Chapter Four
Much to Draco's disappointment, Granger did not have any baby-related reasons to see him on the horizon. She was keeping herself very busy at work – running herself even more ragged than usual, as she tried to get her office in order so she could take an extended maternity leave, ignoring entirely the Healer's instructions that she rest. So, no surprise there. Since he couldn't spend time with Hermione, Draco focused on finding himself a flat close to hers, which meant he had to venture more and more into Muggle London.
Theo bravely came with him, as Draco attempted to navigate the non-magical property market. This would be so much easier if he still had access to the Malfoy vaults – seemingly endless gold could have been used to hire someone who was more suited to make these arrangements, for starters. Truly ridiculous amounts of gold was also useful in the procurement of a much posher address. But it was not to be. Draco was just going to have to learn to live within his severely reduced means – he had limited funds, and his job wasn't going to fill his coffers, so much as pay his bills. Which was something he was going to start having. So that left Draco to marshal whatever latent tendencies he might have towards fiscal responsibility – in sharp contrast to his previous life, when money was no object to getting whatever he wanted.
Well, on second thought, Draco supposed that his former means were not, in fact, capable of delivering everything he wanted. The Malfoy vaults were never going to be an inducement for Granger.
The experience of locating a new home in a Muggle neighbourhood was exhausting and unpleasant. Everything about Muggles was so confusing. Thank Merlin, Theo was there to help, even if the 'help' largely consisted of coming along with Draco for moral support. Well, seeing how it was Theo, maybe immoral support would be more accurate. But at least it was still support. Theo was company, and Draco was so grateful he had someone else with him who was similarly bewildered by Muggle London. Draco wondered if Hermione had experienced something similar, when she first came to Hogwarts and started to live in a world with magic. He had never considered the culture shock that Muggle-borns must experience – not until he had to maneuver around a world without magic.
There was a very clear cultural gap between the Muggle rental agent and the two wizards, who had both been raised in staunch pure-blood homes. The harried woman was mystified as to why Draco could only correspond via letter, but Draco did not have a – fone? phon? – whatever sort of number she had requested he give her, so she'd have to make do with his owl. For his part, Draco had no idea how to run any of the appliances the woman was determined to show him in every prospective flat and he had no one he could ask about all of this, Muggle-ness.
Hermione was out, obviously. Very few Slytherins had any inclination towards interacting with Muggles in theory, never mind any actual experience with Muggles in practice. The only person he had known who had ever taken Muggle Studies with any sort of seriousness was Daphne Greengrass, and she wasn't speaking to him. Or, so Draco had been advised by Theo. Not that Draco would ask for her help in any event. He was well-shot of the Greengrasses by now and he wasn't about to voluntarily kick over that hornet's nest. Shame about Daphne, though. They had been friends once, back at Hogwarts.
After several bewildering and trying days, Draco found a nice three-bedroom flat with a large open plan kitchen that was within walking distance to Granger's flat. Their two apartments were more or less on either side of a large park, although only Draco's had a view of it, with Granger's being a few streets back on her side. He thought the park might be a nice place to take their daughter, after she was walking and you know, born. He had even scoped out the playground equipment – some sort of weird Muggle tradition of fixed and unmoving colourful structures, that children apparently climbed over – and resolved to ask Granger at what age did Muggle children start using such things. That slide went up far too high for Draco's liking, and he had witnessed a Muggle boy climbing on the outside of the structure in a way that looked profoundly unsafe.
Since Granger did not have any thing for him to do at present, Draco occupied himself with settling into his flat. Draco had left Malfoy Manor with nothing, so Theo graciously furnished the place with some surplus items from his own manor. "Honestly, I won't even notice. I found an entire storeroom filled with shrunken down antiques, after Father died. In fact, if you know of anyone else who needs furniture, let me know. I'd like to clear the place out a bit more. I mean, who needs that many armoires?" Theo had said cheerfully, loading Draco down with an entire flat's worth of furniture, which they both enlarged back to full size and moved about Draco's new home.
