PART 3: Something Beautiful in Return.

Someone asked me if there would be more to this story and my answer was definitely no, and I didn't really give it too much more thought. But while in the midst of another WIP, my subconscious acted up and this little one-shot forced its way into being.

A huge THANK YOU to coyg81 for reading this and keeping its existence a secret xx

***** HERMIONE *****

"This again?"

The exasperated tone in his voice made me flinch and I kicked myself; I should have left well enough alone and not poked the bear.

His hands went to his hips and he stared at me, standing so completely still it was like he had suddenly turned to stone. I waited for him to say more, but he said nothing, and the silence grew heavy as he continued to stare at me.

It was a conversation we'd had many times over the last year, however, this time I may have pushed too far. He was annoyed and trying to hide the fact - as he always did - but I knew by the expression on his face that his annoyance far outweighed his actual care to hide it.

We stood staring at each other for what seemed like forever, the already heavy silence growing even heavier with each passing second. His lips parted, as if he was going to say something, but closed again pressing tightly together.

"Draco—" I began but he held up his hand silencing me.

Something strange flashed in his eyes, a look that I hadn't seen since our school days; ice-cold and standoffish, and I saw that his annoyance was quickly becoming anger.

"We've talked about this." He said quietly, almost coldly, "We've talked about this more times than I care to count. And every time we talk about this, I tell you that I don't want it. And, as it always does, my answer remains the same."

Taking a deep breath to sooth my nerves, and to calm my racing heart, I pushed gently. "But surely this is something you want. It has to be. You want your family name to carry on, right?"

"Just stop," His jaw tightened and he inhaled deeply through his nose. "I've told you more than a million times, I don't give a shit about my name. You changed your name. Granger wasn't important enough for you to keep, so why would you think Malfoy would be any more important to me?"

"Draco, I changed my name by choice. And Granger isn't the same as Malfoy."

"It is if it's preceded by the name Hermione." He scoffed, "Malfoy is dirt compared to Granger."

"Draco, come on, you know that's not true. The Malfoy name has been in the wizarding world for so many generations I'm sure most people have lost count. I don't want it to end with you."

"So, you're saying that my daughters aren't as important?" He said, glaring at me with that same cold look. "You, of all people, think that maybe because they won't carry my family name forever, that they're less important to me than having a son who will?"

"Of course I'm not saying that," I felt my own surge of annoyance that he didn't understand what I was trying to say. "I know the girls are important, more than important. And I know how much you love them—"

"Then you also know that I have everything I have ever wanted," he interrupted me again. "I have you, and I have two little girls who are my entire world, why would I want anything more than that?"

"Draco—"

"And what if we do have another baby, and it's a girl? Do we keep going until we have a boy, even if that means we have a dozen or more children just so you can satisfy this crazy notion you have that it's what I want?"

"I don't mean—"

"No, Hermione, this ends now." He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair, jamming his arms into it and shrugging it over his shoulders. "I won't hear another word about this. I've given you my answer, and that answer is no."

He stormed out of his office before I could say another word, leaving me staring after him in his wake.

My body stirred, beginning to wake up and my brain wasn't far behind. But I refused to open my eyes, wanting to stay in that place of dreams for just a bit longer.

I rolled over, reaching my arm out, seeking his warmth, but found none. The sheets where he usually slept were cool, telling me that I was in the bed alone, and had been for some time.

He had come home much later than I had, had played with, and read to, the girls before telling me that he would put them to bed, making me wince at my own assumption that they weren't enough for him. He had then headed further up the stairs, closing the doors to the third-floor room, and I had to strain to hear the quiet sounds of the piano as he played.

I had wanted to talk to him, but I knew there was no point, not right then in any case. And I knew that he wanted to do the same, but he needed to clear his head, and the piano was still how he managed his anger.

So, I had let him be, not wanting to stir up any more anger than I already had. He had told me so many times that his name meant little, but I hadn't truly believed him, and inside my head I had told myself that he while he certainly loved and adored the girls, he would definitely want a boy to carry his name.

But I was wrong. So very wrong. His girls were all he wanted, I could see that now. The cold stare in his eyes, the hurt in his voice, and his anger at my assumption, all twisted in my gut and made me finally realise how stupid I had been. After all of our years together, after all our years of him being completely open and truthful with me, I still doubted him over this one thing, and it was the one thing I was completely wrong about.

I had gone to bed alone, lying awake and waiting for him for what seemed like hours, before drifting off for the first time in a long time without him beside me. I had woken drowsily when I felt the bed dip, had gone easily when he pulled me to him and curled his body around mine. I had held my breath, waiting for him to say something, but he remained silent, dropping a kiss to my shoulder and just holding me until we both dropped off to sleep.

But now I needed - no, wanted - him near me. Wanted the warm feel of his skin, wanted his arms wrapped around me, wanted his scent surrounding me. Wanted to let him know just how sorry I was.

