Recap:

Hermione sighed heavily and looked on, longing to be completely and shamelessly honest with everyone she loved.

"Draco Malfoy," she whispered, her eyes falling instinctively on Jade and Scarlet, the giggles carried away in the summer breeze. "You are the best and the worst thing that's ever happened to me…"

Chapter 11: Don't Speak

Draco sat in silence in his living room, the only light coming from the streetlamps just outside his window. It was almost eleven o'clock at night, leaving a good eight hours before he could see his daughters again. For most of the evening after work he had been sitting in semi-darkness, his thoughts scattered and lonesome. When had his life become so empty? Of course he had Scarlet and Jade, but if they were not in his life then he would be absolutely alone. His parents only used him, his friends all abandoned him, his co-workers could care less what became of him, and Hermione—bright-eyed beautiful Hermione—only cared about him in relation to their children. He was nothing to her other than the sperm-provider for the miracles that came from her; not a love interest, not even a sexual interest. She regarded him in the same manner in which you would regard a stray cat.

The clock struck eleven and he looked up, barely able to make out the shape of the great grandfather clock on the other side of the room. Hermione would probably just be getting to bed right now, exhausted from a day at work and an evening of caring for the girls. Only a few times had Draco seen his children other than the earlier morning or when she brought them into the office. He understood her caution—hell, he was the one who laid the ground rules—but after all this time he still couldn't stop putting himself first.

He wanted something, and he would get it.

Only ten minutes after Hermione was nestled under the covers, the lights in her room were back on, and she sat on Draco's chest on the floor, her wand jabbed into his throat.

"What the hell!" she hissed, climbing off him, trying her best to keep her voice low so not to wake the babies. "I almost cursed you! What are you doing here? It's eleven o'clock at night, the girls are asleep."

"I didn't come here to see them," he sighed, rubbing his neck as he took a seat on the edge of her bed. "I came to see you."

"Shit! Your parents—"

"Just shut up for a minute!" he demanded, reaching out and pulling her to sit beside him. "It has nothing to do with anyone but me and you."

Hermione only stared at him, completely lost.

"Draco, why did you come to see me?"

But, instead of answering in words, he pulled her roughly to him, their lips fitting together like jigsaw puzzle pieces. Hermione's first instinct was to submit, her body and mind familiar with the man now on top of her. But then reality struck hard and she pushed him off, pressing her back against the headboard.

"Get out," she breathed, not looking at him. She couldn't let him see the desire in her eyes. But this had nothing to do with lust—they were completely wrong for each other!

"No," he said, and slid closer, placing a bold hand on her bare knee. She slapped his hand and drew in her legs, pulling her nightshirt to her ankles. But he persisted, finally coming to sit right next to her, their hips touching, and his hands on her face, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"Why are you doing this?" she half-whimpered just before their lips touched.

"Because," he answered, kissing her sweetly and sending a cold and satisfying chill through her, "I want you and you want me." He kissed her again, this time more powerfully, one hand moving to her lower back to hold her tight. "You can't deny it, Hermione. It's in everything you do. You can barely look at me without betraying yourself with the desire in your eyes."

"Just because I want you," she admitted, "doesn't mean I need you, or that we should do this. We're already in enough danger now. You can't spend any more time here."

"Let me have you," he whispered, kissing her neck, the intoxicating scent of his hair and body invading her senses. "Just once more."

"Draco," she pleaded, weakly pushing at him. "Please."

"Hermione," he said, looking directly into her eyes and finding the truth.

"Just tonight," she caved, and eased under the wonderful pressure of his body. He was the last man she had slept with, the only one she wanted to sleep with now.

"If that's what you want."

"It's what has to happen," she said sternly, grabbing his head. "Otherwise we'll get lost in it and lose sight of what's really important."

"And what's that, love?" he purred, his want clouding her fear.

But in the interest of retaining the moment, she silenced him with a powerful kiss, and they sank into the softness of the bed.

At seven, when Hermione had to get up for work, she opted to lie in bed until Scarlet or Jade voiced their wakefulness. Beside her Draco slept, his head resting on her shoulder and his body curled into hers. It still amazed her to watch him in his sleep, his face soft and his brows un-knit and peaceful. His platinum blonde hair was mussed and stuck out all over, but he was still gorgeous. After two minutes of staring at him, she couldn't take it anymore, and kissed his forehead, knowing that this would wake him.

