The Alkahest

Chapter Fifty-Three: The L-Word

About ten in the morning, Ginny landed on her desk with a dull thump. Startled, Hermione got a blotch of ink all over her notes, and scowled at it. "Ginny, you scared me," she chided, although rather gently. They'd never spoken of the issue since that first time, with Harry and Ginny being largely committed to ignoring it during social gatherings. She actually wasn't sure that Ron or Susan even knew, yet.

She imagined that Ginny thought Susan would tell Ron, if she'd been let in on it. And Ron – well, it was safe to say that Ron shared his mother's viewpoint on abortion. Hermione remembered arguing with him about it years prior. He'd been convinced that fetuses were babies from the moment of conception, and it was hard to convince someone who believed that in the good side of abortion. To him, it was simply murder, and he'd been utterly horrified to learn of the procedure's existence. How can you deny a person's right to exist? he'd demanded.

Well, when that person wasn't a person, yet, she supposed. When that non-person's existence threatened the health of the mother-person. When the non-person was almost guaranteed to have a piss-poor life because the mother-person simply wasn't prepared. There were so many reasons. Plenty of them good.

But to use any of them, Ron would have had to acknowledge the possibility that a fetus wasn't a person. When she realized that he never would, she'd just dropped it, tersely suggesting that they agree to disagree.

So, no. Ginny probably wouldn't ever tell Ron.

"Sorry," the redhead muttered, listlessly. "I was going to come by for lunch, but I couldn't wait. You think your boss would let you take a quick walk with me?"

Hermione nodded, getting up to nip into her boss' office, asking if she could take her lunch break early and eat at her desk. He'd simply waved her off – she always turned her assignments in on time, and she was literally the last person he felt the need to babysit. A few minutes later, she was grabbing her robes to follow Ginny outside.

The air was starting to get noticeably cool, these days. She saw a hint of yellow on the trees and swallowed a sigh. She missed summer, already.

"I decided to keep it," Ginny said, her hands stuffed in her pockets.

Hermione just nodded. She hadn't really thought that Ginny would want to go through with an abortion. The things she'd been taught all her life ran far too deep for her to be able to make that decision in a matter of mere weeks. "Did you tell Harry, yet?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. I'll tell him tonight. I had to have a talk with my coach, first."

"What'd she say, then?"

"Offered me my spot back on the team after it all, of course. I don't think I'll take her up on it," she responded, in a low murmur. "I want to actually be around for this one, you know? With James and Albus, I had to hire a nursemaid. I didn't even think those things still existed. And then you hit that mid-season extended tour, and the milk all dried up, so... I don't know. It's like I didn't get to bond with either of them."

Hermione fell silent, not sure what to say. She knew nothing about the trials of motherhood, but the soft ache in Ginny's voice sounded like nothing else she'd ever heard out of the woman. After a moment, she said, "You're a fantastic mother, you know."

Ginny snorted. "Don't you butter me up because I'm all sad," she ordered.

"No, seriously!" Hermione chuckled, slinging an arm around Ginny's shoulders. "Those boys of yours are so well-loved, it's no wonder you managed to turn that drafty old house into a proper home. You must be made of miracles."

Laughing, Ginny leaned into her. "I hope it's a girl, this time," she admitted. "If I have to be stuck in a boy's club for a family again, I will go starkers."

"You'd think, after all this time, the wizarding world would have come up with a gender modification charm to perform in utero, or something. You can turn boogers into bats, for God's sake, but anything that could have a decent real-world application is, what, too boring for wizards to contemplate?" Hermione demanded.

"I'd much rather turn boogers into bats than play gendermorphs with my unborn child. I mean, you can't even see if it worked, in there. What if it came out all-" Ginny made a face, curling her hands a bit as she attempted to portray deformity.

Hermione looked around. "That'd be no good. We don't even have any bell towers around here to hide them in."

Ginny looked blank, and Hermione sighed internally. She needed to save the Muggle jokes for Harry, really. Or Susan. Or get Ginny to read. Shaking her head a bit, the redhead said, "Either way, I wouldn't want to tamper with the results. I feel like we should get what we get and be happy with it, you know? Besides, what if I change the external genitalia, but then my poor baby goes through life wishing she were a boy? Or thinking she ought to be? I couldn't live with the guilt."

