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**** DRACO ****

Watching the amount of pain Hermione was in tore at my heart.

I thought I had prepared myself for it. I had read all about the different stages of labour, of pain, of helping her to breathe through it. Hell, I'd even seen Ginny in my living room wincing and groaning and breathing deeply when she went into labour with James. But this was different. This was Hermione. My Hermione and I hated to see her in the current state she was in.

After we'd apparated from the beach, she had calmly sat on the couch, holding my wrist and watching as the minutes ticked by on my watch. She had placed her hand gently on my bouncing knee, telling me to stay calm and breathe. I had rolled my eyes at her, but she had just laughed and insisted that everything was perfectly fine and if we turned up at the hospital now, they would just send us home.

Ginny and Harry had arrived at Hermione's request, and Potter had grinned smugly at me in my panicked state. I wanted to punch the look off his face, but since he'd been through this twice and I had about a million questions to ask him, I had kept my hands to myself. He had laughingly explained to me that I was just a supporting player here. Hermione was in control and I was best to just do whatever it was she asked of me.

So I had watched – one eye on the clock, one on Hermione – as she laughed with Ginny, as she winced and clenched her jaw as each painful contraction hit, how she meticulously noted the minutes between each one. I had no idea how she being so calm. I was terrified. My stomach was in knots, and I was sure that if my knee bounced any harder, I would require a new one.

Sensing my terror, Potter had done his best to keep me calm but as hard as I tried, I simply couldn't bear to stay at home any longer. Her contractions were still seven minutes apart, and she was insistent that we still had hours to go before our baby would arrive, but I was far too nervous about her having this baby on the floor of our living room that I insisted that we go.

We had arrived at the hospital and the receptionist had given me a look that I was sure most nervous fathers were given. He had looked at Hermione and asked if I had listened to anything she had said. She'd answered in the negative, the pair sharing a laugh, but I didn't care. I felt much safer now that we were there, and that our baby wouldn't be born at home.

Of course, she'd been right. Hours had passed and the baby was still safely ensconced inside her.

But as the hours had passed, her mood had changed. She had slowly gone from chatty and laughing, to quiet and subdued, and then to almost sullen and annoyed. I understood that her contractions had grown in intensity and were lasting longer, much longer, but there was something unnerving about the way she had transitioned into someone I hardly recognised.

She had taken to walking a constant path from one side of the room to the other, muttering quietly to herself, barely acknowledging anyone else in the room, including me. The only time she stopped was when a contraction hit. She would grip my hands as she talked herself through the pain, and then would simply resume her pacing and muttering.

She would occasionally look at me, as I walked beside her, staring blankly up at me, her lips moving but not forming words. Each time she did this, I wanted ask her to talk to me, but she had already told me to shut-up when I had tried to talk to her, to tell her how amazing she was, and since she was in charge here, I wasn't going to argue with my new fiancé and I kept my mouth shut. She had allowed me to rub her back and hold her hand, and I tried not to wince each time she gripped me so tightly I thought she would crush my bones. But if that was what it took for her to get through this, I would gladly let her break every bone in my body if she wanted to.

The nurses would talk quietly with her, as did the healer, but not one sound came from her; no cries of pain, no cursing at me for doing this to her, not even an 'ouch.' She simply breathed through the pain and nodded each time they quietly explained what was happening.

Hermione had paced the room until she could no longer stand up, and then she had lain quietly with her arms folded over her face. She had not uttered one word in almost an hour; her breathing was the only sound that she made. Her contractions were down to less than three minutes, and I was becoming more and more nervous at her complete silence.

She shifted uncomfortably on the bed, and her brow creased. I desperately wanted to talk to her, to ask her what she wanted, what she needed, but I knew that the last thing she did need was for me to distract her from whatever it was that was going on inside her head.

"Draco?" Her whisper finally broke the silence.

"I'm right here, baby." I kept my voice quiet, soothing, "What do you need?"

"Just you," She said, finally pulling her arms away from her face and looking over at me. Her eyes were full of tears making my heart clench.

"I'm not going anywhere." I pushed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead, kissed her cheeks as her tears fell, "You are blowing my mind right now, do you know that?"

She gave me a small smile. Her face was pale and splotchy, her eyes were red-rimmed and her hair damp with sweat. And she looked even more beautiful than she had on the beach that morning.

"You are a beast, Hermione Granger. A strong mumma bear. You have kept our baby safe, and now?" I lifted her hand to my lips, "You're doing the most amazing, most perfect job bringing this baby into the world."

She gripped my hand and her face contorted, but she still made no sound. I breathed with her, nodding as her eyes searched mine, almost pleading with me to make it stop. I watched her struggle, watched as she fought against her tears, and I had to bite down on my tongue to stop my own tears. She closed her eyes and I watched her finger as it tapped against my hand in a rhythm that matched the second hand on the clock.

