Summary: Hermione Granger didn't expect to conceive a child on the night they defeated the Dark Lord, but she's proud of how she managed to turn her life around. She doesn't expect her carefully laid new plans to be thrown off the rails. Draco Malfoy has lived alone for the past couple of years, but suddenly his family swells, and his house becomes fuller every day as twist after twist hits him. Can they make being a family work?
This is a short story which focuses on Dramione coming together to look after their child, but drama from other avenues quickly catches up with them, making it even harder than it would be to get to know each other in a vacuum!
He may have realised his mistakes and switched sides to protect his family at the end of the day, but that did not in any way, shape or form mean that Draco Malfoy enjoyed sitting before Harry Potter's desk as though he were a misbehaving schoolchild in front of his headmaster. He'd never made friends with Golden Boy, or thought that he was their saviour, but sometimes you had to face necessary evils. Draco's company was experiencing attacks he suspected came from dark wizards, and he didn't want to hire private aurors as he knew the Ministry were still suspicious of his family and it couldn't help. Potter was their head auror and he specialised in this type of situation. Still, he said he needed to go check some records after Draco explained everything he knew. Without Granger here it was clearer than ever that he really didn't know it all. Draco sat uncomfortably in his seat for about a minute, and then he needed to get up and stretch, but just as he started to get up, the door opened and a little squeaky voice cried out for 'Uncle Harry'! Unaware that any of the Weasels had had any children, Draco turned around to see which of the gingers he had the pleasure of being in the room with, only to nearly fall out of the chair he was halfway out of. In the doorway, he caught only a brief glance at the little girl, but she had his pale white hair, the pointed sort of sharp nose, the same pale complexion. He didn't catch sight of her eyes before a familiar woman pushed the girl behind her protectively, out of sight. Instead his own wide eyes flew up to the woman's amber ones that seemed caught in headlights, launching him back in time.
It was all over. So much build up, so much pain, now all that was left was destruction everywhere. Feeling useless sat on a bench with his parents amongst all the crying and laughing and celebrations, Draco got to his shaky feet, wobbling over to a woman lying on the floor clutching her leg. It wasn't a magical injury, it looked as though she'd simply tripped. He knelt down beside her, unsure what exactly to do, but she jerked away- instinctively. He was the enemy after all. Maybe he always would be to these people. "Relax, he's here to help us." The girl did as she was asked and the tension left her body. Draco turned to see who had caused the change, but she was already kneeling beside him, her hair covering her face. Not that it mattered. He'd recognise that bush anywhere. "Press down," she said, he could tell it was directed at him, despite their eyes not meeting. He took over from her pressing down, while she waved her wand to dispel some of the germs, then pulled out a long white bandage, whispering a spell to cut it as she didn't have anything sharp on her. "I took a muggle First Aid course last summer," she muttered in explanation. His eyes remained on her, despite the fact that she didn't look at him, until she finally did and he quickly switched his gaze to the patient, feeling ridiculous and childish. Who was he; an eleven year old child? She wasn't Medusa- looking at each other couldn't do any harm! He glanced back at her as they stood up, and this time their eyes met, making him realise it was the first time. Never before had he actually deigned to look into her eyes. Usually it was down his nose, or when he was drowning in self hatred straight down to the floor. They were brown; not deep muddy brown as he'd mocked her before, but very light, nearly yellowy orange embers. Just as with the eyes, he'd always dismissed her hair as Frankenstein's-monsterish, but in reality it matched them; wild and fiery. Everything about her was so... lionly. People whispered that she should be in Ravenclaw, but as they moved from person to person, he recognised only stubborn Gryffindor determination. Without her, none of them allowed him near them, but when they saw her, they saw the chivalrous heroine of the War.
The Weasel matriarch came up to them and put a hand on her shoulder, "I think that's all we can do for now Hermione, go rest." She gave him a strange look, not exactly aggressive but certainly cautiously protective. With an indirect nod her way, he trailed Granger out of the Great Hall. Only when they reached an alcove did she spin at the speed of light, grabbing him by the cloak and pulling him into it. He felt his face spasm with surprise, it was almost painful after visibly hiding his emotions for so long, to have them jerked out so suddenly like a rug from under him. "Are you following me or what?"
"No I-" it did look that way. Honestly, he'd just been on autopilot, gravitating towards her. "I thought you'd know where we're supposed to... go to rest."
Her expression softened a little, looking him up and down. "Anywhere that's empty and quiet." She peered into the Transfiguration classroom opposite them, then reached out, taking his wrist and gently pulling him into the room. Standing by the door, he felt a little like an intruder, despite the fact that she was the one who'd brought him in. The purply light of dusk shone on her hair through the windows, casting it in a different light than ever before. He took a shaky step forwards, opening his mouth to say something, no idea what, but she spun around and took a few strides towards him, covering his mouth with her own before he could shape a word. Shocked, his eyes flew open, but he instinctually kissed her back, taking a couple of seconds before he pulled back. Why? What did she want? How could she feel this way about him? He didn't say any of that, but she read every question in his eyes. "I- I want to celebrate. To remember what we fought for. The opportunities we have now. We're free, happy. Voldemort didn't understand love, but we won because we have feelings, hearts. I want- I want to remember that we still have that after all we've lost."
