One reviewer pointed out that I accidentally entitled the Prologue as Epilogue. Thanks for catching my mistake! Hope you enjoy the chapter.

Chapter 1
The rocking chair squeaked as Draco fed Gemma her midnight bottle. Her bright brown eyes shut as she suckled; one small hand tangled in her dark brown curls. When she spit out her bottle, Draco shifted her to his shoulder and patted her back lightly. The house was quiet except for the occasional gurgle from the eight-month old baby in his arms. He looked up with the nursery door squeaked quietly.

"Hey, I was just coming in to check on her," Hermione murmured softly. "Everything alright?"

"We're fine, Granger. Go back to bed." He stood and paced the room while rubbing Gemma's back until she fell completely asleep.

Hermione moved closer. "You need to hold her a little higher," she advised. "Otherwise, when she spits up it'll be all over your shirt instead of just your shoulder."

"I said we're fine," he stated through clenched teeth. A scowl set on her face, Hermione turned around and exited the room. Draco watched her go and looked down at Gemma. "Your mummy must have really hated me." Gemma gurgled once more and let out a sigh as she slept close to his chest. Gently, he placed her in her crib and left.

The next morning when he awoke, he immediately went to the nursery to check on Gemma. Panic set in when she wasn't in her bed. "Granger!" he called as he ran down the stairs. "Granger, I can't find Gemma!" He was out of breath by the time he reached the sitting room. He breathed in deeply several times at the sight before him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she said quietly. Rising slowly from the couch, Hermione offered him a small smile. They closed the distance between them, and she handed Gemma to him. "I'll make breakfast."

Draco screwed up his face in disgust. "Please don't. I'm really not a fan of your charred toast."

She transferred the spit rag to his shoulder and laughed. "I was thinking cereal today. The cold kind so you don't have to worry about burnt porridge or anything. And I have a meeting at work that I really need to attend, so something quick would be best."

He watched as she walked away from him and entered the kitchen, the door swinging back and forth behind her. It wasn't until she called out that breakfast was ready, that he moved. Two bowls of cereal were set on the table with a pitcher of milk in between. Hermione had just set down a pot of tea before taking her seat.

"Well, tuck in," she said in her best impression of Molly Weasley. "You don't want your cereal getting...soggy."

One chuckle later, Draco placed Gemma in her high chair and set down a handful of dry cereal for her to munch on. "I think she got another tooth yesterday," he informed Hermione, around a mouthful of breakfast.

"That's three now, isn't it?"

"Four."

Hermione let out a small "hmm" and finished off her breakfast. "I should get to work. I'll be home around five," she informed him. When he didn't acknowledge her, or even look away from his cereal bowl, she scowled and left for the floo.

Minutes later, she stepped out of the grate and into the Ministry Atrium. After a two month sabbatical following the arrival of Gemma, Hermione was glad to be back at work. In the weeks since her return, questions about her unusual arrangement with Draco Malfoy had finally begun to die down. Loaded down with messages and files in her arms, she entered her office and shut the door.

"Morning."

Glancing up in shock, she caught sight of Harry Potter seated at her desk. "Harry, you scared me. How many times must I ask you not to be in my office when I'm not here?" she inquired indignantly.

He flashed her an apologetic smile and vacated her chair. When they were settled into their respective seats, Harry again smiled at her. "How've things been at home?"

Hermione snorted at the thought of "home." Just before Gemma had been placed in their custody, Draco had bought a two story, three bedroom house without consulting her. It was a nice enough place to live, but life with Draco Malfoy would never be easy for her. "It's fine," she decided unfeelingly. Harry raised an eyebrow, telling her that he didn't believe a word she said. "Every time I try to hold Gemma, or check on her, or, heaven forbid, ask about her, Draco goes into this weird panic. Take this morning, for instance. He woke up and came running down the stairs saying he couldn't find her. Like someone had broken in and kidnapped her. He's gone mental."

