I hope everyone is having a good end of the year. Hard to believe that next time I post, it will (finally) be 2021.

This chapter takes places immediately following the last. I continue to really enjoy writing Shiloh. She's got quite the little personality.

Major love to MsMerlin and GracefulLioness.

True to her nature, Hermione dove into research shortly after Harry and Ginny's engagement party. Draco watched as she came home from work an hour late one day in August. He'd cocked his head in her direction, about to open his mouth to ask what her delay had been as he played dollies with Shiloh from the living room floor.

And then she pulled out the books.

Stacks and stacks of books came out of that clever beaded bag of hers until they took up most of the kitchen table.

"Where are we supposed to eat?" Draco laughed as he made his way over to her, lips lifting into a smile. "I didn't know we were starting a library here in the kitchen."

Hermione just rolled her eyes. "Oh, hush. I'll organize them in a moment."

He scoured the titles as Hermione fished her wand out of its holster.

Fertility for the Modern Woman

Conception and Fertility Book Guide

Conditions of the Uterus and Female Sexual Organs

"Hermione, are these—? Are these what I think they're for?"

"Wingardium Leviosa!" She flicked her wand and the books flew gently in the air toward a cleared shelf in the living room. "I checked them out of the Muggle library down the street after work. I figured that I was ready to do that research we talked about."

Draco watched as a smile grew on Hermione's face. Her eyes danced. This was the Hermione he knew. The one who loved nothing more than a challenge she could solve by reading. And knowing her as well as he did, it was instantly obvious that this research would occupy all her free time.

After dinner, she sat down with one of the books and started the process. She also read before bed. In the morning, she read between bites of porridge. Although he wasn't there to prove it, he Draco had a sneaking suspicion that she read on between meetings and during all her breaks at the Ministry.

Before even a week had passed, she had filled nearly four whole rolls of parchment with notes.

Draco offered to read a few titles as well and take his own notes. "Two sets of eyes are more likely to find a solution than one," he insisted when Hermione brought home yet another stack of books.

While she was more than willing to lend him some of the books, she declined the note-taking, claiming she had a system worked out. Still, he kept a spare bit of parchment tucked in his bedside table, and would occasionally jot down interesting ideas or thoughts when he came across them. Although, he had to admit, reading the Muggle medical texts proved far more confusing than he had anticipated. He was a Healer, yes, but a paediatric one. His knowledge of female anatomy was rather limited to more pleasurable pursuits, specifically with Hermione. So when the books started using more technical terms, it became obvious rather quickly that he was out of his depth. Oftentimes, he had to clarify some of the more grisly details with Hermione as they sat side-by-side in bed.

"You mean they pull the baby out then sew you up? Like a darned sock or patched robes?" He indicated a rather graphic series of illustrations depicting the removal of a child from a woman's abdomen and the steps before and after.

Hermione glanced over at him from her side of the bed and rolled her eyes. "Yes, Draco. Are you reading about cesarean sections, then?"

The thought of retrieving a baby that way made him feel a bit lightheaded, and after that, Draco decided to leave the research to Hermione, who didn't seem fazed at all.

Draco took charge of Shiloh while Hermione buried herself in research. They had recently enrolled her in daycare and she seemed to take the whole thing with aplomb. Though she had cried on the first day, dragging her feet, kicking and screaming all the way to the classroom, she had dropped the dramatics after a week. Now, the two year-old toddled into the classroom with a grin each morning.

The teacher recently informed him that she was somewhat of a leader in the classroom. Which had been a point of pride at first until she went onto explain that meant encouraging other two year-olds to jump in mud puddles and take an extra pudding for her.

Then, he had been caught between momentary embarrassment and excitement that his daughter was definitely going to be sorted into Slytherin.

Cunning little thing.

Hermione was always mindful to take a break from her research to eat dinner as a family. Shiloh was slowly becoming a better conversationalist, answering questions about her day with the simple words she knew. Hermione always asked about what she was learning, and the two year-old was happy to oblige, bursting into various songs about days of the week or colours at the dinner table.

It certainly wasn't the sort of family dinner he had grown up with as a child. There were no house elves spoon feeding him at a little table in the nursery. Silence wasn't encouraged over conversation, and full place settings were not required.

It was infinitely better.

