she slowly shakes her
head as if traumatized by the very memory, "It was really ugly."

"We know," Ginny smiles and gestures to her and Susan, "We were there."

I burst out laughing. Feels kind of good to laugh about something because all I've been doing
lately is crying.

We sit down for dinner twenty minutes later. While they all chatter on and drink their wine, I
nibble on vegetable fried rice and chicken, drinking decaffeinated sweet tea.

"How was Parvati's party last night?" Ginny asks Susan, sipping on her wine.

We all were invited, but I wasn't feeling well enough, Ginny flat out didn't want to go, and
Pansy was out on a date. Katie, apparently, didn't attend as well. I think what surprises me
most is that Susan went. She's always been a bit of a quiet, slightly emotional wallflower,
even in school. Over the years, we come to expect that at any social function, we can find
Susan posted against the wall, observing everyone and shying away when any man asks her
for a dance or anything.

"Nothing bad," Susan assures, "I even danced."

All our expressions are ones of pure shock, but Pansy's voice rings out amongst all our gasps,
"You didn't?"

Pleased by our surprise, she nods eagerly, "I'm not kidding. I was just as shock as you all
when he asked me to dance. Well, he didn't exactly ask. It was more of a statement." Susan is
unabashedly giddy; wanting us to know every detail of last night, "He was all arrogant and
that, like he knew he wouldn't have to ask me to dance, that I'd just simply fall into his arms
or something. And, oh, Merlin, when he put his hands on my hips to help me. I was on cloud
nine!"

Katie holds up her hands, "Hold on for a bloody second, mate! Who is he? And what do you
mean he put his hands on your hips? Was he being fresh?" She says the last question
teasingly, happy for her friend.

"Haha, I wish," Susan laugh, "I'd probably die of a heart attack if he did—"

Exasperated, Ginny throws her hands up, "Who?"

She grins. "Dean Thomas."

If we aren't shocked before, we're completely stunned now. Ginny looks confused. Katie's
eyes are popping out her head. Pansy's gulping her wine.

My jaw is practically in my plate, "Pretty boy, Dean Thomas? Ginny's ex-boyfriend, Dean
Thomas? Are you serious?"

Susan nods, "He was talking to Ron and Seamus, looked over at me, walked over, and asked
me if I wanted to dance."

"Wow."

"Yeah, a lot of people from Hogwarts came. Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Michael Corner,
Cho Chang, Justin-Finch Fletchley, Lee Jordan, Harry and Ron were there too—"

Ginny tenses, but it goes unnoticed by anyone except me.

"—and Draco Malfoy was there too—"

This time I tense.

"What was he doing there? He hates parties." Pansy remarks, looking confused.

"I saw him. He looked around for a second, talked to Blaise for a moment, and left. It was
really odd."

"Yes," Pansy glances at me from across the table, "Very…almost like he was looking for
someone?"

I kick her very sharply and she winces, pouts, and glares.

Susan snaps her fingers, "As a matter of fact, yes, he was."

I grimace when I meet Pansy's gaze. Our eyes lock, she smirks evilly, I look down at my
plate. I don't know where she's going with this and I don't want to find out. I aim to kick her
again, but I miss and give up, drink my water, and make sure I send a plethora of threatening
daggers to Pansy with my eyes.

Katie smiles and after a few minutes of silence, she turns her attention to me, "Hermione,
how far along are you?"

I spew water all over my plate…and Pansy's too.

Susan gasps.
Ginny laughs.

Katie smirks.

Pansy literally jumped from her chair, "What the hell, Hermione! I was eating that!"

I'm blushing and coughing to the point of choking. "Sorry Pans," She gives off a humorous
huff and takes our plates to the kitchen while Ginny pats my back until I catch my breath and
I smile shyly at Katie who's regarding me with a curious look, "I'm not—"

"Oh, bollocks, you are. I can tell."

"How can you—"

"My sister has seven kids. I can tell, even before anyone else can. You're drinking
decaffeinated tea instead of wine, you're picking at your food, you hate Susan's perfume that
you claimed to love three months ago, and you're kind of glowing…"

Well, I'll be— "Over nine weeks, I think."

Susan gasps, "Hermione, you're really pregnant? Wow, that's great! Congratulations!"

"Thanks, but I'm not sure if I'm keeping it."

"Why not?" asks a horrified Susan Bones.

"Loads of reasons. I have another week or two to make a decision."

"What does the father think?"

"He wants to keep it," I reply numbly. "Or he did the last time I talked to him."

"That's good, right? Who is he?"

Pansy walks back in the room on this and sits down, wringing her hands innocently. Ginny
and I exchange looks before I answer, "I'd rather not say…to be honest. I really don't want
this to get out, in case I decide not to keep it."

"We can keep it a secret, right? We can do an Unbreakable Vow, if you want."

My eyebrow rises. Well, that's a bit serious. "That won't be necessary."

"We promise not to tell, right Kate?"

She raises her hand and puts it on her heart, "I swear."

"You two can't tell a soul," I watch them nod their head. I take a deep breath and just blurt it
out, "Draco Malfoy."

The sound of Susan's wine glass shattering against the floor echoes in my ear.
Once they recover from shock, they have a million questions for me.

Are we dating?

Do I think he will change his mind?

When did I find out?

When did I tell him?

What did he say when I told him?

Evidently, Katie always thought something was going on between the two of us, but just
didn't know what.

Glad that I've satisfied her curiosity.

I have to inform Susan that no, we are not dating and no, I'm not even certain I want this
baby.

She tells me, "Between your intellect and wit and his charisma, this baby will be as close to
perfect as humanly possible."

I look at her crazy for a moment and chuckle into my tea.

Perfect? I think not. We're both clearly very fucked-up people.

After Susan and Katie leave, both swearing their allegiance to keeping this a secret and with
threats from Ginny to hex anyone who tells, the three of us sit on the patio of our flat in
lounge chairs. They're sipping on strawberry daiquiris and I'm drinking water…with lemon to
spice it up. It's hot out here tonight. Hot and oddly humid. The air is different, but at least
there's a slight breeze out here tonight.

The city is quiet…and so are we.

"I owled Luna today," Ginny breaks the almost perfect silence, "Told her everything that was
going on…she thinks you should keep the baby."

I take a few gulps of lemon water, "Do you think I should keep the baby?"

"That's not my decision to make."

"You're right, but can I get your opinion? Yours too, Pans."

Pansy and Ginny exchange looks, it almost looks like they're silently arguing on who gets to
speak up.

Finally, Ginny shoots one stern look and Pansy sighs, "Okay, okay," she groans and looks at
me, "Ginny and I…we think you should keep it. It will be kind of fun having a baby around
here and I really like the idea of being Auntie Pansy," she grins at the mere thought for a
moment, "and the baby won't be fatherless. I know how you feel about Draco, but he's not
absentee father material, but I think you know that already. Once he cools down, you know
he's going to be right back here, fighting with you about this baby until he's blue in the face."

I stare up at the sky. She's right.

"I do know that. I've actually been waiting for him to just pop up and scream at me until I
decide to keep it. I think the fight he put up to convince me to keep the baby made that very
obvious to me. That's not where the problem lies. It lies with me," my voice drips with
emotions as I admit in quiet tones and tears rolling down my cheeks. "To be honest, I'm
completely and utterly terrified of becoming a mother."
 Five

Part One: My Favourite Mistake

August 23th

My stepmother loves to clean.

She loves cleaning more than she loves most other things in her life and really despises
clutter and dirt of any kind.

She and Draco should get along fabulously.

Anne will systematise any and everything. It's obsessive and almost pathological. She
organises clothes in every closet by color and texture, even the coat closet isn't spared from
her wrath. Categorises napkins based on their thickness and color. Arranges movies based on
month and year of release. And let's not even start on the furniture. I think I've made my
point clear.

During my summers home from Hogwarts, what few weeks I spent here, I remember waking
up every morning to find one or two rooms in the house completely different from when I
went to bed. Always, I could find Anne sitting on the couch or on the floor of the room she
changed, raving about how she loved finding her chi or some other garbage she reads about
in self-help and modern home books. She kind of reminds me of Trelawney with the way she
carries on.

Look inside your mind, see with your inner eye...please.

It never fails, three days later, always three; she'll complain and move it around again.

Still, I like to think of myself as an organized person, kind of like her, but not so extreme.
Actually Anne thinks it's because her dedication to perfection and her insatiable need for
order has somehow managed to rub off on me, but that's bullshit. Cleaning gives me a sense
of accomplishment and pride and organizing is like a puzzle. It's a type of catharsis for me.
Nobody can tell me how to clean, not even my dad, who likes to tell me how to do everything
else, including how to live my life.

Today, before I leave for the hour-long trip to my parents', I get up at the crack of dawn and
clean the entire flat from ceiling to floor, partly by magic and partly by the old-fashion, soap
and water way. And when I arrive, on time, Anne greets me with a feather duster in hand,
obviously doing the same thing.

"Oh, Hermione, you're just in time. I just finished cleaning and I'm about to serve lunch," she
takes a moment to examine my outfit and her smiles shows her approval, "You look
wonderful in that dress."
Ann reads too many Eighteenth century romance novels and is obsessed with chivalry and
teaching me how proper ladies act, walk, talk, wear…I'm positive that if she had her way and
threw a party, the men would be in suits and wigs and the women would be in bodices with
long dresses, elegant headdresses, adorning fans in their hands, waving to all the suitors. She
wants me to be as mild-mannered and sophisticated as she imagines people were back then,
well the people she reads about in novels.

Good luck with that one, these days I'm on this never ending emotional rollercoaster.

When she throws her arms around me, I have to use every ounce of will and strength I
possess not to gag and vomit all over her. The perfume she's wearing is absolutely
horrendous. It smells like someone sprayed a landfill with vanilla air freshener. She pulls
back and smiles, a bit too cheery, "Can you smell my perfume? Wonderful isn't it?"

"Extremely." I reply dryly, feeling a bit faint, "Where's dad?"

"In the sitting room."

"Excuse me," Giving her one last smile, I bolt out the kitchen as fast as my feet can carry me.
She hates it when people run in the house.

My dad is exactly where she said. In the living room that looks completely different than it
did the last time I was here, sitting in his favorite and sacred faded blue armchair Anne has
been trying to get rid of for years. It's old and dusty and even I fail to see the sentimental
value, but that's his chair and I don't argue. His eyes are attuned to the television that's
showing a special on the history of dentistry, which is currently talking about dentists in the
middle ages.

When dad sees me from his peripheral, he hits the televisions' pause button, gets up, and pulls
me in for a hug, "Long time, no see, Hermione."

He always says that, but for our health and safety, we try not to see one another but every
three months, unless it's an emergency. It's not like we have a bad relationship. It's just not a
very good one. Our conversations these days tend to stay below the fifteen minute mark or
else I'm going to get angry.

Fifteen minutes gets us past the 'how are you?' conversation and pushes us into the territory
where he tells me what I should do with my life.

"Been a bit busy at work, dad."

"Oh, your new job. I read your letter about it. How is it going?"

I live too far away to just "drop by" so letters and sparse telephone calls work for us. "It's
going well."

"So what exactly is a Healer?"

"It's the Wizarding equivalent to a medical doctor," I explain, "I have patients, I deal with
emergencies, I heal people with magic, I go on rounds, and I do it all."
His face lights up. "So you're like a doctor?"

I smirk at his excitement, "Yes."

"Wonderful."

My father has always had these big, larger-than-life ambitions for me. I'm sure that if I let
him, he'd tell me what my career should be, who my friends should be, what kind of car I
should drive, and who I should date. He's always believed I'm special and more than what
people think I am so when I received my Hogwarts letter, he was ecstatic that theory of his
was proven. He's more than proud when I let it slip that people call me the brightest witch of
my day.

When I come home now, I feel like I'm being suffocated. I don't know how he's going to react
to the news of my pregnancy, if I decide to tell him. Anne is more predictable than dad is.
She'll probably walk out and leave us to talk, argue, or possibly kill each other. She's a
pacifist and to be perfectly honest, I don't think I've ever heard her raise her voice. Dad, on
the other hand, is an enigma. I never know how he's going to react. I just hope that if I tell
him, he'll support whatever decision I make. But deep down, I know he'll be disappointed
with me. It's like he expects me to be perfect and responsible Hermione, he expects me not to
make mistakes, and expects me not to do all the stupid things people my age do. But if I
never make mistakes, how am I supposed to learn? How am I supposed to live? How am I
supposed to grow?

He wants to keep me ten years old and naïve forever, but I'm the furthest thing from the
image he has of me.

I don't think dad really can grasp everything I've been through or the fact that I'm far more
mature than most people my age.

He thinks I'm just this walking brain, and he doesn't believe I can cook my own meals
without his help.

Seriously. Every now and then, Anne sends over a care package of food with a note that says,
"To make sure you're eating right."

Ginny screamed the first time she opened one of the care packages.

After that, I always trash it before she sees it because she gets these flashbacks and it's really
nasty. You see, Anne is an inventor…that likes to cook. It's really a bad combination. She
likes to throw shit together to see if it works…it usually doesn't.

Anne comes out the kitchen door holding a steaming glass pan with oven gloves. If she had a
jumpsuit on, she's look like the men who pick up hazardous wastes from the Muggle
hospitals. She sits it down in the center of the table with a tiny clink, looks at the food
adoringly, and clasps her hands together before removing her gloves, "I hope you all enjoy
this. It's soy and tofu lasagna."

Sceptically, I eye it while she scoops some out on a plate for dad.
My stomach turns-and not in a good way.

Of course, she lops a huge amount on my plate.

My fork touches the tip of the mushy goo that resembles lasagna and it comforts me a bit to
see that this food hasn't melted me or the fork…yet. I stab at it with my fork and look across
the table at dad, who is eating it like its actually good or something. It's now or never, so I
scoop up some of it, close my eyes, and slide the fork in my mouth.

At first I test the waters to see if it isn't going to melt my teeth, but it's harmless. Except for
the taste, that is. My throat struggles to swallow, but I do. I open my eyes to look into my
stepmother's hopeful eyes, "Mmm…"

"Do you really like it?"

It takes like cow dung. I take a really long drink of water before picking at the "lasagna"with
my fork. I don't know if I possess the strength and will to eat more to protect her feelings,
"Oh, it's wonderful."

"Would you like some salad?"

Salad is a good idea. At least until I taste it. I don't even want to know what's in my mouth,
something crunchy, something slimy, but I chew carefully and swallow the entire mouthful
before attempting to smile at Anne. "Tastes good."

"I made the dressing myself," she informs with a smile.

That explains everything. Every ounce of strength goes into the task of keeping my face
straight. What in the bloody hell did she make the dressing out of? Blended road-kill with a
sprinkle of death to get that nice tangy taste? After a few more dangerous bites, I feign
fullness and she takes my plate into the kitchen.

"Did you see the living room?" Anne asks me.

I sip on my water; it's probably the best part of the meal, "Yes."

"What did you think about it? It's changed since the last time you've been here."

Quick, make up something. I know it's changed, but I don't know how, "It's very," I begin,
making motions with my hands, trying to come up with the next word and praying I get it
right, "comforting…"

She gins. "That's exactly what I was going for. Feng Shui For The Soul says that the key to an
open and comfortable room is a clear pathway. The chi is full then and the mind relaxes."

I have no idea what she's talking about. "That's fascinating."

"You should try it in your flat."

"Of course, we will." I lie.

Dad excuses himself for about fifteen minutes to go out back, probably to smoke. The funny
thing is my dad will tell you that he doesn't smoke, it's not true, but he believes it. He doesn't
count those late nights only I know about when he goes through two, maybe three packs
while Anne is completely oblivious. He only smokes when he needs to think, or so he claims.
He doesn't think it counts, but let one of those anti-tobacco commercials come on and he'll
make a supportive grunt in his throat like he's considering writing an encouraging letter to the
Anti-Tobacco Foundation or whatever the hell you call it.

It's just like him to think he's impervious to mistakes, to think he's flawless.

"So, what's new with you?" Anne asks over the dessert I decide to skip. It's some kind of
cheesecake that I don't trust. Dad is back, lapping it up like he's never eaten cheesecake in his
life…maybe the smoking has weakened his taste buds.

I shrug to cover my tensing shoulders, "Nothing, just tired. I'm on call for 24-hours
tomorrow."

"That's a long time," she comments, rising from her chair to go in the kitchen, "Would anyone
like wine?"

I've been offered so much wine since I found out that I'm pregnant that my reply is automatic.
"No thanks."

Anne looks at me, distraught, "But it's your favorite. I bought it for you. I even chilled it the
way you liked it."

I try to gloss over this situation smoothly without revealing anything, "I'm so sorry Anne, but
I'm not in the mood—"

"For your favorite wine? Come on, just one glass," she tries to tempt me.

Of course, I stick to my original answer, firmly. "No, I don't want it. I'm on call."

"Yeah, tomorrow and it's just one glass, today."

My irritation flashes. "Look, Anne, but I don't want a bloody glass of wine."

She looks rather stunned by the tone of my voice. Now, she's close to tears and I feel guilty
for lashing out. Anne frowns, "Why not?"

Dad actually looks up too, regarding me with a curious look, "Yeah, why not?" he pipes in.

My mind starts to panic, but I'm far too irritated to be fearful of revealing this secret,
"Because I can't."

Apparently no answer is good enough for them. Dad gives me a funny look, "And why can't
you?"

"Why is it any of your business?" I grumble darkly.

"Because I'm your father…and you are my business. So why can't you drink any wine?"

My frustration peaks. I'm not his business; I haven't been his business since I was eighteen.
Perhaps even longer.

"I'm waiting on your answer, Hermione Granger."

I slam my fist on the table, dishes clatter, startling them both. "Okay, you want to know why I
can't have any wine?" It's out before I can pull it back in. "It's because I'm pregnant…so if
you two will do me a favor, leave me alone before my already buggered-up hormones make
me go mental and I either flip this table or cry on it."

Anne's mouth drops.

Uncomfortable with the tense silence that overwhelms the room, she wordlessly scampers to
the kitchen to wait out the monsoon that's about to start in this dining room. Dad just shakes
his head, disappointed. The look he gives me makes me want to curl up in a ball. I'm not used
to him looking at me with such regret, like I've made an unforgivable mistake. I shake my
head and bite my lip, hard, but there's no way to stop the tears from falling. Fucking mood
swings.

"You're what?" The chill of his words makes a shiver run up and down my spine.

"I'm pregnant…" I repeat shakily, trying to make my voice sound stronger than it actually is,
"Just past nine weeks…"

"Well," my dad speaks after another moment of silence with a shrug. "You can abort it, right?
You're in the right time. Just go in and get rid of the it, be more careful, and move on with
your life."

His words stagger me. To the point where I can only just sit there, shell-shocked and outraged
that he actually said that to me…in my face. I can't believe it! He's the first person to say it so
callously, so upfront and brash, almost dismissively. Like this baby doesn't matter, like it's
some annoyance that's getting in the way of his perfect daughter and the perfect life he wants
me to live. I never thought he'd react like this and I find myself disgusted with him all of a
sudden. I'm disgusted and hurt that my father, the man who gave me life is the only person
not excited about this baby; that he isn't excited about being a grandfather.

I can hardly see from the tears glazed over in my eyes, begging to be shed, and I'm trembling.
My voice breaks. "It's not that easy, dad."

He sips on his drink, "Of course it is, Hermione. Nobody wants a bastard out of wedlock.
Perhaps in a few years..."

I feel my body go rigid, "Well, maybe I do." I stubbornly cross my arms.

Dismissively, he throws his hand up. "Go right ahead, have it. Ruin your life."

"I have a lot of money saved from my last job. I'm twenty-one and there's no reason why I
can't have this baby. I'm an adult, it's my body, and I'll do what—"
Freezing, I realize suddenly I've made my decision.

"You know nothing about being a mother."

"First of all, I know more about being a mother than you know about being a father," I shout
angrily, "Fathers don't push their daughters away when they need them. Fathers don't put
their daughters away, period."

"Her—"

My heart is racing as I continue to rant. "And secondly, I won't be on my own! This baby has
a father who wants to be in its life; a father that fought hard for its life! It has me, all of me,
one-hundred percent! It has my friends, who will love it like it's their own! This baby already
has the world, dad, and it hasn't even been born!"

"Please," he scoffs, "The father will leave you for the next piece of arse he can find and then
where will you be? Twenty-one, with a baby, and a ton of baggage. No man wants baggage,
Hermione."

"You don't know that." And I'm shaking with rage.

"I expected better from you, Hermione. This is not like you, you're responsible, you're smart
—"

"You think I wanted this to happen? You think I did this on purpose? Do you think this was
planned? No. I'm not perfect, dad, and I can't live up to this perfect image you have of me.
Yes, I did something stupid. Yes, this baby was a mistake, but I'm starting to think that it's a
good mistake; the best one I've ever made."

"Be reasonable…get rid of it."

Tears spill over my cheeks. "No."

"Then don't want you to come back here until you've make the right decision. In the end,
you'll see that I'm always right…and maybe when you're mature and married, you can have a
real baby."

The barrier breaks and my shoulders shake with sobs, "This is a real baby! If mum were alive
—"

"Well she's not, is she? I've raised you from infancy…you've only got me."

The resolve I've gathered stops the tears from falling. "You're wrong. I don't just have you. I
have friends. I have friends who know me better than you do. I have me…and now I have
this baby. And, you know what, dad? That's all I need. I've been doing fine all this time and
I'll continue to do just fine without you."

My chair is knocked to the floor when I rise sharply. My face is flushed, pulse racing and
head throbbing from his assault on me as a person and his criticism of this baby.
I throw the napkin on the table and storm out the room and eventually the front door without
so much as a casual glance back, slamming the door so hard behind me that the hinges break.

Part Two: Wreck of the day

There is no time to scream, there is no time to run…all I can do is brace myself for the impact
that I know is coming.

Everything happens so fast.

I just left the disastrous lunch and after speeding off, blind with anger; I regain my
composure and slow down, thinking first and foremost about the security of this baby.

Mentally, I made a list of things to do today: get prenatal vitamins, go to the bookstore to get
all the expecting books, find an obstetrician, tell Pansy the news, and go home and read all
these books. But it's funny how life has a way to interrupt all your plans.

There is a distinct squeal of tires just beforehand. The passenger side impact, the violent
crunch of metal against metal, sends my car into a tailspin. I grip the steering wheel as tight
as I can as my car spins and flips all over the road. Tumble forward. My head slams against
the deploying airbag, the force of the hit, sends my head smack into the window that shatters
almost immediately. Roll back. I think I hear myself scream.

People say the instant between life and death is one that holds the most clarity. I've heard that
a lot from Harry, who has been much closer to death more than anyone I know. I try not to be
the kind that worries over minuscule things or debates the curiosities of the world. If I let
myself, I'm sure that I can become that person. Life, right now, is exactly what it is—living. I
don't take it for granted, no more than anyone else my age, but I don't pay enough attention to
it.

Not until now.

Spinning and spiraling out of control, my vision is muddled and even though I know the sun
is out, I see nothing. All I can do is hold on for dear life. I am not religious, but while I spin, I
pray. I pray that this baby will be kept safe. It's all clear to me now. Yes, this baby is a
mistake, but I think that in my heart, I've always planned to keep it. I think it's my mind that
has finally caught up. And then it's over, and there's nothing but an infinite numbness
sweeping over my body. Some part of me screams in pain, but I'm too dizzy to ascertain what
exactly.

Groaning, I take a few shaky breaths, willing myself to calm down. Glass is everywhere and
I'm covered in shards that shine brilliantly in the sunlight. Damn. It's bright…and I can't help
but think it shouldn't be this sunny at a time like right now. It doesn't matter, I'm just happy to
be alive. I don't have to glance around to know my car is a mess. That too doesn't matter.
Nothing does, except the safety of this baby.

Figures the moment I decide to keep this baby, something like this happens and now I'm
stuck at an intersection with tears I can't cry and pieces of glass in my hair.
It takes me everything I have to stay calm. I can't think clearly about anything except this
baby. I don't care about me. I just care about this baby…and I realize I'm thinking like a
mum. I feel like a mum. I am a mum.

So for the sake of this baby, I will myself to stay calm, sit here, and breathe. In and out.

A redheaded man rushes to my busted window and instantly I wonder if he's related to the
Weasleys, "Are you okay?"

Breathe in. Breathe out.

I notice a crowd starting to grow on the sidewalk.

Stay calm, Hermione, stay calm, "Yes," I speak slowly, "I think so. My head hurts."

He puts a napkin to my head, it stings a bit and I wince, "You're bleeding. What's your
name?"

"Hermione…Hermione Granger."

"Well, I wish we could've met under better conditions, but I'm Ted, I'm a yoga instructor and
right now, the best thing you can do is stay really calm. My wife is calling the accident in."

He sounds like a yoga instructor and I may not know him, I may not ever see him again, but
right now, I'm relieved he's here with me. There's something about him that's really
comforting and assuring about him, his presence, and his voice. I find myself relaxing in his
presence, I close my eyes momentarily, hand on my stomach, "Okay, I am."

Breathe in. Breathe out.

A thin blonde woman runs up to the window next, with a cell phone to her ear, speaking
rather frantically, "The operator wants to know if you have any pre-existing conditions, miss
—"

"Shelly, honey, her name is Hermione…and we're staying calm."

"Yes, calm," she takes a deep breath and begins coolly, though her voice trembles, "Everyone
is en route. Hermione, do you have any pre-existing conditions they should know about?"

"I'm nine weeks pregnant."

Shelly audibly gasps.

Ted's reserve breaks for a moment when he mutters, "Bloody hell."

Well put, Ted, well put. I'm thinking the same thing.

He finds his tranquility and I thank Merlin for it because if he loses it, I will too, "Okay, we're
still going to be calm, okay everyone?"
Yes, I'm going to stay calm. I breathe in and out, shutting my eyes to slow my heart rate. I'm
going to stay calm. Not freak out. I hear Shelly's heels clink against the pavement as she
walks away tell the operator exactly what I told her and I think they are giving her advice.
Ted is still holding the napkin to my head firmly.

There is silence. I can't take silence right now. I need someone to talk to me. I need someone
to talk to me and keep my mind off this.

"Ted," I speak, my voice trembling, "Can you tell me what happened?"

"We were right behind you. I didn't even see the other car until it ran the light and hit you. I
think the other guy is drunk. He's slumped over in his seat right now; I think someone is
keeping an eye on him, making sure he doesn't leave."

Shelly quickly returns, "They told me not to move you until they get here. Is there anyone
you want me to call?"

"I don't have anyone's number committed to memory," I reach in my pocket as smooth as I
can and extract my phone, "But I have my phone."

With a sigh of relief, I open my phone. Two bars left. Thank Merlin. My fingers shake as I hit
the 2 button to speed dial Ginny, but I quickly hit the send button and hold the phone to my
ear. My eyes dart around my destroyed car again and I try not to panic. I have to get this call
through. I just have to.

The crowd of onlookers grows. I hear some slurred yelling.

Suddenly, I feel suffocated.

Ted mutters, "Calm, stay calm."

And I just nod, though I feel like I'm losing my nerve.

"Maybe I should make the call for you, Hermione," Shelly speaks, "Maybe you've had some
head trauma or some internal bleeding or something. Are you sure you're okay?"

Oh, so now Shelly is a doctor?

"I'm fine, okay. I'm staying calm…" I wish Ginny would pick up the bloody phone.

"You're probably in shock."

I know I'm in shock. I can't feel anything, except this dull throb in my head where Ted is
holding the napkin.

"Shell, not right now, okay? We're trying to keep her calm, not rile her up by putting ideas in
her head that we can't prove, love."

"You're right."
Finally, I hear Ginny's voice muffle a quick hello.

She's on a date, I know, but I'm instantly relieved to have someone familiar to talk to, "Gin,
it's me. I had a—"

Of course, she cuts me off, "Hermione, did you tell your dad—"

"I did. More like yelled it," I shake my head and get to the topic at hand. "But I don't care
about that now, seriously, I had a wreck and I'm in my car. I need you to get here really fast
because I think I'm running real low on reserve and I'm going to lose my mind."

Ginny starts to panic. I hear it in her voice and in her breathing, "Holy shit! Where are you?"

I open my mouth to answer, but I realise that, with all the commotion and the spinning and
the flipping, I have no idea where I am. Stay calm. Just stay calm. Ginny screams, "Hermione
was in an accident!" which does little to help keep me calm. Instead, I find myself closing
my eyes and speaking slowly, "Stop yelling Gin, I'm going to give the phone to this guy
named Ted and he's going to give you directions here, okay?"

"Okay, just hold on, okay?"

"I'm not dying," are the last words I say to Ginny before I hand the cell phone to Ted. I keep
my breathing cool and calm as I listen to him tell the frantic Ginny how to get here.

When he hangs up, he hands me back the cell phone, slightly chuckling, "Your friend is really
wound up."

"Yes, she worries about me."

"Obviously, are you alright?"

"Yes." I'm trying not to panic.

I hear the sirens and my tensing body relaxes a bit.

Before I can say anything, Ted moves and all of a sudden in his place, looking like an angel
to me, is a fireman. He immediately drops to his knees, "Are you okay?"

A little frantic, I respond. "Yes, I'm okay. My head hurts, but I just need to make sure my
baby is okay."

He whistles at someone, "Bring me that," he looks back at me, "How far along are you?"

"Nine weeks."

"Okay," he carefully puts the neck brace on, unbuckles my safety belt, and slowly, carefully
extracts me from the car, and lies me on the stretcher. He begins to strap my legs in to keep
me still in the event of serious injury. He checks the car next and then, just like that he's gone.
He's quickly replaced by two medics. Fear and panic leap into my chest and I don't think I
can breathe anymore. I don't see anyone familiar anymore. Ted and Shelly are gone. From my
vantage point, I can see the severity of this crash. My car…my car is completely totaled.
There is no passenger's side, not anymore. It's crushed in to the point where it's
unrecognisable.

Chaos breaks out.

"I'm going to need you to answer a few questions…"

"Clear away, people. We need to secure the scene…"

"How far along…"

"Your name is…"

"Are you having any sharp abdominal pain?"

My head is pounding not just from the pain, but the steep rise in anxiety. I'm on edge.

This was a really bad accident. They tell me I'm really lucky. A lot of people in these kinds of
accidents don't make it out as easily as I did. They were surprised that I didn't break any
bones. But what if the baby. I can't let myself think like that, not now, especially when I don't
know anything for certain. I want to scream and curse and tell them to hurry up and take me
to the hospital, but somehow, I manage to answer the paramedic's question while the other
radios the closest hospital. There are abrasions on my elbows, head, and knees, but they won't
know anything until we get the ultrasound done.

I flinch, but remain cool when they apply peroxide and bandages to cuts and scrapes and ice
to the cut on my head that's probably going to need stitches. I'm thinking of a more magical
remedy…one that doesn't involve stitches.

I close my eyes to ease the headache and soon I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm here," Ginny takes a hold of the ice on my head and I want to burst into tears from the
relief I feel, "I'm here, okay? Just let them do their jobs. I called Pansy and she's going to
meet us at the hospital, okay?"

I just nod and finally let the tears roll down my cheeks.

Part Three: No I in Team

"Hey, let's get you inside 'Mione," Pansy keeps her arms wrapped around me firmly while
Ginny opens the door to our flat with her wand. Pansy helps me into the threshold of our
door, "I'm sure we have a bath with your name all over it."

"You guys don't have to do this. I can—"

Both Ginny and Pansy give me a pointed look, but it's Ginny that speaks, "Hermione, you
know just as well as I do that you don't want to be alone right now. Quit being so stubborn
and let us help."

"Yeah, 'Mione, we love you," Pansy smiles, "We wouldn't be here if we didn't. Now, let's get
you cleaned up. All this glass in your hair is making me nervous. You don't need to get
anymore scratched up more than you already are." Pansy lets me go for a second, whips her
wand out, and with a quick wave all the glass is gone. "Now that's better."

I follow them to my bathroom, sitting on the toilet while Ginny turns on the tap and Pansy
pulls a number of towels from the cabinet. Pansy then grabs my bathrobe from the hook on
the door and holds it out to me, I shake my head.

"I don't want to hear it, Hermione. You were hit by a drunk driver, your car is obliterated, and
you just spent the afternoon in the hospital. I'm just glad you're fine."

"Yeah, but I hate to be a trouble."

Ginny helps me into the bathrobe, "No, you'd do it for either of us in a heartbeat. We want to
help. That's what friends are for."

I smile. "Thanks guys…for everything."

I undress without a word and slip into the bath, sinking into the warm bubbly water that
soothes me instantly before speaking timidly, "Guys?"

"Yeah?" they reply instantly.

"Can you both…" I close my eyes and swallow forcefully, "Can you both stay?"

Ginny nods and sits on the floor next to the tub while Pansy sits across from Ginny, "We'll be
here."

Pansy looks at me, "You know, it's okay to cry. It has been a long day."

I don't need anymore encouragement.

Not a minute passes before I can't tell the difference between the water on my hands and my
tears. I sit there with my head in my wet hands, crying until I can't stand it anymore. Pansy
and Ginny sit in silence as I cry, getting everything out, all the fear I felt today, all the
worrying, the stress, the pain, everything. And when I wipe my eyes with my hands, I relish
in the feeling of being purified. I take a breath and smile at my friends, "I feel a lot better."

Ginny smiles. "That's good."

Pansy gets up, goes to the sink, and looks at herself in the mirror, "Did the doctor say
anything about the baby?"

My eyes shift between Ginny and Pansy before my smile brightens a bit, "Everything looks
good and…and, well, I'm keeping it."
 Six

Part One: Control

August 24th

"…let me be clear about something tonight, Granger: you're the only women I've ever
wanted…"

For years, this thing with Draco has been this weird kind of crush…the kind of crush that
takes over your entire existence. When you can't think of anything but that person and you
don't want to think of anything but that person. All I see is his face; all I hear is his voice. I
can still smell the scent of his cologne and I know it's my imagination, but it's still so vivid.

But as I stand here, today, I wonder who he is, really.

I've known him forever it seems, but his actions as of late have left me seriously wondering
whether I really know him at all.

Who is this man I have the desire to smother and snog all in the same breath? Who is this
man who drives me utterly insane with his obsessive idiosyncrasies? The man who tugs at
this and that; who straightens every bloody thing in sight when things get slightly tense. The
funny thing is I find myself missing the very things I thought I detested about him.

Oh, don't get me wrong, it's still annoying, but I guess it's charming.

Really, I know hardly anything about the man I've been half in love with for two years. The
man that is capable of making me cry and smile all at the same time. Now that I think about
it, watching Draco rant furiously really opened my eyes. Seeing him yell at me made him
almost human. Almost. He really does have emotions, he really does have feelings; he's not
this emotionless statue. I used to think he was unable to feel anything and I used to envy him
for being able to control his emotions so well. Now, I don't.

Now, if only I could borrow some of his emotional control and use it right now, that would be
great.

Pansy gives me two thumbs up. "Go on then, we committed a lot of crimes to get you here."

True.

Ginny nods and pats my shoulder for encouragement. "Yeah, we sure as hell did. Go on…
courage, mate," she shakes her fist.

Oh, I'll need all of that, a fist, and some more to get through this. "Thanks," I take a deep
breath before pushing the door open with shaky hands and stepping into the office. Shit, why
is it so damn hot in here? Better yet, why am I so bloody nervous? His office is like a fucking
furnace…maybe he needs to counteract the cooling charm he puts on his clothes—
The door clicks shut behind me and a very angry and snooty voice speaks extremely coldly,
"I thought I told—"

All I can do to shut him up is say his name, "Draco."

His quill falls from his hand just as his head shoots up, "Hermione?" The way he says my
name is soft, it's a bit odd and different. But he snaps out of it quickly and the cool, austere
and statuesque Draco Malfoy is back, still in adorn in his perfect black robes. "What are you
doing here, Granger? Better yet, how did you get past my secretaries? I specifically told them
not to let anyone in here."

I swear, he's either yelling or ignoring me.

I'm really going to need him to find a middle-ground or something because this is just plain
annoying. I have to cut him off because clearly it's not in his nature to shut up these days,
"They didn't just let me walk in here. Pansy confounded the first to stop her from calling
security when Ginny started yelling at her for not letting us in. And, well, Ginny stupefied the
second because she was angry. I didn't know you hired new secretaries—"

"That has nothing to do with anything! You confounded and stupefied my secretaries, what
the bloody hell is wrong with you and your bloody friends?"

For the first time ever, I keep my composure while he's the ranting, barmy idiot. My hands
rest on my hips patiently and I find myself almost smirking, "It was their idea, really. I was
thinking of a more stealth approach like Flooing to your house, but you know how Pansy is
more than you know Ginny. They two of them are three things: bold, brazen, and quick to
forget the law."

It's only now that he chuckles…yes, he actually chuckles, but he knows I'm right, especially
about Pansy. He's been friends with her longer than I have. It was actually through her that
we got a bit closer.

It was during the final battle. I ran into Pansy trying to flee the castle through the portrait. I
remember she was desperate to get away, screaming she wanted no part in the war…that was
until a Death Eater tried to hit her with an Unforgivable. I pulled her out the way of the curse;
I don't even know why I did it. After that, Pansy was all about fighting on our side, she took
out three Death Eaters by herself while screaming, "I'm pureblood, you idiots!"

We've been best mates ever since.

We bumped into a wandless Draco who was trying to convince a Death Eater he was on their
side and that he cursed another Death Eater because he just so happened to step in front of a
curse he was aiming at an Order member. Pansy, still on a rage, hexed the Death Eater and
before I could curse him into a new world, she demanded Draco for once to pick a side. He
said he picked a side a while back, after the Sixth Year fiasco and was trying not to get
killed…then he found his wand and saved me to prove his point.

The three of us proceeded to work together to fight Death Eaters and Dementors and a few
giants until I found Harry and Ron…
"Okay," Draco crosses the room and stands in front of me. "Granger, what did you want to
discuss with me so badly you had your friends hex my secretaries?"

As soon as he asks the question, I get this weird feeling in my stomach and puts my hand to
it, and upon realising it's a hunger pain, I proceed, "I wanted to apologise for that night. The
next day, I called to make an appointment at the abort—"

Sternly, he points his finger at me, "Don't finish that sentence."

Rolling my eyes, I try desperately not to notice how close he is to me…or the fact that his
cologne is the first that hasn't made me ill, "Malfoy, it's—"

"No," he interrupts, looking a bit nauseated. "Really, do not finish that sentence. I get it. I
may not be a Muggle-Born, but I know what happens when you make that appointment
okay."

What the hell? For the love of…"Malfoy, I need to—"

Very uncharacteristically of Draco, he displays his frustration. It's very obvious with his body
language and the fact that he's moved away from me and is now straightening parchments on
his desk meticulously. "What I don't get is why you're here telling me this when you didn't
even want my opinion about anything in the first place. I specifically told you what I wanted
and you left—"

"Let's be clear about something Malfoy, I didn't leave."

He chuckled ruefully. "Okay, I left…after you accused me of being the sort that sleeps around
with anything and anyone I can. I left after you insulted me, my pride, my name, and my
dignity."

I sigh apologetically. "I know and I'm truly sorry that I passed judgment on you like that."

"Well, apology not accepted," he replies stubbornly, as I knew he would. "You had the right
idea, Granger. I can't tell you what you should do; it's your body, after all. I guess it's fitting
you and I should finally agree on something after three years of arguing about everything."
He starts arranging the items on his desk again.

I exhale. "Malfoy, I don't agree—"

"I really don't need you showing up in here, talking about abortion clinics and whatnot. I'm
busy. Get out."

"No."

"Then I'll have security kick you out."

I wave my arm. "Fine, do whatever you feel necessary, Draco…" I approach him at his desk.

He stops organising the quills on his desk when I put hand on his shoulder tentatively. He
tenses, almost goes as stiff as a board. It's like he doesn't want my hands on him.
Ruefully, I shake my head, "Didn't know you'd be like this because of a bruised ego."

"And you're an intolerable—"

"Don't let those words come out of your mouth, Malfoy…"

He takes a sharp breath, like he wants to pick up his wand and blast me across the room, but
knows it's the wrong thing to do so he doesn't, "Just go away, Granger. I get that you're
aborting our baby. I get it. I don't agree, but whatever."

"Malfoy, I'm—"

"It's fine."

I stomp my foot in frustration, I shove him in frustration. "Can I please get one word in
edgewise?"

"I'm over it, Granger," he says dismissively. "And I'm over you…I don't even know why I
cared so much; you're just like everyone else."

"You play the wounded victim really well, Malfoy, you always have," I roll my eyes
sarcastically, annoyed by him at this very moment. "I'm playing the world's smallest violin
over here for you." I hold my forefinger and thumb about an inch apart and use my other
thumb and forefinger to reenact the movement of the violin bow.

"Quit being condescending."

"I'm not, you're being childish and insane. It's impossible to get one word in edgewise with
you. It's not one of the best of your qualities, but if we're going to raise this baby together, I'm
going to need you to work on that."

His anger dissipates in about a second. "Could you repeat that for me?"

"This is new. Different from the stick-in-the-ass Draco Malfoy, so I guess I'll let you keep
that—"

He's honestly confused. "Let me—what the bloody hell are you ranting about, Granger?"

"I suppose we both have something to work on, mine is my stubbornness. Between yours and
mine, our baby won't budge for anything."

"Granger—" I grab his hand to shut him up.

"I think you should strictly call me Hermione and I'll call you Draco. Too many surnames. I
think it'll confuse the baby." He just stammers and I shake my head, "Maybe if you're this
inarticulate, we may have to go a different route."

"Are you holding my hand?"

"Yes."
"Why?"

"You're incredibly dense today, Draco, but its okay with your charm and my brains, I'm sure
our baby will be just perfect."

"Okay, you said I'm charming-who are you and what have you done to the Hermione Granger
who slapped the hell out of me less than two weeks ago?"

"I'm right here, in front of you, Draco, telling you that I called the abortion clinic to make an
appointment and ended up hanging up before I could finish dialing. And then I told my dad
and he flipped and then I got in this wreck and it kind of woke me up—"

He looks kind of concerned. "A wreck? When? Are you—"

"Two days ago. I'm fine…we're fine." I'm kind of touched that he's alarmed.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Definitely sore, but fine." I smile, "I guess what I'm trying to tell you in my own special way
that involves me ranting, and you staring at me like I'm a bloody idiot…is that I decided to
keep this baby after all."

"You are?"

I sigh, "I'm going against everything I know, I'm completely out of my mind and scared to
death, I can't keep breakfast down for anything in the world, and I like breakfast, I'm
estranged from my parents, you and I have loads to work out because we're practically
strangers who are having a baby together, but if you're willing to try to work with me through
our issues and get to know me so we can be an effective team, I am too."

He takes a deep breath, "I—"

"No matter what you decide to do," I cut him off smoothly, "I'm going to be a mother in
February and my life takes a backseat to the life of my child."

Draco looks at me firmly "Our child."

I smile, "Yes, our child…does that mean—"

"Yes."

"Great." I clap my hands. "I'm starving, and I'm dying for some pizza."

Part Two: Stupid Mouth

Draco takes the rest of the day off and after stopping by Malfoy manor to change into
something more suitable in his opinion (black dress pants and a black shirt), we find
ourselves in an Italian restaurant in Muggle London. As soon as we're seated and our drinks
are ordered, we start talking.
For the first time in a long time, we just sit and talk honest to each other.

We talk like we've never been formally introduced until the moment we stepped into the
restaurant. We talk like we just happened to go to the same school and know the same people.
And it feels good that we're talking like this, it's almost like we're starting over. We talk for
over three hours over a cheese pizza and waters. We talk as hungry customers come in and
satisfied customers leave. We talk as busboys change tablecloths and set the silverware on
each table. We talk as the employees sit down for lunch themselves. We talk.

He talks as I munch on pizza. I talk as he sips on his drink. He chuckles at my jokes. I smirk
when he nervously asks how I'm feeling. I like nervous and concerned Draco, it's completely
different from the cold Draco I'm used to…and friendlier too. I don't recall ever talking to a
person this much, much less enjoying it. I definitely don't recall a time when either of us just
sat and listened to the other without taking offense, getting furious, and shouting.

We do that a lot…the getting furious and shouting, I mean.

We don't, however, do enough of this…casual conversation and honesty.

Surprisingly, Draco and I talk very little about the baby, only that we agree to keep doing
prenatal care the Muggle way to prevent any unnecessary stress on me. Oh, and I have a
doctor's appointment next Wednesday and that I want him to be there with me because Ginny
has practice and Pansy has to work. I don't want to be alone. It works because, even though
we're not going to see the baby, he wants to be there, too.

People always say never to judge a book by its cover, now I know why.

When Draco is in an affable environment and he feels comfortable, he begins to relax, just a
bit, and he becomes more real. He still messes with the salt and pepper shakers, but I find
myself not bothered by it. As much. We talk politics, literature, philosophy, history, and
current events. I learn more about him with each passing minute and I've come to the
realisation that Draco is a lot different from what I thought; from what I've come to know.

We chat about his hatred of most music that comes on the Wireless, some television, and
Chinese food. We talk about my hatred of self-help books, reality television, and overall pop
music. We debate about which house had the best Quidditch team, owls or cats as pets, and
the significance of lava lamps. It's so random, but I find myself laughing at both the hilarity
of this situation and the ridiculousness, but I guess this is typical Draco and Hermione in
action. We dance around the point of everything with precision and dexterity, which is why
nothing ever gets resolved with us.

I can safely say that today I'm okay with dancing.

We converse about old memories.

I find out that he didn't have a particularly bad childhood and I tell him about my mum's
death and its repercussions on my relationship with my father. I tell him about the fight, how
I hadn't made my mind up completely about the baby until he started attacking the idea. We
talk about the things that happened at Hogwarts while we were in school. He tells me about
the day Harry hit him with the Patronus Charm during the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw Quidditch
match and about the night he found out about the dragon. I tell him about the shrieking shack
and the night with Snape, Sirius, and Lupin…and I tell him about the time turner. We talk
about all our little mishaps, from the night we all spent detention in the Forbidden Forest to
Umbridge.

He actually laughs when I tell him about the night Ron and Harry used the Polyjuice potion
to turn into Crabbe and Goyle. I smile when he admits that the "sneak" pimples jinx on
Marietta's head was probably the most brilliant thing he'd ever seen. We talk about anything
and everything; and we walk out with slightly more of an understanding about each other,
even if everything we know is superficial at best.

But as he apparates us near my house and walks me home, oddly, I feel a bit happy about
things right now because the entire time Draco looks at me in this nice way. Like he finds me
interesting. Not in the "she's okay" kind of way, but in this "never knew she was so
fascinating" manner.

It really kind of makes my day.

But who am I kidding? We still don't know enough about each other to really go there. I'm
too rational to let myself blindly slip back to whatever we were before, baby or no baby. No
real connection has been established and we have a slew of things to discuss, but it's nice. We
are just two people who had one good day. Let's hope we have another one. End of story,
right?

We're standing at the door of my flat. I'm facing Draco, who is wearing an undetectable look
on his face.

"I had a good time." I tell him, because it's the truth.

Draco flashes what I detect is a small smirk and mutters half under his breath. "I did too."

"Oh," I remember suddenly, snapping my fingers once before reaching into my pocket and
pulling out what I intended to give him in the office earlier, "This is for you…" I hand him
the newer 4-D picture, the one I got from the day of the accident.

He takes it slowly and looks at it. I watch as his face begins to glaze over and melt like it did
the night I tossed the first picture at him; it's this mix of pleased, happy, and awe. It's fleeting
and serious Draco tries to quickly return, but at least I see it, at least I know he at least cares.
This time, however, his face doesn't turn all the way back to stone. This time, a glimmer of a
smirk appears, "Is this…"

"Nine weeks, perfectly healthy, and not quite an amorphous blob," After a few quiet moments
of concentrated staring, he tries to hand it back, but I don't take it, "It's yours, Draco…you
keep it."

He stares at it longer and looks up at me, "By chance, did you read the letter I sent?"

Willing myself not to blush. "Yes."

Draco clears his throat and momentarily starts picking at the sleeve of his shirt. "Umm…so,
what do you think?"

That's a good question. What do I think? Can we really start over after everything that's
happened between the two of us?

"Maybe…I don't know, but I guess it's worth a shot, right?"

He nods. "Yes."

I feel suddenly compelled to ask. "Would you like to come in…for some tea?"

If he's surprised by my question, he hides it well. "Okay, but let me Apparate home for a
second to grab something for you."

Nodding, I watch him smoothly walk down the step for a moment, before using my key to
turn the lock to my flat. And as soon as I step into the living room, immediately, I know, I've
walked into a war zone.

Let me just set up this scene I've just walked into because it's nasty.

It's battle of the sexes. Four people, two males, two females…two on each side, and
surprisingly no wands are drawn, for now.

On my right is a scarlet-faced, slightly shaking, teary eyed, angry Ginny Weasley. Next to
Ginny is an enraged, but momentarily silent Pansy Parkinson, who kind of does look like a
pug now…a rabid pug, that is. On my left, about five feet in front of Ginny is a livid, fist-
clenching Harry Potter sporting a nice angry vein on his neck. And rounding out the
foursome, standing next to Harry is a pissed off and probably irrational Ron, whose face kind
of matches his hair.

This would be a nice night for a reunion, but only it's not.

I'm about to get pulled into a fight after such a peaceful afternoon. Sigh.

"What do you expect me to do, Harry?" Ginny asks, rather, screams heatedly, angry tears
falling rapidly in succession down her red cheeks, "Sit on my arse and pine after you while
you go off and do whatever and whoever you want?"

"No, but I don't want to hear about my girlfriend dating every available bloke in the
Wizarding World."

Pansy rolls her eyes. "I hardly think four guys classifies as the entire Wizarding World—"

"Stay the hell out of this, Pansy," Harry warns darkly.

Ignoring his threat with a wave of her hand. "Oh, you're just jealous—"

"Why don't you shut your bloody trap." Ron yells.

Ginny closes her eyes. "Enough! Harry, calm your attack dog down," she glares pointedly at
her brother.

"Tell her to stay out of this, too." Ron sneers at a glaring Pansy.

A silent exchange occurs between my two best friends and Pansy snorts and folds her arms.

Ron seems to relax too, slightly.

Harry takes a deep breath. "Look, Gin—"

She cuts him off, "Harry, you don't have a right to tell me what I can and can't do. You took a
break from me, you wanted to date around, you wanted to make sure what we have is real
before you make the decision to settle down. I never questioned it, Harry, you did."

"But they're my friends Ginny…you can't date my friends." And he sounds bitter.

She recoils like he slapped her in the face. "Oh, and Parvati Patil and Hannah Abbot aren't my
friends? That's very hypocritical of you to tell me I can't date your friends when all you seem
to go after are mine." Ginny sneers. Harry looks speechless, but I don't think Ginny's
finished, "And let's not even get started on the fact that you went back to Cho, who is on my
Quidditch team for Merlin's sake! How—" she takes a deep breath, "How dare you come in
my flat after nearly two months of little communication and start some bullshit with me!"

"It's not bullshit, Ginny…three guys, three guys every month. What the hell is that?" Harry
screams at her.

Ginny breaks down and starts to cry, Pansy's getting angrier and angrier by the second, and I
decide it's now time to make a grand entrance.

I decide to let the door close audibly.

Every eye is on me now and instantly the mood changes, giving Ginny the perfect break to
pull herself together.

"Hermione!" Harry and Ron exclaim right before they barrel me with hugs.

I smile and hug them both, Harry first, then Ron, but I'm looking over them at my red-headed
best friend, who gives me a thankful smile. I haven't seen either of them in almost three
months. Ron's been training for Quidditch and spent the last few weeks in Romania visiting
Charlie. Harry has been busy with his job as an Auror in the Ministry…and dating around, I
suppose…hmm...

And here come the questions:

Harry asks, "What have you been up to?"

Ron asks, "I heard you quit working for Malfoy…how's your new job?
Before I can answer either question, Harry has another question. "What made you decide to
quit?"

Ron, of course, is right behind him. "Where's Crookshanks?"

They're bombarding me with questions and I have to stop them before they can ask anything
else.

"Wait…wait…one at a time." I smile. "It's great to see you both too. I did quit my job, but I
love my new job, and I've been," I think for a moment exactly how I'm going to put this, "I've
been up to a lot of things these days, I keep myself completely swamped, you know that…
and as for Crookshanks, I gave him to my little cousin Olivia, we can't have pets here and she
wanted a cat really bad. Crookshanks seems to like her, so I let her have him."

I expect this little bullshit conversation to continue a bit longer to give Ginny more time to
pull herself together.

"Oh, and one other question." Harry begins. "Was it your idea to let Ginny do this dating
three men a month shit?"

As calmly as I can, I respond. "Ginny is an adult. She can do whatever the hell she wants and
I don't have a say in anything. It doesn't matter if I did or didn't. I'm not her mother, I've got
too much going on to try and become hers."

"Her—" Ron starts lowly.

"No," I cut him off, feeling my temper turn for the worst. I'm going to need to work on that.
"The both of you have some nerve showing up here, ganging up on Ginny like this. Harry,
you're taking a break from her, technically, you both are single—"

"But—" Harry begins.

"But what? I'd really like to hear this, Harry." Ginny pipes in as she wipes the tears from her
eyes with one hand while the other rests on her hip.

"What you don't—" Harry's words die on his lips when the door opens and in walks Draco.
"What the hell?" He turns to Ginny, eyes blazing with fury. "Are you dating him too?"

"Oh, that's it! I've had it with you and your bullshit Harry fucking Potter!" Ginny yells.
Pansy's mouth falls and just before our eyes, Ginny, who looks kind of possessed at the
moment, comes barreling across the room towards Harry. He's about to say something to her
when she reaches back and slaps him as hard as she can muster. The force of her slap is so
strong that his glasses fly off and land at Draco's feet.

Draco looks down, then back up at Harry and smirks. "At least I'm not the only one around
here getting slapped."

Pansy snickers.
I guess that snaps Harry out of his trance and he screams at Ginny. "What the hell is wrong
with you?"

"You!" Ginny points at him, looking like she's having a fit. "I love you, Harry, but I'm through
fighting with you!"

"Gin—"

"Fuck you!" Ron, Pansy, Draco, and I just stand there in a stunned silence when Ginny walks
up to Draco, pauses, and proceeds to stomp on Harry's glasses, making sure to dig her shoe in
good so the lenses are crushed beyond repair. Draco takes a step back away from the crazy
Ginny and over towards me.

She gives them one last stomp for good measure, smiles like she's accomplished the biggest
task of her life, "Owl me when you fucking decide to grow up," and she storms off, slamming
her bedroom door behind her.

Harry starts to go after her, but Ron stops him.

Smart move.

Draco's eyebrow rises at the spectacle and his eyes find mine, I clear my throat. "What kind
of tea do you want?"

"I'll take a rain check on the tea, Hermione. Clearly we just walked into some little lover's
quarrel and I've had enough of that shit for one day." He hands me what looks like a potion.
"It'll help with...the mornings." He pushes it into my hand and I accept it, eyeing it curiously.
"Owl me if you want me to pick you up or meet you at the…" he trails off suddenly.

I don't realise what he talking about until I see Ron and Harry's eyes focus on me in
confusion. Pansy is standing behind them, wildly waving her hands to tell Draco to shut the
hell up. Apparently he got her message. Wish he would've seen it a lot earlier, like before the
last sentence.

"I thought you quit working for him." Ron says.

"I did, but we have other business to tend to."

Ron looks at me crazy.

Draco looks at me like I'm stupid.

Harry looks at me pointedly before speaking. "Since when do you have business with
Malfoy?"

I look at Draco, who clearly is leaving this to me. I glare at him briefly before opening my
mouth to answer, only to be quickly cut off by Draco's cold, "Not that it's any of your
business, Potter, but our business began about a week or so ago when she told me she was
pregnant with our child."
Part Three: Break Myself

"He's a bastard, Hermione."

Glancing over at Pansy and Draco who are talking in front of the fireplace, I find myself
chuckling when she swats him in the shoulder and he stands there, rolling his eyes. I think he
only stayed to see to it that Harry and Ron don't jump all over me and I don't think he's
leaving until they're gone. A bit protective, I think, but I think that's part of his softer side I'm
not familiar with.

However, there is no threat.

Ron is raiding the fridge and Harry is calm.

I smirk to myself when Draco's eyes travel around the room, boredom apparent in his gaze, "I
think I know that more than anyone, but we're trying to muddle through this mess together."
Draco and I lock eyes for a moment and I offer a tiny smile, one that he returns as best as he
can while looking serious. "He's not that bad actually, I just don't think we know him that
well…me included…me especially."

Harry takes a bite of his cookie and looks at me. I know he can't see me clearly, which is a bit
of a relief. "I wish I would've found out earlier, from you."

"I apologise for that, Harry. You're my best friend, okay…and I'm still trying to wrap my
head around all this. I think we both are, but I need your support…yours and Ron's."

Ron pipes up after hearing his name. Surprisingly, he's taken this a lot better than Harry. All
he did was shrug and congratulate us. He then says that he always knew something was going
on between us, and walk off to raid the fridge. Okay, that's the second person who's said that.
Apparently, there was something I was missing.

Reluctantly, Harry sighs and rests his hand on mine, "You know you have it."

"Good, I don't think I can do this without two of my best friends there," I smile and pat his
head, "Besides, you have a more complex situation to deal with."

Harry offers a confused look. "And what is that?"

"Exactly how you're going to get Ginny to stop hating you before you propose."

He smirks. "Yeah, about that…got any ideas?"

"Yeah, don't be a prick to the woman you love. I understand this whole break thing was your
idea so you two can make sure you're right for one another…and I understand that after one
date with Hannah, Parvati, and Cho you realized that Ginny was the one for you. I get that
you kept up this charade for two months to make sure you get everything in order before you
propose—"

"How in the hell did you figure that out?"

"You told Cho that this date was all a mistake and you love Ginny. Cho told Katie one day
after practice. Katie told Susan a few minutes later. Susan slipped up and told Parvati a few
days later when they ran into each other in Hogsmeade. Parvati told Padma almost instantly
after. Padma told Daphne at work. Daphne told Pansy during their shopping trip when she
slapped that guy. And Pansy told me soon after—"

"After all these years, the Hogwarts biggest gossipers are still at it." Harry shakes his head.

I chuckle. "Of course, but that's not the point. You were just asking for her to kick your arse
tonight."

Harry runs his hands over his head, kind of distressed, "I only came here to rile her up a bit.
She sent me an owl yesterday, wondering when we could get together and talk about us…and
I haven't gotten the ring yet. I had to stall her."

"Congrats, you obviously succeeded."

Thoughtfully, he scratches his chin, "I may have taken it a bit far with the Malfoy dating
thing—"

"A bit far? What?" I snort, "Harry, even I thought I was going to strangle you when you said
that."

"Yeah, but you're Hermione. You've slapped me and Ron quite a few times in the last three
years…and let's not even get started on Malfoy."

I smile and shrug innocently.

Harry just shakes his head. "I just didn't think Ginny had it in her to slap me and do a
Riverdance on my glasses."

