A/n: Not yet edited. It's being sent through shortly.
A successful marriage involves falling in love many times,
always with the same person.
~Mignon McLaughlin
"Honestly Draco, when are you going to propose?"
"Mother-"
"I know, I know. You don't want to be pressured. But your child can't be born a bastard-"
"Mother," I insist, feeling the vein in my head begin to bulge. "Enough, please. I'm not going to propose to Hermione. It's too soon; we aren't there in our relationship. Merlin, we've barely had a regular relationship since we got together. There's been one twist after another."
She looks worried, tapping only fingernails persistently against the wood of the table. We've been at this discussion for quite some time now, and she's still insistent that I must marry Hermione before our son is due. Honestly, it's modern day, not the era she was married in. Times have changed.
"Draco, you know I mean well, but never has a Malfoy been born-"
"He won't be a Malfoy," I grumble, crossing my arms tensely, "He'll be a Granger. At least until we're married. I'm not labeling him with my last name until we've married properly."
My mother sighs, looking away briefly. We've been at this conversation for almost an hour now, practically since I arrived and found her in the gardens. She's pushing this topic, but I will have none of it. She can't force things just because she thinks it's a good idea.
"And how long until that marriage Draco? How long until you three are a proper family? I may disagree with your choice in Miss Granger, but you should at least wed her before the due date. It will start you three off as a picture-perfect family. People will have less to gossip about."
"I really don't care what people gossip about," I groan, rolling my eyes. "So long as someone wants to, there is always something to gossip about. And mother only a few months ago I recall you being kind to Hermione. Actually, you've been almost civil with her since the court case blowout. Why are you being icy again?"
"I want you to have a proper marriage to support the baby," she says simply, sipping her tea. "When your father and I discovered that I was with child we rushed preparations for a wedding accordingly. We were wed many months before you were born."
"As kindly as that is, you're forcing a topic that I'm not ready for. We've hardly experimented being an honest couple. I'd rather spend my time taking Hermione out on dates and establishing something before I press her to accept my hand. Despite our rushed beginnings she's structured, and she likes to take things slowly. Everything is supposed to be done according to a science to her, but that got screwed up with the Siren nonsense. I know she doesn't want to rush what we have, and with a baby on the way it makes sense to not press matters."
Mother presses her lips together tightly, obviously unhappy with what I have to say. When kind talking didn't do the trick these past months she's resorted to being crude. It's not working in her favor either.
"Draco she's what, four-five- months along now? The baby will be here in such a short time. I know the pair of you went looking for a home yesterday-"
"We discussed this, mother. I purchased the house yesterday."
"Whatever. The point is you shouldn't dally. Please, if you won't ask her before your son is born then why not a few months after? He could be in the wedding- oh, that would be just darling!"
I knew this would happen. Despite trying to be angry about my lack of progress with trying to wed Hermione, mother always gets distracted and happy whenever we talk about my unborn son for too long. She's simply elated for his arrival.
"And how goes the name search? I hope you've made more progress since the last time I asked."
"Hermione desires to name him Hayden," I say, making a face. Mother cringes as well.
"Hayden? That's a terrible name. What about Alexander? Now that's a strong, Malfoy name."
"I think I may have already tried that one- or at the very least it's in the realm of possibility. But isn't Alexander too bland?"
"It does lack the uncommon edge that Malfoy names are known for," she agrees, leaning back in her chair. Mother could talk for hours about baby names alone. "How about Alexei?"
"It might be too exotic for Hermione's standards," I say with a shrug. My tea is now cold, sitting forgotten on the table in front of us. I arrived here earlier with a purpose, and thus far I have been completely distracted from it due to the common talk of my child.
"What about Cygnus?" she continues, looking away fondly for a moment. I know that name immediately, and frown at the mention.
"Your father's name was Cygnus. From what I recall you were not fond of him."
"My father could have been a better man than he was," she replies dismissively, flicking her hand. "And anyway it's different from the Malfoy tradition of constellations. This is the first time someone has dared to step out of Pureblood traditions Draco. We might as well scrap the constellation idea too."
My brows shoot up at her words. One moment my mother is icy about Hermione's heritage, and the next she is damning ours. I'm not entirely sure where she stands with everything right now.
"Perhaps we should," I muse, studying my nails a moment. A silence falls between us, and I take the time to actually get to my point for stopping by today. I should be back with Hermione, preparing to move to our new home tomorrow, but right now I'm distracted by something that's been pulling on my mind.
"Mother," I begin, pushing my tea away, "Do we have a history of Veela's in our family?"
She frowns, sitting forward slightly in her chair. "Where did you ever come up with an idea like that Draco?"
I shrug. "It's just a curiosity."
Looking unconvinced by my response, she continues nonetheless. "I think I heard your father saying something about it once upon a time, but that was years ago. And he certainly wasn't a Veela, and neither was his father. If there is a history of Veela's somewhere it will come from his side, but the bloodline would be old and practically dead. You should be more concerned with possible Siren traits your son may inherit."
