Hello lovelies!! Happy Tuesday!
I honestly cannot believe I have reached this point in the story. After years of having this chapter as a collection of notes, I am finally sharing it with you. I am extremely grateful for everyone that reads this story, I can never state that enough.
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me
Thursday, July 1st, 1999
Potter Manor
"Draco!" Hermione laughed breathily as he peppered her cheeks with kisses. Hermione was straddling her fiancé's lap. The pair were in the library, refreshing and furthering their research on blood wards.
With all the new additions to Potter Manor, they decided it was time to replace and strengthen the ancestral wards surrounding their home. They were still discussing whether to lift the Fidelius charm or not.
They were waiting until after Cissa gave birth to perform the ceremony. She was in too delicate a state to cast strenuous blood magic, especially with the magical toll it demanded.
However, Riley's pregnancy meant that the pure magic from the child growing inside her would infuse and strengthen the wards. A happy by-product.
( Soon, it would be the prime time for her to participate in the ceremony where the stress placed on her unborn child wouldn't be too great or risky.)
Another aspect of magic that wasn't talked about in polite circumstances was any magic involving pregnant witches or infants. Once, they had been cruelly taken advantage of and used indiscriminately for the benefits of the purity of their magic.
A similar blood wards ceremony would be performed on the grounds of Malfoy Manor after it was finished being rebuilt.
After their cleansing ritual they had checked on the grounds every few days to ensure that no traces of impure magic remained. The grounds were a blank slate, left to be moulded and shaped as their clan pleased.
The ancient, weakened wards surrounding Malfoy Manor had been decimated in Narcissa and Lucius's absence. Without Narcissa feeding them her magic daily—a temporary solution—they fell apart.
Lucius had finalised the plans for the rebuild a couple weeks ago, and had sent them back and forth with a magical contractor's firm. The final drawing set with all its additions and allowances had been completed yesterday. They were set to start building on Monday.
(After the war, the demand for someone to repair and rebuild what had been destroyed exploded exponentially, and thus, the few contractors that Wizarding Britain had, banded together and formed a company.)
As they had been leaving the hearing a few days ago, they were glad to find out that the shadowy figures in the benches above them were harmless onlookers. They were interested to see how Lucius's re-trial unfolded as he was the only former Death Eater to be granted another hearing. The others were all in Azkaban, rotting away.
There was one Death Eater whose imprisonment and misery Hermione relished in most; Theodus Nott. Hermione hoped Theodus didn't have a peaceful moment for the rest of his life. That he never saw a glimmer of sunlight again. It was the least he deserved for ending Charlus's life.
Presently, Hermione hummed happily as Draco's fingers tenderly stroked up and down her sides. She was perfectly content to spend eternity in his arms. Hermione's eyes flew open as she realised that she didn't have eternity; it was time to add the next ingredient into her simmering potion waiting for her in their potions room.
"Bugger!" Hermione swore as she wrenched herself from Draco's arms. "Fuck, you distracted me!" Hermione accused as she scrambled off his lap. She dashed out the room and hurried to the other section of the Manor.
Hermione found the contraception potion on low heat as she'd left it. It had shifted from a bright blue to a bubblegum pink as it was meant to. Tiny bubbles floated to the surface.
Hermione let out a sigh of relief, everything was as it should be. She picked up the sprig of rosemary and used it to stir the potion clockwise four times. It was the right consistency.
Hermione tore her eyes away for a few seconds to search for the crushed beetroot, and the potion flashed a milky white colour. She had been just in time, but those precious seconds searching for the final ingredient changed everything.
When Hermione added the beetroot into the potion, it had returned to its previous hue.
"Caught it just in time," Hermione mumbled to herself.
Hermione had enough of the potion tucked away in one of the cupboards across the room to last her until September, but she liked to brew it months in advance as she preferred to be prepared.
Hermione stirred the potion twice counterclockwise with the rosemary sprig to incorporate the beetroot, and switched off the heat. The potion needed to be left to cool and fortify.
Hermione raised her hands to her high ponytail, parted it in two and tugged to tighten her pastel yellow scrunchie. She adjusted the waistband of her matching, high-waisted shorts. A flowy, long-sleeved, cotton white shirt was loosely tucked into her shorts, the neck was open and exposed her collarbones.
"Did you make it in time?" Draco asked from the doorway. Hermione turned to face him and nodded as she walked around their workbench and over to him.