I bite into a cookie. "Think of what she could've done if she had a wand."
 Seven

Part One: Closest to Heaven

September 24 th

I'm a creature of routine.

Any other way of living makes things difficult…and difficult is one of the many things I can't
stand these days.

I've always wondered why Ron and Harry constantly feel the need to live their lives
spontaneously and always show up to everything tardy when having a schedule is much more
stable and reliable. Of course, like with everything, I try not to go overboard with my routine.
They always say too much of any good thing is always bad.

My schedule is loose, but when my new obstetrician is an hour late, I find myself tapping my
foot and glancing at my wristwatch religiously, highly agitated and hungry. I'm fourteen
weeks pregnant, moody, and ready to get on with my day. We've met four doctors so far and
none of them have been up to par in our opinion. Judging from this waiting room and the fact
that he's late, this one might not make it either.

The room is a fucking madhouse and it smells oddly like baby formula and air freshener, not
exactly the best smell. I hear screaming babies, I mean they are screaming like they're being
tortured. There are toddlers having tantrums all over the place about not wanting to sit down,
shut up, and watch cartoons on the telly. And let's not forget the kids that are running around
like little maniacs, getting into every single thing they can and playing with toys provided by
the office. Some kids are hitting each others with the toys and their piercing cries make me
cringe. I feel kind of bad for the fish in the tanks that the kids are probably scaring to death
by banging toys and their fists on their tanks…

Where are their parents?

They're chatting politely with each other and on their cell phones, like nothing is going on.

"Where the bloody hell is this damn doctor?" I mutter under my breath, aggravated, looking
over at Draco.

He's patiently reading one of the many baby books I purchased for the both of us to read,
licking his finger just before turning the page, "And you claim to be the patient one…hmm,"
And he sounds slightly humoured.

"Shut up," I frown, putting my hand to my ever so slightly protruding stomach, "I'm kind of
hungry."

"You were eating when I picked you up this morning."

I roll my eyes. "That was three hours ago." I've been almost ravenous since the morning
sickness subsided. "I only ate enough to sustain me until the appointment was over and then I
was going to treat us to lunch before I ask you to brave the aisles of the grocery store with
me…but this git is late."

Draco wordless reaches in the jacket of his black suit and pulls out a bag of crisps.

He hands it to me without so much as a glance in my direction, "Bought them while you were
in the loo."

"Bless you," I tear open the bag and eat a few, sighing happily.

Ten minutes later, and I'm back to strumming my fingers on the arm of the chair and checking
my watch, but then the world stops.

I glance downward when Draco's pale hand rests ever so casually on my knee.

And I wonder when things progressed to this level.

We aren't exactly dating, more like friends, or wait, more like two people who enjoy spending
time together. Don't get me wrong, I'd love if we were more, but we're not. We've shared a lot
of pleasant meals in the past few weeks. He sent me, Pansy, and Ginny to the spa last week
on his dime. He's taken me to the movies a couple of times and to see the symphony. We've
gone to mold pottery and make candles together simply because it's something I've always
wanted to do. We went to a Ministry party together and he even went with me to buy a new
car.

For my birthday, he took me out to dinner, gave me flowers, and bought me a book I always
wanted. Exactly how he knew I wanted it will always be a mystery to me. Ginny didn't even
know. Draco and I have spent a couple of Saturdays looking in stores for baby necessities,
making lists of what we're going to before when the baby arrives, but we've agreed not to buy
anything until we find out the sex.

That hasn't stopped our friends, of course.

Pansy bought this gorgeous white hand-woven bassinet for the living room. Ginny bought an
assortment of temperature-controlled blankets and bottles that magically heat the contents.
Ron bought lots of toys, even though I told him the baby won't be able to play with them for
a while after it's born, he didn't care, said something about getting a head start. Draco rolled
his eyes. Katie and Susan bought a variety of classical music to play the music for the baby
throughout the pregnancy and even after birth because apparently classical music makes
babies smarter. Harry bought me possibly the most comfortable pair of slippers ever because
the lady at the baby store said I would need them. Merlin was she ever right. Blaise bought
me a new charmed pillow that changes the degree of fluffiness based on what I want.

But I'm going to be honest; it's not all just fun and games.

Draco and I fight, a lot.

We've had such intense fights that my friends have had to break us up on more than a few
occasions. I've been banished from rooms, he's been kicked out of our flat, and sometimes
we've both been kicked out-until we can get it together, according to Ginny. It's been so bad
that on one particular occasion Draco and I went three days without speaking to one another
before he showed up at the hospital, pulled me in the break room, and fought me tooth and
nail until we worked it out.

Engrossed in his book, Draco barely blinks like the words are going to fly by if he wastes a
nanosecond blinking.

I'd still be anxiously waiting for the doctor had his hand not settled on my knee so casually-
had this little amount of affection not about given me a heart attack.

So, here I sit.

Quietly staring at his hand, wondering if he wants—

"Hermione Granger? The doctor will see you."

And just like that, his hand is gone and my heart begins to beat normally. It's a good thing too
because I'm liable to drive myself crazy with one unspoken gesture.

Draco snaps his book close as I rise to my feet, smoothing down my denims. After I weigh
in, he waits outside the room while I undress and put on the mental patient sheet in this
uncommonly bright and chilly room with the painted smiling baby faces border on pristine
white walls.

Creepy.

And as I lay here on this table, I think

We all know thinking isn't always the best thing for me. Perhaps he's just trying to do the
manly thing. He wants to put his hand on my knee to give me a sense of security. Because
he's here for me and he wants me to know that, but my mind won't stop reeling over the
simple action or the fact that I'd begun to feel those familiar goosebumps start to form. Draco
Malfoy has an affect on my body and heart, one that I understand and acknowledge. I'd be a
liar and an idiot if I didn't.

I've tried for months to get over him. I've tried to convince myself that I just want to be
friends with him, but the more I get to really know Draco Malfoy, the more he opens up to
me. The more he opens up, the more he says all these subtle things to let me know that he
does actually care about me. The more he says all those subtle and touching things, the more
I realise I can't really even think about letting him go.

To be honest, I've never felt this way about anyone before. No one has even cracked the
surface in comparison to how deeply I feel for him, and I highly doubt I'll feel this way about
anyone else ever again. While that used to scare the shit out of me, now it makes me feel
alive…because there is a possibility that I'm not alone in my feelings.
Now, there is hope.

With a quiet knock, Draco sticks his head in, but doesn't look at me, "Are you decent?"

"You've seen me naked before, plenty of times. It doesn't matter, but I am decent."

Shaking his head like I'm being ridiculous, he ignores me and steps in, closing the door
behind him with a small click. He takes the one seat next to the table I'm relaxing back on,
book firmly in his grasp. He looks around the room, noting in a very flat and critical voice,
"There are baby heads painted on the wall."

"I know."

"It's kind of creepy."

"I know that, too."

Draco opens his mouth to speak but the doctor walks in smiling brightly. He's a middle-aged
blonde man with good hair that kind of reminds me of Lockhart, which is never really a good
sign. "Miss. Granger, how are you, I'm Dr. Stewart. I hear that Dr. Rattan recommended you
to me. Is this the father?"

"Yes, he did and yes, he is the father," I look over at the serious-looking Draco.

The assistant comes in, introduces himself, and busies himself with getting the gel and
preparing the machine for the ultrasound.

He gives Draco one dismissive look I don't like and it makes him tense. "Well," he claps his
hands and looks at me and only me, "how are you feeling?" I already know this will be the
last time we see Dr. Stewart. The sound of Draco popping his knuckles lets me know that,
too.

"Pretty well," I watch the assistant while speaking to the doctor, "No more morning
sickness."

"That's great. So, why are you in today?"

Draco speaks up in a cool voice, "Because we need to verify the due date."

The doctor doesn't acknowledge his answer.

I do. Since when does he know the terminology? Apparently he's been reading more than I
thought. I wince when that damn gel gets spread across my stomach, but the annoyance
doesn't last long because as soon as I hear the sound of the heartbeat, I'm in a trance and
staring. I feel Draco's hand rest on mine. I look over at him, stunned, only to find his eyes
transfixed on the screen. Smiling to myself, I turn my head back to look at our growing baby
on the monitor.

He his hands don't move from mine after the sonogram concludes and they don't move after
the doctor leaves to look at the sonogram to determine the baby's due date. After a few
minutes of complete silence, my hand suddenly feels cold and I look down to notice his hand
is gone and he's back to reading the book. I glance over in Draco's direction, settling my eyes
carefully on him as his hand comes to rest on the bed, inches away from mine.

"Are you alright?" I ask him, surprising myself with just how soft my voice is.

Wordlessly, Draco nods.

There's only one thing I can think of to do at this moment. I subtly wipe the palms of my
hand on the sheet to rid them of any sweat that has formed on them, and without further ado,
I gently rest my hand on his, watching his even expression as it slightly alters to a look that
could be…disbelief, but I'll never know, it lasts about a moment. Draco, as always, remains
calm, reading his book without so much as a glance in my direction…but then something
happens…

He slowly flips his hand so we're palm to palm and laces our fingers together.

So now I'm sitting here, heart racing as my entire thought processes cease to function
altogether, which is something that always happens when he touches me.

Draco closes his book the moment the doctor walks back in.

"Well, the baby looks healthy and developing nicely, Hermione. In maybe a month, you'll be
able to tell the sex of the child. You're about 14 weeks along from the looks of it…I'd say
around your due date is around the end of February. Around the twenty-seventh."

The day everything really changes.

I take a deep breath. Wow. Draco's thumb lightly grazes over mine and my eyes lock with his.
And for a moment there, nothing else seems to exist except me and him and the realization
that on that day, we're going to be parents.

"And according to your charts you're gaining weight like you should—"

"Don't remind me." I grumble.

A flicker of a smirk flashes across Draco's face.

Fifteen minutes later, Dr. Stewart and a nurse check me out and leave me with a few bits of
advice and answer a few of my questions while Draco remains silent, watching and listening.
For our enjoyment, we get to listen to the baby's heartbeat through the stethoscope and I
watch his face glaze over in amazement, smirking to myself.

When they leave, Draco gets up to grab my clothes and I get down off the table, walking over
to him. As I dress in my t-shirt and pants, he keeps his back turned and I keep my eyes on
him. Draco turns around when I tell him to, and my eyes catch the mirror he's standing in
front of. He moves and I find myself staring at myself in the mirror, just like I've done every
morning since I noticed the baby bump last week after a shower. I really wouldn't have
noticed it if I hadn't been turned to the side. Nevertheless, I ran into Ginny's room and
showed her too and at lunch, I showed Pansy, who commented, "Holy crap, there's a person
inside you."

Smiling at the memory, my hands rest on my stomach that's just starting to show slightly
through my clothes, I turn to the side and I'm instantly mesmerized by the sight.

It seems like forever away, but its really only five and a half months down the road.

There's so much to do, so much to plan, so much to learn, so much to think about. It's all
overwhelming…and exciting…and terrifying, all at the same time.

The almost inaudible sound of Draco picking at the cufflinks of his suit breaks the silence in
the room. "Can I?" he asks in a quiet, almost nervous voice. His book resides on the bed and
he's standing behind me, so close I can feel the heat of his body on my back. So close that
once again my heart begins to race out of control. He makes my knees weak and my hands
clam up.

"What?" I wonder in a voice that is just as soft, just as nervous, and even as confused as his.

My eyes watch him carefully through the mirror.

"Can I touch?"

I don't know why, but tears fill my eyes. Maybe it's the intensity of the moment we're having
that I didn't even realise we were even having until just now. Maybe it's the realisation that
we are on board with this together and he cares about this baby as much as I do. And maybe
it's because we're going to be parents and it feels real in a way it hasn't before. Nevermind the
reason, I turn around, slowly lifting my shirt over my stomach, "Go ahead."

Slow, slow, slow, his touch is tentative and warm, caressing and affectionate. Soft touches
that make my breathing catch faintly and my insides turn to paste. I don't know what moves
me more, the feel of his slightly trembling hands on me or knowing he's touching our baby,
inadvertently. Our eyes meet and for the first time, his eyes momentarily show exactly what
he's feeling.

This swelling of my heart, this excitement and fear and confusion and awe. I'm not alone in
these feelings.

"Draco," Tears slide down my cheeks as I rest my hand on his. "I, um, I want to—"

A flicker of concern flashes across his face. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm just emotional, that's all," I wipe my eyes, "I'm really happy I decided to keep this baby
and I'm really happy that you're taking an active part in all of this."

Using his thumb to catch a falling tear, he slowly pulls down my shirt, "Thanks for letting
me. Are you ready?"

Nodding and wiping the last of my tears away, Draco instantly takes my hand in his, like it's
natural to hold my hand like this. As we make our way out the building, hands still linked, I
literally feel the heat radiating off them and I find myself smiling at the slight development
of…things.

Together, we walk to the car in a content silence.

It's actually not until we're about to pull out the parking spot that he speaks in a slightly rigid
voice, "Please tell me we're never seeing that obstetrician again."

My snicker is the nail in the coffin for the contented silence, "We're never seeing that
obstetrician again."

"Good…he's a git and he's lucky I didn't curse him."

"I probably would've fought you for the right to hex him. Let's not even talk about the fact
that he smells like cottage cheese. No doctor of mine will be touching me while he smells
like cottage cheese."

The corners of Draco's lips turn slightly upward. "The hunt continues."

Part Two: The red.

After an uneventful lunch, I find myself standing in the cereal aisle, pondering over bran,
what I should eat, or a random sugar cereal, what I want to eat.

Draco, highly peeved with my shopping habits, has taken the list and the little basket and left
to get the rest of the items so we won't be here all day, grumbling about why I decide to live
like a common Muggle. My hand is moments from my heart's desire when I feel someone
standing next to me.

Thinking it's Draco and knowing he's going to say something about my cereal choice, I start
to make my argument, "I know I should get the healthier cereal, but come—" My words die
on my lips when I turn my head and see that it's not Draco standing next to me, but in fact, a
very out-of-place Theodore Nott.

I don't disguise my surprise. "What are you doing here, Nott?"

"Hello to you too, Hermione Granger," is his stiff reply.

Standing to my full height, which leaves him still towering over me, I rest my hand absently
on my stomach and the other on my hip.

I really hate the way he says my entire name like that; like he's trying to be formal and
disconnected. It's not in my head either, I've run into him so many times in the last month I
often wonder if he's got a trace on me because no matter how random, he seems to end up at
the same places as me.

"I didn't mean it like that," I make an attempt to apologise. "I just thought you were someone
else."
"Perhaps, Ginny or Pansy or Luna?" he supplies with a casual wave of his hand.

"Not exactly. I just didn't expect you."

To be honest, I've given him a chance, honestly. I've sat with him a few times in the twenty
minutes it takes for Pansy to show up for tea.

He talks about his childhood, his estrangement from his father and his father's family, as well
as the short-lived reconciliation right before watching his father receive the Dementor's kiss.
He talks about life in America, life with Muggles and his mother, his job, everything. He
talks and I just sit there and listen while my mind wanders to more important things like my
grocery list, what I'm going to have for dinner, and why I have this insatiable craving for
peanut butter…

"You never did answer my question."

Clueless, he folds his arms across his chest, "And that was?"

"What are you doing here in a Muggle market?" I ask in a low voice to make sure no one
overhears us.

"Exploring…you?"

"Shopping," I pick up the box of sugar cereal for effect.

He looks around me briefly, "You don't have a basket."

"Do I need one?"

Nott looks at me closely, "Are you always this defensive?"

"Only when I feel threatened."

"My intention is not to threaten you."

"Well, Nott, what is your intention?" I question, showing my irritation for the first time.
"Because, I don't know what your intentions are."

"Dinner," he says firmly, "just dinner…a date…you and me."

My mouth drops in shock. I blink a few times before trying to speak up—but before any of
that happens, Draco turns down our aisle, carrying the little basket in one hand and wearing a
look of unadulterated aggravation that develops into a look of utter confusion as he
approaches us. Let me just comment that seeing a stern Draco Malfoy carrying a little green
basket like a regular Muggle is probably one of the oddest sights I've ever seen. Odd and
extremely hilarious.

Still, I've never, ever been more excited to see him in my life.
As soon as Nott realises he doesn't have my attention any longer, his head whips in Draco's
direction. I can almost feel the tension sharply escalate when Nott's eyes rest on Draco.
Evidently, these two are not close. Draco's cold greeting tells me this much, "Nott."

Matching his coldness, Nott replies, "Malfoy."

"What are you doing here?"

"Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing."

He looks at me, then back. "I'm with Hermione. If you'll excuse us, I have a meeting in
almost an hour and we need to be going."

He's lying through his damn teeth, which is something I find absolutely hilarious-well I
would if the tension weren't choking me. Flashing a pseudo smile, I pat Nott on the shoulder
while looking at Draco. "Oh, that's right, I'm sorry, I forgot," I look at Nott, "I'll see you
later." And I take Draco's extended hand, allowing him to lead the way to the register.

Silence fall between us.

We're silent while we stand in line. I look at magazines while he remains stoic. We remain
quiet while the girl scans the items. I keep my eyes on the price and he keeps his hands in his
pockets. Silence ensues when he takes the three bags from me and I follow him to the car. I
watch while Draco puts the bags in his trunk. We're silent halfway back to my flat, that is,
until Draco looks over at me. "What did Nott want from you?"

"He was asking me out on a date."

Draco's shoulders tense, but he says nothing more.

Part Three: Anyone Else But You

September 27 th

"I love ice-cream." Luna sing-songs in her dreamy voice, dipping her spoon into the
chocolate portion of the Neapolitan.

"It's the best food in the world." Ginny supplies.

Four cartons of various flavours and a romantic comedy later, we're sitting in the living room
of our flat, pigging out, just the four of us. Quipped with spoons and oven mitts to shield our
hands from the chill of the ice-cream cartons, we all just relax on our floor and catch up on
everything we've managed to miss. It's the first Friday the four of us have spent together
since Luna's been back from Sweden and it feels good.

"Truer words have never been spoken." Pansy puts a spoonful in her mouth and groans.

Ginny looks in my carton, astonished, "Hermione, you're already finished?"

I blush. "What can I say? I had a craving…and I can do that because I'm pregnant." I steal a
spoonful from her carton and stick the spoon in my mouth before she can protest. Pansy and
Luna cackle.

"Speaking of the baby, have you spoken to Draco at all?" Luna asks serenely.

"No," I reply sullenly, "But I don't want to talk about that tonight. I don't know what's up with
him."

Pansy sits up, "I think I should warn you that Draco has no clue how to control his emotions."

"I gathered that."

"I don't think so. You see, Draco doesn't know how to be in a relationship, he doesn't know
how to convey his thoughts and feelings, he hasn't learned…and he hasn't had the best
teachers. I mean, have you met Astoria Greengrass? I'm sure that if Draco told her to hop on
one leg and bark like a dog, she'd do it without even questioning it."

I laugh. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, but I am. Draco's never been with a woman, much less someone who will call him out
on his shit. If you and Draco are serious about starting over, you should know that this is a
learning process for him, all of it. I hope you are patient with him, he's a bit clueless when it
comes to the process of relationships, but he's a fast learner."

I just sit there and stare at Pansy. Who knew she was so insightful?

"Now," she presses on in light tones, "I think is the perfect time for the game."

We love to play the "If" game when it's really late and we're feeling especially silly…so yes,
Pansy is right, now is the perfect time.

The game always start out calm and simple with questions like: "If you could only keep your
legs or your arms, which would it be?" or something like, "If you could be Minister of magic
for one day, what would you do?" And it always gets weird with questions like: "If you could
have one night with a wizard of your choice, but you had to make out with a Hogwarts
professor, would you?"

Yes, when the four of us are together we're pretty juvenile and crazy, oh, and we seem to
relapse to the mental age of thirteen.

"Ginny, you go first."

She smiles. "We'll start this off innocent, Hermione, if you had to lose one of your senses,
which would you lose?"

I think for a minute. "I'm thinking I could ditch smell. Everything still smells funny as hell…
Luna, if you could be a book, what section of the library would they place you in?"
Luna eats a bit more of her ice-cream and dreamily answers. "Non-fiction…Pansy, if you had
your choice, besides Slytherin, what house would you rather the hat sort you into?"

"Don't tell anyone I ever said this because if you do I'd deny it, I'd be a Gryffindor…you all
got away with so much shit."

Ginny and I bust out laughing. She's right.

"Anyways, Ginny, to kick it up a notch, if you could choose, which would you sleep with,
Theodore Nott or Neville Longbottom?"

"Hands down, Neville. Nott is creepy…I think we can all safely agree to that."

Everyone, even Luna, nods on that. My nod is a little more fervent after that day in the
market.

"Anyways, Hermione…forget I'm Ginny…if you had your choice, Harry or Ron?"

"Harry, I already had Ron and clearly I—"

I'm cut off by Draco Malfoy emerging from the fireplace, in all black, pale and severe as
ever.

Astonished and a bit unhinged by his sudden presence, I spring to my feet, knocking the
empty carton of ice-cream off my lap and onto the floor. Ginny stands up with me, Pansy
looks confused, and Luna stares at the scene unfolding before her eyes very distantly. Draco's
eyes scan the room swiftly, taking in the muted television, the cartons of ice-cream, and all
four of us in pajamas before his eyes rest on me. My hands are on my hips and I'm shifting
my weight from foot to foot, not smiling, not at all.

I haven't spoken to him since he dropped me off three days ago. It's not because I didn't try;
he didn't respond to any of my owls. He blocked off his Floo, told his secretaries to tell me
he's out of the office, and abruptly cancelled our scheduled dinner yesterday. Needless to say,
I'm not very pleased to see Draco Malfoy.

"Its late. You could've, I don't know, owled me back, Draco, if you wanted to talk." I fold my
arms across my chest.

He, naturally, straightens the pictures on the fireplace, making sure they are perfectly aligned
diagonally of one another. I feel my temperature rise as I watch him, quietly contemplating
whether I want to strangle him with my bare hands or find my wand and leaving him
dangling in front of the fireplace until I get tired of seeing him every morning.

Ginny grabs Luna and Pansy by the hands and leads them out the room, but I see an
extendable ear lying on the ground.

Eavesdroppers.

After another moment of silence, Draco finally speaks up. "You can't go out with him."
I'm sure my head jerks back like I'm having whiplash. "Excuse me?"

"Nott!" he exclaims in a frustrated tone, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning away
from me, "You can't go out with him."

I stride across the room until I'm right next to him. His eyes remain averted to the wall while
mine remain firmly on the man in front of me. "Did you come over here to tell me that?
Because if you did, you're wasting your b—"

He cuts his eyes at me. "Look—"

"No, you look, Draco. You've got no right to bust in my flat after ignoring me for three days,
interrupt my night with my mates, and tell me who I can and who I can't date. You've got
some nerve, Draco! I don't know what else crawled up your arse and died but I suggest it
crawls out. I don't appreciate you showing up here and treating me like you own me."

"I never said I did."

This ominous silence falls between us and suddenly I find myself tired. I'm tired of yelling
and screaming. I'm tired of his mood swings when everything goes from good to bad in an
instant. I'm tired of his temper tantrums when he, like now, comes barreling into the room,
angry about Merlin knows what. And I'm really tired of being frustrated.

"Draco," I look at him with pure frustration in my eyes, "Why the hell are we fighting? I don't
even know what the fuck we're arguing about. Just be honest with me about what's bothering
you."

Six silent minutes later, after dusting his pants off, Draco lets loose a sigh and looks at me. "I
don't want you to go out with Nott."

"Why not? Are you jealous of him or something?"

"No," he says rather dully and I think he's lying.

I reel at the thought and possibility of Draco actually being jealous of someone who asked me
out.

"Because we're—" He groans in aggravation, "We…" he trails off and takes a few steps away
from me, clearly teetering on edge.

What the hell is wrong with him? Confused at Draco's sudden inability to speak, "We're
what? Last I checked we're two single people who can do and date whoever the hell we want.
We may be having a baby together, but we're not bound to each other. You've got no hold on
me and what I do and vice versa." I put my hands on my hips, I just want him to spit out
whatever is the matter with him so I can kick him out and get back to playing the "If" game
with my mates. "Draco, why do you not want me to go out with Nott? Just tell me, just be
honest, and stop—"

"He's not good enough for you."

Well, that's not an answer I expected to come from him. Now I'm curious.

"Oh, and who do you think is good enough for me?"

"No one," he admits with a grumble, "But, I was—" Draco pauses and fixes his lips sternly,
like he's determined.

Our eyes lock and I see a bit of softness in them, just a touch, just enough to make me no
longer want to dangle him in front of the fireplace until the end of time.

When he speaks, he turns his head away from me; his voice is raw and honest. "No one is
good enough for you, Hermione, but I'm hoping I'm not out of chances with you."

I've dreamed about this moment, albeit my dreams don't have him barreling into my flat.
They don't involve me looking hideous…and I'm not pregnant in this dream either.

Try as I may, I can't deny the feelings I have for him. I just can't. "Are you saying all this
because of the baby?" I have to make sure because I want him to want me, not just because of
this baby, not because of sympathy either.

I'm sure he's so frustrated with me right now that he wants to throw something, but he just
sighs and speaks to me with his eyes closed. "No, the baby has nothing to do with this. I just
want a chance. That's all I've wanted for the last three years, one month, and twenty-nine
days. Just a chance." His eyes open and pierce right into mine.

And everything makes sense right now.

"You were jealous of Nott." I realise aloud, thumping myself in the head. "That's why you
were so quiet after we walked away from him, that's why you've been avoiding me for three
days, that's why you came here tonight trying to convince me not to date him. You panicked
when I told you he asked me out…now it all makes sense."

"Glad to quench your curiosity," he says rather petulantly, glaring sharply. It's the kind of
glare one gives when you've hit a soft spot dead on and it hurts…the truth always hurts.

"Draco," I sigh and look at him. "You really don't have a reason to be jealous."

"Oh, I don't? He was—"

I cut him off before he can argue his point, "Nott's been asking me out for weeks in his own
subtle ways, but there's no way I'd ever date him. There's something not right with him, he's
condescending and more self-centered than you are. I'd rather sit with you in silence than
listen to him rattle on about his life…at least you care about me. He's rude to me all the time;
he's always questioning everything like I'm lying to him, even when I'm not. I can think of a
trillion reasons why I won't date him, but it all boils down to one—"

"Which is what, Hermione?" his voice is soft and calm and I feel him move in front of me.

My eyes wander up to his. "He's not you."

With those words spoken, we stand in silence, staring at one another and letting the words
reverberate and bounce off the walls. All I can do is think about the whirlwind we've been
through in the past three and a half month, how we've gone from a confused, painful mass of
nothing to, dare I say it, something. We've gone from having sex to screaming; from lust to
hate; from pleasure to pain; from ignorance to familiarity; from strangers to friends. I've gone
from wanting nothing to do with him to planning to raise a child with him.

And all this thinking has only made me realise just how fucked up we are.

No, seriously.

Draco and I are fucked up.

Us as a couple will be the most toxic relationship known to man. We'll flicker between two
extremes, we'll fight and play, we'll have good days and bad days…but I'm positive that we'll
do it all together because no matter how fucked up we are, I'm beginning to think that there is
something between him and I, something inexplicable, something palpable. It's like every
single time I try to rid my life of him, something always happens that brings us back together.
It's like someone or something is trying to tell us something…

Something we're too bloody stubborn to listen to.

"Draco," my voice is soft, "Why do you think it took us three years to confess all of that to
each other? Why do you think it's taken me starting a new career, running away from you, a
slew of fights and mixed signals and miscommunication, a lot of insanity and a baby to get us
to this point?"

He sighs. "I don't know."

"Do you honestly think we can make it work?"

"I don't know that either, but I think we should at least attempt."

"Maybe take our time, let things develop, not just rush into things, be honest, and
communicate this time."

He smirks and nods. "Sounds like a plan."

"We've never had one of those before so I figured we may need one this time."

But maybe I'm beginning to understand all this relationship business better.I think I
understand why none of my past relationships have worked out, why Draco is as clueless as
he is about being involved with someone, and why the two of us can't communicate any of
our feelings unless we're at each other's throats. I've come to the conclusion that I'm missing a
book. Seriously…but the horrible thing about this missing book is that it doesn't even fucking
exist.

There's no book on how you should meet a person, who you should meet, what you should
say to the person you meet, or even how you can make things work between that person. But
that doesn't mean people won't try to write one. Merlin, there are a trillion and one advice
books that claim to have the answers, there are all these ads on the telly that claim they can
get you matched with the perfect man of your dreams. Witch Weekly constantly publishes all
these little articles that claim to have all the answers about men and relationships. There are a
million psychologists and love doctors who claim they know exactly what they're writing
about…but they're all lies.

Every single one of them.

There's no blueprint to relationships or even love.

Each relationship is different and special.

Some relationships, like Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, come easy. Others, like Harry and Ginny,
don't come as easy as people think. And some, like me and Draco, are next to impossible, but
not unattainable. It just means we're going to have to work harder than everyone else to make
it work. We have to muddle our way through everything, together, we have to try, we have to
want it to work out, and we have to go through hell and high water before we find some
happy medium.

We're so similar, I've come to realise. We're extremely stubborn, proud, guarded, and bad-
tempered. We have a tendency to walk away from arguments and I'm sure we equally drive
one another crazy. In knowing this, I have to think before I get angry at him, trust him enough
to allow myself to give in to him, and I have to be patient. And Draco has to learn how to
communicate with me, trust me enough to let me in, and to not be so bloody proud.

Draco and I-we're going to be amazing when it's good, terrible when it's bad, and disastrous
when it's ugly. But with his stubbornness and mine, with his charm and my brains, and with
his unwavering composure and my moments of sheer insanity, I'm sure we'll be damned
before we give up without a fight…

"Hermione."

I don't have a second longer to think about love or relationships or how hard we're going to
be fighting to stay together because before I know it I feel his body press against mine ever
so slightly. I feel lips press against my forehead tentatively. Strangely, he smells of cologne
and Floo powder, and the combination makes me smile. Draco wraps his arms around me,
pulling my body into his…and the world is still.
 Eight

Part One:Parks

October 15 th

I love parks.

There's something about the nature here that's magical. Here, a tree isn't just a tree here, but a
storyteller rich with history. The initials carved into its bark tell a quick love story; one we
don't know how it begins or ends. Maybe they stay together, maybe they don't, but all we
know is right then and right there they were in love. And I love watching people interact with
nature.

How they walk around in awe of everything, even if they've been here a hundred times. I can
see the exact moment a sense of peace washes over them. They're happy and it no longer
matters how bad their day was before they arrived or what they have to do when they go back
to the real world. All that matters is here and now and I really think this is the human race at
its finest.

Today, on this uncommonly warm Saturday afternoon, my eyes wander to the concession
stands, filled to the brim with little kids and their parents and other adults, all looking happy
and excited and smiling and it makes me wonder about their lives. It makes me wonder what
they do for a living, if they're married, if they have kids, who they are here with, their
hobbies, if their kids are around, why they come to this park, and if they are as happy as they
look.

But these questions go unanswered.

I'm sidetracked when I see a couple who look very much in love take their place at the end of
the line.

How do I know they are in love? It's obvious, really. I see the man and woman holding hands
and I find myself watching them. Sometimes I think I know what it feels like to be that close
to someone, but I'm not sure. Sometimes I think I know how it feels to care about someone so
much they I can't stand to walk beside them without holding their hand and showing the
world that "he's with me and I care for him."

They're smiling at a child eating popcorn and I bet they're wondering about their own future
kids. I see her smile and laugh at something he says. He smiles back, leaning over to kiss her.

The sight brings a smile to my face.

"Hermione," a voice breaks into my reverie.

My head whips around when I hear my name, and quickly my eyes rest on Draco.
I glance at my watch. He's just on time. He's approaching the bench I'm sitting on, pale as
ever and dressed in this crisp black suit, looking firm, as always. But now his lips slightly
turn heavenward when he sees me. In his hand is a picnic basket and it may not be much to
anyone else, his slight smile or his picnic basket, but to me, it's everything I've ever dreamed
about.

And this sight brings a smile to my face too.

When he drops a kiss on my cheek, I chide gently. "You look ridiculous dressed in all black."

"I have an image to uphold."

"I'm sure you do. Draco Malfoy: Crypt-Keeper." I laugh at myself.

Draco rolls his eyes.

"I'm dying to know how you're not hot."

"Coolant charms, but not today. It's not too warm out here."

"It's nice to know that my hypothesis is correct."

With a soft snort, he takes my hand in his, helps me off the bench, and leads us to the perfect
spot away from everyone to set up our picnic. One hand rests on my back while the other
rests on my larger bump, my face is twisted into a humored smile, and my eyes watch Draco
as he lays the blanket on a patch of grass, sits on the blanket, and opens the basket. With
slight hesitance, I sit across from Draco, legs crossed in Indian-style, eager to see what he's
brought.

We've been having lunch in a different park everyday for the last week, when the weather
permits.

It's just so pretty out here, I find myself craving to be outdoors all the time, and he doesn't
argue, much.

Leaning forward a little, I ask. "Did you bring the peanut butter?"

He whips out a little individual tube of peanut butter. "Yes."

I take the tube, tear it open with my teeth, and quench my craving, "Oh, that's good peanut
butter. Did you bring the cookie?" I sit the empty tube down and smile eagerly like a kid on
Christmas morning.

"Yes, and the candy." He produces an individual cookie in a little paper bag and a bag of sour
watermelons.

I tuck them in my bag and take a bite from the cookie before sitting it next to the empty
plastic tube. "You should be nominated for sainthood…oh," I remember suddenly, "What
about my leek and potato soup?"
He pulls it out and hands it to me with a spoon. "I remembered the apple juice, too."

I open the container and smell the contents. It smells heavenly. "Must've had your assistant
running all over London to get all that stuff, huh?"

"No, I got it."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously, it wasn't hard. Just made a few calls and picked it up on the way here."

Quietly, I chuckle at the thought of Draco picking up random food before asking, "What did
you bring for yourself?"

"I had a brunch meeting this morning, I already ate."

"Well, I feel like a pig because I'm eating and you're not."

"Its okay, Hermione, just eat. I don't want to hear you whine about being hungry at the
Quidditch match."

Yes, you heard him correctly.

We're going to Hogwarts to watch the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor match in about three hours
with Pansy, Ginny, and Ron.

I don't exactly know how I got roped into going. Pansy brought it up afterthe yoga class the
three of us are taking together since we can't go jogging together in the mornings. Ginny said
she wanted to go. She brought it up to Ron and he said he wanted to go. Ginny also
mentioned it to Draco while he was dropping me off by Floo after taking me for ice-cream
after work. And Draco brought it up to me in an owl two days ago. The next thing I know,
I'm going too. Well, it beats being alone…and it'll be nice to see Hogwarts.

"Not like you're going to hear me anyway," I smirk. "You're going to be all into the match.
All of you are."

Fifteen minutes later, I finish eating and find myself stretched out across the blanket, my head
in Draco's lap, staring at the sky with one hand in his and the other resting thoughtfully on
my stomach. There is this constant whooshing sensation happening now. It's the baby
moving. I haven't told him that it happens everytime he touches my stomach, but that's the
truth. I have a feeling our baby recognises its father and at that thought, my heart swells to
capacity.

After searching for so long, we've found the perfect doctor yesterday and to celebrate we had
our first official date last night. I have to admit it went well. We had dinner at Malfoy Manor
where we didn't speak a word about the baby. With my hand clasped in his, we walked
around the beautiful gardens (the only part that remained after the Manor was torn down)
where Draco pointed out every flower and tree that he could recognise or held some
significance to his family, and we ended the night in the hammock Pansy bought for our
patio, just talking. It was simple; I've been pretty tired lately and I don't think I could've taken
anything more strenuous.

And as I sit here, I begin to wonder, if I weren't pregnant, would we be here right now? I
don't know if I can answer that, to be honest, because I can't live my life thinking "what if?"
All I can do is live in the now and right now, all the circumstances have led us to where we
are right now.

Right now, Draco's starting to slowly open up to me.

Right now, I'm starting to allow myself to relax, slightly.
Right now, Draco's starting to unwind, just a bit.

And right now, I'm at peace…with everything.

Part Two: Won't back down

The "Go, go, Gryffindor!" celebration chant is on and I sit here in the neutral seats, feeling
nostalgic at best.

With a diving leap for the snitch, the Gryffindor seeker puts them over Slytherin 240 to 100.

"Yes!" Ginny and Ron exclaim, jumping from their seats.

Draco scorns a cheering Ron and shoves ten galleons into his open palm. Ron does a little
dance in his seat that makes us all laugh outrageously. Ginny pumps her fist in the air and
sticks her tongue out at a sulking Pansy.

"We always were better and we always will be." Ron brags.

"Oh, can it, Weasley!" Pansy sneers, "They let those bloody Gryffindors win out of pity."

"You sound a bit bitter, Pansy." Luna comments dreamily.

All of us laugh.

Pansy folds her arms across her chest and looks at Luna with a raised eyebrow. "You were in
Ravenclaw, why the hell are you cheering for Gryffindor?"

Luna shrugs, "When Ravenclaw isn't playing, I like to cheer for the better team."

I snicker while Ginny and Ron outright laugh.

Draco looks at me and glowers. "I know you've got something smart to say."

An innocuous smile appears on my face. "Of course not…it's just that—"

"Don't even go there."

Struggling to keep my affect flat. "I was merely pointing out that—"
His grip on my knee slightly tightens, "Hermione, I'm warning you."

"Now you know your threats don't scare me," I roll my eyes and swat at him like a fly on the
wall, "All I was doing was merely commenting on the fact that even without Harry, Slytherin
still is inferior in Quidditch to the Gryffindors," And then I quickly high-five Ginny and Ron,
who are still celebrating.

Draco sulks with Pansy, but his hand rests again on my knee.

I smile and my eyes catch the celebrating Gryffindors.

It's been four years since I last stood in the stands with Ginny and Luna with her life-like
roaring lion head, Gryffindor scarf billowing in the wind, cheering for Harry and Ron like a
maniac, as a Gryffindor. I can't believe it's really been four years. So much has changed, so
much, and it's changed so fast. In four years, we've tested the bonds of friendship, lost a few
dear friends, fought in a war, laughed and cried, gained a few more trusty friends, traveled all
over Britain looking for horcruxes, and so much more that doesn't even spring forth in my
mind.

My eyes drop down to Draco's hand that's resting on my knee.

That's a change too.

If someone told me four years ago that not only would I be officially dating Draco Malfoy,
but we're to be parents of a baby, I would've laughed in their face and deemed them mental
like Professor Trelawney. Four years ago my life was going down a completely different
path. I wanted Ron more than I wanted anything ever, but he had Lavender. Four years ago, I
was trying to convince Harry that Malfoy wasn't up to anything evil. Four years ago, I was
harboring jealousy towards Harry's sudden increase in aptitude in Potions.

Four years ago. Wow.

Just thinking about all that makes me clutch my jacket closer to me and makes me realise
how completely different I am. But it's not a bad different. I've managed to loosen up some,
I've managed to live a little, I've managed to break a few rules (not that I hadn't before), and I
even managed to see the good in things, even when they appear to be bad.

After the match, we head into the school to Professor Slughorn's office. He's invited us and a
few of the other important alumni present for tea and treats in his office.

We're waiting for him to arrive when the door to his office opens and a loud gasp brings me
out of my nostalgic daydreams. "Oh…bless my stars! Hermione Granger? Have my eyes
failed me? Are you seriously here on your own accord at a Quidditch match?" Her manicured
hands rest on her heart as if the sight of me is giving her a heart attack.

Leave it to Parvati to be so bloody dramatic about these things.

I smile, getting up from my seat and approaching the witch in the expensive bright red robes
and heels, "Parvati! Hey, how are you?" I hug her. I haven't seen her since the early part of
Draco's birthday party before she disappeared with her date.

"Just wonderful," she replies in a posh manner.

I'm sure she is just wonderful. Parvati has made quite the name for herself in the social world.
Knowing not only for her highly popular gossip column, she also has a hand in some serious
hard-hitting journalism stories. How she manages to balance these things out, I'll never know,
but she's handling it all marvelously. She takes her place across the table from me, between
Pansy and Ron, chatting very candidly about a new story she's writing about the effects of the
second war on the children of Voldemort's victims and I find myself intrigued.

"There are thousands of children in various wizarding orphanages all over Europe because of
the second war and a lot of them are not being adopted," she begins, "Its like people don't
want to associate with the second war. Padma's in the process of adopting a little girl right
now and they aren't making it easy for her and Rodger. I hope that this story will change
that."

Honestly, I don't think I've ever heard Parvati speak so passionately about a topic that didn't
involve gossip and terrible breakups of couples who should be together. A bit shocking,
really.

"I didn't know Padma and Rodger were adopting," Ginny comments.

"They've been trying almost a year now. They've been trying to give them a baby, but they
want a little girl. She's about seven and her parents were killed because they didn't pass
information to Voldemort about four years ago."

"That's horrible."

Conversation moves to a lighter note minutes before Slughorn comes walking in, jolly as
ever. "It's so wonderful to have some of my best and most successful here," Slughorn raves,
greeting us all. With a wave of his wand, tea and treats appear on the table in front of us, "So,
what did you five think about the Quidditch match?"

While the four of them chatter on with Slughorn about the highlights of the match, how
talented the teams are, and everything else, I find myself attracted to the peanut butter
cookies on the table. I can literally imagine how it tastes and I want it. I must have it. I must
have it now. So with a glare and a swat of my hand, I keep Ron's paws off the one I want
while he and Pansy spar it out over the quality of the house teams this year.

Nobody is eating my damn cookie and I will fight the person who tries.

When Ron isn't looking, I snatch it for myself and savor it. It tastes better than I imagine.

Why didn't anyone introduce me to the world of peanut butter goodness sooner? I've wasted
years of my life not eating it.

"Is it good?" a cool voice beside me inquires aloud.

My eyes fly open and lock with Draco's instantly. "What?"

"The cookie you're practically molesting," is his slightly humored reply.

"Shut up, it's peanut butter," I cut back, looking at him like he's stupid. Of course it's good.
It's peanut butter!

Hearing the exchange, Ginny snickers at us, which makes the argument end and everyone
turn their attention to the giggling redhead.

Parvati is confused. "What's so funny?"

Ginny shakes her head. "It's hard to explain."

Suddenly warm, I stand to remove my jacket, making sure I hang it on the back of my chair.
Draco mouths a quick "are you okay?" and I nod with a tiny grin, a bit touched that he's
concerned. I'm about to sit back down when Parvati gasps in shock, "Hermione!"

Startled by her outburst, I jump and look at her crazy, "What?"

"You're—you're pregnant!" she exclaims with strangled breath.

And all eyes shift to me. I sit timidly back in my seat, "Hadn't realised it was that obvious."

"Merlin, your shirt is fitted, it's obvious!"

Slughorn pipes up to this bit of news, "My, my, that's certainly is good news. Your baby will
no doubt take after you, Miss. Granger," he comments, stuffing a cookie into his mouth.
Better had not been a peanut butter one or he's going down.

Parvati squeals, "Hermione, I'm so excited…you and Ron must—"

Draco looks furious.

Ron's face goes from smiling to about as white as a sheet in about a nanosecond. It's like
night and day and right now he looks like he did when he puked up snails.

He stammers out almost in hysterics. "Ron? What does Ron have to do with anything?" I
really hate it when Ron speaks about himself in the third person. Just ridiculous.

Parvati looks like she's about to have an aneurysm from thinking too hard, "But she's carrying
—"

He throws his hands up as if to say "No bloody way" and shakes his head vigorously like the
thought of us having a baby together is equivalent to being trapped in a room full of
werewolves with no way out, "Ron is not the father of Hermione's baby. Not Ron, no way," I
glare at him, a bit offended by his tone, but he quickly cleans it up. "Uh, umm…it's not that I
—I wouldn't mind—" he's cut off by a glare from Draco that has the potential to do some
serious damage. "Oh, bloody hell, I can't please anyone, Ron will just shut up and eat his
bloody cookie." He sulks while a cackling Ginny pats his back and the equally humored
Pansy ruffles his red hair.
She takes a sip of tea, thoughtful, "Well, if it's not Ron—"

"And it's not Ron's," Ron informs again, "let me be perfectly clear about that. Ron is not
going to be a father."

I fold my arms across my chest, "You can stop talking about yourself in the third person,
Ron."

He flashes a smile, gingerly.

"Well if Ron's not the father, who is?" Parvati stares at me intently, as if she can just pluck the
answer from my head if she looks hard enough.

Sorry, but I'm not a ruddy pensieve and I'm good at Occlumency.

Draco stirs his tea patiently for a moment before replying squarely, "I am."

I don't know what happens first: Parvati's jaw dropping dangerously close the table or
Slughorn's eyes nearly bulging from his sockets. But Slughorn, after stammering quite a bit
and nearly choking on his tea, speaks up. "Merlin, the first Malfoy heir. I think it's wonderful
that you're pregnant, Miss. Granger, your baby, no doubt will be a fine addition to Hogwarts
books."

Graciously, I smile.

"Excuse me professor, but holy shit, you and Malfoy…" I can see the wheels in Parvati's head
spinning out of control, never a good thing when you're dealing with Parvati Patil, "Having a
baby together…" she keeps on speaking, rather breathlessly, like she's trying to grasp what
this really means. Mystified by her barmy behavior, I watch Draco's brow rises slowly; a
humorous smile splashes across my face, "Merlin, this will be huge news…just huge!" her
eyes rest on us and a small evil smile appears. Oh no. "Can I please, please make the
announcement in my column?"

Head in hands, I groan, "Parvati—"

She's in full-on begging mode. "Oh, pretty please! Please! It'll be the biggest issue ever!"

"Yeah and I'll get harassed by everyone."

"They're going to find out anyway, it's not like you can hide it," Pansy says with a shrug. "It
can't hurt…"

Ginny and Ron agree with a nod of their head.

Staring at the table thoughtfully. "I haven't told everyone yet. I haven't told Mr. and Mrs.
Weasley or my boss."

"I can wait until you do," an excited Parvati barters.

"Well," my eyes scan the table for another peanut butter cookie. Draco hands me a napkin
with one peanut butter cookie inside and I find myself grinning at him. He just shakes his
head. I take a bite before looking at a mildly humored Parvati, who finally realises that I have
a peanut butter craving. "I think this is something Draco and I need to talk about, and now
isn't the time."

"Time for what?" a familiar voice speaks up from the doorway.

Everything falls to a dead silence, except Parvati who is, I think, talking to herself. My eyes
slowly make their way to the door to Slughorn's office. I don't even know why I'm looking; I
already know who it is: the omnipresent Theodore Nott, who looks just as detached and
creepy as usual. For a moment, I just survey Theodore Nott. His brown hair, and hard,
angular face, almost chiseled out of rock, trying to disguise his agitation. His slightly nervous
stance tells me he's a bit uneasy about walking into a crowded room, but tries to hide it with a
façade of confidence. His eyes like quartz, twin blaze of blue that land right on me. I quickly
look away.

Draco visibly tenses.

Pansy and Ginny exchange looks.

Luna stares around the quiet room.

Ron pathetically excuses himself to go visit the Gryffindor common room to chat with the
Quidditch players.

"Oh, Theodore Nott! There you are. I thought you left after the match. I was so fascinated
with your work at the Ministry. Will you be joining us?" Slughorn asks, but jumps from his
seat and leads him to the last free seat, next to me. "Sit, sit, you haven't missed much. Miss.
Granger was just announcing her pregnancy. If you'll excuse me for a few minutes, I'll be
right back. Then we can chat all about what you all have been up to."

He walks right out the door, leaving us all here, sitting in an uncomfortable silence.

That son of a…

I don't see Nott's eyes, but I can feel them, so I avoid eye contact as much as possible. He
makes me uncomfortable—maybe it's the fact that he's always staring at me. It's like he's
always trying to stare straight into my mind, to find some discrepancy with my stories. No
thank you, no seeing my thoughts today. Draco pulls our entwined hands over onto his lap,
probably to make me feel better and I really do appreciate the unspoken sign of support…that
he's with me even though things are likely to get very ugly.

The new addition to the room clears his throat and speaks. "You're pregnant?"

Draco replies rather sarcastically. "Why would she announce her pregnancy if she wasn't
pregnant?"

My head whirls around to him. "Draco, stop being a git."

"It's kind of hard for him to stop what comes so naturally." Nott sneers.

Draco hits him with a look that's colder than the iceberg that sank the Titanic. This escalated
quickly. "Fuck you. You've been jealous of me since we were children."

He laughs. "Oh, you wish. Why would I be jealous of someone who's head is so swollen he
can barely fit out the room?"

Are they seriously hurling insults like children? Yes, I do believe they are. Pansy looks as
humored as I feel, but I don't dare crack a smile because all of a sudden, I'm at full
understanding that I'm in the worst seat ever.

"Can't come up with anything better than that, Nott? Well, that's just pathetic, isn't it?
However, it's not terribly surprising. I know this may be hard for you, but do try to be more
creative next time and not try to attack me with insults I've heard ever since First Year. It's
weak and trifling and I don't feel the need to waste my breath responding."

Holy shit.

I look at Pansy with helpless eyes, only to see her having a silent conversation with Ginny.
Luna is humming a song I don't recognise and Parvati is watching the sparring match I'm
currently in the middle of, thoroughly confused, but amused. Nott wisely backs down from
his argument with Draco, but turns his attention to me. "Why didn't you tell me you were
pregnant? I thought we were friends."

Friends? Is he serious? I don't know who tenses more, me or Draco, but all I do know is that
my hand hurt a bit. Slowly, I pull my hand from his and shake the feeling back into it under
the table, my eyes firmly set on Nott. How can he claim to be my friend when he knows
nothing about me? How can he claim to be my friend when he sneers at me, when he doesn't
even care about anything concerning me, and when all he ever does is drone on and on about
himself and his day. And sure, we've had tea together a few times, only because I was waiting
for Pansy, I just don't understand where he got the idea that we were friends.

"It was more on a need to know basis." I explain.

"Well, who's the father?"

"I am." Draco answers his question evenly.

Nott shakes his head. "I confess I'm disappointed in you Hermione Granger, I thought you
had better taste."

It's as if he slapped me full in the face and I feel myself reeling at his words. Every single
word is full of this stinging contempt and dislike—and something that suspiciously sounds
like regret. With little effort, my mind flashes back to my dad and all of a sudden I'm seeing
colors. I slam my fist on the table just as Draco stands. ready to say more, but I don't let him.
"Who the hell do you think you are? You two may not like each other, but leave me, my taste,
and our baby out of your feud." I get up, turn to him, and rest my hand on his chest to calm
him and his racing heartbeat, "Sit down, Draco."
Luna is startled to silence by my outburst and moves from her spot next to Draco to the
empty spot next to Ginny. From the corner of my eye, I see Pansy holding her wand out to
me, as if silently asking. "Do you need it?" With a small shake of my head because I have
mine, I lock eyes with Draco, willing him to just sit down so we can get through this tea
without hurling curses and hexes. "Please."

"Not until he apologises to you."

My heart flutters and races at this for this demented reason: he's defending me. Part of me just
wants to sit back and watch him fight for me, but the more rational part starts speaking first,
"It doesn't matter, just stop being so fucking proud and sit down."

"No, I want an apology. He has no right—"

"I wouldn't wait on that, Malfoy," Nott interjects, "I'd rather go to Azkaban than apologise."

"And you bloody well deserve to be there."

"Who the hell are you to talk about deserving to be in Azkaban? After what you did Sixth
Year, I'm sure there's a cell with your name on it, but no, you get to walk around free, live
your life, do whatever the hell you want, and spawn bastards."

I spin around. I don't know where the hell Pansy comes from, but she appears on my side,
hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me down. I detect she's doing the same thing to Draco
and its not working. His dark words convince me of his anger. "The only bastard I see in this
room is you."

"You are way out of line, Nott," Ginny argues, eyes blazing, "You have no right to talk about
anyone like that."

"Stay out of this, Ginevra."

With a firm grip, Luna keeps her in the chair. "Call me that one more bloody time and I will
forget I'm a witch, jump across this table, and beat you with my bare hands."

Nott ignores Ginny and stares at me. "You let this little git get your pregnant? What were you
thinking?"

"Only you, Nott, wouldn't know how the process works. Haven't had enough experience in
the area, hmm?"

"Shut up, Draco! You're not making this any easier," I exclaim and turn my head to Nott,
"And you, you don't have a right to talk to him like that…or me for the matter. I'm almost
five months pregnant, Draco is the father and we're together, and that's the end." I say finality,
indicating that the conversation is over.

A tense silence quickly befalls on us all.

I sit down and scoot my chair closer to a seething but seated Draco. His hand finds mine and
takes my fingers in a soft squeeze. He does that a lot these days, while we're on the
hammock, when we're sitting in the living room, when I'm lying on his lap in the park after
eating, when we're talking, when we're walking down Diagon Alley, all the time. And I
confess that his presence is one of the main reasons I start to calm down…the other reason is
the peanut butter cookie I'm currently enjoying.

Too bad my friends aren't.

Ginny is ready to fight. Pansy is back in her seat, but frowning and glaring at Nott, who's
breathing hard for some unknown reason. Poor Parvati is fucking confused. And Luna is now
eating a cookie, completely spaced out.

Nott's rueful laughter fills the tense room, "I can't believe I wasted my breath asking you out
all those times."

"I can't either."

"You're nothing special, nothing like I thought. Just another pregnant-"

There is no sponge strong enough to soak up the rage. I don't know where it comes from but
the next thing I know, I've mustered up the strength to take out a hundred men and I use it to
shove Nott out his chair. His body hits the floor hard, so hard dishes on the table rattle,
Parvati jumps, and Nott groans, releasing a few choice curse words as he slowly picks
himself up off the floor-only to see me standing over him, wand pointed threateningly at him.

He pales.

"Now that I have your attention," I push the chair that separates us out the way. "I want an
apology, right now, and if you don't give it to me in five seconds, Hogwarts is going to be
littered with pieces of you. I can guarantee that."

I'm particularly pleased with his "just shit my pants" expression.

Part Four: Perfect

October 16 th

"Is there anything you need?" Luna asks before stepping into the fireplace to floo home.

I shake my head. "Not really, but the pizza is on its way and that's all I need. Thanks for
asking."

With a quick grin, Luna leaves in a burst of green flames and everything is silent.

So here I am; a sight for sore eyes with frizzy hair and crumpled clothes. The flat is cool and
eerily quiet without Ginny here. She's at an extended Quidditch practice and I realise that
when she's out of town for matches, those nights will be the longest. I'll have to invite Pansy
or Luna over to keep me company. I don't think I could live here alone. Even with her here,
sometimes our three-bedroom flat seems too big for just the two of us. But, I suppose, we're
going to need the extra space soon too.
Meditatively, my thoughts drift to Draco as my hand drifts to my stomach.

We got into a colossal row on the train home from Hogwarts; what we were fighting about
was so meaningless I don't even remember exactly what it was about. It started with a joke
and morphed into something horrible. Still, the fight was so intense and our voices were so
loud Pansy put a strong silencing charm on us while she, Ginny, and Luna moved to a
different compartment, leaving us alone to glare and frown at one another. He told me once
we arrived on the platform, that when I decide to calm the fuck down, let him know so we
can talk like mature adults and not teenagers.

Obviously, we haven't spoken since.

I'm not really mad anymore. I can even admit that I'm at fault. But I can't swallow my pride
enough to apologise.

Not yet anyway.

I'm a work in progress. I'll get it together soon.

Until then, he plagues my thoughts, as he often does.

Draco Malfoy is everything I hated as a child, yet everything I want as an adult. It goes to
show how much can change with a little time and a few changing events. He's quiet and
serious most of the time, he can be intimidating sometimes, doesn't express his emotions well
(if at all), I've never seen his face light up with a smile, and we still haven't kissed. Yet none
of that even matters much to me.I still find myself wanting to be around him and sitting in
front of my fireplace, waiting for him to come over and visit. Its nights like those that I'll go
to sleep so incredibly happy that I thought those butterflies would literally combust in my
stomach…

Ugh, I don't want to think about this now.

It just reminds me that he won't be visiting tonight and I'm probably going to sleep badly.

With a sigh, I sit up, pulling a blanket over me. It's not that I'm freezing; it just seems like
something to do. I'm about to get up, but out the corner of my eye, I see Ginny's pride and
joy, our big screen telly, the TV-aholic's wet dream. I reach for the remote control on the
coffee table and start flipping through the channels. Two minutes, twelve sighs, and a slew of
bad television, I come to the conclusion that nothing good ever comes on late at night. I'm
about to toss the remote back on the table when I hear the buzz of the doorbell.

Must be the pizza.

With a soft groan, I get up, grab the money sitting on the counter, and slowly open the door,
pasting a smile on for the pizza boy, "Hi, how much is it again?"

A quizzical look flashes across his face, but it quickly spreads into a smile. "Oh, the pizza's
been paid for already, tip and everything." He informs, handing me the steaming box.
I'm instantly confused, but I shove the money back in my pocket and take the box from the
kid before he changes his mind or does something stupid. Still I'm sceptical, "I'm sorry, did
you just say that it's been paid for? I didn't—"

"Yeah, but he did."

Leaning to my right, I look over the pizza boy's shoulder and down the steps. Thinking my
eyes are tricking me, I blink a few times when my eye catches Draco standing there, dressed
in all black, but looking a bit uneasy with his hands in his pockets. Oh shit. I can't breathe.

I look back at the boy, eyes wide and heart racing. "Umm…thanks. Have a good night."

"You too," he grins and starts down the steps, two at a time, passing Draco who gives him a
slight nod as a bit of a thank you.

When he's out of sight, I finally get the courage to ask, "What are you doing here?"

"I got tired of waiting on you."

I completely understand what he means.

I remember a time when I was tired of waiting on him to stop, to think, and to notice me. I
remember wondering if he'd ever get to the point where we could have a real, honest
relationship; the kind of relationship where he'll just owl me to say hi, and worry if he doesn't
hear back from me. Even the kind of relationship where he will drop by just because he likes
sitting with me and talking, because I matter and because I cross his mind, and because,
really, he likes me and my sense of humor enough to stick around.

Merlin, I don't want anyone to wait like that and I feel like an arse for making him wait, but
at least he knows what it feels like.

Sometimes I still feel like I'm waiting. For what? I don't know. Maybe a sign to let me know
that we'll make it after the baby is born. I don't know why the hell I think that, he's made it
obvious he's wanted me longer than he's known about the baby, but sometimes I feel insecure
about the entire thing. I guess that's when I typically say things that hurt his pride. I still
occasionally feel like I did the night of his party, lost and afraid and desperate to be wanted-
even though I know he does; that he always has. I just feel nervous about things.

"I'm not a patient person, never have been, you know that." He starts up the steps slowly and
tentatively, as if he were approaching a vicious beast. He always approaches me like that.
Like I'm going to snap, whip out my wand, and blast him away.

With a quick glance, I sit the steaming hot pizza on the end table next to the door and stand
straight in the doorway. "To be honest, I don't even remember what we were fighting about,"
I admit softly, "But I'm sorry for the things I said, being stubborn, and not clearing this up
sooner."