There was a logic to her words, emotional as they were. As a Slytherin, he appreciated that. As a bully, he never would have touched her. But as the new him, there was something telling him to just do it, that this was what he wanted. In that moment she wasn't the mudblood bint he'd always thought of her as. Something in the light, in the way they'd worked as a team in the Great Hall. How she'd eased people's physical suffering and their fear of him. He wanted her to do it for him too. This time he was the one who grabbed her leg, hoisting it up and kissing her like he hadn't kissed anyone in- actually he hadn't kissed anyone in any way for a long time. Her leg was covered by skintight jeans, discoloured by blood and dirt. His shirt was as well, so she pulled it off, throwing it on the burning fire. It was what he wanted too, to be rid of anything carrying connotations of the battle. Unzipping her jeans, he pulled them off for her as she removed her shirt with the bloodstain the size of a remembrall, kicking off her shoes. Kneeling gazing at them, there was something captivating about her legs, but Granger laughed, jerking his head up with a careless hand to the area she wanted him to focus on. Her breasts didn't remain covered for long, and soon she was shouting his last name in a way that was exorbitantly pleasant, not berating or shrill for the first time.
As soon as she saw the ghost in her best friend's room, Hermione pulled Abi behind her, heart thumping like an African drum. Her daughter immediately went silent, four years old but as smart as her... and him, she supposed. Him. She'd never wanted to accept it, when Ron had yelled at her for cheating on him she hadn't said his name despite all the pushing, only emphasised that she'd never been unfaithful, they'd kissed once beforehand and gotten together for a flashing brief period afterwards. "Mummy," whispered the familiar little voice, tugging gently on her arm. She was trying her hardest not to look into his eyes, but it was impossible to miss the sharp intake of breath, confirmation of what he must have already known when he saw them. "Who is that?" Hermione squeezed her daughter's hand, casting her eyes reluctantly over to Malfoy's. More than anything, she wanted to grab Abi and apparate out of there, but her feet felt glued to the floor even without a spell to keep her stuck. She was glad his eyes weren't the same as Abi's, but they haunted her none the less. The confused foggy cloud shifting to a steely grey as his walls went up; reminding her of the night that changed everything.
Both breathing heavily, the two war survivors fell back onto the desk behind them. Hermione shut her eyes, smiling as the remnants of pleasure vibrated throughout her body. She stretched out her hand, lacing it into Malfoy's gorgeous blond mop and leaning in to kiss his cheek, but he turned his head at the last minute- not to kiss her on the lips but to turn entirely away. She withdrew her hand, giving an involuntary gulp and immediately wishing she could take it back. "Thanks for the test ride Granger," he said flatly, staring at the flames. "But I don't want to buy the broom." She wanted to slap him, but that was understandable, right? No, he wasn't any good at sensitive phrasing, but she'd said before that she just wanted to feel something with someone again, she hadn't asked him for anything more. This wasn't how long term relationships started. Still, her lip quivered as she stretched for the right words, and eventually settled on the stupid sounding "right," accioing her clothes and disappearing down the hallway. He didn't call after her and she didn't come back, either to him or to Hogwarts. When she found out she was pregnant she couldn't stand the thought of people changing her monicker from the Brightest Witch of Her Age to the most Banged Up, ignoring her potential and skills. Instead she transferred to Mahoutokora, working her arse off and taking her exams early in January, less than a month before she gave birth. She loved it in Japan and they were admiring of her multitasking rather than scathing, so she'd moved a country over to raise her daughter, nevertheless still unable to avoid the papers plastering Malfoy across them whenever they could as their sex symbol and business icon with his father's company. Not that she could blame them.
Crashing open through their tiny bubble, Harry turned all their heads to him as he tumbled into the room with a stack of papers, surveying them quizzically. "What in Godric's name is going on here?" Hermione tipped her head towards him, her eyes pleading for help. "Come on Little Miss Abigail, there's a new flavour downstairs!" The Ministry had a secret cake shop only for employees that her daughter loved to visit almost more than seeing her uncle whenever they came her. Her favourite was sticky toffee, which magically glued itself to the roof of your mouth, exemplifying the flavour, for about 90 seconds, making Abi beam widely whenever she tasted it. There was another for adults only, a version of spotted dick which no, did not contain real male genitalia, but did give you that brand of satisfaction! Abi put on a strong pout, but Harry grabbed her hand, promising a delicious/disgusting new Bertie Bott's milkshake as a side for her cake, shooting Hermione a look that said he expected a full lowdown later on. Abi also cast her a curious look as the door shut behind them, leaving the room thick with tension. Malfoy raised a questioning eyebrow, and she cleared her throat of what felt like a bludger fluttering around inside it.
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