"I kind of expected you to be that overprotective, don't let Malfoy touch the baby kind of parent," Harry replied with a chuckle. "It's weird to think that Malfoy can pull himself away from the mirror long enough to watch her."

"Oh come on, Harry. He's really quite good with her." The tone she spoke with was defensive, coming as a shock to both parties. Taking a deep breath, she tried a different approach. "Draco and Pansy were friends for a long time. They grew up together, and even you have to admit you thought they'd end up together. After the war, or maybe even before the war, they had some kind of falling out. I think he just feels bad that he wasn't around when Pansy went through everything she went through."

Harry leaned back in his chair and whistled. There were a few more cracks he wanted to take at Malfoy's expense, but held his tongue at the sight of the enraged look on Hermione's face. "So he's taking this parenting thing pretty seriously then." The brunette nodded as she toyed with the hem of her robe sleeve. "So then what's bothering you?"

She released an impatient sigh, wishing they could put an end to this particular topic of conversation. Finally, she answered. "He's better at it than I am." Harry let out a loud laugh as she narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh for goodness sake, it isn't funny, Harry. He hardly even lets me near Gemma. Probably afraid that my mudblood germs are going to rub off on her."

"I'm guessing there's no need to ask how things are between the two of you then," Harry joked, running a hand through his dark locks. Receiving a glower that could maim, he held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, sorry. No more bad jokes. Have you considered talking to him about this? About how you feel? I know he's not the most considerate of blokes, but maybe he'll understand."

"Not bloody likely," Hermione grumbled. "I have to get to a meeting. You know the way to the door."

It was closer to 9:00 when Hermione finally, tiredly stepped out of the floo. A single candle burned on the coffee table, giving the room an eerie glow. There was no noise, no footsteps causing the hardwood floors to creak, no running water to signal to her that Draco was still awake. Setting her purse and work bag down on the couch (a habit she knew would irritate Malfoy), she made her way up the stairs to the nursery. The soft melodies of the spinning mobile above the crib played as Gemma slept. Hermione stood over the crib and watched the little girl breathe in and out. "Sleep tight, little one," she murmured, tracing a finger over her soft cheek before leaving the room.

The nursery was in between two bedrooms; the one on the left was Hermione's and the one on the right Draco's. Briefly, she considered going in to check on him too. Part of her thought it would be a good time to get things out in the open between them as far as Gemma was concerned. But she had a sickening feeling that he would be mad at her. Four hours late and no notice to him would surely try his patience with her.

She was standing in front of his closed door, poised to knock, when he opened it. The sudden action caused them both to jump back in surprise. "What do you want?" he asked, pressing the heel of his hand into his tired right eye.

"To talk," she said quietly. "Sorry if I woke you."

He shook his head. "You didn't. I thought I heard Gem."

"I was just in there. She's fine." Her words were terse and rushed. "Can we please talk?"

With a sigh, he stepped around her and made his way down the stairs to the living room. The lights were turned up when she joined him. His long legs were propped up on the coffee table (a habit he knew would irritate Hermione) and his eyes were closed. Uneasily, she settled herself on the opposite end of the couch.

"So, talk," he broke the silence with his irritability.

"Sometimes," she started, fidgeting with her joined hands, "I feel like you don't want me to have any part in raising Gemma."

"I don't," he cut her off, finally opening his eyes to glare at her. "Look, Pansy was never your friend. And as often as she annoyed me, we were still..." He stopped speaking as his voice began to show signs of an emotion he didn't want Hermione to see.

Inching closer, she rested her hand on his forearm. "I understand that," she replied quietly. "Even after reading her letter I can't completely comprehend why she would choose me. But, Draco, she did, which means you have to let me in. Let me shoulder some of the load."

Pulling his arm away from her touch, he used his hand to push away strands of blonde hair that fell into his eyes. "How do you expect to 'help shoulder the load' if you're always at work?" he asked condescendingly. He rose from the couch. "This conversation is over, Granger. I'm going back to bed."