"Snog, snog, snog, snog!"

He looked tentatively at Hermione and saw her tilt her head towards him. Their shoulders pressed together, causing butterflies to flutter in his abdomen. Ever since Emily dumped him a month ago, her accusations ran through his mind often—did he really like Granger? This would be an unconventional way to find out… He leaned in to close the gap and landed his lips on hers. Her lips were smooth and warm and he felt her sit forward. She tasted like his peppermint fudge and hot cocoa. His heart skipped a beat and he reached up to cradle her head. His skin flared where their bodies pressed together: their knees, his hand on her face, her hand skittering on his forearm, and of course, their lips. He felt her tease his bottom lip and he stifled a moan as they broke away.

Draco gulped hard and carded his fingers through his bright blonde hair. "Jeez, Granger, take me to dinner first." He quipped, trying to play it cool, but he was sure she had seen through his nerves.

The rest of the match was blurred— he wouldn't have been able to tell someone which team won, he was so distracted by Hermione.

Predictably, the kiss was plastered across the front pages of the next day's rags: CUPID STRIKES AGAIN: GOLDEN GIRL GRANGER AND REFORMED BAD BOY MALFOY CAUGHT ON KISS CAM - COULD IT BE LOVE?

…

A swollen, puffy face stared back at him in the darkness. It had messy black hair. Sweat beaded on Draco's forehead and his throat felt constricted. Draco looked down at his own hands. They started to swell like the face that was staring at him. Then his hands and the face in front of him started to shrink back down. It was Harry Potter. Potter's face swelled again and rippled in slow motion. "Is it him?!" a familiar voice growled, making Draco cringe. The face rippled again and morphed into Hermione's face. He reached out to touch her but the figure eluded him as if Hermone's face and his hands were magnets repelling each other. Her face started to blacken and disintegrate. Draco screamed, but nothing came out. The face morphed again and now he was looking at himself. The darkness started to fade away around him, splotch by splotch. The space was replaced by the scene at his trial. Ministry officials and the Wizengamot clothed in black robes and black caps stared down at both Dracos. Harry Potter reappeared in the courtroom—his mouth was moving but Draco couldn't hear what he was saying. Potter's voice then heightened to a muffled murmur. Then his voice grew quickly, exponentially, until it was blaring in Draco's ears: BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.

Draco fumbled with his alarm clock and sat up slowly from the bed. He ran a hand through his rumpled hair and his sweaty brow wrinkled. He hadn't had many nightmares since a month or two after moving back to London. And his nightmare was different this time—it was usually his mother's face he saw, but this time, it was Hermione's.

He leaned back against the black leather headboard and as he shifted, the dark grey silk sheets pooled around his bare waist. Was it a coincidence that his nightmares were coming back after a week without interacting with her? Hermione seemed to be avoiding him. Unfortunately for him, Draco's chest tightened every time he had seen her this week and he caught himself daydreaming about Hermione often.

The evening before, he went to The Boot to meet up with the hospital crew for drinks, but she didn't greet him or acknowledge him. Hermione had tossed her drink back and left shortly after his arrival. Every time she found an excuse to leave when he stepped into a room, his heart sank a bit lower. As he stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom, he realized he hadn't gone more than a couple days without speaking to Hermione in a long while—she was possibly his best friend since moving back to England.

"Could it be love?" He mused, knocking his head back against the headboard with a thud.

Draco turned this concept over in his head as he absentmindedly rolled his family signet ring across his fingers. The thought of his once-enemy being his best friend danced in tandem with the silver metal—the more he pondered, it was not only clear to him that she was his best friend, but also his heart's desire. Despite his usual superiority complex, there was no pondering needed to know he wasn't good enough for her—being friends with the Golden Girl was a stretch, let alone lovers. He had been rotten towards her as a boy, a cowardly enemy in the war, an insufferable git in healer school, and now, a colleague that had bungled their friendship.

He ran his other hand through his hair and gripped a handful of his blonde locks—he felt like tearing out the handful: Draco was miserable without interaction with Hermione, but he couldn't risk losing her friendship with any hopes of being anything more. He decided he would approach her today, Friday, a week since the kiss.

