Chapter 3

Hermione sat on her bed with a basket of laundry in front of her when she heard a soft knock on her door. "Come in," she said as she placed another onesie in the basket. The door opened and Draco stuck his head in. "Oh good, I wanted to talk to you. Mrs. Weasley usually has a big Sunday lunch, and I haven't been to one in awhile. She said that if I could make it tomorrow, we could do a little birthday party for Gemma."

He nodded and shut the door, leaning back against it. "That's fine. I haven't been to visit my mum in just as long. I'll spend the afternoon with her," he replied.

"Draco, why don't you...you should be there," she insisted. "It's her first birthday, and she's so attached to you. Come with us."

"I'm pretty sure I'm the last person the Weasleys want to see." His hand sought out the doorknob, ready to make an excuse about checking on the baby, when she asked him to stop.

"Could you, just this once, pretend to humor me? Say you'll think about?" she asked hopefully. He nodded once and left the room. She sighed, and fell back against her pillows. The tension that used to be there between Draco and her had finally begun to dissipate over the past months. Gone was the Draco she had grown up with, and in his place was a kinder, gentler, more patient man. Pansy had been right when she wrote that he wasn't Lucius. There were no nannies, no house elves, no servants waiting on them hand and foot and taking care of Gemma all day. He stayed home with her, changed diapers, took care of nightly feedings. She couldn't be sure, but when Gemma had taken her first steps or called him "dada" she thought she could see a twinkle in his usually emotionless gray eyes.

There had been something on his mind. He rarely ever sought her out in her bedroom. Something must have been bothering him. Setting aside the rest of the unfolded laundry for later, she left her room and knocked on his door. After a muffled shuffling of feet and the sound of the knob turning, the door opened. She smiled expectantly at him, and Draco stepped aside to allow her in.

"It seemed like there was something on your mind before," she said, taking a seat on the edge of his bed.

"It was nothing," he mumbled, smoothing back his hair. His face hardly betrayed the lies he so often told. It's nothing. Everything's fine.

Her eyebrows drew together in concern. "I don't believe you," she decided, though she knew he wouldn't care what she thought. "You came to my room to talk, and I just cut you off with that silly idea about going to the Burrow."

"It's nothing," he said again, leaning back against his dresser.

She rose from the bed and moved to stand in front of him. "Talk to me," was her only request as she placed a hand on his bicep.

Reaching over, he removed the hand from his arm and give her wrist a less than comfortable squeeze. "I said it's nothing. Good night, Granger."

Her eyes began to sting; a sure indication that tears would follow shortly. "Fine, Malfoy," she replied, keeping her voice even. "See you in the morning."

The midday wind whipped up as Hermione quickly walked to the front door of the Burrow. Her arms were full as she carried Gemma, trying to protect her from the wind, and the very full bag of supplies to keep the little girl fed, dry, and entertained. Not for the first time since she had left the house, she wished Draco had come with her.

Once inside, she was greeted by noise and several members of the family. Molly Weasley, the short, stout, red-haired matriarch, pushed her way through the hoard surrounding Hermione. She gasped and covered her mouth with one hand. "Oh, she's so beautiful," Molly exclaimed. She held out her hands to Gemma, who leaned away from Hermione, and Molly relieved the young witch of the little girl. "It's just so good of you and Draco to take her in. She's just precious."

As Molly carried Gemma away, Hermione began to protest. "It's no use," Ginny told her, resting a hand on her rounded stomach. The sunlight caught on her diamond ring, causing Hermione to squint. "You probably won't see her again until it's time to leave. And even then you'll have to pry her out of Mum's arms."

"Don't worry, Mione," Harry said to her. "Once James is here, Molly's attentions will be elsewhere."

"Thanks. That's...reassuring," Hermione replied, though she was hardly convinced of that notion. She placed the diaper bag down beside the couch and took a seat. Her eyes surveyed the room for any sign of Gemma. Then she heard the familiar peel of laughter coming from the kitchen. A smile appeared on her face as Gemma was brought back into the family room, courtesy of George's wife, Angelina.

"I think someone missed her mummy," Angelina said with a smile as she handed Gemma over.

