Chapter Twenty-Nine

Beginnings, and Endings

"Bella," Hermione suggested.

Draco made a face. "Bella?!"

"What's wrong with that name?"

"Is our baby a dog?"

She rolled her eyes turning another page in the baby book. The couple sat on Hermione's couch. She laid down her feet on his lap, her head on the armrest rubbing the small bump that was her stomach as she read each name carefully. He had his own book, eyes narrowed in concentration, his hand too on her stomach, running his fingers along the materiel of her top.

It was a week since Hermione moved back to her home from Harry, and Ginny's. Ginny couldn't have been more ecstatic to learn that she didn't take Seamus up on his offer, and Harry seemed to agree.

"Orion," Draco asked.

"No."

"Caelum?"

"No."

"Scorpius?"

"Merlin, no."

"Phoenix?"

She knew he wasn't naming these off of the book he was reading. She sighed, exasperated. "Maybe, but Draco, honestly, are you trying to have our child named after a constellation?"

"Draco's a constellation; I see nothing wrong with it. We like the night, remember?"

"What if the child's a girl?"

"Ara," he stated, not a question

"That's pretty. I like it."

He nodded. "All right, what if it's a boy?"

"Hugo?"

"What's with the dog names, Hermione?"

She huffed indignantly. "Then you name something - and not a constellation."

"You're breaking a tradition."

"Narcissa, and Lucius are not constellations."

"No," he agreed, "but I'm trying to start a tradition here, and you're ruining it." It was his turn to sigh when Hermione didn't say anything. "Dianthus?"

"Dianthus..." She furrowed her brows thoughtfully. "That's odd, what does it mean?"

"It's the formal name of your favorite flower."

She smiled widely. "For a boy?"

"Why not? No one will know what it means, and if they do they have no such business in teasing him about it."

A thought occurred to her. "Do you want a boy, or a girl?"

"A girl," he said without pause. "I'd like to be the one to produce the first Slytherin girl that was cute."

"She'll be Gryffindor."

"Not bloody likely!"

She pulled her book over her face hiding her grin, and the argument died as they searched uselessly for other names they could agree on. It didn't matter if they found one, because they found the ones that they loved. Ara, or Dianthus. She wondered what their friends would think of the names. It abruptly reminded her of something. She wasn't sure why it was drawn to the front of her mind then, buried beneath those horrible memories.

"Zabini said something to me in the chamber..."

Draco put down his book looking at her worriedly. "What's making you think this?"

"Just remembering -"

"Don't -"

"I just want to know, why he told me good luck, that he was sorry, and to forgive him of his wrongs."

Draco smirked. "You speak Italian?" He was impressed.

"How'd you know?"

"Italian is his redemption. His father was an English deatheater, his mum an Italian muggle. He took his mum's last name. His father tried to hide what he was, but when she was killed he fell in deeper, and growing up with him Blaise tried to follow in his footsteps, much like how I tried to do with my father. Blaise can be a cold-hearted basterd, but in Italian, he's himself, without the mask, and the marks." He picked up his book again, but before going back to it said, "don't tell him I told you. He'd cut me up, and feed me to the dragons."

"Your secret's safe with me." She thought of Blaise, young, his mum dead, his father a nightmare. Her respect increased understanding him a little better.

"How do you know Italian," Draco asked.

"Vacation, I studied for months before we went."

"You probably knew more about the Italian culture than the Italian's themselves."

She became a light shade of pink at the compliment. No matter how far they would be in their relationship she would always blush.

Checking her watch she jumped up, laying her book on the coffee table. "Court'll be in session in an hour. Have to get ready," she explained hastily running up the stairs to her room, that was now shared with Draco.

She built up the best defense case for Gypsy, and it was finally the day she would find out if she won. Granted, someone else was delivering it for her. Kingsley believed her to be "too emotionally attached," and so it was handed off to a co-worker. Hermione was upset not to be defending the elf directly, but she had come to be okay with it. She understood it, and in the end all that mattered was Gypsy getting out of that house.

Dressing in her best suit, her hair pulled in a bun she went back downstairs, kissed Draco, and faced the fireplace disappearing in it's blazing depths, a knot forming in her gut as she anxiously thought of the possible outcomes.

