She told him with books.

It was almost a non-option. She was Hermione Jean Malfoy, née Granger, after all; she had expectations to meet and a reputation to uphold.

Draco had given "dinner" a whole seven minutes before he set down his fork and demanded, "Out with it."

Hermione innocently batted her long lashes at her husband. They were seated across from each other at the round table in their quaint dining room. Her stomach filled up with even more nerves at the thought that they'd be moving out of their loft and buying a house soon—and knowing Draco, house would mean mansion.

"Huh?"

"Oh, don't even try it, Granger." Draco took a sip of his wine and eyed her suspiciously. "You've barely touched your food, and you're being unusually quiet. Something's up. What is it?"

The witch allowed herself to keep up the façade for only a few more seconds before sighing dramatically and staring at her small hands. "Fine... You know how I always tell you not to buy me anything while you're away on your business trips?"

"And I always ignore your request, and you always pretend to be annoyed when I bring you back extravagant jewelry." He smirked. "I'm familiar with this little pattern, yes."

Hermione pretended to be bashful as she said, "Well... I know you're going to Italy in a few days, and I... you see... IhavesomebooksIwantyoutobuy!"

Her husband stared at her for a good ten seconds before he erupted into laughter. He wiped at his eyes and shook his head. "Well, of course you do."

"Y-You wouldn't mind, would you? It's just, I really need them, and they're only sold in Wizarding Rome, and—"

"Granger," he said as though speaking to a child. "Your wish is my command."

Her face lit up. "Oh, good! I actually wrote out a list earlier." She conjured up the scrap of parchment and clutched it between her fingers tighter than she intended. She knew her hand was shaking, but she couldn't help it. Outstretching her arm, she held the list over his wine glass and locked her amber eyes on his gray. "Just... read it over, yeah?"

The wizard's eyes narrowed. He tilted his head and allowed his gaze to travel over his wife. She was definitely nervous, but it seemed to be an excited nervous. I know she's a bookworm, but is she seriously so nerdy she's shaking over getting new books?

He leant forward and extracted the piece of parchment from her hand, eyes never straying from hers. He relaxed into his seat before so much as glancing at the words his wife had scribbled in ink. But as he sifted through the list, he felt his entire world stop.

Motherhood & Magic

How to Care for Your Magical Baby

Wizard & Witch Parenting 101

300 Things to Know About Raising a Little Wizard or Witch

Draco's jaw dropped just a bit. He looked across the table, wide-eyed and in a daze. Hermione was smiling and tears were shining in her eyes.

"You're..."

She bit her lip and nodded, releasing a shaky breath.

The next thing he knew, Draco was holding his small witch in his arms and spinning her around. The moment he set her on her own two feet, he cupped her heart-shaped face with his hands and captured her lips with his.

"I'm going to be a father." The words sounded foreign to his own ears, and saying them out loud seemed to make him realize the gravity they held. "Oh, Merlin, I'm going to be a father..."

"And you'll be a great one," Hermione promised softly, brushing her thumb against his jaw. "Just like I'll be a great mother—so long as I get that book, of course," she added with a playful smirk.

Draco shook his head and looked down at his wife's flat torso. Soon a bump would appear as their little prince or princess (though he knew it'd be a prince; Malfoys always had boys) formed and developed inside her womb. He gently caressed her stomach and said almost inaudibly, "Hello, in there."

Hermione laughed joyfully as the tears spilled over and rolled down her cheeks. She kissed her husband slowly, passionately, then stood on her tiptoes and leaned her forehead against his. "We're going to be great at this."

"We have to celebrate." He paused suddenly and thought for a moment. "Can we still—will it hurt the baby if we—"

"We can still have sex," she assured him, nipping at the underside of his jaw. She was in the mood to celebrate, too. "It won't hurt the baby."

Draco was still extra careful with her, though, setting a slow and sensual pace for their celebratory love-making. In some ways, it was better than when they were rough. The way he handled her so delicately... the way he worshiped every inch of her body...

Hermione was certainly not complaining.

She told him with a smirk.

After months of Draco insisting that inside his wife's ever-growing stomach was a little heir, Hermione decided she was going to a Muggle doctor to prove they were having a little heiress. She told him she was going to do this, but she wouldn't tell him when.

So, on an otherwise average Wednesday evening when Draco got home from work, Hermione was waiting up for him in bed. She was sitting attentively, back against her favorite pillows, cockiness etched into every one of her features. She held up the sonogram she'd had done earlier in the day and waved it at him when he appeared in the doorway.