"Mama," Gemma said happily once she was comfortably situated on Hermione's lap. Hermione gasped as her mouth hung open, before closing into a wide smile.

"First time she's said it?" Angelina asked, taking a seat beside her. Once she was seated, her three year old daughter Roxanne climbed onto her lap. Hermione nodded in response and kissed the top of Gemma's head. "It's an amazing feeling when they finally acknowledge you. I still don't think I'm used to hearing Roxy and Freddie call me mum yet."

"It is amazing," she agreed, as the smile began to fade. "I just sort of wish Draco had-"

"Hey, where is the ferret anyhow?" Ron interrupted. George slapped the back of his head.

Before she could reply, Mrs. Weasley appeared from the kitchen to announce that lunch was on the table. The children ran ahead of the adults to occupy the small table Mr. Weasley had crafted just for them. Hermione was the last one to the table. She sat with Gemma on her lap, alternating between feeding her and eating from her own plate.

A small cake was brought out and set in front of Gemma once the table was cleared. The large family sang a rousing chorus of "Happy Birthday" and clapped when Hermione helped her blow out the single candle in the center. Molly then took the cake and began serving it around. Hermione cut off a small piece and held it up for Gemma. But the little girl had other ideas. Her small hands immediately reached for the chocolatey concoction as she shoved it into her mouth. Hermione laughed as Gemma held up a sticky, chocolate covered hand to give her a taste.

"Thanks, love," Hermione said with a smile. "I should get her home, Molly. She'll need a bath and it's almost her nap time. Thanks for lunch."

"You come back soon, dear," Molly replied, pulling her into a hug. Her plump hand caressed Gemma's chocolate frosted cheek. "And you have a wonderful birthday."

They arrived home shortly after leaving. Draco was stretched out on the couch with a book held up to his face. The sounds of the newly arrived had him closing it and sitting up. "What the bloody hell is all over her?" he demanded, rising from the sofa.

"Now, now, Draco, language. We wouldn't want her third word to be foul," she reprimanded him with a smile.

He took Gemma from her arms and proceeded to the upstairs bathroom to bathe her. "Third word? Did she finally say it?" he asked. He laid the little girl down on the changing table and began to remove her cake stained clothes. Hermione moved over to the bathtub and began to regulate the water.

"She did," she replied, the smile growing as she relayed the moment in perfect detail for him. "I wish you had been there to hear it," she added, stepping away from the tub to give him better access to the warm water. He nodded and they remained silent as the bath went on. She held open a towel, waiting to receive Gemma for drying. He left the bathroom, removing his wet shirt as he went, and closed his bedroom door behind him.

With a deep frown set on her face, she gently placed Gemma down in her crib and then went to Draco's room. She hadn't bothered to knock; just pushed open the door to confront him. "I thought you were visiting your mother today. That's the reason you gave me for not coming to the Burrow with us."

"I told you I wouldn't be going. I will never be welcomed there," he replied with just as much ire in his as had been in hers. He took a seat on the side of his bed and sighed. "I wasn't going to ruin her birthday by upsetting the Weasleys," he added softly.

Taking tentative steps, she reached the bed and sat beside him. When he didn't yell at her to get off his bed, she placed a hand on his back and moved it around in comforting circles. "I couldn't stop thinking about Pansy today," she told him quietly. "When she finally called me 'mama'...I don't know. I thought I would have been happier, but I just couldn't stop thinking that I'm not her mother. Not really."

He turned his head slightly. "I feel that way too sometimes," he admitted. "I had a meeting with the family attorney to add Gem to some of the Malfoy family accounts and put her in my will. And each time I had to write her name, Gemma Parkinson, it just reminded me all over again that she's not really a Malfoy."

"We could have her name changed," she suggested in hopes of alleviating some of the pain they both felt.

Draco scoffed and shook his head. "And what do we change it to - Gemma Parkinson Granger Malfoy? We can't do that to a child. Three last names would be ridiculous."

"And we're not eliminating Parkinson," she agreed adamantly. She sighed and lay back on the soft mattress. "So, what do we do? How do we get this feeling to go away?"

"I don't know," he murmured, lying down beside her. "Maybe it just takes time. Longer than six months, I mean." And they both hoped he was right.