Happy New 2019!

Wishing the best to my fantastic readers, and to my amazing beta Martee98, who's expecting a baby!

In this chapter, no house-elves were hurt.


Chapter 8: Disagreements

"Father." Narcissa smiled at the snappy tone, hoping to see her son stand up to his meddling father.

"Son."

"Why did you visit Granger?"

"Just a polite meeting between a new family member. Testing the waters."

"Polite?"

"Has the witch in question told you something else?"

"I want to hear your version, don't slither yourself out of the conversation. Again, polite?"

"Draco, I took her to a tea parlour, we had a nice chat, and I have to say, your mud- muggle born witch has charmed me. I must agree with you, she has a spine." Despite considering himself on the roust like a youngster, Lucius felt pride in the way Draco rose up.

"Go on…"

"Son, it's an embarrassment to our family to have an heir born out of wedlock. I'm beyond his blood status, realising that the witch and you will add a powerful lineage to our bloodline." He fought the urge to roll his eyes, "I tried to see if Miss Granger could be bribed." Draco's eyebrows hid under his fringe, mouth drawn in a line, "Which she can't, as you said she wouldn't. Instead, she called me a self-centred and arrogant, recognising my treats in your attitude."

Draco had trouble keeping a stern face. Narcissa forwent of decorum and giggled.

"I advise you to keep pushing her buttons in a non-offensive way and woo this woman. I drove your mother nuts before she caved in."

"Son, forget your father's imbecile advice, definitely considering her delicate state."

"What is your advice then, mother? I own natural talent to rile her up, it happens effortlessly."

"I feel I'm repeating myself, Draco. Show her the man you are."

"No, son. Rile her up, drive her nuts, make her go bananas by just looking at you all the while you make yourself irresistible."

"Lucius!"

"That's how I got your attention, my dear. If I had acted like a bloody Hufflepuff, I would have lost you to that Selwyn arse." Draco got the insight of a unique moment in his parents' life. How they met and how his father won his mother's heart was a chapter unknown to him.

"Be supportive, Draco. Try to be friendly to her friends to earn their trust, even with that Weasley boy… Show her my Draco."

"Be present at every corner and don't let her push you into a corner, son."

"I think I'll decide by myself what's the best course." A little more and he imagined his mother jumping on his father's' bones to teach him a lesson. Not a sight he wanted to witness. The fact he left the room and none of the two noticed, confirmed his gut-feeling.

It left him, however, with more questions than answers. There wasn't a book who could teach him how to deal with a stubborn muggleborn, and he wasn't yet that kind of friendly with Potter to ask him for some inklings.

A floo-call from Ireland demanded his immediate attention, Hermione temporarily shoved to the back of his head.

-oOo-

Hermione didn't hear or see Draco for more than a week, but his presence was felt. She ended with a massive stash of anti-nausea vials he enhanced in taste and composition, swapping the nux vomica for a few less dangerous ingredients. In a handwritten parchment he sent with the batch, he explained to have run into a few books which elaborated how unwise it was to use the pure essence of the plant against pregnancy-induced nausea.

It surprised her to read that he had conferred with Neville and Madam Pomfrey to that extent, brewing a new mix all together. Hermione attributed several points reluctantly to the Slytherin for his constant pursuit.

Further, he had instructed Tibby to become her personal wake-up call. The elf would wake her up after a power nap of thirty minutes - the blond had decided that five wasn't enough - instructions the creature followed punctually.

Where Draco might allow her five more minutes, the sergeant Tibby didn't. Orders were orders…

Moreover, the sergeant on duty brought her fruit daily, tea and a warm dinner despite the brunette's interjections. "Little Master needs to be a strong baby, yous must eat!"

Each plate smelled mouth-watering, and she attacked knowing how she felt about House-elves. Tibby even made sure it was eaten until the last crumble, "Nice of yous, Missus."

Her cabinets were always refilled, the dishes were done before she could rise from her chair and her whole house was cleaned.

"Tibby, I don't want you to take care of my household."

"Is Missus angry at Tibby?"

"Oh, Merlin." The trembling lip almost made Hermione sob with the elf, "No, I'm not angry at you, Tibby. I don't need you to take care of my house."

"But Tibby loves cleaning and cooking. Tibby changes nappies too!" It was Dobby all over again, with his pleading eyes. "Missus, please?"

"Do you let me pay you?"

"No, no, no! Tibby gets moneys from Master Draco. Master Draco says to take good care of Missus Minny and the baby and gives Tibby moneys to buy clothes. Do yous like my dress, Missus?"

"It's lovely!" In fact, it was a horrible colour combination, yellow dress, rosy pants and green cardigan. But she didn't have the heart to tell the truth.

