A/N: This is a collection of non-chronological one-shots following the lives of Draco and my Muggle OC, Marilyn, after my story Little By Little. They're mostly little snapshots of their lives that just didn't fit neatly into the main story. This won't make much sense if you haven't read Little By Little. Following my usual habit of naming all of my fics within one fandom after songs by the same band — this is named after the Oasis song of the same name. I didn't mean to take this long to get this oneshot collection going, I just needed a breather from Marilyn and Draco for a bit so I could return to them all refreshed! I have missed them, though.

This particular one is set around six years after the end of the main story? I'm not writing in chronological order here (but if something's really long I might split it into parts), so I'll say when each one is set in the notes so you have some kind of clue of what's going on and where it falls in the timeline!

Marilyn stared at the white stick in her hands. It had appeared so innocuous before, and now? Now it suddenly felt heavy. So. This was a thing now. A real thing. A real, breathing thing soon. She felt…well, she felt very much like she didn't have a bloody clue how to feel. It wasn't like it was an accident. They'd discussed the prospect when it was time for her IUD to be taken out, and they'd agreed not to replace it and simply to…well, to see what would happen. This outcome shouldn't have been a surprise, considering that. And she wasn't surprised - it just wasn't like they were trying. They'd avoided that word with an almost impressive level of commitment, because trying was scary. Seeing what would happen wasn't - and remaining unscared and unintimidated was the very thing that everybody harped on about being so important when it came to this.

Whether Draco avoided the word for that same reason was a tricky one to work out - mostly because his entire opinion on their chosen terminology had more or less amounted to "Malfoys don't try - they just do". It turned out he'd been right. He'd be a right smug bastard about being proven right when she told him.

Standing up from the sofa, she faltered for a few moments and then slowly sat back down. Then she stared at the pregnancy test again. The two lines remained. She blinked at it. It didn't blink back, but that was pretty fortunate considering then she really wouldn't know what to do with herself.

When she finally made herself move, it was to pad to the kitchen to make a hot chocolate. She heated the milk on the stove, just because it gave her more to do. Plus, she was sure she'd read something about microwaves being bad for pregnant women. She'd need to get a book. A few books. Maybe find some classes. Were Wizarding pregnancies different? Would the symptoms be strange and unusual? God, seeing what would happen had seemed so simple at the time. She needed Draco to get home already so she could ply him with questions. Or there was always Hermione - she'd be a better source of knowledge for this topic. But she couldn't tell her before she told Draco, and that brought her back to square one.

In the end, she found herself curled up back on the sofa, staring at the television without truly watching it, hot chocolate in one hand while the other pressed idly over her flat stomach as though expecting to feel a kick from legs that hadn't even formed yet. Her resolve not to check the time did nothing to make it pass any faster, her mind itching to call Sarah, or Taylor, or Adriano - but most of all Draco, to plead with him to return home this instant so she could just tell him. She needed to voice it to make it real. To stop this strange feeling of it appearing like any other night on the surface when it was very much not any other night. Not at all.

When the front door clicked open, she almost sprang up and ran to the entranceway to greet him like an over-excited puppy, but she beat back that urge and instead leaned forward to pick up the test from the coffee table. Listening quietly, she waited as he toed off his shoes in the hallway and then padded into the living room before he leaned over the back of the sofa to press a kiss to her cheek. He was in a good mood, then.

"Hello," he greeted "One of those days, was it?"

"Hm?"

"You only watch this tripe when you're feeling under the weather," he nodded to the television.

"You take that back immediately, Pride and Prejudice is a masterpiece and I can enjoy it in any state."

"That doesn't explain the thermometre."

"Ha. Uh. Yeah. It's not a thermometre. Can you, erm, sit down for me?"

A flick of the remote had the television muted. Marilyn tapped the (covered) end of the test against the back of her hand anxiously as he rounded the sofa and lowered himself down onto it. The test was almost painfully straightforward - the screen reading "pregnant" with a little smiling face rather than just one or two lines. There could be no mistaking what it meant. A glance towards him found her on the receiving end of a slight frown, and her eyes flickered down towards the test, and then back to him. And then she giggled.

She had no idea why, nor any idea of where it came from, but once she started she couldn't quite stop - especially not when he stared at her like she'd lost her mind.