I smiled; she was counting the seconds, timing how long her contractions were. I kissed her fingers, and I knew she had this. Despite all the pain she was experiencing, despite the tears, she was quietly in control. A fact that I should have realised, but had completely missed.

And then her face twisted into something new. Her eyes screwed tightly shut, her jaw clenched and her entire body tensed.

"Hermione?" I tried to keep the panic out of my voice but failed.

She shook her head and gripped my hand like a vice.

The nurse stepped up beside her, "Hermione?" She spoke in a gentle voice, "Do you need to push?"

Hermione nodded and the kindly woman patted her shoulder. "Listen to your body, okay? This baby is ready, and so are you." She looked at me, "Draco, you'll need to help her. Hold her leg, talk to her."

I watched as she looped her arm beneath Hermione's knee, holding her leg up and slightly out to the side. I copied her, and looked down at Hermione.

"Are you okay?" She panted.

"Me?" I couldn't believe that through all her pain she was worried about me.

"You don't...do well...with this...stuff." She panted, and the nurse chuckled.

So did I.

"I'll be fine. I'll just watch your face. My eyes won't look anywhere else."

But I lied. I did look down, telling myself that if Hermione could go through all of this, then I could pull myself together and not faint at the sight of my child being born.

I watched as Hermione pushed, bearing down with all her might; watched as the baby's head slowly emerged from her body. I reached down, touching the crown and a calmness that I hadn't expected washed over me. This was my child. The child I had given up hope of ever having. The child that I had made with the most perfect woman that ever existed. My throat swelled and I felt my tears on my face. Hermione's hand squeezed mine and I looked back at her.

She was smiling, despite her pain and exhaustion. I held her leg tighter and kissed her knee, "Almost done," I whispered and she nodded, pushing once more and crying out.

It was the first true sound of pain that she had made, and the healer looked up at her, his face as surprised as the rest of us. Hermione had been stoic throughout this entire birth. Her silence had made me nervous. I knew she was in pain, the healer knew, the nurses knew. But she had been quiet, had been dealing with it all inside her head. It was how she coped. But now, with that one loud cry, I knew she was fine, knew that all of her own nerves and her own concerns had just disappeared.

"That's it, baby," I encouraged and she cried out again. "You're almost there, Hermione, keep pushing."

And she did. She pushed our baby into the world like a champion, our daughter's tiny pink body finally sliding from her, all slippery and wet. I held my breath as the healer cleared her tiny mouth and nose, and my shoulders relaxed when a tiny, quiet cry sounded in the room.

Hermione reached for her and the healer placed our daughter on her stomach. She laughed, tears streaming down her face, as the baby's tiny arms flailed in surprise at suddenly being in a whole new world.

"Hi," Hermione whispered, "Thank you for choosing us to be your mummy and daddy." She kissed our daughter's crown and smiled up at me.

Her tiny fingers scratched at my face as I kissed her little forehead, and her eyes opened staring up into mine. I stroked my finger down her little cheek, smiling as she made a face and whimpered. I pulled my hand away at the tiny sound, but Hermione grabbed it.

"No, keep touching her." I looked up at her and she nodded, "She knows me, now she needs to know you."

"She," I said with a face-splitting grin, "We have little girl."

She reached up and stroked my cheek, "We do."

The baby startled and whimpered again, and Hermione, seeming to instinctively know what to do, pulled down the top of her gown and laid the baby against her skin. The nurse covered her with a blanket and placed a tiny hat on her head. Hermione wrapped her hands around her, rocking gently, stroking her cheek and whispering quietly to her.

I sat beside her, unsure of exactly what to do. The flurry of activity just minutes after the baby's birth had died down and the room had become quiet again.

Our baby had arrived and was content on Hermione's chest. She yawned and her big eyes blinked, as if still astonished that she was no longer warm and floating freely in Hermione's belly. She was so tiny and yet not unsubstantial. She was a living, breathing, tiny person who was a part of us both, and my need to protect her had instantly doubled the second she took her first breath.

Hermione looked at me, her expression a mixture of sheer exhaustion and absolute love. I wasn't sure how anyone could spend eight hours going through what she had and be smiling like she now was at the end.

"You were amazing, Hermione." I leaned over and kissed her, "Absolutely fucking amazing."

She pressed her finger to my lips, "No more swearing."

"Oh," I said with a chuckle, "So you won't be pleased if that's her first word?"

She shot me a look that made me laugh out loud. The baby startled at the sound and let out an adorable little wail.

I touched my hand to her back, "Sorry little one, Daddy didn't mean to frighten you." Her hands were balled into tight fists, and I smiled, "Just like your mum already."

Hermione looked down and pressed her lips to the baby's head, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. When she opened her eyes she looked up at me, "We did good."

"We did." I agreed, kissing her temple. I laid my head on the pillow beside Hermione's, staring at my daughter.