…

"Granger!" He jogged after the brunette down the hospital hallway, his pale green robes billowing behind him. Draco saw her pace quicken as she ducked into her office.

"Malfoy, this isn't a good time. I'm...catching a bus home," Hermione let out a tired breath and his stomach panged.

"Finally running out of excuses to avoid me that you're resorting to muggle transportation?" He chanced a smirk at her that was more of a hopeful smile.

"For your information, Malfoy, muggle transportation is functional and an impressive innovation given muggles' circumstances." Draco's chest fluttered at her retort. Even if she turned her swotty nose up at him, she was talking to him!

"I know the merits of muggle transportation, but it—"

"Look, Granger," Draco waved, cutting himself off. "I didn't chase you down to argue. Well, actually, I did—I miss arguing with you. I'm not sure what happened last Friday, maybe I was a shite kisser, though that'd be a first, or it was the horrid newspapers, but I hope we can get past this because I can't lose you—I know I'm not your best friend, but you're my best friend." He could feel the heat rise to his cheeks as his eyes flickered down to her shaggy office rug. Draco internally slapped a palm to his forehead: What happened to his prepared remarks? Where did that word vomit come from?

"Oh." She gave him a look he couldn't read. The silence that followed made Draco want to melt right through the floor and disappear.

"I like being friends." Hermione said softly with a tone of finality. Relief washed over him. Though he would have a daily reminder of the witch he couldn't have, it was far better than no witch in his life at all.

"Besides," Draco saw the corner of her luscious lips turn upward, "I wouldn't get to tease you about this if we weren't on speaking terms!" She mocked, "I've never seen you bumble like such a billywig!"

"Piss off, Granger!" His face was red with embarrassment and laughter.

…

The following month went by normally—as normal as possible for Draco, who was pushing his feelings for Hermione down to the depths of the Chamber of Secrets. He noticed a bit of awkwardness between them at times, and he sometimes worried he wasn't being "normal" enough and she'd find out how he really felt and maybe freak out.

Draco strolled behind Hermione, following the waiter to their usual booth at La Palapa. It had been another late night at the lab and they had missed the usual dinner window. The waiter set the laminated menus down on the slightly sticky table top with two plastic tumblers of water.

"Fuller's Pale Ale and a margarita, please." Draco nodded to the waiter as they slid into the booth and the waiter dashed away.

Hermione set the menus at the end of the table—she always ordered a pork tamale and the shrimp tacos and he got the steak fajitas.

"So what were you up to yesterday evening?" Draco clasped his hands on the table. He had seen her take off a bit early from the office and the little birdies around the hospital speculated it was for a date. Draco inwardly hoped it hadn't been.

"Oh, I had a date," she shrugged.

"How was it?" With his initial hope shot, Draco now hoped the date had at least gone poorly.

"His name's Will, he's a muggle, and we caught a movie and then got pizza. It was pretty meh. He picked this horror film with vampires, but it was just silly since vampires actually exist in our world and they're exceptional magical creatures with fine manners. We just didn't really connect I guess." His heart skipped, happy that Hermione's date didn't have potential for a second outing.

"Those people," he saw her mouth open slightly, likely with a counter about prejudice, "they're always boring. That's why their names are Will—it takes a strong will to put up with them."

"Oh that was a lame jab, Malfoy," her laugh bubbled in the booth. Their food arrived and they dug in. "What about you? Any dates lately?"

"Nope," Draco focused on arranging the onions, peppers, and steak into the tortilla in his palm in an effort to veil any indications of his feelings for her. "Been busy trying to get my potion to trials, as you know." His application for his contraceptive potions to go to trial was denied the first time around even though it had meticulously detailed research, abundant funding, and overwhelming sponsorship—Hermione had been convinced it was because the Potions and Healing Products Regulatory Agency was either prejudiced against his family name or because of political concerns around the population recovery and growth since the war.

"Yes, I know; I think you'll get approval soon though. It's the second time you've submitted the paperwork and case papers," her brows scrunched in frustration then waved. "We've wasted enough breath on the stupid, prejudiced, political crummy PHPRA though—want to share the flan or go to Florean's after this?" She asked while he watched her unwrap her tamale.