And as the weeks passed and Hermione brought home a second wave of books, Draco began to look at the fourth, empty side of their kitchen table with longing.

It was the perfect place for a high chair.

Draco wanted another child more than anything. When Scorpius had been conceived, the idea of a second baby was beyond overwhelming. It had sent him into panic. They had only been students at the time and were still recovering from the trauma of the war. Scorpius had been wanted, yes, but that love hadn't been immediate.

Now, Draco knew he had the love to give another baby.

He just didn't want to press Hermione too hard. Her job was already stressful enough thanks to her stupid boss, and they both knew that all her research might be for naught.

He didn't want to get his hopes up.

But still, as he tucked Shiloh into her big girl bed, he couldn't help but let his mind wander to the cot they had tucked away in the back of a closet.

It wasn't until Halloween came and went that Hermione sat down with him one evening, a sparkle in her eye. Shiloh was already fast asleep, and they sat in the living room surrounded by scattered toys both magical and muggle.

"I found it."

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Found it?"

Hermione summoned a book from her shelf of library volumes and opened it to a bookmarked page. She turned the title in his direction and indicated a chapter title with her finger.

Uterine Scar Tissue Removal Procedures

"Can a Muggle Healer—"

"A doctor."

"Can a doctor do this? Remove scars?" His eyes scoured the page, trying to absorb information like his girlfriend had.

Hermione nodded. "They can. I'd need to see a Gynaecologist—that's a doctor who works with women. They'd likely refer me to a surgeon."

"Surgeon?" Draco balked. His mind whipped back to the horrific illustrations in the last Muggle medical text he'd read. "As in surgery? Like, cutting you open?"

"Well, yes. But—"

"Absolutely not."

He watched as Hermione got the annoyed glint in her eye that she always got when trying to explain something Muggle. Even though he sometimes thought it was cute, he was too consumed with the images that flooded into his head at the thought of someone taking a knife to her.

"It's perfectly safe, Draco. I'll be fast asleep the whole time. People who do this job have gone to school for it. Trained for years." Hermione reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, offering him comfort. As if he was the one who would be cut open. "And besides, many procedures involving uterine scarring don't involve surgery like you're thinking. We'd have to talk to a doctor to be sure, but I'm quite sure it's a simple procedure."

Draco recognised the fire in Hermione's eyes. There was certainty there. Determination. Not fear.

He flipped through the chapter of the book Hermione had handed him. There was more medical jargon. A few anatomical diagrams.

Frankly, he wanted to put a stop to the whole thing. Call it off. Tell Hermione he'd be satisfied with one child and to not put her life at risk. But as he looked up from the book, his eye caught sight of the fourth, empty side of the table. Right where a baby would go while they ate their family dinner together.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed deeply. "Well, if you're sure…"

"I am."

No fear.

Draco's jaw set and he pursed his lips. "Well then, it looks like we need to take you to the doctor, Granger."

The Muggle doctor seemed competent... enough.

Like Hermione, her office was lined with stacks and stacks of books. This, more than anything, seemed to give Hermione confidence. He watched the way she perked up the moment they sat down in leather chairs across from the doctor at her desk.

Much as anticipated, Hermione was diagnosed with uterine scarring. To confirm, the doctor performed a procedure that reminded Draco of the one antenatal appointment he had been able to attend before Shiloh was born. The doctor stared at a little black and white telly while moving an object over Hermione's stomach, and was somehow able to discern scarring from the fuzzy image. The doctor explained that while it was normally an outpatient procedure, the severity of scarring required more invasive work and an overnight stay.

Surgery was scheduled for shortly before Christmas.

Hermione was looking forward to the event, it seemed. Or at the very least, was eager to have it over and done with. She crossed off a square on her wall calendar every morning before breakfast as she counted down the days until the procedure.

Draco had a similar sort of daily activity. Only his didn't involve crossing anything off or counting. Every morning, right after Hermione left for the Ministry, Draco went to his dresser and pulled out a small box from his sock drawer.

He'd had it for over a year, now. Carried around in his pocket every once in a while. It wasn't a family heirloom like his mother had offered to him. Hermione deserved something fresh. Untainted. Entirely her own.

It was a simple design, much like she'd prefer it to be, with a modest diamond and a delicate embellishment of vines in the band. And on the inside, a small engraving.