Nodding, I press the topic further. "Would there possibly be a book somewhere that might elaborate on that? And maybe explain it to me more?"
"Why the sudden curiosity? Veela's should be the last thing on your mind at a time like this."
If only they were. I'm never going to forget about that bloody book Hermione showed me.
"Is there mother?" I continue, ignoring her question. She sighs, shaking her head.
"I would assume so. You can always search through the library before you leave. Or you could try asking your father about it."
I scoff, standing from the table. "As if I'll waste the breath to talk to him. I'll see you at dinner, Hermione and I will both be down here for our last supper in the Manor."
Bidding her goodbye I leave the sitting room, though I can still feel her eyes on my back. Mother knows I'm up to something if I'm off looking for strange books, but right now I could care less about what anyone is thinking. I'm more interested in fully understand how the hell a Siren can suddenly give birth to a Veela- and why the hell no one ever thought it useful to mention to me that I might have some sort of ancient Veela heritage.
Veelas. Hmph. I wonder who pulled this idea out of their arse. Really, why the hell did Veelas have to get involved in this?
"I think your tie is crooked, and I've never once seen your tie crooked in the eight years I've known you."
"Are you seriously fussing over my tie at a time like this?" I stress, studying my witch with an appreciative eye. She hasn't started showing yet, but she looks absolutely gorgeous in the dress I bought her last week. I always knew I had good taste.
The announcement has blown out the front page of every paper in Britain- Hermione and I am having a child. People may as well be having a riot over it. I've been followed by the press before, but never like this.
Tonight isn't about our child though- we're simply guests at a bigger meeting. The ball held to benefit those who were bankrupt by the war is well underway, sponsored by the one and only Scarhead. While many reporters are focused on the events of the night, many more are milling about trying to get a statement from Hermione and I. It's so tiresome to avoid people.
"Draco I spilled wine on Parkinson's dress. Worse things have happened in the world."
"Yes but you're not going to be the one hearing about it tomorrow. I can imagine how long she'll dwell on the topic. 'Oh, Draco, that dress was an ungodly amount of money and your date ruined it doing whatever and now I'm completely ruined'."
"Nice Pansy impression," she laughs, shaking her head at me as she straightens my tie. "Does she always complain in such a high-pitched voice?"
"You seem to have forgotten that she talks in that same high pitched voice."
Shaking her head as she chuckles at me Hermione pulls me back into the crowd. Our secluded space is gone now as she drags me out in the open again to mingle amongst people I can't associate with in the least. Weasley actually tried to strike up conversation with me earlier before I called him Weaselbee, and once again I became the Ferret. civility here is unheard of when it comes to speaking with me.
"Sorry," someone says as they bump into me. I hardly pay the person any mind as we pass, unsure whether or not it was even a male or female. I'm focused on Hermione now, who is practically skipping through the crowd. She's in such a bloody chipper mood.
Someone grabs my shoulder from behind, stopping Hermione from pulling me any further. I glance over my shoulder, annoyed, wondering who the hell thinks they can just stop us. I don't appreciate being grabbed.
"I said sorry," the person states again, hand gripping my shoulder tightly. It's a girl, young and pretty, probably only a year or so younger than we are. But boy does she seem like the angry type.
"Your fine," I grunt, pushing her hand off. I turn, ignoring the girl once more as I take the lead and guide Hermione away, who keeps shooting the woman some strange looks.
"She was a bit snappy."
"Yes she was. But don't let her spoil your night doll. We've only been out for a short time."
Together we wander back through the crowd, pausing at the refreshment table as we go. I pour Hermione a glass of cider, wondering why that annoying girl is still on my mind. Gazing at the clear liquid a moment, I forget the world around me.
"Draco, you're not paying attention."
Snapping my head up I frown, wondering what Hermione is talking about. I stumble back in surprise, pushing the glass of cider out of her hand. Only now it's something closer to blood than cider, and it's coating her lips, neck, face…
"The hell?" I ask, looking around the room. No one is paying us any attention. No one even seems to care that the cider looks like blood and it's coating my girlfriend. Her hands rest against her stomach, which is now larger and rounder than it was a moment ago. I blink, stepping back from her stupidly.
"What's going on?" I continue, talking out loud. This is so surreal and strange, and I don't know what to make of it. She's looking at me now, afraid and angry all at the same time. Why did this pleasant dream suddenly morph into something terrible?
She's shaking her head, backing away from me. I move forward, no longer afraid and simply worried about her. Eyes wide, she starts screaming at me.
"You didn't protect me!"
I stumble forward, reaching to grasp her. But the moment my fingers touch her skin, she phases away and I'm left touching open air. Looking frantically I search for her, but there's no sign of Hermione anywhere now.
"You didn't protect us!"
The room fades, and suddenly I'm the only one here. Her words ring high in my head, jingling my thoughts around as I wonder where Hermione went, and what was in that drink.