"But what if the opposite?" Hermione argued. "What if it's a baby born a boy who spends their life wishing to be a girl? You'd be saving them from years of misery."

Ginny groaned. "Ugh. You are making my head spin. What they really ought to do is make a spell for an actual person to switch genders, if they feel like it. That way, everyone could know for sure," she suggested. "Also, if you change your mind, you could always go back."

Hermione fell silent as she imagined it. A world with people swapping genders just when they felt like it – hell, the ones that felt fluid could just go back and forth at their will, depending on how they felt that day. She wondered if that would be one of the weird exceptions to wizarding society's generally conservative viewpoint – like how skin color never seemed to matter. "You think they'd make one for people who don't want to be either, too?"

Ginny shrugged. "Why not? Just give them something to do their toilet business out of and leave the rest of it alone."

Now that the mood felt less tense, Hermione stopped and pulled Ginny in for a hug. "You're really happy with this decision?" she asked, gently. "I don't want to hear later that you felt pressured to go one way or another, do you hear?"

Pulling back, Ginny sighed, smiling. "I made this one on my own, I promise. I think I may go for that Prophet job, after all."

Hermione smiled. "You always did love writing. I can't believe you ever stopped."

Ginny shrugged a bit. "I guess it was hard to find the time."

"Well, you'll have some during your pregnancy. You can probably start up as an occasional correspondent. And you'll still get to watch the games, too," Hermione added.

The redhead flashed her a grin. "Free tickets," she crowed, pumping her fists.

She declined to remind her that Harry could buy all the tickets she could ever want. When it came to the Weasleys, having a lot of money was great, but feeling like one had scored a sweet deal was even better. Also, being given free stuff was a status symbol, and if Ron was any indication, status symbols were everything.

0o0o0o0o0o0

She stood just outside of line at the check-out for a long time, contemplating the brown sugar in her hand. She shouldn't buy it. She shouldn't reward his temper tantrums. She should make him go out into the world and get his own stupid sugar.

She should probably stop being such a petty jerk.

After all, she had promised to get it the day before. Sighing as she realized she was going to buy it, she stepped into line, glowering at everyone around her as she paid for the damn box of sugar and all but stomped outside. She was in a right foul mood the entire walk home, too. Every step, she'd practice some blistering retort to some imaginary insult of his, compiling her half of what she assumed would be an argument of epic proportions.

She briefly considered apologizing. Briefly.

As it was, when Hermione stepped through the front door of her apartment, she found Draco at the kitchen table. He was silent, although he glanced up at her as she entered.

Hermione brandished the box of sugar with a mocking smile as she headed towards the cupboard to put it away. He didn't say a word as she opened it, falling still when she saw an identical box of sugar sitting right on the first shelf.

Setting her box on the counter, she put a hand on her hip and stared up at it, sighing deeply. "Sorry," she said, shortly.

There was a beat of silence. "Me, too," he said, just as shortly.

"Dinner?"

"Sushi."

She gave him a curt nod, and he stood to grab his coat.

0o0o0o0o0o0

He dipped his sushi in his soy sauce mixture, his pale eyelashes guarding his eyes from her. He'd gotten a lot better at using chopsticks. "I keep messing this one up," he finally said, ending the reign of silence. "The potion. It's supposed to come out purple and smelling of lilac. I've remade it nine times." He said the words flatly, almost like he was past the feeling of disappointment.

She looked up at him, a little surprised to hear him talking about his work at all. He was so guarded about it, and she'd never figured out why. "Did you want me to look at it?"

"No," Draco said, sharply.

Hermione stared at him, some of the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. Was he worried that she'd outshine him? That she'd figure out what he'd been toiling over before he had a chance to do so? For the first time in their relationship, Hermione found herself feeling awkward about her intelligence. With Ron, it had never been a handicap. Their interests had been too different in nature for him to have ever really felt threatened by her braininess. She'd never turned her mind towards chess or Quidditch, after all.

After a few seconds of contemplative silence, she changed the subject. "Ginny's pregnant," she said, feeling safe enough announcing it now that Ginny had made her decision.

Draco blinked at the piece of fish dangling between his chopsticks. His expression softened for just a moment. "That's great," he murmured, a hint of wistfulness touching his tone. "Good for her. I know they wanted a girl, next time around."

