Draco had experienced a strange yet stressful day; if you'd told him a week ago that he'd be sat on Hermione Grangers cream sofa as the woman helped him for the second time within twenty-four hours, he'd have told you that you were crazy. Since the war he hadn't had much contact with the brunette witch; occasionally he'd seen her at charity events, in Diagon Alley or at functions hosted by mutual friends and they'd always been friendly enough to one another, acting cordially but they weren't friends, they were acquaintances at best. But here he was inside her picturesque cottage as the woman dressed in the most ridiculous get up helped his sick son, she held him carefully, humming a sweet melody to his child.
Scorpius had been sick for a couple of days however he'd gotten sicker overnight. Draco had apparated to the apothecary hoping they'd have something to help his crying son. He hadn't expected Granger to come bouncing into the store like a human incarnation of the Goddess Druga with a child on her hip and two more at her heels. She'd seamlessly taken control of the situation, stepping forward to help him. She'd been kind and reassuring, helping him when he'd been a mess. She'd managed to calm Scorpius down getting him to fall into a peaceful sleep, something Draco had failed at throughout the night.
He'd taken Scorpius home and followed Granger's advice, giving him fever reducing potions and pepper up potions every four hours and had liberally used cooling charms to keep him at a comfortable temperature. He'd thought Scorpius was starting to get better, he'd slept most the day, but his fever had broken which he thought was a good sign. When he'd gone to check on him late in the night Scorpius had been making a horrible gurgling, wheezing sound as though he wasn't getting enough air. In a blind panic he'd grabbed up the child and spun on his heels appearing at the small cottage he'd been to once before a few months prior when collecting casefiles Harry had left at Grangers house. He'd hammered on the door with his closed fist hoping Granger was inside, to his relief she had been, and she'd taken his son straight into her arms, helping him for the second time in as many hours despite the late hour.
"Thank you," he told the woman sat next to him when Scorpius' breathing had returned to normal, his son's eyes drifting closed, as he rested his small head against Granger's chest. The woman paused her humming raising her eyes to look at him.
"You don't have to thank me, it's no bother at all," she told him quietly, gently stroking her fingers through his son's fine hair.
"I've never been so panicked before, coming here was the first place that popped into my head, I'm sorry to wake you up so late," he told her while running his hand tiredly through his hair.
"You aren't the first to wake me up for a medical emergency and I'm sure you won't be the last," she chuckled rising to her feet she laid Scorpius where she had been seated settling the boys head on a blue patchwork cushion.
"What was wrong with him," he asked.
"Still the flu, it had caused inflammation in his trachea and his lungs which was why he was wheezing. I'd like to keep an eye on him over the next couple of hours before you take him home," she told him as she tucked gently placed a light blue throw over his son. "Would you like a drink," she asked turning towards him, for the first time since his arrival in the cottage Draco took note of what the witch was wearing, and he found himself chuckling.
"What," she asked raising an eyebrow in question.
"Nothing, a cup of tea would be lovely," he smiled trying to supress his laughter. She looked ridiculous, cute and oh so Granger in her cartoon t-shirt, pink fluffy socks and equally pink shorts, her wild curls escaping the confines of her two plaits.
Draco smiled to himself as the witch exited the room to make the tea. While Granger was gone, he cast his eyes around the room taking everything in. Much of the living room was cream, but Granger had added a blue rug, curtains, cushions and throws to give the room more colour. In one corner stood a small bookcase which was straining under the weight of the books she had placed upon it. There was what he knew was a muggle television, a small coffee table and an arm chair the same shade of cream as the sofa that he sat on squeezed into the small room. The thing that drew his eyes the most was the mantle above Granger's fireplace. The mantle was lined with pictures; many depicted her friends; the Weasley's, Potter's the Longbottom's but others showed her family. One picture made him smile; rising to his feet so he could have a closer look. In the picture a tiny Granger stood dressed as witch; she wore a purple and black dress with a crooked witch's hat atop of her bushy hair; in one hand she held a toy broomstick and in the other she held a black cat that looked as though it wanted to be anywhere other than in the child's grip.
"I was five in that photo," Granger told him as she set a tray down on her coffee table.
"You were adorable," he told her placing the picture back where he had found it.
