"Good afternoon, love."

"I bloody hate you Draco Malfoy."

Well, thought Draco, smiling to himself, obviously her mood has improved from this morning. She's not swearing anymore.

"What, is there nothing on TV?" the blonde asked, closing the front door behind him and flinging his jacket onto the insanely burdened coat stand.

"Shut it!" Hermione called from the living room, sounding tired and angry. "You know that after two o'clock there's nothing on but Jeopardy and re-runs of Ellen. Jesus…"

"Don't you like Ellen?" Draco mused, sliding off his dress shoes.

"I liked Ellen," Hermione corrected him, still shouting from across the flat. "I'm pretty sure that I've seen every single bloody interview of hers by now. Two weeks. Two weeks doing nothing but watching telly…"

Draco chuckled, carding his fingers through his hair and examining himself in the hallway mirror. Working life in America agreed with him; he'd lost his unhealthily white complexion – although he was still a bit pale – and he'd officially thrown his container of hair gel into the rubbish. He was beginning to get small creases at the edge of his ever-blue eyes, but he blamed those on smiling too much.

"Did you pick up any Mars Bars?" Hermione called out, barely hiding the outright, desperate plea in her question.

"Was I supposed to pick some up?" Draco asked, feigning surprise as he fingered the chocolate bars in his suit jacket pocket.

A loud groan echoed through the walls of the apartment. "Jesus," she moaned, sounding absolutely bereft. "I've been looking forward to that all day."

"You only called me to ask for them an hour ago," Draco laughed, walking through the hallway and turning left into the kitchen. A small tuft of brown, frizzy hair was barely visible over the back of the sofa, and the television was projecting muted images of the (apparently hated) television talk show host.

"But that was forever ago!" Hermione protested, sounding particularly petulant and sarcastic. "Honestly, you had one job."

"And you don't have any job right now," Draco replied, continuing his approach to the couch.

"Oi, don't make me mad," she warned, lifting a hand ominously. "My hormones are going crazy right now, you don't want to set me off." Draco smiled. "Plus," she continued, obviously a little bit irritated by Draco's comment, "I'd say it's a pretty big job to carry around your offspring for nine months. I mean really, I feel like I'm carrying around an anvil on my hips."

Finally rounding the couch, Draco got a full view of his beautifully pregnant – and decidedly rumpled –wife. She was wearing one of his oversized t-shirts, the grey fabric straining over her rather expanded stomach, the waist of her maternity shorts visible against the cotton. Her face was tired, but her eyes were just as lively as ever, sparking with stubbornness and that wonderful passion available only to Hermione. Pulled back into a half-hearted ponytail, her hair had already managed to work its way back down to her shoulders, curling in delightful tendrils that rested lightly on her collarbones and cheeks. She was barefoot, her legs stretched out on the couch beside her, ankles wrapped in towels.

Hermione obviously noticed Draco looking at her feet. "What?" she protested. "My ankles hurt, and the towels are under a freezing charm. Can't a pregnant woman at least try to relax?"

A frown clouded Draco's face. "You aren't feeling tired, are you?" he asked, leaning down and pressing the back of his hand to her forehead. "You could've asked me to set the charm, you know, I don't want you -"

"Oh, shut it," Hermione said, waving her hand weakly. "It's just a freezing charm. I'm not going to overextend myself. Besides, last week I managed that animate charm, remember?"

Draco's eyebrows furrowed. Yes, he remembered the animate charm. Hermione had been hungry, but her back had been hurting too much for her to move. With him at work at the apothecary's, she'd taken the initiative to animate a blanket so that it could fetch her snacks from the fridge. When Draco came home, Hermione had been well fed, incredibly excited at her own success, and ridiculously exhausted; she'd fallen asleep within ten minutes of him arriving. It was true that her magical core was growing stronger as the baby matured – something about an 'increase in earth magic' that Hermione had read about – but it still wasn't smart for Hermione to exhaust her core on something so trivial.

Draco noticed Hermione wince and watched her hand twitch almost imperceptibly towards her back. "Let me," he whispered, pulling out his wand from his back pocket.

Hermione's pale fingers rested lightly on his wand, stopping him. "No magic, remember?" she said softly.