It was the perfect engagement ring for Hermione, or at least he hoped.

The only problem was that he hadn't yet found the perfect time to ask.

And of course, that she still had to say yes.

More recently, he'd settled on Christmas. He'd get down on one knee in front of the Christmas tree. Maybe have Shiloh bring the box over. Maybe he'd take her ice skating or to some romantic place all lit up with fairy lights. The details were still a bit foggy.

But the goal had been Christmas until that damn surgery had been scheduled.

Now, he woke up each day with a never-ending barrage of what-ifs weighing on his chest, and the thought of never being able to ask the love of his life to marry him made a terrible, existential sadness sit deep in his bones.

Whenever Draco had a moment to himself in recent weeks, he liked to take the box out of its hiding place. Turn it over in his hands and think.

Knowing Hermione, she was completely focused on the surgery. Anything else—even something as life-changing as a proposal, would be considered a distraction. And yet, Draco wanted to do something for her. Something big. A grand gesture, even.

So he turned the box over and over in his hands and thought.

And then he sent an owl.

Three days before the surgery was set to take place, Draco begged off work for the afternoon, changing out of his Healer robes and into a pair of Muggle trousers and his Weasley jumper. Checking his watch, he Apparated to a quiet corner of Heathrow and waited on a bench.

The taxi back home was awkward and silent, but for Hermione, he would do anything.

Stepping through the front door, he was instantly greeted by the pitter-patter of little feet.

"Daddy!" Shiloh came careening toward them from the living room where she had clearly been watching telly. He scooped up his daughter and she planted an innocent smack of a kiss on his lips.

Her attention then turned to the two guests behind him.

"Daddy, who's that?"

He had been about to open his mouth when he saw Hermione turn the corner from the kitchen, where she had been cooking dinner.

The saucepan in her hand fell to the floor with a clatter.

"Shiloh, love. This is your Grandma and Grandpa Granger. Mummy's parents."

The Grangers stood in the doorway, looking slightly frazzled and slightly out of place in heavy Muggle coats.

Draco hovered off to the side, unsure of whether he should stay to mediate or step away to offer privacy.

He settled on a solution halfway between, keeping Shiloh in his arms and retreating just out of sight to the kitchen.

"Come on, pixie. Let's finish dinner while Mummy says hello to her parents. Scourgify!"

The mess from the dropped saucepan disappeared. As he passed by Hermione, who stood frozen, her mouth agape, he leaned in so his mouth was right by her ear.

"If you want to hex me for this, do it later, please."

Based on her facial expression, Draco couldn't quite tell if she wanted to kill him or kiss him. Perhaps both.

In the kitchen, he set Shiloh down on the counter and fetched the small basket of takeaway menus they kept on hand. Shiloh pointed at the pictures and began a laundry list of foods she wanted for dinner, ranging from chips to kebab to pizza.

"Daddy, I wan' taw-bery cake too!"

He was doing his best to pay attention to his daughter with one ear and eavesdrop with the other. As far as he could tell, Hermione and her parents were talking. Their voices were rather hushed. He bent his head, unable to help but think that now would have been the perfect time for an Extendable Ear.

"—should've come and visited—"

"—heard about your surgery—"

"—sorry—"

"Daddy!"

Draco blinked. He turned to see Shiloh wearing a large pout.

"I wan' taw-bery cake, okay?"

"—how dare you—"

Draco mentally cursed. He knew that tone of voice anywhere. Perhaps he should have stayed to mediate.

Shiloh started tugging on his sleeve. "Sure, pixie. Whatever you want." He waved his hand and Shiloh gave a delighted cry.

In the other room, he heard cries of another sort. Begging Merlin silently that this hadn't all been a massive mistake Draco lifted Shiloh down from the counter and poked his head around the corner to see into the entryway.

Hermione was sandwiched between her parents. Her head was buried in her dad's chest and her mum stroked her head gently. Their arms surrounded her and tears flowed freely among the three of them.

Peeking out between her dad's parka and her mane of curls, a tiny smile pulled at Hermione's lips.

The smile stayed all the way through dinner, even as Shiloh demanded the strawberry cake she had been promised. It stayed as they bid her parents goodnight and guided them to the guest bedroom. It stayed even as they prepared for bed.