Forcing my eyes open, I squinted in the dark, trying to focus on the numbers on the clock beside the bed. 4.12am it read. A perfectly logical time for it to be, but with the sleep fog still clouding my brain, 4.12am made no sense.

It was too early to run along the beach, and the lack of noise coming from the bathroom indicated that he wasn't in there. I continued to lay there, closing my eyes again, listening for sounds in the house, but it was quiet, and I felt myself drifting again.

Groaning, I told myself to wake up, that something was clearly wrong, and that I needed to get my arse out of the bed and find out what it was. I dragged my eyes open again and pulled myself to sit up, grabbing Draco's hoodie from the end of the bed and curling myself into it.

I walked down the hallway, stopping briefly at the first door and checking on Charlotte. She was sound asleep, her arms raised above her head, sleeping in the exact same way she had since she was tiny. The newest member of our family was curled against her legs. Our rough coated Jack Russell terrier Sadie looked up at me, curious as to what the interruption was, but didn't leave Charlotte's bed. She had been with us for almost a year, and despite the best efforts all our parts, the little dog had taken an instant liking to Charlotte and barely left her side.

Moving further down the hallway, I looked into the second bedroom and noted that the bed was empty. I frowned, slightly, and headed down the stairs. It was far too early for anyone to be up, even our children were late sleepers on weekends, so I couldn't imagine what was going on.

But when I reached the bottom of the stairs, my heart leapt. Draco was sprawled on the couch with our four-year-old half draped over his chest. Both were snoring lightly and looked completely content.

Tip-toeing across the room, I smiled at them. Their blonde hair was identical, and if their eyes were open, the grey hues would be the same. And just like Draco, our little Amelia was quiet, and thoughtful, and intensely determined.

I was slightly concerned, however, that while Draco was wearing sleep pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt, she was dressed only in a singlet and pyjama shorts. The fire was lit and the room was warm, and despite the fact that she was like me with her love for the cooler temperatures, I hated for her to be cold when she slept.

I reached carefully across them, meaning to pull the fleece throw over them, but Draco stirred.

"Hey," I whispered, "Is everything okay?"

He shook his head, "No, she has a fever."

Kneeling beside the couch, I gently touched her forehead, gasping quietly at how hot she was, and realising why she was dressed so lightly. She was burning up and he had done exactly what he needed to do to try to cool her down.

"I didn't hear her," I said keeping my voice low and running my hand across her back, trying not to panic at not hearing my ill child waking up. "When did she wake?"

He shrugged one shoulder, "I woke at about three, and she was in our bed."

"Did you give her something?"

He nodded, "I tried a pepper-up potion, but she promptly threw it back up all over me."

I clapped my hand over my mouth, stopping the laughter that almost burst out and would have surely woken her.

"Do not laugh." He warned me.

"I'm not laughing." I said, pointing at my face, but grinning nonetheless. The man who was once squeamish and hated any kind of illness, was now the one who was instantly at our girls' sides if they even sneezed. He was so amazing with them, so protective, so caring, so adoring, but our daughter throwing up on him was way too funny to not laugh.

Amelia stirred on his chest, her eyes blinked open heavily, and she looked at me. I smiled at her sleepy face, staying quiet, hoping she would drift straight back, but instead she gave me a tired smile.

"Hi sweetheart," I cooed at her, "How do you feel?"

"My tummy hurts," her little voice was dry as she croaked the words out.

"I know," I leaned forward and kissed her hot cheek.

Draco tightened his arm around her and ran a soothing hand along her back, "Does it hurt more now, or do you feel a little bit better."

"Feel yucky," She croaked and then shivered, burrowing herself deeper into Draco's side.

I tucked the blanket around her, but she shoved it away.

"Too hot, Mummy," she shivered again, and her little face scrunched up, looking as though she was about to cry.

I lay my head on Draco's chest to look at her and brushed my hand through her hair, "It's okay sweetheart, you don't have to have a blanket. Is Daddy keeping you warm?"

She nodded and her face softened, "I got sick on Daddy."

"I know, Daddy told me, but he doesn't mind." I smiled at her and kissed her nose. I felt Draco pinch my hip and I squirmed, "Do you need some water?"

She shook her head, her eyes drooping closed again. I stroked her cheek gently until her breathing slowed and she was out again.

"Go back to bed," Draco whispered as I moved to sit in the oversized armchair.

"I'm awake now, I'll be fine here." I curled my legs under me and he smiled.

"Hermione," he said gently, "There's not a lot you can do here, and you'll just be uncomfortable sitting there. It's too early to be awake anyway, so go back to bed."

He was right. There was nothing I could do other than sit and watch them sleep, and I was truly exhausted after a long week at work and after our disagreement the previous morning.

He ran his palm along my thigh as I walked past. "Alright?"