"What for?" He inquired, shifting in his seat from the now-familiar sensation that bubbled in his chest whenever the brunette witch proposed spending more time together, or genuinely smiled at him, or laughed at his jokes, or...really just did anything.

"I wasn't aware we needed a reason to have dessert, but I guess to celebrate the progress of your research?" Draco chuckled at her mock affronted tone. He knew she had developed a bit of a sweet tooth after being restricted on sweets growing up with muggle teeth healers as parents.

They finished their meal in usual conversation, flitting from discussing work happenings, exchanging notes on recent medical publications, to debating the merits of something or other, and reviewing current books they were reading.

…

"Miss Astrid Spencer." Draco drawled out to the waiting room scattered with patients. A young woman with long black hair, blue eyes, and an emerging baby bump hidden behind baggy robes stood up to join him.

"Healer Malfoy, so good to see you." They strode to an examination room and in practiced synchrony, Draco warded the room and disillusioned the little window on the door while the lady cast muffliato on the area.

"I still think that name is pretentious, and that's even coming from me." He chuckled at the redhead who had just let down her glamours and was settling herself on the green vinyl exam table. His top secret celebrity patient had chosen the maiden name of the late muggle Princess Diana and a first name that meant "beautiful goddess."

"It's tasteful and a good cover! Can you imagine being named Ginerva? I get that I'm pale, but really, Ginerva?" The woman threw her hands up.

Draco laughed from his belly. He and Ginny Potter had actually become fast friends over the last five months during her check ups. The woman had a very disarming nature and surprisingly, they got along well—they talked about Quidditch, French desserts, and the muggle television show Law & Order: UK, and shared a secret and rare appreciation for peanut butter and pickle sandwiches (though Ginny may have just appreciated them due to her pregnancy-altered taste buds).

He flicked his wand and vital charms appeared, providing a reading of her temperature, heart rate, blood pressure, and the like. Draco's self-writing quill noted Ginny's vitals in her patient files. "Looking steady today Ginny, and a normal amount of weight gain. How are you feeling?"

"Feeling ok—getting some nosebleeds here and there and my feet are like fat lumps."

Draco made some notes by hand, "That will be normal. For the nosebleeds, I'll get you some nasal drops you can use once a day, but let me know if they become more frequent. I'll order a low grade anti-inflammatory potion for your feet—pop a few drops into a cold foot bath whenever it's getting troublesome."

He set the parchment and quill on the counter and stepped up to the examination table. Draco's hands hovered over her abdomen and a sonogram-like projection appeared between them. He glanced at his friend and smiled: Ginny had a look of loving wonderment only a mother could for their child. Draco muttered a few more indicator spells so as to not interrupt his friend's enchantment, while the self-writing quill jotted down the baby's weight, measurements, and more.

"Would you like to know the baby's sex?"

"Yes, but let's wait until Harry gets here—I forgot to tell you he's popping by today!" Ginny's eyes sparkled with excitement.

Though slightly taken aback since Ginny usually came to her check ups alone, he nodded. It made sense since they knew they'd likely know the sex of the baby this month. However, that didn't mean Draco wasn't seeing a lot more of Potter too: with the baby on the way, Harry had enlisted him to prepare for fatherhood and get Grimmauld Place ready for a little one. Draco had been curious why Potter approached him instead of the Weasel or any of Ginny's other brothers. Apparently, Ron wasn't good with 'that kind of thing' and having not had a father growing up, Harry didn't want to sow any unnecessary doubts with Ginny's family that he wasn't fit to be a father (though the Weasleys' likely wouldn't have held it against Potter—he was The Chosen One for Merlin's sakes.)

"Oh, before Harry gets here, we need to talk about a certain brunette, mister." Ginny chided, half-jokingly. Draco knit his brows, unsure of what she was talking about. She rolled her eyes, "Hermione."

"What about her?" Draco shifted uncomfortably and tugged at the collar of his white oxford, trying to get more oxygen.

"Merlin's balls, Malfoy, I see the way you look at her," His eyes went wide and he could feel a blush creep up his neck—curse his fair skin, maybe he should've been named Ginerva.

"And I know the way she looks at you."

Draco's chest sputtered, "What?"