Draco had braced himself for the confrontation of a lifetime—for his own barrage of "how dare yous" to come the second their bedroom door was closed and silenced.

What he hadn't expected was for Hermione to sink to her knees and give him the best blowjob of his life.

"Does this mean I should spring relatives on you unexpectedly more often?" He managed through heavy breath as he laid spreadeagled on their bed, eyes drooping with pleasant exhaustion. "Because if that's my reward, then I'll be happy to find all your long-lost great aunts."

Draco's smirk was met with his favourite fiery gaze.

"I love you, Draco Malfoy, but you got lucky this time. If you ever do something like that again, I will personally poison your pumpkin juice."

With a final and brief kiss, Hermione turned over onto her side to sleep.

Draco stretched out on his side of the bed, thoroughly spent and sated. Although Hermione had meant her words to be a threat, it was a risk he might be willing to take if it meant seeing that fire again.

Getting sucked off again might also be good.

It wasn't until the Grangers arrived in the UK that Hermione's nerves about the surgery began to show. The brave face she had been wearing crumpled overnight. She could hardly eat a bite of anything in front of her. Her leg bounced whenever she was sitting and her hands fidgeted in her lap. She lost track of her thoughts in the middle of sentences and nearly Flooed to the wrong destination twice.

Draco thought it would be stressful to have Hermione's parents around, but they were more than happy to watch Shiloh. Otherwise, Draco might have felt like he was taking care of two toddlers.

Hermione had taken the rest of the week off to spend time with her parents before the surgery. Having her around more meant that Draco didn't have the same opportunities he usually did to take the box out of his dresser drawer and contemplate his impending proposal. It just seemed too risky. The idea of being caught with the ring in his hands was practically mortifying.

Perhaps he should have left it in the drawer. Just waited until Christmas and asked in a simple way as they unwrapped presents. But he always thought best about the whole situation when he could feel the texture of the box against his fingertips.

Against his own better judgment, Draco began carrying it around in the pocket of his robes. When he had idle time—between patients at St. Mungo's or while he waited for the chicken he was preparing to cook all the way through, he'd place his hand inside and fiddle with it, contemplating possibilities of how to ask Hermione Granger to marry him.

The morning of the surgery, Draco Flooed to the Weasleys. They had agreed to watch Shiloh for the day while he and the Grangers accompanied Hermione to the hospital to wait there throughout the duration of the surgery.

Draco watched as Hermione hugged their daughter tightly before they stepped into the fireplace.

"Mummy, you squeeze me too tight," the toddler complained in a slightly squeakier voice than normal.

There was a small sniff and a drying of tears. Shiloh tilted her head and furrowed her brows in a way that reminded Draco exactly of Hermione when she was trying to understand a difficult text.

"Don't cry, Mummy." Shiloh placed her tiny hands on Hermione's cheeks. "You have a boo-boo?"

Hermione gave another sniff, but smiled through this one. "No, pixie. Mummy doesn't have a boo-boo. I'm just feeling a little sad this morning. But I want you to have fun with Nana Molly and Papa Arthur today, okay?"

Shiloh beamed and her eyes lit up, troubles instantly forgotten. "Nana Molly! Nana Molly!" She hopped toward the fireplace, arms in the air. He stepped up to the fireplace as well. The last thing he saw before he and Shiloh disappeared in a burst of emerald flames was Hermione's face, tear-stained and wearing a forced smile.

Dropping Shiloh off was relatively easy. The two year-old hardly said goodbye. She just ran straight into Mrs. Weasley's arms, easily distracted by the prospect of baking Christmas treats and a mug of hot chocolate.

Before he returned home, Mrs. Weasley shot him a knowing look through her armful of toddler.

Be brave, she seemed to say. Everything will be okay.

Bravery had never been his specialty.

The ride to the hospital was a quiet one. Draco wasn't sure he'd ever get used to Muggle cars, but the Grangers had insisted on renting one for the duration of their visit, explaining in slightly superior tones that they didn't think Hermione should Apparate after surgery.

He'd thought about making some sort of comment about how lovely it was that they finally cared about their daughter's wellbeing, but he bit his tongue instead.

