Chapter 9

It had been a tedious and frustrating few weeks. She knew that the level of irritation she was feeling- which had her close to pulling her hair out- was disproportionate to the situation. She was aware that she was being irrational, but that only had the- ironic- effect of making her more irritated.

It had started with issues at work. The department head had gently suggested that she begin preparing for her maternity leave by delegating some of her tasks and presenting him with a plan for delegating the rest. What he hadn't explicitly said, but clearly meant, was that he expected her to work less as she got closer to her due date. A concession she hadn't asked for, didn't feel like she needed, and resented; especially coming from a man.

Many of her colleagues had begun walking on pins and needles around her as soon as her pregnancy started to show. But she thought her boss, with whom she'd been working closely for several years now, had more respect for her than that and trusted her to know her own limitations rather than have them dictated to her. She had certainly not expected to be treated like she was some fragile little thing.

However, she didn't want to ruin her working relationship with him by complaining. Because he hadn't technically done anything wrong. But also because the only person who ranked higher than the Head of the DMLE was the Minister, and she refrained from going to Kingsley at all costs as their personal relationship was well known and she didn't want to get a reputation for exploiting it.

On top of feeling like her professionalism and her abilities were in question through no fault of her own, the full weight of what it would really mean to be away from work for months had started to set in. She trusted her staff, but she was not used to leaving them completely unsupervised. Beyond that, there were several projects close to her heart that she was going to have to leave to see implemented by others.

She wanted to spend the first months of Portia's life with her and she wanted to relish the time. However, maternity leave was starting to feel like an encumbrance instead of a privilege and it hadn't even begun, and for that she felt terribly guilty.

Then she'd practically held her breath all through Halloween a day which, while nothing compared to Harry's experiences, had historically not been good for her. And then that night, the Sahmain event, which had been just as uncomfortable as she'd feared it would be.

Things had not improved at all between the elder Malfoys and her husband (and by extension her), and she worried that both parties were just stubborn enough for this disagreement to lead to a permanent divide, even a complete severance of the relationship. Which was another thing for her to feel guilty about; they'd survived a war with their family intact, and in less than a year she had caused this rift.

She was also worried about Harry and the baby who he had essentially been fostering, because magical Britain had no such official system. The baby who had become an orphan on Halloween just like her best friend, and who they were quickly running out of options for placing in a permanent home. She knew it would be just like Harry to decide to take on that responsibility whether he wanted to or not.

Scorpius had been fussier than usual, and Hermione would have sworn that it was because he knew that big changes were looming just over the horizon. And Draco was up to something, or maybe she was just paranoid.

Draco who was currently strutting around their bedroom preparing for bed like he didn't have a care in the world. She watched him until she realized that not only was she unabashedly staring, but her mouth was actually hanging open.

Normally she wouldn't have cared, he was her husband and hers to ogle. Except they hadn't had sex in weeks. She could actually barely stand for him to touch her, and it frustrated her that she wanted him so badly, but at the same time even thinking about actually doing anything about it made her feel the need to add another pillow to the wall she had erected between their two sides of the bed.

And now it really pissed her off that she might have just given away her inner struggle to him. Especially because while she knew, intellectually, that she hadn't gained that much weight, and that what was happening to her was perfectly natural, she felt like she was living in somebody else's body. She couldn't imagine that she looked any more attractive than she felt, though she knew he would never tell her that.

She might be a little less irritated if he was a little more of an arse. At least then she could feel justified. But he was conscientious towards her and about the pregnancy without treating her as if she was fragile or incapable the way that pretty much every other person in her life did. He doted on her and the baby, and just generally acted like he was thrilled about the entire situation. And he hadn't complained once about the lack of intimacy, which left her feeling incredibly insecure.

He even pretended like he hadn't noticed her staring.

Nevermind, he was an arsehole. Would it kill him to do something wrong so that she could get properly angry with him?

He stripped down to his boxer briefs and had just stepped into the bathroom when her mouth ran away with her.

"Are we ever going to have sex again?" It came out part question, part accusation.

There was a long pause before he literally backed out of the bathroom. He looked at her, at least she thought he was looking at her, her gaze was fixed somewhere over his left shoulder so she couldn't be sure.

"Would you like to hit me?" He asked.

She reared back in surprise. "Excuse me? I ask you if you want to have sex and you ask me if I want to hit you?" She scoffed.

"Well, that's not exactly what you asked, now is it? You asked if we were ever going to have sex again, which feels more like a test which I have no hope of passing, and I assume is your way of picking a fight so that you can vent your frustrations. So, I was just offering to let you hit me because that's always seemed to help in the past, and would probably be easier on us both than a whole big fight," he explained, calm as could be.

Hermione's mouth dropped open as a tsunami of indignation rose up inside of her, she narrowed her eyes and then...she laughed. She laughed until she cried, until she wasn't sure whether she was laughing or crying, happy or sad, or maybe even angry. It wasn't until she felt her hand hit the bare skin of his chest that she realized she had reached for him.