Draco stands two steps from the top. "Me too."

We're face-to-face, the same height now, and I step towards him slowly. "Well, would you
like some pizza? You did pay for it, after all."

A tiny smile emerges. "Pizza sounds good. Are we okay?"

"Yes."

"Good, because we're done fighting, or at least I am."

And his arms wrap around me just as lips capture mine in what is the softest kiss I've ever
experienced. Our first kiss is nothing special to anyone else, but to me, it's like the beginning
of a story, full of potential and no direction. But at the same time, Merlin, there's like a mini-
explosion occurring inside me and all I can do is cling to him and wade it out. All I can do is
go with it because I realise there's no going back from this moment…not that I would
anyway.

I'm in big trouble because the sleeping dragon is awake and unleashing all kinds of horror
within me…

All this is just from his lips touching mine.

But they linger and I find myself wanting more, so much more I can barely contain it. My
hands move from my side and wrap around his neck, pulling him close, deepening our kiss,
enjoying the feeling of his tongue on mine, flickering as his lips move against mine. I want
him so much closer than he is now. Draco seems to have the same feeling too because his
arms wrap around my waist, pulling me closer too. As we kiss, I wonder if there will ever be
a time when I won't want the arms that hold me now, a time when I won't want the lips that
are kissing me now. Will we ever change? We're young, of course we're going to change…we
still have some growing up to do. All I can do is hope that we don't change to the point where
we don't want each other anymore.

But still I wonder if the feelings I'm experiencing now will change to a complacent
familiarity? Is this any different from any other kiss I've experienced?

With each passing second, each second this kiss extends, every sigh from Draco's lip, every
touch of his hand, and well, everything, I come closer to the realisation that this is different…
and better and more and everything I've dreamed of, wanted, needed from another person
because it's true and real. There's a raw gentleness and warmth in him; emotions I never knew
existed in hi. And as I experience it, I give it back and he gives back more until I'm sure I'll
explode. And just before I do, I pull away, breathing just as heavily as he is.

I smile, rather winded, and stare into his glassy eyes. "How many slices do you want?"

His brows furrow in confusion, "Slices…of?"

Oh to hell with it, I'm in no mood for pizza anymore anyway. So I pull him into the flat and
shut the door.
This is so wrong, so wrong and so right, all together, and I don't find I care much, if at all. It's
all because of the way he's looking at me right now, it's a look I've seen hundreds of times in
the past, but don't recognize until right now.

Affection.

Everytime I've seen that look I've let my reserve down lower just the smallest bit and it used
to frighten me. Now I know why I let myself go; now I know what it means. Now I
understand just how much I care for him, want him, need him, and that it's all reciprocal.
Right now I want to act out every fantasy I've ever had about him…and I want him to enjoy
them as much as I do. Draco cups my face and stares into my eyes, letting his thumbs trace
my face, over my cheeks and chin, over my lips.

His fingers are shaking. Have they ever done that before?

I have just a moment to think about everything, about the actions I'm about to willingly
undertake, the knowledge that if I continue to let him kiss me this way, there is no going
back, this is the point of no return and in this instant I make my decision. Leaning further into
his kiss, the decision is made; the devil on my left shoulder is kicking the shit out of the angel
on my right shoulder.

Somehow we end up in my bedroom, but I can't remember leading him here or closing the
door or taking off my baggy top, but there it is, in his hands. Draco drops it to the floor. I'm
half laying, half sitting on the end of my bed and Draco is standing over me, looking down at
me like I mean the world to him and I reach for the ends of him jacket, determined to do what
I've wanted to do ever since…well forever.

The jacket peels off his shoulders slowly, reluctantly, as if it knows what an honor it is to be
on his muscular shoulders and arms and back. The next thing to go is the black shirt
underneath; Draco assists in unbuttoning, starting from the top while I start from the bottom.
Our hands meet in the middle and I reach up, running my hands up the smooth skin of his
body until I reach his shoulders and slowly push his shirt off his shoulders.

The hunger I feel for Draco is almost nauseating. I'll regret this later. Right now…right now
I'm shaking because I want him so badly.

"Draco," I begin, hoarsely.

"Shh…don't speak, not now, not yet."

He kneels in front of me, helping me out of my shoes and socks and I feel myself swaying
from just the raw emotions flooding every single sense I possess. Through lidded eyes, I
watch him work to peel down the short off my legs. I lift up just a bit to make things easier
for him. Then he presses me to the bed and straddles my legs, each move is deliberate, each
of his touches a caress. He's drops kisses everywhere, but all I want is his lips on mine. I
close my eyes for a moment, relaxing under his gaze, and familiarizing myself with his touch
once again as his hands and lips explore my body.
When I open them again, the room is almost dark and Draco and his slightly pink lips are
hovering over mine.

"Please," I hear myself asking in a foreign voice that doesn't sound like me at all.

Draco leans down, gently, trying not to crush me, and begins to kiss me again, starting from
the very top of my head and working his way down. One of his hand strokes my stomach,
making circles around the bump, teasing my belly button as he sucks the sensitive skin where
my neck meets my shoulder light at first. Like a rag doll, my head lolls limply to the side,
offering more skin to his mouth. He accepts the present; kisses become more aggressive,
biting and sucking at my neck.

His hands are everywhere, they're hot against my skin and I feel myself gasping.

"That good?" he asks with a thick voice, face against my neck.

"Yes."

He licks a line around my jaw and slips his tongue between my lips for a long, satisfying kiss
that somewhat quenches my thirst before resuming his path…

By the time Draco's mouth meets up with my fingers, I've tangled my fingers in his hair and
I'm guiding him. Draco lifts his head and looks up the length of my body as he pulls me to
the edge of the bed gently and moves to the floor, on his knees—

BUZZ!

The sound of the doorbell buzzing interrupts everything and startles us back to reality.

"Oh, what the hell," I groan in aggravation, throwing my arm over my eyes.

"Exactly my sentiments," Draco drops his head on my knee, sounding as frustrated as I feel
and then some.

His lips touch my knee and slowly I pull myself up, wrapping my arms around him
shoulders, pulling him against my warm body and into a sizzling kiss. With every ounce of
passion I possess, I use it to kiss Draco and I'm rewarded with him moaning in my mouth as
he envelops me in his arms so firmly, like he never wants to let me go. Needless to say, I have
every intention of ignoring the door.

BUZZ!

The buzzing persists and it really is starting to kill the mood. Draco pulls away and rests his
forehead against mine.

Draco chuckle is regretful and breathless, "They aren't leaving, huh?"

BUZZ!

"Apparently not."
With a hard sigh and another kiss, Draco is the first to get to his feet. Immediately, he pulls
me off the bed. I throw back on my shirt and shorts and leave him to dress while I rush out
the room to answer the door. Fully prepared to give the person on the other side of this door
an earful of how much I do not appreciate the interruption, I throw open the door and
standing there looking as perfect as ever, is my step-mother, Anne.

Her grin brightens when she sees me. "Oh, Hermione! Hi! I was hoping you'd be home! How
are you?"

Wide eyed and about speechless, I start to pat down my hair and straighten my wrinkled
clothes instinctively. I don't want her thinking I'm this slob at home. "I'm very confused…
umm, why are you here?"

She turns bashful, looking around our front porch before she meets my bewildered gaze,
"Well, I wanted to give you time to cool down before I came. Your dad is being a git about
this whole pregnancy thing and I wanted to come by and offer my support. Hermione, you're
not my natural daughter, but I love you like you were my own and I'll be here for you through
it all."

My mood swings from aggravated to flat out confused, and now I'm overwhelmed. With tears
threatening to spill from my eyes, I throw my arms around Anne, "Thank you so much, your
support means a lot to me."

She hugs me for a second and pulls back because of my stomach, "Oh wow, you're showing,
can I touch?" Eagerly, I nod and she puts her hand on my stomach, looking at me in awe and
wonder, "Can you feel the baby move yet?"

"A few times," I beam as I gesture for her to follow me inside. After shutting the door behind
her, Anne follows me to the kitchen and I start a pot of tea for the both of us, "It was this little
whooshing sensation, the first was last week."

"That's so exciting!"

I find myself smiling more, "It is."

"Do you know what you're having yet?"

"No, but my friends are taking bets already. Barmy lot, they are."

Harry, Katie, Susan, Luna, Ginny, Blaise, and Ron think I'm having a boy and they're got all
these reasons for thinking so. They say that it makes sense, boys pass on the family name and
Malfoys are all about that. And they say boys are common in the Malfoy family and have
been for hundreds of years. Draco did confirm the last theory, saying that firstborn girls are
far less common.

Pansy is adamant in her belief that it's a girl simply because boys are so common, but I think
she just wants the baby to be a girl so she can make sure, "she doesn't have her mummy's
sense of fashion" Thanks Pansy, real nice friend I have there. Nevertheless, the bet is as high
as a a hundred and sixty galleons. Anyone who wants to get in has to pay twenty galleons.
Anne laughs when I get up to prepare two cups of tea for us, "What do you think?"

I shrug pouring a bit of milk in hers and sugar, just how she likes it. I come back to the table
with both our cups and sit down across from her, "I don't know…and I don't care as long as
the baby is healthy."

Draco appears in the doorway to the kitchen, cold pizza box in his hands, clothes perfectly
straight, and the flush from his cheeks is gone, "Who is it, Herm—" He stops dead when he
sees a grinning Anne.

I stand, ready to introduce them to one another, but Anne's eyes widen as she exclaims, "Is he
the father?"

"Yes, this is—"

She cuts me off, "Good Lord, Hermione, you have taste, he's handsome!"

A blush appears on my face, but it's Draco who speaks, approaching my side. He hands me
the pizza box to put away and draws his hand to shake hers.

The confident and charming Draco comes out to play finally, "You must be Hermione's step-
mother, Anne. My name is Draco Malfoy and it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"The pleasure is mine." Anne shakes his hand while I put the pizza away in the fridge and fix
him a cup of tea the way he likes it, "And he's polite too, lovely." From the corner of my eye,
I see Draco take the seat next to my abandoned, "I was just asking Hermione what she
thought the sex of the baby was. What do you think?"

I sit the cup in front of him and sit next to him.

"I just want a healthy child."

And I just smile.

 Nine

Part One: Brighter than sunshine

November 6 th

Time can be a really dangerous thing for someone as neurotic as I am. Really, it can be near
fatal.

The minutes tick by and I swear I can hear every damn sound the clock makes.

One hour.

I've been left to my own devices for one hour. One long, dreadful empty hour.

I've been waiting for Draco to get out of his meeting. I'm not a poet and the best thing I can
come up with to describe how I feel is cliché and overdone. So, instead, I sigh.

The room I'm sitting in is stuffy and lined with polished, padded chairs, a bookshelf with all
these classic books on it, a polished table with all these wizarding magazines, and other
assorted decorations that spark some kind of life in this room. I would've picked up a book to
read while I wait, but I've literally read every book on the shelf. Some of I've read more than
once. I would've struck up a conversation with the secretary, but she's mean.

She gave me the nastiest look when I walked in and told her that Hermione Granger was here
to see Draco Malfoy and said in a rather snooty and rude voice, "Mister Malfoy isn't in his
office at the moment, you can have a seat until he gets here." And when I told her I usually
just wait in his office, she snorted and replied in a nasty manner, "You may be a part of the
Golden Trio, but you don't get special treatment here. Just sit there like everyone else and
wait."

Yes, she's new. I think it's her second day.

But no matter. It still takes every ounce of sanity I have left and a few deep breaths they
taught us in yoga yesterday to not whip out my wand and remind her just why they call me
the brains of the Golden Trio. It takes a little more not to reach across the desk and beat her
arse the Muggle way, which involved a bit of choking, an elbow to the teeth, and assorted
wrestling moves Ginny and I learned from watching WWE Raw.

I just flash a fake smile and take a seat in the waiting area.

So I'm bouncing my foot now. The sounds of my agitated, tired, and achy feet are muffled by
the off-white carpet that covers the floor, free of dirt. Soft music plays, elevator music, but
the young, blonde secretary hums it like she really enjoys it. Or maybe she enjoys tap-
dancing on my nerves, which is currently what she's doing. I crack my knuckles loudly,
which makes her stop singing and look in my direction, speaking cheekily, "Oh, you're still
here?"
"No, I'm a hologram." I mutter.

She perks her ear up as if she didn't hear me correctly, "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

I paste a smile, "Oh, nothing, I'm still here."

"You may as well leave; these meetings typically last a long time."

"I know how these meetings work, I used to work here." I reply politely or at least I hope it's
polite-sounding because I'm definitely not in the polite mood, "And I'm more than okay with
waiting."

"Well then," she turns her nose up and goes back to bobbing her head to the music.

Momentarily, I envision the sound she'll make when I set canaries on her.

There is a shiny black and chrome coffee-maker on a little table by the wall, surrounded by
napkins, cream, sugar, straws, and Styrofoam cups. I don't drink caffeine anymore, only
decaffeinated tea, but I'm sure it tastes like crap. Office coffee here is always made by the
secretary and from the looks of her, I'm sure she can't even boil water, much less figure out
the correct charm that controls the coffee-maker.

I rest my hand on my stomach that's grown considerably in three weeks, trying to shift my
thoughts in a happy direction and ignore the "kill, kill, kill," chant in my head…and it works,
somewhat. You see, today was the big day. The day I've been waiting for weeks to come. I
just got back from the ultrasound and since Draco couldn't come because of this meeting,
Anne went with me, and cried tears of joy when we found out the sex of the baby.

I confess I got a bit teary-eyed, but it's more out of excitement and not fear anymore.

Shifting a bit in my chair, I groan a little, uncomfortable.

"How far along are you?" the secretary from hell tries to make conversation.

I'm confused. Why is she speaking to me? "Five months."

Pause.

Longer pause.

Even longer pause.

"You know, my friends and I think he's only with you because of the baby and that the baby
might not even be his, but you're using it to trap him into marriage."

Forget the rest of what she said...marriage?

They think—

What the fuck kind of conspiracy theory is that?

Oh, hell no.

Draco and I aren't getting married anytime soon, baby or not. We've just gotten to the point
where we're dating. The thought of us getting married is laughable, which is exactly what I
do, I start laughing, "Wow, that's some theory there, but I have a spot of advice for you…"
My laughter drops off quickly. "Don't discuss things you don't know about, it only make you
look like an ignorant fool."

"You're just using him. He would never sleep with someone like you."

I glance at my nails, trying to contain my rage, tapping my foot rapidly against the soft
carpet. Never, huh? Is that what people think? That Draco would never sleep with someone
like me? Wow. We hid it really well, apparently. I shake my head slowly, "You should never
say never." I consider telling her that we've actually been sleeping together for the last three
years and watch the look on her face, but I don't because I'm not petty.

"You must've gotten him drunk or some—"

Snap.

Something in my head snaps.

"If you say one more negative word about me, my relationship with Draco, or this baby, I will
fill this office with canaries! So try me, I dare you!"

Her face pales. "You wouldn't—"

"Oh, yes I would. Please believe that I would, but sadly, I'm a nice person. I don't kill for
ignorance, although I wish I could make an exception in your case because you are rude and
mean. But alas, I'll let you live."

Wisely, she leaves me the hell alone and goes back to doing whatever the fuck she's doing.

Wisely, she stops humming to that awful music.

Wisely, she turns her chair away from me.

To calm myself, I put my hand on my stomach and enjoy the sensation, thinking back to the
ultrasound earlier to ensure I don't go back on my word and kill her.

The baby may have been asleep during the first part of the ultrasound, but not now. Merlin,
the baby moves around constantly these days, it's still that little fluttering feeling, but just a
bit stronger these days. Soon the baby will be outright kicking me, something I'm not
particularly ready for. Draco bought a stethoscope and at night after playing classical music,
we take turns listening to the baby's heartbeat.

It's still as moving as it was the first time we heard it.

The elevator makes a ding when it opens and automatically my eyes cut to see whose
emerging and instead of locking with grey eyes, I find myself smiling at the sight of the
suave Blaise Zabini. He smiles back, but asks, baffled, "What the hell are you doing waiting
out here?"

I point at the secretary crossly. "She made me."

Blaise rolls his eyes and approaches the secretary's desk.

She looks up and smiles at him almost seductively, "Good afternoon, Mr. Zabini, anything I
can do for you?" she winks flirtatiously and I wonder if she does that to Draco.

I bet she does and I bet, knowing him, he ignores her-well, he better ignore her because if I
even have the inking that he's cheating, his head will be on a platter…seasoned, fried, and
served medium rare with a side of potatoes.

"Well, for starters," Blaise begins gruffly, ignoring her outright attempt at flirting, "If you
ever see this woman," he gestures to me, "Send her straight back to Malfoy's office. They are
together, and if you hadn't noticed or saw with your own two eyes or read about in the Witch
Weekly gossip column you cling to so desperately, she's pregnant with his child and doesn't
need to sit in these stiff chairs."

After a bit of difficulty, I rise from my chair and approach the desk from the right. "Blaise,
thanks, but I told her that about a hundred times and she didn't listen."

The secretary gives me a mildly dirty look. Clearly she has recovered from my outburst,
"Well, I've been instructed to make everyone wait out here for Mr. Malfoy and I'm not to
make exceptions for anyone," she looks at me pointedly.

Today is a good day and I've decided to give her another chance and allow her to keep
walking around with all her body parts attached.

"Well, I'm sure that if I let it slip that you made her sit in the waiting area that he'd have your
job in about a millisecond, so don't be crass. Next time she comes to you, you let her through
and you let her wait for him in his office. Do you understand me?"

"Y-yes sir," she replies, a bit stunned and blushing furiously.

Blaise flashes a charming smile when he turns to me, extending his arm out to me, "Shall we
then?"

I link arms with Blaise, smiling up at him nicely and he just shakes his head at me, "Yes, we
shall." We're halfway to his office before I speak, "Is Draco out of his meeting yet?"

"Not yet, but soon. We're supposed to be going to lunch. Do you have to go back to St.
Mungo's today?"

Shaking my head, "No, I worked all night, came home, took a nap and went with my step-
mum to my doctor's appointment. I have the rest of the day off."

"Would you like to join us?"

"I'm supposed to meet Pansy for lunch."

"You know she can come, too."

I smile and nod. "Okay, I'll call her and let her know about the change of plans…say, are you
coming by my flat for dinner?"

"Now you know I don't miss out on any opportunity to get a home-cooked meal," Blaise
flashes a charming smile.

"Good, because I found out the sex of the baby and I want everyone to be there when I tell
them."

He looks a bit excited. "Are you going to tell Draco now or then?"

"Do you honestly think Draco Malfoy will let me wait until tonight to tell him?"

Blaise laughs at the thought.

"Exactly." I whip out my wand and mutter the unlocking charm that specifically opens his
office door and Blaise, ever the gentleman, opens the door for me.

We sit on the couch and after I call Pansy, we start chatting about everything.

I like Blaise. He's nothing like Draco, more outgoing and blunt and often I wonder just why
they're friends. They have nothing in common. Watching them interact these past few months
has been a surprise for me, seeing them crack jokes on each other is even more of a surprise
and it's rather funny to watch Draco unwind around his best friend. Not only is Blaise
outspoken, he's loves to embarrass Draco and does it well by telling me more about Draco
than he ever cared for me to know.

I've learned a lot about the enigma that is Draco Malfoy:

Draco, despite his outward appearance, is a nervous wreck most of the time and his
nervousness makes him a bit obsessive-compulsive and that's why he constantly straightens
and messes with everything when things get tense. He doesn't like bugs, hates the sounds of
scuffing shoes and drills, and hates nature, despite our picnics. He gets sunburns easily and
he uses a charm to prevent sunburns when he's outside too long. He'd rather spend his time
with a select few on his birthday rather than have a party like the ones he's become famous
for. The war turned Draco into an extremely private and reticent person and his parents were
decent to him even though they were bad people. His favorite color isn't black or green, its
actually maroon. Draco likes cats, but hates snakes. As of last year, his only aspiration in life
is to be a good father, if he ever got the opportunity to become one.

I learned that he's been studying those baby books ever since I bought them and he's actually
planning to start designing a wing of Malfoy Manor dedicated to our baby.

Most of this information, Draco eventually comes to tell me on his own, but I'll be honest, it's
nice to know that beneath his hard exterior is just an ordinary man.
The door opens and in walks Draco, looking a bit peeved. That is, until he sees me sitting
next to his best friend. A bit of a smirk appears on his face and he approaches us, dropping a
quick kiss on my lips and shoves Blaise in the arm roughly when he teases him with a cackle
and a, "Aww, is Malfoy getting a bit soft now that he's going to be a father?"

Draco may not admit it, but I really think he is starting to soften a bit.

Everyone has started to notice, especially me.

He talks more and he cracks jokes; he relaxes around everyone when we're all together. He
even went to a Quidditch match with Harry and Ron…without me. When he told me, I
pretended to pass out from the shock and he just glared and said he didn't have that bad of a
time…which means he had fun. Draco went to his first Weasley brunch two weeks ago when
I announced my pregnancy to them before Parvati announced it in her gossip column the next
day and I watched him chat and set off Weasley fireworks with George and play a friendly
match of Quidditch with Ginny, George, and Ron.

"How long have you been here?" Draco asks, interrupting my thoughts.

I check my watch before I answer. "About an hour and a half."

"Yeah, I had to rescue her from the waiting area." Blaise comments offhandedly

Draco's eyes blaze. "You were sitting in the waiting area?"

"Your secretary is apparently not a fan of—"

He pops his knuckles and balls his hands into a fist. "I specifically told her that if she sees
you to allow you to wait for me in my office."

Blaise and I exchange confused looks. "Well that's not what she told us."

Without another word, Draco turns and walks across the massive office to his desk and
pushes the button on the speaker. A female voice speaks up, "Yes Mr. Malfoy."

"Kerry, I just want to let you know that you're fired."

"B-but—"

"You specifically disobeyed instructions and I won't tolerate that from my employees. This
matter is final."

And he releases the button, buzzes another person to let them know that they're getting a
promotion if they find and train someone to do their job before the end of the day.

My mouth hangs open in amazement.

Blaise clears his throat a full minute later, "Well," he claps his hands, "I'll be outside, waiting.
Pansy and Hermione are coming with us to lunch, but apparently, Hermione has some news
to tell you that I, unfortunately have to wait until tonight to hear." He gives me a smile and
walks out the office, letting the door click shut behind him.

Draco takes his spot on the sofa next to me, looking a bit eager but still like himself, with his
arm resting on the soft arm. I get up and make myself comfortable on his lap, his arm moves
from its spot and wraps around my lower back. His other hand rests on my thigh as my head
rests against the crook of his neck. We're curled up together and it's more comfortable than
anything I've ever experienced.

We sit in one of our comfortable silences before I ask, "How was your meeting?"

"Not bad," he sighs, "Just long. How was the appointment?"

I sit up and look at him. "Pretty good. Anne really helped me out. Guess you must've told her
about my obsession with crisps when I have to wait."

A soft chuckle escapes his lips. "Yeah, I did. So, did you find out the sex of the baby?"

I smile brightly and nod.

"Well?" he asks a bit impatiently.

"Draco, what are your feelings on blue?"

Oh he's confused alright. His brows furrow, "Blue?"

"Yeah, you see I have to start working on the nursery for my flat now that I know the sex and
well, I need your input. What are your feelings on blue walls? Not like a dark blue, but a
baby blue."

After a quiet moment, he replies, "Well blue isn't my favorite color, but I guess it's one of
those cliché colors for boys…I didn't have blue walls in my nursery."

"I did. Mum and dad thought I was a boy for a few months there."

He looks completely confused. "Umm…okay, but what the bloody hell does this have to do
with anything? Are we having a boy?"

"Oh," I smile and continue after a short pause, "The color of the walls has absolutely nothing
to do with anything. We're definitely having a girl."

For the first time in…well, ever, I see his face break out into a smile.

A smile.

Draco Malfoy is smiling.

His hand rests on my protruding stomach and he smiles at me, face glowing with pride, "A
girl? We're having a girl?"
Grinning back, I feel that whooshing feeling again and it's so strong it makes me feel a bit
dizzy, "Yep, she's moving around right now." I reach into my pocket and pull out a few
ultrasound pictures and show them to him one at a time, beaming with pride, "This is of her
hand. I wish this was a moving photograph, but her hand was moving, opening and closing
like she was saying hi, it was amazing," Smiling humorously at the memory, I move on to the
next one, "This is of her. It was taken at the beginning of the ultrasound and she's sleeping. I
think she woke up soon after this though." I flip to the last sonogram, "and this is another one
of her, we could see her mouth moving and everything."

He stares at the pictures for what feels like hours, but it's only about ten minutes before he
mutters, "I can't believe I missed it."

"Well, don't fret, I have set up another appointment when I hit six months and we'll make sure
you're there. She'll probably start sucking her thumb by then."

Momentarily, his eyes light up. "Everyone's going to be put out…except Pansy."

Truer words have never been spoken. I find myself smiling harder.

Draco pockets the pictures and hugs me quickly before sweeping me into a deep kiss that
makes me feel light-headed. I feel drunk as the kiss continues; my eyes flutter shut, sighs
come from deep within me, and body relaxes in his embrace as his lips move in perfect
rhythm against mine. I can't help but be happy right now; everything has been good between
us (only with limited amount of fighting), and soon we're going to be the proud parents of a
baby girl. I couldn't be happier with things if I planned them this way.

A few minutes later, I drop a light kiss on his lips before leaning back. "As much as I love it
when you snog me senseless, your daughter and I are hungry and Blaise is waiting to go to
lunch…we'll pick back up with this later."

Part Two: The winner

I can't wait until after dinner like I planned.

And as soon as everyone finds their seats in our living room, with Draco's hand in mine, I
announce. "Well I found out the sex and…Pansy wins, it's a girl!"

Amongst all the groans from the losers, I see Pansy jump out her seat, pumping her fist in the
air, "I'm rich—" she exclaims, pauses, and adds, "er." She does a happy dance around the
room, bragging in the faces of all the losers.

Ron rolls his eyes. Harry shakes his head, humored. Luna just smiles. Ginny and Draco are
chuckling at the sight. Blaise is probably the most distraught over his lost money, but he's a
sore loser anyway. Pansy throws her hands up, singing, "I've paid my dues, time after time.
I've done my sentence, but committed no crime."

"Would you stop that?" Harry asks once he begins to realise what she's beginning to sing.
I realise it too and shake my head. I regret introducing her to Muggle music sometimes.

The rest of them are confused.

Of course, Pansy ignores him. "And bad mistakes, I've made a few. I've had my share of sand
kicked in my face, but I've come through," and her voice begins to rise.

"Really, come on, you don't have to make up a song to sing your victory." Ron says bitterly.

"It's not a made up song," Harry informs.

"What the—"

Pansy's voice gets louder as she belts out improvised lines, "I am the champion, my friends.
And I'll keep on kicking your arses…'til the end."

"Oh come on!" Blaise and Ginny harp with slight annoyance.

I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.

"I am the champion. I am the champion. No time for you bloody losers, 'cause I am the
champion…of the world!" she finally stops and looks around the room at their sullen faces
before speaking in an innocent manner, "What? I like that song. It's very fitting in this
situation."

Holds back a groan, Harry holds out the bag of galleons to her, "You made up half the
words...I think we got it. You won. Fair and square."

She snatches the bag, squealing happily as she jumps up and down, "Thank you very much,
this will buy these new robes I saw in Diagon Alley…and those designer shoes too. Oh, I
can't wait!"

Ginny rolls her eyes and gets up, starting the congratulations and the chatter about how
excited they are. Soon after, we have a great dinner and chat about everything over chicken,
vegetables, rice, and half a peanut butter sandwich for me. Everything is calm and happy,
even Harry and Ginny seem to loosen up around one another. She actually acknowledges his
existence…sort of.

We're talking about life at Hogwarts again and I find myself laughing at everyone's
memories.

Ron shakes his head and smirks, "Hermione, you never scared me more than that day you set
those yellow canaries on me. It was worse than the night we went looking for the stone and
you put Neville in the body-bind, or when you punched Malfoy, or you cooked up Polyjuice
potion and turned yourself into a cat, or when—"

I cut him off, "I get the point, Ron."

"Holy shit," Blaise looks astonished, "I knew about the punching, but damn Granger, you did
all that?"
"And then some. Marietta's sneak pimples, blasting a hole in the Lovegood's floor when we
were trying to get away from the Death Eaters—"

Harry cuts Ron off quickly, "And don't forget the stinging hex. I know I won't. That shit
hurt."

"Can we please talk about someone else?" I ask modestly.

"Okay," Harry takes a deep breath and stands up. He looks like he's about to throw up when
he speaks, "Let's talk about this…I want you, Ginny."

Everything falls silent.

The redhead pales. "What?"

"I don't want anyone else, only you. I hate the thought of you dating other blokes. I was
stupid and wrong and I don't even know why I questioned my love for you…and I know this
isn't the right time or place, but if I wait any longer to do this, I'll bust…so if you'll have me, I
want to be your husband. Will you marry me?"

A smile spreads across my face. About damn time.

Ginny looks like she's about to faint for a moment before snapping out of it, "Well it's about
bloody time! Of course, I will!"

Everyone busts out laughing.

Harry gets up and walks around the table, gets down on one knee and puts the ring on her
finger. He then picks her up and swings her around in a hug before kissing her. We all cheer
and clap. It's really about time they got it together. Guess there won't be anymore
Riverdancing on his glasses…well, maybe not. You never know with these two.

After a few moments, Ginny breaks the kiss and hits him in the chest, speaking very
sadistically, "Take a break from me again and I will do what Voldemort couldn't and
obliterate you from the face of the Earth. Don't think I'm not kidding either."

Harry pales and everyone bursts into fits of laughter.

Smiling happily, Ginny kisses him again and goes back to her seat, showing me and Pansy
her ring. It's a beautiful and large, but not too large, red ruby stone set into a gold band. It
looks perfect on her finger and is probably goblin-made. Harry went all out on her ring and
I'm glad she loves it. Harry is too, the look of relief on his face is evident when he sits down.
Ron pats him on the shoulder, a sign that he's done good.

I just smile.

After dinner, Harry leaves because he has to be at the ministry really early and we all
convene in the living room.
We've been talking about Ginny's engagement, the girls have been swooning, and Blaise and
Ron has been laughing at how nervous Harry looked. Draco and I find ourselves on the
loveseat, hands entwined, talking to an overly excited Ginny who won't stop staring at her
ring, a dazed Luna, Pansy who is staring at Ginny's ring in awe, and a humored Blaise. Ron
gets up and goes to the kitchen.

"Do you guys have a name picked out yet?" Luna asks with a smile.

"Well," Draco begins, "Most of the women in my family are named after constellations."

My eyebrow rises at that tidbit of information, "Oh, and look at how well they all turned
out…looks like we'll be avoiding the constellations, thank you very much."

Everyone nearly dies laughing, Draco even cracks a smile. I kiss his cheek before getting up
to go to the bathroom. When I return, everyone is sitting around talking about Quidditch.
Draco is leaning forward, listening to the friendly banter between Ginny and Blaise. Pansy is
picking her nails, disinterested in this conversation, which is why I love her so much. She's
about as interested in Quidditch as I am. Luna is staring with a dreamy smile on her face.

And Ron is…not here.

"Hey, where's Ron?" I ask curiously, walking back into the living room, standing behind the
loveseat, hands quickly massaging Draco's shoulders lovingly.

Draco: "Don't know."

Blaise: "Haven't seen him for a while."

Pansy: "Probably raiding the fridge."

Ginny: "He better not raid our fridge."

Luna: "Gee…"

They all speak at once, but they're pointing to the kitchen.

Curiously, I head in the direction of the kitchen with Ginny right behind me.

I expect to find him getting an early start to the cake I made for the dessert I'm about to serve
in a few minutes, but about twenty feet from the kitchen, I find myself following the scent of
peanut butter until I see him. There he is, standing in the middle of the kitchen, indulging
himself with…

My blood pressure shoots up like a missile into space and I fucking see red.

"You son-of-a-" I roar at him from between clenched teeth, slamming my fist into the wall.
The chant is on in my head, "kill, kill, kill," and I think I may just listen this time. I feel that
something inside my head snap hard, it fucking shatters. Everything culminates in my head
in a sort of rage I can't and don't want to control.
This is it.

The end of Ronald Weasley.

Hope he's said goodbye to everyone he loves.

Ron's head jerks up at the sound of my voice, "Oh, shit!" He screeches and makes a dash out
the other door, leading to the dining room, clutching the remainder of the chocolate frog
Draco bought me earlier. I carefully tucked it into the refrigerator to freeze up for myself to
have as a late night snack tonight and he's eating it, like it's good, like he's a starving child,
like he didn't just eat an hour ago. Ron probably found it while raiding the fridge and figured
he hit pay dirt. Yeah, well he hit something.

"Oh shit is right! Give it up, Weasley!" I shout as I stalk after him, seething with this
monstrous rage.

Desperately, he runs into the living room where everyone is now on their feet. He tries to leap
over the back of the couch to get to the exit, but Blaise and Draco block his attempt.
"Traitors, all of you!" he shouts, "I thought we were friends! I thought there was loyalty!"

"I'm not a bloody Gryffindor! Loyalty means nothing to me." Blaise laughs.

Draco and Pansy agree with a nod.

Quickly, Ron jams the rest in his pocket while everyone, including Draco, collectively howls
with hysterical laughter.

"You're dead where you stand, Ron." Ginny says, laughing.

I'm going to murder Ronald Weasley and there's nothing anyone can do about it. I whip out
my wand and point it, screaming, "Impedimenta!" The spell is badly aimed and whizzes by
Ron's head. So I pick up a spare trash can as an afterthought.

"Oh, my—Ron, duck!" Pansy shouts.

Instead of throwing it, I hold it one hand and pounce, quickly running up on him, surprising
him using guerilla tactics.

"Spit it out, you git!" I seethe through clenched teeth as I grab the back of Ron's neck and
shove his face into the can.

"Hmmphlk," is all he says before I swipe his ankles sharply with my shoe and he drops to his
knees, "Fuhdfmk!"

Laughter ensues all around us.

"Eat my candy, huh? You little git! Does it taste good now? Was it worth your life?" I shake
his neck in frustration until I hear a plop from the bottom of the trash. I shove his face in
harder. "There was a whole cake in there and some cookies I made, but no, you just had to eat
my delicious chocolate frog!" I rage at him, voice breaking.
Despite everyone's laughter, I really could cry right now, on the spot.

My mouth has been watering since this afternoon for that candy bar.

I was going to have it. It was going to be mine, but no, stupid arse over here had to eat it. I
karate chop him in the back of the head, fully content with taking out my rage on one of my
best friends. Ron continues to bend over the trash can and spit out everything. One quick hit
to the back of the head helps him empty his mouth. By now, Ron is laughing and gasping for
breath all at the same time…and now, I'm struggling to stay angry.

This is just too ridiculous.

Draco is holding his sides, laughing…and just the sight of him laughing almost makes me
stop in confusion, but I'm still past the point of being able to control myself. Blaise is
cracking up too. Pansy and Luna are leaning on each other, weak from laughter and Ginny is
wiping tears from her eyes as she cackles uncontrollably.

"I swear I didn't know it was yours, Hermione." Ron croaks as he stands up straight.

"It doesn't matter!" I shout, half-angry as I toss the can aside, grabbing him by his shirt and
pulling him down to my height, "Touch anything else in that kitchen that's and I swear on
Merlin's old crusty beard that the Golden Trio will be one short. Now get your arse out of my
sight before I hex the hell out of you."

Part three: As You Sleep

A quiet, warm bubble bath is exactly what the doctor ordered…okay, Draco did once he
pulled himself together.

It's exactly what I need to make me feel alright and after everyone leaves I indulge myself
and emerge feeling a little more like myself. Now I'm ready to start my night routine.
Wrapped in my terrycloth robe, I surface from the bathroom and sit on my bed. I take time to
lotion down. Ten minutes later and I'm dressed and ready for bed, ready to settle down for
fifteen minutes of playing classical music to my baby girl when there's a knock at my door.

"Come in." I start the music and glance up to see Draco standing in the doorway, jacket off.

I flash a quick smile when he says, "Well you look all ready for bed."

"Yeah, I am." I turn on the music and relax back against the headboard. "Are you leaving?"

He cracks his knuckles nervously and sits on the bed with me, "I can leave if you want me to,
but I want to stay."

"And that's good, I want you to stay, too."

Draco leans close and kisses me. His lips are sweet and his kiss is too. And I begin to feel it, I
feel myself falling into him and wanting to melt into the shadows with him. I feel it and I let
it wash over me. He lifts his head before we get too carried away, strokes my face as he looks
me in the eyes. I feel myself get hot all over, blushing under his intense gaze.

"I'll be right back," his voice is low and before I can say anything, much less nod, he goes
into one of my drawers and pulls out a pair of grey sleeping pants he left last time and goes
into the bathroom to change.

I fan myself and when I glance at the watch, I realise fifteen minutes has gone by and I turn
off the music and put the headphones away in the nightstand. I'm tucked under the covers
when he comes out the bathroom and slides under the covers next to me. Resting my head on
his shoulder, I relax in his arms. I should confess I sleep better when he's beside me.

But I won't.

I'm not going to tell him that it's hard to get a decent night's sleep when he's not near me. At
least not since the night Anne came over the first time. It was late by the time she left and
Ginny wasn't home yet so he spent the night and I haven't slept the same since. Just one night
changed everything. When he stays, I sleep perfectly when he sleeps.

Perversely, it works both ways. If Draco is awake, I'm awake. It's like my mind doesn't want
to miss a moment of him.

No, I'm not going to tell him that either. Things are going too well to complicate things
further.

"Oh," he says suddenly, "I got something for you."

A bright smile smears across my face when he pulls a chocolate frog from the pocket and
hands it to me. I can't even believe this. I throw my arms around him in excitement, hugging
him close, laughing, "I can't believe you went back out and got it. You really shouldn't have."

"After you ranted for ten minutes about chocolate-covered goodness, I felt I had to."

I sit up like a little kid on Christmas morning, bouncing happily on the bed. I tear open the
wrapper and slowly take a heavenly bite before the spell could activate. Oh my goodness, this
is better than I ever imagined. I don't care. This is amazing. I keep taking slow bites. I'm
almost sad when it's finished.

Crumpling the wrapper, I toss it in the trash and look over at Draco, who looks humored.

"That good, huh?" he asks, trying not to smirk.

"Yes." I smile, shoving his lightly in the chest before turning off the light, turning my back to
Draco, and resting my head on the pillow. Draco takes his familiar spot, his body molds
against mine and when he places his hand on my stomach, I feel that strong whooshing
sensation that lets me know our daughter is on the move.

Our daughter…this is incredible.

"It's been a good day, for the most part," I whisper.

"It has," he replies softly.

Draco slowly starts stroking my hair with his free hand, tentatively at first. I realise all his
first touches are tentative, like he's unsure if I want his hands on me. I always used to think
the hesitation was because he was unsure if he really wanted me. But I'm realising now I've
never been more wrong about a person than I am with him. When I sigh, he takes it as
permission and his touch becomes more confident. The strands of my hair are going every
way and he tries to make them lay smooth, but he should know better. My hair is nothing like
his. Draco's hair is always smooth and glossy and he doesn't need a charm to keep it like that,
unlike my hair.

It still doesn't seem real to have him here, touching me, lying in bed with me, just lying here,
and not doing anything else. But here he is, his slightly clumsy and shaking fingers make
more of a mess with my hair than before and me not saying a word, simply enjoying the
whooshing sensation. It all starts to lull me to sleep.

"Hermione?"

"I'm awake," I tell him, but I don't open my eyes. I cover the hand on my belly and twine my
fingers with his. Draco doesn't do anything except lay here and let me hold his hand. I get the
feeling that I can do this for as long as I want.

"Barely." He snorts.

"True."

"You should get some sleep," he states almost in a whisper.

I want him to continue what he's doing, even now, as I doze.

His fingers are making disjointed patterns in my hair. It feels great.

Sleep is sensible, though. I think it may be a good idea to try it.

 Ten

Part One: Bleed

November 28 th

There are days when I know that the day I'm about to face is going to be long…and today is
one of them. I don't have any evidence to back this argument, it's just a little feeling I get and
I've never been wrong before. So I'm ready for this phone call, well, not really ready, because
I was asleep, or trying to at least, but I mutter a greeting into my cell phone anyway, after the
third ring, "Hello?" I glance at the clock.

It's not even eight in the morning.

"Hey, I had the weirdest dream about your baby last night," Pansy begins in a rush. I sit up in
bed, rubbing my eyes as she goes off the deep end yet again, "She had an extra arm."

I stare at the phone for a moment before putting it back to my ear, "You what?" I inquire, but
cut her off with a short sigh, "Look, Pans, I haven't gotten enough sleep and have nowhere
near enough energy to warrant this conversation."

That does not deter her one bit, "How much sleep can justify a talk like this?"

I massage an aching shoulder while rubbing my belly, trying to placate my restless daughter.
She's been more active than usual and moving around all night and I haven't slept much
because of it. Yawning, I reply, "Remember that story about Rip Van Winkle?"

There is a short pause. "You mean that bloke that slept twenty-years of his life away—"

"That's exactly how much sleep I need to justify this conversation."

Pansy sighs dramatically, "Can I help it if your baby had an extra arm? What could that
mean?"

I shrug, but quickly realise she's not here to see it. I shake my head at myself and once the
baby manages to stop moving around, I find the strength to answer her. "Pansy, I don't
know…owl professor Trelawney; this is right up her alley."

It's too early to do anything except placate Pansy Parkinson.

"Oh, now that's just ridiculous," she scoffs, "I'm not about to owl her over a dream."

"But you'll wake me about it?"

She laughs. "What else are best friends for?"

I smirk and rub my aching back as best as I can. "True. I need a massage."
"Get Draco to do it, I'm sure he's right there in bed with you." She says rather coyly.

Rolling my eyes at her implications, "Actually, he's in France. He left yesterday, some merger
plan with a French magical lending company, I think he's buying them out, I don't know. I got
stuck at the hospital with a critical patient. I didn't get a chance to see him off." I know I
sound about as irritated as I feel, but he did call last night to check on me.

Yes, you read that correctly.

He called.

On his new cell phone…believe me; I was stunned when he told me he got one. Too bad he
has no clue how to use it. He actually shouted for three minutes when he called and I had to
tell him that I could hear him if he spoke in his regular voice before his shouting rendered me
deaf. After we cleared that up, the conversation was pretty good. Talked about an hour about
our days, I apologised for getting stuck and not seeing him off and he said it was fine. He
asked me if his assistant didn't forget to deliver the cookie and I told him no.

"Oh, that little git didn't tell me he was going to France."

"Because you'd make a list of stuff you want him to buy while he's down there…and you
know as well as I do that Draco isn't the type to take orders from you."

Pansy starts laughing, "So true, but anyway, back to this dream."

I groan.

She whines. "Oh come on, this is normal."

Normal? Pansy knows nothing about normal.

"Really? I didn't know that sharing dreams involving my daughter having an extra arm was
so normal. Forgive my ignorance."

She laughs at that, "Well, are you and Draco planning to—"

"Don't finish that question. I don't want my baby to have an extra arm. This is your dream,
not mine."

"I mean it could be handy…maybe she'll get two wands and then she would be a force to be
reckoned with."

I groan again. "Pans…not enough sleep yet." I get out of bed and walk into the bathroom
slowly, "I'm about to take a bath and I'll see you at work. Oh, and stop eating sweets so close
to bedtime."

Pansy gasps. "How did you know that? I swear you know everything!"

I smile and shake my head. "Come on, Pans, an extra arm? You know you get nightmares
when you eat sweets so close to bed."
"Fair enough, see you at work!"

Part Two: How to save a life

I'm late for work.

I'm never late. And right now I'm extremely late.

Pansy tries to frantically flag me down, calling my name and everything, but I ignore her and
run…okay, walk really fast, past her, without even taking a single glance at her. I'm late.
There isn't time to chat. I'm late. Using my hip, I bump open the swinging door as I juggle
my purse, attempt to put on my name-tag, and find my wand all at the same time. You
know…I'm doing all the things I should've done before I got here. One thing, I'm a master at
is multi-tasking. I have it down to a science which is why I'm a good Healer.

Sometimes I juggle six or seven patients at once—what the hell?

I look up and all I hear are moans and groans, crying and healers yelling orders and spells.

Oh, no.

I've walked into a war zone.

Another healer looks up just as I come in, she sounds distressed and she doesn't even work in
this department. They must've called her down, which is never a good thing, "Oh, thank
Merlin you're here! Grab a chart and welcome to hell, we're being inundated."

Stunned by the sight of the normally quiet department, I ask. "What's going on?"

"Hermione!" Pansy bursts through the swinging doors, out of breath.

I nearly jump out my skin and I spin around ready to tell her not to ever scare me like that
again, but I freeze when I see her.

She's been crying. Pansy never cries and I realize that whatever is going on, it's worse than I
could ever imagine. Black mascara tears run down her flushed cheeks and she's shaking hard.
I pull her back out the double doors and ask in a concerned voice, "What wrong?"

Her voice is broken when she speaks, "I was trying to tell y-you what happened," she cries,
grasping my shoulders tightly, "A-a-a couple of rouge bludgers got loose at an open
Quidditch practice and in-injured most of the team and the s-spectators before they got it
under control. They say they were tampered with." She stammers frantically.

Panic rises in my chest and my mind swims with all kind of impulses, "Oh my god, what
team?"

She breaks down in tears, helplessly, "Ron's team. I only saw them when they brought him in.
He tried to stop it, they said. He looked bad. He was unconscious. They wouldn't let me in to
see him. I don't know what's going on. They're only letting Healers in. Did you not see all the
reporters outside?"

"No, I Apparated right in here," I answer breathlessly, trying to calm myself down. There is a
secretary from another department coming down because the hospital has gone into crisis
mode and I stop her, "Do me a favor and take my bag and keep it safe. I'll get it later. Can you
take the front desk for a while?"

She nods wordlessly and takes my bag and everything else. I watch as she sits down at
Pansy's desk.

I grasp Pansy's shoulders, "We're going to be calm okay?"

She wipes her tears. "Okay," she says in a stronger voice.

"Come on." I take her by the hand, hold my wand in my other hand and push open the double
doors, back into chaos.

The next hour is total hell, but I'm in a zone. Pansy just waits in an anxious silence, trying to
blend in. Every new curtain I swing back, I'm looking for Ron, but I never see him. Instead, I
have to help the ones I do see. Repair a broken arm. Heal a broken leg. Put back together a
shattered foot. Lots of blood…so much blood that the front of my robes are covered in it.
Potions are being dispensed at ludicrous rates and healing spells are flying all around. Pansy
looks horrified by everything she's seen and in between patients, I have to calm her down
because she's about to have a nervous breakdown…I am too, but as long as I keep her calm,
I'll stay calm too.

We're hurrying to another curtain when someone jumps in the way, "Hey! She's not supposed
to be back here."

My head shoots up to see another healer, I think his name is Grant, standing there, blocking
my way, "She's with me."

"So," folds his arms authoritatively. "She's still not supposed to be back here."

My grip on Pansy's hand tightens and I shoot daggers at him. "Look, I said she's with me. Our
friend is back here—"

"She doesn't get special treatment because she's your mate."

I shove him in the chest hard. He stumbles back a few steps, stunned, "Stay out of my
business. She is with me. She's not hurting anything or touching anyone, so I suggest that you
back off. I'm not having a good day, I'm worried as hell about my best friend, and I don't need
this, not from you, not from anyone. So you either move out my way or I'll force you out of
my way, either way, we're going and she's staying with me."

When he doesn't move, I point my wand.

"You wouldn't."
"Watch me."

He has to block my Confundus charm with a quick protection charm and now that he sees I'm
totally serious he wisely backs off and almost runs in the another direction.

I look over at Pansy who looks amazed, despite tear-streaked eyes.

"I didn't know you were such a bad ass."

"I'm full of surprises." I push open the curtain and thus, it continues.

The most serious patient I've seen is the Seeker who fell about a hundred feet when a bludger
hit his broom. Someone in the crowd managed to save him, but he's in some sort of coma
from the trauma his body's been through. At least he's not dead. The lady I just fixed up was
just an innocent bystander who got hit in the head. I wipe my hands and leave her to rest.
Looking at the other healer, "Make sure she gets a pain potion twice an hour and have her
committed upstairs. I think she'll be fine." I grab Pansy's hand again and together we move
along to the next patient.

Opening the curtain, I step in and see Ron laying there, pale, with three healers around him.
He isn't moving and they're arguing about something I don't even hear about because I'm too
focused on him.

Pansy gasps, "Oh, shit, Ron," which draws attention to us. I let go of her hand.

"She shouldn't be in here." One of them says.

"Well, she's with me. Ask Grant what I'll do to anyone who tries to get her to leave," I rush to
his side while Pansy stands frozen where I left her. I touch his skin. He's cool to the touch and
his breathing is very shallow. I look around for the chart and see it in one of the healer's
hands. My eyes dart up to meet his, "What's wrong with him?"

"He took a bludger to the chest, broke four ribs and his arm. We managed to repair all the
damage, but he's not doing any better. We tried all the potions and spells we know, but he's
not breathing right."

"Obviously, there's something else wrong that you all missed."

I rest my hand on his chest and listen to him breathe, closing my eyes.

One of the healers in the room speaks and I glare at him, "Either shut up or leave."

I go back to what I'm going and they all decide to shut up. I listen for a few minutes,
switching from side to side, trying to push Pansy's soft whimpering from my mind…

...and then I notice something.

"One of the broken ribs punctured his lung, I think."

The three of them rush to the bed, interest piqued. I point my wand at his chest and heal his
lung the best way I know how. When the spell is complete, I stand back. We all do and
everything is silent for thirty seconds before his breathing improves and ten minutes later,
Ron opens his eyes, looking around confused.

He croaks hoarsely. "Where am I?"

Approaching his side once again, I rest my hand on his head, "St. Mungo's…you took a
bludger to the chest."

He tries to sit up but I stop him, "I remember that part. Hurts like hell, but what are you doing
here?"

I smile. "Saving your life…again."

Pansy pushes through everyone and practically launches herself at him, throwing her arms
around him, "I thought you were dead!" Ron winces in pain and she jerks away as if she's
afraid of breaking him, "Oh, sorry."

He smirks, "Its o—"

There is an eruption of loud commotion outside his curtain, glass breaking, clattering and
shouting and cursing and all I hear is, "Stay away from me!" and I know exactly who it is.
Ron does too. He starts laughing. I grab my wand and rush out, throwing the curtain open
only to see a spell flying from Ginny's wand and hitting Grant square in the chest.

Bat-Bogey hex.

He starts screaming as his bogies grow and turn into bats and chase him down the hall. I
suppress my laughter, that's what he gets for being such a git. The rest of security and the
healers standing around look ready to take her down and she looks ready to battle them out
until the end. I take the silent moment to break in and step in the way before anyone else gets
hexed.

"Stop, all of you. One of the patient is her brother. Ginny, come on, he's in here." I point in
the direction of the curtain I just left from. I stare the rest of them down, "We're going to
transfer Ronald Weasley upstairs. See to it that it happens and it happens soon. There are
going to be a bunch of red-headed Weasley coming in, you all better let them through with no
problems. If you think Ginny can wreak havoc, try crossing her mother."

After transferring Ron upstairs, everything starts to get better for me and the chaos seems to
simmer down. Life goes back to some sense of normalcy and while on rounds, I peek in to
check on Ron. The walls are made of glass on the floor he's on and I see Pansy and Ginny
sitting at his bedside. Harry is shaking his head. Mrs. Weasley is fussing over him as usual,
George and Percy are laughing, and Mr. Weasley is smiling.

They all look to be chatting very animated about the accident and Ron is reenacting it with
his hands waving wildly…a smile comes to my face. All is good.
Maybe this day isn't going to be so bad after all.

Part Three: Pardon

December 2nd

Pansy is still always late.

Shaking my head, I sip on my decaffeinated tea as my thoughts roam aimlessly, of course, my

thoughts go right back to Draco. I've been feeling something different. It's nothing I want to
admit to him. Lord knows whenever we actually decide to think about what we're feeling or
how we're feeling towards one another, we screw it up beyond belief until we're so fucking
confused and tired.

Don't get me wrong.

This has been amazing. Draco is an amazing man, more so than I ever knew before. He's
been a dream even before we started dating and the dream has gotten better since.

We are not perfect. Merlin knows we fight and argue with the best of them. We are just two
ordinary people trying to make a relationship work. We are growing together, learning
together, making things work, existing together, and this whole experience just makes me
realize something I should've realised a long time ago. As the days go by, I can accept the
fact that Draco is an integral part of me. He's strong. He's supportive. He's very passionate
and very different than I originally thought. He's just as stubborn as they come. He's quiet,
but I'm starting to realise he doesn't need words to express himself. And as I think of his
significance in my life, tears form in my eyes. I don't feel right when he's gone. I miss him—

"Is this seat taken?"

With tears hot in my eyes, I look up at the female voice and smile at the blonde-haired, blue
eyed, smiling Daphne Greengrass, "No," I choke out, clearing my throat, "You can sit here.
Pansy's late as always, you know that." I tack on a small laugh and wipe my eyes.

As she takes the seat across from me, Daphne looks at me, concerned, "Are you okay? You
look like you've been crying."

"Oh," I wave off her concern, voice still thick with emotions, "I'm just hormonal. Pregnancy
will do that to you."

She seems to accept my excuse and flashes a confirmatory smile, "Yeah, I suppose, how are
you taking it?"

I take a sip of tea to clear my throat, "Pretty well, actually. Everyone, for the most part, has
been really supportive of me, Draco, and our baby."

"To be honest, I'm still getting over the shock of you two being together…and about to be
parents. It's not surprising on Draco's part. I think he's always had a soft spot for you, even in
school, even when it was wrong for him to. Blaise accused him of liking you in Fifth Year
and Draco just sneered and walked away, but he never denied it."

My interest is piqued. Fifth Year? That was the year of Umbridge and Draco Malfoy was just
a nuisance on my radar. Other than doing a set of patrolling together when Ron and Pansy
were busy with other things, we really didn't spend too much time alone together.

"The surprising part of this whole thing is you, actually," she continues, "I never thought that
you, knowing what you know about the duties of the wives of Purebloods, would actually
decide to put yourself in a subordinate position."

My eyebrow rises on that, "Now, Daphne, first, we're not getting married. And second, I
thought you knew me better than to think I'd be subordinate to Draco or I'd continue to date
him if he did treat me as a subordinate. We are equals."

"Men and women are never equals."

"Why do you think that?"

"Think about it, Hermione. You were the only one who got punished the night you two slept
together. He just moved on with his life and you got pregnant. Don't you think that's unfair?"

"Yes, but there's nothing I can do about it, it's nature," I reply honestly, "And to be honest, I
had the opportunity to eliminate the results of that night, but I didn't take it. I am, you know,
really happy and satisfied with my life."

Daphne scoffs. "I would never let a man have control over my future."

"I control my own future and whether a man is present in it or not, that is my own decision. I
made my own decision about this baby and about Draco. He didn't just come into my life and
make all kinds of plans, tell me what I'm going to do, and lay down the law. No, in fact, we
don't have a plan. We're just taking this one day at a time because neither of us knows what
the hell to do." I confess in a rush of words, flushed.

She sits there and stares at me.

"People who say that men control their lives let men control their lives, and they accuse them
of controlling their lives because they don't want to blame who is really at fault…themselves.
They haven't taken the initiative to control their own lives and that's sad. I am not one of
those women. There will never be a day Draco Malfoy tells me what to do because he knows
like I do, the day that happens…it's over. He can make suggestions, I'm totally open for them,
but the day he commands…no."

She ponders over my words for a while, sipping on her own tea.

"You know, Daphne," I speak softly, "Its okay to want or need a companion. It doesn't make
you less of a woman or a feminist. You and I, we're so similar. We fight for what we believe,
but I'm not about to shut everyone out to prove that I believe in something. It's human nature
for a person to want a companion, to want someone that understands you as well as they
understand themselves…" And I leave it at that.

I leave it there for her to think about.

All is silent for a while and we sip on our drinks and enjoy the ambiance of the shop we're
sitting in.

My eyes search outside the great window we're seated in front of for Pansy before they move
down to my watch; she should be here in about five minutes.

"She's probably going to be later than usual today." Daphne informs.

"Why?"

"There's a lot going on in Diagon Alley today. I'm sure you heard how the Minister is
resigning next year…one of the people running for the position is a woman. Her name Aurora
Kingston, she's a pureblood and was a Ravenclaw when she went to Hogwarts, the first in her
family to be a Ravenclaw. Most of them were in Slytherin."

"She used to be the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. I met her
after the war; she was trying to get me to work for her at the Ministry."

"Why didn't you?"

"I had just started working for Draco and I've never been interested in a job in the Ministry."

"Wow, well, I'm trying to get a job helping with her campaign. She just gave a speech in
Diagon Alley about an hour ago, it was most captivating."

"She really is charismatic."

"There hasn't been a woman in the position in centuries—"

"And we all know she won't win," a familiar icy cold voice interrupts. Daphne and I look up
at Theodore Nott. Her face covered in rage while mine is just covered with annoyance. I
haven't seen him since he insulted me that day at Hogwarts and I think it's wise he's laid low
since because I've been itching to wipe that look right off his face.

"Why don't you think that?" she challenges, voice simmering with anger. Nott takes the third
chair for himself and I want nothing more than for him to get up and leave.

"It's well-known that women can't handle the position of Minister of Magic. Women will
mess everything up—"

"No more than it already is." Daphne sneers back, "Women can do anything they want.
Women are integral to the continuation of the species. Without them, you wouldn't be here to
irritate me. For you to sit here and tell me, to my face, that you don't think a woman can
handle the job is the most absurd and offensive thing you've ever said."
I couldn't agree more.

"Men are more political-minded…and besides, she hasn't even had war experience."

My eyes bulge at this and I shake my head. "What? Please stop talking, Nott. None of the
men running against her have had war experience. Fudge didn't have it and people kissed his
fat arse all the time. You haven't had war experience either. Let's put this in a hypothetical
scenario and say I want to run."

"Okay." He nods.

"I'm a woman and I've had war experience. I've faced Death Eaters and Dementors and
werewolves and giants. I've even been up with Voldemort. I've saved Harry and Ron's lives
on plenty of occasions. Everyone says I'm the brightest witch of my age. I'm more qualified
to be the Minister of Magic than any other man in the Wizarding world, and I'm a woman. So
what you're saying is just because I'm a woman means you can ignore all my credentials and
say I can't be an effective leader?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying…that and the fact that you're a Muggle-Born."

"Rubbish. My gender and my blood have nothing to do with my policies, my decision-

making skills, or anything else—"

"Sure it does, women think with their emotions—"

"The hell I don't. I think with my brain, I use logic, observation, common sense, and reason.
Ron and Harry make decisions with their emotions; they're always charging at anything
before they really think about it."

"You are just one woman. Let's talk about the one who's running."