They were trying. It had taken a handful of tense, silent meals and a couple shouting matches, but Hermione and her parents seemed to have reached a sort of equilibrium. In the darkness of their bedroom, she admitted to him that she was ready to move on—to forgive them for abandoning her. There had been many conversations that he had not been privy to. Many moments between parents and child. Three days wasn't much time to mend such deep wounds. That was something Draco knew well.

But when Hermione began to shake on the car ride over, her mum turned around from the front passenger's seat and offered her hand. Hermione clung to it like a lost child. As much as Draco liked to feel needed, in this moment, he knew Hermione needed a parental figure.

Though he had meant their presence to be a grand, sweeping gesture, Draco found that he didn't need a thank you. Just seeing them together was enough.

Hermione checked herself into the hospital while Draco hovered just behind her, listening closely. He'd have stepped in and ensured more details of her stay, but was relatively useless when it came to talking to Muggles.

He'd learned that the hard way when they first moved to their neighbourhood. Another family that lived down the street had started talking about buying a new car, and the husband had deliberately tried to engage Draco in a discussion about makes and models, but it was all Draco could do to remember that cars worked by pressing down pedals. He'd barely made it through riding a bike, and frankly, didn't very much feel like risking life and limb to learn how to drive automobiles. He was quite happy to stick with his Wizarding methods of transportation.

Despite his reluctance to welcome every aspect of Muggle life, it had been humbling, living amongst Muggles. Sometimes it felt like that's all Draco had been doing for years—continuously eating humble pie. The friendships he had with his old Slytherin crowd had suffered a bit for it, but that didn't matter. Not really. The friends who mattered stuck around.

Theo, mostly.

He'd sent an owl over the day before asking if there was anything he could do while Hermione had surgery.

Theo Nott had turned into a decent bloke. There were even rumours that he was spending a lot of time with Longbottom and his Hufflepuff girlfriend. Abbott. Hermione was innocently convinced that they had a delightful friendship, but knowing Theo as well as he did, Draco could only chuckle at his girlfriend's naïveté.

When Hermione finished signing in, a nurse emerged from a set of double doors to escort her back to the ward.

Her mum burst into tears.

Although Draco could see the fear in his girlfriend's eyes, she was the one who stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her mother, patting her back gently.

"I'll be just fine, Mum. It's a routine surgery."

"I know." Her mum wiped away tears from her cheeks. "Just being silly."

After sharing a brief hug with both her parents, Hermione held out her hand to Draco. "Ready?"

Was he ready to sit idly by while his girlfriend was cut open so they had a chance at having another child?

He nodded. "Ready."

The nurse was kind enough, and she seemed skilled as she ran through pre-surgery procedures. Draco marveled a bit at all of the unfamiliar metal instruments in the examination room, and after the nurse left to fetch the doctor, she hissed at him several times to stop touching everything.

Normally he wouldn't engage in such childish behavior, but it seemed to distract Hermione from the nerves she was clearly trying to suppress.

Her legs were bouncing, hands fidgeting, and she hadn't stopped biting her lip since arriving at the hospital. In her eyes, the usual fire had been replaced by fear.

Her brave facade stayed on while the surgeon popped in and reviewed the procedure one last time. It was only when a different nurse had hooked up some sort of tube to her arm that the mask she had been wearing began to crack.

It started with her breathing. It became shallow. Ragged. Rasping.

"Are you okay, love?" Draco was sitting on the edge of her hospital bed, fiddling with the flimsy excuse of a blanket when he noticed the change. "Do you need me to get a heal—er, nurse?"

She shook her head, closing her eyes as she clearly tried to steady herself.

Draco watched, moving to place his hand over hers.

Then came the shaking. It started all at once. One moment, she had been leaning back against the pillows and the next, she was sitting up, her torso and arms convulsing.

Draco stood, ready to get a nurse.

And then she started to cry.

Great sobs wracked her body, and there was no way he was about to leave her side. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and rubbed circles along her shaky back.

"What's wrong?" He frowned, confusion seeping into his brain. "Does it hurt? Is there something wrong with your… thing?" His eyes flicked to the tubes. They looked complicated.

It took a minute for Hermione to respond. She continued to shake, but Draco felt her purposely trying to steady her breathing. When she finally looked up at him, her eyes were wide—unseeing, almost. Swimming with tears. Her lips were trembling.