Draco brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek. "I know we said we want to wait until after we get married to start trying, but—"
"But?" Hermione asked with raised brows. She folded her arms over her chest. "Draco, I want to get our apothecary up and running before we start a family."
"We can run an apothecary and start a family, it doesn't have to be one or the other," Draco pointed out.
Hermione snorted crudely. She ran her hands down the front of his loose white t-shirt. He'd cuffed the short sleeves, and it was tucked the front into his navy blue, knee-length shorts.
Unlike Sirius, who had added some bright things into his wardrobe, Draco opted to stay within his colour comfort zone whilst adopting some of the current Muggle styles.
"I'm not saying we can't, I just want to wait a little longer," Hermione said, tiptoeing and kissing the underside of his jaw. She patted his chest and made to scoot past him, when he caught her around the waist, pulling her flush against him and lifting her off the ground.
"Hopefully not too long, I want our kids to be around the same age as Remus and Sirius's," Draco admitted quietly.
Hermione cradled his face and blew out an exasperated breath, "can you picture it? We're going to force Minnie into early retirement. It won't only be our kids, think, it's going to be Harry, Ron, Neville—everyone will start procreating soon!"
"I think you're getting ahead of yourself a bit. The Weasley brood is unpredictable because they breed like rabbits, but I doubt Neville, Harry or Ron are having kids just yet," Draco said, his face breaking into a broad grin. Hermione exhaled heavily.
"You say that now—"
"Plus, it's different for them and us, and you know it is."
"You're right," Hermione allowed. " But, I still want to wait until we are married. Marriage first."
"You could be pregnant, when we get married," Draco teased.
"Draco Abraxas Potter!" Hermione exclaimed, eyes and mouth wide in bemused incredulity.
"It wouldn't be the first time a bride was rushed to the altar early to hide scandal," Draco whispered salaciously before he captured her lips. Hermione made a rude noise into his mouth, before nipping at his bottom lip.
"Marry me first, Draco Potter, and then we can have a litter of children if you so desire," Hermione stated firmly. Hermione tried to hide the golden threads of mirth furling in her chest at the contortion of confusion that ensued on Draco's face after her statement.
"A litter?"
"An entire Quidditch team if that's what you want."
"I'm not the one who has to give birth to a Quidditch team, darling. So, I hardly think I should be the one driving the conversation on how many kids we should have," Draco said.
Hermione tilted her head to the side and raised a brow knowingly. A whimsical yet smug expression crinkled her features.
Draco sighed through his nostrils. "Point taken. We'll wait until you're ready. I don't want to pressure you into having kids when you're not ready."
Hermione kissed the tip of his nose. "Thank you. Trust me, I can't wait to have mini versions of you running around, but not yet."
"On a tangential note, I know we've discussed it a bit in the past, but how many do you actually want?" Draco's brow puckered.
"Two or three," Hermione said after a moment of poignant thought.
"Three. The Potter three," Draco smirked, his arrogant smirk that he'd perfected from a young age. One constant that hadn't changed over their decade in the past was that bloody smirk.
Warmth kindled around Hermione's heart and with a snort, she nodded. "I like the sound of that, maybe it'll catch on this time."
Friday, July 2nd, 1999
Undisclosed Location Along Wales's Coastline, UK
Sett Cottage
The shrill, inhuman sound Narcissa Malfoy made as another contraction clawed at her lower body was not the reason why Lucius Malfoy had a disgruntled expression on his face.
They were days away from magically induced labour to evict the child from their cushy situation inside Narcissa. They simply didn't wish to leave, but that morning when Lucius was tucking into his Eggs Royale, Narcissa's water broke.
The eggs were perfectly poached as well, Lucius thought wistfully as Narcissa's manicured nails dug into the back of his hand.
The interruption of his scrumptious breakfast, his wife's grunts of agony, and her frighteningly strong grip aside, Lucius was actually upset because of his venture into St. Mungo's earlier.
Lucius made it four steps through the door—looking for a Healer to head back to Sett Cottage with him—when a tripping jinx had barrelled him. He barely caught himself against the receptionist's desk in time; his forehead had clipped the edge of the stone counter, and it'd resulted in a nasty gash.
The male receptionist reluctantly reprimanded the wizard sitting in the waiting room who'd cast the spell. He handed Lucius a jar of dittany and a cloth to stop the bleeding and told him to take a seat.
Thankfully, it was a slow day, and the waiting room was otherwise empty. Lucius didn't wish to be accosted again, but every moment he spent here was a risk for a repeat incident.