"I'm not sure what she uses to think with, but you could ask. You could even give her a shot,
but no, you're just like every other close-minded wizard who opposes her: ignorant and afraid
of change and I think you and anyone like you are just pathetic." My eyes catch Daphne's and
I see she's impressed with my level of passion about this topic.

"What's pathetic is that you shout about women's right yet you allow the course of your life to
be changed by having a man's bastard—"

I don't even remember reaching back, all I feel is my hand traveled at warp speed from under
the table, grazing the top of my cup and connecting with his face. The entire shop is rendered
into a stiff quiet and Daphne looks stunned. The sheer force of my slap nearly makes Nott fall
out of his chair and gives me such a rush. I want to slap him again and again, over and over
until there's nothing left of him. It's not even rage…it's something I can't even describe. I feel
like my chest is exploding, everything just combines, everything, the Quidditch accident
yesterday, missing Draco, and now this display of such intense stupidity…all this just meshes
into this explosion of emotions, rage being at the top of the list.
Daphne and Pansy, who apparently just walked in the shop the moment I hauled off and
slapped him, have to stop me from hitting him again.

"As much as I would love to kick his arse too, you can't do it here." Pansy's voice brings me
out of whatever the hell that was and I stare at her, dazed, "Daph, grab her purse for me, I'm
going to walk her back to the hospital." She turns her attention to Nott, "And it would be wise
if you left her alone, next time I won't stop her."

Part Four: Wait

December 4th

I've been sitting in my room all evening just thinking, which is still not a good thing.

I think about my grocery list and mentally add tangerines to the list, lots of tangerines: fresh
tangerines, tangerines in a can, and tangerines in a glass container…yummy tangerines. I've
been craving those quite a bit lately along with crisps, tangerines and chicken. I spent some
of the afternoon looking up recipes with those two ingredients in them and found a few I
want to try out.

I think about the dirty dishes in the sink and how badly they need to be washed. I think about
Ginny, who is in Greece at a Quidditch match…the first one away from home. I think about
baby names. Draco and I are compiling a list of all the names we like and we're supposed to
compare when he gets back. I think about the good lunch with my step-mum. She's so happy
about the thought of being a grandma and I'm just happy she's taking me to lunch and not
trying to cook me lunch. I don't think the baby will appreciate her cooking.

And then I think about Draco and his significance in my life.

He's my rock, my equal in every sense and definition of the word. He keeps me sane when all
I want to do is go crazy. He gives me comfort when I need it. He is a fresh breath of air when
I'm feeling faint. After this baby, Draco is a part of me. He is the nerve impulse that orders
my muscles to contract. He is my left lung, expanding and contracting with each breath. He is
a vertebra on my spine, protecting me and doing his job to keep me upright. He is the
phalanges in my index finger. He is my entire heart.

And with him gone, even four hours away in France, I miss him more than I thought possible.
I miss him sleeping next to me and even more, I miss waking up to him. I miss our lunches
together before his afternoon meeting. I miss his peanut butter sandwiches; he knows exactly
how much peanut butter and honey to put on the bread so I don't choke. I miss cuddling with
him. I miss his crisp black suits and my crypt-keeper jokes. Even though they haven't stopped
in his absence, I miss the peanut butter cookie he has sent to me via his assistant every
afternoon at the end of my shift. I miss our dates. I miss talking to him face-to-face. I miss
sitting in front of the fireplace, waiting for him to step through.

I miss him so much I feel stupid for missing him.

This is ridiculous behavior on my part. I'm a rational woman, I really am. It doesn't make
sense to miss someone like this. It just doesn't. It doesn't make sense to depend on someone
like I sometimes depend on him. I swore I'd never depend on someone like that.

But I do.

And all of a sudden the truth hits me so hard I can barely contain myself.

My ringing cell phone breaks my moment of raw enlightenment. I don't even look at the
caller-ID before flipping it open and answering with a choked, "Hello?"

There is some garbled noise, a slew of curse word, and a groan. I already know who it is and
a humored smile breaks across my face when Draco's frustrated voice filters through,
"Fucking muggle contraption…oh, shit this thing is on, umm…hello?"

"Hi," I bite back my laughter, getting out of bed and slipping into some grey pajama pants
and into the comfy slippers Harry bought. They make me feel like I'm walking on a cloud. As
I head for the kitchen, wand in hand, I chuckle at Draco who is still cursing at his phone, but
seems to have calmed down a bit, "Still getting the hang of the cell phone, I see?"

"I don't know why I bought this thing."

Muttering a quick cleaning spell aimed towards the dishes, I focus my attention on the man
on the other end. "Maybe it's because you got tired of sending owls…" I offer hopefully in a
small voice.

I wish he did buy a cell phone just to talk to me, but that doesn't seem like his style. Still, I
want to be one of the ones who matter to him. I want to be and feel and know that I'm
important to him. I hate that I need that type of validation. I'm not generally a needy person.
I've never been this needy, but now, I need to know he cares.

There is a small pause before he admits with a sigh, "True, this way it's like talking face-to-
face except not…did I wake you?"

"No," I sigh, but my heart is full and my voice is thick with the emotions that swell from his
words, "Can't sleep…a restless baby and lot on my mind are two things keeping me awake." I
start some tea with my wand. Maybe tea will ease me to sleep. Tea and maybe the sound of
his voice, we'll see how that works.

Draco asks, "Restless baby?"

"Yeah, she's been moving around like crazy and she won't settle down for anything. I lay on
the left, she doesn't like it. I move to the right, she moves around more...but I guess her being
this restless is okay. My mind is all over the place, I probably wouldn't be able to sleep if she
did settle down."

"What's on your mind?"

I'll be honest, I'm a bit stunned that he wants to know what's on my mind, but I'll tell him
anyway because his voice sounds genuine and I want him to be genuine. He's walking. I hear
the clicking sound his shoes make as he walks on hardwood floors. I want to ask him what
he's doing, but I don't. I want to tell him I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep since he's been
gone. I want to tell him everything.

But instead, I clam up, "I…" my breathing is heavy and I exhale like I'm releasing a ton of
pressure, which is exactly how I feel. And then I proceed to gather enough of my courage to
utter the next words softly, "I miss you."

Draco gets quiet for a while. I hear nothing…nothing at all.

I begin to think the connection might've been cut or he's totally turned-off by my confession
and he wants nothing to do with this needy pregnant girl. I'm always so scared of scaring him
off, but I realize in this moment that he never runs and if he leaves, he always comes back.

I'm about to see if he's still on the phone when he finally speaks in an equally as soft voice,
"You do?"

A nervous sigh escapes my lips along with my confession, "Yes, I do…" I trail off for a
moment, heart racing. I get up to pour hot water into the mug and even a bit of honey. It's not
until I'm settled at the dining room table when I ask, trying to shield my anxiety, "Do you…
do you miss me?"

Silence.

"Yes."

Relief floods through me. I think my heart is going to beat its way out of my chest. He misses
me.

"Well, how is everything going down there? And when are you coming back?"

"Everything is going fine. Just boring meetings, schmoozing, and lots of Quidditch talk. I'll
be back in two days…I'd ask how everything was up there, but Pansy told me you slapped
Nott two days ago."

"That blabbermouth…" I mutter to myself, "Yeah, I did. He made me mad."

"I'm sure he did…I wish I was there to see it. Heard it was memorable. She said you looked
sort of possessed."

"I felt possessed."

He chuckles. "So, what are you doing?"

"I'm having a cup of tea in my dining room. I finished my list of names earlier. Did you finish
yours?"

"Yes, just before I called…hey, let me call you right back."

With a raised eyebrow, I end the call a few moments later and sit, drinking my tea. When I
finish, I sit there for a minute, trying not to such a desperate loser by staring at the phone. A
minute passes. I drum my fingers on the table. Two minutes pass. I sigh with frustration.
Three minutes pass. I snatch up my mug of tea and walk into the kitchen, a bit irritated. I
don't even know why.

Maybe I'm just in a sour mood, but when someone says they'll call you back, it does mean
that they will call you back. It could've been one of those "say you'll do it but not mean it"
things like I used to do when I'd tell Anne I'd take out the garbage after I finish the next
chapter. Draco sure didn't waste any time getting off the phone with me.

He's probably in France, dining with a gorgeous blonde, forgetting all about his pregnant, fat
girlfriend.

"Now you're just feeling sorry for yourself," I sigh, annoyed with my self-pitying thoughts,
"Nobody likes a—"

A voice interrupts suddenly, "Why are you talking to yourself?"

I scream, drop my mug, and nearly leap a foot off the ground when I hear his voice. The mug
shatters on impact and with my hand clutching my racing heart, I spin around and there is
Draco, standing in the entrance to the kitchen, in one of his many crisp black suits, looking
slightly amused and very pale, as usual. He whips out his wand and repairs the mug as if he
didn't scare the living shit out of me.

"What—what—what the hell are you doing here? I thought you were in France!" I ask
breathlessly, still shaking.

"I came back early. I finally hired Blaise in your old position, he knows as much about the
business as I do, so I sent him to finish out the remainder of the trip for me."

And I do what anyone in my position would.

I shove him in the chest, hard.

"You could've told me."

"That would defeat the purpose of a surprise…"

"Well, you surprised me alright. I almost peed on myself, thank you very much."

"Not the reaction I was looking for, but it'll work."

A smile is growing on my face, "Cheeky bas—"

I really don't expect the next thing, but it comes so fast it nearly steals my breath from me.
Draco kisses me and sure, we've kissed before, but there's something different about this,
something about this that makes it extra special. Maybe it's because I've come to accept the
truth about us. Maybe I'm just so damn happy to be kissing him in my kitchen after missing
the hell out of him for four days. Maybe it's because after this separation, I hope there will
never be another one. Maybe it's because my heart is overwhelmed at the fact that he came
home early because he missed me.

Hearing his satisfied sigh makes me shudder right down to the core of me, but it doesn't take
much to do that. I swear I'm easy. It doesn't take much to get to me. The small intakes of air,
the way he swipes my messy hair behind my ears as we kiss, the way he ends each kiss with
a small peck, almost like he's stealing one last taste…

Okay, now I'm being ridiculous.

Only I would notice and overanalyse things like that. I can't even remember exactly who ends
each kiss, but this one ends with my head resting against his chin and his fingers running
through my hair. I pause to push down the emotions out of my throat before meeting his eyes.
He has wonderful eyes. They're nice when he smiles, squinty when he's angry. Guarded most
of the time, but also dull and distracted when he's working. No matter how much I try to
ignore it, I notice now there's something about the way his eyes are set on his face, something
about the way they're connected to his smirks that makes my heart leap everytime.

"Are you staying the night?" I ask, pulling away from him slowly and regretfully.

"I wanted to sleep in my own bed tonight."

My back is turned, but I'm sure the disappointment is evident in my voice, "Oh…okay then."

"If you hurry up and pack what you're going to need tonight, we can Floo back to the Manor
together."

I smile. "I can do that."

Part Five: Love

And that's how I ended up at Malfoy manor, staring out one of the massive windows in his
extravagant bedroom.

I've only spent a few nights here since we started dating. It's just too big. I always get lost and
frustrated and the house elves always have to give me directions to get from point A to point
B, but I don't think they mind. Most of them like me very much. They always have
nightclothes waiting for me, as well anything I could ever imagine or want.

Tonight there are fresh tangerines and peanut butter sandwich cut in quarters on a platter on
his nightstand.

More than enough, but I'm not too hungry for them right now.

Right now, I'm content with staring out the window.

Draco comes into the room from the bathroom, dressed in black pajama pants and no shirt.
He wraps his arms around me, resting his hands on my belly and I feel lightheaded from our
daughter's movements. It's like she goes nuts everytime he touches me. It's so strong he can
feel it…he felt her for the first time last week and he was in so much awe, I started crying
from the sight. He couldn't calm me down, panicked, and called Ginny to help.

Ginny and I still laugh about that night.

And I find myself smiling when I think about it.

"Do you want to hear the names on my list?"

I smile, "Sure."

He takes me by the hand and leads me to the bed. I climb in and make myself comfortable,
although, it's not hard. His bed is perfect for my back. Draco settles in bed next to me,
stretched on his side like a cat, using one hand to prop himself up with his arm. He has his list
out and ready and I grab mine from the nightstand.

"Okay, my first one is Deianira, it's Greek."

I look at him like he's crazy, "Dei—I can barely pronounce that."

He huffs. "That was my favorite."

"It's pretty exotic."

"Malfoys always have exotic names…hello, Draco…that's about as exotic as it can get."

"No thanks. I just want something simple."

"Yes, because we both have simple and normal and cute names."

I laugh, "That's not the point. It took Krum nearly half a year to get my name right. I just
don't want to subject our daughter to that kind of torture."

He makes a nasty face, "Krum…his head is full of cotton. Kept on calling me Dragon all
year, need I say more?"

It takes a few minutes, but I stop laughing and clear my throat.

"Well what's your first name then?" Draco asks, still huffing.

"Samantha."

He yawns, "Boring."

"Whatever…what's your next name?"

And it goes on from there. Draco comes up with Dakota, Despina, Drucilla, and Dominique,
while I come up with Hollis, Ella, Isabelle, and Alexandria. I hate all his names and he hates
all of mine. None of them are sensible for a child with the last name Malfoy anyway. I really
didn't put any of my names with a last name; he didn't either, evidently.
Yes. I decided to give our baby his last name after a quick thought of hyphenating our last
names. It's too longer and complicated to be a last name and he is the father.

Draco is quiet for a minute before suggesting, "What about Damalis? It sounds good with
Malfoy."

I think for a minute, "Doesn't Damalis mean calf in Greek? No thanks, not naming our
daughter after a baby cow."

He releases a frustrated groan, "Your turn."

"Caitlin."

Now he looks at me like I'm insane, "What the hell? Please tell me you're kidding."

"Shut up, Draco…your turn."

"Aurora."

"What did I tell you about constellations?"

"They say you're the smartest witch. Apparently you didn't pay attention that day in
Astronomy. It's not a bloody constellation…Aurora Borealis is the northern lights. I saw them
once, as a kid."

"Don't try to stick in the sentimental value. No space names."

He huffs, "Damn, worth a shot huh?"

I roll my eyes, "Hell no. I'm out of names."

"I have one more…Dracen. It means dragon."

"Ever noticed how, except Aurora, all your names begin with D?"

"That's my intention, do you like Dracen?"

"No."

"Well, this was productive…say, what was your mum's name?"

Absently, I ball up the list and sit it on the nightstand, "Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth…" he repeats, but says nothing more on the topic. Instead, he leans over and
kisses me quickly, resting his hand on my stomach and there it is again, the fluttering, but
now it's different, it's not restless or constant, "Let's pick this up tomorrow when we have the
baby names book with us," Draco kisses me again and all the frustration, all the annoyance, it
all goes right out the window and I'm filled with all these emotions I can't control.

Easy.
All this is so easy. It's easy to kiss him, easy to slide lips against lips and let myself fill up and
get lost with him, easy to touch him, and easy to let him touch me, hesitant at first, but
swimming in confidence soon after. The surreal quality from before is back. Draco's
fingertips are in caressing my cheek and it's as if a thousand, no, a million small shocks are
running through me. His lips part from mine and he kisses me up, behind my ear, and I moan
aloud, unable to stop it from gasping out of my mouth.

It's taken me two days to realize something I should've realized three years ago.

I pull away and just stare at him.

"We don't have to…" the words die on his lips when I throw my arms around him, hugging
him and crying softly.

Draco just holds me. He doesn't know why, he doesn't ask questions, he just drops countless
kisses wherever his lips reach as his hands run up and down my back. My shoulder shake, I
can't stop them, the tears just gush from my eyes on their own accord. I don't feel sad or
anything, just completely overwhelmed by all these feelings.

He just holds me and lets me cry because sometimes it takes all the strength in this world to
hold myself together and sometimes, like now, I'm no good at it. I'm too besieged by these
intense emotions to even think about holding myself together. Draco doesn't say a word, he
just lets me cry and cry until I don't think there's anything left in me. I don't know what's
happening and I'm so scared and when I'm done crying, when there isn't a tear left and I can't
take one breath without making some shuddering sound, he's still holding me. And I close my
eyes and let myself relax because he's holding me tightly and murmuring into my hair. He
always seems to know what's best, even when I don't…and right now, holding me seems like
the best choice.

I can't hear a word he's saying, I don't care. His arms say so much more. His arms tell me he
cares. He cares about me. He cares enough to learn and remember the insignificant things
about me…his arms tell me he always has.

So I let him hold me because somehow Draco has managed to restore my faith in myself and
this funny little thing called love.
 Eleven

Part One: The redhead

January 5 th

I stare at the scale in wide-eyed disbelief. I know they said I'd gain weight, but this is
ridiculous. I don't know what's going on here, but if someone is playing a joke on me, I'd like
them to stop, okay, thanks. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I'm eating healthy, I'm doing
yoga and walking around, I've even curbed my peanut butter cookie consumption, and I still
can't stop it.

Sigh.

I've never been this big in my entire life. I guess I shouldn't complain. One lady in my
Lamaze class gained the equivalent to a five-year-old with her first pregnancy. Draco's eyes
got as wide as saucers. I feel faint at the thought of gaining that much and I have to mentally
calm myself down. I look the same with 32 extra pounds; I guess they all collected around
my waistline.

So I do what anyone in my situation would do.

I step off the scale and step back on. This thing has to be wrong. It just has to be.

Draco comes into the bathroom, still in his pajamas, looking adorable with bed tangled hair.
His body is just as perfect as ever, hard lines and soft skin; angles and dips and curves and
not a hint of fine blonde hair. For a moment, I'm jealous of him and his body, but then he dips
down to kiss the back of my neck and I feel my eyes roll from the heat of his lips on my skin,
jealousy forgotten for the moment, "Morning…what are you doing?"

Absently, I reply while waiting for the scale to reset, "Weighing myself."

"Still? Hermione, it's been an hour since you got out of bed to do that."

"I think the scale is broken." I step on again.

Draco looks at the scale, "Looks fine to me."

"Maybe if I weighed naked, that would take about a bit off."

He groans. "You're being frustrating and quite impossible this morning."

"I'm quite aware of that."

"You look better than all those women in your Lamaze class."

"I feel fat."

Draco begins to massage my shoulders, timid at first, and I feel my neck and shoulders relax
as his fingers dig into tense skin. With my hair piled on top of my head in a messy bun, he
has free reign to drop a soft kiss on the back of my neck again as his hands move down my
back, massaging expertly and confidently now.

I feel myself loosen up, feel myself start to drift, start to sink, start to experience that swell in
my chest, the one that brings me to tears everytime. I love him.

I love him not because of what he does for me, I love him not because he's so good to me, I
love him not because he gives me everything I could ever imagine before I can imagine it.
I'm sure I love Draco simply for who he is as a man and as a person. I think a large part of me
has always loved him. I guess that's why I stayed so long. And I'm okay with the thought of
being in love with him now because I feel like a different person. I'm not scared. I'm not
going to run. I feel like maybe, maybe one day he's going to catch up with me and he's going
to feel the same way I do, and he's going to tell me. I'm confident in this…

I hear myself groan when he hits a particularly sore spot and rest my head back against his
body as he focuses on that sore spot. He dips and his lips start sucking on that spot behind my
ear, the one that makes me tense and cling to anything near, that one that make me hot and
bothered when he lips just brush over it.

He nips at my earlobe quickly and whispers in a raw, deep, and honest voice while his hands
massage my lower back adroitly, "You're beautiful."

"You're just telling me that to make me feel better about myself."

"Yes…and because it's true."

I start to argue, but I feel this sharp sensation that makes my breath catch. I grab his arm.

His voice is a bit panicked, "Are you okay?"

I recover a second later and then it happens again, "Oh my—kicking! Feel!" I put his hand to
my belly right where I felt the first kick. After another pause, there's another kick and I look
at him, smiling so hard my face hurts.

Draco looks simply amazed and we stand there for a bit longer, feeling our baby kick.

Feeling this makes feeling fat and ugly so worth it.

Seeing his face light up makes gaining weight worth it, too.

I lift up on the tips of my toes and kiss him sound on the lips, his arms instinctively wrap
around me, pulling me as close as he can, deepening the kiss. As Draco holds my face in his
hands and kisses me, I think back to the first night I decided to keep the baby.

Ginny and Pansy finally left me to my thoughts and went into Ginny's room to talk.

I remember going outside and sitting on the patio, looking up at the massive, infinite sky and
feeling as if I were a trivial, but essential part of the universe. I remember thinking that I may
be carrying one of the most influential people the future wizarding world has ever seen. This
baby may make history. This baby may be a force to be reckoned with. I remember feeling of
some sort of freedom too, like I'm doing something a lot of people don't want me to do,
defying the rules, being my own person and making my own decision and setting out on my
own journey. I felt that night I'd made the right decision and even though I was scared
witless, I knew I was doing the right thing.

That same feeling is filling me now as Draco's lips move over mine and his hands rest on my
hips.

And then he pulls away, slowly, kissing me one last time before speaking rather softly,
"Tonight, we'll pick this up with no interruptions, but right now you're going to be late for
lunch and I'm already late for a meeting."

All I can do is nod.

Tonight.

Tonight is all I can think about when I meet Ginny, Pansy, and Luna at the organic restaurant
Ginny and I tried when I first found out I was pregnant. I think about tonight as I listen to
them chatter on about everything from Luna's new boyfriend, Nathan, who works with her to
Ginny's wedding plans. I think about tonight when I let them feel the baby kicking and when
they smile as I recount the entire scene this morning, including the weight issues and Draco
telling me I'm beautiful. Pansy flashes a knowing smile, but I'm too busy thinking about
tonight to ask her what it means.

I'm so nervous thinking about tonight.

I don't know why. It's not like it's going to be our first time, but I feel insecure about myself.

Merlin, I'm going to crush him. Yes, I know he can pick me up without even thinking about
it, but seriously, I may kill Draco Malfoy…and although I may have wanted to do that in
school, I definitely don't want to do that now.

"You look stressed," Luna observes with a worried look on her face.

I snap out of my thoughts. "Oh, I'm just thinking, sorry," I quickly divert attention away from
myself, "Pansy, didn't you say something about needing to make an announcement or
something?"

"Oh," she thumps herself in the head, "I forgot about that, yeah I do…ladies," she sits up
properly, "I have officially stopped dating around."

I pretend to clean out my ears, "I'm sorry, what? I don't think I heard you correctly—"

"Yeah," Ginny interjects, "it sounded like she said she stopped dating around…Luna did you
hear it too?"

She looks at us and all around the room, "Yes, but I think it was the wrackspurt getting in our
ears and making everything go fuzzy."
My eyes fall on Pansy, who doesn't look the least bit humored by our sarcasm, in fact, her
arms are folded and she's frowning, like a little pug, "Ha, ha, guys, are you done?"

Ginny: "Perhaps."

Me: "Maybe."

Luna: "I was serious. Wrackspurts are a huge problem."

Ginny and I burst into fits of giggles.

"See what I mean?" Luna argues, pointing at us.

"No wrackspurts here, Ginny and Hermione are just being sarcastic, as per usual."

I hit Ginny in the arm to get her to stop laughing and we both paste serious looks on our
faces, though just barely.

"Now that I have your undivided attention, I was informing you all that I am no longer dating
around…rather, I've settled on one guy."

My eyebrow rises, "One?"

"Yes, one," she replies with bitter tones, "That number between 0 and 2."

"I know where it is, but I didn't think you did."

Pansy pouts. "Are you done making jokes? Because this is serious, I'm serious."

She looks dead serious, actually. Usually when we tease her, she just laughs and goes along
with it or tries to turn it on us. Now, she looks positively distraught that we're teasing her. I
sober up at the sound of her voice and her red face, "Well, okay, wow. Congrats, Pans."

She smiles brightly, "Thanks, Hermione. Don't you want to know who the lucky guy is?"

"Don't you mean tortured boy—" I hit Ginny in the arm and she frowns at me, "What? I was
just saying—"

"Thanks, Hermione for shutting her up…it's Ron."

"RON?" The three of us repeat at the same time, astonished.

Luna is the first to speak. "Ron Weasley who doesn't comb his hair?"

Pansy grins. "Yes, the very one."

Ginny stammers, looking flabbergasted, "My brother? You're dating my brother?"

"Not yet," she replies, "But we're heading in that direction."

My response is last, "The Thief?"

Pansy chuckles at the memory, her face glazed over in what I can only describe as fondness,
"Yes."

Ginny and I speak simultaneously, stammering and all, "How—how did this happen?"

"Well, it started the day of the Quidditch accident. I was terrified that he was going to die.
I've never feared for someone's life like that, it made me realize just how deeply I care for
that idiot. And while Hermione was saving him, I just stood there and thought about life
without him…and seriously, I couldn't imagine it and I didn't want to. And I thought about if,
outside you three, Daphne, Draco, and Blaise, if I ever felt that way about anyone else and I
came up with an answer: no."

Ginny, Luna, and I just sit there, entranced.

"I've never cared about someone like I care about him, not any of the guys I dated, not even
people in my own family. He makes me laugh, he's ridiculous, he's got hygiene issues
sometimes, he eats all the bloody time, he's a pain in the arse, but I like him and I care for
him. I didn't know I could care for someone like I care for him."

I just sit there, reeling. She sounds so genuine. I've never heard her speak about anything like
this, not even her favorite pair of shoes.

"And when he got out the hospital," Pansy continues, "I dropped by his flat, just to see how
he was doing. He made all these jokes and he made me laugh even though he was the one
hurting. His hair was messy and he was wearing those ridiculous superman pyjamas and I
just," she pauses and looks down at her plate, struggling to find the right words, but I think I
understand her, "I don't know, it barely makes sense to me, but just seeing him—my heart has
never fluttered before and I thought I was having a heart attack, which is ridiculous. I'm
twenty-one and no man has ever made my heart flutter," Pansy half-laughs, "That night I
called everyone in my book and told them all I couldn't see them anymore."

Pansy takes a sip of her water before continuing.

"I went back to his flat the next night, just to see if I was crazy. I felt crazy. I just had to see
him. And Blaise suggested that—"

"You went to Blaise for relationship advice? Ginny interrupts, "Over your mates?"

"Well, I called Draco first, but that was the night he returned to London early and he was…
indisposed," she looks at me with a knowing smirk…one that I returned. She turns her
attention to Ginny, "And I didn't know how you'd feel about the whole thing."

"Are you kidding? This is perfect!" she squeals and gestures for her to proceed, "Keep
talking."

Pansy smiles, happy she has Ginny's approval, "Okay, well, Ron was kind of surprised to see
me. Harry was there and they were talking about something, I don't really know, I just sat
there and pretended to listen and care, but I spent the entire time staring at him—"
Ginny cuts her off again, "Oh, I remember that night. Harry said something about you
looking funny." I hit her in the arm for interrupting and she blushes, "Sorry, proceed."

"I think I knew I wasn't crazy. I was feeling things for him, against my better judgment,
against everything I know. Ron doesn't have a single quality in a man that I look for, not one.
He's messy, he acts like a child, he always has some sort of food on his face, but when he
started talking to me, I felt the happiest I've ever been. He looked at me like I was a human
being and not a piece of meat. He laughs at my jokes, made me take off my shoes, and we
even had a pillow fight. I had fun. He makes me want to live in the now, he makes me want
to be a better person, he makes me…happy."

She's smiling so brightly and I feel so happy for her.

"Before I left, I asked him out. He looked at me like I was crazy. He said we were just
friends, we always have been, and I told him I didn't want to be just his friend anymore. He
said we're different people. I told him opposites attract, look at Draco and Hermione."

"We're not that different." I mutter.

"You two have a few of the same qualities: both of you are extremely headstrong, prideful,
restrained, and logical, but other than that, you and Draco are complete opposites. He's
standoffish, but not in a mean way, he's a bit introverted. And you're more open and
trusting…well, except when you're dealing with him. Then you both put your guards up, but
I've noticed he's letting his down faster these days." Luna observes serenely, drinking her
water.

I always knew Luna was observant, but it's stunning..

"Exactly, I agree," Pansy tacks on, "You two are almost as different as Ron and I."

"How was the date?" I ignore them all.

Pansy's face lights up, "I've never had more fun on a date…ever. We went to shoot paint ball
guns and then to dinner. My hair was a mess, but I didn't care and he didn't either. I don't
know where we're going with this, but I want to see this through. I don't care about the gifts, I
don't care about the materialistic things, and I'm not going to use him…I just wanted you all
to know that."

Part Two: Look after You

Ginny looks up from her book, "What about baby blue and white?"

"I don't like baby blue."

Harry and Ginny have been discussing wedding colors for the last hour at the kitchen table…
well, more like arguing.

They can't agree on color. Harry likes red, Ginny says red makes her look splotchy, which is
true. It doesn't go with her hair color or skin tone at all. Ginny likes yellow, but Harry thinks
it's too girly. Ginny likes green, Harry doesn't. Pansy suggested gold and they agreed for the
first time that they both hate gold and Pansy gave up trying. Now she's sitting in armchair,
rolling her eyes at the ridiculousness going on in the kitchen.

Luna suggests. "What about lavender?"

Harry groans, "That's even worse than pastel yellow."

Ginny sighs.

Draco, who's been really quiet since he got here, whispers in my ear, "Why am I here?"

"Waiting for Ron, Katie, and Susan to get here so we can go to dinner…"

"Can we skip dinner? I want to show you something."

I don't get a chance to answer his question because Ron steps out of the Floo. My eyes
immediately fall on Pansy, who looks up, rather shy and apprehensive; the first time I've ever
seen her unsure of herself. Ron greets us all with waves, Harry and Ginny are too busy
disagreeing about dark blue to really appreciate his presence. From the corner of my eye, I
watch Draco's eyebrow steadily rise when Pansy stands up and approaches Ron, who's taking
off his jacket.

Draco asks, "Are they—"

"Shh," I cut him off, not wanting to ruin their little moment.

Together, we watch Pansy tap him on the shoulder and Ron turn around, his smile growing
when he sees her there.

"Hi," Pansy's voice is soft and hesitant.

I find myself grinning when Ron bashfully blushes and replies with a very nervous, "Hey…
you look v-very pretty today."

I've never seen Pansy blush. Men tell her she's pretty and beautiful all the time and she only
reacts with a look that simply says, "I know."

Tonight, her face flames up. "Thanks."

Her next move is hesitant and it's like her body is in an argument of whether or not she's
going to do it. After pulling back and pushing forward at least twenty times, Pansy lifts up on
the tips of her toes and plants a chaste kiss on Ron's cheek.

Ron drops his jacket and an orange tulip falls out. Clumsily, he nearly runs into Pansy when
he dives down to pick it up.

I hear Draco chuckling next to me and I glare at him quickly before looking back.

Pansy is all smiles when he hands her the tulip.

Ron rubs the back of his neck, "I, uh, I—I remember how you told me you like orange tulips.
S-so, I brought you one."

She fingers the petals on the flower. "Thanks," she kisses his other cheek and excuses herself
to go to the bathroom… probably to fight the blush off her face.

Luna follows her to help.

Ron looks at Draco and points at him threateningly. "Not a word from you, Malfoy."

Draco holds his hands up, as if surrendering. "I have nothing to say, Weasley…you still are
our king."

I burst out laughing. Ron glares at me and I clear my throat and paste an innocent look on my
face. Pansy and Luna come back from the bathroom minutes later, one smiling and the other
looking less flushed. Ron is sitting on the floor in front of the armchair she vacated, head
resting back against it. She sits next to him on the floor and they start talking in soft tones,
her hand is resting on his knee while the other holds the tulip and he's playing with her
fingers.

Seconds later, Pansy's giggles fill the room and they are just so damn cute.

Draco's hand finds mine and I look at him.

"I'm glad she's happy."

"Me too," I rest my head on his shoulder, "Me too."

Katie and Susan step out the fireplace half an hour later, dusting their shoulders. I get up and
hug them both; it's been months since I've seen them. They've been really busy and so have I.

"Oh, Hermione! You're just too cute!" Susan and Katie swoon simultaneously, rubbing my
belly.

I smile, "Thanks guys."

Katie grins, "When are you due?"

"End of next month."

The two of them squeal in excitement and I find myself laughing at them. Ginny gets up and
comes over to greet her teammates. Harry and Ron hug them. Pansy hugs them both and I
formally introduce them to Draco. He shakes both of their hands politely and the arguing
couple abandons their quest for wedding colors and we all sit and talk.

Draco and Pansy remain quiet, for the most part, only speaking when spoken to. Ron's hand
is entwined with hers and she looks too content to speak. As for Draco, he looks deep in
thought and restless. Susan tells us that she is dating Dean Thomas and has been for about
two months. Katie tells us her sister is pregnant again and she just started dating Lee Jordan
about a week ago. Ginny and Harry chatter on about wedding plans like an excited couple
that wasn't just arguing ten minutes ago. And they ask me the question I've been asked at
least a hundred times since we found out the sex.

"Have you picked out a name?" Susan asks the million dollar question.

"Well, not—"

"Actually," Draco cuts me off, "I think I've figured out the perfect name."

I find myself groaning, while everyone else is excited, "What?" Ginny, Pansy, and Katie ask
together.

"Yeah, what?" I fold my arms and cock my head to the side to look at him.

He looks dead at me, "Elizabeth."

Ginny: "I'll call her Little Lizzie."

Katie: "Wonderful name. Very proper."

Pansy: "I like it!"

A skeptical Harry: "You came up with that yourself, Malfoy?" Ginny swats him in the arm.

They're speaking at the same time, but my eyes are as wide as saucers, "After my mother?"

He shrugs, "It's your mother's name and she died having you. I thought you may want to
honor her."

"I do. I like it. We'll work on the rest."

"Of course," he smirks.

I smile and laugh a little, thoughtfully resting my hand on my stomach.

Dinner passes quickly and while everyone chatters on incessantly, I find myself quiet and a
little tired and watching Draco. He hasn't spoken a lot, but what is lacking in conversation
between us is more than compensated for with a series of exchanges of lingering glances. I
find that as Draco begins to warm up to me and everyone and the more he sheds the old
image of his; as Ron and Pansy flirt with each other; as I feel the baby kicking; and even as
Harry and Ginny discuss wedding plans, I feel overwhelmed by the drastic changes occurring
in my world and I find it impossible not to let myself be carried away by all the emotions that
wash over me.

The meal was delicious, though I'll give myself a headache trying to recall all the details.

I spend a lot of dinner unconsciously watching Draco, feeling my face flame up every time he
catches me and he gives me an almost knowing look. However, what puzzles me is his
apparent hesitation to leave. After not even wanting to come, I half-expect, half-want him to
grab me and bolt from the restaurant the moment we finished eating. But instead, Draco
insists on ordering dessert for everyone, dessert I don't even want, and seems desperate to
stall for time. But then we leave and after a quick goodbye to my friends, I brace myself for a
side-along apparation (because it's no longer safe for me to apparate without splinching
myself) that brings us to a place I recognize. It's this beautiful brick house I've passed by a
few times on my morning walks. It's not far from my flat, maybe five minutes, literally in
walking distance, in an affluent subdivision that as a lot of kids and is perfect for wealthy
couples who want to raise their children. I see them playing in the afternoons when I'm
walking.

Quizzical, I look at Draco, "What are we doing here? Who lives here?"

"I do, I just bought it last week. And if you want, you can too."

My head starts to spin and I find myself lightheaded from the shock. "You want us to live
together?" I ask uneasily. It's one thing to date; it's another thing to live together. I sigh,
"Draco—"

"Ginny's getting married in six months and she's going to move in with Harry right after. I
don't want you to live alone with the baby and I—" he pauses as if he's searching for the right
words, he sighs a few seconds later. "I know it's moving faster than you want, but I'm tired of
visiting you or you visiting me. We sleep in the same bed every night. You have clothes at the
Manor and I have clothes at your flat. I just want—what I want to say is, Hermione, I—" he
stops himself, sighing with frustration and looking away.

I just stare at him for a while, waiting for him to finish the sentence, but he never does.

So I ask, "Do you think this is a smart idea?"

Draco's eyes meet with mine briefly. "I've thought about it for weeks, even before I bought
the house and I do think it's a good idea. It'll be good for our baby if she has both her parents
together and I could help…with things."

"But what if we break—"

"Let's not talk about something that may not come to pass."

"We're going to fight—"

"All couples fight. I think it's clear that we're not perfect and when it comes down to it, we're
ordinary. We've spent most of our lives fighting, but here we are."

Yes, here we are. After over three years of being nothing, here we are as something deep and
meaningful.

"If we can survive your mood swings, we can survive anything."

I chuckle. "Draco, I—it makes a lot of sense, us living together, but we haven't been together
long…and it's a lot to have to think about. If I do, I won't move in until Ginny's wedding."
"That's fine…that's actually how long I wanted to wait. It's going to take that long to get
everything painted, warded, furnished and baby-proofed."

Wow, he really has all this planned out. Ginny and I just managed to get the nursery in our
flat painted pastel yellow two days ago…well we made Harry and Ron do it while we sat on
the floor, drank juice, and critiqued, much to their total dismay. "What are you going to do
with the manor?"

"Keep it. The wing for the baby is done so I want to use it as a weekend getaway house.
Ginny wants to use the garden as the venue of the wedding."

"She told me. Why are you doing all this?"

"I realized I couldn't live there anymore, it's too far away, and I always have to travel to your
flat by Floo if I want to come directly from home. I keep a car in the city just in case I need to
drive, but it's too far away to drive it home. Also, the Manor is too large for me to be the only
person to live in it so I decided to move closer…would you like a tour?"

The house is empty with high walls and ceilings and is about fifty years old, but it's a
beautiful classic that's been maintained well by the previous owners.

When we first walk in there is a little foyer with a classic golden chandelier, the floor is
wooden, but he tells me he wants all the wood taken out and replaced. On the left is a curved
staircase with a crafted railing that leads to the second floor and on the right is the spacious
living room. The living room opens right into the dining room, which has this beautiful gold
chandelier and this hideous wallpaper that Draco wants to get rid of immediately. The dining
room opens right into the kitchen, but before I can see it, he takes my hands and leads me
back to the foyer.

When you keep straight through the foyer, it leads into the spacious family room that has lots
of windows, this beautiful white fireplace that he's going to connect to the Floo network, and
hardwood floors he wants to refinish. To the left is the kitchen. It's large and open, lots of
counter-space and lots of cabinets, and enough room for a kitchen table. There are all kinds
of closets, an office just off the family room, and two half bathrooms.

Draco looks at me when we conclude downstairs, "I have an appointment with a Muggle
designer on Monday and if you want, you can design it."

I just smile, "I'd like that, very much."

Upstairs, there are four bedrooms and four bathrooms and a bonus room. The master
bedroom is gorgeous. It's at the end of the hall and opens with double doors. Pure white
walls, wonderful ceiling, it's an open room. The master bathroom is just breath-taking. The
master bedroom connects with a smaller room, which is the nursery, he tells me. The other
two bedrooms are decent sized, with closets. He wants to re-tile all the bathrooms, and
reasonably so. The house is older, but has been updated recently. The last room we see is the
bonus room, which is spacious, lets in a lot of moonlight, and leads to the attic.

By the time the tour concludes, I'm just in awe.

"What do you think?"

I'm speechless. It's perfect. It's beautiful. And I can definitely see myself living here…with
him.

Part Three: Storm

*Smut warning*

We're sitting face to face in the Jacuzzi bath in his bedroom like a couple of kids, blowing
froth at each other while sneaking little feels of water-soaked skin. There is always this little
tension in my back these days, but right now, I'm more relaxed than I can ever remember in
recent memory. Draco's hand is on my stomach, gently caressing, feeling our daughter kick
strongly.

I'm used to the kicking, she's been at it all day, but I don't think he's used to feeling it. I guess
the kicking makes this all real, I know it makes it real to me…even realer than the
ultrasounds, the growing belly, the whooshing, and the seventeen positive pregnancy tests.
When his eyes meet mine, I realize that this too is real. Draco and I, we're real. We've fought
and screamed and yelled and sat in stubborn silence, I've cried, he's stormed out in anger, I've
stormed out in anger, I've slapped him, but he's apologised and I've apologised and I've
sought him out and he's sought me out, we've made up and we're right here…

Together.

My hand disappears under the water and finds his, squeezing it tightly.

Subdued, Draco tucks a few wet, stringy tendrils that didn't make it into the high bun behind
my ear, "How do you feel?"

"Wonderful."

"Good." He pulls me close with his soapy arms and gives me a kiss, a wet kiss that makes me
weak and my toes curl.

Draco smells as good as he tastes. Everywhere tastes like a dream, I discover this when my
lips wander down his chin to his Adam's apple and over to his neck. His mouth and his skin
taste heavenly and I only pull away when I hear his low groan and feel his wet hands run
down my back. He turns me around and I feel the evidence of his horniness press against my
back, so I push back against him, just lightly, just enough to tease him.

He allows me to tease for just a moment before he adjusts and mutters in a quiet whisper,
"Patience, Hermione, patience."

"I have all the patience in the world," but it seems he's inherited some, not much, but just
enough.

Draco drops a single kiss on my shoulder and I shut my eyes.

There is no more talking.

We take our time. Just touching and bathing each other with liquid soap and washcloths and
even our hands, periodically he'll kiss me until my neck goes lax or I'll kiss him until he
moans in my mouth. After we rinse one another off, he takes a moment to dip down and
nibble on my earlobe, caressing me with his hands and I use my fingers to tease his nipples. It
takes about a second for our moans to bounce off the walls of the bathroom. I don't know
who's more out-of-sorts and I don't know who's shaking more, all I know is I'm ultra-
sensitive from the heat of the bath and all this foreplay; the touching, caressing, kissing, and
nibbling…and I'm sure he is too. I still feel the verification that tells me how correct I am.
Draco soaps up my back while pulling me into his lap. We're slippery from foam and soap
and fragrant oil.

I'm hoping I can convince him that the best place to be after a bath is in front of a burning
fireplace on the mat the house elves set up. I'm feeling mellow, no longer nervous like before,
and I'm feeling his fingers on my thighs and his lips on my neck, making me hot all over. I
shouldn't even be thinking about sex, but right now it's all I can think about.

I want his hands all over me.

This want is so strong I don't think I can stand on my own even if I wanted to.

My body feels limp with tension; that strange feeling I get when I'm blindly turned on. I
know that he wants to touch me too because that's what he's doing. Touching me everywhere,
setting my skin afire, and making me moan softly. I turn in the tub and face him, running my
hands down his body, boldly moving between his legs, taking him between slippery fingers.

Draco tenses and bites his lip, "Oh."

I smile to myself, taking that as permission to continue, which I do, slowly, taking my time,
teasing the head between my fingers. I don't think we've ever done anything like this before.
It's always been just an insufficient amount of foreplay, which is quickly followed by rushed
sex. Don't get me wrong, it's amazing, but this is better. We've never taken the time to just
familiarise ourselves and enjoy each other's bodies and I've certainly never touched him this
way before, never stroked him, and never tasted him. He's never let me and there's never been
enough time. But now there is time, for all of that. Well, maybe not tonight, but in the future.

I don't even think we've ever had sex in a bed before either. It'll be a nice change to things.

As I continue, applying pressure with my finger to the vein underneath and swirling my
finger all over the head, Draco's moans become louder and more ragged. He's flushed all over
and it's a nice contrast to his pale skin. Adding a second hand, I tighten my fingers around
him and fondle him with hard strokes that make him groan with each thrust. He throws his
head back, mouth hanging slightly ajar.

I pick now to speak for the first time. "Good?"

Draco just groans, muttering unintelligible words under his breath, resting back against the
edge of the tub, making me come with him. I rest my lips against his sternum just a moment
before resuming, moving harder and faster than before.

He's holding my waist, rocking his hips, thrusting into my hand; the oil in the water helps
him glide through my hands with ease. My lips find his and he kisses me fervently, moaning
like a mad man and shivering despite the warmth of the bath. I stop moving my hands and
just enjoy his kisses and the feel of him thrusting. His tongue flickers against mine and I just
sigh, which makes him go rigid.

I don't think he's going to last much longer.

Draco breaks the kiss suddenly and gives off a shudder, trying to glide himself through my
hand even faster. Water sloshes everywhere, it has been for a while, but I just noticed it. I
don't think he cares. He's lost in rapture to care about something as trifling as water getting in
his bathroom floor. I drop a hand and rub the head with my fingers, helping him to his
orgasm faster and he almost yells. He's sensitive. He's going to lose it. And I love this.

I'm a giver. I like the way he moans my name. I like how his eyes are shut just so, like he's
dreaming. Seeing him like this, giving him pleasure this way makes my blood boil with lust.
He pulls me in and starts sucking at my mouth, hungry, and I pull his bottom lip with both of
mine. With his mouth free, he uses it to moan aloud and curse and I use mine to kiss
wherever my lips reach. His legs are quivering. He's so closer. It's almost over.

I hear that moan, that familiar moan, that deep moan like he's eating something scrumptious,
the moan that lets me know his orgasm is impending. My hands may be tired now, but
hearing that moan charges me, makes my hand move rapidly in sync with his hip breathing
quickens more, he's panting like he's been running a marathon, and his eyes lock with mine
and the look he gives me is one I don't have enough time to recognise. Draco's body gives a
violent lurch when he orgasms. It's long and especially brutal and leaves him clinging to me
and shaking…

The bedroom is dark, cold, and quiet, but not for long.

Wrapped in bathrobes, a revitalized Draco starts a fire with his wand and I stand at the
doorway to the bathroom, watching him carefully fluff the pillows on the makeshift bed the
house elves made hours before, per his request. Yes, I've managed to convince him the
perfect post-bath spot is in front of a warm fire. It didn't take much to convince him.

It takes a few minutes, but he comes and leads me towards the bed in front of the fire and
shuts the door to the bathroom. I hear it makes that 'click' noise that echoes off the walls of
his bedroom as the door latches. I confess I'm a tad worried about the softness of the bed, but
my worrying is in vain.

It's very comfortable and I settle on it with ease.

Draco is quiet as he helps me rid myself of the bathrobe, that is, until he says, "Lay back."

And since I'm in a very compliant mood tonight, I do as I'm told.

He disappears for a minute and returns with lotion. Draco drops to his knees and begins to
rub lotion into my feet, taking his time, massaging them, one at a time until they're nice and
soft. Then he squirts more lotion into his hands and works it into my calves, moving up to my
knees. His rubs are deep and it makes muscles I didn't even know were aching sing with
relief.

Up, up, up, up he goes, up my legs, rubbing lotion into and massaging my knees and thighs,
rubs lotion on my belly which starts up the kicking momentarily. When he moves on, the
kicking settles down and I see his face for the first time since he started. He looks like he's
concentrating on the task at hand. Breasts, shoulders, and arms…right down to the fingers.
I'm so comfortable I feel my eyes start to shut, but Draco drops a kiss on my shoulder to
wake me up.

"No sleeping, not yet."

I nod, opening my eyes to look at him, but I dare not speak. Not that I can anyway. My heart
is racing in my chest just from the sight of him.

Draco rolls me on my side deftly and rubs lotion from the nape of my neck to the back of my
thigh.

By the time he finishes, my body is humming and is on fire; it a fire no amount of water can
stop from spreading. He rests on the bed behind me and I feel his breath on my neck where
his hands were minutes before and his hands…they seems to be skimming along my skin, not
touching, but just close enough to raise the hairs.

The next thing I know, he's kissing my neck, rubbing his hands all over and I feel myself
drifting.

I move to roll over, but he stops me, "No, no, don't move. You don't have to do a thing."
Draco tells me and the next thing I know, we're laying on our sides, face to face, and he
presses his mouth to mine. His kiss is soft and gentle, but increases with urgency quickly, at
least on my part. He slowly rolls me on my back and lifts up a bit, not detaching our lips for a
moment. He's still lying beside me and his hands feel all over my warm skin, lifting my
breasts, rubbing my inner thighs, and touching my face.

As I lose myself in the long, continuous assault of lips and tongue, Draco's fingertips find my
nipples, already hard from his kisses and the cool room. I moan in his mouth and feel his lips
move into a smile as he toys with them for a moment, flicking them, careful not to hurt me.
They are sensitive and heavy. His lips move down to suck on apparently his favorite part of
me, my neck, just for a moment, it's too late, I gasp. His free hand works its way down my
body.

Instinctively, I pull my feet closer to me, making my knees stand in the air. Draco spreads my
legs with that one hand, his delicate touch quickly find what it seeks between my legs and his
releases a small groan and a "oh yes" when he discovers I'm already wet. I release an "oh
yes" too, at the same time, but for a different reason.

It's more like, "oh yes he's touching me."

My head is spinning. I have to close my eyes to stop the room from swaying. His touch is
gentle, teasing, and my back arches a little on its own accord. Draco curls his fingers, easing
two into the wet warmth of my body and I moan his name softly.

"Yes?" he whispers, kissing the corners of my mouth.

"More." My body is flushed with pleasure and I smile when he presses his fingers deeper, his
thumb easily slides back and forth over my swollen clit, sending these blinding waves of
pleasure through my body. My whimpers are soft and they float away from me.

Draco's fingers send me to a place I haven't been to in a while. They move rapidly and I cling
to the sheets, moaning and quivering. His lips are everywhere it seems and I'm hazy and
overwhelmed. Deep, deep, deep they move, in and out. And then all the way out. He slides
one back in, then out, and slides two in together. And then he repeats everything. By the third
time, my breath y whimpers and soft moans change quickly into outright cries of pleasure.I
feel my body tighten, muscles vice grip his fingers, pulling them deeper.

Draco's lips cover mine and his fingers freely move, inadvertently making his thumb rub my
clit faster than I can imagine or handle in this ultra-sensitive state I'm in, his mouth steals my
moans and I'm surprised I lasted this long.

But I know I won't last longer. I feel myself going over the edge quickly. I'm so beset with
everything right now; all of my senses are heightened to the ten millionth degree. I taste him,
I see him, I smell him, I feel him, and I touch him. All I want is him. All I want is this. And
Draco holds me, kisses me and whispers to me as the pleasure builds and breaks inside of me.
I feel my thighs tense as my orgasm hits me like a train, quick and severe and brutal. I cry out
in his mouth, it's so intense it forces the kiss to break and I strain off the mattress. Draco
holds me, not too tight, but tight enough. He holds me as this orgasm destroys every ounce of
reserve I have in my possession. My breaths are short, my head is still spinning, and I'm
trying to grasp anything in my reach.

The only thing I can reach is his other hand and I grip it tight.

Draco moves quietly, he always has. Somehow he pulls the covers over us both and spends
the next few minutes calming my quaking body with kisses under the covers. Everywhere his
fingers touch he kisses, soft kisses, sometimes only hints of breath on my skin that make me
shiver.

I float. I recover. I doze.

"Are you alright?" his voice is low, so low he has to ask again so I can hear him.

"Yes. That was fantastic."

He chuckles, "I'm glad you enjoyed it, but we're not done."

We're not?
And then, because he moves like a cat and I'm still dozing, he's above me, pulling the covers
down and standing over the makeshift bed I'm comfortably relaxing in. He scoops me into his
arms effortlessly; holding me like a fireman holds a child he's rescuing from a burning
building. I wrap my arms around him, relaxing against his chest, listening to the sound his
heart makes. As he carries me to the bed, I realize maybe I'm not so heavy after all.

Or maybe he's strong.

Draco sits me on the edge of the bed and stands between my parted legs, still in his robe.

Oh, that has to go…and I make it do just that.

"That's better," I smile.

I hear him chuckle before he kisses my lips, a light kiss full of promise. Draco then kisses my
eyelids and the tip of my nose before he speaks softly, "Tell me what you want, Hermione."

What I want. In some form, he asks me this every time we've had sex and I've never given
him an answer. Right now, I want so much right now I can barely contain myself, so much it
makes my eyes water with tears. I want him. I want him to never leave me. I want him to
love me like I love him. I want him to need me. I want the world and I want forever. I want
this night to never end and I want to wake in his arms every morning until the day I die.

I want it all, but I don't know how to articulate all these wants.

He kisses me deeply, cupping my cheeks and stroking my jaw with his thumbs.

Everything is hazy and I feel drunk and delirious, until he pulls back.

"Tell me what you want."

"I want to be beautiful to you," I reply in this odd, urgent voice that doesn't sound like me.

His eyes are set on me, locked and unmoving, His thumb strokes my cheek, "You are." Draco
looks so serious right now and I'm trying to figure out why…as well as try to stop this
explosion in my chest from his words. He starts touching me again, large hands wander all
over my body, waking me up, making me want him again, "Tell me…tell me what else you
want, Hermione."

Everything is blending. One sensation after the other and my head is spinning. My hands are
all over him now and I can't stop touching him. I feel the last of my questions and worries
slip away when our eyes meet again.

"Tell me." He says again, voice stronger and more pressing.

"Don't you know what I want? You always know." I whisper, brushing trembling fingers over
his lips.

"I'm not a seer, Hermione. I want you to tell me what you want." I feel the way he quivers
against me and I know it's not nervousness, just simple, barely controlled desire. More than
anything I'm exhilarated by the realisation that he can't disguise how much he wants me, even
as I struggle to find a way to say exactly what I want.

"I want…" I falter, and he kisses me quickly.

Suddenly I'm overwhelmed by everything and I begin to kiss him again and in between the
kisses I tell him exactly what I want.

"I just want you to love me…just love me."

His eyes soften.

Draco kisses me just once before whispering in my ear, words so softly they pull at my heart,
"I always have."
 Twelve
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Part One: Sneaky

January 28th

Pansy is a sneaky little Slytherin.

For three weeks she's been conspiring to convince me to let her throw me a baby shower and
for three weeks I've been adamant in my answer: no.

It's terribly American, for one. Second, we don't need it. She tries to drag Blaise in it and he
shakes his head and replies with an, "Are you trying to get me killed?" Draco just takes one
good look at her and walks away; he hates parties anyway. Ginny is too wrapped up in
wedding plans, but I know that if she weren't getting married, Pansy would have an
accomplice. Luna isn't the plotting type. Pansy may be dating Ron, but I think he's still a bit
traumatised from the "Chocolate Frog incident" to even try me again, at least until after I
have the baby and my hormones are set right. Harry is out of the question.

And even without an accomplice, Pansy still manages to get what she wants.

That devious Pansy calls me last night at three in the morning and begs me until I cave,
scream at her so loud Draco nearly falls out of bed, agrees just so she'd get off my phone, and
hang up in her face. It takes about three seconds after hanging up to realise what I've done
and I curse under my breath.

Draco chuckles and goes back to sleep.

So this morning, when she comes bouncing in the kitchen, cheering gleefully at her victory, I
want to chuck this pan of half scrambled eggs at her for waking me up, but I refrain, finish
cooking, and call everyone to breakfast. Ginny and I usually don't eat breakfast together, but
Harry and Draco are here, and today is going to be a long day for the five of us, so we
decided to have a healthy start with eggs, sausage, toast and jam, and a tangerine for me.

Harry, who is still in pajamas, helps set the table. Draco, who has at least put on a shirt for the
occasion, pours orange juice for everyone and sits a vitamin next to my juice. My mind is so
scattered with work, getting life ready for a baby, Ginny's wedding, trying to keep Pansy
distracted from her quest to make my life miserable…it's just good that someone else thinks
about things I forget. Ginny brings vegetable juice to the table for me, kisses her fiancé, and
sits next to him. Minutes later, we're all settled and eating breakfast quietly. Draco is reading
the Daily Prophet in between bites.

"So I've decided we should kill three birds with one stone," Pansy announces at almost at the
end of breakfast.
We all just look at her, waiting for her to explain.

"See, Harry and Ginny have to mail out invitations, go look for bridesmaid dresses, which I
have to be a model for, and they have to go cake-tasting. Draco and Hermione are going to
look for a few assorted items for the newly completed baby room and you all have to go look
at the new house. I have to plan the baby shower. I've already sent out invitations—"

"I just gave you permission four hours ago."

"I know, but they were already ready, I knew I'd convince you. I always get my way," she
smiles cryptically. "Anyways," she clasps her hands together, "I know Hermione would love
to taste cake and Draco would love not to be bothered, so when you go cake tasting, Draco
can come with me to pick out decorations…after all, the shower is going to be at the Manor."

Draco looks at her over his newspaper, "It is?"

"Yes, of course. Where else are we going to fit a hundred people?"

I nearly choke on my vegetable juice. "You invited a hundred people to my baby shower?"

"Ninety-two, to be exact, I never knew we all knew so many people. Friends from Hogwarts,
our friends, Luna's dad, Ginny's family, Blaise, Ginny's Quidditch team, co-workers from St.
Mungo's, the Patil twins, Slughorn and McGonagall and Hagrid, Daphne, Anne…it's going to
be one large classy party."

I just throw my hands up, conceding. Pansy can do whatever she wants; I have enough to
worry about as is.

Ginny chuckles. "Sounds like a plan."

So we all get dressed and head out.

Ginny and Pansy pick out bridesmaid dresses, Harry owls all the invitations and runs a
couple of errands, and Draco and I find the furniture and a rocking chair for the nursery.
Since I decided to move in with him last week after talking it over with my friends and Anne,
we agree that my nursery will be the one we have for the new house. Draco arranges the
shipping of our purchase and I buy the perfect "coming home" outfit. We meet up with Pansy,
Ginny, and Harry for an animated lunch where Pansy shows us pictures of her in different
bridesmaid dresses, I show off the outfit, and Harry and Draco talk amongst themselves
because they're bored with our girly chatter. Luna joins us.

After lunch, I go with Ginny and Harry to meet with their wedding planner at the cake shop
where we taste-test cakes for about an hour, which quenches my sweet tooth. Draco and Luna
go with Pansy to pick out decorations. Apparently, she knows exactly what she wants
because they come into the cake shop halfway through the testing, Pansy claiming that
everything is done. Draco looks bored and Luna looks dreamy.

As soon as Ginny orders the cake she likes best, we all head over to the new house, to check
on progress. It's come a long way since I've seen it last and the designer is on site and Blaise
too, probably to see the house.

The designer, Ken, takes us all through the house, showing off new polished wooden floors in
the foyer and the new carpet in the family room and the new floor in the kitchen. There are
men painting the walls, replacing the stove and other kitchen accessories, workers rebuilding
the deck in the backyard I didn't even know about and making sure the bricks on the house
are secure, and men re-tiling all the bathrooms and replacing the tub in one of them. I don't
want to change much in the house, it's a classic and it's beautiful as is, but I do want to update
the things that need to be updated.

It's the first time they've all seen the house and Pansy looks as in awe as I did the first night
he brought me here.

Ginny and Harry are talking to the designer, setting up a meeting. Pansy and Luna are
looking around in the spacious nursery. Blaise is standing next to me in the master bedroom,
silently looking out the same window. I don't know where Draco is; probably downstairs
making sure everything is coming along perfectly. I yawn, feeling myself lose more and more
energy as I stand here. The icing on the cake has given me indigestion and I have heartburn
from the sandwich I ate at lunch. My feet are a bit achy, but that's to be expected for someone
who is as far along as I am.

"You know," Blaise speaks up, "He really does love you, Hermione. He has…for a long time.
He's loyal to you."

I look over at him, a bit stunned at his words.