Nothing in my life had been as beautiful as this moment with my two girls. My two beautiful girls.

Hermione lay asleep in the hospital bed, her fist pressed between her cheek and the pillow. Her face was pale, and unsurprisingly, she was completely exhausted. If I had been in awe of her before today it was nothing. Watching her push our child into the world had given me a brand new insight into just how incredibly strong she truly was.

I watched her sleep - the woman who had just given birth to our child, the woman who one day soon would be my wife. Her chest rose and fell gently, and her adorable snoring squeak had returned, and I was delighted; I'd missed hearing it in the last few months.

My daughter slept in her hospital crib beside Hermione's bed. She was swaddled tightly, her little face peaceful, her bottom lip twitching. She was so pretty. She had a tiny button nose, a sweet rosebud mouth and her head was covered with just the smallest amount fine dark hair.

And I could hardly believe she was mine.

My eyes had hardly left her for the last hour. I had watched fascinated as Hermione fed her for the first time, had watched as she had been weighed and measure and declared perfectly healthy. I had nervously held her for the first time and then had my first lesson in how to put a nappy on a squirming, crying baby. Hermione had found it highly amusing, but I had finally succeeded and puffed my chest out with pride.

But now she was sleeping, they both were and I was far too wired to do anything but watch them both. I had sent an owl to my mother and the one I received back told me she would be here to meet her granddaughter the next day. I knew she would be beyond pleased to meet her, and that she would also be pleased that I had finally asked Hermione to marry me. She had been subtly – and sometimes not so subtly – enquiring when I planned to ask her since we had started living together. She may have moved with the times, but in some things she was still old fashioned and she liked tradition.

The baby stirred, her lips pursed into a pout and her face turned red. After a few little grunts, she began to whimper. I pressed my hand to her, rocking her gently and whispering soothing sounds. Her cries grew louder and my chest constricted; I already hated to hear her cry.

"Shh," I whispered, "It's okay."

I patted her gently, as Hermione had done, but her cries didn't stop.

"Hey, baby girl," I cooed, "Daddy's right here."

"You can pick her up, Draco," Hermione said.

I looked up at her. Her face was exhausted, but beautiful, and her smile was wide.

"She's your daughter, you can pick her up any time you want. You don't need permission."

I nodded and carefully slid my hand beneath her head, scooping her up against my chest. It was like holding air; she weighed almost nothing in my arms. She squirmed and let out another cry and then instantly went silent. I looked at Hermione who was smiling at me.

"She's already Daddy's girl."

I grinned, "And her Daddy is already ready to give her everything she ever wants."

Hermione shook her head, "She's not going to be a spoiled brat, Draco."

I leaned down and kissed her, "Are you saying I'm spoiled brat?"

"No," She said with a mischievous grin, "You are a spoiled arse."

I laughed, the sound vibrating in my chest and startling the baby. Her eyes blinked open, wide and staring. "You don't like your mummy swearing, do you sweet baby girl?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and leaned her head back on the pillows, "She needs a name, Draco."

"I know," I looked down at the baby in my arms, "Do you think the one you liked suits her?"

She nodded, "I think it does, but are you sure?"

I carefully shifted my baby girl to one arm and sat beside Hermione on the bed, reaching for her hand, "My family tradition isn't important. You are. And what you want is."

"It's not just what I want, we both have to decide." She reached forward, running her finger along the edge of the blanket hiding our daughter's face. She pulled it down and smiled, "What do you think?"

"You know that I love the name that you chose. And it does suit her."

"I agree." She kissed the baby's puffy cheek.

I looked back down to our little girl. "Hello Charlotte Abigail Granger-Malfoy."

"No," Hermione said, "That's not her name."

"It's not?" I was confused. It was the name she had chosen early in her pregnancy and I loved it the instant she had suggested it, and she hadn't suggested another.

"No," She took my hand, "If I'm going to be a Malfoy, then so should she."

I thought my heart would explode. I had assumed that Hermione wouldn't change her name when she married me, so I had also assumed our daughter would carry both.

"You okay?"

I leaned forward and kissed her, feeling several thousand different emotions. Happiness, elation, love, sheer terror at being a father, sheer joy at Hermione agreeing to marry me, all hit me at once. This woman and this tiny little girl were my entire world. They were my family and I was theirs. And nothing would ever change that.

I stroked Hermione's cheek, "You told me yes, you gave me a daughter, and you're taking my name. I'm not sure I can take much more today."

Hermione reached for Charlotte and I handed her over, "It's been a big day for you."

I laughed and shifted to lay beside my two girls, lifting my arm so Hermione could curl against me. "You have no idea."

A/N:

Thanks to everyone who has read/favoured/followed/reviewed this story so far - xx

The baby name came from one my very favourite Doctor Who episodes - The Silence in the Library/The Forest of the Dead - River Malfoy just didn't work ;)

Anyway...I hate when things come to an end, but we're almost there.