A/N: I've had the honor and privilege of journeying along with LadyKenz347 as she's been writing Sweetly Broken. And really, if you've not read that story, you should. You really should. This is a little something I wrote for LK, to say congratulations for coming to the end of this story. It's a major accomplishment and I'm so proud for you. It's a stunning creation.

Beta love to CourtingInsanity. Endless thanks to LightofEvolution for encouraging me to share this on the internet. All remaining errors are my own.

I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise.


He'd be home soon.

He'd be home soon.

Draco would be home soon.

Hermione counted out three more unseeing blinks before swallowing and shifting in her seat, focusing her vision on the loose thread at the hem of her jumper.

Her throat felt thick with sand and unspoken words and unnamed emotions.

She drifted her eyes over to the open master bathroom door. The rubbish bin wasn't clearly visible from her perch on the bed, but she knew it was on the other side of counter nonetheless. She'd have to empty it before Scorpius came home—he always managed find his way there no matter the lengths she went to lock all doors baring his path.

The Floo roared to life—she'd become sensitive to sound since Scorpius…

Really the war.

Every creaking of aging floorboards in her home until she'd sent her parents to Australia. Every 'Crack' of Kreacher at Grimmauld Place. Every snapping branch those long months on the run.

Every thunderbolt in rainstorms afterwards.

Every time she woke to Scorpius hungry and crying that long first year…

"Hermione? Scorp?"

She drew a shuddered breath. "In our room, love."

Love. Draco loved it when she used that specific term of endearment with him. He shared with her one evening when they were engaged that he'd never believed he'd have the chance of love, that up until fifth year, he'd always believed himself predestined for an arranged marriage.

After he received the Mark and his mission before sixth year, he didn't seem himself living to see his next birthday. Or if by some miracle he managed to survive, no one could ever love him, flaws and scars and all. It was inconceivable.

So Hermione called him 'love' every opportunity she could, and did her best to not ever use it in that sarcastic, talking-through-her-teeth at him tone when they were fighting. Only good things associated with this term of endearment.

"Hello, you." Her husband waltzed through the door, jacket and briefcase in one hand, loosening his tie with the other. "Where's our rambunctious little man? One of those naughty days and he's having a time out in his room?" he finished with a smirk.

"No." Hermione shook her head, a breathy chuckle passing her lips. She dropped her legs over the end of the bed, one at a time, allowing them to sway as they dangled. "He's perfectly fine. Just thought it'd be a good idea for him to have supper with his grandparents this evening."

Draco's smirk broadened, pale eyebrows waggling as his steps morphed into a decisive saunter the rest of the way to the bed. "Oh really?" His voice dropped half-an-octave into what Hermione could only describe as his 'come hither' tone. "And what sort of reason would you have for sending him away for a couple of hours, wife?"

"Not exactly what you may be thinking…" Godric, her tongue was too heavy, and she would honestly rather lose herself in his eyes, his touch, over these next few hours. Anything to prolong the inevitable. She drew a fortifying, albeit shaky, breath. "Something happened, or didn't happen, today, if you want to look at it like that, and it's important enough that we discuss it without interruptions."

"All right…" He'd lingered on the syllables; trusting, yet cautious. "Should I be sitting down or summoning whiskey and glasses for us…"

She shook her head. "No need for that. And perhaps just… stay. Stay right where you are so I can…" Words failed, and she reached out, motioning with her fingers to wandlessly free his arms from their burdens of the workday. Her lips pursed together as her fingers threaded through his and she stared at their twined hands, swaying them softly in mid-air, allowing this small gesture to finish conclude her sentence instead of words…

If only it were that simple for the rest.

"I was late this time, almost a solid week, and I took some pregnancy tests today."

Silence. Not a sound. It slammed into the words she'd forced from her lungs as Draco's fingers tightened around hers.

She gave a thick swallow and floated her eyes up to her husband's startled gaze.