Blaise is a bit protective of Draco, always has been. They were practically raised together,
and they're almost like brothers. I never even realised how close they were. I always thought
of Draco as a bit of a loner, who only surrounds himself with subordinates, like Crabbe and
Goyle, to make himself seem more superior, but I was wrong about that too. Blaise has
always been there, even through school. He suggested Draco find me and talk to me after the
party, tell me how he really feels, which led to that horrible scene in the coffee shop. Blaise
was the one he went to the night he found out I was pregnant. He suggested that when he
calmed down, go back and talk to me. I guess the accident happened before he calmed down.
The first one he told that I was keeping it. The only friend Draco has ever introduced me to.

As he speaks, I understand what he's doing and I'm surprised this conversation didn't happen
sooner. Blaise doesn't want to see his best friend get hurt and he's going to see to it that it
doesn't happen. I would do the same for Harry or Ron or Ginny or Pansy or Luna in a
heartbeat. He's as fiercely protective of his best friend as I am of mine.

"I know he does," even though he hasn't technically said it.

"Do you love him?"

"Blaise," I start with a sigh, "I think I've been in love with Draco for the last three years and
convinced myself it was just a little crush because I was so scared to admit it and put myself
in a vulnerable position."
"He did, at least that's what I gathered."

"Gather all you want, you know him better than I do, Blaise. He didn't say a word, he didn't
tell me, didn't even hint at it, and I was frightened. That's when I started training to become a
Healer. You know as well as I do that Draco is not the most direct man alive. I didn't
completely know where I stood with him after all this."

Blaise's shoulders shake when he chuckles, "Finally chalked up and told you, huh?"

I smile, "Yes and it's about time too. I think…I think I understand him more now. I think I get
why he didn't open up to me. I think he was as unsure of my feelings as I was of his and
didn't want to put himself in a vulnerable position either. But I think if we communicate
more, which we're working on, I don't think we'll have these misunderstandings."

We stand in silence for a few minutes.

I speak up carefully, "I understand that you are protective of him, but you don't have to worry
about me hurting him or using him or being unfaithful."

He smiles, "I know you are…I just have to make sure."

"I understand. I'd do the same for any of my friends."

We fall into another silence and I, with a moderate amount of difficulty, pick up my bottle of
water. Blaise helps me stand up right and I thank him with a smile, "I feel like my center of
gravity is off." The baby starts kicking, letting me know she's awake and I rest my hand on
my stomach, "Let's not even talk about the kicking."

He chuckles, "Yeah, I bet, but it won't be too long now."

"Nope, about a month," I grin excitedly, "Monday is my last day at St. Mungo's before I go
on leave. I think Draco's taking the time off too so he can help."

"Yeah, he is…leaving everything to me for four months."

My brows furrow, "I didn't know he was taking that long off."

I'm only taking three months off and it's back to work.

"He is. I think he wants to—"

Blaise is interrupted by Pansy and Luna emergence from the nursery, both all in grins,
"Hermione, this house is gorgeous. I'm going to visit everyday when you move in. It's the
perfect little family home…maybe with three more kids—"

This time I do choke on my water.

Blaise pats my back, laughing, "No way!" I exclaim once I recover, "Don't even wish that on
me. I'm scared enough just thinking about being a mum to one baby, let's not throw three
more in the mix."
Pansy and Luna just giggle and walk out, arm-in-arm. I just look at Blaise and shake my
head.

Draco walks in the room minutes later and I detect a small and quick eye-conversation
between him and Blaise before he looks at me, "Are you ready to go?"

I nod, yawning suddenly, "Yeah, I'm a bit tired."

Not to mention achy, I've got serious heartburn going on right now, and my feet hurt.

"You can nap before dinner; everyone's coming to the Manor. Pansy wants to pick a room for
the shower and Ginny wants to look at the garden so we're all going back to your flat so we
can floo there."

I just nod, yawn, and let Draco take my hand and lead me out to the car. He's talking about
the house as he drives back to my flat, telling me that it's probably going to be finished the
week before the wedding. Then he starts his argument for why Blaise should be godfather,
and as I listen, I feel my eyes getting heavier.

The drive only takes five minutes, but I'm asleep before we get there. I wake hours later in
Draco's bed on my left side, the side the baby prefers, with a pillow between my legs to
alleviate the pressure on my back. Immediately, I know Draco is the one who put me in bed.
He's really attuned to my needs. I stretch, move the pillow, and sit up.

"Miss. Granger," a small voice speaks. I look down and there is a house elf standing there. I
think her name is Pinky and she's smiling at me, "Master sends me to fetch you for dinner.
Master knows Miss. Granger gets lost and wants Pinky to make sure she doesn't."

I get out of bed slowly, "Thanks Pinky. Will you wait while I freshen up?"

She nods eagerly and I set off to the bathroom to brush my hair that's grown considerably in
the last couple of months back into a ponytail, brush my teeth, and wash my face. When I
emerge, Pinky is waiting for me.

"Come, Miss. Granger, dinner will soon be served."

I follow the house elf for at least five minutes before we find everyone in one of the dining
room. I thank Pinky and approach everyone. Pansy and Ron are sitting at the table, talking
softly to one another. Luna is laughing at Harry's joke. Ginny is looking around. Pinky
disappears with a small crack.

Ginny notices me first, "Hermione! You're awake. You've been sleep for hours."

Draco looks over in the middle of his conversation with Blaise away from everyone else. He
smirks and I smile back.

I approach her. "I was tired, Gin. Did you like the garden?"

She goes off on a tangent about how beautiful it is and how excited she is about the wedding.
I stand there and listen, grinning and nodding to everything she says. She eventually slows
down, "How are you feeling?"

I shrug, "Other than the foot on my ribcage, I'm good."

Ginny smiles and rubs my stomach, "Won't be too long now before we see who Little Lizzy
looks more like. My bet is on Draco, but everyone else thinks she'll look more like you,
though no one is willing to put money on it. I think they learned their lesson from the "I am
the champion" incident."

I chuckle. "I bet they did…well, I agree with you."

She suddenly gets a serious look about her. "I know that with the wedding and all, we haven't
had much time—I mean, I haven't been much of a help—I feel like I've been selfish, not
really thinking of you—"

I cut her off, "No, Ginny, you've still been great. Who helps me get the last of the clothes out
the laundry basket when I can't reach? Who makes sure I'm eating healthy? And who cheers
me up when I'm an emotional basket-case? You, Gin. You've been with me since the
seventeen pregnancy test debacle. You held my hair back when I had morning sickness.
You're the first person who said they were on my side, no matter what I did. You came to me
as fast as you could when I got in the accident. Ginny, you're a great friend to me, you always
have been and I appreciate you. Now you're getting married and I want you to worry about
your wedding, it's the most important and anticipated day of your life and there's no one on
Earth who deserves it more."

Tears fill her eyes. "Oh, Hermione!" she throws her arms around my neck, hugging me.

Harry looks over, concerned, but I shake my head, telling him there's nothing to worry about.
I just hug her back and when she pulls away, I dry her eyes and smile.

"Is everything okay?"

My head jerks over to see Draco standing across the table, looking as confused as he is
concerned.

"Yeah, everything's good…can we eat now?"

Part Three: Last Breath

February 1st

The next time I walk these halls, I'll be a mum.

And that's what's been keeping a smile on my face all day.

It's been a really good day. This morning Draco and I finally settled the fight about
godparents. Why do babies need just one godmother and godfather, when three godfathers
and three godmothers are more effective? Works for the royal family. No matter how many
lessons Draco and I teach, it's always better to have some outside influence.
She'll learn different lessons from all of them. From Ginny, she'll learn that no matter what,
she must always be true to herself. From Pansy she'll learn that it's okay to be strong and
dainty at the same time. From Luna she'll learn to see outside the box. From Harry she'll gain
the appreciation of life. From Ron she'll learn to cut loose and just how fun it is. From Blaise,
she'll learn loyalty and how to be a good friend. It makes sense to have more than two
godparents because each of them brings something different to the table.

Well after coming to that agreement, I go to work. A bunch of Healers, Grant included,
bought me an enchanted stroller that adjusts based on temperature and size of the baby. It also
has a protective charm around it that blocks out anyone who wishes to harm the baby in any
way. It's apparently the first and last stroller I'll ever buy and looks just like a regular muggle
stroller.

We have cake and ice-cream, Pansy invites them all to the baby shower at the manor, we
laugh about the "Bogies incident", much to Grant's chagrin, and I set off for my last set of
rounds, which take almost no time to complete.

Half an hour later, I'm sitting in the break room, sitting on the couch and resting my feet after
the walk. All is quiet and it will remain this way for the next couple of hours.

Pansy is supposed to meet me here on her break so she can fill me in on her plans for the
baby shower, but she's late, as per usual. Ron stopped by the hospital and brought her a dozen
orange tulips in the middle of the party and she went with him to coffee, blushing like mad
amidst cat calls and wolf-whistles from the Healers.

I smile everytime I think about it.

The door opens and my head whirls around to see Draco's assistant, Ellis, standing in the
door with a smile. She's an older lady, maybe in her early fifties, with a motherly look about
her and she greets me warmly, we've gotten a bit close with the passing months of cookie
deliveries. I struggle to get up to greet her, but she shakes her head and replies with a bit of a
chuckle, "Oh, sweet Merlin, no child, don't get up. I'll come to you." And she does, with a
small bag. She hands it to me and rubs my belly, "You look pretty as always, Hermione."

Waving her off modestly, I find myself smiling anyway, "No, no, I feel like a whale."

"Now, I've seen a lot of pregnant girls. I have four kids and nine grandbabies and there is no
way you look like a whale. Why I've never seen a more beautiful, glowing pregnant
woman…and that's saying a lot."

I grin. She always makes me feel better about myself, "Well, thanks Ellis."

"I hope you bring baby Lizzy by the office to let me see her."

"Oh, most definitely…are you coming to the shower next week?"

"Yes, I got the owl this morning. Looks extravagant."

"Well, that's what happens when you let Pansy Parkinson plan an event."
She laughs with me and watches me open the bag, "Apparently…well, this is sadly the last
cookie I have to bring. You, my dear, are a dream. I hope you and Mr. Malfoy decide to have
another baby so I can bring cookies to you again."

My smile brightens as I shake my head, chuckling, "Oh, no…no more kids, not for a long
while."

Ellis smiles, gives me a motherly kiss on the cheek, and I watch her leave. I sigh, shake my
head, and open the bag. The peanut butter cookie is warm, just like always, and I take a bite
of it, savoring. Oh, sweet Merlin, it's amazing. I haven't had one since Friday when she
brought the last one. She started making them from scratch for me when we had our first
conversation and uses a charm to keep them warm until she brings it to me. They are just
amazing.

"Well," a familiar voice speaks up from the doorway, "I thought she'd never leave."

You've got to be fucking kidding me?

My eyes dart to the source and there he is, standing in the doorway of the break room,
looking poised, but definitely not calm. Theodore Nott. I get up suddenly and my back cries
out in pain for my sudden movements. His eyes lock with mine before they travel down to
my protruding stomach.

I snap my fingers, "This break room is private."

"Well, she was in here."

"She has permission to be here, you don't."

His eyes fall on my stomach again. "I see you're looking ready to burst, even more so than
the last time I saw you."

My muscles start to tense. "Is there a purpose to this visit other than to insult me? If not, I
have things to do."

"I was just upstairs visiting my uncle when I saw you walk by. I just came down here to
apologise for what I said that day in the coffee shop. I did not intend to provoke you to act in
violence towards me."

"You don't have to apologise…it's just a waste of your breath. From the very moment I met
you, Nott, you've treated me with disdain in one breath and called me your friend in the next.
I don't know what's up with you, I don't know why you act the way you do, and I don't care,
just stay away from me."

"I only acted that way because," he pauses and unfolds his arms, "I'm in love with you,
Hermione Granger."

"Excuse me?"

He repeats, "I love you."

"No you don't," I shake my head in disbelief. He's just saying this to rile me up.

Nott's voice rises with anger, "You can't tell me how I feel. You can't tell me that I don't love
you. You can't tell me that I don't want to be with you. I do love you and I do want to be with
—"

"Well, you can't," I cut him off, "I'm with Draco and we're going to have a daughter together
and I love him. We are not friends, we are not anything, and I want nothing to do with you."

"I thought you might say that."

Alarm bells go off in my head.

He takes a step towards me and I step back, bumping into the end table, making a vase of
flowers tip over and shatter. The sound of shattering glass startles me, breaks my
concentration for one second. And it only takes one second for him to grab me.

Pain shoots up my arm as he seizes me, "But I think I can change your mind."

Trying to wrench away from him, I pull forcefully, but to no avail. He still has a firm grip on
the sleeve of my Healer robes. He's stronger than me, so much more than I ever anticipated,
but the sleeve tears off.

With a startled shout, I drop to the floor between the sofa and the table on my side, my hand
moving instinctively to my stomach and pain overwhelms my senses and I cry out in distress.

"You silly witch," Nott sneers as he gathers my feet in his hands in one fatal swoop and drags
me and the coffee table I suddenly cling to in desperation. He doesn't stop when I'm clear of
the couch, though I'm praying he will. Nott drags me into the center of the room and I don't
make it easy for him. I'm fighting, screaming, gripping onto everything I can get my hands
on.

He won't stop. He won't let me go. I can feel the back of my robes raising, exposing my
tender back. It immediately heats from the friction between the carpeted floor and my flesh. I
can't help but cry out when it begins to burn, but he doesn't stop until he has successfully
pulled me in the center of the room. I'm sure I have the worst carpet burn now, I feel it. My
fingers are swelling from gripping onto chairs and tables, having them torn from my grasp
and my fingers being crushed between them. When he finally stops, I just lay there, stunned
and sobbing in pain. It's like I'm paralyzed or something.

Nott stands directly over me and I try to mold myself to the floor, "Would you like to know
my plan?" He sounds about as insane as he looks.

"I don't bloody care."

Before I can react, Nott takes a customary hold of my hair and yanks it so hard my neck
snaps back and I can't bite back the scream. He pulls so hard it's amazing the hairs haven't
ripped from my scalp. He just keeps pulling and pulling…he lifts me back on my feet by my
hair, ignoring my screams of excruciating, burning pain. The terror and anguish in my voice
is evident as it bounces off all four walls and I see it in his eyes that he likes to hear me
scream from pain inflicted by him; it's like he gets some sort of twisted pleasure from it.

His grip relaxes and I grip my head where his hand was, crying.

"Do you feel like playing nice now?" when I say nothing, Nott proceeds, "You see, if there's
no baby then you don't have to be with Malfoy. The way I see it, this baby is the only reason
why you're with him, Hermione. You don't want him. You want to be with me. Don't deny it.
I see it in your eyes. You want to start a life with me, bastard free. I can make that happen,
you know. We could get married and have children of our own. We just need to get this one
out the way."

I just stare at him with wide eyes, stunned and in complete mind-numbing shock. I don't even
know what he's talking about. "You're insane!"

Not the ideal thing to say to someone who just dragged you across a room.

I learn this lesson very quickly.

Never, for a moment, do I see his hand rise, but his grip tightens again on my hair and I feel
his hand when it comes into contact with my face, causing my head to snap to the side and a
couple of hairs finally rip from my scalp as I fall back to the ground, again on my side. The
stinging is almost unreal and the salty taste of my own blood has already reached my tongue.

The pain has barely begun to take its real effect before I feel his hot, ragged breath on me.
"You're doing this to yourself, Hermione. If you weren't so beautiful and stubborn you
wouldn't make me so angry. You should have stayed with me the night of Malfoy's party."

I just lay there, moaning in pain, trying to figure a way out. Where is my wand? When I don't
answer, he drops to his knees and proceeds to try and shake the answer out. My head slams
forcefully into the floor repeatedly, my vision blurs, but comes back clear when he stops and
attaches his lips to my neck.

"Is this what you want?"

A type of panic I haven't felt in years seizes me and I start to fight and cry, all at the same
time. This begins the wrestling match. He goes for the buttons of my robe and I elbow him in
the face, hard. He shouts and cowers to the floor next to me. I need to get out of here…and
that's just what I attempt to do. I get to my feet and try to run, but he grabs a hold of my ankle
and the only reason I don't land on my stomach is because I use my hands to break my fall.

I feel the bones in my wrist crunch, but there are more concerns on my mind right now.

Like…how to stay alive.

In a rage, Nott crawls over to me and grabs a hold of my hair again and pulls us both to our
feet, me barely breathing because he's pulling so hard, and him cursing. I can't believe the
burning, throbbing agony my body is still in, but I still fight, clawing the hell out of his cheek
with my nails when I see the opportunity. This time, I see his fist rise, and I close my eyes as
if to shield myself from the pain I'm about to experience. The blow, as expected, goes without
mercy, he's putting everything into it, all his anger, all his hate, everything.

And he doesn't stop.

No matter how hard I fight. No matter how loud I scream. He won't stop. Punches and kicks
come from all around me. All I can do is curl into a tight ball and keep her safe, but it's not
enough. He's relentless and it's so easy to just give up. I'm so tired that I can. I am at his
complete mercy and I know there is nothing I can do to stop him. I don't know how long it
goes on, but when it stops, Nott is on his hands and knees, heaving in breaths and talking to
himself.

I uncurl from fetal position without making any sound.

Coughing a couple of times, I see a few drops of my blood fall on the carpet, landing in
perfect circular shape. I stare at it, ignoring the pain and the anguished kicking of the baby for
an instant to study the drops, fascinated by how red they are. More drops spill form my nose
and mouth. Soon enough, there is a nice stain. I don't get to see them too long, out of
nowhere, his hand grips my head again to pull me up. I'm under the impression Nott is going
to preach to me some more about how this is my fault, but the instant I'm on my feet he holds
tightly onto my shoulder and punches me right in the side of my stomach. In a panicked heap,
I fall back to the floor; my head hits it with a loud thud.

I just lay there, she's still kicking, softer now, but I'm trying to fight the multicolored flashes
out of my vision.

I think…I think I'm dying.

And as the kicking fades to a few thumps, I think we both are.

I cough again, more blood spills from my mouth, and I touch the back of my head where this
throbbing pain and is and draw back blood. I go to wipe it off on my robes when something
sticks me in the shoulder.

It's my wand.

Nott moves and I hold my breath, daring not to move one muscle.

He's talking to himself, shaking and berating himself.

I've never seen a more frightening sight.

And with revitalized strength, I whip out my wand, point, and shout the first spell I can think
of, "Stupefy!"

The red beam hits him square in the head and he collapses.

I think about sending a Patronus, but I'm far too weak to channel any happy thoughts right
now.
So instead I grip my bleeding and swollen fingers into the carpet as best I can, and I use all
my strength to scoot away from him, scrunching my face in pain as I do so. As I drag myself
back across the room, carpet burns set my skin afire, but I keep going. I can barely hold
myself up, the pain from everything weighs me down. Each movement causes intense agony,
but I try to push it all away and get to safety. I think I'm still in shock, I don't think the trauma
my body and my baby have gone though has fully registered. My mind is erratic with useless
thoughts and all I can focus on is safety.

Finally, I make it to the door of the break room and I force myself into a sitting position to
reach the doorknob. There is a trail of blood that mars the clean carpet. I check all over, but I
already know where it's coming from. Me. My legs are saturated. We're losing this fight. The
both of us are. I start to panic. The pulling open of this door is some of the worst torture I've
ever experienced and as soon as it opens, I rest on the ground.

I can't do this anymore. I just can't.

But then I hear it.

I hear the sound of her heels before I see her and my body relaxes.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry I'm—oh my God!"

Pansy's face is blurred, but becomes a little clearer when she drops to her knees, not by much.
She's screaming for help, shaking me, calling my name desperately, but I feel myself fading
and there's nothing I can do. I've done all I can to get to this point.

She holds my head; I feel her tears dripping on my face. She grabs my wand from my hand
and she sends a Patronus. To who? I don't know. Her voice is frantic, she's discovered the
blood; I can no longer see her face, but I hear the terror and I feel her hands shaking.
"Hermione!" Pansy takes a few breaths to keep calm, but I don't think its working, "Squeeze
my hand if you can hear me."

I try to listen, I try to focus on her, but I can't. I try to focus on the slightly kicking baby, but I
can't.

I just squeeze her hand.

Her sobs break my heart, "Someone is coming. I need you to hold on, okay?"

I squeeze her hand again.

I'm just happy she found me. I'm just happy the baby is kicking, even a little bit.

But…me? I'm so tired…just so tired. Pansy does little to assuage my pain, she instead, pulls
me out into the hallway, grunting and straining as she does so.

In the bright lights of the hall, she sees just how bad it is and it sends her whirling back into
panic mode. She's hysterical when she drops down on her knees again, holding my neck firm,
"Hermione! There's so much blood! I don't know what to do!"
Her voice sounds terrified and she's crying as she screams for someone to help. I hear feet.
Voices. Panicked screams.

She tries to smack me to keep me awake, but everything is getting darker anyway. All I can
do right now is pray. I'm not religious, not even the slightest bit, but I pray. I don't pray for
me, I pray for Elizabeth. I pray that she makes it, I pray that she gets to take her first breath, I
pray so hard tears fall. And when I'm finished praying, I use the rest of my strength to pull
Pansy to me and with labored breathing, I tell her probably the most important thing I've ever
told her, "Save her first—" I start coughing, turning my head. I see the blood on the white
floor.

I stop fighting and welcome the clouds, waiting for them to engulf me from all sides. I
vaguely feel someone lift me off the floor in the back of my mind and exhale.

Finally the pain stops, and I'm at peace.

Part Three : Alive.

February 3rd

I've made a huge mistake and I wonder if there is time to take it back.

Do you know what I've failed to do? No? Well, I can't say I'm surprised.

Initially, I don't know either and I realise that I'm just like everyone else, just like the
nameless person next to me, just like you. We have different stories, personalities, faces,
lifestyles, blood, but ultimately the same opinions about life. Neither of us knows the answer
to this question, but unlike everyone, I think I do. So, again I ask…what have we all failed to
do? Still don't know? I'm still not surprised.

We all have been making this mistake over and over, unknowingly. We spend our entire lives
just scarcely missing out on the answer. We spend our entire lives not caring because there's
always time left to care…or so we think. Life, as we all know, doesn't last forever. We take it,
life, for granted…well, that is, until you're too close to death to start caring. Until you're too
close to the end to start wondering…so you must have an idea yet…no?

Our biggest mistake is never really noticing the magic that still lies in each day of our lives.
We never really appreciate the simple gift of being alive. It's our greatest miracle, our most
beautiful gift, one that may don't deserve, and many take for granted. Even at my best, I
never really did understand the gift. Now, I think I do. Isn't it ironic that people don't
understand the miracle of life until it begins to fade…until it's gone?

We never understand the simple things, nor do we pay attention to them. We miss the joys of
a stunning sunset and sunrise, the magic of a song, the fun in dancing in the rain, the joy of
catching snowflakes on your tongue or fireflies in the summer, the budding of wildflowers,
the wisdom of youth, the power of love, the nativity of age, the emotions in a voice…the
familiarity of a touch.
Life gives us these incredible gifts and the real tragedy of it is the very same mistake I've
made.

I've never noticed the gift life has given me. I've spent my life working, getting ahead,
running, fighting, and focusing on everything except what's really important. In doing this,
I've held this gift in my hand and never used it. I've never lived. It's like holding a priceless
gem in your hand and not ever knowing it's in your hand until the moment you die.

It's a waste.

Not to sound all philosophical, but life is worth more than all the gems in the world.

My life thus far has been my gift, though I didn't really think so until recently. It's been a pain
sometimes, I've had some rough times, I've lost people who were close, I've had really unfair
things happen to me, but I wouldn't change my life for anything because I've done good too.
Though there was a time in my life when I didn't think I would ever get to this point. Now I
feel blessed to be here.

I would've missed out on so much.

It's funny.

Most would say that at my age, my life hasn't begun. But I know something most people
don't. I've seen more magic in my years than people three times my age, but I've seen so
much more pain, enough to last a lifetime. I know, more so now, that there is a tiny miracle in
being alive. I've neglected it so long, but with my second chance, I won't neglect it ever
again.

As my eyes start to open, someone says, "Welcome back to the world, Miss. Granger, you
gave us a right fine scare there."

Eyes.

All I see are blue eyes…blue eyes that belong to the squib doctor who practices Muggle
medicine we keep on staff here, in the event of emergencies. Dr. Davenport. With a quick
scan, I don't see anyone familiar. All I see are his eyes set on his concerned face. My
breathing becomes labored, panicked even, but before I venture any further down this path
toward a full-blown panic attack, he opens my mouth and tips my chin and one drop of strong
calming potion does the job quickly.

I feel myself relax almost instantly.

"There is no need to panic, Miss. Granger," he informs, "You are safe and so is your daughter.
Delivered her myself two days ago. She's a bit premature, under five pounds at birth, but
she's under constant vigilant watch by your friend Miss. Lovegood and Mrs. Weasley. I must
say Elizabeth was a loud little thing; she nearly startled me and Mr. Malfoy when she started
screaming. Who knew that so much noise could come from a baby so tiny?" Dr. Davenport
chuckles.
I don't think I can convey the feelings running through me at this exact moment. I'm happy
about the fact that she's safe, blessed that we both made it out of there, confused about a lot
of things, sad that I couldn't carry her to term and deliver her the normal way to ensure her
safety, worried about my friends, desperate to see a familiar face, and very overwhelmed by
everything. I want to cry, but I can't thanks to the potion. I have a daughter, a real daughter,
who screams loud, has met her father, and has a birthday…and I get to see every one of them.
Amazed and internally emotional, I let his words run through my brain and then I screw my
face up in confusion.

"Draco was there?"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy arrived on the scene three minutes after the found you with Ginny Weasley.
He and Ginny were present for the birth, but he stayed on with you while they healed the
internal bleeding and other traumas…he's only leaves your side to check on Elizabeth."

"Can I go see my daughter? Where are my friends? Where's Anne? I—"

He calms me with a touch on my shoulder, "One question at a time. You can see your
daughter, but I have to examine you out before I can take you there. As for your friends, Ron
Weasley and Harry Potter are outside the door. Pansy Parkinson is with them. Ginny Weasley
is with Mr. Malfoy, Anne Granger, George Weasley, Luna Lovegood, and Mr. and Mrs.
Weasley, looking after your daughter." He sounded like he'd had plenty of time to get to know
everyone.

Slightly impatient, I let him help me out of bed and into slippers and a robe Draco must've
had delivered here. As soon as I'm nice and warm, I do a series of simple exercises. Walk
across the room forwards and backwards. Lift my arms in various angles. Read a passage.
Memorise colors and phrases and repeat later. Touch my finger to my nose. Perform a spell
with my wand Pansy retrieved. Bend over and touch my toes. I do them all with ease. It's like
nothing that afternoon happened, no broken fingers, no nothing, the only thing I have left to
remind me is a patch of missing hair in the center of my head, a slew of bruises, and a faint
Cesarean scar magic can't heal. My face looks normal, despite the deep bruising. And aside
from a mild headache, I feel good and a bit tired.

Still he makes me sit in a wheelchair, but I roll myself out. Immediately, I'm faced with three
very concerned friends.

"Hermione!" They all push off the wall and take turns hugging me. Ron first, Harry second,
Pansy last.

Pansy's is the longest, because neither of us will let go.

Aside from my daughter and Draco, I'm happiest to see her. She's crying softly on me and if I
could, I'd be crying right along with her. I know I scared her to death. I remember her
sounding helpless and terrified. I owe a lot to her and I'm guessing I can credit Draco's hasty
arrival to her Patronus.

When she pulls away finally, I wipe her eyes, "You did well, Pansy. Thank you so much."
Wordlessly, she nods and before Dr. Davenport and take the handle of the wheelchair, Pansy
grabs it, "I got it."

He points us in the direction and walks down the hall.

Ron and Harry tell me everything they know about that day on our way to the nursery, while
Pansy remains silent. They said that once they enervated Nott, he started singing like a
songbird, confessing everything. "He admitted to following you for months after that day at
Hogwarts and he was lying about having an uncle in the hospital…he sounded insane, talking
to himself and whatnot. He admitted his plans of how he was going to modify your memory
once you were knocked out and kill the baby once she was born. They immediately locked
him in Azkaban. There probably won't be a trial, everyone is outraged…someone snuck in
and took a few pictures of the scene after they carried you away." Harry informs.

I'm just reeling from everything. I was being stalked and I didn't even know it. I feel kind of
stupid.

But it's over now and there's no need to dwell.

"Malfoy was a mess," Ron starts slowly and I look up at him, confused, "I've never
sympathised for him, but I did that day. He had a tough decision to make and almost no time
to make it in, listen to your wishes or ignore them."

"What did he do?"

"He listened to you." Pansy replies solemnly.

All is silent for a moment and I reflect. I'm glad things worked out and if I had the chance to
do it all over again, I would still choose to save the her over me.

"I don't think he's slept since it all happened," Ron informs, "He's kind of been on auto-pilot
and thank Merlin Blaise was here initially because one of the healers, Grant, I think, snapped
on him and told him to leave once Elizabeth was born. I know Grant was worried, but he
didn't have to be rude. I thought Malfoy was going to use an Unforgivable. Luckily for them,
he couldn't have a wand in there."

I can't imagine Draco Malfoy in any other state other than calm so to hear Ron tell me all this
is astonishing.

There is a small crowd outside the private nursery Elizabeth is in and the next few minutes
are a blur.

Anne sees me first and rushes down the hall to me, hugging me close. The moment Anne
steps aside, Ginny roughly pushes her way through everyone and launches herself at me.
Pansy has to stop the wheelchair from rolling back. She's crying and I'm close to tears
myself, feeling the calming potion start to wear off. Mr. Weasley hugs me next and tells me I
gave them all a right scare and George says he knew all along I wouldn't die. Luna is the one
who helps me out the wheelchair and gives me a big hug. Mrs. Weasley is next and she's
doting on me, making sure I'm really fine and telling me what a beautiful baby girl I have.
But then they step aside and my heart starts to race when I look up to see Draco standing just
outside the nursery. His eyes are unreadable, he looks exhausted and slightly haggard, and
he's in hospital robes; the love I have for this man swells to the breaking point. When Draco
wraps his arms around me, I don't think any amount of calming potion can keep me from
breaking down in tears. That morning easily could've been the last time I ever saw him and as
his grip on me tightens, I think he realises it too. Draco grips my shoulders gently and leans
in, kissing me tenderly, soft lips move over mine with love and affection. I return the kiss
with equal tenderness, tears running down my cheeks.

I need this and him, but I think we need each other more than ever.

He whispers, "I love you," in my ear and the sincerity in his voice makes me sob in his chest.

I love you.

There is such strength in these small words; three words, eight letters, three syllables. But I
don't understand it. How can such small words be used to describe the emotion that takes
over my heart, body, soul, and life every moment of every day? The words are so tiny and
simple yet so complicated and attached to so many other unspoken words. Underneath the
words lay promises of not only the future, but here and now. Beneath the words lay the
reason why each of our moments together is so special and fulfilling. Below the words lay
the truth: what we have isn't just something that'll fizzle out tomorrow, what we have is
something that'll last a lifetime.

It's been so hard for us to say, yet so easy for him to let the words roll off his tongue now. I
don't ask why he loves me, I just know, and if he never speaks these three words again, I'll be
content with hearing them today. We don't need fancy words or elaborate details. I don't need
flowers and cards and candy to know that he loves me. I don't need anything to see the love
in his eyes. I don't even need to hear him say it because no matter how guarded he is, I
already know how he feels.

All we really need is each other and our baby and the time we have together. Draco and I
don't ask for more than that nor do we expect more, we don't expect anything. We don't have
a plan, we simply live in what we've got right now; feeling and sometimes speaking these
three little words that say everything that we can't say, everything that really matters.

Part Four: Child of Mine

Elizabeth is so tiny and so beautiful and I'm amazed at the simple fact that something so
precious can be conceived from two people so chaotic and dysfunctional.

I'm instantly captivated by her and I instantly love her and know I will for the rest of my life
and even beyond. How can you love someone you've never met? How is it I'm willing to die
to save someone I don't know? That I care for her life more than I care for my own? It's very
possible, it's very real, and I now better understand a mother's love because I will do
anything, anything to see to it that she lives a happy life and wants for nothing. I want the
best for her and I am willing to sacrifice myself in order to make it happen.
And judging from the look on Draco's face, I can tell he feels the same way.

I can't stop staring while he holds her. It's the first time either of us has had permission to
hold her since I woke up. She's sleeping peacefully in his arms. Draco looks at her like she is
the most important person in his life. He is attached. She's two days old and she has him
wrapped around her tiny little fist. Draco is confident when he holds her; he's held her a lot
and I patiently, okay, semi-patiently wait my turn. She's no longer than his forearm and the
thick blanket Mrs. Weasley knitted for her makes her look smaller than she is.

I look up at him, only to find him watching me carefully, "Do you want to hold her?"

I nod.

When he gently places her in my arms, minding her head, I'm besieged with feelings. This is
our baby. I can't believe that for one second I thought about getting rid of her. I'm so happy
right now; I don't think I can properly describe the absolute joy and pride I feel right now.
Elizabeth starts to stir some and then opens her left eye slowly, almost curiously, and kind of
grunts softly in that way babies do. Her eyes are grey and I'm not surprised. They may stay
that way, they may change. Nature always has a way of knowing what looks best.

I find myself smiling when Draco says, "That's the first time she's opened her eyes."

And then they close.

They come in to feed her, but I ask her if I can do it instead. It takes a while, but with some
coaching and assistance, I get used to it and so does Elizabeth. She's a fast learner…so am I.
Draco just watches it all transpire in a silent amazement. After burping her, watching Draco
clumsily change her for practice, and holding her just a while longer, she falls asleep and I
hand her to the medi-witch and watch her lay her in the incubator.

I sit on the chair and just watch her sleep.

She's going to be here for a few weeks and I can't stand the thought of leaving here tomorrow
without her.

Draco touches my shoulder, "You should be getting back to bed."

My eyes are transfixed on her, "No, not yet."

"You need rest."

I know he's right, "Just a little longer?"

"Okay."

We sit in a comfortable silence, just watching Elizabeth's chest rise and fall with each rapid
breath she takes.

February First.
 The day my life really began.

I'm looking forward to every day. I'm looking forward to watching Elizabeth grow, develop,
crawl, walk, speak her first words, read her first book, and write her name for the first time,
her first time on platform 9 and ¾ …birthdays and Christmas and holidays and holding her
and loving her. I'm looking forward to being with Draco, waking up to him, letting our
relationship mature and develop, and maybe one day even I'll even marry him. I'm looking
forward to spending time with my friends, laughing with them, joking with them, watching
them spoil Elizabeth. I'm looking forward to everything and to living my life, appreciating
the little things.

And it starts right now.

I'm falling asleep in my chair when Draco finally coaxes me to leave.

Exhausted from today's excitement, he has to carry me back to my room and lay me in bed.

He's about to grab his jacket and settle in the chair next to the bed when I stop him, "Lay here
with me."

I scoot to make room for him. I don't know how we're going to make this work, but I don't
want him far.

Draco's eyes soften. He takes off his shoes. I draw back the blanket. He grabs an extra one
and spreads it out. I scoot until my back touches the bar. He climbs in tentatively and relaxes,
wrapping his arms around me. I pull the covers over us.

As I doze, he watches me with concern.

My lips rest gently on his head and I whisper, "Sleep. You need it more than I do."

It takes about a second for him to comply.

Chapter End Notes

2009 A/N: This is THE hardest chapter I've ever had to write and I hope I got everything
down perfect (or as close to perfect as I can). This chapter didn't happen anything like I
planned, but it turned out well. I took an idea and ran with it and I hope everyone enjoys
it and is touched by it as my cousin was (she read it first). Not much else to say, only
have a happy reading
 Thirteen
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Part One: Time

February 16th

Lizzie comes home a week early because she's put on weight and is developing rapidly, not to
mention photographers are constantly trying to sneak in and take pictures of her, which is
something I find frightening. Lizzie is...famous. Partly because of the attack on me, how she
was born, and because she's a Malfoy and a Granger. Some say she's the most famous baby
since Harry. I wish she weren't. I don't like the fact that people are willing to use my
daughter's face to make money. It's disturbing.

The last straw is when a photographer nearly knocks her incubator over trying to capture a
close-up picture of her sleeping. If you think the "Chocolate frog incident" was bad, then you
can scarcely imagine how I react when I literally have to levitate a incubator to protect a
sleeping baby, who did not remain asleep long after…oh, it makes my blood boil every time I
think about it. Anyways, everyone was at the flat to welcome her home, but right after Draco
takes her out the carrier, she throws up on him. Draco doesn't find it as hilarious as Ron and I,
and glowers at the both of us.

Lizzie gets me back for laughing at her daddy by throwing up on me later on that night.

Damn.

I just purchased a baby scale, much to Draco's utmost dismay. I'm going to chronicle her
weight gain.

February 20th

I don't get the wonderful opportunity to experience the "Lizzie Scream" Dr. Davenport,
Draco, and the Medi-witches who take care of her warn me about until the first night we
bring her home…where she proceeds to give me, Ginny, Luna and Pansy (who stay the night
to help) a full demonstration every four hours.

These are the worst four days of my life. The first two, we all take turns attending to her,
rotating and trying to get some sleep in between because when she starts, no one can really
sleep. Except for Ginny, who sleeps like the dead anyway. Who knew a baby could cry so
loud?

Cry, sleep, feed, and poop; that's all she does for two solid days, not in any particular order.

I really think we're all going mad by afternoon two, that is, until Anne shows up. With a slew
of nieces and nephews, she has a lot of experience on the matter and helps when we need her
most, but even her eyes widen the first time she hears Lizzie scream. Anne brings order, tells
me that soon I need to get Lizzie on a sleeping schedule, but for now, we have to abide by her
schedule. She teaches me how to use the pump she bought me, she sends Pansy home to
recuperate and Ginny to Harry's because we, as parents, need to build trust with our baby,
meaning we have to attend to every one of her needs.

Pansy comes to visit on the third afternoon and brings charmed earplugs for us all to wear
during her screaming fits, but it's too late, I'm sure Draco and I have lost a bit of our hearing.
It takes the rest of that day, and most of the next, for me and Draco to think of methods to
reduce the amount of screaming, some we find out by mere coincidence and some are
advised to us by Anne, via phone. Rocking, playing a little classical music, heartbeats,
talking to her, rubbing her back…all of this works, much to our relief.

At the end of the "four days of hell" fiasco, when I weigh her, I see Lizzie and her daddy
yawn the exact same way at the exact same time. It brings a smile to my face.

March 6th

The three of us hardly leave the flat following the four days of hell because we're bonding;
it's a form of self-imposed hibernation. Ginny is at Harry's, planning the wedding. Pansy's
mum is sick and she's been at the Parkinson mansion. Luna's been busy playing referee to
Harry and Ginny. Ron's been sulking without Pansy and I don't need his sighs and longing
looks. The only two people we let in are Mrs. Weasley and Anne. We use the hour or so they
play with and dote on Lizzie to nap or kiss…mostly nap.

We spend the first week of hibernation watching her, playing with her when she's not
screaming, and taking pictures to chronicle her life-okay, me more than Draco because as an
obsessed mum I'm determined to chronicle every event in her life. We watch her looks take
shape and her blonde hair grow just a tidbit, getting used to being parents, avoiding persistent
media, and sleeping when we can. Because she's gaining weight, she has a set of slightly
chubby cheeks. Merlin, she's just adorable when she brings her little mitten-covered fists to
her face, yawns, everything. She recognizes my voice; I use it to placate her when she wants
to start wailing.

We spend and the second week setting her to a sleeping schedule, which happens fairly easy
and without much fuss. Ginny comes home at the end of the two-week hibernation-Lizzie's
one month celebration "dinner"-and is pleased by the progress.

Everything seems to get better from this point on.

At the end of the first month, Lizzie hates the baby scale with a passion.

At five weeks, she's watching us intently when we talk to her like she actually has a clue
what we're talking about, and coos every time one of us speaks. I take her to Muggle London
for the first time because I know photographers won't dare to take pictures, especially when
they can get arrested for stalking and threaten to violate the secrecy of our world. Anyway,
Ginny wants us bridesmaids to pick out a dress we want, maroon or cream (the wedding
colors). We go for maroon. Darker colors are slimming and I haven't lost very much of the
baby weight.
If babies could look bored, Lizzie would.

At six weeks she smiles for the first time. She's waking from a nap, we're about to take her
for a routine check-up and Draco says, "Merlin, she's getting big," and she smiles. That's the
first time we see her dimples, and it's just too adorable for words. I just so happen to get it on
camera. Draco and I, at the insisting of an overly eager Pansy and Ginny, leave Lizzie in their
care while we have our first date as parents. It's just dinner, a small walk, and a wizarding
play. During intermission, we agree we miss her and we come home to find Lizzie already
put down for the night and Pansy knocked out, exhausted. Ginny is lulling in and out of sleep
on the arm chair and wonders aloud, "Merlin, how do you do it?"

"I've been asking myself that for weeks now."

At seven weeks, she coos, "ah", which is the first thing she's ever done outside of wailing at
the top of her lungs. She's constantly looking around at everything. Lizzie is feverish this
week and scares the living daylights out of us. Turns out, she has an ear infection and we
spend the rest of the week with a highly irritated and feverish baby, who does not like taking
medication and has it slipped to her in a bottle. Draco brews a potion to keep her temperature
down and it seems to calm everything back down.

April 1st

By eight weeks she's lifting her head off the floor when I lay her on the floor. Ron is the first
to see her "social" smile. He's making faces at her and making noises like a monkey…Lizzie
breaks out with this huge grin I don't get on camera. I don't need it anyway; I'll remember that
one for the rest of my life. Lizzie is a baby who gets a lot of attention and right now, she
loves it.

At the end of the second month, Draco is finally coming around to the whole baby scale idea.

At week nine, Lizzie has a new best friend…her pacifier and this teddy bear Blaise bought
her, which gets their own cry. She's constantly pulling at her clothes and is never too far from
the blanket Mrs. Weasley knitted for her.

Draco and I finally have our first fight post-Lizzie. He wants to take Lizzie to meet my dad
and I refuse. I know it's silly, but he abandoned me when I needed him most and he doesn't
deserve the right to meet her. Besides, I doubt his opinion has changed about me or my
daughter and we don't need his negativity. After a slammed door and two nights apart, we
make up, both deciding its best to drop the subject for now…

Week ten has Lizzie loving to spend some time on the floor, she can raise her head and
shoulders off the ground and bears weight on her little forearms. Ron spends his spare time
trying to teach her to roll over to which Draco curtly replies, "My daughter is not a bloody
dog, Weasley."

I don't know how long it takes me to stop laughing.

All her godparents volunteer to baby-sit while Draco and I go out on dates and it takes three
of them for us to finally make it through one without coming home early.
The eleventh week of Lizzie's life is a hectic one. She starts to babble a lot more and "talks
back" when anyone speaks to her. She plays a lot, squeals a lot, and is highly interested in
anything that has shape. Draco has an emergency at work and has to come in even though
he's taken time off and I have to extend my maternity leave. No one can baby-sit and I really
don't want people to see her due to the hoopla surrounding her, it'll probably scare her. Thank
Merlin for Anne and Mrs. Weasley, they come in no time and stay with her while I go to the
hospital.

Everyone asks about Lizzie and I tell them all she's just fine and at home napping under the
supervision of her two grandmas.

I get my leave extended for another three months.

May 1st

At twelve weeks Lizzie makes noise constantly and I still think it's cute; she's very energetic
and tickled by everything. She can hold her head up, but wobbles some. I think watching
Lizzie has made Harry want to be a dad; Ginny kind of looks at him like he's crazy for a
minute there when he mentions it at dinner. Pansy and I snicker. Anne wants to get her
christened and since dad is not a church-man, I oblige…Draco is a little hard to convince, but
in the end, we come to a compromise. Anne gets her christening and Draco gets his wizard's
form of a christening when she is six months old.

Draco is confused by muggle traditions and Lizzie cries through almost the entire ceremony.

At the end of month three, I stand against the wall of the loo and watch as Lizzie and Draco
have an animated conversation about absolutely nothing while he weighs her.

June 1st

Week thirteen flies by really quick. Lizzie successfully rolls over during one of Ron's
"lessons", much to his and Pansy's excitement. She's grabbing everything these days and for
the first time I realise she is growing up much too fast. She has this bit of a growth spurt this
week and gains almost a pound. Luna becomes the first person outside of me or Draco that
rocks her to sleep. Must be something about Luna's aura that's calming…

Lizzie starts drooling everywhere one morning and it never stops. Draco is absent most of
this week, between work emergencies and checking on the house, he's usually gone before I
get up and he gets back after I put Lizzie down for the night. Lizzie is temperamental the
entire week.

On one day Draco is here, Ginny invites Katie and Susan over to meet Lizzie and it takes a
while, but she eventually warms up, they love her. Parvati comes over the very same day and
I already know she wants something before she asks. It's around dinnertime when she shows
up and I've cooked for all of us. I invite her to stay and she does. She sees Lizzie briefly, she's
fallen asleep on the couch, under her blanket, clutching her teddy bear that's about as big as
she is, and sucking on her pacifier. Yes, I've already snapped that shot. So cute.
Anyway, Parvati wants us to consider-with Nott pleading insanity-letting her be the first to
interview us about that day and photograph Lizzie for a little spread in Witch Weekly. It will
kind of like her introduction to the world and my account of what happened. Draco and I
discuss it and agree it's for the best and maybe she's old enough to be taken out. Maybe it'll
diminish the attention on her and maybe they won't consider his attempt at reducing his
sentence.

I don't want him out of Azkaban any time before Lizzie turns thirty.

Lizzie laughs for the first time the following week. Ginny bought her a toy broom to replace
the one that accidentally flew out the window. It flies around Lizzie's head and she claps her
hands and laughs. I don't know who's more excited: us or Lizzie. She laughs at everything
now. She's making all kinds of noises these days and touching every toy she can reach and is
a pleasure to be around…when she's not having a crying fit.

This week is the week of the interview and the pictures. I give them one of Lizzie a couple of
days after she's born while she's in the clear incubator. After the interview, which was as
tough as it was cathartic, they take one with the three of us, I'm holding Lizzie and he's
kissing her forehead. One with just him and Lizzie that you can clearly see Lizzie is his
daughter, there's no doubt about it. Draco is sitting in a chair, holding her. He's bored and she
is too and they're making the same face. They take one with me and Lizzie and she's content
with and drooling. And they take one of Lizzie by herself. It takes some coaching, but we get
her to smile, displaying her cute dimples.

Week sixteen is when we see the story in Witch Weekly. Parvati did a wonderful job with a
sensitive subject and the magical pictures turned out well. It's Draco's birthday this week and
instead of throwing a big party, Draco spends the night talking to me in bed, our daughter
sleeping between us. It strange that it's been a year since everything started.

Of course, Blaise had to throw a party for him, despite his absence…I heard it was just as
amazing as ever and no one really noticed the absence of the birthday boy.

As a test, I take Lizzie to Diagon Alley to the joke shop to visit George and the maybe fifteen
customers stare at her, but they don't approach, except to tell me I have a beautiful daughter.
George gets to hold her and comments that there is a future customer in the making…

Not if I have anything to do with it.

At the end of the fourth month, Lizzie displays some very worrisome and Slytherin behavior
on occasion.

Part Two: Daughters

July 2nd

This morning is the start to week seventeen and Lizzie wakes up just as Pansy, Ginny, and I
come in from our morning jog, right on schedule. I hear her cries diminish and I know Draco
is already in there. He's practically been living here for four months; we're practicing for
permanence.

I recognise her cry immediately and warm up a bottle so it's ready for Draco when he brings
her into the kitchen.

With a quick kiss good morning, one on his lips and another on Lizzie's forehead, I jump in
the shower and Pansy Floos home to shower and then to the manor to set up decorations for
the baby shower. After putting it off for obvious reasons, today is the big day. The baby
shower Draco hasn't been looking forward to. It'll be the first day Lizzie will be around more
than twenty people at once and all the attention will be on her.

I'm a little worried.

I don't know how she will behave around a lot of people and I don't know her feelings on
being touched by strangers, I'm just hoping for the best and praying she won't treat everyone
to her infamous cry. We're spending the night in the manor for the first time, just to test how
she is in different environments.

I hope that goes well too.

Now, it's time for the moment of truth for me.

After drying off, I step on the scale.

And I pump my fist in the air triumphantly.

Getting closer to normal.

I emerge from my room, dressed in a cute floral dress, and I'm greeted with squeals of
delight, laughter, and sloshing water. Draco must be bathing her in the sink and I make sure I
have my camera ready. Sure enough, there they are, Lizzie squealing in delight as Draco
bathes her…her blonde hair is in a short soapy Mohawk.

I snap the camera and start laughing, which makes her squeal and laugh more.

"That's Ginny's doing," Draco inform with a chuckle, "She was helping…or hindering the
process it seems."

"It makes for an adorable picture," I push up and kiss his cheek, "How'd you sleep?"

He starts rinsing her down with the sprayer, taking his time and being careful, "Pretty well,
you?"

"Did you realise that last night was the first night she didn't wake up at three in the
morning…she slept all night."

It takes a quiet moment of thinking, but he realises it too…and when he wraps a babbling
Lizzie in a towel and turns, he notices me. Draco's eyes slightly widen and he looks me up
and down "That dress looks good on you."
I'll take a compliment anyway I can get it, but I'll tease him in the meanwhile, "Are you
flirting with me?"

His reply is simple and enigmatic, but very casual and very much like the charming Draco
Malfoy all the girls fawned over at school, "Perhaps." There is a small transfer of Lizzie from
his arms to mine and with a flirtatious smile; I turn away, making sure my hips sway just a
little more than usual as I take Lizzie back to the nursery to dress her.

As I dress Lizzie in this pretty yellow dress with sunflowers, I realize Draco and I haven't had
sex since she was born.

At first it's because I needed time to heal and life has been really hectic around here, but
when things start to calm, the reason change to me not feeling very attractive, something
that's starting to change now that I have most of the baby weight off. Maybe I'm going to
have to handle this predicament. I charm Lizzie's soft blonde hair dry, brush it down with a
soft brush, and put the matching headband on, much to her initial dismay. I distract her with a
tickle and her pacifier, leaving the headband forgotten for now.

Ginny comes in and takes Lizzie off my hands.

So I slip back into the bedroom, shutting the door with a small 'click' behind me. Draco is
half-dressed, facing away from me, and I creep up behind him, slowly wrapping my arms
around him and running my hands up and down his stomach. He tenses slightly. "Don't start
something you can't finish."

I smile, kissing the center of his back before slightly dragging my teeth across the same spot.
I smile to myself when he jumps ever so slightly, "I'm not," I reply innocently, "but I was
thinking about something."

"Oh, you were? I'm not surprised. Pray tell what you were thinking about."

"We haven't had sex since Lizzie was born. Have you noticed that?"

That makes him tense again, but he keeps his voice even, "I've noticed."

I lift up on the tips of my toes and whisper in his ear, "Let's make up for lost time…tonight."

His reserve cracks and Draco shudders.

And before he can say anything, I kiss his shoulder and leave him to dress, smiling. Before I
close the door, I see him sit down on the edge of the bed and run his hand through his hair,
telling me I've gotten to him. Victoriously, I make sure no sound is made when I shut the door
completely.

I come into the living room where Ginny and Lizzie are shaking rattles together and sit on the
couch, smiling.

Ginny looks up, questioning me with her eyes, "What are you so smug about?"

I chuckle, "Oh, nothing."

Part Three: Promises

*smut*

The party goes off without a hitch and I must admit Pansy does a wonderful job planning this
extravaganza.

Music. Friends. Food. Company. Laughter. Jokes. It's all great.

It's good to see those I haven't seen in a long time.

Neville and Hannah. Lavender. Dean and Susan. Padma and Rodger with their newly adopted
daughter, Ella. Lee and Katie. Daphne must've taken my advice because she's here with
Seamus, just as friends, but it's a start. The entire Weasley family. Teddy is here with his
grandmother, Andromeda. She and Draco disappear to talk for a few. Ellis is here with a
select few from Draco's job and Grant is here with a select few of my other co-workers.
Hagrid's here, talking to Anne, who has never seen a half-giant before. McGonagall and
Slughorn are here too, bantering on whether Lizzie will be a Slytherin or a Gryffindor. I can
go on forever telling about all the people here, but really, there are too many here to discuss
them all.

"Oh, Hermione, where's Lizzie?" an excited Alicia Spinnet asks.

Of course, I don't have to look long before I see her.

Even at four months, Lizzie takes after Draco in the sense that she does not enjoy parties.

She is sitting on her daddy's lap on one of the many sofas, headband abandoned, yawning and
looking around with this look that says just how much she's enjoying herself. Pansy is talking
to a bored-looking Draco, probably trying to get him to get up and mingle, but she may as
well stop, it's not going to work. I'm just happy he's in the same room as the festivities and
not hiding away upstairs.

"Elizabeth looks like Draco." Justin Finch-Fletchley comments for the third time since he's
seen her, but adds, "They have a lot of the same mannerisms."

I can see that.

Half an hour later, Lizzie moves from his lap to lying on her stomach on the floor, pushing
herself up while Draco keeps a protective eye on her while he and his aunt chat. Ella and
Teddy are playing with her and Lizzie seems to be entertained for the moment, laughing and
squealing.

"She's adorable, Hermione," Lavender swoons. "She looks just like Draco, but she has your
bone structure."

Umm…thanks? Is that all she could pick out? My bone structure is the only thing that makes
Lizzie look like me? I happen to think she has the blonde version of my eyebrows too…and
my cheekbones. Damn it. I go through the emotional turmoil of carrying her and she looks
and sort of acts like Draco Malfoy. How is this fair?vFifteen minutes later and Lizzie is bored
with Ella and Teddy and starts yawning again.

I scoop her up and try to take her around the room, but she wants nothing to do with any of
these strangers. Five minutes later, I'm standing over a lemonade drinking Draco Malfoy
holding Lizzie on one hip, headband back on her head, still to her dismay.

He looks up slowly, "You look perturbed."

"Lizzie doesn't look a thing like me," I blurt out. Not exactly what I intended to say.

Andromeda chuckles, "The Malfoy genes are strong."

"Apparently. Still, she really looks nothing like me."

He looks at me, puzzled, "Umm…okay…you do realise I can't do a thing about that, don't
you?"

A small smile appears on my face, "I'm just tired of everyone telling me."

Draco gets up and kisses me quickly on the lips, if his goal is to placate me, it works, just a
smidgen.

He then takes Lizzie out of my arms and holds her. The two of them exchange looks and then
look at me briefly and sweet Merlin, they look like father and daughter. They both have that,
"mummy's crazy" look on their faces-okay, it may be my overactive imagination at work
again, but that's probably what Draco is thinking at the moment.

He stares at me blankly for a few more moments, "Are you trying to get me to go and
socialise?"

"That would make me feel a little better."

Draco rolls his eyes, sighs, excuses himself from his aunt, and disappears in the crowd of
talking guests, holding Lizzie proudly in his arms.

"Well, don't you have quite the little family here?" Hannah comments with a smile minutes
later. "Parenthood suits you two…do you plan on having any more children?"

The snort comes out before I can stop it. "Oh, no…not now, no way. I'm content with one
baby. I have a feeling she's going to give me a run for my money when she can run."

Hannah laughs, "She is a Malfoy…the resemblance between them is really…" she trails off,
this amazed gleam in her eyes. Her eyes then wander to Draco who is talking to Slughorn and
Harry…two people he's familiar with. I shake my head. He will never change.

Hannah's voice interrupts my thoughts. "A bunch of people were speculating that Lizzie isn't
his daughter, but all that speculation shut up once Witch Weekly published the pictures." I
excuse myself from Hannah a few moments later, not interested in petty gossip about any of
us, and approach Slughorn, Harry, and Draco.
I drop a kiss on Lizzie's cheek. She yawns again and I think it's getting close to naptime.

"Ah, Miss. Granger…there you are," Slughorn smiles, "When will I be able to call you Mrs.
Malfoy?"

My eyes widen and I clear my throat. "I—" Harry looks like he's ready to burst out laughing
and Draco's face is even. My mind is spinning from the question, I need an out, fast. "I, uh
—" I lock eyes with Draco. His face may be even, but his eyes show just how humored he is.
Bastard. I'll show him. "I think that's more of a question for Draco, seeing as to he gets to
make that decision…" and I kiss a wide-eyed Draco's cheek, excuse myself, and walk away
quickly.

I mingle a bit longer and lose sight of Draco, only to see him back on the damn sofa, with
Lizzie, both brooding. If it weren't such a funny sight, I'd be mad.

But I just laugh and shake my head and accept the fact that he is not a party person…and
neither is my daughter.

After a while, I attempt to make another round with Lizzie again, but it doesn't go well.

She's terrified of Hagrid initially and screams the moment she sees him, but he makes faces
and she calms down. As for everyone else, she stares at all the strangers that try to play and
coo at her with those big grey eyes of hers. And just when Dean thinks he's made some
leverage with her, she waits until he lifts her up in the air over his head to open her mouth
and release a mouth full of drool right in the center of his forehead with a 'splat!' and
proceeds to laugh about it, hard.

"Aargh!" Dean exclaims, looking bemused.

Hiding his chuckle, Draco, looking proud as ever for her very Slytherin behavior, takes
Lizzie from Dean before I get a chance to and directs him to the closest loo.

Dean walks swiftly in the direction of the loo.

He turns around and finds me frowning with my arms folded, tapping my foot.

"What?"

I put my hands on my hips. "You seemed a little happy about that."

"When my daughter displays Slytherin behavior, how can I not be happy?"

I roll my eyes, "She's not even six months old and you're trying to figure out where she's
going to be sorted. Pathetic, Draco."

"Oh, come on, you know you've been thinking about it."

Actually, I have, but he doesn't need to know that, "She needs a bottle and a nap." I kiss his
cheek and hers. Lizzie laughs and I watch them head out the room, shaking my head. Lord
knows I don't need her to be a Slytherin; neither Draco nor Ron will ever let me live it down.
A Gryffindor with a Slytherin baby, humph.

Lizzie eventually comes around…after her nap.

Her disposition towards Hagrid and everyone else changes when she wakes up. Her laughs
and babbling can be heard all over as Ginny takes her around to show her to guests. People
take turns holding her, I discover when I'm looking for the unsociable Draco to start opening
gifts, but after about thirty seconds in a stranger's arms, Lizzie is no longer compliant. But
she does let Dean hold her a bit longer, maybe as an I'm sorry.

After a long search, I find Draco in the same study we conceived Lizzie in, sitting at his desk,
back turned to the open door, but he hears the sound of my shoes when they hit the wooden
floors, "You can come in, you know." He spins in his chair, gets up, and lays his wand on his
desk.

"This sounds familiar."

He smirks and approaches me, "It should. It's been over a year."

I rest my hands on his chest, "I was so determined to get away from you…and here we are, a
year later."

"Would we be here if it weren't for Lizzie?"

