*drops this new chapter with a huge smile*

My eternal gratitude to Brinna DeeofSea, for polishing my grammar mistakes. I hope you love this chapter as much as I loved writing it.

Chapter 25: Checklists

*Grimmauld Place*

Harry had invited the gang to have a Muggle barbecue in his backyard. Ginny fixed the green salad. Hermione, half sitting on the high chair, helped now with the corn on the cob; her jack potatoes were already broiling on the grill. Pansy watched the whole episode unfold, chatting about pregnancies, crying babies, and annoying fathers.

Of all the men, only one worked wearing an apron with 'best cook in the world' print on the front. Harry manned the grill, and checked the ribs and chicken drums, in a true Muggle-way. Ron, Draco, and Blaise each enjoyed a Muggle beer out of the bottle - if we do it, we go for it whole the way, Harry had suggested. Blaise and Draco still prefer a foaming butterbeer or, even better, a good firewhiskey. But the delicious aroma rising from the grill was not one they would turn their noses against.

The garden table was dressed with a vinyl tablecloth, red and white checked - Hermione rolled her eyes when she saw it - complete with paper plates and red plastic cups. Teasingly, the witch had remarked on the lack of party garlands to make the party slash picnic look complete.

Harry complied to the will of his pregnant friend, and seconds later, flower and lei garlands adorned the space above the table, waving at the wind. The wizard company frowned, and he merely shrugged, "Muggles love this type of decoration. I could add some wind lights, too..." The men shook their heads in unison, "Don't overdo it, Potter."

When the chef-cook was happy with the grilled meats, everyone sat around the table and enjoyed the food, roaring when they noticed Hermione put her plate on the top of her belly, for easier access.

"Do you want me to hex their arses? Only I can make fun of my heavily pregnant wife." Draco slung an arm around her shoulders, offering false comfort as he was the one smiling the widest at sight.

While everyone was chewing on a chunk of meat, Hermione shared with the class, "Draco had a nice chat with our son this morning." While said wizard tried to stop her from spilling her beans, Hermione was relentless, "He's cross with his son because he's late."

"Malfoys are never late. I've told him that much." Pursing his lips, he wiggled his eyebrows defiantly, "Our son must abide by the family tradition."

Their company at the table followed the hilarious conversation. "Draco, babies don't come with an appointment. You told your son to be born on the 21st, at 4 pm., in Godric's name. I'm glad he's proved you otherwise. Your son is enjoying his stay inside his mummy's belly."

"Honestly, Hermione. Are you enjoying the extra time?" Ginny looked explicitly, thinking about her own last days as a pregnant woman.

"Not really, but James didn't appear just because you told him so…This morning Draco had a dad-and-son time, talking to my belly about how it's inappropriate to arrive late."

Blaise chuckled, "Did the kid replied?"

"In a matter of fact, he did. He kicked as if he understood every word." They all barked at her answer.

Blaise patted Draco on his back, "Mate, you're so screwed." The blond rolled his eyes, muttering at being the centre of everyone's fun.

Hermione froze slightly for a moment, masking her features almost immediately. Nearly no one saw it happen, except for the only mother at the table. Ginny mouthed, "How long in between?"

Hermione muttered silently, "Ten." The ginger-head gestured to wait with her hand, and joined the fun; in the meantime, she held a close eye on Hermione's discomfort.

The talk around the table remained hilarious, Harry reliving some hazardous moments during nappy changes, advising Draco to never uncover his son's little wand unless he had everything at hand, "It's so disgusting, to be showered by your own offspring…"

The laughter erupted when Ginny recounted about the one-time James blessed Professor McGonagall during one of her visits at Grimmauld Place. Harry had failed in securing the nappy decently, and when Minerva picked up the infant, the diaper fell, and the Professor got showered by a well-aimed jet. The elder woman had smiled stiffly, and the young couple guessed the witch wouldn't soon forget about the incident.

Hermione crossed looks with Ginny, who gestured 'eight'. Hermione shook her head lightly, Draco was enjoying his meal, and she hoped the labour wouldn't progress too fast. Harry caught up with the situation but remained silent, after a threatening look from both women. He knew Draco's car was out front, the nursery bag sat in its trunk, according to Draco and Hermione; so the trip to the maternity ward could go fast and smooth. There was still time, and even when it was five minutes between contractions, things could move on for ages at a snail's pace, he knew it from personal experience.

"Aren't you hungry, love?" Draco remarked, seeing the amount of food still left on his wife's plate.

Hermione reassured him, "You know I have to eat small portions at a time. The nugget and my stomach…"

"See, little one. Your mummy doesn't eat decently; it's time to vacate the room. I have cookies." Everyone smirked, hearing Draco talk to the belly, rubbing in the usual spot where the baby kicked. At that very moment, the belly went rigid, and Draco stroked over the full surface, easing what he thought to be a Braxton Hicks contraction. "Are you alright, love?" She nodded, holding her breath, but at the same time, deflecting the narrow look Harry sent her.

Instead of removing his hand, he kept it there, rubbing, while his other arm rested on the back of her chair, his thumb stroking her upper arm. Draco always felt so helpless, seeing her pain and knowing he couldn't do a thing to ease her discomfort. Pregnancy was still a far-from-my-bed show, thinking women exaggerated their experience. But these last weeks, the fake contractions forced him to review his opinion, much aware that Hermione wasn't choosing the easy way and pain-free labour, but a no-potion, water childbirth. His respect for what women endured, grew by the day.

He knew her fear, one he shared as well if he was really honest with himself. But he had faith, and, in Salazar's name, he was so eager to feel his baby boy finally in his arms. Lost in his thoughts, he felt a new contraction form under his hand and heard her intake of breath. This didn't sound like one of her usual ones, but a held-up breath of pain, and it put him on high alert. "Hermione, this isn't a Hicks-thing anymore is it?"