"Never would have imagined that six years later McGonagall would be telling me I really was a witch, ironic really," she chuckled.
"Didn't you know before she told you," he asked as he sat back down on the sofa.
"To an extent I suppose, I knew I was different in some way, but I didn't know it was witchcraft, many of the things I did with my accidental magic I was convinced were a coincidence;" she shrugged picking up one of the cups off the tray and brining it to her lips. Granger hadn't presumed that he drank tea the same as her and had left his as it had been brewed, he poured in a splash of milk and added three sugar cubes, before rising it to his lips for a sip.
"aren't you going to stir it," she asked curiously.
"I like it this way, the more you dink the sweeter it gets," he replied.
"Still have a sweet tooth then, I remember you getting packages of sweets sent to you weekly when we were at school," Granger commented.
"I've always liked the sweeter things in life, especially my mothers baking, don't think I'd have survived Hogwarts without her care packages, her Cinnamon Swirls got me through my OWL's," he confessed to the witch sat in the chair opposite him.
"Cinny Swirl," his sons sweet voice asked from his side, Draco turned to look at the boy who was no longer asleep and was instead sat up his curls tussled and staring at him expectingly for one of his favourite sweet treats.
"Afraid not Scorp, how are you feeling," he reached forward lifting the boy onto his knee.
"Me hungry," was the child's reply.
"I don't have any Cinnamon Swirls, but I can make some Banana and chocolate chip pancakes, my godchildren love them," Granger spoke, rising to her feet.
"You make pancake," Scorpius asked her smiling up at Granger happily.
"I can do, would you like to help me," she asked, to Draco's surprise his son nodded, climbing off his knee, and taking Grangers hand that she held out to him.
"What's your name," Scorpius asked as the woman led him out of the living room; Draco didn't hear Granger's reply instead he sat back on the couch tiredly, it wouldn't hurt to close his eyes for a few minutes while his son and Granger made pancakes together. Draco allowed his eyes to close and dreamt of a woman with bouncing curls; someone he'd found attractive in his youth but had never dared to approach. As an adolescent he'd dreamt of them dancing together her in the periwinkle dress she'd worn to the Yule Ball or else he had dreams where he was pulling her into secret alcoves so he could kiss her rose tinted lips as his fingers ran through her wild hair. The events of the previous day had reawakened his feelings for the witch, perhaps they had never really left. Deep down he'd always felt something for the witch; in his youth she'd been forbidden; a Mudblood but she was smart, pretty, sharp and silver tongued, everything a Mudblood was never meant to be. She had made him question his beliefs and was one of the reasons he'd changed for the better. For years, his eyes had found her across the room, he'd followed his illustrious career and kept tabs on the woman; never getting two close afraid that he'd admit to her everything he had ever felt for her. But now as he slept, he dreamt of the woman she had become a woman who cared for his son better than his own mother ever had; Draco dreamt of a future where Granger was his; in his dream they were in a park together watching Scorpius and two other blonde children chase each other laughing as they played. In the dream Granger leaned over and kissed him, he kissed her back slowly, one hand in her hair the other resting on the swell of her swollen stomach.
"Daddy," a sweet voice called, Draco looked at the three children none of whom had called for him.
"Daddy," the voice spoke again this time the owner of the voice tapped his cheek and Draco's dream darkened disappearing as his eye's fluttered open.
"Hello, sleeping beauty," Granger chuckled from the doorway of the living room. Scorpius was kneeling on top of his knees his face dusted with flour.
"Daddy the pancakes are ready," his son told him excitedly, jumping to the ground Scorpius grabbed his hand and tried to pull him from the sofa.
"I'm coming buddy," he told him as he stood up, his eyes on Granger who was smiling sweetly at them. Perhaps it was time to finally act on his desires for the woman, he thought to himself as he followed her down the small corridor to a brightly painted pink and yellow kitchen that was filed with colourful mismatched furniture.
"Look daddy, there's the pancakes," Scorpius told him pointing at a plate stacked high in the centre of a navy painted table.
"They look delicious bud," he smiled down at his son.
"Me and Miss Mione made them together," Scorp told him happily as he climbed up onto a pink wooden chair.
"It looks like you and Miss Mione did a wonderful job, I can't wait to try them," he replied taking his own seat at the table opposite Granger.