"It's just a pain relieving spell," Draco insisted, meeting her eyes, pleading. "This is something that I can do to help, it won't interfere with the baby."

"You can help me without magic," she insisted, placing her extended hand lightly on his cheek. Draco shivered pleasantly as her fingers lightly traced his skin, welcoming the wonderful tingle that he felt when they touched. After five years, it still felt as magical as when they first accidentally brushed one another's skin.

Draco didn't even need to ask what he should do to help her. Gingerly, he lifted her upper body off the couch and slid down into the small vacated space. Then, just as carefully, he lowered her back onto his lap, taking most of her weight off of her spine. Hermione sighed contentedly, a smile wrapping itself around her features. "Thank you," she breathed, her words causing strands of her hair to sway back and forth.

Tenderly, Draco brushed the errant curls back behind her ears. Even when her face was long-cleared of stray hairs, he continued to lightly stroke her skin. She seemed to glow in the light, her closed eyelids fluttering. "You look beautiful," Draco said, knowing that he was grinning like a fool.

Hermione snorted, unladylike but still perfect in Draco's mind. "Flattery will get you nowhere Mister Malfoy," she replied, placing her hand overtop of his, her eyes still closed.

"On the contrary," Draco said, carefully reaching into his pocket to retrieve the coveted chocolate bars. "Flattery gets you everything, Mrs Malfoy."

Tantalizingly, Draco waved the sealed Mars Bar inches away from Hermione's nose. Her eyes snapped open, and she nearly crowed with delight. "You didn't forget!" she exclaimed. "I knew it!" Sitting up – too quickly, Draco thought, panicking a little – Hermione placed a quick kiss on Draco's cheek, her lips lingering for a second longer than any chaste kiss.

"How could I ever forget?" Draco said, smiling, pressing a light kiss to Hermione's lips. She responded, deepening the kiss, wrapping her fingers in Draco's hair and pulling their heads even closer. Draco almost seemed to growl, running his tongue lightly over Hermione's closed lips….

…and she pulled away. Flushed and breathing heavily, Hermione placed her hand lightly over Draco's slightly swollen lips. "Hormones," she said, breathy and a bit dazed sounding. "Bloody hormones."

Draco grinned roguishly, kissing the hand that Hermione left over his lips. "Maybe I like these hormones," he whispered, leaning into her palm.

"Whoah, slow down there, Slytherin," Hermione said, lying back down onto Draco's lap – effectively out of his reach.

"What?" Draco said, a bit exasperated (but not really).

"You haven't even heard my news yet," she said coquettishly, tilting her head.

"….and?" Draco said flatly, not falling for the bait.

Hermione shook her head, smiling. "So, you already know that Catherine has agreed to be the doctor for the birth…"

"…yes…."

"…and that Abigail wants the girl to be a flower girl at her wedding to Marcus…."

"…yes. Is there any real news from today?"

"Patience, Draco. Harry called."

Draco didn't miss a beat. "Ah, yes. We're revisiting this godfather issue, aren't we?"

Sighing, Hermione rubbed her temples. "Yes. Despite the fact that both of us want him to be the godfather, he keeps insisting that he's not the right one for it. I mean, I don't know why, he'd be a brilliant godfather…."

"Don't stress yourself," Draco insisted, stilling her anxious hands. "I'm sure he'll come around."

"I hope so," Hermione sighed. Tentatively, she continued; "…and mum called with more name ideas."

Draco groaned. Mrs Granger was a very nice lady – really, she was! – but they just didn't have the heart to tell her that they'd picked names already. "Are any of them good enough to make the list?" he asked, trying not to sound too impatient.

Hermione shook her head. "Nope," she said, taking a big bite of her chocolate bar and reaching for a yellow notepad sitting on the table. "So far, the top names for the girl are Mary Grace, Taryn, and Sophia. I still like the middle name Narcissa…it's so pretty…"

Draco smiled slightly. "Have the boy names changed?"

"Nope. Still Aaron, Russell, and Hugh."

"Aaron Greer Malfoy still sounds the best," Draco insisted, knowing that the use of Hermione's alias as a middle name would forever be meaningful to the two of them.