"I don't know," I shrug. "I've asked myself that question a hundred times and I still don't
know the answer. Part of me says no, that we're both too stubborn and prideful to have
patched up anything on our own. But part of me thinks that yes, we would. That part of me
thinks that there's always been this invisible force between you and me that's been there since
that night in the Astronomy tower when you held my hand and told me I had dirt on my
chin."

Draco makes a face, "You remember that?"

"I refer to it as the beginning of the dysfunction that was you and me."

He stares at me intensely. "And what are we now?"

"Just that, we."

I like the sound of that. We.

Looking over, my eyes catch the green sofa that I refer to as 'THE sofa.' "You haven't gotten
rid of that thing?"

"Should I? We conceived Lizzie on that couch. It's lucky."

"I don't think I shared your sentiments about last August."

"No, you were too busy slapping me to share sentiments."

I start laughing. "That's probably true," I sober up quickly. "I'm just happy I'm still here to—"

He kisses my forehead, "Me too."

No more words are needed, not for a long time because he wraps his arms around me and
holds me.

It's not until what feels like hours later that I finally say, "Come on, let's go open gifts."

The amount of gifts we receive is astonishing. All kinds of clothes and shoes, blankets and
magical pampers, toys and an enchanted music box, a bouncer and a swing, a play area, and
broom she clearly won't be able to ride for a while. Hagrid bought her a children's book on
magical creatures so she won't be scared of them when she gets older. She has a lot of books,
now that I think about it. I don't mind. The party goes on for hours. I let Draco disappear after
the presents are opened. He wants nothing to do with the party and is getting increasingly
restless and sulky. Where he goes, I don't know, but soon, people slowly start to file out.

And soon enough it's just the inner circle of godparents left.

"Pansy," I sip my drink, "You did a great job with all this."

She smiles proudly and holds Ron's hand, "I had a lot of help from Ron." She kisses his
cheek and he blushes.

Ginny chuckles and looks around. "Where's Draco?"

"You know parties aren't his thing," I shrug, "I'm surprised he stuck around as long as he did."

"Me too, actually. He actually talked to people," Blaise comments in incredulous tones from
his seat next to Luna, peeking over at Lizzie who is sleeping peacefully in her arms.

"Don't sound so astonished," Draco speaks up from the doorway. He's leaning on the frame,
hands in his pockets. "I'm capable of many things."

Not going to disagree with him there.

An hour later, the house is finally clear of all guests and Draco can't be happier. Now I realise
part of why he's been so bloody impatient all afternoon. That promise I made this morning
rings clear in my head. He puts Lizzie down in the crib in her massive and extravagantly
decorated nursery and the next thing I know, we're in the master bedroom, monitor turned on.

My dress and his clothes are pooled around our feet.

I lean back against his naked body, just letting his fingertips run over me.

The feelings running through me are overwhelming and vast and full of assurance, his
touches are full of tenderness. For a moment, thoughts of Lizzie flit through my head, but
Draco touches my chin, turns my head so I'm looking back over my shoulder, and kisses me
until my thoughts are only of him. Only of him and now.
His skin is so warm and soft. I feel his lips on my shoulder and they burn. They burn as he
kisses me again and again, my shoulders, the nape of my neck, the length of my spin, the
curve of my hips and bum. I feel woozy, like I can barely stand on my own. I sense him,
slipping down, down on his knees. He kisses down the back of my legs and back up a new
path.

Draco gets back to his feet and lifts me with ease off the floor and rests me on the edge of the
bed.

I crawl to the center and urge him to follow with the curl of my finger.

He obeys.

We're on our knees in the center of the bed and I once again feel him kissing down, down
between the valley between my breasts, down to my stomach, down. He's slowly pushing me
down, down on the comforter so I can be with him. Be with him. I want to be with Draco as
completely as a person can be with another.

He starts from my feet, his lips work their way up my body, and I feel myself become boiling
hot as this torture goes on.

Again, he's whispering words I can't understand for anything…and again, it doesn't matter.
All that matters is how he feels in my arms and how he manages to draw me to him, even as I
lie beneath him. I arch up to feel him against every part of me and suddenly, I don't want
foreplay, I don't want anything except this. Him.

"Tell me what you want." I hear him whisper in my ear when his body finally blankets mine
and he aligns himself.

Draco's fingers tremble on my face, making me look at him, look into the deep, endless pools
of his eyes. He guard is all the way down and he's totally open right now and for a moment,
all I can do is stare at him…that is, I feel him throbbing between us and my thoughts blur
with lust. I feel my own body, wet and tense, my legs climbing up his back.

He rasps deeply. "Tell me, Hermione."

What I want…it's simple, "Nothing, just you."

His eyes soften and I think I've finally told him what he's waited to hear these past four
years...and I'm stunned that he needs the same validation. And without hesitating another
moment, Draco pushes against me, eases inside me, and fills every empty space in me with
himself. All thoughts of validation and wants are gone from my mind. It's not like anything
before, it's different. He's patient with me, tender even, like he's trying to memorise this
moment forever. I feel myself arching into him, wrapping my arms around his back, tensing
against him. This, right along with everything that is Lizzie, is definitely one of those mental
scrapbook moments.

Draco pauses, just to regain his ground. "Hermione…" it's a small sigh, a breath, a groan, a
whisper. It's all that and so much more.
His eyes, which haven't left mine, crinkle in the corners with his smile. I pull him close to
kiss that smile, close my eyes, and relax.

This moment is cosmic, extraordinary, lovely, and…interrupted by a screaming baby.

"This is not happening," I resolve in my own mind. This can't be happening. We're right here.

I feel Draco relax against me, groaning in the crook of my neck something that sounds like
curse words just before he reluctantly pulls out. God, this is happening.

I suddenly feel empty, still hot and very much bothered.

"Just wait," he says huskily, "I'll change her and we can pick up where we left off."

He kisses me deeply and gets up and off the bed, throwing on a pair of pajama pants.

Groaning, I get under the covers and wait.

And wait…

And wait some more…

I go in the nightstand and pull out a book to read.

I read…

I read some more…

I read thirteen chapters…

Finally, about an hour later and a loud groan, I get up, put on a robe and head in the direction
of the nursery.

Of course, I get lost twice before I find it and push open the double doors slowly.

If I ever tell anyone about this sight they'll never believe me. I can scarcely believe it myself.

There he is, Draco Malfoy, in the rocking chair, sleeping and shirtless, with a diaper-clad
baby girl sleeping on his chest. Music from the charmed music box is playing lowly in the
background and the lights are dimmed. My lip trembles at the sight. I wipe a few tears away
and slowly tip-toe into the nursery, trying not to wake either. My eyes catch the camera
sitting on a dresser and I take full advantage of this sight.

I know it must've been especially difficult to put her down after changing her diaper and
listening to the beat of a heart always seems calms her down when all else fails. I would leave
them here, just as they are, but his back and neck will probably kill him by morning and
Lizzie needs a blanket on her back, it's chilly in the room and the goosebumps are evident.

She protests in her sleep just a little when I lift her off his chest, but with a few rocks, I put
her down in the crib, kiss her head, and pull the blanket over her. Next, I softly run my
fingers through his unruly hair and that wakes the sleeper up. He jumps a little out of his
sleep and his eyes quickly meet mine.

His mouth opens, ready to spew excuses, but I put my finger over my lips, take him by the
hand and lead him out the nursery.

When I shut the door he starts, "I'm sorry I fell asleep like that."

"It's okay. It's been a long day." I kiss him deeply and he wraps his arms around me, "There
will be more opportunities. Come," I pull his hand slightly, "Let's go to bed."

Part Four: On Top of the World

July 31st

Draco has been really quiet and pensive for the last two weeks.

When I ask him what's wrong he says, "Nothing."

But I know he's lying.

Since I don't feel like, nor do I have the time to be his psychiatrist because of Ginny's
wedding next month and I'm too busy being hers. I've decided not to press the issue. He's still
the same Draco Malfoy. He still kisses the same, he still dotes on Lizzie the same, he still
makes fun of Ron the same, but there's something different about him.

It looks like he has a lot on his mind. I wish he'd tell me, maybe I can help, but I've decided
not to push it or him because I detect he doesn't need the added pressure and he needs time to
work through whatever is on his mind at his own rate. He's gone back to work after his
paternity leave and even though Draco is a bit of a workaholic, I think he misses being here.
He talks about how boring his day was, when he talks at all, and he's always telling Lizzie
that he misses her. He says the same thing to me when he calls me between meetings and I
stare at the phone with wide eyes, he's still definitely not one to express himself so freely.

Lizzie's laughs break into my thoughts.

She's grown so much this month and tomorrow she'll be six months old.

Everyday, Lizzie looks more and more like Draco. Her blonde hair is growing, just a bit and
it's a tad darker than Draco's and it's starting to curl, so I've been given some hope. She's
really strong, despite the fact that she's so much smaller than a normal baby her age, but
according to doctors, she's developing faster than they expected.

When I tell them she doesn't like to be held by strangers, they look at me strangely and tell
me she shouldn't be able to tell the difference at her age. I just look at them blankly and say,
"Well, she can."

She wiggles around a lot, is a master at rolling over and does so frequently with Ron in the
living room, and loves being upright. I've taken to putting her in the swing and she likes it a
lot.

I can't wait until tomorrow to weigh her. It's the only time I can distract her with her toes.

She's full on babbling when I carry her into the living room to sit her in the swing that's
facing the kitchen so she can watch me clean up. I talk to her while I clean the kitchen, tell
her what I'm doing and why, and she babbles back. Back and forth we go, and I'm sure she
doesn't understand me, but I'm trying to promote language and build our relationship. Ginny
walks in and looks humorous, "Why are you explaining the purpose of cleaning to a baby?"

Rolling my eyes, explaining, "I'm talking to her. Lizzie is learning language in the context of
experience. Babies learn receptive language skills before they learn expressive language
skills. She may not understand me at this exact moment, but she will understand what I'm
saying to her long before she's able to speak. When babies grow in a language-rich
environment, they naturally learn to speak. And because I regularly talk to her and listen to
her, she'll readily learn language…isn't that right, Liz?"

Her face is blank and Lizzie babbles a response.

Ginny looks at Lizzie, Lizzie looks at Ginny then at me, and Ginny finally says, "You've been
reading too many baby books, Hermione."

Lizzie starts laughing.

I do too.

Ginny starts the swing and Lizzie is content.

She sits at the table and looks at me, "Have you talked to Draco?"

"Not since he called this afternoon for lunch a lunch meeting."

"Did he ever tell you what's wrong?"

"Nope and I'm not going to press it."

Without another word, Ginny gets up and picks up Lizzie to go play with blocks in the
nursery and I finish cleaning the kitchen, lost in thoughts.

Like Draco, I've had a lot on my mind as well. For the first time since the attack, I allow my
thoughts to shift to Nott.

They denied his attempt to reduce his sentence, but accepted his insanity plea. They're
sending him to a prison in the States. No one deserves it more than he does. He almost made
me miss out on my daughter's life, and he almost made history repeat itself. I still wonder
what it's going to be like for me when I go back to work. How will people treat me? Will
being there bring back memories? I don't know, Merlin, I hope not, but only time will tell,
right?
 Finished with my cleaning, I put down the dish towel and turn around and there is Draco,
sitting on the couch, quiet.

"How long have you been here?" I ask, standing in front of him.

Draco looks up, "Not long."

I hold my hand out, "It's a nice night, come sit with me outside."

His hand slides into mine, and stands up, looking around, "Where's Lizzie?"

"With Ginny, playing blocks," I lead him outside on the patio.

It really is a nice night. It's warm, the sun has just finished setting and the sky is purple. I
can't see any stars, not even the brightest ones, but it's still too early for all that.

We stand together, leaning on the rod iron railing of the patio, just staring out into the
distance. No words are exchanged between us and it's peaceful like this, with the wind
blowing, the trees swaying, the ambiance of the evening, and the constant noise from the city
I've become accustomed to and thus tuned out.

"How has your day been?" I ask, breaking the silence.

"Long…yours?"

"Pretty good.

Another silence falls between us, but Draco breaks it rather quickly, "I've had a lot on my
mind lately and I…thank you for not pressing."

"You're welcome."

I don't look at him; I just stare out into the darkening sky. I hear him shift, but I think nothing
of it. Draco sighs, pushes off the railing, restless as ever. I turn and look at him, concerned,
and I'm instantly swept into his eyes. His hands are at his side and he's clenching something
in one of them. I squint to see, but he moves his hand behind his back.

"Hermione," he speaks. Draco is nervous as hell and I'm confused.

"Are you al—"

Draco holds out a little black box in his hand, it's open and there's a diamond ring staring at
me, "Marry me."

The box makes a snapping noise when I shut it, "No."

Chapter End Notes

2009 Author's Note: Wow, thanks for the spectacular reviews. I'm glad the scene
touched you as it did me. The birth was supposed to be a funny affair, but then I got to
writing on this chapter and I figured there had to be a last stand with Nott...and this his
how the attack was born. When I make someone a villain, I do go all out. I spent like
two days writing that scene alone. It was brutal because I could picture it in my head and
it was a lot more violent than that, but my cousin who read it was in full-fledged tears so
I cut the more gruesome parts out. On to a lighter note, Lizzie is here! Yay! There are
maybe three or four more chapters left. I'm not totally sure and I haven't planned them
yet, but I'm pushing for four, we have a lot of holes to close up: Hermione's dad, Pansy's
classy baby shower, Ginny and Harry's wedding, confrontations, the proposal between
Draco and Hermione, and some other things. I made the beginning of this chapter a little
scattered because as a new mum, Hermione's mind is slightly scattered.

And now on to the chapter. I hope you all enjoy it and smile as much as I did when I re-
read the parts about Lizzie.
 Fourteen
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Part One: Breath

It's so quiet.

So very silent and still, enough that I can hear, and not just feel the warm summer breeze
fluttering by is.

His hand clenches the shut box and it disappears behind his back once again. I watch in edgy
and nervous anticipation as Draco's tongue darts out to lick his lips, slightly. He's tense, his
face is unreadable, and he hasn't moved. I know he's going to get mad, I just know it, and so
in the midst of this silence, I brace myself for the outburst of a lifetime.

It's going to make the night in front of the fireplace look like a three-year-old temper tantrum.

Mentally, I gather all my reasons for refusing him: we haven't been together long enough, the
fact that us getting married may distract us from Lizzie with all the planning and brouhaha
that surrounds a wedding, and that me going back to work will distract me further. I have to
get used to being a working mum. I don't think I'm ready to be a working mum and a wife.
I'll add the fact that we're probably not ready for such a commitment and it's really not all that
logical for us to get married right now. Oh, and let's not leave out the fact that I'm frightened
out of my wits about this.

So I gather my nerves and every ounce of will, and everything else because I'm going to need
it all to get through this.

Draco slips the box back into his pocket and speaks for the first time in a very slow voice,
"All right."

"All right?" I repeat, confusion written all over my face and voice.

He nods his head slowly at the statement, "Yes."

My face scrunches up. I mean, really scrunches up, like I ate a bad lemon.

Quick, someone call the Daily Prophet, Draco Malfoy just stumped Hermione Granger with
one word. Seriously, I don't know why I didn't expect this. I mean, he did respond to my
pregnancy with a, "That sounds like a personal problem," Why shouldn't he react to a refusal
with an "all right"? I'm stunned. So stunned I have to find out why this is so bloody okay
with him, "It's all right?"

"It's all right," he echoes listlessly…and then to top off the surprises, he smirks. He bloody
smirks!
Not the usual Draco Malfoy smirk, not the "you're being ridiculous, Hermione Granger"
smirk. I've seen that smirk. This is nothing like those. It's just a smirk. I have no idea what
kind of emotions are beneath it and since I don't have a clue, it…well, it scares the living shit
out of me, to be honest. My heart feels like it's going to thump right out of my chest and land
on the floor between us.

What kind of reaction is this?

Is he insane?

I don't know but this is insane.

He is insane.

Because Draco Malfoy has lost all his marbles and has gone insane, it's making me insane.

An insane Hermione Granger is never a good thing.

My mouth opens. Shuts. Opens again. Shuts again. Opens once more.

"What?" I ask slowly and when he stands there with that blank look on his face, I feel the
urge to rant building in me and I proceed to question, "It's all right?" I let the urge to rant
saturate me through and through, "How in the hell is it all right? I don't understand how this
is all right with you! Don't you want to scream at me? Holler? Storm out of here with your
cloak billowing in the wind? Do something, Draco, don't just stand there and say, "all right"
and smirk at me. This is not alrl ight and you know it!"

Draco's eyebrow raises in question, confusion, and possibly amazement.

He opens his mouth to say something, but then it shuts instantly.

I realize we're back to where we used to be, with me ranting and raving like I'm insane and
him sitting there calmly.

And it doesn't bother me because I need to know why this is alright with him.

"I knew it!" I point, before continuing my tirade, pointing at him, "I knew this isn't all right. I
know that you know that I know that this is not!" My hands go up an down as I continue to
rave, "It's just not logical, this doesn't make any sense, how are you all right and I'm the one
ranting? This is not all right, Draco, just admit it."

"Okay," he speaks hesitantly, "Perhaps it's not as okay as I claim."

My voice raises an octave and a half, "Perhaps? Are you—perhaps? What the he—perhaps!"

His hands clasp around the finger that I've been unknowingly digging into my skin and he
laces our fingers together, still calm as hell, "Has anyone ever told you that you're completely
mental?"
I glare and ignore him, demanding, "Don't change the subject, Draco 'I-don't-have-a-bloody-
middle-name' Malfoy. Just admit it!" I remove my hand from his and start pacing.

Of course, Draco doesn't. He just stands there, watching me, his eyes trailing me as I continue
to pace back and forth. I swear he's trying to fight back a smirk and possibly a laugh at the
fact that I've lost my cool as well as my mind.

"And stop acting all bloody serene! That's Luna's thing!" I cry out for good measure before I
fold my arms and huff.

The silence lasts about a minute, "Are you done?" Draco asks calmly.

He's calm? This is outrageous and it doesn't make any sense. I told him no. He's supposed to
be screaming because I told him no. When the hell did the roles switch? I drop my folded
arms and look out at the sky that's supposed to be calm me down, but isn't working. "You're
supposed to be the upset one," I tell him, "You could at least pretend to be a little
heartbroken, you know."

"Who the hell says I'm not?" he challenges with the fire I'm used to seeing with an angry
Draco. There we go.

I know it's immature behavior on my part, but I egg him on, sitting on one of the four black
rod iron chairs on the antique patio table set Anne gave to me when Ginny and I moved into
our first flat together, "I mean…you're supposed to do something Draco."

He sits down on the chair closest to me so we're even and smirks…the same stupid ass smirk
from before, "I am, but anything dramatic is not really my style."

I know it's not his style. I don't even know why I said it. I don't even know why I'm so upset
with his ridiculous response. If someone could get in my mind and listen to my thoughts they
would probably deem me crazy and give Draco custody of Lizzie. "I know, but accepting
something as is isn't your style either. It's not very logical for you to be this calm."

"To be honest, I bought the ring four months ago, right before Lizzie was born. I had every
intention on proposing then, but then the attack happened and then it was all about Lizzie so I
waited. I've been working on this for the last two weeks—"

I thump myself in the head, "So that's what's been wrong with you."

"Yes," he replies with a casual wave of his hand, "I just convinced myself that you'd say no
anyway."

"You shouldn't have to do that. You shouldn't have to hope for the worst when it comes to
me."

"I don't," Draco reaches over and brushes the hair behind my ear thoughtfully and continues,
"I just know how you are. We haven't been together for a long time, Lizzie is growing right
before our eyes and we have to focus our attention on her, and soon enough, you'll be back at
work and you have to get used to being a working mum and it's going to be hard enough
without tacking on the wife aspect of it, you think we're not ready for such a serious
commitment…and I'm sure you're scared out of your barmy, logic-obsessed mind. I'm sure
you've thought of all that. Oh, and we're young."

My eyes widen out of my sockets, wider and wider with each word he speaks until I'm sure
they're about to fall out and roll across the patio.

Practicing Legilimency on me when I'm sleeping?

Surely he can't know all this without reading my mind. That's just absurd, "How…do you
know all this?"

"I've thought of the same thing…well, from my point of view as a father."

Of course, I just stare at him hard for a moment, "And you still came to the conclusion that
we should get married?"

"Yes."

"We still don't have a plan."

"Have we ever had one before?"

"Not particularly."

"We did try once, but I don't think plans work for us…do you think that we work?"

"Yes, but I don't know how sometimes, to be honest."

"All right…"

"Draco," I warn with a glare.

He smiles. It's the second time I've seen him smile since we were children at war with each
other. It's a kind of nervous smile. Actually, now that I think about it, it's more than nervous.
And then he stops smiling as quickly as he started, his eyes pierce right into me with this
expectant look Lizzie gets when she's starting to get hungry. The look on Draco makes him
look serious and solemn at the same time.

He pulls out the ring, opens the box, and sits it on the rod iron table, "Do you trust me,
Hermione?"

My eyes rest on the ring before me. It's simple: a round cut diamond and while it's not large,
I've never seen a diamond with such clarity. It looks new. My eyes then meet his gaze wearily
when he asks that question.

I look at him, "Do I trust you?" I echo, voice and fingers trembling.

Frustration is clear in his voice, "Don't make this complicated, Hermione. It's an easy
question. Do you trust me?"
"Implicitly."

He adjusts in his seat, pleased with my answer, "Do you trust me when I say that I think we're
ready for this commitment and getting married will not distract us from the things that are
important to the both of us?"

"Yes."

"And do you trust me when I say that we are going to be enormously happy together, despite
the fact that we fight like children and despite the fact that we're both stubborn and petulant
people who are prone to having temper tantrums, outbursts, and fits of rage? Do you trust me
when I say that?"

Just a bit hesitant, but honest when I reply with a small, "Yes."

I glance at the ring again. It taunts me.

"Marriage, Draco, is very serious—"

He chuckles, "So I've been told."

"I don't believe in divorce."

Draco wipes the tear that threatens to fall from my eyes, "It's nice to know we agree on
something else. That brings our grand total up to nine things we agree on. That has to be a
record of some sort."

I stare at him like he's gone mad. Why is he trying to be funny? This is not a time to be funny
or make stupid little jokes. "This is insane."

He merely shrugs, "True."

"Do you think at twenty-two we're ready for that?"

For a moment, he stares at me evenly. "Do you think I'd be on my knee if I didn't think we
were?"

Oh, fuck. I don't even know what to say. Actually, scratch that. I do. The first time he asked,
my mind processed it all as unbelievable, impossible, and damn confusing. I just knew Draco
Malfoy wasn't shoving a ring in my face and asking me to spend the rest of our lives together.
I didn't expect it until Lizzie turned maybe five…but now, after the initial panic, now it's
processing definite comprehension to the question and what it means.

"You're talking about forever…with me, Draco," I speak cautiously, still trying to get over the
fact that this is really happening, "You said so yourself, I'm completely mental…not to
mention, I'm a recovering control freak. Do you really want to spend forever with me?"

The smirk grows into a small smile, "Of course, it's going to be entertaining."

I growl, "I'm being serious. Forever is a long time."

He smirks and kisses my hand I didn't realise was resting on his, "Not really, I don't think…
not for us."

"Yeah, it's going to take forever for us to get our shit together."

Draco chuckles, "I happen to think we're perfect together, as we are. There aren't two people
better matched than us, at least that's what Anne said when I asked her permission."

I blink a couple of times, "You asked Anne?"

"At the baby shower…I asked Ginny, Pansy, and Luna too later on. Ginny cried, so I took
that as her yes."

Raises an eyebrow to this bit of news, those friends of mine didn't even throw a hint my
way…except Ginny's incessant questioning. They could've let me know something, I mean,
really. I could've been more prepared for this, "You did?"

He nods and kisses my hand again, staring straight into my eyes, "Hermione," Draco's voice
is hoarse as he leans over, just enough to capture my lips in a gentle kiss that makes my head
spin, "Marry me," he whispers against my lips.

I lift my gaze up, searching his eyes.

This is crazy. He is crazy. I am crazy. But I think he's right. I think we can do this, despite
everything we've been through, despite the fights, the slapping, the tantrums, the sullenness
on his part and the craziness of mine…and despite the fact that I'm crazy scared. But I think
that with his charm and my brains, we'll figure out some bloody potion or some method to
alleviate me of my fears and him of his…sudden strangeness. I pick the ring out the box and
hold it in my hand.

I take a deep breath, stare in to his eyes, and answer softly, "Alright."

Part Two: Work

July 13th

It all starts this morning with this unfamiliar cry from Lizzie that makes me tear my bedroom
apart in search for those earplugs Pansy bought during the "four days of hell".

Let me just say that I'm not being dramatic in any way when I say that I think she's going to
tear down the infrastructure of the flat with this wail in particular. Nobody is home, which is
lucky on their part and bad on mine. Anne isn't picking up her phone. Draco is in a meeting…
Blaise too. Ron and Ginny are at practice. Harry is at work. Pansy is checking on her mum.
For the first time as a mum, I feel utterly helpless…but never fear; they don't call me the
brightest witch of my day for nothing.

So, I spend the next hour of my life trying to placate her and figure out what's wrong.

Seriously…an hour…to be exact, I spend sixty-two minutes trying to appease Lizzie.

I try to play blocks with her and I swear she gives me a Draco Malfoy glare, one that says,
"How dare you insinuate that I want to play with silly little blocks in my condition," and then
she proceeds to scream louder. I sing songs to her, which she usually likes and tries to
emulate in her own way. Not today. All attempts at singing are drowned out by screaming. I
try to feed her and she gums down on my nipple, which promptly ends the breastfeeding
session quickly. Gumming down is not totally out of the norm; it only reminds me why I use
the pump in the first place. It has all the benefits of breastfeeding, without the gumming.

I check her nappy and put on a fresh one…which almost doesn't happen, because of her
incessant need to wiggle and scream.

I do everything I can think of.

And then I throw caution to the wind and let her suck on my finger…and she bites me!

Okay, so it doesn't hurt, it just startles me because she doesn't bite outside of breastfeeding,
but she starts gnawing on my finger like crazy and it stops the crying.

Mrs. Weasley, who I owled in a panic, comes into the nursery only to coo in an excited voice,
clapping her hands, "Looks like Lizzie's started teething!"

I look at her crazy, "What? She's six months old…isn't that early?"

"Nope, right on time. Has she been drooling more than usual lately?"

"Draco compared her to Fang just the other night." I chuckle at the memory.

Mrs. Weasley does too, "Has she been grinding her gums together a lot?"

I think about for a moment, "Yeah, she did that last night."

"It sounds like she's teething alright…you should probably get her this numbing potion, dip
your finger in it and rub it on her gums, it's harmless and helps with the pain…oh and a
teething ring. Put a cooling charm on it, it'll help too."

So I do what any young mother would do…I dress the temperamental Lizzie up, brush her
blonde hair, put some socks on her little feet, leave a message with Draco's secretary telling
him about what transpired this morning, and I take her out to Diagon Alley where I proceed
to buy at least half a year's worth of numbing potion and to Muggle London where I proceed
to purchase at least six teething rings, all different, and all these soft toys she can chew on.

When I stop by Draco's job because he wants to see us and go to lunch, I'm holding two
brown bags of toys in one hand and Lizzie in the other, he asks me, "Don't you think you
went just a bit overboard with the scented teething ring?"

Actually, I don't think so, but I think he already knows that.

Lunch is good. Lizzie is happy to see her father, I detect from his affectionate smiles that he's
happy to see her too. From his kiss that temporarily makes me forget my name, I deduce he's
happy to see me as well. It's actually nice being out, just the three of us, having a normal
family lunch in a Muggle restaurant. Family…wow, we're a family. It's amazing that I've
never really thought of that until right now. All we need is a white picket fence -which Draco
will never allow-and dog named Grover.

"Maybe I'll just skip the rest of my meetings and come with you to check out the house,"
Draco says absently after the waitress walks off with our orders. He's just noticed Lizzie's "I
love my daddy" bib she's currently wearing and smirks, but says nothing on the matter.

"I wouldn't complain, you've been awfully busy these days, you're up before I am and you get
back right before Lizzie goes to sleep…working on another merger?"

He smirks at the baby staring up at him, "Something along those lines…"

My brow nearly touches my hairline in suspicion, but I move on, "Blaise was telling me that
you all are having an office party today."

Draco grunts, "All the more reason to leave early."

"True," I smile and proceed with sarcasm dripping off my words, "But it's very unlike Draco
Malfoy to miss a party."

He smirks.

Lizzie, who is better now with a little numbing potion, attracts a lot of attention because she's
so cute and talkative, but charming waitresses and other customers is a bit tiring for her and
she ends up falling asleep halfway through, in her daddy's arms, after her bottle and a little
more numbing potion on her aching gums. After paying, he rests her back in the stroller and I
kiss him softly outside the restaurant. Draco doesn't look happy to go back to work and looks
slightly glum to see us go, but I'm sure it's because he hates these office parties.

I arrive at the house to find that it looks beautiful. As I'm walking to the door, one of the
neighbors walks by, pushing a stroller, and introduces herself as Helen and her one-year-old
son, Tyler to me and Lizzie who is fresh awake from her nap and looking bleary-eyed. She
lives two doors down from us and has been trying to meet us since we started construction on
the house.

She gasps when I tell her how old I am and tells me, "I knew you looked young, but I didn't
think you were as young as you really are." Helen is a sweet Muggle, who spends her time
running after kids and is thrilled to have adult conversation…about kids.

I like her.

"Oh, she's just too adorable, what's her name?"

"Elizabeth."

She smiles like she's seeing the most precious sight in the world, "I've always wanted a little
girl. I've got four boys: 10, 8, 5, and 1…and don't get me wrong, I love them all, but I've
always wanted a little girl."
Four boys? She has four boys? Is she insane? Sweet Merlin. I whistle under my breath,
"Wow, that's a lot of boys."

"Is she your only child?"

Smiles adoringly at Lizzie, "Yes, she's my one and only."

Helen smiles as well. "Do you work?"

"Yes, I'm a—" I pause and try to think of something to replace healer with, "Just got out of
PA school and I work for the hospital just up the street. I started college at fifteen." There,
that sounds good, especially that last part. I had to add that because her brows furrowed when
I said PA school. Now she won't have to call me doctor and it's believable. Helen nods
understandingly, "Do you?"

"No, I take care of the kids, which keeps me busy enough."

"I can imagine. Four boys…I applaud you."

"Well, what does your," discreetly, she glances at my hand, but I see her, "fiancé do?"

The white lie just rolls off my tongue, "He works for a bank…your husband?"

"He's an architect…when are you all moving in?"

I reply, excited, "Two and a half weeks."

Helen smiles, "Well, I'll definitely be seeing you again, Hermione. You and your fiancé and
your adorable baby girl should definitely come by for dinner once you're all settled."

I smile genuinely, "I'd like that."

We exchange goodbyes and she walks on with her son.

I walk into the house with a smile on my face, greeting a few of the workers left putting the
finishing touches on the house.

The foyer is stunning. Mahogany, polished floors are a contrast to the cream walls. The
chandelier just enhances the beauty of the room. I walk straight back and take in the sitting
area. It's plain, the walls are a vibrant red, but with a few pictures on the wall and some
furniture and a television, it's going to be just perfect.

Much to Draco's slight annoyance, the kitchen is a pale yellow because it is the brightest
room in the house, next to the family room. This side of the house catches a lot of light. I step
out onto the finished and stained patio and I look out at the sizable backyard where in a few
short years, Lizzie will be out there, running around, climbing the few trees, as disconcerting
it is, it's creeping up on us. Lizzie is six months old. Half a year old…Merlin, these months
have gone by fast.

Upstairs is wonderful.
We decided to convert the bonus room into a library; okay, that was more of my decision.
Draco just rolls his eyes of course and mutters something about me being such a bookworm,
but the next day, bookshelves are being set up.

Next stop: the nursery. It's been painted the same color as we did the flat and I decided white
walls of the bedroom suit it perfectly because of the copious amount of lighting. It makes the
room very calming.

"Lizzie, you like your new house?"

Of course, she babbles some response and sticks her finger in her mouth.

Next week, Draco and I are going out and purchasing all the furniture…at one time. He's not
the shopping type, but I've convinced him we do need furniture and those need trump the
need for him to stay out of the furniture store.

Lizzie is babbling more than ever by the time we get back home later on this afternoon.

With a wiggling baby in one arm and the bags from our shopping, it's a fight to get the front
door open, but I manage.

All is silent and I think no one is home until I hear a loud and angry-sounding Ginny Weasley
yell, "Fine then, since you want to be such a prick, Harry—I wouldn't marry you if you were
the last man on Earth!"

Excuse me?

I sit the bag down, pull a teething ring out for Lizzie to chew on because I'm thinking this is
going to take a while to clear up, and adjust the wiggler on my hip again before making a
grand entrance. Pansy and Ron are sitting on the floor in front of the armchair, sitting in
Indian-style and watching helplessly as the war rages in the kitchen. Ginny and Harry, who
represents both sides of the war, are standing on either side of the kitchen table, both red-
faced and angry. His arms are folded and she's been crying.

"What's going on here?" I speak slowly.

Pansy gets up, happy to see a fresh face and takes Lizzie, whispering, "Good luck with this
lot," before she and Ron scatter together to the nursery with Lizzie, probably to play "let's roll
over"…which is currently Lizzie's favorite game.

When Draco plays it with her-Hilarious.

Ginny bursts into tears, "We were walking together in Diagon Alley and w-we ran into
Anthony Goldstein, you remember, I dated him while Harry and I were on that break, right?"

I nod my head slowly, wondering just what she's getting at.

"Well, he tells Harry, right in front of me, that we slept together, which is a total lie!"

Harry rolls his eyes, "Why would he lie about something like that?"
From this point on, I decide to keep my mouth shut and watch the tennis match.

"Oh, I don't know Harry," Ginny starts sarcastically, "I dropped him like a bad habit right
before we got engaged. Maybe he's trying to piss you off and make you consider canceling
the wedding…which he did a right fine job of doing!"

"Oh, please, Ginny he had a date that it happened on!"

"He had a bunch to choose from! Hermione was pregnant when we got engaged. We'd been
apart for over six months! Are you really this stupid and gullible?"

"You're lying to me."

Ginny is almost pleading with him, "I'm not."

And Harry is stubborn. "Yes you are!"

"I just can't believe you'd take his word over mine! I thought we loved each other! I thought
we had trust, if I did it Harry I would be woman enough to tell you, but I didn't! I didn't do
anything with him! I never even considered it! I loved you, Harry, always have!"

"Well, I never thought that my fiancé would be sleeping around—"

"I was not sleeping around! I was just dating! I didn't even kiss any of them, except on the
cheek! There was no sleeping around! And we weren't even engaged! We weren't even
together!"

"You're right, we weren't together, but I didn't sleep with anyone!"

"Neither did I, Harry!"

"Then how does he know about the freckles on your back?"

Ginny takes a breath. A deep one. It's the breath almost identical to the one I take right before
I try and throttle Draco for whatever reason, "You can't be—if I any type of shirt that shows
it, anyone can see the freckles on my back, you dolt!" she makes a fist as her head whirls in
my direction, "Hermione, please talk some sense into him before I do a tap dance on his
face!"

I choose my words wisely because I really hate being in the middle of two fighting friends,
but this matter will never be resolved if I don't step in, "Harry, Ginny only went out with him
one time—"

Of course, Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, does not let me finish, "You're just taking up for
her!"

Ginny slams her hand onto the table and releases a frustrated groan that almost turns into a
full-fledged scream, like one of those cathartic screams therapists in movies tell their patients
to do. She's pulling the ends of her hair in frustration as she screams and I think my best
friend has gone off the deep end, again.
But her voice is very calm when she speaks, "I am sick of this shit, Harry. Call off the
wedding, shred the invitations, cancel the catering, return the dress, I don't give a shit. I'm
through fighting with someone who doesn't make sense. If you want to listen to everyone
else, if you want to trust everyone else over me, we shouldn't be getting married anyway."

And she does the hardest thing she's ever had to do in twenty years of life.

She walks away from Harry Potter…without hitting him or doing a Riverdance on his
glasses.

Her bedroom door shuts and moments later, I hear and see Pansy sneak into the room.

She makes a signal, letting me know Ron is in there with Lizzie…and I'm still not sure if
that's a good thing or a bad thing. Last time Lizzie was alone with Ron he gave her a sugar
quill and I nearly flipped out. Before I could scream, Draco mutters a quick "silencio" and I
launched into a silent tirade while Ron gave Draco a thankful look. He merely shrugged.

Enough about that, I have a relationship to fix. I turn to one of my oldest and dearest friends,
"Harry."

"What?" He snarls…snarls…did he transfer back to Fifth Year when he was being possessed
by Voldemort?

"Leave the snarling to Draco, he does it so much better, you just sound constipated…" he
looks up at me, a bit humored, and I see that as permission to continue. "I want you to listen
to me…would I ever lie to you?"

His answer is automatic, "Of course not."

"I'm telling you the truth. I don't think this has a thing to do with Anthony and whether or
whether not Ginny had sex with him, but we'll get back to that in a moment."

Harry just stares at me with this flabbergasted look that says, "Do you know everything?" No,
I don't. Harry, but I will one day. That's my quest.

"Let's start off at the fact that she didn't sleep with him. Proof: they only went out once, it was
for lunch…the day of my accident, and she left him to come to me and she spent the rest of
that night with me. And then we spent the rest of the time plotting on how I was going to tell
Draco I was keeping the baby…there is no way she could've slept with him."

Color drains from Harry's face. "Why didn't she tell me?"

"I'm sure she tried to, but you were being a stubborn, daft git who is not too keen on
listening," I sit down and cross my legs, "Did you honestly think for a second that Ginny
would—"

"He was right there. Telling me to my face—"

"More like lying to your face," I snort, "Ginny has been in love with you since she was ten-
years-old and yes, Harry, there have been others in her life, but you have her heart. What you
accused her of is horrible and I'm disappointed in you, but you need to tell me what else is
going on."

Harry plops down in a chair and drops his head in his hands, "God, 'Mione…I was starting to
get cold feet and he said that and I just flipped. I just lost it and Apparated here and started
screaming at her."

"So you had cold feet, Ginny does too…all someone has to do is say the word wedding and
she turns this unbelievable shade of green. She's nervous, but you don't see her shouting at
you, accusing you of sleeping with Cho Chang. We are best friends, Harry, but she is your
fiancée and you should be as open with her about your feelings as you are with me. You are
supposed to trust her like you trust me. You're supposed to be there for each other, lean on
each other when one of you is feeling weak; you're not supposed to push her away because
you have cold feet. If that's how it's going to be then maybe you shouldn't get married," he
looks at me, wide-eyed from my words, "But," I pick up, ignoring his looks, "If you are
willing to swallow your pride, go after her, admit your faults, confide your fears…then
maybe you two have a shot in—"

Harry gets up and apparates into Ginny's room before I can finish. I'm surprised that she
didn't put wards up...she must be in a forgiving mood.

Pansy comes sneaking out a few minutes later and gives me one thumb to the side.

Well at least it's not thumbs down. That means they're talking at least…or Harry's groveling.

I shake my head, "Those crazy kids."

A somewhat humored voice speaks up after a moment of silence. "Do you talk to yourself all
the time? If so, Hermione, I may be forced to reconsider my proposal."

Ignoring his comment with a roll of my eyes, my head whirls around and I smile at Draco,
who still hasn't kicked his habit of looking like a crypt-keeper, "And exactly how long have
you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know that Potter and Ginny are fighting and you still talk to yourself," he
evenly replies with a smirk as he approaches the table. I stand to greet him and he wraps his
arms around me, pulling me close but not too. I look him in the eyes after he presses his lips
to my forehead. Something is a bit different about him and I'm determined to figure him out.

"Ha, ha, Draco," I roll my eyes sarcastically, "Real funny, you should be a comedian."

"I should."

With a quick glance to the clock on the wall behind his head, I smile, "You're home four
hours early."

Shrugs, but doesn't let me go, "Decided to start my retirement a bit early."

I stick my fingers in my ears because I don't think I've heard him correctly, "Umm…
retirement?"
He smirks, "Yes. I decided to retire."

Blink. Blink. Double blink. Triple blink. Quad—

Another stupid smirk, "Is there something wrong with your eyes? You seem to have a
blinking problem."

I'm just going to ignore that. Slowly, I find my voice that was lost, "And you were going to
tell me…when?"

Draco pastes an innocent look on his face that reminds me of Lizzie right before she does
something Slytherin—like dropping a bomb of spit on Dean's forehead or that time she peed
on Ron during a standard nappy change—and shrugs, "Surprise?"

I stare at him for a moment, confused by his…well, everything.

Again, I have to find my voice that likes to run away from me, "Surprise? I hate surprises,
thought you knew that…retirement?"

"It's only partial; consider it a working retirement…wait a second, Blaise didn't tell you?" his
eyebrow cocks, "He tells you every bloody thing else I don't want you to know and he didn't
tell you this? Interesting…my best friend is losing his touch. I wonder…" he pretends to rub
his chin pensively.

Of course, I just stare at Draco Malfoy like he's gone completely nutters.

His actions as of late are really making me question my fiancé's sanity…and whether he had
any of it to begin with. With the proposal that he apparently spent two weeks on…for
Merlin's sake, how hard is it to say "marry me"…well about as hard for me to say yes, so I
suppose I can't fault him there. But this whole deal with this retirement…what in the hell?
Draco Malfoy is and always will be a workaholic. Workaholics don't retire at twenty-two.

Normal people don't retire at twenty-two, but I can safely say Draco isn't normal and that, my
friends, is his charm.

Still, despite his arms still being around me, my hands fly to my hips. "Of course he didn't t
—" My mind wanders back to that day of our heart-to-heart right before Lizzie was born. He
was trying to tell me something about Draco and work, but we were interrupted by Pansy and
Luna. Perhaps he was trying to tell me then.

"Well, as shocked as I am that my blabbermouth best friend didn't blab to you, I have to
admit, telling you myself is more rewarding than I originally thought…your face is
priceless."

"You could've at least talked to me about it…I just saw you four hours ago at lunch. You
could've told me then."

He shrugged again. "Yes, I could've, but you would've asked me fifty million questions about
it and then tried to talk me out of it when my mind was clearly made up on the matter. I
would've gotten mad and snapped, you would've snapped back and we would've had a repeat
of that day in the coffee shop, only with a baby this time, and I like not going back to the
office with a bruise on my face, thank you very much. Had enough questions the last time
around."

Damn, he's right…about everything. Does he honestly know me this well?

"Besides," Draco presses on, "I still have to go in a twice a week for board meetings because
I'm still on the board of trustees and I'm still the owner, just a co-owner now."

"Well, who's running everything now?"

"Blaise…who else would I trust my company to? He bought forty-nine percent of the
company from me, he likes the job more than I do, and we still have to meet together to work
on plans for the company, once a week, over dinner, at home. We hired a new person to do
Blaise's old job and training him is what's been keeping me away."

Nice to know, "But why—"

Draco brushes my hair off my shoulder and puts his hand back around me, "To be honest, I
don't have a reason to work anymore. The company is uncorrupted and I'm raking in millions
of galleons, even in my sleep. I confess the paternity leave spoiled me, but I don't want some
Muggle daycare raising my daughter when you go back to work, I'd rather do it myself,"
There is a pause because I think he's letting it all sink in with me…and then he shrugs, "And
there's a bunch of other stuff I want to do. Invent a new potion, do some traveling, learn a
new language, maybe work on giving Lizzie a few more brothers and sisters—" Draco
wiggles his eyebrow.

"A few more…" I look at him hard for a second, "Exactly how many children do you want?"

He looks away, "A few."

I grab his chin gently and force him to look at me, "What's a few, Draco?"

Pauses and mumbles, "Like three or four…more like four."

My eyes nearly pop out their sockets, "Three or four children…you're barmy in the head,
Draco, if you think I'm having four kids! One is ideal. Two is okay. Three I'd consider. Four
is out of the question." I shudder at the thought of stretch marks and the weight gain and the
heartburn and the cravings and the morning sickness and the crying/rage intervals.

Times four? No thank you.

He rolls his eyes and speaks in a very silky voice, "Whatever you say."

I huff, "Yes it—"

I'm silenced with a kiss.

Merlin, I'll never be used to this.

Chapter End Notes

2009 Ina A/N: I spared everyone the heartbreaking cliffhanger in chapter 12, right? I
thought I did a good thing...I've never seen so many CAPS in my life. It was absolutely
hilarious reading everyone's reviews, I've never laughed so hard at reviews. I felt a
twinge of guilt, only for a second and then I remembered that I love cliffhangers

Current Ina: Damn still a chaos gremlin

 Fifteen

Part One" Truly, Madly, Deeply

August 17 th

Ginny Weasley is fading right before my eyes.

She's becoming Ginny Potter and I have tears in my eyes…

Minister Shacklebot starts the ceremony.

And I'll ignore the fact that I've had tears in my eyes since this morning. Seriously, every time
Draco has seen me he's handed me a tissue…and I've seen him quite frequently this morning,
's just say that with him making sure everything's going well with the house elves (who are
"catering" the reception) and making sure the decorators he hired put the decorations up
correctly and me being the perfectionist I am, we see each other on quite a few occasions.
Draco always has Lizzie, who still favors him more and more with each passing day much to
my consternation, in his arms. He's fiercely protective of the little wiggler and even when she
falls asleep, he still carries her around. It's adorable that she clutches to his robes so tightly so
I don't feel too annoyed.

She's definitely going to be her father's daughter, for sure…

"…a good and balanced relationship is one in which neither person is overpowered nor
absorbed by the other, one in which neither person is possessive of the other, one in which
both give their love freely and without jealousy. Marriage, ideally, is a sharing of
responsibilities, hopes, and dreams. It takes a special effort to grow together, survive hard
times, and be loving and unselfish and these two have done just that…"

I smile because Shacklebot's words sound so similar to the ones I said to Ginny last night.

She looks back at me and we exchange soft smiles.

Last night, the four of us slept in another wing of the Malfoy manor and just talked about
everything we could think of; giggling, playing games, telling secrets, and our favorite, the
"If" game.

I'll be the first to confess that I did sneak into Draco's room to snog him until he couldn't
think straight in the middle of the night. Can't help myself, really, but what makes the site
simply adorable is Lizzie sleeping on the pillow next to him, pacifier in mouth. It's the first
time we haven't slept in the same bed since we the row about my dad and I think me sleeping
with him every night has him spoiled.

As Harry and Ginny exchange pre-written vows (a last minute decision stemmed from the
major fight that almost ended their relationship) in the beautifully decorated maroon and
cream oasis garden of the Malfoy manor. Ginny is a vision in ivory and I really think Harry
got a bit teary-eyed when he saw her come down the aisle, though he'll never admit it. But its
okay, he looks wonderful in black robes. Luna, Pansy, and I stand faithfully on Ginny's side,
all of us in dresses and holding cream and maroon rose bouquets. Ron, Neville, and George
are behind Harry. During their vows, I lean over at just the exact time and exchange smiles
with Ron. I'm maid of Honor and he's the best man and neither of us could be happier about
this union that's been long in the making.

"These rings are blessed as a symbol of your union as man and wife. As often as either of you
look upon these rings, may you not be reminded of only this moment, but also of the vows
you have made and the strength of your commitment to each other…"

I confess, after that smile and handing Ginny the ring, my mind wanders through the years,
through our entire friendship.

She was and still is a bright point in my life when everything was really bad and part of me
feels like I'm losing her today and my heart grieves, but I know I'm not.

Not really.

Yes, after almost four years, we won't be living together anymore after tomorrow afternoon,
our boxes are packed and mostly all of my stuff has been moved into the finished house.
We're both growing up and moving forward with our lives and besides, Ginny and Harry live
about ten minutes away anyway, in a stunning red brick home Harry bought her as a wedding
present.

No, nobody can keep us too far apart.

We'll still go on morning jogs with Pansy, have breakfast together, girly movie nights with
just the four of us, lunches, and I'll definitely be cheering my head off at every Quidditch
match I can get to. And that's what makes me get through the wedding without many tears,
okay, that and the overwhelming amount of happiness I feel for her and Harry…not to
mention the sight of Draco dressed in black robes and a shockingly quiet Lizzie in his arms in
her cute cream dress on the front row, amongst the Weasleys.

Draco makes Lizzie wave at me and all I can do from that point on is smile.

"Go and live in love, sharing the most precious gifts you have—the gift of life. And may your
days be long on this earth. I now pronounce you man and wife…Harry, it gives me great
pleasure to say this…you may finally kiss your bride…"

I don't get a chance to see Draco or Lizzie after the ceremony.

After the introduction of Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter and the recessional, Ginny and Harry
disappear for a few quiet moments alone before the start of the reception, Pansy and Ron take
the task of leading everyone inside (arm in arm, of course), Luna helps, and I try to wait
around for Draco. But it becomes really hectic as a hundred or so people make their way
inside the manor, commenting on how elegant and magnificent Ginny looks even with the
tears in her eyes, the look of awe on Harry's face when he saw her, how wonderful the
ceremony was, and the beauty of the manor's garden.
Lots of old school friends, mostly Gryffindors, excluding Blaise, and a few Ravenclaws and
Hufflepuffs, are here and they all want to chat about the wedding and I'm far too happy to be
mean. It takes a while, but everyone comes out of the gardens and into the manor's largest
ballroom.

I'm so busy directing people that I miss them.

The ceiling is enchanted much like the ceiling in the Great Hall and it's charmed to make it
look like they're still outside. It's so bright and sunny. The reception is spectacular; it's better
than I could ever imagine and Pansy isn't the only one who looks moved by the sight. "Oohs"
and "Ahhs" can be heard all over the place. The floor is wooden and the walls in the room are
charmed to be cream and there are maroon and cream decorations hanging everywhere. Half
of the room is decorated with sixteen circular tables with eight chairs around them, cream
tablecloths, and maroon and cream centerpieces. Elevated off the floor is the semi-long
rectangular table I'll be sitting at with the bride and groom, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, as well as
the other bridesmaids and groomsmen.

Every person has been assigned a table and once I step up and settle in my seat, I look at table
one and smile at the sight of Lizzie in her chair and Draco. They're sitting with Blaise, Anne,
Andromeda, Percy, Bill, a pregnant Fleur, and Charlie. They've all adjusted so Lizzie can fit.
Teddy, Victorie (Bill and Fleur's little girl who didn't attend the shower because she was in
France), and Ella are sitting at the children's table.

The other half of the ballroom is the dance floor. The DJ booth is the exact one Blaise used
the night of Draco's birthday party. He's the DJ and if I know him as well as I do, he's going
to start conservative and then when everyone has enough firewhisky in them, he's going to
really get the party started.

But not right now.

Right now, we're all clapping as the newlyweds walk in and take their seats, Ginny's right
next to me and I hug her.

Everything is just wonderful. With a clap of Ginny's hand, something she's waited to do all
day with excitement, the food appears in front of everyone and I hear gasps of approval and
amazement. Chattering is persistent as everyone eats and after a half an hour, Ginny's parents
give the initial toasts to the bride and groom…and by the time speeches come, I'm gripping
my paper, slightly nervous as I stand for the first speech.

"So," I start and look down at my two dearest friends who haven't wiped the smile off their
faces since they sat down, "I had this wonderful speech written, but I think I'm not going to
use it. Harry you are one of my best friends and I love you like you were my own little
brother…"

Harry grins.

"We've been through a lot together since you and Ron saved me from that troll in the girl's
bathroom First Year. It's been a rollercoaster ride full of adventures, sadness, sorrow, pain,
but also happiness, love, laughter, fun, and an enormous amount of research—"
The entire room laughs at this; Harry, Ron, Neville, Luna, and Ginny especially.

When they calm down I continue, "And though we spent times wondering if we were going
to make it out of this mess alive, I never for a moment lost my faith in the fact that you were
going to get your happy ending, the happy ending you so deserve. And I'm so thrilled that it's
with Ginny. She is the best person I know. Take care of her; she is a little sensitive and
stubborn and she can't cook eggs for anything—"

A resounding laugh breaks out and Ginny glares playfully, but laughs because she knows it's
true.

"Trust her as you trust me and Ron, love her like you've never loved another, let her be your
tower of strength, be her protector when she needs one, be open and honest with her, and
finally, be happy together…"

He nods and wraps his arm around his new wife. I look at Ginny and my eyes well with tears.

"Ginny," I have to clear my voice because it breaks when our eyes meet, "Look at you! You
look amazing. I know I've been saying that all day, but you do. I can't believe you're finally
married. I always knew you'd be the first one between us four…granted you did get a head
start on the serious relationship bid…"

She smiles. Some people chuckle.

"No words can express what you mean to me, Ginny. None. We may not be blood related, but
you are my blood and my sister in every sense and definition of the word. You were, are, and
always will be my confidant, my rock, one of the godmother to my pride and joy, the one
who makes me laugh when all I want to do is cry, the one who comforts me when everything
is awry. I'm honored to be your best friend and touched to be your maid of honour…"

I hear Pansy start to sniffle and Ginny's eyes fill with tears and if she starts, I know I'll start
crying too.

"I confess I was a bit sad at the ceremony, I sort of felt like this was the end and I was losing
you, but now, I realise that this is just the beginning of everything and that nothing is really
changing. Ginny, you know like I know that Harry is about as stubborn as they come, be
patient with him, he means well and he has a heart of pure gold. He will jump from point A
to point Z in about half a second and I know this may be hard, but please don't do a
Riverdance on his glasses—"

The room erupts in laughter.

"With every fibre of my being and with everything I could possibly offer, I wish you both the
best. I want everyone to raise their glasses," I pick mine up just as everyone else does, "To
the bride and groom."

The entire room echoes, "To the bride and groom."

My speech is the last sentimental one. Ron is next and of course he didn't write one like I did
and stumbles through his speech, making everyone laugh as he goes into some detail about
the crazy things he and Harry have done together and how even though Ginny is a pain
sometimes, as all little sisters are, he wishes them the best. George makes everyone nearly die
laughing at his antics during his toast. Pansy gets up and gives a sweet, but hilarious speech
and Luna gives a strange one because she's Luna Lovegood and that's what she does, that's
why we love her so much.

As others give Ginny and Harry toasts, everyone begins to relax and unwind and hilarity sets
in. It's all in good fun and relatively good taste and I find myself grinning like crazy when
Lizzie starts babbling and Andromeda says, "I guess that was her wishing you two the best,"
and everyone awes. Draco and I exchange small smiles.

Now that the last of the speeches is finished, the cake has been cut and dispensed, and
wedding photos taken, Blaise starts the music for Harry and Ginny's first dance as husband
and wife. The first sounds of music seem to stir everyone from post-cake cutting
conversation. We all stand around and watch him, not so awkwardly thanks to dance lessons,
sway with her on the dance floor, the sight is beautiful and I smile and look around for Draco
and I don't see him.

Next, Ron and I, as maid of honour and best man, have to take the floor for the next dance
with the bride and groom. Ron is not the best dancer and steps on my foot quite a few times.
He's been trying to learn from Pansy, bless his heart…or should I say bless hers?

After the dance concludes, the firewhisky is distributed at enormous rates. Everyone crowds
the floor and a few songs later, the party is slowly starting to come alive. Jackets and ties
come off and I find myself on the sidelines smiling, watching Luna dance with her boyfriend,
Rolf. They're doing some weird dance which involves her spinning around in circles and him
doing something that looks like the Thriller dance.

Ginny and Harry make rounds all over the room and I stand on the sidelines, looking around
for my own fiancé.

I feel him behind me before he speaks lowly in my ear, "Looking for someone?"

Even though I feel his presence, my body still warms at his voice. I don't turn around or he'll
see the smirk on my face, but instead, I speak in playful tones, "Yes, I'm looking for my
fiancé. You've probably seen him…red hair, freckles, goes by the name of George, he's got
blue eyes and he's not pale and creepy like that crypt-keeper looking bloke, what's his name
again? Oh yes, the Amazing Bouncing F—"

Draco spins me around and kisses me firmly and asks darkly, his lips inches from mine,
"Think you're so goddamn funny, huh, Granger?"

Smirking like mad, "I don't think…I know I'm funny, Malfoy…where's Lizzie?"

"Being coddled by my aunt and poked at by Teddy. He was wondering where her teeth were
when I left."
"Oh no," The last time Teddy wonders this is about two days ago, during the walk-through of
the ceremony.

After Anne tells him to stop at least three times, he defiantly shoves his finger in Lizzie's
mouth and she gets mad and gnaws him, hard. Shackelbot is speaking directions to all of us
when all of a sudden we hear this piercing screams of pain. Teddy screams for at least ten
minutes and Lizzie sits on Anne's lap and just watches him with wide, innocent eyes. At one
point she smiles at the shrieking boy, a bit of drool running from the corner of her mouth.

Yet another example of some disturbing Slytherin behavior, Draco loves it immensely.

"Don't worry about it, he won't remember the traumatic event," he takes my hand once a slow
song comes on and gently tugs, "Let's dance."

I look at him crazy, "Since when do Malfoys dance?"

"Since now," he growls in his usual manner as he pulls me onto the floor.

"You're unusually bossy, I thought that was my job in this relationship," I chide gently.

He smirks and silences me with a kiss. As he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me
closer, I wrap both my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss in what is a rare moment of
public affection between the two of us. I'm flushed when he pulls away, and look him in the
eyes, "I'm surprised you're not upstairs, hiding away."

Draco merely shrugs, leans in and whispers seductively, his lips inches from my ear, "I
would've been, but I'm having a better time watching you in that dress and counting down the
hours until I can take it off with my teeth," he nibbles my earlobe for good measure.

Holy shit.

The combination of the nibbling and the images in my head make my body, my thoughts, and
my bloody knees turn to mush and I have to cling to him because I'm sure I'm going to fall
over. I fan myself, "Didn't know you were such a flirt."

His lips are inches from mine, "You learn something new everyday."

My stomach pools around my ankles. "I suppose."

Draco's lips press against my forehead, his voice hits my ears again like silk and I shut my
eyes, "Although, I personally think you look better in green."

Snorts softly, eyes still shut, "You would say that."

Draco chuckles lightly in my ear as his hand travel down my back slowly, "As cunning and
ambitious as you were back then, I'm surprised you weren't in Slytherin…would've made
things a lot easier if you were in my own house."

My eyes open wide, eyebrow threatens to touch the charmed ceiling of the ballroom, "Easier?
I would've been crucified for my blood status and you know it."
"True…" he pauses and whispers in my ears, "But when I used to fantasize about you in Fifth
Year, I'd only see you in a Slytherin jumper. Worked like a charm every time."

My mouth goes suddenly very dry.

We're not particularly fond of the next song and I don't think I can stand much longer with all
his whispering and kissing, so we sit it out and go on a quest to find Lizzie and quickly locate
her in Anne's arms, sleeping, while about seven or eight witches, some of them I recognise
from Bill and Fleur's wedding, fawn over her. How she can sleep with this noise and not
when someone drops a squeaky toy two metres from her crib is a mystery to me.