"Better?" He murmured, gently cupping the crown of her head.

She looked up to see that he was grinning, his eyes dancing with mirth, which made her want to laugh again. "I hate you," she snapped, but it unfortunately lacked venom

"Mmm."

"But I really don't," she huffed. "Though I kind of wish I did. I don't know how to explain it. Do you know how frustrating that is?!"

"For someone as generally clear headed and articulate as you are, I'd imagine it's maddening."

She took a deep breath.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, still so calm.

"Put a shirt on first."

"Are you sure about that?" He smirked.

"Would you like me to take mine off?" She retorted.

"Yes," he said, eyes going dark.

That brought her up short. "Really?' It came out almost as a squeak.

"I'm never going to say no to that, and you seem to be avoiding it lately. So yes, absolutely, I would love for you to take your shirt off, but don't feel like you have to. I just wanted to make sure that you knew I felt that way, because however unattractive you seem to think you are right now, I assure you, I don't agree."

"Oh." It was like he'd let all the air out of her balloon.

"Oh," he repeated. "So, shirt?"

"You can keep it off," she grumbled, like looking at his bare chest was a trial, "but mine stays on."

"That's fine," he plucked his hand off her chest and brought it to his lips, then he let go, placing his own hand on the bed and using it to vault over her, somehow managing to barely jostle her in the process.

Despite herself, she chuckled at his antics. He settled on his side, propping himself up on one arm. She turned over to face him, squirming closer until she could feel the weight of his body pressed against her even through the fabric and down stuffing of the wall of pillows.

"So what's going on in that brain of yours, sweetness?"

:"Nothing," she sighed. "At least nothing new, nothing you don't already know about."

He studied her for a moment. "You mean like my parents?"

"Yes."

"You don't need to worry about Lucius and Narcissa."

"You just called them 'Lucius and Narcissa,' I think that's an indication that I do need to worry about them."

He waved her off. "That's just something I do when they're being particularly irritating."

"I've never heard you use their first names before. Are you telling me that in the entire course of our relationship you've never found them irritating?"

"Relatively speaking they've been pretty well behaved since they became aware of our relationship."

Hermione considered that. "True. But still, it doesn't seem like a good sign."

"We'll get past this, and if we don't it will be their fault, because they were too stubborn and weren't willing to admit they were wrong."

"How can you be so calm?" She let out an aggravated breath and kicked her feet. "What if you lose them? And it would be my fault, how would that affect us?"

"I don't think I will, but if I did, it would be their fault, and partially mine, but not yours."

"How can you say that?" She hated it but she couldn't help the whine in her voice. "You've survived so much as a family, and now, less than a year into our marriage you're barely speaking."

"Because I'm finally standing up for what I want," he said firmly. "Giving into their demands got me a really hateful and lonely childhood, and then this," he brandished the arm bearing the faded Dark Mark, "and then into a marriage with a girl I didn't love and barely knew. If I have to lose them to be happy, to know that they aren't in a position to bully me or my wife or our children- who aren't in any position to speak for themselves yet, then that's a trade off I'm willing to make."

She bit her lip, he sounded so certain. She envied that certainty, but it also frightened her.

"If I give in now they'll just push harder next time," he continued when she didn't speak.

"Yeah," she sighed, "I know that, but I can't seem to help but feel guilty."

"You take on too much," he said gently, "let me handle this one."

She nodded. "I'll try, I promise."

He took her hand from the top of the pillows and brought it to his lips again. "What else, work?"

"Yeah."

"Your arsehole of a boss?"

She shook her head at his language but smiled. "He's not usually an arsehole, I think that's what's bothering me so much about this, is I didn't expect it from him."

He nodded. "I've been thinking about this since you told me about it and I had a thought."

"What's that?"

"Do you think it's possible that his request is not because he thinks you're incapable, or that you're going to become incapable, but that he understands how much you do, and he realizes how prepared they need to be in order to cope without you, so he's getting a head start?"

Hermione opened her mouth and shut it again. That sounded so completely reasonable. Was it possible she'd overlooked this explanation?

"I don't know him well, but you've never really had any complaints about him before, that's the only reason I mention it."

"Yeah, I don't know, maybe?" She blew out a long breath. "I guess it's possible that I'm feeling overly sensitive."

"You should ask Potter what he thinks, or I can, if you think he'll try and lie to you to spare your feelings."

"As if Harry could successfully lie to me," she smirked and he laughed. "But thanks, that's a good idea. It would make me feel a lot better if you're right." She bit her lip. "I'm worried about Harry too."

That seemed to take him by surprise. "What about him?"

"About him and Meriella."

He frowned. "I'm pretty sure you're not doubting Potter's ability to take care of a baby, so I must be missing something."

"I'm worried he's going to keep her."

"And that would be a problem for you?" He asked incredulously.