Lucius had been blinded by panic when he'd apparated outside St. Mungo's. He'd temporarily forgotten how Wizarding society now saw him. He'd also forgotten his magic. He'd been without it for over a year. He was relearning something that used to be as natural as breathing.
Lucius came to another realisation, no matter what they did, he could not retaliate. It would be seen as an act of aggression, and justify their self-righteous, self-imposed justice. Even if he reacted in self-defence, he would be the one found at fault.
Lucius cast a Patronus and explained the situation to Draco as he liberally applied the thick green paste to his head wound.
Draco arrived seven minutes later with cold fury burning in his eyes and a tall, impeccably dressed and groomed wizard on his heels; Alfred Pennyweather. A healer renowned around the country, but not just anyone could request house calls from him. A dark blue knapsack was on his left shoulder.
Lucius gaped as Draco tugged him to his feet, eyes narrowed as he examined Lucius's cut.
"The Potter family healer you mentioned in the past is Alfred Pennyweather?" Lucius hissed his question through his teeth so Alfred wouldn't overhear him.
"It won't leave a scar," Draco commented callously, ignoring Lucius's inquiry. Draco was clearly livid about the fact that Lucius was attacked. Lucius scrutinised his son and marvelled at how many of his emotions Draco openly wore on his face. He still wasn't used to it.
Draco was an empty husk when he left for Hogwarts the prior September. A small part of Lucius was envious that another family and years in the past had brought Draco back to life. He was also aware that he had no right to be upset about it. Not after what he'd put his son through.
"I can take a look at it later," Alfred said, not a sliver of feeling behind his words, every syllable precise and unhurried. He withdrew a gold timepiece from his tailored black, gold-trimmed robes. "Draco sent someone ahead of us before he picked me up, but is anyone else with your wife?"
"The house Elves," Lucius answered. Alfred nodded, lips pursed.
"Good. They'll have everything prepared and ready for when we arrive," Alfred stated matter-of-factly. Alfred held up one hand towards Draco.
Draco placed his hand over Alfred's and grabbed hold of Lucius's forearm. Draco's eyes darted over to the man who was openly staring at them with disgust in the corner. "He tripped you?"
"Yes," Lucius replied. " Why?" Lucius quirked a brow.
"No reason," Draco said. "We need to go, Cissa needs us."
With a sucking sensation in Lucius's navel and a temporary twist of reality, they were spat out in Sett Cottage's living room.
The house Elves were scurrying around the kitchen, busily boiling tubs of water and preparing several towels.
Alfred made note of that, and didn't hesitate to part from the other two men. He followed the sounds of agony. The other two did the same.
Narcissa and Lucius had moved into Riley's old room. At first, he thought the painted stars on the ceiling were ridiculous, but now he stared at them and collected his thoughts at night before sleep claimed him.
Narcissa was at the foot of the bed, legs braced on Riley's shoulders. Hermione was seated behind Narcissa, her legs on either side of the woman, she was holding Narcissa's hand and rocking them back and forth. Tonks said encouraging things as she wiped Narcissa's forehead with a damp, cold towel.
"Took you bloody long enough," Narcissa panted out, her entire body flushed.
Alfred dropped his knapsack to the right of the quartet of witches, and knelt beside Riley. "Miss Paddington," Alfred greeted.
"Missus Black now," Riley mumbled.
A rare smile graced Alfred's lips. "Congratulations. Would you mind switching with me?"
"No, of course not," Riley said. With some careful manoeuvring, Alfred took her place.
"May you please ask the house Elves to bring those tubs of water and towels," Alfred requested from Riley. She nodded eagerly, jumped to her feet and dashed past Draco and Lucius.
Neither wizard had gotten more than a few steps into the room. Lucius gave his son a cursory glance before refocusing on Narcissa. Draco hung back, uncertainty gripping him.
Lucius stared at his wife, with her glistening skin, damp hair sticking to her, and thought she'd never looked more beautiful. He regained control over his limbs and hurried to his wife's side. He perched on the edge of the bed and grasped her free hand.
"Did I miss it?" A voice called from the corridor. Andromeda appeared in the doorway and clapped her hands together. "Brilliant, I made it in time!"
"We have a few more hours ahead of us," Alfred warned, not looking up from in between Narcissa's legs. His eyes were glowing green as he magically enhanced them to see inside her and get a proper look at the baby.