"She's just adorable—"

"Lizzie looks so much like her father—"

"Just precious—"

"She's an angel—"

"I can't believe she's six months old—"

They're all speaking at once and before they can drag us into questioning, Draco slips away
and I take Lizzie with the excuse that she needs to be put down for her nap.

My eyes spot Draco quickly. He's kneeling in front of Teddy who is holding his bandaged
finger for Draco to see. I'm sure his finger is just fine, it's probably some form of
appeasement after Lizzie, I suspect, gnaws him again for sticking his stubborn little fingers in
her mouth. I stand there and watch Teddy and Draco interact. Teddy is insisting Draco kiss
his finger to make it better and Draco, after giving the little boy a stern look a few times,
begrudgingly gives in.

I giggle under my breath.

"Oi!" Pansy calls as she runs across the dance floor to me, "Are you going to put Lizzie down
for a nap?"

I nod, "How are the dancing lessons with Ron?" I adjust the sleeping baby in my arms. For a
second, I wonder what she dreams about. She moves her hands in her sleep sometimes, like
she's trying to capture a butterfly that's just out of her reach or like a kitten playing with a ball
of yarn. Merlin, it's adorable.

"Abysmal," her voice interrupts my thoughts, "I had to relinquish him to Luna to spare my
feet," but she smiles proudly and gives him one good look, "He'll get better though, with
time."

"Oh, the eternal optimist," I chide playfully, "C'mon, Pansy, walk with me."

Eagerly, she agrees, blowing one last kiss to Ron who is dancing with a serene Luna,
probably stepping on her feet too and walks with me. We're heading up the grand staircase
when Pansy asks, "So, when are you and Draco getting married?"
Shrugs and adjusts Lizzie so her head is resting in the crook of my neck. She sighs a little and
I touch her head to comfort her, "We haven't talked about it much," I reply in softer tones,
rubbing her back, "To be honest. He wants me to at least try to work things out with my dad
before we start making plans."

Pansy's face does little to hide her shock, "How eerily mature of him."

"I know right, that's exactly what I was thinking when he told me." My hand brushes Lizzie's
blonde hair softly, "But I understand why he's doing this, I really do…I may not be my dad's
biggest fan, but I know I'll regret it if something happens to him while we're fighting and he
never gets a chance to meet Lizzie."

Her voice is soft, but it still echoes off the high walls of the hallways. "Why don't you just go
to him?"

I shrug and turn down one of the massive hallways, heading straight for the nursery, "I don't
know. Part of me wants him to come to me, it is the mature adult thing to do. He knows Anne
comes and visits me, he knows about Lizzie, he even knows about Nott's attack and the
severity of it, but did he come to check on me? No. He didn't. He didn't care, probably
thought of it as something I brought on myself for deciding to do something he didn't approve
of," I shake my head sadly, "And it hurts. He's supposed to be my dad, but I don't think he's
been my dad since my mum died. I don't think he knows how. And I pity him. And because
of this pity, I find myself wanting to be the better person and fixing this one myself. I want to
let him see that Lizzie isn't a mistake but a captivating and beautiful little girl. I want him to
see that Draco is indeed here for the long haul. And I want to show him that I'm immensely
happy with the way things turned out…and hope for the best."

Pansy is silent for a moment, "Well I guess we're down to one question."

"And what's that?"

"Which side to listen to?"

"Sadly I don't have an answer," I push open the door and smile at Pinky who is cleaning the
nursery, "Hi, Pinky." I greet the elf right before placing Lizzie in the crib. She stirs some and
Pansy has to gently pry her little fingers off my dress, but eventually she's settled. Like I do
when there are a lot of people in the house, I cast a protection charm over the crib and ask
Pinky to please watch her and don't let anyone who isn't either me or Draco near the crib and
to inform us when she wakes.

Pinky nods obediently.

Conversation back to the reception lightens.

She's in full-on chatter mode about Ron and their relationship and how much she adores him,
and her insecurities about becoming too clingy because she has a natural tendency to become
clingy when she really likes someone. "Pansy…don't worry about it. Ron likes you, just go
with the flow and don't overanalyze too many things."
She takes a breath, "Mum wants to meet him."

My eyes widen, "Does she know he's a W—"

She nods, "She's just happy he's a Pureblood, to be honest. She also wants to meet Lizzie."

Of course, I stop dead when I hear this. "She wants to—wait, she won't even let me on the
property because I'm Muggle-Born and she wants to—does she honestly think I'd let her, no
offense Pansy, but does your mum think I'm stupid enough to let her prejudiced arse meet my
half-blood daughter? If so, she's more of a moron than I originally thought…no offense to
that either, but seriously…"

"None taken," Pansy giggles, "I told her she'd had too many calming potions, which rendered
her mentally unstable. She hasn't brought it up since."

I laugh heartily at this and link arms with her as we go downstairs.

"Hey, Pan?" I speak a few moments later, once we're at the bottom of the steps.

She looks at me, "Yeah."

"What are you doing tomorrow and do you work on Mondays?"

"Nope, I don't work until Wednesday. As for tomorrow, I'll be at home, then I'm going to the
Burrow for dinner with Ron, then we'll come back and do more of the same with Ron, who
will probably be tired from moving Gin's stuff out the flat."

I smile because what she says is so true, "Can you do me a favour and take Lizzie tonight
after the wedding and keep her until Monday morning? Blaise is helping Draco move the rest
of my stuff out before they help tomorrow morning. I'm going to Floo over there after the
party is done."

"Yeah, no problem, but I have to go home and make sure it's Lizzie-safe so I'll Floo over to
the flat and pick her up from there, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan…when are Ginny and Harry leaving for their honeymoon again?"

"Like tomorrow morning. Shame they're spending their wedding night packing."

"Oh, I'm sure they'll have some fun," I wiggle my eyebrow.

Pansy shrieks with laughter and nudges me playfully with her hip. "Just like you and Draco
will without little Lizzie tonight."

"He did mention something about wanting to take my dress off with his teeth—"

She bursts into fits of laughter. "He did not say that!"

"Oh," I laugh with her. There's a little sofa where we are and we sit on it. "But he did. I
would've never believed it had I not heard it with my own ears. Never knew him to be such a
flirt."

"He's comfortable with you now, I've noticed, maybe that's why he's flirting more. He's more
relaxed, like he doesn't have anything to worry about."

"Partial retirement does that to someone, I suppose, even though he does more than I do these
days," I shake my head, "I still can't believe he did it, but I support his decision, even though
we didn't make the decision as a couple…I start back at St. Mungo's Monday after next and
there's no one who can watch Lizzie through the day better than her father. I just can't believe
he came up with the idea on his own."

"I can," is Pansy's simple reply.

Turning to her, "You can?"

"Of course," she makes a face like "Duh! Of course I can!" and proceeds, "Draco, for the first
time in his life, is content. He doesn't need to work; he's probably only doing as much as he is
now because he wants to do it. After four years, he has you. He has Lizzie. You two are his
family…he hasn't had one since his parents died. He's got more friends now than he's ever
had in his life and that's thanks to you, too. He has nearly a billion galleons and with Blaise,
I'm sure he's going to make a few more. He doesn't need anything else. Draco Malfoy is
happy and content."

"And how is it that you know all this, Pansy?"

"I've known him all my life, Hermione. And yes, we did date ages ago, but he's one of my
best friends when it's all said and done. I know him like you know Harry and I—did you
honestly think that he bought your ring alone?"

My mouth falls open, "You were with him?"

"Of course I was, silly!" she beams, "He was nervous as hell the entire time, thinking that
maybe you'd catch him buying a ring and ge—"

I snort because he was right to make that assumption.

She laughs and continues, "I was thinking of a gaudy ring, he was thinking elsewhere. I
scoffed at that, I mean, what girl wouldn't like a bunch of diamonds? I know they're my best
friend…next to you guys. When the lady at the shop asked him to describe you, he said that
you were simple, strong, willful, and he didn't want to get you a gaudy ring incase you ever
decided to punch him in a fit of rage. Those rings tend to leave cuts. Note how smooth your
diamond is, it won't harm him if you decide to hit him…"

I laugh.

"The real reason why I know he's content…he told me, in his own way that involved some
snarling, cursing, and very Draco Malfoy behavior."

Only Pansy would deduce that snarling, Malfoy behavior, and cursing as an admittance of
contentment. But she is like Ginny in the sense that hardly anything gets past her. I can
confess I can be a little blind to the obvious, only because it seems impossible and illogical to
me. Then, it seemed impossible that for Draco to care for me enough to try and make me stay
that night in the study, it seemed illogical that he wanted to have a baby with me because that
just went against what he was raised to believe in and I did too, and it seemed impossible that
after everything we went through that he should want to marry me. Me.

But it was and is possible, logical, and very much a reality for me.

My eyes wander down to the ring, this is real and forever and it doesn't bother me.

Pansy decides to change the subject because I am lost is a sea of thoughts, "Lizzie and I are
going to have so much fun tonight."

"She's six months old…how exactly do you plan to have fun?"

"Easy," she gets up and pulls me up too; ready to go back to the party. Pansy claps her hands
suddenly, "I can try new hairstyles on her. It's going to be so fun!"

I fire a strange look her way when we link arms again, "Lizzie doesn't have enough hair to
style."

Snorts, "I beg to differ. A pigtails would look lovely on little Lizzie's cute head."

"Definitely," I chuckle and snap my fingers, "Oh yeah," I remember suddenly, "One more
thing…we're about the same size right?"

"Yeah, our dresses are the same size," she answers slowly like it's a trick question.

"Not a trick, I was wondering…do you have any of your old Slytherin jumpers that you can
fit now?"

"Yeah," again, her response is slow and there's a growing look of confusion on her face, "I
can still fit all my Seventh Year jumpers…why?"

"Can I borrow one of them…with the tie?"

Pansy's eyebrow rises slowly, her interest is piqued but she doesn't have to say anything else,
"Sure. When do you want it?"

My answer is instant, "Tonight."

Part Three: Bedroom Talk

August 18th

Some old habits die hard.

Tonight is the first night Draco and I will spend together in our new home…and where
exactly am I?
Curled up in a comfortable chaise lounge in the library, the only room I've completely
finished unpacking, book open, reading…albeit absently.

The walls are painted a shade of blue and the floor is wood with a great Moroccan rug spread
across it, a gift from Anne years ago when we went to Morocco. Nine mahogany bookshelves
line all four walls of this room and there are a lounge chair that's seating matches the walls as
well as a matching love seat in the center of the room. The desk is by the door, next to the
bookshelf and the top of the desk is lined with an encyclopedia set. With the natural lighting
through the day and the light from the floor lamps at night, the room reminds me of a more
intimate version of the Hogwarts library.

I like it. Between the two of us, we didn't have enough space for our books, so after
organizing them by subject, author, and year of publication, I had to charm them to appear
slimmer than they actually are and they will inflate to their regular size when someone tries
to pull it out. In the event that a Muggle pulls a book out, it will remain the same size as it
does on the shelf. Nifty little charm, huh? Draco thought so too. It's one of my own
inventions…

Speaking of, he should be home in a minute.

He called to let me know everything was finally out of the flat and that I should tell Ginny
(when she returns from her Honeymoon in Portugal) that she should be happy to have me as
a friend because if it weren't for me, he would've never helped her family move all her stuff
out…well, that isn't exactly what he said. Add a couple of shits and damns and that'll be
closer to what he said. Apparently Ginny, even after spending half of her wedding night
moving stuff, still has a lot of stuff. Not surprising.

While he goes on a mini-rant, all I can do is smile because it's hilarious being on the other
end of a rant.

A few minutes later, I hear the front door shut.

I'm about to shut my book when I hear him call my name.

And I wait.

I wait for the pause. I wait to hear him come up the stairs. I wait for him to walk down the
hall. I wait.

Draco sticks his head in the room and looks around before his eyes fall on me, "Herm…"

And as expected, his voice fades to dust when he sees me and his eyes nearly pop out.

Well, I can't help but think with a smirk, this worked out especially well.

After pressing them and staring at them for another ten minutes, about an hour ago, I put on
Pansy's jumper, the pleated black skirt with the white blouse and the matching jacket that has
the Slytherin emblem on the left breast pocket. And the green and silver tie, oh, let's not
forget the knee-high socks and boots. Pansy wore her skirts short and her shirts tight, but I'm
thinking it's working to my advantage. To top off the vision, I frizz up my hair just a little,
just like old times.

This is a bit different, for both of us, but the look on his face makes everything worth it.

Sitting the book on the table next to the chaise lounge, I stand up.

Draco hasn't spoken a word. He just keeps blinking with his mouth slightly ajar.

With each slow step I take towards him, I take in his appearance, eyes watching him almost
hungrily. For the first time in as long as I've known him, Draco isn't wearing all black and
he's not wearing a suit either; I nearly topple over at the sight. His skin is a bit flushed from
the moving adventure today. He's causally dressed in dark blue denims and a black t-shirt,
probably Blaise's doing.

I didn't hear him leave the Manor this morning; still wiped out from the night before. He
certainly did come through with his promise to take off my dress with his teeth and for the
first time since that botched attempt, we had sex. Great sex. I get hot under the collar just
thinking about last night…not to mention, the sight before me.

I need to thank Blaise the next time I see him.

Draco noticeably becomes more and more rigid, to the point where he's gripping the handle
of the door with such a forceful grip I'm sure it's going to crumble in his hands any second
now. I reach for his hand that's gripping the hell out of the door, lightly grazing the tip of my
nail against his knuckles. He hisses like this little insignificant touch burns him, yet he's
shivering like he's enduring the coldest blizzard in recorded history without as much as a
jacket. I almost back down, unhinged by his reaction to me, but I'm only wearing Slytherin
clothes, I am very much a courageous Gryffindor at heart.

Absently, I bite my lip when I look at him.

Draco releases this low, rumbling groan that seems to originate from his gut.

Well, this is interesting.

The smirk on my face grows into a very evil grin.

"You're very quiet this evening, Draco," I speak, almost in a low purr.

He's as turned on as he is confused, "Why—"

I cut him off abrasively, "Everyone deserves to have a fantasy come true every once in a
while."

And then I pounce.

My lips are on his in a frenzy I'm unfamiliar with, I pull back and search his cloudy eyes for a
moment and then I crush my lips against his once more. It's powerful; this tidal wave of lust,
love, and emotion hits me hard, I feel myself stagger, just a bit lightheaded from it all. He's
kissing back, but still tense, probably confused and stunned, but soon he's kissing me with
everything in him.

The vice grip on the doorknob is released.

Draco's hand rests on my bum and he squeezes it. My eyebrow rises and I tangle one leg with
his…hand on bum…this is something new, but I ignore it and keep kissing him fiercely. And
then his hand slowly moves down then up the back of my skirt and he's greeted with a pair of
silk green knickers that matches the bra he'll be seeing up, close, and personal really soon.
He's right, green does look better on me.

That hand rubs my bum while the other wraps around my waist, keeping me upright because
my legs feel like I've been hit with a jelly-leg curse at this exact moment. Both my arms wrap
around his neck. His breathing has changed, but so has mine. My lips move in this frenzy
down to his neck and I kiss and suck this spot on his neck, right on his jugular that makes
him growl…and that's when I feel it.

His hand connects with my bum and I bite down on his neck in surprise as my body reaches
its boiling point. He groans loudly, a mix of pleasure and pain. That's definitely going to
leave a mark. Draco Malfoy: the sensational bum slapper? This is too much for me to
comprehend, not that I mind, it's just that he's never done that before.

I pull back and look at him, startled, "You slapped my bum…"

"Should I apologise?" is his husky reply.

"No," I smirk and astonish even myself when I say, "I-I think I k-kind of liked it."

"I'll note that," and his lips are on mine, greedily kissing me as the room begins to sway and
spin.

Last night was all about taking our time, exploring, and passion. Tonight is all about pure,
white, hot, lust and uninhibited sex. Tonight is all about fulfilling his fantasy.

He's ready to go on the Moroccan rug; I'm thinking and not exactly feeling the idea of waking
up with my body covered in rug burns. Not good memories associated with them.
Determined to keep my focus on him and this, I push all those thoughts aside and let him
devour my mouth with his lips and his tongue and occasionally, when he decides to nip my
lower lip, his teeth too.

And as he does this, I blindly guide him back to the bedroom, trying not to trip on boxes and
on each other.

Draco slips a little and I find myself giggling like a teenager.

The next minute is a long blur. A low growl, fifty feet, more clumsiness, a lot of kissing, and
a kick to the door later and Draco lifts me up on the bed. I feel loose and wobbly, unsteady
even. It's a nice, dreamy feeling that I really like. His lips, I observe, are swollen and puffy
from kissing and he's more flushed now than he was when he walked in.
While he undresses, Draco stands between my legs, watching me intently. I, on the other
hand, lean back on the bed on my hands and watch him. Then he's naked and I wait,
expecting him to tackle me or something, but he doesn't. Instead, he takes off my shoes and
speaks for the first time, in a predatory growl, of course, "You have no clue how turned on I
am."

"Actually, I think I do," my heart threatens to race out my chest.

He looks doubtful, but says nothing more on the subject, "Lift up."

Obediently, I lift up off the bed just slightly and with a small tug the skirt is gone and tossed
aside. Next to go is the jacket and not long after, all I'm left in is the green and silver
Slytherin tie, the green lacy bra, and my socks.

I expect to feel his weight on me, but instead he spreads my legs and does something we've
never done before, not until last night. His tongue is warm and delicate, licking me
tentatively. Draco holds my legs wide, holds me open while he explores. He takes his time,
licking everywhere, and my quaking body is in ruins it seems.

Next are the fingers.

With a push, he slides not one, but two long, slender fingers deep inside me and I groan. I'm
slick and incredibly wet, or so he tells me I rest on the bed, body humming. I cover his hand
to keep him inside of me, moaning appreciatively as my hips rock, riding his fingers. He licks
his thumb on his other hand and uses it to rub my clit, still fingering me hard and deep.

Gasping from the first touch, I'm arching off the bed, "Draco," I moan. If he doesn't stop it's
—he replaces his thumb with his tongue and everything goes hazy. It's close. I'm close. Oh.
Shit. My thighs tense, body convulses, I'm wiggling, and—"Draco!" I cry out, entire body
stiffens as I climax quickly; the pleasure nearly makes me cry.

In the middle of it, Draco climbs up on the bed, between my legs, and plunges into me.

I'm so stunned all I can do is ride the wave from the last one and hope it finishes before the
next one hits. His movements are rough and eager; he tangles his hand in my hair, plants
kisses all over my face as he thrusts into me wildly. We rock the mattress with our own
movements.

Draco's lips curve into a faint smile as he thrusts, our eyes never breaking contact as he picks
up the already fast and rough pace and I wrap my legs around him tight. Again and again,
over and over, the sensations in me are building. I can barely stand it. Draco's moaning quite
openly now, muttering under his breath, I still don't know what, and I'm certain I don't care.

This is intoxicating. He is intoxicating. This entire scenario is intoxicating. And it's bringing
my orgasm closer and closer with every movement of his hips. I start moving with him and it
makes him groan louder, his body is a mess of shivers and he's almost there. That just makes
me hornier, if at all possible. Draco pauses and buries himself into me as deep as possible and
holds it there for a moment, like he's trying to hold back.
His next breath comes out heavy and I touch his chest that's glistening with sweat, his heart is
racing.

Draco toys with the tie a moment before looking straight into my eyes as he says rather
lowly, "Ride me."

When he settles on the pillow, I crawl up the bottom of the bed like a cat, tie hanging. He's
watching me, biting his lip just a little. I lean forward to kiss him just long enough to tease
him, which I accomplish successfully. Draco growls when I pull away and I just smile.

"I didn't know Gryffindors were so evil."

Pulls at his bottom lip with my teeth, I smile evilly, "Check the tie, Draco…I'm all Slytherin
tonight."

He moans when I position myself and slowly push down on him, moaning while he does, as
he fills me completely. I think I sigh something like, "Oh, god," but I'm unsure. The new
position changes the angle of everything for the better and by the time I'm fully settled on
him, my body's going through that familiar hum.

I've never done this before so my first movements are cautious. Draco grips my hips and
together, we start a nice rhythm. It feels better than expected and soon it's all pure sensation,
flesh on flesh as pleasure builds for us both. I lean forward and he starts moaning in my ear,
crying out as I ride him. His position makes his neck open to me and I accept with almost
greedy lips and tongue, fingers gripping his shoulders as I plunge again and again, woozy and
blindly horny from our movements.

Its back, the orgasm for the both of us is coming faster than I want, but it's good.

Draco starts meeting my thrusts, driving himself up into me and he's holding back and I'm
holding on until I can't stand to for another minute, second, at all. And then I hear that moan
of his, the distinctive one. It triggers my orgasm and I topple of the edge, crying out. It takes
about two seconds for Draco to heave upward, his orgasm hitting him hard and he cries out
my name as well as a few curse words. This orgasm is so torturous I feel like I'm dying. It's
too much, not enough, everything and nothing all at the same time. His body is hard beneath
me, trembling. I'm sure if he had nails, my back would look like I'd been attacked by a
werewolf by now.

Collapsing against him, I ride the undulation of this orgasm as he kisses me where his lips
fall, making random paths of heat on my shaking body. He's shaking too, breathing just as
hard as I am, and sweating just as bad, but this is good.

Soft touches and calming kisses do their job quickly and I relax against his warm body,
smiling.

We lay here, bathing in afterglow for what feels like hours. Draco's hand is rubbing up and
down my back with feather touches and he speaks words so soft. I should be dozing, but I'm
not. Instead, I find myself wanting more. I want him until we're not capable of pleasure
anymore. And so I decide to wake back up the relaxed dragon.
Pushing down on him slightly, I hear him hiss, still a bit sensitive and not totally hard
anymore, "Again?"

"Again," I repeat and pull myself off of him and roll on the bed next to him, giving him an
inviting look.

He groans from the surprise and the sudden coolness, quickly rolling on top of me. He
strokes himself a few times and mumbles something and my legs straddle him, hugging him
as he fills me completely again. Again and again, I want him with more desperation I haven't
fully realized until he'd been inside of me earlier.

"You're insatiable tonight," he breathes as he glides inside me.

I just smile. Yes. I am. I just feel like I can go forever. He's thrusting faster and all I can do is
hold on and moan with him. He's moving inside me, hitting the right spots, making my body
spasm. My nails dig in his skin, moaning. I try to move up, but Draco holds me down like
he's determined to do all the work now. Moving in and out, I groan, lost in sensation with
each motion he makes.

Draco grits his teeth and slowly rests on me, nuzzling in my neck as his thrusts increase in
speed. It's hypnotic.

"More," I groan, clenching to him so tight. I'm beyond understanding why this word is stuck
on my tongue. He's giving me more, thrusting harder, his pace quickening. This relentless
pleasure is here, making me weak, making my thighs ache and tense. It goes on and on, he's
filling me to the hilt in short thrusts, following the unconscious movements of my own hips
against his.

Its building once more, it's building in him too, his moans are getting outrageous and they're
propelling me forward at a dangerous speed.

Five minutes later and I'm clinging to him after another orgasm…coming down, taking
everything he has to offer. Draco's blanketing me, shivering, still moaning and trying to calm
down. He comes with the same intensity that he shags me with, body rigid from head to toe,
eyes half open and staring at me, grinding his hips into mine. And minutes later, as I lay here
content, he's back to whispering in my ear, words that make me blush, telling me how
fantastic I am and how this was better than the fantasy…

And just before he falls asleep, he rolls us over so I'm on top, pulls the comforter over us and
kisses my tender and kind of swollen lips.

Now, he's sleeping.

Actually, he's been asleep a while and his arms are wrapped around me just right. It's warm,
I'm happy, and my head is resting on his chest, listening to his heart thump in his chest. I
understand why it's so calming for Lizzie. And as I lay here, slowly drifting into a
comfortable sleep, I know I won't move even if the world decides to end.
 Sixteen

Part One: Crawling

September 28 th

It's been really hard going back to work.

Everything has changed so much in my life, for the better, yet the moment I Apparate into St.
Mungo's, I feel like I've gone back in time, back to Nott and the attack and Lizzie's birth and
the horror of it all. When I see Grant, all I see is him trying desperately to save me after
Lizzie's birth and I see the blood that covered his robes afterwards…I know these are false
memories, but they're horrific. I know he sees the same thing when he sees me because he's
been avoiding me ever since. Yes, he came to the shower, but he left quickly after it started. I
can't fault him for his actions, we aren't even close anyway. It was a scary time for us all.

After a month back, I decide it's time to go into the break room once, with Pansy, just to see
if I can ever sit in there without seeing myself on the ground, curled up in a ball, desperately
trying to protect my baby from a madman who seems content with using me as his own
punching and kicking bag. I want to see if I can't hear Pansy's hysterical screaming, her pain,
her fear, and my final request. I want to see if I can sit here and pretend it's just another
room…

The answer is no.

You would've thought Voldemort and the entire regimen of Death Eaters were chasing me the
way I ran from the room. I ran straight down the hall, into the emergency area, through the
swinging doors, ignoring the questions and the yelling of my name, and right out the front
entrance. I ran down the street. I ran. I ran until my feet gave out. I ran because I didn't have
that option the first time. I just ran.

And then, when I feel burning in my lungs, the tightness of my legs, the aching of my
stomach, the soreness of my arms, my racing mind and heart, when everything overwhelms
me, I stop and fall to my knees, and for the first time, I let myself cry about what happened. I
don't cry for me, no. I did what I could to protect Lizzie and if that includes getting hurt in the
process, that's fine. Instead, I cry for Pansy, who, even in war, has never seen such a
gruesome act of violence committed on one person. I cry for Harry and Ron because we have
had to grow up too early and it always seems like one of us is always getting hurt. I cry for
Ginny, who thought that our last words to one another were going to be about napkin designs
and their purpose.

I cry for Anne and my dad because they could've lost so much, so fast. Even if one of them
isn't speaking to me, I cry anyway. I cry for Luna and Blaise, who had the hard job of keeping
everyone calm. I cry for Draco because no one should ever be tortured the way he was, to
have to make a decision between your baby and the woman you love, it's awful. And then I
cry for Lizzie because it isn't fair that she had to make an early appearance into the world
because him. It isn't fair that there has been so much hate directed towards her, not just by
Nott, but by her own grandfather as well. She didn't do anything to deserve it; she's just a
baby. It isn't fair that she has experienced such an atrocious amount of violence so soon in
life, even though she'll never remember it, it doesn't change the fact that it happened. And I
cry for Lizzie's innocence more than anything else.

I don't know how long I cry until I feel arms wrap around me. Pansy is out of breath from
chasing me, but she finds enough of her voice to whisper, "Let it out."

And I do.

She drags me into an alley and Apparates me back home where we sit in the floor and I just
cry.

I didn't have to think about any of that while at home. Home has become, in the months since
my leave, a safe haven of some sorts. It's protected me, in its own way, from the horrors of
the world. At home, I'm not plagued by thoughts, assaulted by memories…at home I can
forget and granted that forgetting isn't the best cathartic measure, it works. At home I'm
distracted by everything that is Lizzie, by Draco, by books, other activities, family, and
friends. I can't possibly think about the pain and terror I felt that day when there's so much
love surrounding me, when we're all laughing at something Ron has said or done.

But home isn't protecting me now like it used to. Now, I'm back to the real world.

I used to walk the halls confidently, now I look over my shoulder. I used to nap in that break
room, now it doesn't exist to me anymore. I used to like it when people ask about me, now I
absolutely dread it. People have been relentless since my return. As much as I've tried to,
they never let me forget about Nott. As much as I've told, they always have more questions.
As detailed as I've been with my account of that day, they want to know grizzly details.

Can't they see I just want to move on with my life?

After another long day that's been better than days before, I sigh and stare at the table, happy
to be out of that place. I put in my request to switch departments today and it will no doubt
get approved. I think it's time to move on from healing those who have had magical
accidents.

Hours later, I check my watch and look up to see my three best friends walking into the
restaurant together.

I don't know where I'd be without them and to be honest, I don't ever want to find out. They
keep me sane and grounded, laughing and playing, and I love them like they were my own
sisters. When they sit down, Ginny launches into part four of her "I'm a happy newlywed"
sermon and while Pansy rolls her eyes with a chuckle, Luna just smiles.

"Seriously, guys…being married is amazing. I—"

"We know, we know," Pansy interrupts with a drawl and recites what Ginny has told us in
parts one, two, and three of her sermon, "You would never give this up for anything, Harry is
a great husband, and each night you go to sleep with a smile on your face…although I know
it has something to do with getting the hell shag—"

"Pansy!" I whisper harshly, nudging her in the arm. Brash Pansy just fires me an innocent
look.

Luna laughs and Ginny just smiles, blushing a bit.

"So," I proceed, "Does anyone have any new news?"

"Rolf made it past three months," Luna says with a serene shrug, "He believes in nargles."

I just stare at her in amazement. "Wow, Luna. Does that mean..."

"I like him." Luna smiles this peaceful smile, "You know, It's wonderful to have such good
friends, I really feel like I belong somewhere," she says in a way that reminds me of a
younger Luna. "I think I want some pudding for dessert."

And that's the end of the discussion, none of us press it.

Instead, we all rattle off what we're going to get: chicken for Ginny, a salad for Pansy, and a
club sandwich for me.

"Ginny," Pansy looks at her once the waitress walks away with our orders, "you might want
to close your ears."

"Why?"

"Unless you want to hear about your brother's sex life—"

She shudders like she's seen her boggart, "My brother has a sex life?"

"Now he does."

"Oh, that's gross! I'm going to the loo to Obliviate myself." And she gets up and walks off,
shaking her head.

When she's gone, Luna raises her brow at Pansy, "You shagged Ron?"

She nods proudly, "Last night. He was a bundle of nerves and he kept staring at me like I
wasn't real, like this wasn't really happening or something…is that normal?"

"Yeah," I smirk and reply without even thinking, "Draco still does t—"

Pansy shoots me a sly look, "I bet he does…especially since you like to play dress up."

I glare, but it turns into a smirk.

She wasn't supposed to know about that, but she dropped Lizzie off that Monday morning
earlier than we expected and I had only enough time to jump into a robe. A sliver of the tie
was sticking out the robe and of course, she saw it…and then saw Draco's pleased face when
he came downstairs with noticeable marks on his neck and his arms. She told me to keep the
jumper…in case we feel the need to play dress up again.

And then she proceeded to tell Ginny and Luna about it.

I could've hit her, but it's pretty funny...and besides, now that she can no longer talk to Ginny
about her sex life with Ron, she's going to ask me for advice and suggestions...I think we all
know where I'm going with this. Insert evil laugh right here.

"This isn't about me," I smirk, "It's about you and Ron…so did you like it?"

"He was okay, a bit different from what I'm used to because he's kind of inexperienced, but
he's attentive and I'm a good teacher…you don't think he was a virgin, do you?"

"No, he wasn't." I quickly mention that we had sex twice while we dated and he had a one
night stand with Lavender right after we broke up.

She takes the news with a shrug. "Well, it makes sense. He's had sex three, well, four times in
his life, no wonder he was nervous."

Luna and I giggle and Ginny reappears, which promptly ends all conversation about her and
Ron's sex life.

Pansy asks, quite brashly once we're served dinner, "Hermione…when are you going to see
your dad?"

I sigh and chew on a bit of my club sandwich, "Dad's birthday is Friday and she's invited us
to dinner…"

"So Friday it is…" Luna says ominously.

Yes, Friday it is…I sigh to myself.

Oh, please believe I've considered not going to dinner Friday, but after all Anne's done for me
and Lizzie, there's no way I can not show up. And he still is my dad, even if he's the world's
biggest git alive. Besides, I've come to the decision that it's high time that I see him, talk to
him, and let Draco and Lizzie meet him.

Time to be brave because it's not going to be a pretty reunion.

"How's Lizzie? I feel like I haven't seen her in ages." Pansy asks, taking a sip of her drink.

"She's great, Draco's kind of bitter because she keeps saying "ma" over and over. He just
knew she'd say "da" first. Next week she'll be eight months old. I was thinking about having
everyone over Saturday for dinner to celebrate."

"That sounds good," Luna smiles.

"How's Draco taking the retirement?"

"Oh, it's going well…he keeps busy. I think he likes not having to go in to an office
everyday."

I almost wanted to say, "What retirement?" because Draco works more now that he's retired
than ever before, but he does it on his own time. I think that's the real reason he retired, so he
doesn't have to work on a set schedule. He still attends to every single one of Lizzie's needs,
and when she's either napping or when Mrs. Weasley or Anne decide they want to spend time
with her, that's when he gets work done. He takes her to meetings with him and leaves her in
the care of Ellis, who we both trust with her.

They're apparently working on this merger deal with a Muggle lending company because
Blaise is really interested in expanding the company to include Muggles. It's a bold move on
their part, to expand to muggles, but I think it's going to benefit in the long run. At least once
a week when I come home from my shift at St. Mungo's, I see Draco and Blaise and the new
guy, Sam, working on figures and facts at the kitchen table. Lizzie is always in his arms or
they're playing on the floor, because he doesn't work while she's awake. Blaise and Sam
usually work in silence while Draco takes care of his daughter.

When I come in, I take over parenting because Lizzie gets really excited to see me and he
goes to work in the kitchen. I usually, play and feed Lizzie, bathe her and sing songs with her;
I read her a story and put her to bed. Most of the time, Draco, who is horrific in the kitchen,
orders sometime to eat, but sometimes I cook because it looks like they're going to be a
while.

Sometimes, I sit with them and listen. Blaise always asks my advice about things, being a
Muggle-Born and all and I always add my opinion, just to help. I give them a few new ideas
on how to draw in Muggles to the company, the right interest rates for loans, and things they
can do to improve what they already have.

In addition to that, he's started to donate money to charities and attend their galas on the
weekends, part for business and part for pleasure. Sometimes I go with him and we leave
Lizzie in the care of one of her godparents, sometimes we take Lizzie too and he proudly
shows her off, and sometimes Lizzie and I stay home. Those are the nights he doesn't stay
long.

The rest of dinner goes by in a flash and the next thing I know, I'm walking into my house. It
feels good to be home. I really miss them during the day and sometimes it takes everything I
am to go out with my friends instead of rushing home, but Draco encourages it.

"Anyone home?" I call out, placing my bag on the floor next to the door and walk through the
foyer.

It's plausible that no one is home; he's been spending the last couple of days with his aunt.

They didn't talk much before Lizzie was born due to his pride and her always being busy with
Teddy, but now that he's a bit more mature, I think he's really trying to change their
relationship. Family. Now that he has one of his own, family is starting to become more and
more important to him.
"In the sitting room!" Draco calls back and I hear Lizzie laughing.

Lizzie is on the floor, in just a white shirt, rocking back and forth on her hands and knees, but
not going anywhere, she's babbling animatedly about something and Draco is lying on the
floor on his side, next to her, head propped up, listening and watching her, and sometimes
speaking back.

I'm surprised he's not working tonight, but I don't say anything because the sight of the two of
them is just adorable.

She squeals when she sees me and rocks harder like she's determined to get to me.

For a second, I look at my daughter with every ounce of motherly pride. In the past two
months, Lizzie blonde hair has grown a little…and started to curl. It still looks a touch darker
than Draco's…and I'm still pleased that she may look more like me after all. She's still a bit
small for her age, but she's developing rapidly. I scoop her in my arms and drop what seem
like millions of kisses on her face. I tell her that I missed her today and Lizzie giggles and
laughs and, of course, she drools on me. Draco gets off the floor and kisses me until I feel
unsteady on my feet. Sweet Merlin.

Minutes later, a determined and slightly frustrated-looking Lizzie is back on the floor
rocking. Draco says she can go on like this for hours.

We're all on the floor now; I'm lying on Draco's chest, listening to him talk to her and
watching her babble back. I just watch my family (feels good to say that) while his hand runs
up and down my back.

I ask softly, "Has she gone anywhere yet?"

"No, but she looks bloody determined…how was your day?"

"Not too bad. Just long…where's Blaise and Sam?"

"In New York for the start of the merger meetings. So far, so good."

"That's great…what did you do today?"

"I had a meeting this morning, we did a little shopping in Diagon Alley, and we went by my
aunt's early this afternoon for brunch. It's official. Teddy doesn't like Lizzie and I don't think
she's fond of him either."

I chuckle and keeps my eyes on Lizzie who's suddenly stopped rocking and lifts her left knee,
"What happened?" I ask, keeping my eyes on her rather curiously.

Draco isn't watching. "I think they were playing and Lizzie picked up a toy Teddy wanted
and he snatched it from her. She started screaming and my aunt made him give it back to her,
but then he gets mad and starts crying, saying that he hates her and that she gets everything
she wants. Typical tantrum. Lizzie—" he's cut off by my sharp gasp.

Lizzie has just started crawling.

Part Two: Flames

October 1 st

"And now, the weather. It's going to be a beautiful autumn day here in London with a high of
15 degrees Celsius. There is, however a chance of rain late in the afternoon, and a
thunderstorm brewing in the west, just off the coast. It should not affect us until later on
tonight so enjoy this beautiful, autumn day with your families…"

I just snort and flip the radio off.

Enjoy the day with my family? I think not.

I look out the passenger window, there's not a cloud in the sky. Not one speck of white in the
clear, blue sky. The sun is out and if it weren't for the wind, it would be a hot autumn day.
Rain? Rain doesn't look possible today.

Draco heaves a sigh.

Lizzie is in the backseat babbling and shrieking away, thoroughly entertained by her hands
and her bib that says "I love my grandma" that she's trying to remove. She is the happiest
person in the car…and she makes the most noise too. I don't know what she's talking about or
who she's talking to, but all is right in her baby world and for that alone I'm 's been terribly
quiet this morning and I'm thrilled Lizzie, who is eerily observant, hasn't picked up on it yet.

We eat in silence, clean in silence, shower in silence, bathe Lizzie in silence, and Draco, out
of nervousness, spends a lot of time this morning making sure everything on tables,
nightstands, and dressers are perfect and in place. We dress in silence, me in denims and a red
long-sleeved shirt and Draco in dark denims, white shirt, and a black blazer.

Lizzie is a cutie in a baby blue dress and matching longalls that kind of remind me of
leggings, and she's wearing some matching shoes. Her soft curly hair has been brushed and
she's wearing the matching headband, still to her dismay. It's only her fascination with her
bib, hands that keeps her from ripping it off her head and flinging it away. She's done it too
many times to count this morning.

Draco rests his hand on my thigh and squeezes a bit for comfort.

I suspect Draco is only silent because I am and I'm only silent because I've been on pins and
needles about today.

Maybe I just need to relax.

So I rest my hand on his and exhale, looking over at the man who has his eyes fixed on the
road. "No matter what happens today…we're okay, right?"

His eyes dart to me for a moment, "Of course," And he flips his hand over, entwining our
fingers, "I think everything's going to be fine."
I wish I believed him.

My dad doesn't have a flipping clue who I am; he doesn't know me as a witch, as a loyal
friend, as a logical person, or even as a mum. He sees me as the same eleven-year-old
standing in the kitchen, bags packed, and ready to go to live in a strange new world and he
tries to keep me that way. Innocent. Pure. And unscathed from the world around me. Dad has
never taken the time to get to know the real me, and I'm labeled only by what he thinks he
knows…when he doesn't know a damn thing at all. If only he would take the time to dig
deeper, look inside, talk to me, think of me, and get to know the real me: the girl who is
clever and witty, the girl who gets spells easily, the girl who's had to mature before I was
really ready, and now the woman who is a mother and soon to be a wife.

Underneath these clothes and flesh, I am person, a woman, a witch, a friend, a fighter, a
mum, a fiancée, a daughter, and I have feelings and a heart that has been hurt by him in the
past. And the sad thing is that even now, even after everything that's happened between us, all
I want is his love and acceptance. From him. That's all I ever wanted. To feel like his
daughter. For him to treat me like his daughter. But he's never taken the time to notice me, to
look beyond what he wants to, to try and understand where I'm coming from.

"We're here."

I suck in a deep breath when he puts the car in park, "Its showtime."

"Anything I should know before we go in?"

"Yeah, ignore everything he says. My dad likes to bait people into arguments. Oh, and don't
eat the salad and the…well, just don't eat too much of anything. Just drink a lot of water and
fake it until you make it."

Draco pales slightly. He's never had any of Anne's cooking before-he's up for a big surprise.

I open my car door and I'm about to get out when he says, "Leave your wand."

That's probably a good idea.

Anne greets us with a smile. She hugs Draco first, then me, and kisses Lizzie on the forehead.
She looks happy that we're here and talks about her plans for dinner, to which Draco gives
me a wary look, but says nothing else. After babbling for an hour straight, Lizzie is quietly
looking around, taking in this new environment and looks to be processing every detail about
it in her head. Draco appears to be doing the same thing. I wonder how many times he's been
in a Muggle's home…besides mine. I'm thinking it's a very low number.

Lizzie looks curious…and I find myself wondering for a second if Lizzie can process such
complex things and then I decide not to worry about it.

The house smells like garlic bread and cleaning products, of course. It's a very strange smell;
not very unpleasant, just weird…the house looks weird. The living room looks completely
different…hell, everything looks different, now that I think about it.
"Did you paint?" I ask Anne, adjusting Lizzie in one arm and the gift in the other for a second
before handing her over to Draco.

She nods and starts to explain about using softer colors for better vibes, which isn't exactly
new to me. She did, after all, help pick out a few colors in the house…and is the reason the
office downstairs is a wonderful shade of green. Anne decides to give Draco a tour of the
house and tells me my father is in the living room with this look that instructs me to go try to
work it out.

I snort to myself. Work it out? Please.

Voldemort asking Harry over for tea and biscuits is more likely to happen.

But slowly, I listen…and most of all, I try to stay positive.

It's not hard, well the walking part…not the being positive part.

One foot forward, then the next…and the next thing I know, I'm standing in the living room,
eyes resting on my dad for the first time in over a year. He hasn't changed much, if at all. He's
watching special about the havoc gum reeks on teeth…and of course, he's smacking on a
piece of gum and nodding along with the dentists on television with small grunts of approval.

Yes, he still thinks he can do no wrong.

This is going to be hard.

I clear my throat, bringing attention to myself.

Dad's eyes meet mine and his brow rises slowly. If he's surprised and happy to see me, I can't
tell.

I don't feel comfortable under his scrutiny and I find myself staring at the box in my hand.

"Why are you here?" it comes out in a deliberate sneer.

My head jerks up and the disdain in his voice and the glare in his eyes make me positively
wish I were in a place far away from him. Chile, maybe…preferably southern Chile. Like the
very tip. I'm talking one foot into the Strait of Magellan.

I take a breath before speaking, "It's your birthday…"

He yawns disinterestedly, "So…you missed it last year."

"But I'm here this year." I point out.

"Why?"

"To be honest, Anne asked me to come…and I wanted to see you."

Stubbornly, he folds his arms, "Well, I don't want you here."

I feel like this rage inside of me is on a slow cooker and someone hit the start button. My
shoulders tense and I toss the box at him with ease because deep down I want to throw it at
his head, "It's a hygienic toothbrush holder," I tell him flatly, "I'm sure the last one needed to
be replaced."

He catches it with ease and tosses it absently on the table, "Well, aren't you just the most
caring and attentive daughter," he deadpans and somehow manages to make it come out with
a sneer. Six years ago, Draco Malfoy would've appreciated the amount of talent that must've
taken.

"That I am," I retort, keeping my voice even, despite the rising anger in my chest, "Happy
birthday."

Dad just snorts and looks at the television.

I don't say another word, but there is this pressure on my chest and it's intense, so intense I
can barely breathe, but he can go right on ahead and be angry about the way I choose to live
my life, belittle my views and the way I judge things. He can accuse me for our faulty
relationship, he can accuse me of making things between us strained, but the sooner he
realises isn't just my fault, the better. The sooner he realises I'm trying to fix it, the better he'll
be.

Standing firm in the entrance of the living room, I fold my arms, "I'm not here to fight you,
dad. I just want to talk."

With a press of a red button, the television gets turned off and harsh brown eyes are on me in
a flash, "Well, at least you've made that clear, Hermione."

"That's harsh, dad."

He says nothing and we sit in silence until the program is over.

Dad glances in my direction, "Why are you still standing there?"

"I want to talk. And I'm not leaving," I say with unwavering determination in my voice.

"Just go, just go and see Anne. I have nothing to say to you. Just go, do whatever you need to
do and—" he's cut off when Anne enters the room, holding a gurgling Lizzie.

I watch the anger on his face dissipate and I pick right now to take Lizzie off Anne's hands
and approach my dad.

She goes to tend to the meal, purposely leaving us alone.

Immediately, dad starts to bait, "So, you decided to bring the spawn."

The gurgling stops abruptly; it's like Lizzie knows what he's saying is offensive and mean.

And I refuse to let myself lash out, "Her name is Elizabeth…in honour of mum."
Dad remains silent for a while as his skin pales at just the mention of my mum's name.

He just stares at Lizzie, who in turn, stares back, blinking ever so often. After a minute, dad
gets up and observes her closely, taking in her blonde hair, grey eyes, the way she clings to
my shirt, and how she stares at him with this look of…dare I say it…defiance. I wonder what
she's thinking about right now, She gurgles softly, but it isn't a playful gurgle.

My brow rises.

"How dare you name her after your mother and you didn't even have the decency to make her
a Granger."

This isn't going so well, "Dad—"

"You run off and have a baby and come back after over a year thinking that everything is
going to be swept under the rug. Well you're wrong." he stares pointedly at Lizzie. "You gave
her your mother's name and call it honouring her," he snorts and glares hard at me, "That's
not honour at all. Not when she's a-."

She doesn't deserve this. She doesn't deserve any of this.

Lizzie becomes restless because of his raised voice, but I hold her close, tears welling in my
eyes at the injustice done to such a beautiful little innocent baby girl.

"No, dad," I speak, voice broken, anger swelling. I'm shaking, trying not to explode in rage
and scare Lizzie with my screams, "How dare you. I came here to be the bigger person and
talk to you, try to make up with you, and help us be a family again…and to let you meet your
granddaughter—"

"She's no granddaughter of mine because you are no daughter of mine. I told you not to come
back if you went through with it."

And that statement, right there, just makes my heart crumble into a heap of ash.

Tears fall freely and I stumble back a few steps away from him, wounded like an animal shot
and left for dead in the forest.

I don't know where Anne comes from, but she takes Lizzie, who immediately starts
protesting. I don't know where she takes Lizzie, but I hope it's far.

"Is this—" the tears are free falling, "Is this how you treat the child mum died to have? Is this
how you treat her sacrifice?"

He says nothing.

"I guess so," I shake my head ruefully and my eyes fire to his. "I hate you."

Before I can say anything else, I'm being pulled back into a protective embrace, an embrace
I'm so familiar with. Everything becomes a blur. I can't even stop the tears, I just sob and
fight Draco's arms off of me and still he holds me so firm. I didn't even see him come in, I
didn't even hear him, but he's here, comforting me with soft words I'm too infuriated to hear. I
don't know how, but I end up on my knees, but Draco just comes to the floor with me.

He doesn't move an inch until I go lax in his arms…until we're both taking our breaths in
shaky gasps.

"W-who are you?" Dad's voice is uncertain and he sounds frightened.

Draco's voice is so cold a shiver passes through me, "I'm Lizzie's father and your daughter's
fiance."

"…getting married?" his voice is so soft, almost like a whisper.

"Yes, we're getting married…" Draco spits snootily, "Not like you're going to be invited to
the nuptials."

"Don't waste your breath on him," I speak dully, "Let's just go."

"B—"

I clench my fist, "Just go get Lizzie. I tried, I'm tired, I've been insulted in every way
possible, and I'm finished here. Let's go home."

He pulls us both off the floor and goes to fetch Lizzie, leaving me alone with my dad, who's
gone suddenly pale.

I speak to him, for what may be the last time, "I'm done trying. I'm done."

I stare him down.

"All I ever wanted was for you to love me and accept my decisions. I'm not perfect, I don't
profess to be and I don't aim for it. All I asked was for your unconditional support and your
love and now I realise I don't need it. I already have unconditional support and love. I have
that and so much more in my fiancé, my daughter, my friends, and Anne. I don't need you.
We don't need you. I'd rather spend the rest of my life estranged from you than to spend one
more second in your presence. You disgust me."

Draco appears back in the living room, holding a quiet and docile Lizzie, "Hermione," he
holds out his hand.

I give one last fleeting look to my dad, "Have a nice life, I know I will," and I walk to Draco
and take Lizzie in my arms, hugging her close.

I slip my hand into Draco's and kiss his cheek softly; his hand squeezes mine for comfort.

Anne throws her arms around me, crying and I only drop his hand to hug her. She's
whispering "don't go" and I shake my head. I have to. And she knows it. Anne loves my dad,
she truly loves him, and she's loyal to him, but I can't sit here out of my loyalty to her and let
him treat us this way. She nods, like she knows why we have to go, and kisses Lizzie's head,
letting a few tears fall on her. She hugs Draco last, whispering for him to take care of us and
that she'll see us soon. He nods and takes my hand again.

There are all these things running through my mind as we walk out the door, but the main
thought running through my head is the fact that letting go is so hard, especially if there you
are letting go of the man who raised you from infancy.

I want to say that I understand him and his reasons for being so harsh, but I don't.

I want to say that I'll miss him and think of him, but I must not tell lies.

Part Two: Collision

Forecasters say it's the most rain they've seen this season and it's all so fitting.

The rain is washing the world clean and I've washed my world clean too.

She's sleeping peacefully on the pillow between both of us. I look over at Draco, who's lying
on his side next to me, watching us both with a small smile on his face. We were going to go
to dinner with everyone, but I'd much rather spend the night together, just with the three of
us, listening to the rain fall. He tries to talk about today, but I don't let him.

Some things are better left alone.

Lizzie's little hand swats at something in her sleep and I smile.

"You do that too, you know," he says rather softly.

"What?"

"You move your hands in your sleep…one time you popped me in the face, but I just figured
you were dreaming about third year—"

"Or that day in the coffee shop—"

"Or the first time we had a meeting in the boardroom right after we had sex in it the day
before—"

"Or that time you laughed when Ron told me I wasn't eating for two, but for two hundred—"

"Sweet Merlin, you're violent," Draco chuckles, "I don't know how I put up with it."

I snort, "I ask myself the same thing, except I wonder how I put up with you."

Draco rolls his eyes and pastes a self-important look on his arrogant face, "You're the luckiest
woman in the world to have me as a fiancé…and in two weeks, you'll be the luckiest woman
in the world when I marry you."
My eyes widen and my heart starts to race. He—what—we haven't even set a date! What…
the…bloody hell is going on here?

I wait for him to say 'just kidding', but he doesn't, so I find my voice, "We haven't made
plans," and I start to silently panic over all the things we haven't done, "We haven't found a
cake, no invitations, I haven't even planned out the reception, we don't have wedding colors,
a decorator, I—"

"Do we honestly need all that?" He interrupts, placing his hand on my hip.

Stunned, I just look at him. I always thought he wanted the big wedding with all the fine
things, the wedding of a Malfoy is a big event in the wizarding world. People went nuts when
we announced it. But as for me, I've always wanted a small, modest wedding with my closest
friends and family, "Well…no…not really."

"Well—"

"I haven't even told you about my 'obey' clause in our vows and how I refuse to promise to
obey."

He chuckles. "Like I can ever get you to obey…"

"No, you can't."

Draco absently pats down Lizzie's curly hair, "So we agree…two weeks?"

I thought he'd forgotten, "Draco…two weeks isn't enough time to plan even the most modest
wedding. We don't have a plan," I'm sure he can hear the panic in my voice.

He's so calm. "Since when have we ever had a plan?"

In a bit of a quiet shrill, I tell him. "But we need one this time."

Still, he remains calm. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

Draco smirks. "Then let's do this."

 Seventeen

Part One: You

October 13 th

In one day I won't be a Granger anymore and the thought, while scary and overwhelming, it's
thrilling more than anything. After debating heavily with myself and discussing my options
with Anne and Ginny, I decided to take the Malfoy name, much to Draco's pleasure. I don't
even know why it was such a hard decision, now that I think about it.

Granger is my past. Malfoy is my future and I'm not one for wasting my time looking back.
Granger is the name of my father. I'm doing what I can to increase the distance between us,
not because I'm bitter, no, but because I need it. I refuse to let him hurt me anymore…still,
it's still hard letting go of the past, but Lizzie is a Malfoy and becoming a Malfoy will
eradicate any future confusion…and besides, I do want to be a Malfoy…more than anything.

I can't say that I waited my entire life to become one, no…because that would be a lie.

I can't say I've loved him all my life because that's a lie, too.

I can, however, say that I'm blessed to be where I am and I know it wouldn't be possible
without amazing friends and him.

I used to say that Draco and I, when we're not fighting, we're silent…and sometimes I can
still say that's true, but it's not an uncomfortable silence where he's picking at his clothes and
straightening things and I'm confused, but it's a silence so full of peace and understanding
and one that explains more to us than words can ever describe. The grief and pain, the
fighting and the yelling, happiness and joy, the ups and down…everything we've been
through in the last year and a half, while it's distant in actual time, it's still fresh in our
memories, but we both have grown up so much.

We're better than we were.

We're parents.

He is everything to me, I am everything to him, and we are everything to each other. And
now we're about to exchange promises to love, honor, and cherish each other as long as we
live. I don't regret not one of my moves. Not one. That's what's keeping the smile on my face.
That's why I'm not a jittery bride. Marrying him is another move I will never regret as long as
I live.

"You're beaming again," Pansy breaks into my thoughts, a small smile splayed across her
features.

"I'm happy," is my simple reply.

The small smile grows into a grin. "No one deserves it more than you…now, tell me, red or
clear?" she holds up two bottles to let me choose.

I pick red and watch Ginny crawl after a laughing Lizzie.

"So the cake will be delivered tomorrow morning, all the flowers are already there, the
reception tables are already set up, the entire room where the ceremony will take place is
finished too…" Luna rattles on, staring down at the to-do list I wrote up the night we decided
to get married.

"That's good," I smirk dreamily.

Luna gives me an odd, but slightly amazed look.

I think I've amazed everyone with just how calm I am tonight…

And how calm I've been throughout this entire planning process.

Should I explain why I'm so calm?

I probably should.

You see, last night, Draco and I had out own little ceremony in the living room, just the two
of us, sitting on the floor in front of the fire, Lizzie sitting between us (okay, so maybe not
sitting-she was adamant about crawling away, but that's not important. We opted not to write
our own vows for the ceremony, but instead wrote vows to each other, only to be spoken in
private on every anniversary. Vows that will remain as a secret between us, vows that I've
already promised to uphold until death parts us. If, by some minuscule chance, some accident
happens and we don't get married tomorrow, I can live with what we promised and
exchanged last night.

I've come to the conclusion that weddings are more for the families and friends involved than
the actual bride and groom.

To be honest, if I had my way, we would've eloped last Wednesday and threw a party to
appease everyone. As much as I like being a bride, I don't like being bothered with problems
and issues all day. Let's not even talk about the people who have been coming up to me,
people I haven't seen in years and people who have never really liked me, begging me for
invitations to the wedding. And then they want to get offended when I tell them that only
sixty of our closest friends and family are invited. And almost half of them are Weasleys.

But tonight, I won't think about the planning process.

I won't think about the bridesmaid dresses that look absolutely stunning on them. I won't
think about the floral arrangements and wonder how in the hell they managed to score blue
roses…without magic. I won't think about the weather, not that it matters anyway, we're
getting married inside one of the smaller ballrooms in the manor and the reception will be in
the same ballroom as Ginny's. And I won't think about my dress and how Anne was shocked
that I opted out of wearing a tiara for the occasion, but rather a simple veil.
No, tonight I won't think of anything wedding related.

Tonight I will only think of my friends and how amazingly far we've all come. A year and a
half ago we all were at totally different points in our lives. I was running away from Draco,
Ginny and Harry were fighting and taking a break, Pansy wouldn't know what a serious
relationship looked like it punched her in the face. And Luna, well, Luna hasn't changed too
much in the last year and a half. She's kind of kept everything together.

But now, now, Harry and Ginny are married. Pansy and Ron are in a serious relationship.
Luna and Rolf are getting closer as well. And as for me, I'm getting married to Draco and we
have a family. It's kind of like everything is coming together.

"I think she's out…how did she manage to fall asleep so fast?" Ginny wonders aloud about
ten minutes later, amazed, and looking at Lizzie who is fast asleep on the floor.

"She's not really in her routine." I smirk at Lizzie when Ginny carefully picks her up and
takes her to the nursery. She swats at something in her dreams and tenses up just a little
before relaxing on Ginny, fisting her shirt. Adorable…just adorable.

It's become sort of a tradition now that the four of us spend the night before a wedding
together.

Well, tonight it's the five of us, and we spent the earlier part of the evening sitting in my
living room eating junk food (Lizzie is content with a bottle and gnawing on a couple of
crackers that she takes great pleasure in crumbling into the carpet), watching wedding
movies, chatting, doing each other's nails, and just spending time together. I confess I like
these times best.

"And I'm back," Ginny announces once she returns from putting Lizzie down.

Right now, the movie is off, the food is still on the coffee table, and Pansy has just finished
my nails and I'm observing them with a crooked smile, "Nice job, Pansy."

"I'm an expert, it's what I do," she explains nonchalantly.

"Are you nervous?" Luna, who is done going over last minute details, asks as she stretches
out on the couch. She reaches over and plucks a cookie from the plate and savors it for a
moment before eating it.

"No, not at all," I smile confidently. After all, I know I'm doing the right thing. This is what I
want more than anything.

"I wonder what the boys are doing…" Pansy trails off, pensively looking up at the ceiling.

Draco is spending the night with Blaise, Ron, and Harry in the manor. I never thought I'd live
to see the day that Draco would ask Harry and Ron to be in his wedding party. I knew Blaise
was going to be his best man, my two best friends? Groomsmen? Not a chance. Apparently
I'm wrong about that too. But I'm glad about that because it means a lot for Harry and Ron to
be standing up there with me on my special day. I think that's why he did it because lord
knows, even though they don't fight openly, I'm positive that Harry and Ron aren't "buddy,
buddy" with Draco. No way. Not by a long shot.

I think they tolerate him because of his place in my life and because of Lizzie. I think he
tolerates them because he understands that I come with a package deal named Harry Potter
and Ronald Weasley and if he can't get along with them, then he can't have me.

Ginny smirks. "Knowing Blaise…they're probably out at a bar, drinking."

I snicker. "Boys will be boys, after all."

"Well if they can drink, so can we!" Pansy exclaims, determined, "Ladies, I propose we have
a toast." Pansy sits up, points her wand, and conjures a bottle of wine and four wine glasses.

"Can't," I decline, waving my hands, "Still breastfeeding."

Ginny shakes her head, "I can't—"

My brow rises. Ginny never turns down a drink…unless…"Ginny…are you—"

"Twelve weeks," she blushes fiercely, "Just found out today. Right before I came over."

I grin, Pansy shrieks and clasps her hands together, and Luna scrambles off the sofa.