"What?" He asked "What is it?"

Plastering her free hand over her mouth, she held the test out towards him with the other. Sighing heavily as though expecting some kind of trick, he gave her a look that was somehow long-suffering and fond all in one, before he accepted it and peered down at the stick. And then his expression fell slack at an alarming rate and Marilyn finally managed to stop giggling.

"I…You're sure?" He asked finally "This stick can tell you that? How?"

"I peed on it."

She quickly started giggling again when he dropped it like it had burned him, but this time the laughing was completely voluntary "On the covered part, you prat."

Making a face, he picked it back up again - only this time pinching it between two fingers.

"You pissed on it? Really? You're not joking? Like a dog?"

"What a charming comparison to make concerning the mother of your child."

"This is one kind of Muggle technology I don't think I'll be adapting," he said sourly, but the sourness in his voice didn't reach his face as he finally dragged his gaze back towards her again and kept it there "Pregnant? Truly?"

"Is it any wonder?" She countered.

Draco smirked, entirely unabashed by her teasing "Not all couples are aesthetically blessed as us. We need to make the most of it for the poor ugly sods out there. It's our duty."

"A blessing and a curse, really," she retorted drily.

"Mostly a blessing," he smirked.

"For you, maybe - I am pretty phenomenal."

"Mm, you are," he agreed.

"How many times - you're not meant to agree, Draco, then I just look like a dick."

"You're that too," he smiled "Not many could pull off such nuance."

Discarding the test to the coffee table, holding a hand out to her and pulling her to him with a new level of care.

"You're pretty phenomenal too," she murmured, kissing him and then smiling against his lips as she felt his hand move to her abdomen.

"A baby," he murmured "It's a strange idea, isn't it? Us as parents?"

"It's a fucking terrifying idea," she admitted, her hand settling softly atop his "When I think of what the Wizarding press will do when they get hold of the news, or…or what they'll do…"

She knew there was no need to elaborate, despite the vague nature of her 'they'. He'd know who she was talking about. His old lot - his old buddies, his old brothers-in-wands…his parents. There'd never been another incident quite like the one at Phantom all those years ago. A few smaller scale near-misses, things that had been more psychopaths presented with an opportunity by sheer dumb luck than anything particularly calculated and planned - errant hexes sent across rooms that were quickly dodged or deflected, either by Draco or one of their security team. That wasn't even to mention the shrieks of "blood traitor!", which had been so commonplace that they now barely noticed them at all.

They'd petered off as time went on - as the novelty of their marriage wore off, and as Draco's parents ceased to have a hand in the conspiracies against them. But now? Now they were bound to be renewed…and directed at the life slowly forming within her.

"They want us to worry," Draco said "They want us to plan our lives around how they might react. What are we to do? Never have children for fear that they might disapprove? We've never acted according to their will before, now would be a terrible time to start."

It was a conversation they'd already had before they'd even done away with the contraception, but she needed a refresher of it all the same - now that it was real.

"If we fear, they win," she echoed the words he'd said at the time.

"And they cannot win," he agreed "They will not."

"They haven't yet," she said softly.

"They never will."

"And we're not going to let the thought of them spoil this."

"They never could," he replied.

How she hoped he was right. But he said it with such confidence that she couldn't help but believe him.

BREAK

The serious conversations began to trickle in soon thereafter. The admin, the organisation, the tricky bits…of which there were many. Oftentimes it felt like the more they discussed matters, the more matters there were left to discuss.

"Should we stay here?" Draco asked "It's a very Muggle area. Highly populated. When the child's magic starts showing, that could spell trouble."

"Pun intended?"

"I want a divorce."

"In time you'll come to accept the fact that I'm funnier than you without jealousy."

"Marilyn."

Sighing heavily, she smoothed a hand over her still-flat abdomen, a habit that was forming rather prematurely.

"I know we always said we'd hunt for something more permanent when we got to this stage, but I'd rather go through the pregnancy here. It's home. It's familiar."

"And then move afterwards?"

"Mmm."

"With a newborn?"

"Well I don't think it would be a good idea to leave them behind."

"I suppose we could find a place beforehand, have it done up and brought up to scratch while we're still here and then move in once the baby is here," she wasn't sure she'd ever get used to the strangely giddy feeling she had whenever she heard him say the word baby "We can always pay somebody to take care of the tedious parts."