To his surprise, it was Harry who answered, "No, it's speeding up, Draco. If I'm not mistaken, it was six minutes ago, the last one." Ginny confirmed it.

Draco froze. He had prepared himself for this situation, the bag was in the car, which was parked right up front. The Portland Hospital's phone number was his temporary number one on his speed-dial. Basically, he knew what to do. And still, he froze on-the-spot. They all did, once it became clear that baby Malfoy was making his appearance shortly.

"Okay, love. Remain calm, concentrate on your breathing, honey." He stood up and paced. Patted his pockets for his car key. Sat down again. Stood up, went to the front door, peered to see if his car was still there. "Don't worry, love. I've got it," Draco yelled towards the back.

He opened the door of his car, sat down, drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, and ran through his checklist, "Okay, bag: check. Call: not yet." Picking up his mobile he called Portland's maternity ward, "Hello, this is Draco Malfoy. My wife Hermione Malfoy is in labour; we're coming. Within fifteen minutes. Bye." Make it seven, planning, internally, on using some confundo's to shortcut through London's traffic congestion. He returned to his checklist, not registering the fact he didn't allow the other party of the phone to answer back. "Okay, Call: done. All right, next. Drive to Portland."

A tick against his window woke him up from his thoughts. The zooming of the lowering window, enerved him, "Yes, Potter?"

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Harry had to talk louder because Draco fired the engine at the same time.

He was annoyed by the interruption, "No, I have the bag, just called the maternity, and I'm ready to leave."

Harry's arm shot out through the window and shoved Draco's face to his other side, "Maybe your wife?" Draco flushed, gulping dryly; realising his major mistake. The most important part of this operation was being helped down the stairs by his best friend Blaise, while Ginny opened the door and covered the seat with a thick towel to protect the leather. Draco thought I didn't even think of this particular detail.

Thankfully for him, Hermione smiled while descending the stairs. Entering the car wasn't an easy feat as one contraction hit her pretty heavily at that precise moment. She squirmed from the pain and Draco paled even more. Harry heard him mutter, "I can do this."

Feeling sympathetic with the blond wizard, he clapped him on the shoulders, thinking about his own experience, "You can do this, Draco. They do most of the job. Ours is to be supportive and bite through the pain if she squeezes your hand a tad too hard." He gave Draco a thumb's up and stepped aside to give room to the wizard to manoeuvre the car into traffic.

How Draco avoided collision with other cars was a miracle; he wasn't entirely focused on his route and a few times was brought to reality by Hermione's squeal, "Draco, you're going to crash!" Hermione would later recount how it felt as if she was inside a bumper cars ride, slammed from side to side by the abrupt driving style of her otherwise calmly driving husband. Honestly, she was relieved to arrive at their destination, if not because she was happy to be out of the car.

Her husband, however, turned from absent minded professor into a dictator, barking orders and remarks at every nurse who crossed their path. "My wife is in labour, step aside!" He pushed Hermione not so gently forward, into the elevator; she could barely keep up with his steps.

On the right floor, he barked further until a nurse came with a wheelchair. Impatiently, he made her sit down, and Hermione scolded him at his manners. "If you don't stop this behaviour right this minute, Malfoy, I won't let you assist the labour."

"You're in pain, and our baby is about to be born, Hermione." He was so panicked. "You need help."

"And you need to tone down your…" pain took her breath away for a minute.

Draco nearly lost his wits. "Breathe, Hermione. Breathe. In. Out."

A hand shot out and grabbed him by his collar, "Ferret, stop! Or your son will be a single child." Her sneering brought him to his senses, maybe also from preservation; he was pretty fond of his family jewels.

Suzanna arrived, took over the wheelchair from Draco's hands and calmed both mother and father, "Let me bring you to the delivery room, do some important check-ups, and see how far this labour already is progressing." Her calm tone of voice soothed Hermione's rage. Draco followed like a meek puppy.

From there it went pretty fast. Hermione was lowered into a large bathtub. The water worked, soothing against the pain, it didn't nullify it, but it made it more tolerable.

An hour and a half later, the sharp sound of crying filled the room. The pain didn't matter anymore, nor did the feel of a hand crushed harder than a lemon. What counted, was the wrinkled, little nugget, crying his lungs out, red as a tomato, complaining from being brought into the cold world. Hermione nestled the little body against her chest, talking soothing words at the infant. She smiled through her tears at her son and at Draco, who cried openly. His finger trembled while it outlined the shape of his son's face, ending being grasped by a tiny but surprisingly fierce grip.

Draco kissed her deeply, "Thank you, Hermione. Thank you for this precious gift." His free hand cupped her face, thumb drying her tears away. His throat was constricted by the emotions.

A click sound filled the room, and both parents looked up. Suzanna explained, "We always take a photograph of this first moment. Cherish this memory. My congratulations to both of you, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy."

While a team of nurses focussed on the mother, Draco followed the one who took the baby away for the necessary measurements and assessments. The nurse ran the series of wizardry tests similar to the Muggle Apgar scores, and Draco smiled, watching his son complain from the little tick on his bottom, and how the baby unknowingly took his first steps.

Finally, after four long months of waiting, Draco held the precious cargo in his arms. The baby was a little over 8 pounds and 20 inches long, and was now wrapped in a baby blue blankie. The light blue eyes looked at his father's grey, inquiring. Draco cooed, "Hello, Son. I'm your daddy. Want to meet your mummy?" He showed his bundle to his wife, "See how perfect he is, love?"

"Hello, Scorpius."