But thanks to Tibby's help and her merciless wake-up calls, Hermione finally got some work done, submitting an important essay just in time. She caught up with some of her reading - not all, the backlog was quite extensive - and felt slightly more energetic than before. The combination of the vitamin vials, decent sleep and food were doing its miracle work.

What she didn't know was that Draco came every night, tucked her in and made sure she came nothing short. He was the one keeping her cabinets full, and an extra stash of the candy and olives she liked to devour. He was the one to give Tibby the household tasks and not allow a no for an answer.

And outside her knowledge, he achieved in getting some extended due dates for her assignments, by going straight to her teachers and arguing his case. For now, it was all he could do. Thankfully, her teachers understood and cooperated with him, keeping his involvement a secret and communicating only with her the change of deadlines, using a stealthy muffliato when doing so.

-oOo-

It was Friday, almost two o'clock and Hermione paced nervously in the ob's waiting room. Draco promised to come, alas no sight of him yet.

"Miss Granger, please come in." The healer-nurse called her inside.

Hermione huffed. No owl to let her know he couldn't make it, no message from Tibby either. His first appearance was, in fact, a no-show.

The nurse closed the door but was held back by a male hand, "I'm sorry, the Irish Minister kept pulling my sleeve." Draco was panting, his hair a mess. Between puffs, his hand tried to bring his tresses into a model. "It's the last time I'm accepting a floo-call on an appointment day."

"It's okay," Hermione couldn't hide her guilty face, she was rather quick in her judgment. "I've just entered."

A few medical checks revealed an improved blood pressure and a few other pointers, the healer happy to see Hermione with more vitality than two weeks ago.

"Let's make an acquaintance with your baby, shall we?" The obstetrician set up the ultrasound device, "I must admit that our Muggle colleagues have a better appliance to make this intrauterine checks, our spells don't give us sound with the image." The cold cream made her shiver, but soon two pairs of eyes were glued on the screen.

"Ah, your little baby is a little bigger now, see?" It was the image of a little astronaut, floating in the air, "A quite mobile one, but it's his right. Between this and a few months, he won't have the room for it." The man chuckled, but no one reacted. Both mesmerised at the white a black blurry picture. The healer smiled fondly.

The next reaction was also a predictable one. The fluttering on the screen sounded like a speed train, the little heart thumping hard, "A healthy heartbeat too…"

"So fast?"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy. The foetus' heartbeat is a pretty quick one. It's an excellent sign." The measurements of the head and the upper thigh confirmed the presumed date of pregnancy, "As I first calculated, you are now in your eight weeks, Miss Granger. Another four and we can assume to be out of the danger from a miscarriage."

A male hand found hers and squeezed.

"There you go, we'll set a new appointment for within three weeks unless you feel anything suspicious." Hermione didn't find her voice and nodded instead.

One thing was knowing that you carried life inside you, the other is actually see it move; see it bounce inside your womb as his personal playground.

What followed happened in a blur, before she knew it, they were both back on the street. "It's almost lunch hour, do you want to grab a bite together?"

"Sounds good."

He apparated with her to Muggle London, guiding her to a little Italian bistro. "An Italian Ministry employee told me about this place a while ago. They serve delicious food, and it's not really known among Wizards. We should be able to talk."

The establishment couldn't be more genuine to its roots, with white and red checked tablecloth, and small flower arrangements on the table. They ordered drinks and perused the menu, using the memento of silence to decide what to say.

"It's quite…"

"I'm impressed…"

They spoke simultaneously, and Draco motioned her to talk first, "It's quite cosy here, I like the place."

"It has its charms, and last time I met the mama who told me I look too thin for my health."

"The Italian version of Mrs. Weasley," Hermione smirked, "Why did you assign Tibby to me?"

"Is she doing something wrong?" The drinks arrived, and both sipped.

"No, but I don't need housekeeping. She barely lets me do anything in the house. You know how I think about house elves."

"It's public knowledge. Listen, you can use the help. Accept it, thank me for it, if you wish, but don't bug my ears about it every time we meet, I'm not changing my stance. Is the potion helping?"

"It is, thank you. Draco, I…"

"Every moment of peace last week was spent thinking about the baby and us. You are asking me to adjust, but I don't know how." He rose his hands lightly from the table. "How do you see us?"

"I don't know. All of this comes so fast together. My studies, being pregnant, you being the father."

"Do you regret it?"

"What do you mean?" The steamy pasta broke their conversation for a moment or two.

"The fact that I'm the father."

"Draco, let's not do this."

"I'm honestly curious…" This might probably be his biggest hurdle, having no clue how she thought of him.

"What do you want me to say? That I hate you? It's not the case. Are we each other's biggest friends? Absolutely not."