"Like the birth?"

"That's on you, I'm afraid."

"Are you going to tell your parents?"

This question, he asked when the barest hints of a bump really had begun to form - the signal that they were running out of time, and they must soon either tell people, or leave them to find out of their own accord. It was a wonder nobody at the company had let slip that her break from performing was actually maternity leave, but she supposed they feared being on her shit-list after their prior supposed failings.

"Ha!" Marilyn snorted "Tell another one, go on."

"I'm serious."

"I can see it now - Janet, I'm pregnant. Who's this? Your daughter. Who? Marilyn. Who? Marilyn Malfoy, formerly known as Marilyn Baxter. You know. Blonde, blue eyes, great figure, gorgeous, bane of your thirties. Oh. Who's the father? Draco. Who's Draco? My husband. Huh. When did you get married?"

"All right, all right," he groaned "Point taken, it was a daft question."

"Yeah, it sort of was, love."

"…When should I tell my parents?"

"Oh, how dearly I hoped this wasn't the direction this conversation was going in."

"It'll end badly if my mother has to find out after the media does."

"It'll end badly either way."

"I don't agree. But if you think so, that's all the more reason to get it over and done with."

"It could spell trouble."

"Pun intended?"

"Absolutely not the time, Draco."

"You've been impressively civil these last few years. You've exchanged Christmas cards. What exactly is it, realistically, that you think could happen?"

"He asks as if threats of death and danger are so outlandish, given everything we've been through."

"From my mother, they are. Especially now. If anybody was to even think about harming you now that you carry her grandchild, now that you're the mother of her grandchild and bound by blood, she'd do far worse to them than anything I could dream up - and that's impressive, really, considering."

"And your father?"

"He's not the Christmas card type, I wouldn't take it personally."

"Draco…" she sighed exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Her particular blessing during this part of her pregnancy was morning sickness that struck at night, and this discussion wasn't helping. The both of them had already been forced to forgo the use of any product - toiletries, cleaning supplies, even seasonings - that had any kind of smell to it. They'd been eating plain pasta and rice for a week straight so far; Marilyn because she had little choice in the matter, and Draco because he didn't have a whole lot of desire to spend the night holding her hair back while she vomited. The joke was on him, because so far it was looking like he'd be doing that either way. But, bless him, he was a trooper about it. The only jibes he made were the ones that could not be construed in any way other than joking…although that might've been because last time his snark had any bite to it, she'd burst into tears. Much to his horror.

"It's a chance for a fresh start, Marilyn. I know my mother, she'll be overjoyed by this. My father? He'll be forced to be satisfied if she is. I'm not asking you to consult her over names or nursery colours, but only the bare minimum. She sent the ring - all you're doing is returning the gesture."

Sighing heavily, she shook her head. She didn't like the idea. She hated the concept of being regarded with anything resembling positivity from his mother solely because of her reproductive capabilities, like she was a bloody broodmare. She hated the idea of his parents expecting to have any say in the raising of her child at all. Most of all, she hated the idea of the fallout that would ensue if his parents learned of this through the front page of the Prophet.

"Please, Marilyn. If they…if they misbehave, I'll deal with it myself, and I'll never ask this of you again. But I wouldn't ask if I believed they would."

"Fine," she sighed - mostly because a please from her husband was a rare thing indeed "Fine. I'll send her a copy of the first scan."

Draco smiled - a wide, brilliant smile reserved for behind closed doors which never failed to light up his face. Then he snorted and added "I'll include a note, explaining what the scan is."

They sent it off the next day - and after two solid weeks of silence, the gifts started flooding in. Much to Marilyn's surprise (and relief), none of them were cursed.

The pregnancy was no longer a secret - as far as their loved ones were concerned, as well as the media and…well, anybody who so much as glanced at her for longer than a couple of seconds, when Marilyn asked a question of her own. It was an insufferable summer night - humid to the point where sleep was an impossibility no matter how many cooling spells Draco cast and re-cast upon the room. Resigned to their fate, they lay sprawled atop the covers with not a stitch on, when she caught Draco considering her bump with a touch more serious thought than usual.

"Scared they're going to be a half-blood?"