"Yeah," Hermione said, ignoring his tone entirely. She could not think about being pregnant, right now. "They want to use the name Lily, if they get one."

"What name would you want?" he asked, suddenly.

She stared at him, stunned by the question. "I... don't know," she finally admitted, frowning a bit. "I've never really given it much thought. I suppose I could follow all my friends' leads and try and name them after my parents. Rose and David?"

"On my mother's side, constellation or star names are traditional," he said. "On my father's-"

"Roman Emperors seems to be the theme for the Malfoys," she said, in a dry tone.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I was going to say, the middle name of the firstborn son is typically that of his father's. So if we were following that theme, it'd be-"

"Taurus Draco Malfoy?" she suggested, innocently. "Ursa Minor Draco M-"

"Stop," he ordered, groaning and rolling his eyes. "There are astronomy-themed names that don't sound stupid. For instance, mine. My name is wonderful. It's elegant and strikes fear into the hearts of everyone." Ignoring her incredulous snort, he barreled on: "And my mother and aunts obviously have beautiful names. You can't say they don't."

She popped a tuna roll in her mouth, chewing and swallowing as she considered him. "Alright. What name would you want to give your son or daughter?"

"I like Scorpius," he began, and scowled when she burst into laughter. "What."

Hermione stopped, staring at him. "Oh, dear Lord, you're serious," she whispered, horrified. She slowly began to chuckle again. "What an utterly ridiculous name- you can't honestly mean to name your son Scorpius. Are you trying to get him beat up in school?"

"Your name is Hermione, and you're going to say that Scorpius is a stupid name?" he demanded.

"What's wrong with Hermione?" she retorted, indignant.

"That's the name of a little girl who gets her pigtails pulled and her glasses stomped on," Draco growled, leaning forward to point at her. "As you damn well know. Scorpius is a perfectly fine name. And if it was a girl, I'd want to name her Cassiopeia. I suppose you have a problem with that, too."

She blew a bit of a raspberry, but tilted her head as she considered it. "That's actually not too terrible. I could call her Cassie. That's usually short for Cassandra, and I've always thought that a pretty name."

"I like Scorpius," Draco said, mutinously.

"What am I going to call him for short?" she complained. "Scorpy?"

"Don't call him a nickname. He's a Malfoy, for Merlin's sake. Nicknames are for moneyless idiots who can't learn how to spell their proper given name."

She inspected her nails. "Whatever you say, Drake."

He stiffened, shooting her a murderous look. "Don't," he warned, his voice flat. When she smiled, his glare intensified. "I'm serious. Not ever again. Don't you ever call me that. Hermione, look at me. Never again."

"But Drakey," she cooed, pouting a bit – her best imitation of Pansy. He recoiled from her, and she leaned in towards him. "What's wrong, Drakey-poo?"

"Hermione!" he barked, in a commanding tone.

She batted her eyelashes at him. "I love when my little Drakey-wakey is so authoritative," she simpered, curling her hands together and pressing her cheek to them as she let loose a lovelorn sigh.

He picked up a piece of sushi and jabbed it at her mouth. "Just put this in your face. Put this in your face, and shut up."

She squawked in surprise when he jabbed it against her lips and he used the opportunity to force it between her teeth. She protested wordlessly as he extracted the chopsticks, and began to chew, a stupid smile spreading across her face as she watched his scowl slowly fade away. He hid his own smile behind his palm, leaning his face into it as he planted his elbow on the table.

"You're so annoying," he complained, when he got his smile under control.

"You love it," she accused, lightly.

The look he gave her was searing, and she realized a bit too late just what she'd said. She felt her cheeks heat, and watched him as he shrugged, his eyes going half-lidded. "I suppose I've gotten rather used to it," he agreed, and the look in his eyes made her drop her gaze to the table. She didn't need any prompting to put another piece of sushi in her mouth and shut up.

0o0o0o0o0o0

When they got back home, he went back to work on his potion. She wanted to offer a helping hand, again, but after his stern reaction at dinner, she didn't dare. Instead, she took the book Lucius had given her for her birthday and disappeared into the closet with it.