I stopped and looked at him and our daughter, smiling at the two of them. I knew that he loved his girls and would move the earth for them if they asked, and I felt even stupider for thinking it wasn't enough for him.

"Alright," I said, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his mouth, "I'm so sorry."

"I know." He cupped my jaw, pulling my mouth back to his and I smiled against his lips as his hand moved to the back of my thigh, sliding up to the curve of my arse.

"What are you doing?" I murmured, lifting my head to look at him.

"Just rueing what I missed," he smiled back up me as I frowned in question. He glanced at Amelia, then back up at me, "My three o'clock wake up was supposed to involve you and some hot make up sex, not little miss here vomiting on me."

I chuckled quietly and kissed him again. "Lucky she's so cute."

He squeezed my thigh once more and then hugged Amelia even closer to him, "Adorable."

I pulled the blanket over them, and then ran my fingers across his cheek.

"Adorable," I agreed.

I was woken with a wet lick on my cheek. I heard a giggle and then felt a furry head rest on my shoulder. I reached my arm up and patted the scruffy fur that was ticking my skin, "Good morning Sadie."

She let out a quiet bark, and I opened my eyes. Charlotte was smiling brightly at me and Sadie was wagging her tail happily.

I pulled Charlotte to me, toppling her over and making her laugh, "Morning, baby."

"Where's Dad?"

"Where's Dad?" I tickled her ribs, "Am I not good enough?"

I'd given up on being insulted whenever they asked for Draco. The girls adored him, he was their hero. And they were his princesses. I dared anyone to get near them while he was around. I already felt sympathy for the men that might be in their futures.

She wrapped her arms around me and kissed my cheek, "You're the best Mum ever."

Sadie's bark told me she agreed.

"Thank you, baby," I brushed Charlotte's sleep tangled hair from her face, "Dad is downstairs with Amelia. She's not feeling well, so he slept on the couch with her."

She made a face, "Blergh. Did she spew?"

I laughed. Charlotte may have been my clone with her curly hair and dark eyes and her ability to sit and read for hours, but there were similarities to Draco as well. They were subtle, but they were there.

"She did actually." I widened my eyes, "All over Dad."

She looked at me, horrified, and then cracked up laughing. "Did Dad spew too?"

I laughed with her, "No, but I think he was pretty grossed out."

"Can we still play on the beach today?"

I nodded. "Of course. Dad can play with you and I can stay up here with Amelia."

"Oh," she said sounding disappointed. "Dad always plays with us, I want you to play too."

Our girls loved our beach. It was a rare weekend indeed that we didn't spend some time down there, even in the middle of winter. Draco was always encouraging the girls to join him, and they would often meet him halfway down the beach and run alongside him as he finished his final loop on the sand.

The wild storms that came rolling in were a favourite of both the girls. They loved to watch out the windows as lightning flashed across the night sky, and as the rain battered the coast. They were much braver than I was, storms still terrified me, which of course delighted them both. That mummy was scared of rain and thunder amused them to no end, but the snuggles on the couch as they comforted me were worth their teasing.

And I still loved it. I still called it 'my beach.' I still found the crashing waves comforting. I still like to walk barefoot on the cold, wet sand. I still loved the wind as it whipped around my face, and the salty tang of the sea air in my lungs. And Draco still always knew when I needed some space and wanted to be down there on my own.

But my most favourite thing now was to hear the laughter and the squeals of delight that would float up the cliff as the three of them played on the sand. And I loved nothing more than to sit at the bottom of the steps and watch the three loves of my life run, and jump, and kick water at each other, and wrestle, and build sandcastles. And with the addition of Sadie, who would bounce around, barking at them all, my something beautiful had become so much more.

But now, my baby's face made my heart sink.

"Oh, baby," I cupped her little face, "Of course I'll come and play. I'd love nothing more than to do that with you. Dad can stay up here with Amelia."

Her face brightened. "Please, can he? Because Sadie and me want you to play today."

I bit back my instinct to correct her to say 'Sadie and I,' and looked at the little dog who was resting her head on her paws, watching and waiting for us to tell her we were going down to the beach.

"What do you think, Sadie?" I reached over and scruffed her head, "Do you want to go to the beach?"

***** DRACO ******

"Daddy? Can you tell me a story?"

I was outside on the deck with Amelia. My little girl hadn't left my side since she'd woken up on my chest several hours before. She was still warm, and another attempt to get her to take another potion ended with her vomiting again and left her in tears.

I had wanted to take her straight to St Mungos, but Hermione - in the calm and sensible manner she had - told me that childhood fevers and upset tummies were perfectly normal and that Amelia would most likely be fine after a day or two of rest.