"That's a given."

"A squid, then?"

He chuckled softly, correcting her "Squibs. But squids would disturb me, I won't lie. And no, I'm scared of neither eventuality. You're formidable enough without magic. We have Dimitrii for the rest of it, for the protection, when I'm not around."

"He's been a gem, he has," she agreed quietly.

"But they won't be a squib."

"Oh?"

"They'll have Malfoy blood."

"Oh, Jesus."

He smirked in response to that, but offered no retort so she continued "What are you worrying about, then? A girl? Does your lot have a Henry VIII complex about girls?"

"A girl wouldn't bother me, either," he rolled his eyes "A Gryffindor, though? That's where I'd draw the line. Or, Merlin forbid, a Hufflepuff. We have eleven years to make sure that doesn't happen, though, and I'm sure it wouldn't be possible, not with our genes."

"A dancing, spell-casting witch or wizard with all of our combined looks and intelligence," Draco mused "The world must brace itself, truly. First Hogwarts, and then mankind."

"Hogwarts," Marilyn echoed with a sigh, tracing her fingertips over her bump "I'm not sure I like the idea of them going off to boarding school for such big chunks of the year."

"You're beginning to sound like my mother," he snorted, and then sighed "Although I'm not sure I like it either. I suppose they'll be bigger at the time, though. Able to walk, speak, that sort of thing. There's nothing for it, really. Magical powers means magical schooling. I'm well-versed in much, but not enough to teach them at home. But we can write, bring them back for the holidays, that sort of thi- Marilyn? Marilyn, are you crying?"

"No," she lied weakly, wiping at her eyes.

"Well how could I not believe such a convincing display?"

"It's these stupid fucking hormones," she sniffed, shaking her head furiously.

"We've over a decade before the time comes," he pointed out with a laugh - albeit one that was not unkind "By which time you might even be looking forward to it. If they're anything like me, you likely will."

The most she could muster was a weak, sniffly laugh in response to that - and it was mostly because of his efforts to cheer her than because she found what he said particularly funny.

"When it does, we'll be looking back on this moment and wondering where all of the time went," she said.

"Then we'll keep having them, if you like," he teased "So the house will never be empty. We'll have them at such a rate that half of the population will be Malfoys, and the Weasleys will dub me a hypocrite for mocking them and their medieval procreative habits back in the day."

"Not unless you start dealing with this bit, we won't," she huffed a laugh "When I'm not crying, I'm vomiting, when I'm not vomiting, I'm sleeping, and when I'm not sleeping, I'm crying."

"The nausea will stop soon, at least."

"Right in time for the cravings to start."

"You're hopelessly impossible to cheer up, you know that?"

"I'm doing my best impression of you when you're in a mood," she sniffed.

They were getting towards the end when she did not voice the question on her mind. Her bump was now less a bump and more a globe - the flutters had morphed into turns and kicks, and the baby had morphed from a concept into, well, a baby. It was something that filled her with fear, yes, but the wonder and the excitement far outweighed that, especially once they found their new Wizarding home in the countryside and got it all set up and ready to go for when the time came.

They'd approached this like they approached anything - methodically, with a plan, and with determination. But it wasn't the sort of thing that could be totally planned for, and that in itself troubled her. Up until now, it had always been her and Draco. The two of them, in their own little team, against the world. Sure, they had her friends, and over the years they'd even somewhat added Hermione and Harry to the equation (although they hadn't quite reached the 'found family' status with which she held her Muggle friends), but they always left at the end of the day, and then it was just the two of them once again. Soon? Soon no longer. Part of her had worried that she'd resent the end of those days. That her bump would swell and bring regret with it. But that hadn't happened, and though no resentment grew, it didn't mean her fear left her.

Sighing softly, she fidgeted and debated getting up. It was early - stupidly early, but it wasn't like she had anywhere to be. The pregnancy was so late on that even any work on the side in choreography or teaching was done now, so she was left reenacting one of those depressing scenes from the historical dramas where the woman gets locked into a dim room to see out her pregnancy in bed. Although, admittedly, her version had far more visits to friends, and a husband who wasn't likely to lop her head off if the baby wasn't a boy. Was staring at the kitchen counter of the coffee table preferable to lying here and staring at the bedroom wall instead? At least downstairs she wouldn't wake Draco, she supposed.