The book couldn't be opened in any sort of light, but when it was opened in absolute darkness, the runes glowed off the page. She'd spent the last few weeks painstakingly trying to transcribe it in her free time. It was slow going; the process was so time consuming that she'd only made it about twenty pages in. It was as follows:

1: Go into closet and open book.

2: Desperately try to memorize a couple of the runes.

3: Close the book and leave the closet, where a parchment is waiting.

4: Write down the runes before memory fails.

5: Return to closet and open book.

Once the entire book was copied, she was going to work on the actual translating. The runes were prehistoric, pre-dating even known Ancient Runes, but with the book Lucius had lent her previously, she thought she stood a chance of at least a partial translation.

Which she found pretty exciting.

She was staring at a few runes, memorizing the strokes of them, when a knock sounded on the closet door. "Hermione, are you almost done? It's nearly eleven," Draco said through the door.

"Yes, I'll be out in a moment," she promised. She stared at the runes for a second longer and shut the book, setting it on the ground as she stepped out, weaving around Draco to go for the parchment on her dresser to scratch down her copies. As she finished, she felt his arms circle around her. The smell of singed thyme clung to him. "You smell like potions."

"You smell like a swotty pear," he returned, burying his face in her hair.

She chuckled when his hand crept up her shirt. "Did Ginny tell you about make-up sex?" she demanded, suspiciously. His hand paused for just a second. "I knew it."

He turned her around, leaning into her to bend her back over the dresser a bit. His hands planted on either side of her, he leaned in to brush his lips against hers. "Maybe she did," he admitted. "But you can't deny that it sounds like an awfully decent perk for the misery of fighting."

"You were miserable?" she asked, somewhat disbelieving.

Draco's eyes found hers. "More than you'd ever believe," he said, seriously, and he deepened the kiss before she could respond. His hands slid across the slick wood of the dresser until they formed against the small of her back, pulling her with him as he stepped back and swiveled towards the bed. He slid his hands under her shirt again, but this time it was to lift her blouse over her head.

Her fingers worked at his shirt buttons as he fell forward into her, pinning her to the bed. She gasped when his mouth found her throat, sucking a mark there. Suddenly, the simple act of disrobing seemed complicated and unnecessary.

She wanted him now.

Moaning softly, she abandoned his shirt and undid the front of his pants. Echoing her fervor, he shoved her skirt up until it was bunched around her waist, his slender fingers smoothing possessively over her thighs as he hiked her knees up around him. She got him free of his pants, and he pulled her knickers to the side as he slid into her with a groan.

He picked up a fast, frantic pace that left her head reeling as he shoved her bra up over her collarbone, leaning down to close his mouth over her nipple and nip at the sensitive skin there. He couldn't wait, so he pulled her hand into place over herself in a silent plea.

She didn't need much urging, her finger circling her clit rapidly as he pounded into her, both of their voices rising in crescendo with each other.

He managed to hold off just until he felt her shudder, and then buried himself in her with a yell that was muffled against the soft flesh of her chest. Hermione let out a whimpering cry as she came, feeling herself pulse around him. Then, he sank against her, a dead weight, and she could only just barely pull her hand out from between them.

When he caught his breath, Draco said, "Let's fight more often."

She laughed, the sound weak with his weight on top of her. "No!" She curled her legs around his.

"Well, let's shag like we did fight, then," he compromised, lifting up his head to look at her. He ran his lips along her chin and nibbled at the pulse in her throat.

She exhaled, sleepy and content. "Alright, deal."

0o0o0o0o0o0

"I think I'm going to tell him that I love him," Hermione said, and Susan dropped her spatula in shock, turning to stare at her.

Ginny's mouth fell open in raw delight. "But it's only been seven months," she pointed out, eyes narrowing a bit. "What happened to the timeline? You know the rules, Hermione, it has to be at least eighteen months before you drop the big 'L Word.'"

"Don't tease her!" Susan gasped, eyes widening at Ginny. "She won't do it!" She quickly moved over the table, her belly already gently swelling. It was barely noticeable, but Ron was already treating her like she was made out of spun sugar.

This was their first time really 'hanging out' at Ron and Susan's flat, and although the place was a little sporty for Hermione's liking, it was a fairly decent flat. The kitchen was homey with an eat-in breakfast nook, there was already a second bedroom for the new baby (Ron had painted it light blue with yellow ducks. After the first aborted attempts at trying to make ducks, he'd finally caved and used a stencil). The flat seemed to echo the Burrow in the theme of 'there is no theme, and we picked up all this furniture from random houses strewn throughout the world.'