"Draco."
"Where are you?" I cry suddenly, my fears eating me up. I don't know what's happened to her, but all I want to do is find Hermione and hold her. Whatever's going on, it's not normal. It's like my imagination is running away with itself.
"Draco."
"Come back!" I scream, searching the empty space further. No one is left now; there's no one left to hear my cries for help.
"Draco!"
I'm jostled from my sleep by someone shaking me, and in a sweaty delirium I spin around to see who is bothering me. My breath catches when I notice its Hermione, lying beside me in our bed.
Bed. As in, it was a dream.
Without saying a word to her I reach out and encompass her in a hug, inhaling deeply as she allows me to hold her tight. It was all just a dream; nothing really happened to her.
I remember the event that Potter held some months ago clearly. Nothing happened like it did in the dream. It was a regular, mundane event that lacked any sort of excitement. Hermione dragged me through the entire night despite the fact that I was positively bored and surrounded by too many Gryffindor's.
But I don't recall the punch becoming blood suddenly. Certainly the entire gathering didn't suddenly disappear and leave me alone with no idea where Hermione and our son went. It was a dream formed from my worries, and the fact that I have yet to explain the subtle threats to her.
Why I've dreamt of something that happened months ago and held no significance in my mind's eye I have no idea. There's no real reason why I should be holding onto the memories of that night. Nothing significant happened.
I had actually completely forgotten about the girl who bumped into me and demanded that I understood she was sorry. It was a face I didn't recognize, and honestly I had completely forgotten about her. I only subconsciously remembered her, which is silly since she played no big significance in my dream.
"Are you alright?" Hermione asks, struggling from my grip. "You seemed to be having a nightmare."
"Something like that," I agree, shrugging. "It was strange, certainly."
"What was it about Draco?"
Closing my eyes again, I lean and plant a soft kiss against her temple. "Nothing, love. Go back to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow, moving."
"You don't understand what a big day of moving is," she replies with a yawn, settling down against my shoulder. "You've never tried moving the muggle way. Now there's an ordeal that takes forever."
"You're right," I agree, unwilling to put up a fight at this late hour. She yawns a second time, and I can feel her drifting back to sleep against me. I should get up and splash some water on my face, maybe go eat something to determine why I'm having ridiculous dreams, but instead I shift and hold her close, thankful that she and our son are here and well. I couldn't imagine something terrible happening to the pair of them again.
Closing my eyes I fight for sleep, but it never comes. In the morning I pretend to have dosed off while Hermione gets up and prepares for the day. I can at least pretend that my nightmare didn't trouble me that much.
"It's perfect," she breathes as I help her out of the floo. "It's not too big, but it's got great property and look at this living room Draco! It's just perfect."
I smile, watching her study the room again. This was the one house we looked at that we both agreed on, and I bought it the same day we came to see it as a couple. Marriage may have been out of the question hey, we need a house to raise our son in. It's a start anyway to the life I like to imagine leading with her.
"And it'll feel like a real home once we get some furniture into it. Our mix of styles should create a strange looking home."
"But it'll be our home," she laughs, coming back to my side again. "And thankfully, at least with magic it won't take any time to get everything set up. I'm just so excited about the nursery!"
Smiling again, I grab her hand and squeeze it lightly. I'm a bit excited about the nursery too. It will be thrilling to decorate it and fill it with things for our child as time goes on. That and the small library will be the first things she tries to set up.
"We just need to pick a color," I tease as we head upstairs to scope the house out once more before unpacking. "We never did decide on the proper color for our son."
"We've barely decided on a name."
"My mother suggested Cygnus," I say with a chuckle, and she pauses to stare at me. "Cygnus?"
"Well, yes."
"Cygnus Malfoy?"
I frown, tilting my head. "I thought you were going to keep your own name for the baby. We talked about this at one point, didn't we?"
Hermione laughs at that, rolling her eyes. "Oh, we've talked about it. Only whenever we actually start trying to name our son we always pick names that will sound good with the last name Malfoy."
"Oh, I hadn't noticed."
"Me either. We just subconsciously did that, even though I said I would like to keep my last name for him until we discuss something more than what we have right now."
"We can find names that match with Granger, I'm sure."
Shaking her head Hermione steps up to me, getting rather close. "I think you're missing my point Draco."
"Hmm?"
She bites her lip a moment, hesitating before continuing. "I'd like him to have the last name Malfoy. I want it on his birth certificate."
Surprised, my eyebrows shoot up. "And you're sure about that. You're not going to reverse and decide you want him to have your last name?"
"No. Besides," she giggles, her mouth getting dangerously close to my lips, "If something ever happens between his father and I, he's already got the proper last name."
I grin at that, kissing her deeply. No matter what I think I know about her, Hermione is always full of surprises.
A/n: Not a lot of emphasis on romance, but I hope to get another chapter out soon. Thoughts? We're going to dig deeper into the mystery now.