"Thankfully it's a cephalic presentation and he isn't a breech baby," Alfred muttered to himself. Unlike a lot of Healers, Alfred liked to keep himself abreast of the Muggles medical practices and applied them with magic.
Green light emitted from the tips of Alfred's fingers as he peered closer at the baby, his hands on the exteriors of Narcissa's thighs. The woman heaved out a sigh of relief.
"It isn't a pain potion, but it should provide temporary relief. You'll still feel pressure in your lower back, but that is unavoidable," Alfred explained.
"Did you say he?" Narcissa asked, eyes glazed over, now registering his earlier words.
Alfred tilted his head upwards, met her gaze and blinked blankly. "I beg your pardon?"
"You said he isn't a breech baby," Narcissa repeated.
"A boy," Andromeda muttered in wonder. Lucius knew she'd hoped for a girl, although, she understood that it made it easier for the Malfoys.
Lucius was well-versed in Andromeda opinions on the Malfoy family's rules of inheritance. She found it outdated that only males could become the heir apparent and successor of the Malfoy title and everything that came with it. The obsession with carrying on names and titles was ridiculous to her since she'd lived in a world free from it for years.
Lucius vaguely agreed with her these days, but he knew it was something for the next generation to change and adjust. Perhaps, with the gift of a second heir, it was a promise for a brighter and different future. For a family legacy that Draco and his new son would be proud of.
"A boy. Hyperion," Narcissa smiled dreamily. Lucius brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it.
Truthfully, he admitted silently that he would have been happy with either, as long as the baby turned out healthy. His younger self wouldn't have felt the same.
"Okay, folks, get comfortable. We're going to be here a while," Alfred repeated his earlier warning. He glanced at Narcissa again, and gave her a reassuring smile. "You are doing brilliantly my dear, just focus on me and we'll get through this together."
Three hours and twenty-six minutes later, on July second, nineteen ninety-nine, at six fifty-two in the evening, the next Malfoy heir was born.
Alfred Pennyweather handed a wailing pink baby to his Mother, and the room erupted with cheers. Alfred continued to work as the others rejoiced.
Narcissa carefully tugged down the front of her dress until enough of her skin was exposed to provide warmth and skin-to-skin for her son.
Lucius pressed his forehead against Narcissa's temple and stared down at his newborn son. At Hyperion Alexander Malfoy.
"Thank you," Lucius murmured against Narcissa's skin as he pressed several kisses to her cheek.
"For?" Narcissa asked tiredly, sagging against him.
"For giving me another chance, for giving me a future," Lucius said tenderly. He didn't usually show this amount of affection in mixed company, but these people were his extended family now, whether he liked it or not.
"Oh, is that all?" Narcissa laughed breathily. She tore her eyes away from her son and tenderly added, "thank you for trying and being the man I always knew you could be."
Lucius held back tears as Narcissa beckoned Draco closer with her eyes and with gentle words.
Draco hesitantly approached. Tonks made room so he could sit on Narcissa's other side. Hyperion had quieted as he laid against his Mother's skin.
Draco's hand was so big compared to the little boy. He nudged Hyperion's right hand with his index finger and magic sparked at the contact.
The whisper of a familial bond that existed during Cissa's pregnancy had fully formed. A golden thread connected them and Draco's didn't bother to fight off the awe-filled smile that bloomed on his face.
"Hi Hyperion, I'm your big brother," Draco murmured. "And I'm going to keep you safe, I promise. I can also teach you French if you're interested in that."
"Of course he'll learn French," Lucius said under his breath, cooing at his son, using a knuckle to gently stroke the patch of pale, silvery, fluffy hair on his head forward.
Tears steadily streamed down Narcissa's face. "He's beautiful."
Behind the Malfoys, Hermione knelt and sat back on her haunches, her hands lazily resting on top of her thighs. She stared at Draco's side profile. Her heart clenched at the wonder abundantly splayed across his face. Not for the first time she considered what he would be like as a father. (Hermione was consumed with thoughts of having children with Draco since their conversation yesterday.)
The best. Draco would be the best father, Hermione concluded, as she always did when her mind wandered down this route.
As if sensing her gaze, Draco's head turned and his molten silver eyes met hers.
"Soon," Hermione mouthed and Draco's blinding grin made sparks leap and burst inside her chest.
Hermione loves Draco. She loves him with every piece of her. Hermione was immensely grateful that she had the rest of her life to love him, and even then, she wasn't sure it would ever be enough time.