Draco stalked across the room and plucked the picture from his wife's fingers. Sure enough, there at the bottom read, SEX: FEMALE.

His lips parted at a loss for words. He stared at the image of their little girl for a good thirty seconds before looking up. His wife was still smirking triumphantly, as though she'd be content to wait hours for his reaction.

At last, he spoke.

"She's not dating until she's thirty."

Once the news sunk in that a Malfoy was going to have a daughter after centuries of his bloodline only having sons, Draco seemed to become even more sentimental about Hermione's pregnancy. He convinced (read: blackmailed) Blaise into painting his future goddaughter's nursery a soft pink, and made it a point to tell everyone at the Ministry to keep a good five feet away from Hermione's stomach at all times. Hermione rolled her eyes and told Draco she was pregnant, not made of glass, but she found the gesture touching all the same. The grandmas-to-be were getting excited, too. Jeanne visited Wizarding London more often to check up on her daughter, while Narcissa wrote frequently, expressing her elation over how she would soon have a granddaughter to take shopping and play dress-up with.

During her third trimester, Hermione buckled down on her reading, as did Draco. He insisted they both read Wizard & Witch Parenting 101, and—much to his wife's annoyance—he often jotted down little notes in the margins.

Draco finished brushing his teeth and was on his way to bed one night when he found Hermione fast asleep, the book tented over her face. He smiled and carefully levitated the text off of her, making sure to mark her place before setting it down on her bedside table.

He flicked out the candles and climbed into bed, but stopped before pulling the covers up over himself and his spouse. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on top of Hermione's protruding stomach. "Goodnight. Daddy loves you... Cassie."

He told her with love.

Cassiopeia Jean Malfoy was born on April 17 at 8:34 pm. She weighed 6 pounds, 5 ounces, and was 18.1 inches tiny. She had Draco's shining gray eyes, as well as his pale blonde hair color, but from the way the thin strands were already beginning to curl of their own accord, it was clear she had Hermione's hair volume. She also had Hermione's nose and smile—and ability to win people over.

Draco never thought he'd see the day Lucius Abraxas Malfoy cried.

Something in the air definitely shifted when Lucius first set his usually cold gaze on the miniature bundle of half-blood joy the Healer carried in, wrapped up in a pink blanket smaller than a hand towel. Hermione instantly told her slightly estranged father-in-law he was welcome to hold his granddaughter, and the moment she was placed in the older man's arms, it was clear the little heiress had shattered whatever remained of his prejudices.

All of Draco and Hermione's relatives and friends had taken turns holding and cooing over the newest edition to their lives for hours. Now all of their company had left, and Hermione was taking a much-needed nap. The Healer's assistant had offered to take Cassie back to the nursery with the other newborn witches and wizards, but Draco assured her he wanted some time alone with his daughter.

He was seated right outside his wife's room in a stiff chair that all the softening charms in the world couldn't have fixed, but the new father couldn't care less. He was much too consumed with falling in love for the second time in his life.

His little girl was still wrapped up in her pink blanket. Draco carefully rocked her back and forth in his strong arms in the hopes that doing so would keep her from crying. So far, it was working. Every so often, Cassie gave a little stretch or yawn, and every time she did, Draco swore he fell in love a little bit more.

"You're adorable, Cassie." Draco stroked the softer than soft hair that lay atop his daughter's small head. "Daddy loves you so, so much."

Cassie made a small sound which Draco decided to take as her saying she reciprocated his feelings.

He placed a kiss on her smooth forehead and watched as her eyes, identical to his, blinked up at him.

"Cassie... as you grow up... you're going to hear some things about me. About how I didn't used to be too great of a person." He didn't know why he was saying it. He knew she couldn't understand him, but he wanted to tell her all the same. "I'm sorry that some of those things are true. But I promise you, I love you and your mummy more than anything else in this world. I will never make you feel like you have to... to do something or be something to earn my love. I'll make sure you always know you're perfect just the way you are. And I will always, always, always do whatever I can to make sure you're happy, Princess."

Immediately, a small smile formed on Cassie's lips. She made a contented little sound and stared up at her father happily.

Draco's heart skipped a beat. Maybe she could understand him—she was Hermione's child, after all. And his. She was a mixture of them both.

We made this, he thought, heart swelling with pride. We made this precious little miracle.