"Don't bother playing dumb, Draco," the redhead waved her hands dismissively. "Just ask her out already. She'll realize she loves you too soon enough."

He sputtered but before he could deny his feelings or ask Ginny more about what she knew of Hermione's stance, a knock sounded at the door.

"It's Mr. Spencer." The voice was muffled on the other side of the door. Draco waved his hand to check that it was Potter and then dropped the wards temporarily for the man to slip inside.

Harry stepped inside the room with forgettable light brown hair cut close to his head, rectangular glasses, and acne scars on his cheeks. He dropped his glamours and instantly looked more familiar with a jet black mop of hair, round glasses, blue eyes, and a smooth face.

"Malfoy, good to see you mate." Draco shook hands with Harry vigorously.

"Likewise, Potter." Draco attempted a grin but was still recovering from the recent news that his love for Hermione was so obvious to Ginny.

He mentally shook the topic and turned his attention to his friends. "Ginny's healthy and the baby is too. We were just waiting for you to tell you both the sex of your baby."

Harry had joined Ginny by the examination table and squeezed her hand. Draco observed them for a short moment: they shared an excited look as new parents and clearly shared a strong love. He hoped he could have that kind of love someday.

"Go on then, Draco." Ginny urged with a giddy smile.

"You're having a baby boy! I'll give you two a moment together."

"No need, Malfoy," Potter didn't miss a beat, grabbing Draco's elbow before he turned towards the door. Draco saw him share a look and small nod with his wife.

"Malfoy—Draco, we've been really grateful for your expertise through this and the lengths you've gone to for us, beyond just being our healer. We both hold your friendship dear." Draco shifted his weight from foot to foot and carded a hand through his hair—the sincerity of Harry's words and the depth of Draco's own appreciation towards Harry spread an unfamiliar warmth through him.

Ginny now spoke up, her usual spirited tone softened with earnestness. "Draco, will you be our son's godfather?"

He was floored. He stumbled backwards—did the Potters just ask him to be the godfather of their firstborn? Then he stumbled forward into their outstretched arms, "Yes, of course!"

...

That evening, Draco lay in his bed, replaying the afternoon's events in his head. 'What is Potter thinking? I'm shite for this,' would have been more on brand of these types of situations for him, but he only felt warmth. Though somewhere in the depths of his brain, that narration did exist, the happy feeling that pieces of his life were finally falling into place overpowered. It felt so right. It felt foreign, but it felt right. His friendship with the Potters turned out to be natural, unconstrained, and genuine, unlike any friendship he had growing up—though his friendships with Blaise and Greg had grown to be good, they had been born out of forced circumstances and his friendships with others were often laced with ulterior motives.

Draco rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He thought back to one of his previous visits to Grimmauld Place. Him and Harry had finished painting the nursery and were sitting in the middle of the empty room eating pepperoni pizza from the muggle parlour around the corner.

"Are you scared, Potter?" He had asked earnestly.

"100%. I don't know how to be a father. I don't remember anything about my parents, only what I see from photos or hear from other people. I didn't know Sirius until third year, and my uncle was horrid." Harry replied in a subdued tone, wiping pizza grease from his face.

"I'd be scared too…" Draco's lips twisted down into a frown off to the side of his face. "My father wasn't a great example and I'm afraid I'll become him when I have a child."

"Malfoy, you're far from your father."

He smiled sadly to Potter, "Thanks, Harry. We'll figure it out, hey? I can at least help with the medical side of things, and when it comes to the more intangible parts of parenthood, I'll be here for you and Ginny however I can." With a laugh, Draco added, "And then I can copy your notes when I have my first little one!"

"Thanks, mate. Cheers," his friend raised his bottle of beer with a grin and a deep laugh.

Draco fell asleep with a small smile. His dreams were filled with kids running around—one older boy with dark hair giving a piggy-back ride to a small girl with caramel coloured hair, while chased by two boys around the same age: one with bright red hair and the other with curly blonde locks.

A/N: Apologies for the delay on this chapter. It's been busy with the holidays and I've also sort of hit a wall with how I want to end this story. Message me if you have any ideas! Hope you all like it; the favorites and follows have been super encouraging!