So, we were sitting quietly on a lounger, she was still curled against me, a light blanket covering us both from the cool breeze that swirled around. I had wanted to stay indoors with her, I didn't think that being outside in the cold air would be good for her, but after a small meltdown that had her in tears again because she couldn't play on the beach, I compromised. We would sit on the deck, with a blanket and watch Hermione and Charlotte.

Our youngest was rarely sick, despite a tough start in life. She had been born ten weeks early, and the feeling of not being able to protect and help her had been crippling. Our now four-year-old had been tiny and fragile, and I had been too afraid to even breath near her, and the guilt of leaving her in the hospital everyday had almost been too much to bear. But our little fighter did exactly that; she fought, proving she was exactly like her mother and that her tiny body was stronger than I had truly realised.

But now, with her cuddled against me, her skin too warm, I felt helpless once more. And I hated being helpless with my girls. I wanted to protect them always.

I leaned my cheek on the top of her head. "What story do you want to hear?"

She giggled, "The bad story."

I grinned and then made my voice sound surprised. "The bad story? Are you sure? It's not a very nice story. Maybe since you're sick, I should tell you the good story."

"No daddy," she giggled again, "The bad story is the best one."

I let out an over-exaggerated breath. Charlotte and Amelia both loved the 'bad story.'

"Well, okay." I shook my head and put on my best sad face when she looked up at me, but she simply giggled again and insisted that I tell her.

"Do you know what a Hippogriff is?" I began and she nodded against my chest.

"It's a eagle horse."

I nodded, "That's right. And do you know who once had a Hippogriff?"

"Big, giant Hagrid."

I chuckled, "Yes. Big, giant Hagrid had a hippogriff named Buckbeak."

"And you were very mean to them, Daddy."

"You're right, I was." I kissed the top of her head, "Daddy deserved what happened."

"What happened?" She asked, knowing full well the story. Uncle Harry had told them often enough, but apparently it was much better coming from me.

I tickled her gently and she squirmed, laughing, which I took as a good sign that maybe she was starting to feel better. "Daddy wasn't being very kind to Buckbeak and made a very rude comment. I told Buckbeak he was a great, ugly brute and, rightfully so, Buckbeak wacked me one."

"Poor Daddy." She squeezed her little arms as tightly around me as she could.

"Poor Daddy indeed," I agreed. "I had blood, and I had to go to the hospital wing, and I almost died."

"Uncle Harry says you just pretended."

"Uncle Harry tells lies." I said.

"No he doesn't, Daddy," she looked up at me and shook her head. "Uncle Harry didn't tell a lie. You just pretended."

"Well, maybe Uncle Harry told the truth. Maybe I pretended I was much sicker than I really was, and maybe I tried to get Hagrid sacked and Buckbeak taken away."

"And what did mummy do?"

I looked down at Hermione and Charlotte as they splashed in the icy water while Sadie barked happily at them both. What did mummy do? This was the best part.

"Well, mummy was a hero. She tried her best to find out the truth and she saved Buckbeak and Hagrid."

"Not that part." Amelia grumped, "What else did mummy do?"

"Well, mummy went to all the classes at Hogwarts because she had a time turner. She studied very hard and she loved going to school. It's why she's so clever."

Amelia sat up and looked at me with an expression so full of disgust it was like looking in a mirror.

I laughed, "Daddy said that Hagrid was pathetic and he was ridiculous for crying. And Mummy didn't like me saying that. So, she punched my face and called me a foul, loathsome, evil, little cockroach! She was very rude and very mean to Daddy."

Amelia burst out laughing. "No, you were mean, Daddy. Not Mummy."

"I wasn't that mean."

"Yes, you were." She snuggled back against me and I wrapped my arms around her.

"Yes, I was," I agreed and looked back down to the beach. My other girls were on their way back up the stairs, Charlotte in the lead, talking a mile a minute, while Hermione followed behind her, laughing and carrying a drenched-looking Sadie.

I smiled. I was surrounded by women - forceful, determined, confident women, and it was a fact that I loved.

Marrying Hermione Granger had been some sort of undreamt dream. She was - and always would be - the love of my life. She was as amazing as she ever was, she was perfection itself, she was my everything. My brilliant, sexy as hell wife, with her ability to still ignite my heart with nothing more than a simple glance.

She was incredible at her job, taking our business from a simple group of young up and comers, to a well-respected potions company. The greenhouses now numbered four, and she and her ever-expanding team of Herbologists were growing enough plants not only to cover our needs, but she was now able to supply other potion makers across the globe.

But the no nonsense businesswoman was left at the office every day, and the second she walked in the door of our home she became the calm and patient mum our girls adored. Nothing ever seemed to faze her. The rare tantrum she handled with ease; scraped knees and bumped heads never bothered her; coughs and colds were a breeze. Whereas I would panic at a sneeze. I had barely let anyone near Amelia when we finally brought her home from the hospital after she'd spent the first two months of her life there, and when Charlotte, at just three years old, tripped down the stairs and broke her arm, it was me who had to almost be sedated.