"And I like Sophia Narcissa Malfoy," Hermione replied, "but you know that my opinion will change in the next thirty minutes."

Draco nodded and rolled his eyes, knowing all too well how quickly his wife's opinion would change. Suddenly, he heard a gasp, and watched as the half-eaten Mars Bar fell to the floor. Immediately, images of hospitals and blood and screams flooded his mind, the pictures all-too painful. We're only at eight months, he thought, slowing down his rapid thoughts. This can't be the birth.

"What's wrong?" he said, only a slight trace of alarm in his voice.

"Ugh, nothing much," Hermione moaned, arching against Draco's lap. "They're kicking in unison again."

"Both of them? Together"

"Mmm-hmm. They're even targeting the same bloody spot. I tell you, they're going to be worse that the Weasley twins when they finally arrive in this world."

Draco watched as Hermione's contorted grimace slowly eased into an expression of fatigue and resignation. "Here," she said, grabbing the hand that he was resting on the armrest of the couch. "Feel."

Placing his pale, slender hand overtop of her distended stomach, Hermione's smile cut a ray of sunshine through the tired air of the apartment. Not daring to move, to breathe, to think, Draco left his hand exactly where Hermione had placed it. Just about ready to pull away, almost at that point where he thought, No, not for me, not today, he felt a jolt. He'd felt his children kick before, but every single time became more magical than the last; Draco still couldn't believe that something so precious and beautiful could be in any way connected to him. It was as if he was living in a dream, a life that wasn't his own. "Who was that?" he asked playfully, his voice cracking.

Hermione smiled. "I think that's the girl," she said, obviously watching Draco's happy and terrified expression.

"How do you know?" he asked, feeling the rhythm under his fingertips.

Hermione shrugged. "That one puts more gusto into its kick, implying that it's stubborn and impatient. So, that definitely sounds like our girl."

Draco grinned, looking up at his gorgeous, unique wife. "You really do look beautiful," he insisted, lifting his hand from Hermione's moving stomach and placing it overtop of her heart.

Hermione smiled and placed her hand on top of his. "And you really do look handsome," she said, sounding suddenly tired. "Do…do you think that we're ready for this Draco? I mean, we signed on for one, and now we have two, and your job at the apothecary and mine at the hospital -"

"Hush," Draco said, placing his hand over her lips. "Whether we're ready for it or not, we'll face it together, okay?"

Nodding, sleepy, Hermione replied "Mmkay."

Draco leaned down and gave Hermione one last kiss on the lips, her delayed responses indicating that she was drifting ever so surely into sleep. "Good night, my love," Draco whispered, watching her features relax.

"Good night," Hermione mumbled, burrowing her face into Draco's chest. "…love you."

"I love you too," Draco whispered.

Hermione's slowed breathing indicated that she'd slipped into sleep, and Draco brushed a stray curl behind her ears, just watching her. A few moments later he, too, felt the strain of his day weighing on his mind, his eyelids drooping slowly and his head nodding. But I have to write out that order, and dinner has to be made, and –

Draco's thoughts were cut off as Hermione sighed, turning herself slightly so that her head was nestled against Draco's shoulder. A smile fluttered over her sleeping lips, and her hand meandered subconsciously to her swollen stomach. Draco felt a smile creeping up his own face as he watched his beautiful wife. Placing his hand beside hers, feeling the taut, warm skin beneath the t-shirt, he was trying to imagine the life blossoming just beneath his fingertips. Settling down with Hermione still on his lap, his hand on her stomach, Draco drifted leisurely into sleep.

As his breathing calmed, his heartbeat slowed into synchronization with the three other heartbeats in the room. If time were a living thing, this would have been a moment where it would have pulled out its camera and snapped a picture; her head on his shoulder, his head resting against the couch, both of their hands feeling the miniature heartbeats beneath them.

In that photograph, Time would have seen the family's imperfections and flaws – but Time would have also seen the beauty, strength, and love embodied by the two parents. It would have known that no matter what confronted them, this family would survive. At some points it may be rough, but they would endure the hardships they may face.

After all, a family based on a love as strong and as pure as that of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger was sure to be beautiful, unique, and thoroughly magical.

Finite Incantatem.