Chapter 7

Draco stepped out of the floo into the Manor and gave the house elf who greeted him a polite greeting in return and the courtesy of allowing him to lead him to his parents, despite the fact that, given their strict schedule, he knew very well where to find them without assistance. Hermione's voice, always in his head, reminded him that there was no reason to be rude to the elf.

As he traversed the corridors of the Manor he contemplated his childhood home. It had been completely restored following the war, there was no visual evidence of the horrors he'd witnessed there, and he still felt a kind of distant fondness for it. In fact, he was actually master of the wards as they'd never returned to his father following the ritual Hermione had performed in December.

But it no longer felt like home. It hadn't since he'd returned to it following his Fifth Year at Hogwarts and found it full of monsters. And at the thought of the events that followed; Hermione nearly perished in their drawing room, for one, he felt his anger build and his steps quickened.

His son and his wife deserved better than his parents' plan to play them like chess pieces in the game that was British pureblood society.

He felt slightly guilty about outpacing the house elf and charging into his parent's private sitting room unannounced. But only slightly. His parents looked annoyingly composed despite his rather dramatic entrance.

"Draco!" His mother called out, "to what do we owe this unexpected pleasure? Please, do have a seat."

He rolled his eyes but took her up on her offer so as to not appear petty. However, he waved off her offer of refreshment and cut to the heart of the matter. "Perhaps you would care to explain to me why you thought it advisable to kidnap my wife and son from her job and his nanny respectively, take them to a shop where you knew that she would be looked down upon due to her blood status and that he wouldn't be welcome because of his age?"

Narcissa sniffed, as if this was the most ridiculous question she'd ever been asked. "I simply thought Hermione deserved a wardrobe befitting her station and that she might enjoy seeing Scorpius as she doesn't generally get the opportunity to in the middle of the day due to her... career."

Draco bit his lip, hard, but he had to wonder if his mother had truly been harboring a hope that his wife would be anything other than what she proclaimed to be. That he might wish her to be. That he'd left any doubt in his parents' minds left him steeped in shame. Time to set them straight.

"Befitting her station?" He asked, eyeing them evenly, "and which station would that be? War heroine? Order of Merlin, First Class holder? Runes Mistress? Daughter? Wife? Mother? Youngest ever Assistant Director of the DMLE?"

His mother's lips tightened and his father huffed.

"Ah, I can see it's the last of these that bothers you. That's not a surprise, it's not like you've done much to hide it."

"But Draco," his mother jumped in, "You forgot the most important ones: Lady Black, and the future Lady Malfoy."

It was all he could do not to scoff. "No, you're wrong. Those are the least of them. I like to think that she's proud to be by my side. Proud that she chose me. But I'm pleased that she doesn't care about a couple of titles that I inherited by an accident of birth, I did nothing to earn them. And-" he let out a sardonic laugh, "let's be honest. It was a terrible series of events that led me to inherit the Black title, and it only happened because I was literally the only one left with a strong enough blood claim."

They both looked like he'd just struck them.

"Did the two of you manage to delude yourselves into believing that once Hermione married me, she'd be so bowled over by the honor of becoming a Malfoy that she'd alter her entire personality to fit into the pureblood mold?" He laughed sarcastically.

"We thought she might learn her place," his father intoned.

"Oh," Draco smirked, "she knows her exact place. Perhaps you were hoping for a new and improved Astoria, but I knew the woman Hermione was when I married her, and I wouldn't have her any other way."

"You've changed Draco," his father continued, "you used to have some respect."

"I show respect when it's earned, and I think what the two of you did today was despicable," he responded immediately.

His mother had the good grace to look slightly sheepish, his father just glared.

"And yes I've changed," he continued before Lucius could lash out. "But the two of you can't possibly be blind to the fact that I started changing years ago. Hermione has never asked me to change- well at least not about anything major, she has some definitive opinions about the arrangement of toiletries, for example."

He smiled to himself. "But I started questioning what I was taught about blood purity while I was still at Hogwarts. Malfoy Enterprises started donating to causes you would have called questionable in my youth as soon as I took the reins," he watched their faces carefully as he spoke, "or perhaps you didn't understand what I was doing and just assumed I'd done it for the optics following the war. Don't mistake me, I'm as much of an opportunist as you taught me to be, but I've never given to a cause I didn't also believe in. Hermione didn't make me love the muggle world, she merely introduced me to it. She, and her friends, and her parents who have been nothing but gracious. Don't you think it blew their world wide open when they found out she was a witch? But they adapted. What can't you do the same for me?"

"That's not fair, Draco," his mother protested, "we only want what's best for you."

"No, you want what you think is best for me. But have you ever seen me happier than I've been in the last year?"

Narcissa visibly demurred, but she didn't give up entirely. "We just don't want you to forget our traditions."