And, of course, our two girls were forces in their own ways. Charlotte was just like Hermione. Practical and sensible, curious and inquisitive, but the occasional streak of temper when something frustrated or confounded her was all Malfoy. Her tantrums were rare, but when they showed up, it was like a hurricane tearing through the house.

Hermione was always patient and calm when the tantrums arose, but she was also smug, looking at me with a face the told me that I deserved my six-year-old's Malfoy traits.

Amelia, however, was the opposite; quiet and observant, thoughtful and reserved. She preferred to stand back and let her sister have the limelight. The big sister whom she adored and followed everywhere.

Becoming a father was the proudest accomplishment of my life. My two daughters were my world. They were a never-ending source of joy and laughter. They were also a never-ending source of stress and concern. I constantly worried about every aspect of their lives – after never having thought another person would ever be so important in my life – and it actually hurt to think of anything untoward happening to them.

Hermione, of course, teased me about my constant hovering, telling me repeatedly that they were both Malfoy and Granger, and that meant they were well equipped to handle anything that the world could possibly throw at them. And while I agreed, it didn't change the wild whirlwinds of emotion that had become my life since they both arrived in it.

"...and Uncle Charlie said I could definitely chase dragons with him, because Melody doesn't want to. She wants to work with Fleur and make clothes."

Amelia sat up, her eyes lighting up at the sound of her sister's voice. But I was laughing at Charlotte's mild disgust.

Melody Weasley, Pansy and Charlie's daughter, born just three months after Charlotte, was completely besotted with her Aunt Fleur - the Veela heritage played its part, I was sure - and Charlotte couldn't understand why anyone would be interested in making clothes when there were dragons to be studied. The pair were firm friends, having grown up together, but they were polar opposites. Charlotte loved nothing more than to go to the greenhouses with Hermione and get her hands dirty. And whenever Charlie visited, she barely took a breath, peppering him with all manner of dragon related questions. Melody, on the other hand, was artistic and creative, and preferred to be neat and tidy - which was quite a shock to both her parents.

"...well, I think learning about dragons is a very wise choice," Hermione was saying, making me laugh even more - she was never one to miss an opportunity to encourage our girls to learn. "And it's also perfectly fine if Melody wants to make clothes with Fleur."

"Whatever, mum," Charlotte's head appeared over the top of the stairs, and I could see the look of incredulity on her face. "But I think it's boring."

Whatever? My six-year-old was saying, whatever? James Potter might be answering some questions the next time I saw him.

"Maybe to you it's boring, but it's something that both Fleur and Melody love. Besides, you can always chase dragons with Silas."

I caught Hermione's eye as they climbed the last few steps and scowled at her grin. Silas Zabini. My daughter would not be chasing dragons with boys. And certainly not any with the name Zabini attached to them.

Hermione smirked at me, knowing exactly what I was thinking, and put Sadie down on the deck, and she instantly shook her wet fur.

"No, Sadie!" Amelia squealed, holding her hands out to stop the droplets of water from splashing onto her. "Daddy, you need to dry her."

I looked at Hermione, who rolled her eyes - her insistence on not using magic for everything still stood - but she nodded in agreement. I picked up my wand from the table beside me and pointed it at the small dog, who almost shivered in anticipation. A blast of warm air shot out over her, her fur ruffling and drying almost instantly. She barked, and jumped up onto the chair with us.

"Yay, Daddy." Amelia clapped her hands and then hugged the little dog tightly, "You're very good at magic."

"Brilliant, actually," I said with a grin and Hermione snorted a laugh, which I ignored, "What are our afternoon plans?"

"Well, to start with, Charlotte and I are going to both have showers to warm up, and you two," She pointed at Amelia and I, "are going to make popcorn so we can all watch a movie."

The big-screen television had been a welcome addition to our living room. I hadn't understood it at first, but Hermione, as patient as ever, had explained it to me - how it worked, and that the people hadn't been shrunken and cruelly shoved in there - and now weekends were filled with muggle movies which fascinated both myself and our daughters.

They headed inside, Hermione pausing at the door to look back at me, biting her bottom lip, more from nerves that we'd not spoken about our argument the previous day than anything else. But her enormous brown eyes stirred my insides in the way they always did, and the same thought flashed in my mind.

She's mine, all mine, and she would be every day for the rest of our lives.

And those lives were sometimes chaotic, sometimes peaceful, a mess of work and children, tantrums and arguments, and the pure serenity of our perfect existence on our beach. But no matter how much we sometimes clashed, she was my wife and I loved her like madness. She'd changed me. She'd made my life infinitely better.

I smiled at her, nodding at the door. We would talk, but we had an afternoon to kill with our girls before we did.

"Daddy?" Amelia whispered, looking past me as Hermione disappeared through the door, the Slytherin cunning sparkling in her eyes, "If Mummy isn't watching, can we make magic popcorn?"