Once in the Atrium she hurried under the arch to the lifts. She entered with three other people, only being semi-crowded. By the last floor, she was alone, and she went through the dark halls to the very large room. benches lined the wall going to nearly the ceiling filled with Ministry officials for her department. The ones that would decide Gypsy's fate. The superior at a tall podium shuffling papers, and looking in interest over his square glasses. They made him look like some bug that should be squashed.

Hermione took a seat in the back in the shadows where she couldn't be seen, and waited for the trial to begin.


Hermione stepped out of the flames. She looked quickly around the lounge for Draco, but didn't see him. She peeked her head into the kitchen, but he wasn't there either. She jogged upstairs sure that he would be there. He wasn't in their bedroom, or their bathroom. She felt a foreboding. What if he left? She tried pushing the negative thoughts out of her mind. She had to trust him again. It would take work, and here was a good example of working at it..

She went down almost every room in her house. The last room down the hall, the guestroom, the door was shut. She didn't remember closing it. She prodded it open, and held a gasp in as she saw the transformed room. Brightly lit candles were littered about the dark room. A few were on the wardrobe, half a dozen on the floor, five on the desk. Draco sat on the edge of the bed, brown guitar in his hold. He had changed into his black jeans, and shirt, but let his fair hair fall, the fringe by his stormy eyes, the firelight dancing over his face happily, casting long shadows.

She approached him in the room where they gave themselves to each other. He began to strum the guitar slowly, his fingers moving along the strings gracefully, knowingly, and then he sung, soft, and low, but clear, and lovely.

"Letters tied with ribbons.

Words of comfort of a trusted companion.

A rare, most beautiful gem,

A rock in the rough,

You polish me making me yours.

Truth be I was yours all along.

Talks of the greatest gifts,

Dreams versus nightmares.

And there's no escaping you.

You creep into my veins, pump through my heart.

Chestnut hair, chocolate eyes,

You're all mine.

My dreams are when I wake,

Seeing your smiling face,

There's no place better than being here with you.

Don't look to the past it holds no reason,

Look to me now.

You're a beautiful gem,

And I'm in the rough.

I swear there's no place better."

Hermione was breathless. It was without question the sweetest song she had ever heard, caressing her senses. She felt it from the inside, and not once did she take her eyes off of him.

He sat the guitar on the floor, leaning it against the bed. He stood in front of her, and gave her a flower that had been behind him, unseen. Once it was in her hands, the petals began to slowly open. She watched in amazement until each were open revealing a silver diamond ring within its folds. She could see that the band was cut into leaves like that of a flower made up of tinier stones of pearl, and sapphire, their birthstones. It was stunning to say the least.

"Marry me," he asked nervously, his voice thick, and barely audible.

Tears welled up in her eyes. "Who are you doing this for, Draco?"

He looked at her confused, then it dawned on him, and he chuckled that sounded more like he was clearing his throat. "For us. Since the day I saw you at the ball I knew I was going to ask you. The baby isn't a reason, or a catalyst, just the most precious bonus I could ask for." He wiped his thumb over her cheek. "Answer my question, Hermione."

She nodded. "Yes," she croaked.

Draco smiled weakly taking the ring out of the flower setting the carnation on the bed, and slipped the ring on her left ring finger, still trembling. He kissed her fingers, and pulled her in by gripping her waist, and the back of her neck. His mouth fell hard on her on in relief, and desire. Happiness swelled in her, filling her to the point that she thought she would burst with it, and set the world on fire.

She had won the case for Gypsy, who had chosen to work for her starting the following week. She came home to get engaged to the last person she'd ever thought she would agree to marry, but loved more than words could say. It was by far the greatest day of her life. Nothing could top this, not until her baby was born. Their baby.

"It all began with letters," she said against his lips.

He didn't move from her, but asked, "what're you going on about, Hermione?"

"That'll be the beginning of our story to our children."

He ran his fingertips over the materiel of her belly attentively, sweeping his lips over hers, and pulled back saying, "a never ending."

"What're you going on about, Draco?"

"That'll be the ending of our story to our children."

"Do you think we'll tell them about our schooldays?"

He laughed deeply, "well, of course, Hermione, that's where it truly began, didn't it? But we'll save that for when they're older. I don't want them knowing I hated their mother so soon."

"Or that I hated their father."

They smiled lightly at their school-day memories as he took her in his arms again. He tugged on the band holding her hair in a ponytail, and let it loose around her shoulders. Mumbling in her neck playfully nipping at it, "finally mine."

A/N: In a second reminder the story has 37 chapters.