"I'm scared, Draco." She swallowed and gripped his hand in an iron grip. "What if—" Hermione sniffed. "—what if all this was for nothing? What if I'm still b-broken? What if something goes wrong and I—"

"Don't even say it." Draco cut her off, scooting closer. "It's going to be fine, Hermione. You're going to be fine."

"But what if I'm not going to be fine? What if something happens? What if you're left alone with Shiloh and you're forced to marry some awful Pureblood witch? Or what if it doesn't work and you still marry someone else? What if she's able to give you the heir you deserve when I can't?"

She was babbling now, and the tears had returned in full.

Draco wasn't sure quite what to say.

Was this what Hermione had been afraid of? They'd started up therapy again since scheduling the surgery. Why hadn't she mentioned anything? Mostly, she'd seemed excited.

Had she been lying? Or had he missed some cue?

And to think that she was worried about him running into someone else's arms...

He shook himself, trying to stay in the moment. He needed to do something. Say something.

"Love, I'm not marrying anyone else."

It seemed so obvious to him. Was it not? He pushed on.

"I want your surgery to go well. Of course I do. But if we still can't have another baby, we'll be okay."

Draco rearranged himself on the bed so their bodies aligned. He reached out, cradling her face with one hand. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes.

"I love you, Hermione. If the only child we have is Shiloh, that's more than enough for me. I won't press for another child. If you thought I wanted you to do this because I expected another baby, then I'm so sorry I gave that impression."

Hermione shook her head against his palm. "It wasn't you. I put so much pressure on myself… you know how I am."

"Yeah. I know." Draco managed a small snort. "But you don't need to. I love our life. I love you. And there's no one else that I'm going to marry."

The small box in his pocket suddenly felt very heavy.

He wanted to wait for Christmas. For a quiet, joyous occasion when he could make it memorable. For a moment when Hermione wasn't crying and he didn't have a porridge stain from Shiloh's breakfast on his trousers.

But something told him this was the moment he'd been waiting for.

"You can't know that, Draco. You can't know how you're going to feel when the doctor tells us that I can't have any more children and—"

"Hermione."

Draco moved his hand from her cheek and slid off the bed to stand.

Hermione drew back, as though she'd been burned. She looked an absolute mess. The shaking had largely subsided by now, but her face was a mess of tears.

She was beautiful.

"Hermione, love, you are the only woman I want. Ever since you showed me how to ride a bike, I've been long gone. You are the mother of my child and my best friend, and if you think that anything is going to change that, you're daft."

His fingers brushed the edges of the box.

If this was going to be the moment, he had to give it his all. Put it all on the line.

"But I know you, Hermione Granger. You're the smartest damn witch I ever met. So from now on, you should know that I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me, woman. Another baby or not, you're it."

His palm closed around the box.

"You are more than enough for me. You and Shiloh. You're all I'll ever need. Anything else would just, well—" A smile grew on his face as he found the right word. "—Anything else would be a gift."

Hermione was sitting up straight now. Though the vestiges of tears still painted her face, any traces of sadness had gone. Instead, her wide eyes searched his, waiting, anticipating—disbelieving.

He pulled out the box.

Hermione took one, deep, rattling breath.

Now or never, Malfoy.

He got down on one knee.

"Hermione Jean Granger, I love you. You're everything to me. The life we have is better than anything I could have ever imagined. You saved me from the darkest sides of myself. You save me every day. All I want to do is be by your side for whatever else comes our way."

He opened the box.

"Will you marry me?"

Although it was likely only a half-second that the world around him seemed to stop, it felt like an eternity. The air didn't stir. Sound didn't reach his ears. He wasn't even sure he blinked.

And then she nodded.

At the exact moment that he stood and Hermione fell forward into his arms, two figures walked into the room. Although Draco couldn't see them—his face was pressed into Hermione's hair, he could hear their footsteps and the immediate silence that fell over them.

"Yes, Draco. Yes." The words were muffled against his jumper.

All else was forgotten as he slipped the ring on her finger. Drach watched as the eyes that had been filled with fear moments before now held only wonder and love.

The nurses or doctors or whoever they hell they were applauded as Hermione hugged him again.

"Well then." One of the professionals stepped forward. "It's always best if a patient's in a good mood. What do you say we get your anaesthesia going? It's time to get you down to the OR."