I lifted her as I stood, crossing the deck and both of us peered into the window, ensuring Hermione had gone upstairs. We both grinned and our reflections grinned back at us. "Magic popcorn, it is."

**** HERMIONE ****

I leaned one shoulder on the doorframe of our bathroom and smiled, watching him as he stepped out the shower and began to dry off. He had finished the day with a run along the beach, just as the sun was dipping below the horizon and both the girls were yawning with the exhaustion of doing nothing all day.

He smiled at me in the mirror, "They're asleep?"

"Out cold, both of them." I smiled back, holding his gaze for several moments, before scrunching my face up when he wrapped the towel around his waist, deliberately hiding his perfect arse from my view.

"You don't play fair," I whined and then pouted.

He was still watching me in the mirror as he picked up his toothbrush and pointed it at me, "And when have I ever played fair?"

I stepped up behind him, sliding my arms around his stomach, and kissed his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Draco."

He ran his hand along my arm, but didn't respond. Instead, he began brushing his teeth, taking his time and making me wait, letting me know that there was still some annoyance lingering.

We'd spent yet another day of our charmed lives sprawled in our living room, doing very little but watching movies, eating junk, and snuggling on the couch, with Amelia's bear-like snores - as she drifted in and out of sleep - making the three of us laugh. It was just another Saturday with our girls, no different really from every other Saturday, except for the uncertain vibes that seemed to be passing between Draco and I.

We'd fought, we'd argued, we'd disagreed over the course of our lives together - of course we had, we were both too stubborn and headstrong to sometimes not want to give an inch - but those fights were rare, and when they did occur, we had always talked it out, never, ever leaving things unsaid for as long as we had this time.

I pressed my forehead between his shoulder blades, knowing that I deserved his ire. I had pushed too far this time, hurting him with the archaic beliefs I had once accused him of, but never thought I held.

"You already said sorry." He said, pulling my arms tightly around him.

"I know, but a whispered sorry in the wee hours while you look adorable with our daughter sleeping on you isn't really a proper sorry." I pressed my lips to his warm skin, "And we need to talk about this."

He sighed and turned to face me, flipping my hair over my shoulders and wrapping his arms around me. "Hermione, why do you keep asking about this? You know that I don't want it. Why do you keep pushing the issue?"

I shrugged, "You give so much of yourself to me, and to the girls, I guess I just want to give this to you."

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful here, but giving me something I don't want isn't giving me anything at all." He frowned slightly and cupped my jaw with both his hands, "Are you sure this is about me? Or is it something that you want?"

I opened my mouth to respond, to tell him no, but snapped it shut again. Was that what this was? Was I pushing him because it was something I was wanting?

"Baby, you need to figure out what this is about, because if it is what you want, we have to discuss this properly, instead of you just making flippant comments and me getting pissed off." He kissed my forehead, "Another baby is a huge deal, you know that, and the two that we have were stressful enough, I don't think I could go through any of that again."

His honesty hit me in the chest, twisting my heart. The two years it took to conceive Charlotte were two of the hardest years of our lives. Heartbreak and tears were a monthly occurrence, as were the heated arguments. And the devastating fear that children might not be a part of our future was something that we had both had to come to terms with.

And the stress of Amelia's early arrival was something I could never have planned for; there was no way anyone could have warned either of us as to how difficult it would be. Having a healthy baby was terrifying enough, but it had been heart-shattering to watch her each day, constantly being monitored, being feed with a tube, and - on more occasions than I cared to remember - struggling to breathe.

The stress and anxiety of it all fell heavy over me, and I realised that, like him, there was no way I could go through all of that again.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and admitted, "I don't think I could go through all of that again either."

"Are you sure?" His hands gripped my hips, pulling me closer, and I nodded. "So why did you think I wanted more?"

I shrugged, "Honestly, I just assumed you would. Isn't that what all fathers want? A son to carry on their name?"

He laughed, "Have you met James Potter?"

"He's the one known as The Terror, correct?"

"The very one." His hands moved from my hips to my arse and he sighed, "Hermione, I don't need a son, I don't need anything more than this. I love you more than anything, and those two little girls? They are my everything. You all are."

I exhaled and nodded. "And I get that, but I just worry that you'll regret it later."

"I won't," he said firmly. "And no more worrying, or discussions about this. We're settled, yeah?"

"Settled," I agreed and I touched his cheek, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"And now, since the girls are asleep and it's just you and me..." He lowered the zipper on my hoodie - his hoodie, the one I had been wearing all day - and dropped it to the floor. He covered my lips with his and turned us around, lifting me onto the counter, and stepping between my thighs.

"In here?" I asked, pulling back from his mouth and moving my fingers up to his neck, lightly stroking over the spot behind his ear that I knew made him purr.