Together we all crush her in a group hug, excited for her and Harry. She tells us in the midst
of the hug that she'd gotten sick the morning of her wedding and just thought it was nerves. It
wasn't until she gained ten pounds and had backaches that she remembered how I felt right
around the time I found out I was pregnant and decided to go to see a healer with Harry. I'm
surprised I didn't even notice the subtle changes in her, but Ginny looks exactly the same,
besides extra trips to the loo when we're out and a little grumpiness that still fits in to her
regular personality. She even still fits in her bridesmaid's dress.

When we pull away, she's grinning and glowing and flushed and I can't be happier.

Pansy: "Oh my—gosh! Another baby to call me auntie Pansy! I'm so excited!"

Luna: "This is wonderful!"

And of course, I have to say, "Another person who is going to feel my pain about morning
sickness! Yes!"

Ginny snorts and we all sit down in the middle of the living room, "It's actually not that bad
for me, I was only sick that one time…"

"I was sick for three months…some people just have all the luck."

Pansy and Luna giggle.

Ginny just pats my leg, "I'm sure it won't be that bad the second time around."
I grumble and Accio a cookie, "As much as I love Lizzie, I'm on all kinds of potions and
charms to make sure that doesn't happen again, not for a long time."

That just makes the three of them laugh harder.

Fifteen minutes later, they decide to shower me with the wedding gifts they want to give in
private. With a blush and a friendly glare, I receive a Slytherin green lingerie set from a
grinning Pansy…as well as a few more shockingly revealing pieces in various colors. I
happen to like the white one the best, to be honest.

"I'm thinking you should wear the maroon one tomorrow. You know that's his favorite color
and it has the least amount of fabric," Pansy winks.

"Pans, it's practically invisible!"

She just smiles slyly, "That's the point, duh!"

With a smile and a few tears, I receive a scrapbook Luna made from the pictures I used to
chronicle Lizzie's life. Her second gift is another scrapbook she made with pictures of Draco
and I together, a bunch of the four of us, a couple with Draco and Blaise, a few with Harry,
Ron, and I from school, and a slew with various combinations of all of us and Lizzie. I didn't
even know Luna had taken all of these, and I'm touched immensely by her gift.

I trace my finger over one of me and Lizzie.

I'm whispering in her ear, probably telling her to smile because she's grinning in her toothless
glory. And I notice Draco in the background, wearing a small smile on his face.

"Luna, this is one of the best gifts I've ever received, thank you so much."

She just smiles modestly.

And finally, with a gasp and more tears, I receive two tickets to Vienna, complete with
accommodations from Ginny. She wants Lizzie to stay with them so they can practice
attending to a baby's needs and because they adore Lizzie.

Two weeks in Vienna…with Draco. We didn't even plan on having a honeymoon; I took two
weeks off after the wedding simply because I wanted us to be together. Now the vacation
time comes at a perfect time. Sure, it'll be the longest we've both ever been away from Lizzie,
but I think we need the time…and Lizzie will be in wonderful hands.

I think I'll surprise him right after the wedding, "He won't know what hit him."

Pansy and Ginny giggle at the idea and quickly we plan out the execution.

And then, once we're done conniving and I do a little research, we decide to play the "If"
game.

"Okay, Luna, if you could choose to become an animagus, would you become a cockroach or
a flea?" Pansy asks.
"A flea…you see, people live their lives so blind to the things around them that they would
never realize they had a flea on them." Leave it to Luna to be intuitive and deep.

"Good answer."

Luna just smiles, "Hermione, if you could have unlimited access to the Restricted Section in
the Hogwarts library, but had to snog Filch, would you?"

Oh, this isn't hard, "Well, I hope Mrs. Norris doesn't get jealous because I'd be fully prepared
to snog the daylights out of him for that library pass."

Part Two: Forgiveness

Wedding jitters hit me full force as soon as I see myself in the full-length mirror in the left
wing of the manor after Ginny hands me the bouquet of cream and blue roses.

The excited gasps and squeals from Luna, the tears and swoons from Ginny, and the claps
and shrieks from Pansy all seem to fade into the background as I stare at myself.

There is nothing dazzling or extravagant about my dress, just a simple, ivory sleeveless satin
gown with a sweeping train, but it's just stunning. It's tight at the top and flows out just a bit
from the hips on down. My hair is pulled back into a neat and intricate (and tight, thanks to
Pansy's spell, grr…) bun with a few curly tendrils in my face. The veil is attached to my head
under the bun and flows down to the middle of my back. Oh, and of course, I'm definitely
wearing slippers to avoid any blunders on my part. The great thing is you can't even see that
they're slippers. I like that best…that and the limited amount of makeup I'm wearing.

This is real.

Merlin.

And the beautifully decorated bouquet of roses make today definitely real.

I take a deep breath to stop myself from crying.

I'm getting married.

Turning to my matron of honor, I smile brightly, my eyes tearing up because she's close to
crying, "Oh, Gin, I'll start crying if you do."

"I know," she dabs at her eyes, "I just can't stop, pregnancy hormones suck."

I think I know that more than anyone. Luna and Pansy giggle and I shoot a look at my two
maids of honor, telling them to stop laughing, but I can't stop staring at them. They look
beautiful and elegant in their spaghetti-strapped knee-length royal blue dresses with ivory
sashes across their waists, matching heels and jewelry, and their bouquets in their hands. To
be honest, Blaise picked the wedding colors. The man has an eye for style, apparently. The
color is flattering on Ginny and Luna's skin and brings out Pansy's eye color. All of them are
adorning the same hair styles, loose spirals, except Pansy and Luna's hair are held out of their
faces with a beautiful headband that matches their jewelry and a matching comb is stuck
behind Ginny's left ear.

"I think it's time for a few more pictures…" Luna smiles calmly.

Of course, Luna has been taking pictures all morning so it's no surprise that we spend the
next ten minutes taking pictures together.

Anne and Mrs. Weasley come in and after they pull themselves back together and dry their
eyes, Anne takes a few pictures of the four of us together and then I take pictures with both
Mrs. Weasley and Anne.

Little Victorie comes running in, looking simply adorable in her ivory flower girl dress with
her own royal blue bow and little tiara.

She says something that resembles, "Like my dress, auntie 'Mione?" but I really don't
understand her perfectly. She spent a year living in France with Bill and Fleur and has this
accent now. It's not as bad as her mother's, but it's noticeable.

But I do smile, "Of course I do, you look like a princess!"

Giggling, she skips to Ginny and asks her the same thing.

All I can do is smile.

I really wanted Lizzie to be a flower girl of some sorts, with someone carrying her down the
aisle, but she seems more interested in eating the rose petals rather than throwing them.
Actually, now that she's crawling, we've had to coax quite a few things out of her mouth…I
swear she stores all kinds of junk in her mouth like a little chipmunk scavenger.

I chuckle at the thought.

Harry and Ron are the next to come in. Ron is carrying Lizzie, who looks adorable in her
royal blue dress. They're both stammering and telling me I look beautiful and Lizzie squeals
when she sees me. I have to hold her because I've missed her this morning. She's been with
her daddy since we arrived at the manor. After a few minutes of talking to her and telling her
how much I missed her, I pass her to Anne, who leaves with Mrs. Weasley trailing right after
her, chatting about last minute details. It's nice they've become such good friends.

"How's Draco?" I ask, looking at Harry while Ron goes and talks to Pansy. Luna and Ginny
are playing with Victorie's blonde ringlets.

"Actually, he's calm and ready. Blaise is in there talking to him now so we came to bug you."

"Oh, you know you're not a bother, not to me."

Harry grins, "How are you feeling?"

"A bit jittery, I guess I'm a little anxious to get things started."
"Well, there's fifty minutes left until it starts."

"Thanks for telling me that. Anne won't let me keep a watch in here because she thinks it'll
make me nervous."

He laughs, "Well, you don't look that nervous to me…you look happy," his face gets a bit
serious, "Malfoy and I may not be the best of friends, but he makes you happy and he's a
great father to Lizzie, and that makes me happy."

I hug Harry tightly and kiss his forehead, "You're going to make a great father too."

I feel his grin, "I hope so."

A few minutes later I shoo him and everyone out the room to reflect alone.

For what seems like a few minutes, I just stare at myself in the mirror from all angles. I sit
my bouquet down on the vanity carefully and sit down. Fourteen days of planning and here
we are. Less than fifty minutes away from walking down the aisle.

I take a deep breath.

And then another.

Finally, I take a third one.

Okay, I'm good.

There's a knock on the door, "Yes?" I answer.

Blaise sticks his head in, "It's bad luck for the bride and groom to see one another before the
wedding, but the groom is a stubborn git—OW! Draco that fucking hurt, you bastard! You
didn't have to kick me in the leg!" Blaise fires a nasty glare out of my line of vision, leg lifted
as he shakes the pain from his leg.

He points his wand and mutters a spell and I hear Draco protesting quite loudly, "Son of a
bitch! You could've warned me!"

Blaise smiles gleefully, "That's what you get, you bastard."

My giggles end the argument and Blaise fixes his attention on me once again, "Anyways,
sorry about that. I've got him under a spell to render him temporarily blind and if you want
—"

"Go ahead, Blaise. I want." I close my eyes. I've been dying to see him all morning and since
I can't, this is second best.

Blaise mutters the same spell he did before and I open my eyes (at least I think I am), only to
see black. There's some movement and from what I can guess, he's bringing in Draco. I just
stand in place, not daring to move a muscle as I hear their footsteps come closer. The next
thing I feel is his hand that pats my arm, like he's trying to find me, then it slides down and
takes mine. His other hand finds my free one and we lace our fingers together.

"I'll leave you two to talk for a few." Blaise's voice sounds a bit distant; I can hear the sound
his shoes make softening with each step he makes.

I wait for the door to click shut and I slowly pull one hand from his, blindly touching the
jacket of his suit.

"How are you?" he asks softly.

I smile. I haven't seen him in almost two days and I've missed him terribly, "Perfect…and
you?"

His voice is calm, "The same."

My hand travels up his chest, neck, and rest on his cheek where I caress him softly, "Cold
feet?"

There is a shiver in his voice when he replies, "No…you?"

My smile doesn't dissipate, "Never."

His other hand releases mine, traveling up my arm and to my shoulder, leaving a wake of
goosebumps on bare skin. They move up, slowly until he's cupping my face…and then he
pulls me in for a searing kiss. It starts off passionate and tapers off to something more gentle
and affectionate, and when he pulls away slowly, I confess I'm a bit unsteady on my feet.

The door creaks open, "Alright, lovebirds, the charm is going to wear off in a little and I need
another word with Draco." Blaise announces.

Draco kisses me one last time and whispers, "I love you," in my ear before he and Blaise
walk out.

"I love you too."

The charm wears off as soon as the door closes.

Touching my slightly swollen lips, I smile and sit in the chair in front of the vanity and try to
fix my makeup with a wave of my wand. I'm looking at my reflection in the mirror when
there's another knock and I answer with an absent, but giddy, "Come in." Figuring it's
probably one of the girls, I speak, "Pans, I don't think I can do the charm as well as you—"
my voice dies when I look over.

Standing at the door is my father…dressed like he's going to a fucking wedding.

I almost jump up, but Anne slips into the room behind him and shuts the door. Suddenly I
feel closed in and ambushed. All is silent when the door shuts. Anger and betrayal are the
two emotions rising in my chest and I don't think I can breathe.
"Anne? What is this?" I squeak out, barely keeping control of my emotions.

I feel so betrayed, so betrayed it breaks my heart.

"Don't overreact, Hermione. You two need to talk…" she says calmly.

"I've talked. I've talked and talked and tried and tried. I'm done."

He's staring at me with eyes that display a mesh of emotions, such as longing, awe,
nervousness, and a hint of fear. I know he's shocked that I'm getting married. He told Anne
after I left that he never in a million years thought that I would marry the father of my
"spawn". Oh, that just makes my insides burn with rage every time I think about it. I fire a
glare at the traitor and Anne's eyes are on the floor, guilty as charged. And then my blazing
eyes start switching back and forth between them.

Dad takes a step forward, "You look r—"

"Are you purposely trying to ruin my wedding day?"

His voice is softer than I've ever remembered it, "No, of course not. I had my first nightmare
last week and I realised that I can't let my only daughter walk out of my life."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" I ask with no emotion in my voice whatsoever,
but I'm shaking so hard and gripping my wand so tight I'm surprised I haven't broken it…or
hexed him. I'm really itching to.

"Anne told me you were getting married today and I thought you would need you father."

I look at him like he's lost all his marbles. "I can't imagine why you thought that."

"You need someone to walk you down the aisle and there's no one better than your father."

I can't believe he has the audacity to come in here, after being an arse to me all my fucking
life, and decide he's going to walk me down the aisle. He must be out of his fucking mind if
he thinks he's coming near my aisle. This is ridiculous, so ridiculous, I start laughing. That's
right. I burst out laughing, clutching my stomach that's started to hurt. I can vaguely see them
and they're staring at me like I've sprouted branches from my arms, but still I laugh.

I laugh and laugh until it tapers off with a sigh, "You've got to be joking me, right?"

He pops his knuckles, "I'm here to apologize, Hermione."

"Your apology application has been submitted, reviewed, considered, and denied so bugger
off."

He bristles and looks at Anne helplessly before taking a few steps closer, "Look, I know I'm a
shitty father—"

I snort ruefully. "Well, congratulations for that marvelous observation, really, you do amaze
me."
There's a flicker of anger in his eyes, "Hermione, let me finish—"

"Why should I?" I exclaim bitterly, "All you've done is hurt me. I won't let you do it again, I
won't."

Sounding remorseful, "I'm sorry, Hermione, okay, I'm sorry." He stumbles back and calms
himself down before locking eyes with me, "Let me make it up to you."

I'm close to tears, "You can't just up and decide to makeup years of pain, years of ignoring
me, years of making me feel like I'm not good enough, years of saying you'd rather them save
mum than me, you can't undo that kind of damage. You just can't."

"Just let me try. That's all I'm asking. Just let me try," he advances a few steps in my
direction, "For Lizzie's sake," he throws that on at the end in soft tones.

"You don't care about her…you don't even know her."

"I do care and I do know her…Anne was holding her when I arrived. She wouldn't let me
hold her, but I hope that in time she'll trust me again…and maybe in time you will trust me
again too."

Before I can open my mouth, there's a knock on the door.

Ginny sticks her head in, "It's time. Everyone's taking their seats and no offense, but we need
a quick meeting with the bride before the ceremony."

Dad looks at me, his eyes are soft and they try to soften me, "Can I stay and watch my only
daughter get married?"

With a reluctant sigh, I reply, "Yes," because I'm too damn nice.

Part Three: You and Me

To be honest, I don't remember too much after that.

I don't remember Luna's last adjustments to my veil, Pansy's hug, or Ginny's last words
before we all grab our bouquets and slowly make our way downstairs to the room where the
ceremony is taking place. I don't remember hearing the doors open from my spot out of view.

Pansy looks at me, "Are you okay? I heard you and your dad shouting at each other from the
stairs...your dad didn't—"

Of course, I interrupt, not really wanting to discuss the matter any longer, "I'm fine, Pansy.
Everything is great. He's a prick. The end."

I don't remember the flutist and the pianist start playing Bach's beautiful "Arioso" or seeing
little Victorie walk out, throwing cream and blue rose petals amidst all the swooning people
or Teddy, who looks adorable in his suit and royal blue tie, quickly following her, holding the
pillow with the rings on it. I don't remember Luna's final smile before she walks out or Pansy
air kiss before she walks out with a smile on her face.

"This is it, Hermione. Remember what you said to me before you walked out at my
wedding?"

"Umm…don't fall?"

She snickers, "Okay…remember what else you said?"

"Umm…breathe?"

"Yes…just breathe. Everything is going to be just fine. Everything is going to work out."

I don't even remember Ginny's hug before she walks through the open doors. I don't
remember collecting myself and trying to silence the butterflies in my stomach. I don't
remember my hands sweating just a little or gripping my bouquet for dear life, nor do I
remember getting my cue, two thumbs up, and a wink from George who is standing by the
door.

"You look great, 'Mione…too bad you're marrying the ferret."

I would've glared at him, but all I can do is smile.

Yes, I am marrying the ferret and I'm damn happy about it.

I don't remember hearing everyone stand when I appear at the door. I don't remember
anything because as soon as I see Draco and the look of utter awe and wonder that flashes
across his face, everything, the argument with my dad, the sudden nervousness, everything
just fades to dust.

Nothing matters.

I don't hear the wedding march begin and I don't feel myself start to walk. I don't hear the
whispers and the gasps and Lizzie making noise. I don't hear anything. It's like someone
pushed a giant mute button and all I see is Draco in his perfect suit with the blue tie and the
matching vest.

I'm in a zone and when I hand my bouquet to Ginny and Draco takes my hand, all I can do is
stare.

Shacklebot starts talking and I can't stop smiling at the crooked grin on his face.

"…resolve that love not be blotted out by the commonplace nor blurred by the mundane in
life. Faults will appear where now there is entrancement; talents will face into bleaching
experience but devotion, joy and love can grow as you build them together…"

My eyes lock with his, our hands entwined, and I notice his hands are slightly shaking, but I
think mine are too.
"…taught by our own joys, by our own sorrows, by our own failures, we remind you that in
marriage, as in all of life, one who insists on saving his lesser goods and his smaller self shall
miss what's greater, but one who commits himself in devotion to his beloved and in
consecration to their common enterprise, shall find the fullest of life…"

Looking in his eyes, being here, right here, right now, it's like I'm seeing the world from a
whole different perspective.

My world is changing again.

This change is good, a wonderful addition to a wonderful story.

"…loving does not at first mean merging, surrendering, and uniting with one person—it is a
high inducement for the individual to ripen, to become something in himself, to become
world, to become world in himself for the sake of another person; it is a great, demanding
claim on him, something that chooses him and calls him to vast distances…"

Our story, though it may be wonderful, it's far from simple.

It's shrouded with misunderstandings, fights, violence to the extreme, but also love and
understanding and growth. Our story is of the moment…little moments that make up
hundreds of yesterdays and a million more tomorrows. I'm ready for a lifetime of happy
moments. I'm ready for those moments to stretch out into the distance with no promise other
than infinity. And as I recite my vows, I know that I'm ready for it all.

"…the wedding ring is the shape of an unbroken circle, with no beginning or end. It
symbolizes eternity, a never-ending love. Wear these rings proudly for they are symbols
which speak of the eternal love that you have for each other and it marks the beginning of a
long journey together. Now Draco, repeat after me. With this ring, I thee wed…"

He looks straight in my eyes, "With this ring, I thee wed…"

Part Four: The best day

The first thing I do as a Malfoy wife is lock the door to the little library we're in.

The second thing I do is take off my veil, throwing it far away from me. Itchy thing.

The third thing I do is throw my arms around him in excitement.

Draco laughs and hugs me back, lifts me off the floor and spins me around just once before
setting me down on my feet and kissing me deeply.

His mouth is greedy for kisses and I find I'm just as greedy as he is. His lips wander down to
my neck and I groan in appreciation, wanting him to keep going down…but he doesn't.
Damn. Just before things get too hot, he pulls back…showing a display of amazing restraint,
might I add. I'm ready to get down and dirty on the chair in the corner of the room. We
haven't had sex since we agreed on the wedding date and I want him. Right now.
"Let's not get carried away, Mrs. Malfoy," he smirks.

I think he likes the way that sounds.

I don't.

I scrunch up my face, "Oh no, don't call me that. All it makes me want to do is look around
for your mum."

He chuckles, "You have a point there," and captures my lips in another kiss…one that I
reluctantly break to ask him an important question.

"Did you know that Vienna has approximately one point five million people living there?"

He looks at me like I've gone nutty, "Umm…no."

"And did you know that the Schöbrunn palace has one thousand four hundred and forty-one
rooms and was the summer home to the Habsburg family?"

"No…what does this—"

"Oh, and did you know that Prater is Vienna's amusement park and the home of the
Riesenrad?"

He sounds a bit annoyed, "Can't say that I knew that…Hermione—"

Just one more to bug him, "Did you know that while Beethoven lived in his home in Heiligen
Stadt in 1817, he composed his Sixth Symphony and that he lived there in order to be near a
spa he hoped would cure his deafness?"

"What in the hell are you babbling on about Vienna for?"

"Because," I smile and kiss him quickly, "we're going to spend the next two weeks there for
our honeymoon, thanks to Ginny…and we're going to visit all of those places and then some.
I did a lot of research and I hope you know some German because mine is a bit slop—"

I'm silenced with a grin and another kiss. Damn I'm making this "shutting me up with kisses"
thing too easy for him, but I don't mind.

I sink into him, resting my hand on his chest at the same moment I nip at his lower lip. He
growls in my mouth and I definitely can get used to this for the rest of my life…

From the moment we walk into the reception room, I'm lost in a whirlwind.

Wedding photos are taken out in the garden. I spend nearly half of the time laughing at
everyone's antics. Next comes the dinner, which includes the toasts from the wedding party.
Ginny's, of course, makes me tear up. After dinner comes the first dance, which is the last
dance for the both of us because we're definitely not the dancing type and everyone wants to
talk to us.
This leads us to where we are right now.

Socializing.

Yes, we're socializing with the guests who aren't out on the dance floor, accepting
congratulations and gifts that won't be opened until we return from Vienna. Draco isn't
pleased about being forced to socialize, considering he'd much rather hide away upstairs, but
I refuse to let him.

"Oh, Hermione! I can't believe you're a married woman! My babies are growing up too fast!"
Mrs. Weasley sobs.

She hasn't stopped crying since the ceremony began and I awkwardly rub her back with my
free hand and look over at Ginny who's snickering and holding Lizzie. I glare at her. George
had to slip some calming potion into her tea to get her to stop crying long enough to start the
toasting at Ginny's wedding.

I open my mouth to console her, but she cries harder, "Oh, I remember when you were this
slip of a girl, with frizzy brown hair and buck teeth. Now you're all grown up and beautiful…
and married!" she bawls.

Draco tries to suppress his snicker. I glare at him too.

Mrs. Weasley grabs my shoulders and forces me look into her red, teary eyes, "Promise me
that just because you're married you won't stop coming by the Burrow to visit."

"I promise…we'll be there every Sunday for brunch, all of us." I smile.

That seems to console her.

"Congratulations, boy!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, completely thrilled. He slaps Draco rather
hard on the back.

I have to bite back my laugh when he winces and finds the wind that was knocked out of him.
He fires a glare at me and I go and collect Lizzie from Ginny, who is outright laughing now.

"She gave you the, "don't forget about us" lecture too, huh?"

"Yeah," I chuckle and kiss Lizzie's forehead.

Ginny spots Parvati and Lavender and hurries over to talk to them. I wander over to Padma
and Rodger, accepting their congratulations.

I look over at Draco for the third time, maybe fifteen minutes later and find him watching me,
looking a little bored.

Draco barely knows anyone here, besides Blaise and the inner circle. Most of the guests are
here for me; Gryffindors from our year, members of the D.A and the Order of the Phoenix,
Ellis is here and a few people from the hospital are here as well. He's spent most of his time
when I'm not around, talking to familiar people, mainly his aunt, Daphne, Slughorn, and
occasionally I'll find him talking to Blaise, who has randomly relinquishes his DJ duties to
someone else so he can enjoy the reception (and hit on pretty witches, like Lavender, who is
currently single). I'm chatting with Katie and Susan; both are using my wedding as a template
for their own. Their fiancés are talking with Draco across the room and it's probably good
they're over there because they're swooning over Lizzie who just knows she's too adorable for
words and talking about how they want kids of their own.

"I can't wait until Dean and I start having kids. Oh, it must be wonderful to look at Lizzie and
know you and Draco made her," Susan grins dreamily. Lizzie giggles and occupies herself
with trying to remove her headband. Stubborn little thing. Too bad it's charmed to stay on...

Insert evil laugh right here for the smart mum.

"Well, yeah, of course. I can't imagine life without either of them."

"Her hair is a lot curlier now…she's starting to look more and more like you, Hermione, sort
of," Katie observes.

"It's a start," I laugh and look adoringly at Lizzie, who freezes with her attempt to remove her
headband. She looks like a kid who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar…and then
she smiles innocently. I raise an eyebrow. How is it that at eight months old Lizzie's innocent
smile makes her look slightly devious and more like her father?

"When are you two having more kids?" Susan asks, wiggling her eyebrow.

I make a face, "Not for a while."

Katie grins, "Draco was telling Lee that he wanted four kids."

"Draco is delusional from his lack of—" I pause and look at their faces, "He's standing right
behind me, isn't he?"

Susan and Katie burst into fits of laughter and I turn and smile sweetly at my husband…wow,
it feels kind of strange to say that.

Husband. Wow. I just need a moment to let the shock simmer down…

"How much did you hear?"

"Enough," he smirks, "I'm not delusional, by the way."

"You are if you think I'm pushing out four kids."

Draco grins rather evilly and leans in close to me, "Malfoys always get their way."

"Which is a good thing because I'm now a Malfoy too, I think that means I'm getting my way
too, huh?" I smile innocently and kiss him quickly, excusing myself from the two giggling
women. I almost bump into little Victorie, who is racing to the dance floor to dance with Ella
and Teddy.
"'cuse me, auntie 'Mione!"

"It's okay, sweetie, just slow down."

She nods and races off.

I shake my head.

Draco sneaks up behind me and drops a kiss on the side of my head before he whispers, "We
have a flight in three hours," he points to his watch, "We need to be leaving soon."

I nod and Draco takes my hand and we're about to cue Seamus to cut the music so we can
announce that we're about to leave when we freeze in our spots. Lizzie, who has been
giggling and tugging at her headband, stops suddenly and pastes this blank look on her face.

My father has decided to grace us with his presence.

Angrily, Draco mutters something that sounds like, "Unbe-fucking-lievable."

"The ceremony was nice," he pops his knuckles, "You look beautiful, Hermione."

"Thanks, now if you'll excuse us, I have to go find my matron of honor and get ready to leave
for the honeymoon."

"Well, Lizzie can stay with us. I'm sure Anne won't mind…and I won't either."

Draco's eyebrow nearly disappears into his hairline and his voice is about as polite as the
stern look on his face, "We've already made the proper arrangements, sir…and to be honest, I
don't trust my daughter in your care for two weeks, much less two minutes."

I look at Draco and squeeze his hand to get him to calm down, "This isn't the time or the
place for an argument so Draco, calm down," he gives me a pointed look and take a deep
breath. I'm appeased and I frown at my father, "And you...you can't just prance in here and
think you've got rights and privileges."

"I'm just trying to work things out."

"If you want to try and work things out, do me a huge favor and back off. Don't think that just
because I let you attend the wedding that we're all good and dandy because we're not. We're
just not. Now," I clear my throat, "If you'll excuse me, we have an announcement to make
and a trip to leave on." I lead the way to Ginny.

"You're lucky I don't have my wand because if I did I would've hexed him as soon as he sat
his happy arse down before the ceremony," Draco grumbles.

I stop and turn to him, "We're not going to let him ruin our day, okay? I love you."

He nods, "No, we're not going to let that git—" I glare at him. He smirks, "I love you too."
I smile because I always feel warm inside when he tells me he loves me, "Good. Now that's
we've established that, we're going to say goodbye to everyone, grab our bags I've already
packed for us, and head to the airport. We're going to have a great flight to Vienna, and we're
going to check into the hotel room, and—"

"You're going to put on that transparent and silky maroon number Pansy was telling me
about," he flashes a devilish smile.

My mouth about falls to the floor…I can't believe she told him that! I'm going to kill her.
Later.

It takes a moment for me to regain my composure, but I smile a rather evil smile myself,
"Exactly."
 Eighteen
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Six years later

The kitchen is a mess.

At least six cookbooks are strewn around the kitchen, their pages are held by various objects
like spoons, paper towels rolls, various canned goods, and the salt and pepper shakers.

You see, all these cookbooks have similar recipes with a touch of something new and in order
to make the perfect dish I have to pick and choose special ingredients at will. Well, I don't
profess to be the best cook, but I'm not shabby at it…although you would've thought a
tornado and an inexperienced cook blew through the kitchen the way it looks now. A variety
of pots and pans are scattered throughout the kitchen, soiled with the remains of food that has
been haphazardly prepared. The oven is ringing, the phone is ringing, and my cell phone is
vibrating on the kitchen table. Every drawer in the kitchen is wide open and there are various
knives and forks littering the floor and one of the counters. Ingredients are spread all over the
other counter, adding to the mess. The door to the refrigerator is wide open, and parsley
flakes and spinach leaves are scattered on the floor directly beneath it.

In the middle of it all, I stand, tired, half-crazed, with flour on my shirt.

I sigh harshly, clearly frustrated and not to mention exhausted, and yank the oven door open
and move to pull out the pan of lasagna, cursing to myself when I realise I've forgotten oven
mitts. To be honest, I don't think I've cursed aloud since Lizzie makes it quite evident that
she's a human tape-player incarnate.

Amazing, huh?

Instinctively, I suck on my reddened finger for a moment before sliding the mitts on and
pulling out the pan again.

Gently, I sit the pan on one of the clean spaces on the counter and crack a tired, but proud
smile.

My first time making lasagna…ever…from scratch…and I haven't burned it or the house

down.

Pleased with myself, I turn the knob on the oven to cease the incessant ringing, whip out my
wand to clean up the mess and place a charm on the food to keep it warm until dinnertime,
pull out the salad ingredients, and of course, I growl at the two ringing phones.

More than likely, it's Ginny.

She's knee-deep the sea of kids these days with James, who just turned five last month;
Albus, who is about to turn four in tomorrow; and Lily, who will be three in a month. I don't
even know how she has time to call me, but she always makes time.

Finally, I answer the house phone, "Hi, Gin."

She sounds startled, "How did you know it was me?"

Smirks, "Well, besides the caller-ID, the house phone and the cell phone were ringing at the
same time…so what's the emergency?" I notice it sounds rather quiet in her background,
which is odd.

"No emergency, everyone's down for a nap. Harry hasn't gotten home with James yet and
while I'm planning out Albus's birthday party, I decided to call and check on you. How are
you feeling?"

"Pretty good, just tired…I just finished cooking Lizzie's favourite: lasagna…from scratch," I
tack on at the end, looking over at the steaming pan with pleased eyes.

There's a small pause, "I didn't know you could make lasagna."

"I didn't either…let's hope it's nothing like Anne's."

I can hear Ginny's shudder, "Oh, don't even remind me of that horrific day. It took me a week
to get the taste off my tongue and the stains off my plate. How is she? I haven't seen her since
Lizzie's nightmare of a birthday party."

Remembering back three months ago to her sixth birthday party makes me laugh…hard. Let's
just say Lizzie still hates parties and doesn't like attention, at all. Really, she's one of the most
modest kids I've ever known, which is odd because Draco is completely arrogant and I can be
a bit pompous at times. She does really well at all the other parties she goes to and does well
with small groups of friends, but put her in a crowded room and put a spotlight on her and
you will quickly get introduced to irritated Lizzie and it's quite the sight.

It seems that every one of her parties fall into the category: Nightmare. However, this past
birthday party is particularly bad. She spent the entire afternoon sitting on her father's lap,
adorning a birthday hat, a toy, and a very Malfoy frown on her face while all the invited kids
and Helen's (my neighbor) youngest son, Tyler, run around the house, squealing happily.
Tyler tries his best to cheer up the brooding birthday girl, but all he gets for his efforts is a
glare and a rude, 'Leave me alone.'

The scowl doesn't disappear until we bring out the cake and once she gets comfortable, she
even lets Tyler drag her into a game of tag with the other kids.

"Anne is doing great," I reply with a smile, "She and dad are coming over next week to help
out with setting up."

Everything between us…it's not perfect, sometimes he makes me really angry, but we're
doing the best we can. We're family and it's taken a while for me to see that life is too short to
hold grudges and I don't want to regret any of my actions towards my dad in the future…so I
do the mature thing, get over my hurt and anger towards him, and accept his peace offering.

Please believe it didn't happen over night.

Honestly, it happens right around Lizzie's third birthday when he sends her this doll that she
adores. I read the card to her and it says, "Love, grandpa" on it and she spends the entire
afternoon saying, "love, gampa" over and over and I cry myself to sleep that night. I break
down and take her to see him three days later and even though she's wary of him (and still
kind of is to this day), the actual afternoon goes well.

Draco still doesn't like him very much, I suspect he never will, but he tolerates him because
of me and Lizzie…

"Have you and Draco finally picked out a name for the baby?"

I groan.

Draco, of course, is thrilled and keeps on saying, "two more to go" and I just roll my eyes.
He's an idiot if he thinks I'm having four kids. Lizzie, who I confess I'm a little worried about,
is thrilled as well. We bought her a book on how to be a good sister after initially rejecting
the baby, the book, and the idea of being a big sister, I find her asleep in her favorite chair in
the playroom with the book open.

I just know that everything is going to be alright from that point on.

Now she likes to press her head against my belly and talk to him.

Lizzie can ramble on about nothing for hours and I usually let her because it's best for her to
bond with him now.

"Scorpius Ambrosio Malfoy, which is apparently a traditional family name…needless to say,

I'm fighting for anything else…hard. I'll even resort to tears if I have to."

Yes, I'm that desperate.

Ginny starts laughing, "Well…how about Scorpius Alexander Malfoy…that sounds great,
pompous, a bit exotic with the whole Scorpius aspect, but with an ordinary part too, like you
like it…and all the kids can call him Sam, after his initials. It's a win-win for everyone."

That really doesn't sound like a bad plan. I ponder for a moment, "That's brilliant, Ginny…I'll
bring it up to Draco when he gets home."

She clears her throat, "As a real thank you, do you wanna take James for the night? Luna and
Rolf are taking Albus and Lily so Harry and I can set up for the party tomorrow."

Luna and Rolf married two years ago in this huge field of wildflower in the middle of the
summer. It was really warm, not too uncomfortable. To be honest, the day was perfect and I
was proud to stand up there in my yellow bridesmaid sundress. Luna looked beautiful in a
white sundress and a crown of flowers, he wore khaki pants and a white button-down, and
neither one of them wore shoes. None of us did. It was a requirement if you wanted to attend
the wedding. Odd, but still it was very beautiful.

"Okay, that's fine. Bring him on over when he gets home. Lizzie will be thrilled." James and
Lizzie always play well together, that is, as long as we keep them in eyesight.

They both have the tendency to be a bit on the adventurous side. The last time they played
together in the backyard I have to do some quick bone-mending on both of them because they
decide the coolest thing in the world is to climb the biggest tree in the backyard and
accidentally fall out.

"No problem, thank you so much…so, how did Lizzie's spelling bee go?" Ginny's asks.

I feel kind of silly when I shrug, she can't see me. I smirk to myself and reply, "Not sure.
Draco hasn't gotten home from picking her up from school yet…"

After much consideration and a few talks with the Muggle Relations Department of the
Ministry, we decide to put her in a private Muggle primary school and let her live a normal
Muggle life before she goes to Hogwarts. Lizzie knows she's a witch, she's known for the last
two years. Her first accidental magic episode is at the age of four when she makes Teddy's
face break out in these awful warts after a yelling match where he told her that girls aren't
better than boys at Quidditch when she asks her daddy to tell her the rules of the game—
those two still don't get on very much. Teddy always calls her a nerdy know-it-all and she
calls him a troll…you know, one of those toys with the colorful hair. Yes, that kind of troll.
He usually takes offense to that, his hair turns bright red and he storm out the room.

Andromeda always has to stifle her chuckle when they're in the same room.

Cousins…I shake my head.

Ginny breaks into my thoughts, "So I got an owl from Pansy yesterday; she says they're good
and extremely happy and in Belize. She wanted me to send everyone her love and she misses
us all. I think they'll be home in like three weeks or something like that."

After a long engagement, Pansy and Ron finally got married a month ago in this very flashy
ceremony where we're all subjected to wearing ivory dresses and Pansy came down the aisle
in a stunning and totally non-traditional magenta wedding dress. Nobody can keep their eyes
off her the entire ceremony and even in reception, and I think that's the way she likes it. I've
never seen Ron look so happy, Pansy either. They're still on their honeymoon as we speak.
You see, they decide to spend two months traveling the world together.

It's something she's always wanted to do and Ron loves to travel. It's a win-win situation for
them both.

I'm about to reply when I hear the front door open the pitter-patter of little feet heading up the
steps to put her bag down and change out of her school jumper, "Hey, Gin, that's them. I'll
call you back later, okay?"

"Okay."
I hang up and turn to face a casually dressed Draco, who is wearing a small smirk on his face.

Wordlessly, he gives me a kiss and even now I still feel a little woozy and unsteady on my
feet when he kisses me.

"How are you feeling?" he asks softly, hands on my hips.

"My feet hurt," I smirk, "I may need a massage later, but other than that, we're both doing
well."

This pregnancy is a lot easier than Lizzie's, minus the morning sickness, which is just as bad.
I'm just able to do a lot more and the mood swings aren't as bad. Ellis happily brings me a
homemade peanut butter cookie every single day since I announce my pregnancy. Bless her.
Oh, and luckily for Ron or anyone for the matter, I haven't attacked anyone over chocolate.
Although I did have to seriously control my temper when Teddy ate the last peanut butter
cookie last month…and I give Harry a stern glare when he picks up a mini bag of skittles
from the candy dish last week.

He puts the bag down and backs away slowly. He really does have a talent for staying alive.

"That's good…how long have you been home?"

"Since lunchtime, I kind of dropped everything and left. Perks of the job," I still work at St.
Mungo's, but not as a Healer.

After making a suggestion that helped the hospital save millions of galleons two years ago,
they promote me to the head of the finance department of the hospital, which comes with my
own assistant, personally set hours, and the option to work from home if I feel the need to.
"Nice perk," he kisses me quickly again and looks around the kitchen, "You cooked?"

"Yep, lasagna…figured Lizzie may need it today. How was your day?"

"Good. I had a meeting with the board, had lunch with my aunt and Blaise at her house, then
Blaise and I went to Lizzie's spelling bee, and I got paint for Lizzie's room before I went back
to pick her up. She opted for bright pink walls."

I chuckle and shake my head, "Figures she would, Pansy's little fashion clone, that one…so,
how was the spelling bee?"

We pause and listen to her come down the steps.

Uh-oh, she's not running.

He stifles a chuckle and goes to the refrigerator and pulls out some grape juice and Lizzie's
favorite cup, "Maybe you can talk to her, she's really upset and she won't listen to me."

"W—"

"I'll let her—"

"Hi, mummy," Lizzie greets from the doorway, a bit somber. She walks up to me and rests
her head on my stomach, "Hi, baby brother," and then she backs away.

"Hey, love." I offer a smile, hoping she'll grace me with one of hers.

She declines the offer to smile back and sighs. Oh, Merlin, she's sulking…and she's in her
"comfort" pajamas, pink and purple plaid pants and the matching pink top, holding the same
bear Blaise gave her as a baby. She only wears comfort pajamas and holds Mr. Bear (her
name for him) when she feels bad or when it's storming outside and she's afraid. I already
know this is bad, but at the same time kind of cute. I take a moment and observe my
daughter: grey eyes (they never changed), rosy cheeks, curly shoulder-length chestnut brown
hair, sun-kissed skin, and a cute little frown.

Yep…she's definitely brooding. Draco sits a half full glass of grape juice in front of her and
she takes a generous drink and I pull a chair next to her, running my hand through her hair,
"Love, how was your day?"

Lizzie sighs, burying her face in Mr. Bear's head so her voice comes out muffled, "No good."

"Was it the spelling bee?"

She still looks down, but at least she's pulled her head off Mr. Bear's head so I can hear her
clear, "I won…with consang—con—daddy? I can spell it, not say it…" she looks at her
daddy for help.

Draco supplies, "The word was consanguineous…spell it, munchkin."

Lizzie pauses for a moment, thinks, and spells in a dull voice, "c-o-n-s-a-n-g-u-i-n-e-o-u-s."

"Perfect," he tries to cheer her up with a smile, but it doesn't work so he continues, "She's the
youngest spelling bee champ ever at her school," he can't hide the pride-filled look on his
face, "They want to send her to the regional competition, but Lizzie declined."

I just stare at her, dumbfounded, stunned, and most of all proud that my six-year-old beat out
kids who are at least five years older than her, "Lizzie, honey, that's amazing." It makes sense
that she would decline to go to the regional spelling bee, judging from her personality, she
doesn't want any attention on her.

I've considered the idea that Lizzie may be highly intelligent ever since that doctor's
appointment when they tell me that at four months she shouldn't know the difference between
strangers and friends. Ever since, I really don't know what to expect from her and rather than
subject her to a battery of test, I elect to let nature take its course with her. And boy does it.
She literally gets off the floor and starts walking at ten months, talking at a year, building and
designing things with Lego's at eighteen months, reading at two. She can add large numbers
in her head by the time she turns three, multiply by four, and divide by five. She's starting to
understand the concept of algebra and biology now, and Lizzie loves History. Sometimes
Draco and I just sit and watch her in total amazement as she sucks in information with little
effort and I'll confess, for a while there, when she begs me to read The Iliad before bed at the
age of three, I feel lost. I think we both did.
"You should be really proud of yourself, love," I tell her, hoping it'll make her feel better.

"I am," she takes a few more sips of her grape juice.

For a while, Lizzie doesn't seem like a real child to me and I really don't have experience
raising someone who at the age of ten can possibly know as much as I do, but all these
feelings change when she skins her knee on the driveway at five and scream like a banshee,
begging her daddy to kiss it to make it better. She may be intelligent, she may be the smartest
six-year-old I've ever come across, but emotionally, she's still six.

Lizzie likes to play in the rain. She likes eating cookies and drinking grape juice, watching
movies. She likes to draw and play with Barbie dolls, thinks that some boys have cooties,
sings horribly loud in the shower, she stumbles over words, and at the age of two Dora the
Explorer is her hero. Seriously. Granted she can speak more Spanish than I ever will (as well
as French) and she can pick out edible berries when her class goes on nature walks, but still,
Lizzie is first and foremost, a little girl.

And I intend to keep her that way as long as I can.

"How was the rest of your day?" I ask just to promote conversation.

"Okay…" she trails off.

She's already had a rough year.

After completing Year One of primary school, Lizzie's teachers see how intelligent she is and
skip her up to Year Three, which doesn't make her very popular with her new classmates. She
spends the first part of the year getting teased for being a nerd…that is, until Tyler, her best
friend and classmate, threatens to, "slug anyone who calls her a nerd again!" that's a direct
quote from Helen, who chuckles every time we reminisce about that day.

Lizzie finishes the cup of grape juice and sits it down, miserably, "Another, daddy."

I have to suppress my laughter when Draco pours a little more juice in her cup like the
common barmaid. Merlin, my daughter's getting "drunk" off of grape juice. Something
must've gone terribly wrong.

"Well, what's got you so glum, love?"

Lizzie takes another drink and looks up at me, grey eyes swimming with tears now, and then
she opens her mouth rather awkwardly and I see what's wrong.

She's missing her two front teeth…

And now she's hysterical. "They're gone! I tried to put them back in, I promise I tried! I'm so
sorry mummy, I lost my teeth!" Sobbing, she opens her fist and there they are; two pearly
white baby teeth.

I look at Draco with wide eyes.

Lizzie isn't one for emotional outbursts, she gets that from him and to be honest, I'm kind of
frightened to see her sobbing over missing teeth. They've been loose for weeks and I swear
we've discussed it. Apparently not well enough. I sink down to my knees and hug her close,
letting her cry on my shoulder while I rub her back. "Oh, honey, it's okay, I promise. They're
gonna come back," I soothe in a motherly tone, tears threatening to fill my own eyes.

She throws her arms around my neck, sobbing uncontrollably, "That's what daddy said!
Daddy said I was becoming a big girl now, but I-I don't w-w-wanna be a big girl! I just want
my teeth back! The boys at school, the ones in Year Two, they c-called me snaggle tooth, and
I don't w-wanna be a-a snaggle tooth!"

"The boys are just jealous, munchkin," Draco supplies because I'm almost crying with her.

I take over after I calm myself down and when her cries diminish to hiccupping sighs,
"Daddy's right, munchkin…they want to be big boys, but they can't because they haven't lost
their teeth yet and they're jealous because you've lost yours."

"And now you can get money from the tooth fairy," he inputs with a smile.

Lizzie lifts her head and looks at her daddy with teary eyes, "Money? For my teeth?" she
sounds unconvinced.

I nod in agreement with him, hoping he's going somewhere with this. "Yes, you can get a
galleon per tooth, so long as you put them under your pillow before you go to bed tonight."

She sniffles, less sad now and more inquisitive, "But what does the tooth fairy do with the
teeth?"

I look at Draco and he fires back a look that tells me he has absolutely no clue and I'm on my
own. Bastard, he starts this and he can't even finish, "Well, she's building a collection," I
answer weakly.

Now she's no longer sad and is full-on questioning mode, "Why does she need a c-collection
of teeth?"

"It's her job…to reward good girls and boys for becoming big girls and boys when they lose a
tooth."

Lizzie pauses for a second as if she's pondering my words over, "Really?"

"Yes."

"So I get a galleon for each missing tooth?" Lizzie gets this look on her face that kind of
frightens me…it's the look right before she does something crazy.

Like the time she tried to jump from the patio to test gravity or the time Teddy pushed her
down and she skinned her elbow up really bad. Lizzie exacts her revenge by convincing him
later that there's an enchanted pond in the woods behind Andromeda's house, leads him out to
a regular pond deep in the forest, and leaves him to find his way home (it takes him three
hours and Lizzie is grounded for two weeks, which I hear her say to Mr. Bear that it's worth
seeing him look scared like a little girl).

I already know what she's thinking so I decide to cut her off at the head, "Yes, but they have
to fall out naturally and they have to be your teeth, okay? Don't do anything because the
tooth fairy doesn't reward bad little girls."

Lizzie smiles in her missing teeth glory, "I won't! I promise!" she squeals, excited. She hops
up and hugs us both, "I'm gonna go put them under my pillow right now and I'll be a good
girl when I see the troll—I mean, Teddy tomorrow!"

I try to hide my snicker, "Oh, Lizzie, James is spending the night tonight."

"Yay!" she cheers, all signs of sadness behind her, "I'm gonna go upstairs and change, okay
mummy and daddy?"

Draco smirks, "Sure, munchkin."

She grabs Mr. Bear and runs upstairs.

I heave a sigh when she's out of the room and Draco quickly gets up to help me back on my
feet, "I like seeing her happy, I'm used to it…I'm not used to her crying."

Draco runs a hand over his head, "Tell me about it, she was bawling when I got to the school
for the spelling bee. She pulled herself together enough to participate."

"Wait, you're telling me she won a spelling bee while upset like that?"

He replies with amazement in his voice, "Amazing, huh?"

I'm always flabbergasted by Lizzie. "Very."

The doorbell rings.

I get up to answer it with Draco following me, muttering about how I need to sit down and
take it easy.

Rolling my eyes, I pull open the door.

It's Helen and Tyler.

Draco pastes a fake smile on his face. He doesn't really like Helen, he says she asks too many
questions and talks too much, but I think he tolerates her because Lizzie is Tyler's best
friend…and not to mention, Tyler is fiercely protective of Lizzie, proving as such by standing
up to more than a few bullies in her honour.

"Hi, Helen," I smile at her and ruffle Tyler's brown hair, "Hi, Tyler," the little boy grins up at
me with sparking green eyes.
"Hey, Hermione," Helen smiles, "I was wondering if you could do me a huge favor and keep
Tyler…" she proceeds to rattle on about how her mother is sick and she and her husband are
taking a flight out to Virginia to visit and help her out and the older three boys are staying
with her sister's family, but there's no one there for Tyler to play with…and well, you get the
drift.

I'm about to speak up when Draco cuts me off, "It's no problem, he can stay."

Although I don't show it, I'm kind of stunned. "Yeah," I agree with him, "No problem at all.
My godson is spending the night here," I look down at Tyler, "You remember James, don't
you?"

The little boy nods his head with a grin on his face…he's missing a tooth too.

"He'll be here tonight and they're going to a birthday party tomorrow for James's little
brother." I make a mental note to tell Ginny to warn everyone that there's going to be a
Muggle kid at the party.

She looks pleased, "Oh that sounds like loads of fun, huh, Tyler?"

He nods again enthusiastically. Tyler's not much of a talker, which is probably why Draco
likes him. Tyler must've gotten that trait from his taciturn dad, Steven, Draco's only Muggle
friend.

"I want you to be good for Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, okay? Don't do anything…strange."

Tyler nods and smiles, "I won't, mum."

Helen continues to talk, just to give me details. She'll be back next Wednesday and she gives
me loads of emergency numbers, how to reach her and her sister and everyone else in their
family. And then she goes on and on about how happy she is to have such great neighbors
and I have to tell her it's no problem, that we love having Tyler over and that he's one of
Lizzie's best friends.

So by the time she leaves to go get his bags, I'm agreeing with Draco that she definitely talks
too much.

"Tyler!" Lizzie flies down the steps, dressed in play clothes, looking a lot happier, and
launches herself at her best friend.

I guess she gets that from me.

Even though he's a bit larger than her, he stumbles, but hugs her back with equal enthusiasm,
even though they've just seen each other at school, "Mummy! Can we go play in the
playroom until James gets here?"

"Sure, but dinner will be ready soon, okay?"

Lizzie nods, grabs his hand, and drags Tyler up the stairs, chattering about some new book
she read.
I look over and raise my eyebrow at the chuckling Draco, "What?"

"Helen really does talk too much."

"Not going to disagree with you on that, but she'd take Lizzie in a heartbeat if we ever needed
her to."

I shut the door and head back to the kitchen to finish slicing vegetables for the salad. I sit at
the table chopping vegetables while Draco sets the table, we can hear Lizzie and Tyler run
around upstairs.

I smirk, kind of sadly, "I think it's going to be a sad day when she leaves him for Hogwarts."

"Who says that's going to happen?"

I look at him funny, "What—"

"Weren't you listening to what Helen was saying? 'Don't do anything strange.' I knew it. Last
week Lizzie was telling me about her day and she mentioned that when Tyler concentrates
hard and touches a glass of water, he can make the water inside bubble and when he gets mad
he can—"

My eyes widen at this bit of news, "You're telling me—"

"They'll probably go in the same year because his birthday is just a few days late. He'll
probably be a Gryffindor like the lot of you," he rolls his eyes and continues after his face
twists in a sneer. "And I think he knows Lizzie is just like him."

Although she displays some disturbing Slytherin behavior, Draco finally agrees with me that
Lizzie is not Slytherin material. She's not ambitious and doesn't care if she's the best, even
though she usually is. She'll be first non-Slytherin Malfoy…and we think she'll probably be a
Ravenclaw for her intelligence or a Gryffindor because of her bravery; I think he's shooting
for Ravenclaw. He's on an "anything but Gryffindor" path with her and is determined to make
sure our son is a Slytherin.

Right…okay.

"We should probably talk to McGonagall," I suggest, chopping away at carrots, "And get
someone from Hogwarts to come and talk to his family early so they can get used to the
idea…and maybe we can show them that wizards are just ordinary people…aside from the
ability to do magic."

"Do you think his parents will care?"

"I don't think so. I think Helen knows something is different about him and she's proud of
him."

To be honest, I'm still stunned by this piece of information on Tyler. Now that I think about it,
I see what he's talking about. Helen is always telling me how Tyler is special. I remember her
telling me that when he was two, he fell down the stairs and didn't even have a scratch on him
and when he was four, his brother mysteriously broke out in hives after pushing Tyler into a
puddle of mud. Now the water bubbles. All these incidents of Tyler's accidental magic keep
flying through my head. I can't believe I didn't realise this before.

I just keep chopping vegetables until Ginny steps out the Floo to drop James off.

Draco ruffles the little boy's red hair and sends him upstairs to play with Lizzie and Tyler,
rounding out the trio.

Ginny, as tired as she is sometimes, still looks amazing for a mother of three small children.
She doesn't play Quidditch anymore, but works as a reporter for a Quidditch magazine, which
gives her enough time to be home with the kids. Harry is the head of the Auror department
and usually ends his days early so he can spend time with his kids.

She hands me a box with a smile, "I brought you some more slippers."

I put on the slippers and sigh, "It's like walking on a cloud."

"They're charmed to make you feel that way."

"Thank you so much, Gin," I hug her and sit on the couch, "Where's Harry?"

"At the house, setting up for the party. What happened with Lizzie?"

I explain the entire story and Ginny looks torn between wanting to laugh or cry, exactly how I
felt, but in the end we both have a good snicker, she leaves, and after fixing the salad, we all
sit down and eat.

Draco, after swearing not to tell his mum, gets Tyler to concentrate and do the trick with the
bubbles, to my astonishment. James, who just had his first episode of accidental magic, is
excited. After that Tyler is all about showing us what he can do…some of the stuff Lizzie has
actually teaches him to do…I don't expect that one. I'm just stunned, "Lizzie," I brush back
her hair with my hand, "I didn't know you could do that…"

She just smiles modestly through her salad and lasagna…which tastes amazing, by the way.
So worth the hell I went through to make it.

The kids help clean the kitchen and are rewarded with cookies for dessert.

Draco and I convene out on the back porch, while Lizzie reads a book about Greek
mythology and James and Tyler play video games on the sitting area telly. He wraps his arms
around me and I sink back against him, enjoying the warm, spring evening. It's peaceful out
tonight and I find myself closing my eyes. Draco rests hands on my stomach and I smile at
the whooshing sensation.

"You're quiet tonight," he comments lowly in my ear.

I shiver, not from the cold, but from his voice. "Just thinking, that's all. A lot of things have
happened today. Tyler's ability to do magic and Lizzie's ability to consciously do that kind of
magic, it's a lot to take in."
"True, she's going to be amazing…like her father."

I snort. "Please, let's not forget that I'm the most gifted witch of our day."

Draco yawns. "You were a suck-up."

"I was not!" I argue, "I can't help it if I'm better at magic than you."

"Whatever you say, Mrs. Malfoy," he teases with a smirk on his face.

I glare at him. He only calls me that to annoy me, "You're lucky I don't have my wand or else
I'd hex you."

He's still wearing that smirk, "You wouldn't hex me, you love me too much."

I want to keep that glare, but I can't…it turns into a smile, "I suppose I do," he kisses my
cheek and I remember what I need to tell him, "Oh, and before I forget. Ginny thinks we
should compromise and name the baby Scorpius Alexander Malfoy and suggested we call
him Sam because of his initials. Do you like that?"

Draco pauses for a moment to think, "Yeah, I do…I like it a lot, actually," he seems rather
amazed by that fact.

"I do too."

A couple of hours later, Draco sits on the cool tile next to the tub I'm currently relaxing in
after putting the three to bed.

Tyler and James are in the king-sized guest bed and Lizzie is in her room, but no doubt, we'll
wake up tomorrow and find Lizzie sleeping between her two best friends in the guest bed.
We'll worry about the problems that may arise from this later, but right now it's innocent.

"Everyone sleep?" I smile at him lazily, consumed in bubbles.

"Looks to be that way," he murmurs, leans over, and kisses me soundly before he decides to
strip down and join me.

As he massages my achy feet, I feel I have a confession to make.

I love being married to this man. It's not always easy, he can be so bloody difficult sometimes.
Sometimes I really want to strangle him, but I suppose marriage isn't supposed to always be
easy or everyone would get married and stay married forever. And we all know that doesn't
always happen.I think marriage is designed to be hard, crazy, and even mind-numbing, but
it's also designed to be worth it with the right person.

The positives always outweigh the negatives.

It's so worth waking up in Draco's arms every morning, it's so worth pillow fights with Lizzie
to make her feel better after a hard day, it's worth watching her grow up and make friends, it's
worth the foot massages and gaining the weight again with this second pregnancy, it's worth
 the occasional yelling, it's worth giving up my potty mouth, it's so worth everything and
more.

This whole marriage has been one giant learning experience for the both of us. After six years
of it I confess I'm still learning things about him (and vice versa) and even about myself. I'm
still trying to gain perspective on marriage and even relationships and I'm still taking advice
on how to raise a gifted daughter. Not to mention, I'm still recovering from a slight obsession
with perfectionism. After six years, the hoopla surrounding our relationship and how we've
gotten this far hasn't really died down, but they're not as upfront about it and we don't venture
into the Wizarding World too often now that Lizzie is older.

There are things I want to tell her first, when she's old enough. Mainly the story about her
birth.

To be honest, I think everyone in the Wizarding gossiping world is just waiting for us to have
a huge row and divorce, to prove that relationship between the son of a Death Eater and the
brains of the Golden Trio can't work. They want to prove that we're too different; that our
relationship is the plotline to an impossible fairytale; that we're too extraordinary to stay
married for the long haul, much less raise a daughter together. Well, they can keep on holding
their breaths until they suffocate because Draco and I have been through too much to give up
anytime soon. He's important to my existence and I love him more than I've ever loved
another, always have and always will.

No matter what people think, no matter what the gossip columns may sporadically say about
us, we're just an ordinary couple, who live an ordinary life with ordinary friends and ordinary
daughter and an ordinary son on the way. Yes, we have had extraordinary things happen to
us, we've fought in a war and we've fought each other. We're practically celebrities. I've cried,
we've laughed and fought and slammed doors in stubborn rages, but when it all boils down to
it, we're still just ordinary.

We make mistakes, we forgive, and we have good days and bad days and sometimes even
awful days. We're still learning, and still don't have a plan or a clue sometimes. We're still
growing up as people and as parents, but we've got something most people don't. We have
friends and family who'll help us out on our path. I don't think I can't say this enough, but I'm
incredibly blessed to be here and I can't help but realise that if I died the day I had Lizzie I
would've missed so much. I take nothing for granted. I think I understand this fully now and
there isn't a day that passes where I don't think about how grateful I am for Draco who makes
me happier than I can ever imagine, for Lizzie who is the primary reason for all this, for my
friends and family who have helped us along the way, and for the growing baby in my
stomach who represents the future.

We've come a long way from our horrid beginning...

And even though I know we still have a long way to go, I know we'll make it.

Chapter End Notes

2009 Ina Author's Note: And here we are, at the end of another story and I find I'm a bit
sad to let this one go. It had a rocky beginning, but now it's all good. Thank you so much
to everyone who has kept up with this from the very first chapter, thank you all for
constructive criticism and hilarious reactions. Seriously, I laughed at a lot of the reviews.
They brighten my day and inspire me to write more. I hope the ending is good because I
swear this story didn't want to end itself.
End Notes

Author's Note: This is a story about the highs and lows of a relationship, and the unbreakable
bonds of friendship, misunderstandings, and complications. Thanks to MusicalCatharsis for
her beta work.

So, I'm moving over to AO3 in case it gets purged by ffn without my consent. Please note
this story was written in 2008 by a baby Ina (don't judge her) who was just getting her sea
legs in writing and storytelling (hello, growth). Prob more OOC than usual as DH does not
happen in this story and Draco takes Dumbledore's out in HBP and fights for the light. This
will not be edited/fleshed out/changed/altered/anything by present-day Ina. This is a pure
copy and paste effort to centralize my work on a platform that won't delete it and purely done
for readers who enjoyed it. Thank you all.

🌱
Ways to connect:
Ina's Tumblr & Twitter & Instagram & Dazed and Amused FB Group

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