"I should be more specific. I'm worried that he'll feel like he has to keep her because she doesn't have anybody else, even if he's really not ready to take on another child right now. I think he'll decide that, both having lost their parents the way they did, that fate is sending him some kind of sign or something. No matter how unkind fate has been to him in the past. And I don't like that I don't have a better option to offer him."

He tilted his head, clearly contemplating this. "Well that does sound like Pottter. You don't think he really wants to keep her, though?"

"I don't know that he's even capable of fully evaluating that. He's so used to doing what's best for everybody else, to saving people."

"Ah."

"If he wants her, I would be his first advocate, but I don't know how to determine that."

"We could take her," he said, without missing a beat.

Hermione's eyes snapped to his. "Excuse me?"

She waited for him to crack a smile or correct himself, but he just held her gaze steadily.

"You want to adopt a baby?" She practically choked out the question.

"I'm saying we could. We're a second option if you need one to present to Potter."

"What, like a bluff? To see how he reacts?"

"No, as an actual second option. Unless you aren't interested, but I've seen you with that baby, and I think you are."

"Draco," she gasped, the only thing she could manage through her shock.

He just kept watching her.

"What- I don't know what to say."

"Am I wrong?" It sounded like a dare.

"I would take her, if she needed a home. But what about you?"

"I would take her, if she needed a home," he parroted, but with utter seriousness.

"You would?"

He winced, so slightly that she almost missed it, but she didn't. "What is it that you think I'd object to, her bloodstatus or just the adoption in general?" He tried to hide the hurt in his voice too, but she heard it.

"The adoption," she admitted quietly, "and not object, exactly, just not volunteer to do it when we obviously know that we can have our own children."

"That's fair," he nodded, though his eyes still contained the hint of hurt he'd managed to banish from his voice. "If I'd never met her I can't say that it wouldn't feel…foreign to me. But I have, and I can honestly say that it wouldn't bother me. In fact, I'd like to do it, if she needs a home. And if you want to, of course."

"Were you going to say anything?"

He shrugged. "I assumed Potter had dibs. I hadn't considered what you just told me, the way he thinks will probably always baffle me. But we're in a better position than he is. Potter deserves to get back on his feet however he needs to do it and a third child very well may not fit into that, it would hamper him considerably in finding a witch, he can't possibly expect to get as lucky as I did."

Hermione just gaped at him. "We shouldn't adopt a baby just to save Harry from feeling like he has to do it," she finally managed.

"Of course not. I was merely explaining my thought process and if it's helpful to Potter that would be another benefit." He pursed his lips, and started to stroke the fingers of the hand he was still holding. "You haven't said how you feel about it other than to indicate you would be willing to do it, if it were necessary."

"I- I don't know. I hadn't considered it," she licked her lips.

He nodded. "You don't have to tell me right now, I just wanted to tell you that, in my mind, it's an option so you can stop fretting over Potter."

"You're saying this like it's so easy, like it's no big deal."

"I've heard you say more than once that loving and adopting Scorpius was the easiest thing you've ever done. Do you not think me capable of the same?"

"I do- I just. I'm not sure I'm ready for another baby, Draco. That would be a lot."

He nodded, absolutely no judgement in his eyes. "That's understandable. Again, I just wanted to tell you that it was an option for me. If not us or Potter, we'll find somebody. We'll make sure that she's safe and happy. Please don't let this be a source of stress for you any longer."

"You can't promise that."

"I just did."

Her eyes welled with tears and she blinked rapidly, fighting a losing battle to keep them from falling. "You need to stop being so perfect, it's making me feel very flawed in comparison."

He laughed. "Don't be ridiculous."

She gave up and let her tears fall. "I don't know that I like this. I'm not sure I can handle it."

"What's that, love?"

"Everything. Everything just feels like more lately. Too much, maybe," she finished quietly.

He considered that, seeming to trace every inch of her face with his eyes as he did so. "Well," he began eventually, "everything is more, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're literally growing a human being. Even when you're completely at rest you're doing more work than you've ever done before."

She scoffed. "Women are pregnant all the time. My body was made for this."

He looked at her like she might actually be crazy. "That doesn't mean it isn't hard, Hermione."

"I should be more grateful," she let out a shuddering breath. "I have everything I've ever wanted and more, but all I seem to be able to do is complain. I'm serious Draco, if you could go back to being a prat, maybe strut around threatening everybody with your father's wrath, I'd feel a lot better about my own shortcomings."

"I'll see what I can do." He arched an eyebrow. "What would happen, for instance, if I demolished the Great Wall of Pillows?"

"I'd be very certain you don't want any more biological children before you try something crazy like that."

"So that earlier comment wasn't a hint that you were in the mood for sex tonight?" His voice was teasing, but also a little hopeful.

"Stay on your side of the pillows, Malfoy," she ordered.

He smiled widely, eyes crinkling at the corners, so stupidly, annoyingly beautiful; and brought her hand to his lips once again. "I love you."