"So why the change of heart?" Ginny teased, picking up a biscuit.

Flushing a bit, Hermione shrugged. "One of us has to say it, first," she said, in a reasonable tone. "I know we're both... already at that point. It's just that neither of us will say it. And I suppose someone ought to."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I can always rely on you to strip the romance out of everything. Want to destroy a few of my favorite fairy tales, while you're at it?"

"Belle in Beauty and the Beast has a classical taste of Stockholm's syndrome," Hermione shot back, bristling a bit. "Sleeping Beauty was date-raped. Snow White was eleven. Rapunz-"

"Stop!" Ginny groaned, covering her ears with her hands.

Susan grabbed Hermione's hands to draw her attention back to her. She was smiling ecstatically. "How are you going to do it?" she asked, bouncing in her chair. "Are you going to wait for the right moment, or just come home and say it? Oh, I wish I could see his face when you do it," she said, wistfully. "I bet he'll go all slack-jawed and then get that little smile on his face when he's caught off-guard by you doing something cute."

"He doesn't- what are you talking about?" Hermione scoffed.

"He does it when you're not looking," Ginny said, waving her question away impatiently. "So, what is the plan?"

"There isn't one," Hermione said. "I'll just... I don't know. I'll just say it when I go home tonight. If I try and wait for a right 'moment,' I'll probably just end up putting it off forever. Might as well get it squared away right now, don't you think?"

Ginny threw a biscuit at her face. "Stop making it sound like an item on a bloody to-do list!"

"Hey!" Hermione brushed the crumbs from her shirt with a scowl. "Look, I don't want it to be some momentous thing. I just feel like we're purposefully avoiding saying it at this point, so I might as well get it over with so those moments don't get all awkward."

Susan squealed, putting her shaking fists by her face as she struggled to contain her excitement. "When it's over, pull the memory out into a Pensieve for us!"

"Then you can hurry up and get knocked up like us," Ginny added, bouncing her eyebrows.

"No thank you. I can't afford to take any more time off work. That honeymoon already put me behind for the year," Hermione said, pursing her lips. "I've been playing catch-up ever since."

Ginny pointed at her and looked at Susan. "Do you see what I've dealt with all these years?"

Hermione pointed at Ginny. "Do you see what I've dealt with all these years?" she countered. Ginny slapped her pointing finger down, and Hermione slapped Ginny's down as she re-erected it. This little slap-fight continued for about ten seconds before Susan finally managed to pin at least one of their hands to the table.

"Let's all agree that you're both awful company," she suggested, brightly. "I'm clearly the best of the lot."

"I ain't taking that from no Hufflepuff," Ginny said, her eyes narrowing a bit as she affected an American-ish, cowboy-esque drawl. She made a finger gun and pointed it at Susan, who pulled out her own finger gun just as quickly. They faced off for a moment, until Hermione pulled out two finger guns and pointed it at both of them.

"Why don't we all take a breather, cowboys," Hermione drawled in her own Wild West accent. Ginny and Susan both drew their second finger guns and trained them on her.

Susan's eyes darted between them. "This town's only big enough for one of us."

"You can't just claim a whole town. There's at least twelve buildings in a town," Ginny huffed. "Learn to share."

"That's a good point," Hermione admitted. "Truce?"

All three of them slowly started to lower their hands, until suddenly Susan's popped back up. "Bang! Bang!" she said, cocking them at Ginny and Hermione's heads, respectively. "Ha ha ha! The town and its General Store are all mine!"

"You bitch!" Ginny gasped, and Hermione burst into laughter.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Hermione Flooed to the Leaky and decided to walk home, needing the time to work up the courage to be the first one to Say It in a new relationship. Even if that relationship had already been taken to marriage and she knew with near certainty that he loved her, it was still scary to say it first.

She repeated the words to herself as she walked up the stairs to her flat. Draco, I love you. I love you, Draco. Draco, I have something to say, and it's that I love you.

"I suck at rehearsal," she sighed as she stood outside her door.

She opened her door to utter chaos.

