Chapter 11
Four years ago, if someone had told Draco Malfoy that he and Harry Potter would be meeting in the Three Broomsticks, drinking butterbeer and discussing life's problems, he would have hexed that person on the spot.
"You look like you're dressed for a funeral," Harry joked when he walked in. Draco was dressed in crisp, black dress pants with a black turtleneck sweater and a matching blazer. The blonde didn't crack a smile as he took a seat at the bar and ordered a drink. "What's wrong?"
Draco sighed, took a long pull of his newly arrived butterbeer, and breathed in deeply. "Hermione's pregnant," he muttered, digging the heels of his hands against his eyes. "I haven't slept in three days. Gemma's getting a cold. Who knows what the hell Blaise is up to. I just keep waiting for something to happen there, but nothing has."
When Draco finally opened his eyes, Harry stared at him slack-jawed. Small sounds came from the raven-haired man, but no complete words seemed to form. He pulled off the round glasses that he'd worn since childhood and rubbed at his bright green eyes. He slid them back on, pushing them up the bridge of his nose.
"I didn't realize it was that serious between you and Hermione," he finally said after a long sip of his drink.
"We've been together for about two years, and I love her," Draco said somberly, turning around and leaning his back against the bar. "I just wasn't expecting this. And with the uncertainty surrounding Gemma and Blaise, I don't know how to handle a pregnancy on top of it all."
"And how does Hermione feel about all of this?" Harry wondered.
Draco shrugged. "I think she's scared. She doesn't seem to want to talk much about it though," he shared. "The other night she did mention that she's afraid that I'll leave her like Blaise did to Pansy." Harry shot him a pointed look, as if to ask if her fears were valid. Draco scowled, feeling his temper flare. "I'm not going to leave her. Our situation is nothing like what Pansy went through."
"Does she know that?"
"I don't know," Draco replied. He turned around on his stool and dropped a few sickles on the bar. "I have to go."
It wasn't long before Draco was home. He stared nervously at the house, his heart rate increasing with each step forward. The door seemed to weigh one hundred pounds as he pushed it open and closed it behind him. His mouth was suddenly dry as he called out for Hermione. His feet were rooted in their spot near the front door when she appeared from the kitchen with Gemma on her hip.
"Umm, hi," he said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.
"What's wrong?" Hermione asked warily, propping Gemma up higher.
He cleared his throat, his mouth still feeling like sand. "I want to marry you," he said softly.
Hermione began to lose her grip on Gemma and let her slide to her feet. "Go play for a minute, sweetie," she told her, all the while staring at Draco. "Now, what did you just say?" she asked him.
Slowly, he closed the distance separating them. "I want to marry you," he said more definitively. He lowered his lips to hers in a soft kiss.
Resting her hands against his chest, Hermione softly pushed him away. "Draco, you don't have to," she assured him.
"I need you to know that I'm not going anywhere," he told her, taking hold of her hands. "I don't want you to ever wonder if, one morning you'll wake up, and I'll be gone. I don't ever want to leave you. I want to marry you."
Hermione shook her head. "But you don't have to," she said again.
"But I want to," Draco argued with a small chuckle. "We love each other, right?" Hermione nodded. "I want us to be a family. A real family."
His gaze shifted from the witch in front of him to the curly haired toddler happily playing on the living room floor. The room was always a mess of toys. Not a day went by that Draco didn't trip over a block or step on a doll. But he had told Hermione time and again that he wouldn't have had it any other way. The mess, the chaos, the uncertainty of each day excited him.
Growing up with Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had been a completely opposite experience. Toys were not permitted outside of his playroom. He was never allowed free reign of Malfoy Manor at such a young age. When bad dreams frightened him awake at night, his parents' bed was the last place he would have considered going.
Gemma had her parents' undivided attention, and the love of an extended family in the Weasleys. It had never occurred to Draco that he could have a happy family life, but that was what had been provided to him when he and Hermione began to raise Pansy's little girl together. And with the promise of a new baby, a new life, Draco felt the desire to make their family more complete.
When Hermione gave no reply, Draco continued, "I'm scared, Hermione. Scared that Blaise will take Gemma away. Scared that I won't know how to help you through this pregnancy. Scared that I won't be a good father to our baby. Hell, I'm scared that you won't need me."
"That's not true," Hermione insisted. "It amazes me every day that I get to be with you. I don't know how I'd get through this without you. It's just...I don't want you to think you need to marry me because of the baby."
Draco shook his head, tightening his grip on her hands. "Do you remember those name change papers you gave me? The ones that would officially make Gemma a Malfoy?" Hermione nodded her head, unsure as to where Draco was going. "It was before we were together, and I didn't really think we would ever get together. We still couldn't really stand one another, remember? But there was something about those papers, something that made me wish we could be a family, and I swore to myself that I wouldn't submit those papers until we were one.
"So, what do you say? Can we all officially be Malfoys? All four of us?" he asked hopefully, gray eyes sparkling with an expectant fear.
Hermione smiled, her own eyes glimmering with tears. "Yes," she whispered. "Let's make it official."
