Happy Friday! I'm almost done writing this story, so there should be a total of 26 chapters by the time I'm done. After that, I've got nothing else planned right now. Inspiration hasn't struck yet.

Chapter 20
By the time they broke the news to the Weasleys, Hermione had begun to show. Molly eyed her suspiciously, alternating her glares to watch Draco cook. Surely he would poison them all at supper. And so she watched, first Draco as he stirred a pot of spaghetti sauce, then Hermione who fiddled with the rings on her finger.

"How long?" the older witch inquired.

Hermione's hands fell to her lap and she snapped her head up to look at Molly. "How long what?" she asked.

Molly pointed to the wedding band. "How long ago did the two of you marry?" she asked, adopting her overprotective, motherly tone as she stared at the young witch.

"Three months ago," she whispered, awaiting the scolding that was sure to come.

"Supper's ready," Draco announced as he carried the sauce pot to the table, then returned to the kitchen to retrieve the spaghetti.

It wasn't long after they were seated that Molly continued questioning Hermione. "What made you decide to get married?"

"Because Hermione and I decided to start a family," Draco answered confidently as he prepared his wife's plate.

Molly's lips pursed as if she had tasted something sour. "Absolutely not," she stated.

"Excuse me?" Draco asked, putting down the tongs he used to serve the pasta.

"The two of you are children," she said, her voice rising with each word she spoke. "Neither one of you is capable of raising a child. Hermione, I understand you're upset about losing your parents, but playing house with this boy isn't the answer."

Rising from the table, Hermione knocked over her chair in anger. "We're not playing," she replied, ire rich in her voice. "Draco and I were both forced to grow up faster than other children our age. We're more than responsible enough to raise a child together. God, what was the point of fighting a war, losing all those people, if people are still unwilling to overcome their prejudices?"

"I'm sure Draco has-" Molly started, but was quickly cut off.

"Draco has overcome his prejudices," Hermione interrupted. "I was talking about you. If you'll excuse me, I'm not hungry."

No one spoke as Hermione left the dining room and made her way to the second floor. Arthur Weasley eyed his wife, ashamed by her outburst. He rose and clapped Draco on the shoulder gently before murmuring an apology. The younger man nodded and excused himself from the table. Taking the stairs two at a time, he quickly reached their bedroom and his crying wife.

"We're more than capable of raising this baby," he stated, sitting down beside her. "We love her and want what's best for her. We have plenty of money to keep us afloat. I don't know where she gets off saying that we can't do this."

"You don't think we're too young?" Hermione asked, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Not at all," he replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "It's like you said - we grew up quickly. At least we'll be together in this."

"Do you think they're still here?" she asked after a few moments' silence.

Draco looked back toward the bedroom door. "Sounds quiet down there," he replied. "Doesn't necessarily mean anything though. Mr. Weasley seemed angry. Thankfully, it didn't seem to be directed at us."

Hermione nodded. "He's really great that way," she said. "He's a lot like my father actually. I wonder what my parents would say."

"That they're glad you found a man who loves you," Draco guessed.

Hermione snorted. "Or they would agree with Molly," she muttered.

Sighing, Draco stood up and moved to the window. The sun had already set, casting their quiet neighborhood into darkness. "I'm not sure I understand," he stated. "Do you regret marrying me? Do you all of a sudden not want to have this baby?"

"That's not it at all," she exclaimed, moving to his side. Her hands touched his arm, his shoulder, his back as if she feared she would never be able to feel him again. "There is not one moment of our relationship that I would change. I love you, and that's never going to change."

Turning around, Draco held her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. "Let's get you fed," he murmured. His hands lowered and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders as he began to lead her from the bedroom. The living and dining rooms were abandoned, and the two plates set for the Weasleys were no longer on the table. The soft glow of a warming charm hovered over the food Draco had doled onto their plates, and he led Hermione to her chair.

"I talked to Pansy yesterday," Hermione said around a mouthful of pasta. "She asked if we needed help with the nursery." Draco nodded and wolfed down his food. Hermione set her fork on the side of her plate. "She's got a lot of really great ideas." Draco continued to eat without acknowledging her statements with anything more than a nod. "But I told her the baby would probably be fine sleeping in one of the empty drawers. Saves a lot of money on buying a crib."

Draco's head snapped up and his fork clattered to his plate. "What the hell?" he asked.

"Just checking to see if you're paying any attention to me," she replied with a small smile.

He picked up his fork and continued to eat. "My child is not sleeping in a dresser drawer," he muttered.

"I'll tell Pansy that," she replied.

Draco finished eating and began to clear the table while Hermione finished. "I'm thinking about learning how to drive," he stated as he made the short trip from the kitchen back to the dining room.

"Okay," Hermione agreed, picking up her own plate to bring to the kitchen.

"I'm serious," he said, following her with the pot of sauce.

Scraping her plate over the trash bin, she looked up at him and smile. "I know," she replied. "And I think it's a really good idea. We can't depend on taxis and the tube all the time, especially when the baby comes. I think this is a good idea, sweetheart."

Draco nodded as he loaded the dishwasher. "We'll need a car too," he mumbled.

"There's always my father's car," she suggested. "It should still be in the garage." Once more, his only response was a nod. She watched as he continued to clean up the kitchen, worry knitting her brows together as he dropped a pot in the sink. Something was bothering him, something he didn't want to discuss. There was a sinking feeling in Hermione's stomach that it had something to do with what had been mentioned upstairs. "I'm sorry," she told him.

Draco squirted more soap onto the sponge and continued to wash the pot the sauce had been in. "What for?" he mumbled.

She moved behind him and rested her hands on his waist before pressing her cheek to his back. "For everything I said that made you doubt how I feel about us," she replied.

Shutting off the water, Draco let his head drop with a tired sigh. "It's not that," he finally said. "Our kids will never have grandparents, not now that Mrs. Weasley doesn't approve."

He turned to face her and she wound her arms fully around him. "Yeah, but they'll still have plenty of people who'll love them."