"I have no intention of forgetting our traditions, just discarding a few along the way, like those robes you tried to shove Hermione into for Samhain. And on that point she'll wear whatever she pleases."

"She'll stand out," his mother snapped.

He snorted. "Of course she will. She always does. You don't need to make that sound like a bad thing. In fact, don't pretend like you wouldn't be pleased as punch if the reason she stood out was simply that she's a Malfoy. But Hermione is a shining star all on her own, she doesn't need any help from our dubious family names." He could feel his father's narrowed eyes on him, the atmosphere in the room was growing tenser by the moment. "Now I can't stay much longer, I have a very wounded wife and a sick son at home, so I need to be off."

"Is Hermione truly that upset? And what's wrong with Scorpius?"

His mother sounded alarmed, but following her actions of the day he didn't know if he really believed that concern. Did she truly not understand the discomfort she'd put them through today? A slight niggling of doubt tore at his heart and he wondered if Narcissa Malfoy might really be lost in this new world, and overcompensating to make up for her ignorance. But that didn't matter at the moment, she'd ignored many of their express wishes and put his entire family in possible danger by dragging them out in the busiest thoroughfare in wizarding Britain unprepared.

"Yes, Hermione is very upset. She believed she was building a solid relationship with you both, that she could trust you, and you betrayed her, and therefore me."

"We just wanted to have a nice afternoon with them, Draco," his mother interrupted. He wanted to believe that it was that simple, but this had been too well planned and executed to be true.

He took a deep breath and concentrated on the images of his wife and son when he'd arrived home only a short hour before. He leveled a glance at his mother: "You took our son from his nanny, tricked Hermione out of her place of work using his presence as a lure, took her shopping in a place you must have known she would be uncomfortable, paraded her in front of the Greengrasses- for Merlin's sake!- and then spent three hours belittling and disrespecting her life choices. Oh, and speaking of Scorpius, since neither of you made proper preparations for such an outing, Hermione was left trying to care for him on the fly while Father just plied him with sweets- which is the reason that he's ill."

Lucius just sniffed disdainfully.

Draco stood and straightened his cuffs. One of the few good things this man had taught him was the advantage of a well timed exit. "So here's what's going to happen. You will show my wife some real respect. You will stay out of our personal decisions unless asked," he shot his mother a quelling look, "you're both smart, you can figure out what that means. I bid you both good night." But before he could depart he realized that he had something to add. He turned swiftly to address them again. "I love you both, but my wife and my son and daughter are my priority now, it's important that you remember that."

"Draco!" His mother called after him, "what happens now?"

"Contact me when you feel that you can offer Hermione a genuine apology. And Mother, don't ever take one of my children from a certified caregiver without permission again or I'll lock you both in this house and have Potter investigate you for kidnapping. Also, for the last time, we're not naming our daughter 'Lyra.' Accept it."

She let out a little sob behind him but he didn't turn around, he just kept walking. The worst thing was that he wasn't certain if she was still being genuine in her grief, if she was just tired from decades of playing her part, or if he had actually gotten through to her. But she was not his responsibility tonight. He practically ran through the floo and found Hermione seated in the kitchen hovering over a plate of that Hawaiian pizza she liked so much. Another glance around the kitchen revealed that she was alone.

"Where's Scorp?"

"Asleep," she explained between bites, "I'm not looking a gift hippogriff in the mouth. I didn't wait," she gestured to the pizza, and offered him a small smile, "I'm not sorry."

"Far be it for me to deny my witches."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Speaking of, don't you have something to share with me about what you want to call our little witch?"

"Don't I get a kiss first?" He teased as he felt his center settling; he was back where he belonged. He loved their life: his snark, her absolute inability to say something in one word when she thought it could be more properly expressed in five, their bantering, the way they could tell each other anything.

"Absolutely not, and hear you whine about tasting this pizza for the rest of the night? I've learned my lesson." She rolled her eyes. "Sit and eat," she pointed to the chair next to hers.

He huffed dramatically but was secretly pleased that she seemed to be cheering up. "No, I need to go change, I'll be right back."

He ran upstairs, checked on his son who was sleeping peacefully with no apparent after effects from Lucius' nonsense, and then made his way to the master bedroom and stripped. He longed for a shower but he consoled himself with the idea that he might be able to coax Hermione into one later, or better yet, a bath.

When he reentered the kitchen it was to see that Hermione had put her pizza aside and was demolishing a box of truffles- and the mystery of how she'd kept Effie busy in lieu of cooking supper was solved.

Pregnancy had unearthed Hermione's sweet tooth and they were constantly running out of her preferred sweets. He chuckled.

She didn't turn to face him, just held up one cocoa powder covered finger. "Stop laughing or I'm going to hide the boxes I asked Effie to buy for you."

He stopped laughing immediately and approached her, bending to bury his face in her neck, leaving a kiss there. "Gorgeous witch." He could practically feel her smile but she nudged him away.