"Do you blame me for what happened with my aunt?"

"Since when? You weren't the one holding the blade."

"But I stood by and did nothing."

"What could you have done, Draco? Be honest? What could you have done without jeopardising your life? I didn't see you laugh or feel happy when I was tortured on the floor of your home. You weren't exactly cheering her on." Hermione rolled some of her carbonaras onto her fork and tasted it carefully, testing its heat. It was still too hot, and she had to fan some cold air.

Draco had pushed his ravioli away, hunger had vanished, "I still have nightmares, sometimes. Now more than I used to. I don't even know how to ask you for forgiveness."

"There's nothing to forgive, it was war, and we got caught in a fight that wasn't ours to deal with."

"I treated you horribly in Hogwarts."

"There's a thing you could apologise for, your behaviour before the war. What followed wasn't your doing, you were a youngster like me, forced to do things neither of us wanted to do."

"Can you forgive me?"

"I can." She focussed on her food, pointing out to him to do the same. It was silent for a few minutes, her eyes roaming over the other guests and the life outside. He kept an eye on her, judging her mood.

"The sound of the heartbeat was amazing." Hermione broke the silence.

"Surprising, considering the baby is so small." He cleared his throat, "Can I ask you a favour?"

"You can always ask.."

"I need to go to this dinner, for the Ministry in two days, and I would like you to accompany me. It has to do with negotiations we are closing up."

"Draco, that implies that we are together."

"We can show that we are united, and I could use a buffer against unwanted attention. Some witches forget their manners."

"Can't you deal with some female attention? I recall a time where you paraded with a girl at your arm…"

"When I was a stupid teenager. But when the wife of a certain minister is giving you a once-over, it stops being fun."

"You need me as your bodyguard?"

"I want you at my side. No labels." Plates were cleared and the dessert suggestion cards offered. "They have here a great chocolate pannacotta."

"You had me at chocolate. I don't know if it's a good idea, people will ask questions."

"Forget my offer then, I'll be fine." He was tempted to use his father's advice, being a softy wasn't working.

"I'll go with you, what's the dress code?"

"Formal, if you want I can take you to Madam Malkin's for a suitable dress."

"Us together at Diagon Alley and the gossip is unstoppable."

"I'm not ashamed to be seen with you."

-oOo-

They skipped coffee, and he brought her back to her house, surprised to see some leaflets of a local estate firm.

"Are you looking for a new place?"

"This is too small for a baby. For just me, it's fine, but a baby needs its own room after a certain time…"

"What do you have in mind?"

"No Manors. If possible something with a garden, I'll have to look into my assets first to determine my budget."

"I can afford it."

"We are not having this type of conversation, Draco. I feel like I'm always on repeat."

"I'm making sure the mother of my son is in a good place to live, which also brings benefits to him. I don't see the problem."

"The problem is that I feel no better than all the slags you've dated, who had your vaults in mind."

"This is different."

"It's more of the same."

"I don't fucking care, Hermione. I have more money than a person can spend in a lifetime. It won't hurt if I help you find a suitable place for my son to grow up in."

"I don't want it, Draco. I want to do it on my own, as I have always done, can't you see it?"

"What are the odds for me to bang the most stubborn witch on earth?"

"Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, you were the one stroking your dick as a prized possession. You never covered yourself."

"Why should I? I'm proud of my body. On the other hand, you returned to impale yourself on my cock…"

"YOU! … YOU!" Hermione looked around, and found a pillow, "Out of my house!"

"Calm down witch!" Another pillow hit him square in the face, "Knock it off!" Thanks to his reflexes he ducked before one of her books struck him.

"Out of my house before I hex your arse!"

"Think of the baby, Granger!"

"I hate you!" The last projectile she found was the thick tome on Ancient Laws. She grabbed it, aiming it at his deviating position, "Out of my house and take your goddamn money with you, Ferret!"

"What about the dinner?"

"I hope one of those bints harass you the entire night!" Book in hand, she drew her arm as a threat. She shrieked, "OUT!"

The book hit on her front door. He had vanished just in time.

Empty, she let herself lower to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.

The tapping of a small foot on the ground made her look up. Tibby was looking down on her, hands on her hips, disapproving. "Yous not nice to Master Draco."

"I didn't ask for your advice, Tibby."

"Tibby does not like to see Master Draco hurt."

"He is not hurt!"

"Yous threw books and pillows at Master Draco!"

"He deserved it. Mr I-have-too-much-money!"

"Master Draco only wants to do good, Missus Minny."

"Why am I having this conversation with a creature half my size?"

"Yous are not nice, yous have to apologise."

"When the hell freezes over! Now, shoo!"