Draco squeezed her hand. "It'll all be okay, love. I'll be here waiting for you when you get out."

She steeled herself as the Muggle healers messed with the tubes a bit and prepared to move her bed.

"See you after, fiancé?" There was a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she laid back on the hospital bed.

"I promise."

Waiting for the surgery to finish was the oddest form of torture Draco had ever experienced. Not because waiting, not knowing if someone was going to be okay, was unfamiliar to him.

No, it was odd because of Hermione's parents.

They spent the entire surgery pacing back and forth. Occasionally, distractions would come in the form of a magazine or a bag of crisps, but for the most part, they paced. To the double doors. And back. And to the double doors again. And then back.

It grated on Draco's nerves.

But he didn't snap.

How could he?

He had just proposed to Hermione and she had said yes. He was floating higher than any broomstick could carry him.

And of course, he could have easily put a stop to all the pacing by making the announcement to them. It would have made for a lovely distraction.

But he hadn't told her parents yet. He wanted to wait until she was there. Until she could take the brunt of their response.

And so he put up with the pacing.

For nearly four hours.

When the surgeon finally stepped through the double doors and removed his mask, Draco stood, his hands wringing in his lap. The Grangers stopped pacing.

The surgeon smiled.

Draco was lighter than air. He could have put up with a full day of pacing if it meant this was the outcome.

"It went incredibly well. We were able to remove all the scarring." The surgeon spoke as she led all three of them to the recovery room. Their shoes clicked on the shiny floors.

"And future children?" Draco swallowed as he waited for a response.

"Only time will tell." The surgeon led them through another set of double doors. "But I don't see any anatomical reason that Miss Granger should have trouble conceiving and carrying a child at this point."

Draco wanted to cry.

He wasn't sure what to expect when the surgeon led them to the recovery room. Half of him expected to see Hermione hooked up to a multitude of tubes, pale, and covered in scars. Instead, he found her much in the same state as he had left her earlier in the day. She was sleeping, her chest moving in a steady rhythm. Behind her, some electric thing beeped.

Draco reached forward and took her head.

Hermione's eyes fluttered open.

"D-raco?" Her speech was slurred as she looked at him through hooded eyes. "That you?"

"It's me, love. You're all finished with surgery."

He settled on the edge of her bed, much in the same place he had been before he proposed. Her parents hovered near her feet.

"Did I win?"

Draco frowned. It was like someone had cast a Confundus charm on her. Or had made her incredibly drunk. "Win? Hermione, you didn't—"

"Of course you did, sweetheart." Hermione's mum butted in, smiling benignly at her daughter.

"Oh goodie." Hermione giggled. "I like winning."

"We know you do, darling." Her dad patted her foot over the thin hospital blanket. When Draco furrowed his eyebrows, he whispered back, "It's the medicine. It helps with the pain but makes her a bit loopy."

Ah. Well that explained it.

Why Muggles couldn't come up with a way to manage pain without inhibiting brain function was beyond him.

"You know what else I won?" A dreamy smile floated across Hermione's face, and Draco was reminded clearly of Luna Lovegood.

"What's that, dear?" Her mum piped up.

"I won at life. I won Draco! He's my fee-on-say!" She rolled her head to grin at him. "Such a handsome fee-on-say."

Draco felt himself go purple as the Grangers' jaws dropped.

Hermione just looked confused.

"Why do you all look like that?" She rounded on Draco with the timing of a sloth. "Draco, are we still getting married?"

The pout on her face was so cute. It was hard to keep himself from laughing.

He vowed to buy a pensieve this week and store the memory there. Salazar knew it would be fun to lord this over her when she sobered up.

"Of course," he cooed, petting her hand. "We're still getting married."

She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. "Thank goodness. For a minute, I thought I dreamed it all."

Draco grinned to himself as the Grangers closed in on them for the beginnings of their enthusiastic reaction.

It wasn't a dream at all.

High Hermione might be my favorite. I've imagined this proposal quite a number of times, and this was the way that seemed right. I hope you all liked it and it seemed right.

On the next posting date, I will be traveling all day, so I might post a day early or late. But there will be a new chapter for the new year!

Cheers! I would love to know your thoughts as always.

Happy holidays!