"Go eat, you must be starving."

"Bossy witch," he taunted, but she didn't rise to the bait. He sat and opened the box of his own favorite margherita pizza and breathed in appreciatively. "Perfect witch," he added.

They ate in companionable silence like civilized human beings. Or, rather he did. Hermione was demolishing her candy like some kind of heathen, pulling the poor confectionary apart and allowing the ganache to cover her fingers before sloppily taking each half into her mouth and loudly licking her lips. It was a bad pantomime of seduction.

It took Draco a few moments to figure it out, he wasn't foolish enough to comment. She hadn't suddenly developed slovenly table manners or cringeworthy seduction techniques, she was trying to make him laugh.

It worked.

They glanced at each other and when their eyes met they both burst out laughing. She calmed down before he did and went over to the sink to clean up. He approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her. He was unsurprised to discover that the baby was kicking furiously.

"She finds your manners appalling Granger."

Hermione snickered. "I'm not sure what was funnier, your clear disgust or your determination not to say anything about it. Also, I like how I'm suddenly 'Granger' again."

"Hush now, both of you," he chided gently with a kiss to her cheek and a tap to her belly.

"Do you want to talk about what happened with your parents? Or would you rather tell me about this super secret baby name you've come up with?"

"If you can wait I'd rather fill you in on my parents tomorrow, tonight I'd rather talk about our family."

She leaned back against him. "Happily. But you're okay after speaking with them?"

"I promise," he kissed her temple.

"And," she took a deep breath, "I wanted you to know how grateful I am to have a husband who I can talk to, even when it involves your parents. I know it couldn't have been easy for you to confront them tonight."

"Easier than you'd probably think. And for the record, if I'd thought you were wrong or that you'd overreacted I would have told you, but it would have stayed between us. We're a united front, right?"

"Right."

They walked up to the master bedroom together and Draco remembered the thought he'd had earlier. "Fancy a bath?"

"Oh. Yes, that sounds lovely."

He hurried to undress so that he could run the bath, when she emerged from the bedroom he helped her into the tub and settled behind her.

"That feels nice," she sighed, running her hands up and down his thighs. "Now tell me."

"Well, now that the time's here I feel really intimidated, like I should have prepared a presentation for the great Hermione Granger."

He could practically feel her roll her eyes. "Just tell me, I'll be honest with you if I don't like it, you know I will."

Their search for a baby name had been so ridiculous Draco had begun to wonder if his poor little girl would have to be sorted at Hogwarts without one. Ironically, they had rarely disagreed vehemently, which was surprising, but even the ones they both liked felt only 'fine' and Draco suddenly felt himself wracked with nerves because he realized that he was really attached to this name and would be very disappointed if she hated it.

He cleared his throat. "Portia," he said without fanfare.

"Oh," she breathed with, what he very much hoped, was awe.

He gave her a few moments but then he couldn't help himself. "Oh?"

"Portia," she repeated, as it testing it out. "As in, the protagonist from Shakespeare's 'The Merchant of Venice?'"

"Yes."

She allowed her head to lull against his shoulder "Hmmmm, a strong woman, but not without her issues."

"That would be correct, but I'm not interested in setting this one up for perfection. She does that just by existing for me, but I know that the world is cruel."

Hermione squeezed his hands. "Any other reason or has my mother gotten that far under your skin with her love of the Bard?"

"It's also the name of one of the moons of Uranus," he finished making his case, which he admitted wasn't particularly detailed. In his place she probably would have been prepared to present him with a thoroughly researched argument.

She craned her neck to look at him and smiled impishly at him. "That's not exactly ancient astrological history there, Darling."

He just shrugged. The truth was, he'd looked long and hard to find something that could reasonably fit into the Black family naming tradition, but didn't feel staid, and that didn't belong to one of his more terrible ancestors. "It still fits the celestial theme, as far as I'm concerned, so that she won't feel left out. And don't forget about the Shakespeare aspect. A little of you, a little of me. What do you think?"

"Yes." Her answer was immediate.

"Yes?," he felt his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. "Just like that, yes?"

"It's lovely and I knew it was right as soon as you said it, I just wanted to quiz you a little." She turned her head again to grin at him.

"Well then. I guess we have an accord."

She lifted a hand out of the water and wiggled it expectantly. He brought his own hand up and she shook it vigorously. "Lovely doing business with you Mr. Malfoy, I'm glad we could come to such an agreement."

He shook with laughter, trying and failing completely not to jostle her and along with her their newly named daughter. But Portia's parents' antics actually seemed to have lulled her to sleep. "I'm a little surprised she wasn't wide awake and awaiting our decision."

"Oh well," she sighed, settling against his chest, "I'm not going to complain about her giving me a break, we'll tell her tomorrow."

And like so many things between them, when they finally came together it was simple: that was that.