"Morning beautiful," she laughed when he opened his eyes and glared up at her, a deep yawn escaping his lips. But before he could snap at her, she slid down and kissed him full on the mouth, her fingers going up into his silky locks.

"I was having a good dream," he said when they parted for a moment, "but I think I woke up to something wholly better."

"I missed this," Hermione sighed shamelessly. But when Draco went to kiss her again, she slipped away and out of the bed, pulling her robe over her naked body.

"If you missed it," he said huskily, throwing back the covers, "then come get it."

"Come on." She snatched his discarded pants off the floor and threw them to him. "Get dressed and help me with the girls."

She was out the door before he could protest. He found her a few moments later, and hobbled into the nursery, one leg through the wrong pant leg.

"What the hell Herm—"

"Don't start with me," she groaned, rolling her eyes, as if he were just another thing she had to "deal with". Draco had a sinking suspicion that that was exactly right. "I told you just once, and I meant it. After the babysitter gets here you're gone for a few days." She reached into the crib and lifted out the child that was closest to her, that being little brown-eyed Scarlet. "And I don't want to see you at night again. I won't let you put our children in danger just because you're too lazy to find someone else to sleep with."

"That is not the reason I came here last night!" he hissed, not daring to go near the crib in his anger.

"Look, Draco, I know how you feel."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. I want you and only you. I haven't dated because of it, but it'll pass. My mind thinks I need to be with the father of my children; it's instinct. Maybe I should just sleep with someone to get past it. Then I can date and find who I'm really supposed to be with."

"Hermione!"

"Draco," she mocked, then motioned towards Jade, who stood clinging to the side of the crib, waiting for someone to pick her up. Draco sighed and obliged, cradling his blue-eyed babe.

"Would you just hear my reasoning?"

"Draco!"

Their eyes widened and they looked down at the baby in Hermione's arms. Scarlet smiled back at them, her tiny hands clapping together.

"Draco!" she repeated, giggling and kicking her feet.

"Did she—" he stammered, coming to Hermione's side. "She said my name!"

"Scarlet, baby," Hermione said, completely forgetting her and Draco's little dispute. "Say it again."

"Say Draco," Draco urged.

But Scarlet only stared up at them, a wide toothless grin on her little mouth.

"She said my name," he sighed, smiling and kissing Hermione on the cheek. "She said—Hermione, this is unbelievable. I feel…I don't know. Do you know what I mean?"

Hermione smirked and hugged Scarlet to her.

"That's my girl." But then her face dropped in a look of horror and she took a step back, leaning against the cradle for support.

"What?" Draco demanded, feeling the nervousness she was emanating.

"She said Draco," she whispered, her eyes staring and seeing nothing. "Draco…She said—"

"Hermione!"

"Draco!" Scarlet giggled.

At this she broke down and her tears fell like an angry rain.

"She said your name," she said again. "She said it and she'll say it again. She…" But she trailed off, her shoulders going lax. "She's going to rat us out, Draco. Everyone will know. They—"

"Hemmie!"

In Draco's arms, it was little Jade whose voice they had just heard. And though Hermione was devastated and terrified, she couldn't help but smile and cover her baby with kisses. It wasn't exactly her name, but she knew what she was trying to say. And when she said it again her heart melted and slowly, her arms securely around Scarlet, she sank to the floor.

Draco kneeled down beside her, kissing her forehead.

"Hermione," he said, catching her eyes.

"What?" she whispered, her voice small and strained. "What?"

"I will not let a single hair be harmed on any of your heads. No one will touch you. No one will even look crossly at you." He sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her in a half-hug. Hermione was too stunned to realize his caring and compassion. "I will protect you."

"I hope you can," was all she could say. "I hope you can."

Draco apparated into his kitchen, going directly to the refrigerator for a calming glass of orange juice. When the second his fingers touched the handle, he sensed someone present in the room. Immediately he reached for his wand, and turned on his heal, pointing it at the chest of his laughing mother.

"I'd lower that if I were you," she said, her laughter dropping like an anvil. "Where have you been?"