"It's been a while." He ran his thumb across my bottom lip, hissing out a breath when I took it between my teeth, biting down gently. His pupils dilated and his nostrils flared, and with a click of his fingers, my t-shirt disappeared in an instant.

"I should never have taught you that," I laughed. "It's far too convenient for you."

"Very convenient." He agreed, his hand sliding to the small of my back, his fingers dipping below waist of my sleep shorts, cupping my arse and pulling me closer. "And convenient is good."

The towel, slung low around his hips, and the thin fabric of my sleep shorts were all that separated us. I had been bra-less since showering after spending the morning on the beach with Charlotte - our lazy Saturday on the couch meant lazy right down to the skin. And now, the bra-less convenience was exactly that. Convenient.

He leaned down and lifted my breast to his mouth, catching my nipple between his teeth and biting down lightly. I gasped, leaning back on my hands, grinding myself against the growing hardness beneath the towel.

Kissing his way to my other breast, he slid both his hands under my arse and pulled me forward and off the counter. I landed on already shaking legs, pulling the towel away from him as he pushed my shorts down my legs.

Lifting me back onto the counter, he leaned in and kissed me with a hungry growl, the sound making my toes curl and my heart race. His mouth was hot and commanding, and I knew instantly that this would be hard and fast - the hot make up sex he had intended in the early hours of the morning.

Leaning down, he attacked my breast again, and my breath caught as he slipped two fingers between my thighs. I squirmed under his touch; he was right, it had been far too long since we'd done anything as reckless as this.

Sex before the girls had arrived was certainly so much easier. It had been spontaneous - whenever and wherever we wanted. Now it was planned, always late into the night when we knew they were asleep, but even then, it was always with one ear listening for little feet in the hallway.

But right now, the sound of footsteps was the last thing I cared about.

His face was buried in my neck and his fingers were stroking me slowly up and down, spreading the wetness. My skin was already ultra-sensitive and I was unbelievably aroused. But that was nothing new with him.

A touch on my shoulder, a quick kiss in passing at work, a simple smile. That was usually all it took for him to turn me into a puddle of goo. But this, this, with his hands touching me and with his mouth on my throat, this was what I would always need with him. The knowing way in which those magic hands danced over my skin, heating my core and causing a delicious friction was something I knew that I would never tire of.

His mouth moved up to my cheek, to my temple, tracing his tongue around my ear, his teeth biting down gently on the lobe. His thumb brushed firmly over my clit, sending a jolt of heat into my spine.

Then he did it again. And again. And the hot sensation in my spine slid lower.

I dug my nails into his shoulders, gasping, as his fingers slid inside me, pressing deep and still stroking slowly. I was so fucking close, my body already fluttering around his fingers, while his thumb continued to tease my clit. I dropped my head back, groaning, squeezing hard around his thick fingers and flying over the edge. He gripped my hip, steadying me, not stopping his movements as my inner muscles contracted and spasmed and another wave of pleasure crashed over me.

I slumped back against the wall, my lungs gasping for air, and he placed his hand over my thumping heart.

"Fucking hell," he said and I opened my eyes to see his grinning face, "I don't think I'll ever get used to seeing that."

He leaned in, replacing his hand with his lips, and kissed my chest. I reached my hand down, wrapping my fingers around him and squeezing hard. He groaned against my skin, his teeth biting down when I ran my palm over the very tip of him.

"You can see it again," I said, still slightly breathless, and wrapped my free hand around his wrist, pulling his fingers from my body. "You know exactly what I like."

He lifted his head from my chest, his eyes dropping down to where I was rubbing the tip of him over the slickness that his fingers had just caused. I sat up and gripped his hip, pulling him closer, guiding him into me, and we both watched as the head of his cock slipped just inside me and then stopped.

I was about to protest when he lifted my chin to look up at him, and he leaned in, kissing me softly. I smiled into the kiss; this man. In the midst of what I assumed was going to be hard and fast, he still managed to surprise me with a softness that so few people saw.

"Maybe I should take you to our bed," He said against my lips, pulling his hips back and sliding out of me. "Maybe I should I lay you down and make slow love to you."

"No," I whined. "I want you right here."

He pushed into me again, just the tip of him, teasing me. "But the bed is so much more comfortable."

I growled. "Draco, if you don't fuck me right now, I'll…"

He grinned, "You'll what?"

"I'll…I'll…" I stammered and then gasped when he cupped my arse in both his hands, dragging me right to the edge of the counter and sliding all the way inside.

"You'll shove me away?" He rolled his hips, a slow, deep plunge filling me completely, "You'll tell me you don't want me inside you?" His hand traced along my ribs, curving around the underside of my breast. "You'll tell me you don't want me touching you?"

He slid back out of me in a perfectly controlled slow movement, letting me feel every inch of him moving through me.