"What's the matter?"

She started when Draco spoke into the nape of her neck.

"I thought you were asleep," she murmured.

"I know," he murmured, voice rough from sleep "What's wrong? Need more tea?"

A few moments of silence passed, and he murmured "Marilyn?"

"…I don't know how," she said finally.

"What, to work the kettle?" He groaned, rolling over onto his back behind her "If that's a hint that you want me to do it, you'll need to give me a moment to wake up. Although I swear, next time round we're getting a house-elf, even if it's only for the pregnancy. I know it's a rite of passage for the husband to run around, but I've paid my dues, I think. I'll play the middleman and be the one to relay your orders to the blasted creature, though, if that counts."

Marilyn said nothing, and it was probably her passing up the opportunity to engage in their usual pastime of lovingly bickering that had him pausing, then falling silent, and then laying a hand on her shoulder.

"…Darling?" He asked slowly.

"I don't know how to do any of it," she clarified.

"You'll learn. We both will."

"The nappy changes and the feedings and the swaddling and the bathing, sure. The technicalities. But you can't learn it all. You can't learn the really important bits. I can be a mother, but what if I can't be a mum?"

"You can be, Marilyn. You will be."

"When you have children, you'll understand what I'm being put through by you," she murmured "That's what they always used to say. When I got a bit older and that lost its bite, it changed to I hope you end up with a daughter just like you."

"Hardly a curse, that last one."

"It wasn't meant as a compliment."

"Which is exactly what makes them fucking idiots."

"But what if they end up being right?"

"They won't be."

"How do you know that?"

"The clue with that one is in the term 'fucking idiots'," Draco answered simply.

The baby kicked at that moment, as if to agree with him and she chuckled fondly, placing her hand over the spot where the foot had protruded.

"But they didn't have a kid knowing they'd be shit parents. Nobody does."

"It never occurs to people like that that they might be poor parents. They think it's not possible, so it dooms them to be so. We know how easily it might happen, and so therefore we can stop it from happening via that very awareness."

"You say it so surely," she gave a tired, humourless laugh.

"Because I've been thinking about it ever since you had that Muggle device removed and this became a possibility."

"You have?" She asked, turning over with great difficulty so that she faced him, keeping the covers wedged between her thighs in an attempt to ease the ache in her hips.

It wasn't something she'd considered before now - mostly because he never bloody well let on. Throughout this whole thing, he'd been so calm, so collected, so confident. She felt bad for not seeing through it now, but in truth it had bloody well scared her the whole time because it only served to highlight how not calm, not collected, and not confident she felt.

"Of course I have," he snorted, rolling back onto his own side to face her, although his eyes remained lowered as he spoke quietly "About myself - not you. My mother always doted on me, but do you think I ever had the chance to learn how to be a father? I have no wish to be one that rules by fear, and that's all I ever saw. He learned it from my grandfather, who learned it from a string of other good Pureblood men who came before him. What if that's all I know? What if I fall into that?"

"You won't."

"How do you know?" He countered knowingly - smugly, even, finally looking at her.

"Because they were fucking idiots, too," she said drily.

Draco snorted, responding tiredly "They certainly have their moments. But we've failed to follow anybody's example thus far, I can't imagine why we'd start now. We're experts at forging our own path. Unless you were secretly an expert on navigating relationships with infamous Wizarding quasi-war criminals before we met and this whole thing has been a malevolent ploy."

His fingers entwined with hers and he brought their hands up between them so he could press a kiss to her knuckles.

"I'm afraid not," she hummed.

"Shame, that would've been rather impressive," he replied "But my point stands. I'll have to know it for you, and you for me, and we'll just have to trust one another on this."

Marilyn nodded slowly, mostly because she didn't know what to say. She'd expected empty placations, ending in a silence where she pretended to feel better but didn't really. Instead, she'd been comforted. And she regretted not speaking up on it sooner. The baby kicked again, and she accepted it considering she wasn't able to kick herself in this condition.

And two weeks to the day later, when she reclined, exhausted, with her daughter in her arms and her husband dozing by her side, she thought back to those words - when you have children, you'll understand - and she agreed with Draco's conclusion that they were fucking idiots, because she'd never understood less.