"Around," he muttered, placing his wand none too gently on the countertop. "What are you doing? Spying on me?" His voice was calm and monotone, but inside fear coursed through him like quicksilver. He hadn't even considered the fact that his parents would be suspicious of his actions. Hell! He didn't think they gave him a second thought unless there was something in it for them.

"I came here at seven o'clock in the morning three months ago," she said, straightening her back and sounding as if she were reading from cue cards. But he knew his mother all too well. She was working something out in her head. And she was angry. "You weren't here," she informed him, as if he didn't already know where the story was going. "I came again a few days later to find you absent again. And so on." She crossed her arms over her robe-clad chest, her eyes shrinking and hardening—they looked like two tiny pieces of coal. "Where do you keep going before work, son?"

"I don't live with you anymore," he snapped, though his almost frantic hand gestures betrayed the image he was trying to project. "I don't have to answer to you. I don't have to tell you a damn thing!"

"Temper, temper," she cackled. "But," she sighed, dropping her arms to her sides, "have it your way. Your father and I know you're up to something. We're your parents, dear." Her mock concern did nothing for either of them; he wondered why she bothered. "We only want what's best."

"For you," he sneered, and yanked open the fridge for that orange juice he'd wanted. "Get out of my house. I need to get ready for work."

"Of course." She turned her back on him, and was nearly out the door, when she paused and looked at him over her shoulder, a small devious smile playing on her haunting features. "You really should change out of those day-old clothes."

And then she was gone.

In the end Draco decided not to mention his little encounter with his mother to Hermione. It would only make her more paranoid, and what she should be focusing on was her work and children. He would worry about his parents when he felt the need to. As of now they only suspected he was doing something they would disapprove of.

"They have no idea," he thought, twirling his quill between two fingers, a stack of documents on the desk before him. He'd been at work for three hours and hadn't touched a single piece of parchment. By lunchtime, he was so deep in thought that he didn't notice people leaving for lunch from the windows of his modest-sized office.

But as much as he wanted to tell himself Hermione and the girls were safe, he knew that eventually someone would discover their secret and they would all be in danger. And no matter how good they were both at magic, he highly doubted they stood a chance against his parents. This didn't mean he was going to tell her about their suspicions, only that he would be more cautious and pay attention to the signs given off when he was around his family. If they knew something he was determined to find out what. And if they knew the truth, then he would soon find out. Because no matter how much the Malfoys loved to tease and prolong their victories, they would never be able to sit on such information without taking fatal action.

"I have to protect them," he murmured into the tip of the quill.

The only question was: How?

"I can't believe our little wonders are turning one tomorrow," Hermione beamed, glancing over at Draco on the other side of the crib. It was nearing midnight—their daughters' birthday—and neither parent showed signs of leaving the nursery any time soon.

Because it was a special occasion, Hermione permitted Draco to be there at night, and also agreed to let him stay there through the night and until her family and friends arrived the next day. But she of course laid some ground rules first. One: there was to be no sexually physical contact between her and Draco. Two: he had to sleep downstairs on the couch. Three: he had to leave the instant people started to arrive for the birthday party. And four: if he broke any of the aforementioned rules she was allowed to curse him.

"I can't believe it's been a whole year," she sighed. When Draco didn't respond, she reached over and jabbed his shoulder. "Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"What are you thinking about?" She didn't like the contemplative look on his face as he watched their daughters slumber peacefully.

"Them," he said monotone, not looking at her. She grabbed his face this time, forcing their eyes to meet.

"Swear," she said, her suspicion rising to dangerous levels.

"I swear," he answered truthfully—of course he was thinking about the babies. What he didn't tell her—what she needed to know—was that he was trying to figure a foolproof way to ensure their safety. He had yet to come up with even one idea. Everything he thought of raised all sorts of unanswerable questions. "We can't keep this a secret forever," he said after a long pause, regretting it immediately. When Hermione didn't fly off the handle and demand they go into hiding, he said, "We'd be kidding ourselves if we thought we could. The question is: Do we tell them? Or let them find out on their own?"

"Either way," she sighed, "we lose."

"No," he said through his teeth, gripping the side of the crib as if he would use it as a weapon. "We have the girls. No one can take that fact away from us."

"We have something else too," she said, lowering her eyes.

"What?" But the second he asked he knew exactly what she was talking about.

"Each other."

Do I sense a spark? Hmmmmm? Heehee! Not telling:P

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