Her fingers squeezed his in return. "I took two Muggle tests and performed the charm just to be certain, if you want to be technical about it all."

"So…" Draco's mouth clamped shut. He cleared his throat once, twice. And tried again: "Are you saying that we… That you…?"

"No."

"No?" His pale brows flew into his hairline as confusion tangled with at least half-a-dozen other emotions in his eyes.

"No," she repeated, sitting that much straighter upright, leaning into his space. "We're not pregnant. But I think it's time we settled this ambiguous unknown with us. I've been fine with it being kept vague and open ended, but today… Love, this may not be what you want to hear right here and right now, but I think I'm done."

The squall in his eyes settled as they bore into hers, giving her the courage to plough forward.

"We have a wonderful son, love. We have our jobs, our family, our routine and schedule. I know he'll go off to Hogwarts someday and that the house will be so terribly quiet without him, but we can finally get a dog then if you'd like. Or more cats. Or we'll take up dancing lessons. Maybe I'll finally have the time for Narcissa to pour all of her gardening knowledge on me…"

"You killed the succulents she gave us as a wedding present."

She loosed a dark, watery laugh. "Right…" She sniffed and dropped their hands to swipe at her brimming eyes. Merlin. When had she begun to cry? Why was she crying? She'd decided this hours ago…

His fingers found her cheeks first. They traced under her eyes several times before he leaned down and pressed his lips to her curls.

It was all the excuse her damn tear ducts needed to unleash the flood she'd been keeping at bay all day. He cooed and murmured sweet nothings into her hair as she threw her arms around his body, taking desperate fistfuls of the back of his work shirt.

It would wrinkle, but…

"My point is…" She gasped, tilting her head, relishing in proximity of him. "I know everyone else wants to have more and more, but I realised today I don't. I love our life and routine. I love sleeping most of the night again, and that we don't have to change ten nappies a day anymore.

"And you've every right to think it's selfish of me, but I wish you wouldn't. I'd like to think I've read all your signals enough, and I… Love, I won't be able to face the masses with this without your support. I need your agreement with th—"

Whatever else she'd planned, or not planned, to say next was lost as her husband captured her lips with his, wrapping her in an even stronger embrace.

It was one of those kisses that still made her toes curl. One that had shivers sprinting down her spine.

Full of promise and love.

Commitment and reassurance.

One of those that still had her panting and fighting back a whimper when he pulled away to speak.

Because he always had to get a word in after an interruption like that.

"You know you still ramble when you're nervous?" The fact that he sounded breathless, too, well… It struck a chord of satisfaction in her chest.

"I do."

"We're more than enough, Hermione." He cupped a cheek again. "More—" kiss "—than—" kiss "—enough." A lingering kiss as his hand travelled to her curls, sinking and making itself a home.

There was a fire in his eyes when he pulled back again. "This is our family and our life. The door has always been open for another for me, but I'm not the one who would be carrying the little bean while he or she grows. If you don't to go through it all again, I could never be upset with you for having that say or opinion."

Miserable, rotten, traitorous, hormonal tears tracked and scalded down her cheeks. "Really and truly?"

A gentle kiss to her forehead that melted her heart. "Of course, love," he murmured in her skin. "I never dreamed I'd be half as lucky. You lot are the family I will never deserve, but I've finally given up trying to justify having. I'm living in contentedness every day, just waking up to my wife and son… And one very irritating kitten."

She let him spend the next several minutes wiping and kissing away every last year, until he made some silly joke that she couldn't help but laugh at.

He laughed with her, a glint returning to his gaze as he looked over her head. "How much longer are we alone for?"

"I started just after lunch…"

"Ah." That smirk returned. "Ironic timing, yes?" She huffed and he chuckled as he moved away, straightening his tie. "Well, perhaps instead you'll allow me to take you to the finest restaurant available without a reservation for the most indulgent food your hormones might crave."

She giggled, running her hands through her curls and slipping on her ballet flats near the bedroom door. "Lead the way, love."