"No," I breathed, running my hands through his hair and pulling his face to mine, "I want your hands on me. I want you inside me.

He pressed his lips against mine, catching my lower lip between his teeth, before diving in to kiss me harder, deeper, and I couldn't help rocking my hips toward him with a hungry need, groaning when he slid deeper inside me.

"Hermione," he growled against my mouth. "Fuck."

And it was all the warning he afforded me before rolling his hips once more and surging forward, thrusting hard and deep. Our hips slammed together, and the feeling our bodies being joined so perfectly, of him fitting me just right, crashed over me, as it did every time he was rough and possessive.

His fingers dug tightly into my thigh, and his hips crashed into me, harder, faster, fucking me deeply, a harsh grunt leaving him with every thrust. My clit burned, sparks of pleasure jolting through me as his pubic bone ground against me with each crash of his hips. My pussy ached, stretched around the thickness of him, clenching, wanting more, deeper and harder, faster.

And he knew.

He clutched me to him, wrapped my thighs around him, and fucked me, touching all those places that sent me into a spin.

Every thrust hit me hard, wild and untethered, and unlike anything we had done in months. And for one heavy, gasping moment in time, it was just the two of us; his body inside mine, his hands on me, holding me and keeping me safe.

And giving me everything I needed.

Teasing me, tormenting me, drawing out of me and holding me in that place where pleasure was just out of reach, only to plunge back in, burying himself deeper.

I held him tighter, riding him higher, faster, harder, until I couldn't take it anymore. My heartbeat pounded through my entire body, and I dropped my head back, crying out, not caring if I was heard. Convulsions took over my body, rolling through me hot and fast, throbbing in the place where he was moving between my thighs.

"Hermione," He growled, "Hermione, look at me."

I dragged my eyes open, meeting the fire burning in his, and I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to watch him.

I held his eyes with mine, reaching down between us, touching my fingertips to the length of him and feeling him move. He groaned, losing his smooth rhythm, becoming rough and raw, driving into me in sharp jabs until his body went rigid, his cock swelled, and the heat from his body spilled into mine.

His forehead pressed against mine, his eyes still burning, his cock still pulsing inside me with the aftershocks of his orgasm. I curled my arms around his shoulders and slid my hands into his hair, loving the feel of his body shuddering, of the sigh of contentment that wafted across my face.

"Ten years," I whispered and he smiled. "Ten years and you can still make me feel like it's our first time."

Draco's lips pressed gently against the back of my neck and I let out a tiny sigh, my body was fighting between staying asleep or waking and letting him have his way with me again. We were still naked, pressed together, his arms wrapped around me holding me close. I reached my arm up, sliding my fingers through his hair as he dropped kisses to my shoulder. He grunted as I pressed back into him, and he moved against me, hard and ready and pressing heavily against my arse.

His hand slid up my body to cup my breast and as he began to squeeze, a tiny cough had us both freezing. My eyes flew open to see Amelia sleeping beside me.

I felt Draco shift behind me, lifting his head from the pillow, and peering over my shoulder, "Shit," he whispered, "When did she sneak in?"

"Fairly certain we would have known if she was here while we were..." I trailed off

"Fucking like teenagers?" Draco whispered against my ear.

I snorted, "Yeah, that. So, she's probably not been in here long. But you need to go and do something…" I wiggled my rear against him, eliciting a faint groan. "…about that, she doesn't need to wake up and see her daddy at...full attention."

Draco groaned, and slid away from me, and I rolled to my back, watching as strode into the bathroom, almost laughing when I heard the water turn on. If our daughter in our bed wasn't mood-killer enough, a cold shower at three in the morning definitely was.

I sighed and leaned over the edge of the bed, grabbing Draco's t-shirt from the floor and pulling it over my head. I snuggled back under the covers, watching my little girl sleeping. I brushed an errant strand of blonde hair from her face and pressed a kiss to my baby's still warm forehead.

I smiled as she scrunched up her face in her sleep, rubbing her hand across her skin where I had kissed her, then rolled to her back, her arm suddenly flinging out and barely missing my face. It was days like the one that we'd had that I cherished. Just the four of us – plus Sadie – with nothing but the beach and the quiet and the sounds of the girls giggling. Draco was right; they were simply our everything. And now, laying here and watching Amelia sleep, I knew that I didn't need anything more.

The bathroom door opened and Draco stepped out, this time wearing boxers. He smiled as he crossed the room and gently slid back in behind me. He curled around me, propping himself up on one elbow and resting his chin on my shoulder.

"What are you thinking?" I whispered.

"I still can't believe that we made her." He kissed my shoulder, "Her and Charlotte. And this perfect life we live seems too good to be true."

"Perfection is not what you want?" I joked.

He pinched my hip, "Perfection is exactly what I want." He reached over me and pulled the covers over Amelia, "And you three are the beautiful perfection that I got."