Draco was cursing as he fussed about his potions bench, flitting between it and the Floo, which had the tell-tale flames of a Floo-call but no person actually inside the flames. "Merlin's tits," Draco snarled, darting back to the Floo and inserting his hand into the flames, waving it around. Nothing appeared. He looked up at Hermione, standing flabbergasted in the doorway, and snapped, "Help me! I just found out that the deadline for my entrance essay was yesterday, and I was in a Floo call with the head of the Centre to explain myself and your stupid Floo is cutting out!"

She closed the door, already feeling the courage she'd gathered on the walk over withering away as he ranted and raved at her Floo. If she didn't do this, now, she wasn't sure when she'd find the courage to do it, again. "Draco..."

"I didn't even finish the bloody thing, I was waiting on that third potion to finally realize," he exclaimed, trying to extinguish the Floo's fire to start up again. "I need an extension. They'll give me an extension, won't they? Hell, I'll pay them for an extension. They can't deny me an extension. I'm Draco sodding Malfoy! I'll call my father-"

"Draco," she tried to interrupt, feeling like she was ready to throw up at any second. She had to spit the confession out before she really did puke everywhere.

"He'll set them straight," he ranted. "Nobody goes toe to toe with my father and lives to-"

"Draco!"

"What?" he exploded, turning to glare at her incredulously. His eyes were wide with panic. "Why are you standing there and not helping?"

"Draco, I'm in love with you," she said, in a rush.

"I know that!" he snapped, turning away from her impatiently to try and stoke the Floo back to life again. Hermione stared at him, her mouth falling open in shock at his response. Oblivious, he muttered angrily to himself, and slapped his palm against the side of the Floo when the fire failed to return. "I need matches. No. My wand. Where the bloody hell is my wand?"

She continued to gape at him. "Draco!" she huffed, putting her hands on her hips.

"You're still just standing there?" he demanded, gesturing at her as he tried to find his wand. He was checking the couch cushions.

Hermione saw it on the floor underneath the recliner and picked it up. His eyes lit up and he reached for it, and she crossed her arms, glaring at him.

"What?" he asked, irritated. "Give that to me!"

"Did you just respond to me saying I'm in love with you with 'I know'?" she shrieked. "I should snap this stupid thing!"

"What should I have said?" he asked, staring up at her in utter, incredulous betrayal.

She scoffed, disbelieving. "Usually people say something like 'I love you, too.'" Her voice had grown very shrill in the past few seconds. Crookshanks flinched at the volume of it and slunk off the recliner and down the hallway to her bedroom, growling deep in his throat.

"Of course I love you, you stupid swot!" he yelled. "I should think that's fairly obvious. Give me my wand!"

"How is that obvious?" she screeched.

"I do not have time to play that little game you women like to play where you pretend like you're too stupid to notice everything around you," he groaned, exasperated. He stood and closed the distance between them, reaching for his wand, and growled in low warning when she held it behind her back, still glaring up at him. "You know damn well I'm in love with you and that I've been for months, so give me my thrice-damned wand before I throttle you. I don't have time for this, I'm already late!"

"I'm invoking my childish thing!" she screamed back into his face.

He stared at her, his eyebrows drawn together in utter confusion. "What," he said, flatly.

"You said I could have one childish thing that you had to indulge, no matter what, no matter the circumstances," she said, a little embarrassed of how much her voice was trembling. "And I'm invoking it now, and it's that when I say something emotionally revealing, you have to stop everything and pay it all of your attention."

Draco blinked down at her, stunned, and she saw some of the panic leave his expression, slowly being replaced by wonder as he regarded her. His face softened, and he exhaled in a rush. When he spoke, all the anger had left his voice, leaving it soft and a little raw. "I didn't think you'd say it, first," he admitted. "Ginny told me I apparently wasn't allowed to until a year and a half."

She swallowed. "Well, that was... a stupid rule I made up, I guess," she muttered.

He smiled, reaching his hands up to circle around her neck and the back of her head. "I love you," he said, seriously, before he pressed his lips softly to hers.

She felt her heart flutter even as relief poured over her, and she pressed up into the kiss needily.

When it ended, he murmured, against her lips: "And I will love you so much more if you help me get my essay finished in time to send it in tonight."

She burst into giggles, pressing his wand into his hand. "You know how much I love essays."