Coming from Nott Manor, the furniture was overwhelmingly green and silver, but, beggars can't be choosers and Hermione wasn't likely coming over anytime soon. If she did, maybe Draco could charm the place to be red and gold instead – like what he assumed the Gryffindor Common room looked like. Would that make her feel more comfortable? Maybe he should start thinking about an appropriate neutral colour scheme instead. He did permanently remove any snake insignia. Theo raised an eyebrow at that Draco upon noticing the alteration, his expression a silent question. Draco shrugged. "Slytherin – the man, not the House? His whole raison d'être was eradicating Muggle-borns. You may recall, she got petrified by his fucking snake in our second year."
"Oh yeah." Theo said thoughtfully. "I had forgotten that. Merlin, why did she ever take up with you?"
"Honestly, I have no idea," Draco answered Theo distractedly, from over his shoulder. He exhaled in frustration, staring at the source of his own consternation in the kitchen. This 'dishwasher' made no bloody sense to him. However, he was determined that he would not let it win. Draco was very serious about showing Granger he was 'Making An Effort.' He had thought that as part of living in a Muggle neighbourhood, he should learn how to do things like his Muggle neighbours. He had changed some galleons into Muggle currency and had already practiced using it, by going to the grocery store. Draco had a lingering fantasy of eventually surprising Granger with just how well he had assimilated into his new, non-Manor lifestyle. He hoped that adding in Muggle adaptations would move his score from Excellent, into Outstanding territory – surprising exactly no one, Hermione Jean Granger had very high standards. She never accepted any less than an "O" for herself, after all. Draco put the soap in, closed it and started pressing buttons. Eventually, there was a light that stayed lit up, and some noises that sounded like water rushing behind the closed door. Maybe this was right? He turned his attention back to Theo, who was still looking at him expectantly.
"Do you think she'll come over here, ever?" Theo asked, voice skeptical.
"Hopefully at least once, before our daughter gets married. Mostly, I don't want to have something that is effectively guaranteed to make her uncomfortable lying in wait, if I ever have the opportunity for her to come over here."
"Ha! How much do you want to bet that your daughter eventually marries the spawn of Potter, or of one of the many Weasleys?"
"Why would you say that to me?" Draco looked at Theo, feeling hurt by his friend's betrayal. Draco shivered.
Just, no.
"Ah. It will be fine. Long time before you have to worry about that absolutely probable, very likely to occur future. Is it supposed to do that?" Theo pointed behind Draco, in the direction of the kitchen, his expression curious, but not alarmed.
Draco turned around and saw an enormous amount of smallish soap bubbles, which were still pouring out of the cracks around the door to the dishwasher. What the fuck was happening now? Draco yelped, ran over to the machine and opened the door. A larger cloud of bubbles spilled out, along with quite a bit of water. Draco sighed and took out his wand, vanishing the bubbles and the water with an evanesco.
"Maybe I should just wash them by hand." Draco was disgusted with himself. This was something Muggles did all the time, for Merlin's sake! He had read the instruction manual, even though he only understood about half of the blasted words used in it. Why couldn't he figure this out?
Theo nodded; expression solemn in the face of Draco's frustration. "Want one or two of my house elves? It's just me at the Manor and I know they don't have a tonne to do. A few of them might even honestly prefer it – I've had some requests for additional tasks."
"Exactly how well do you think that would go over with Granger, the founder – and sole persisting member – of S.P.E.W.?" Draco sighed and his rubbed his face, absently. He felt very tired.
"Not well. Guess you're fucked, then? Although, wasn't Potter raised by Muggles? He might help a bloke out. Ask him."
Theo was attempting – unsuccessfully – to effect an expression of wide-eyed innocence. On more than one occasions he had poked fun at Draco for being overly enamoured of the correspondences received from Potter. Draco felt his cheeks redden at the thought, and he willed his face to appear neutral. Potter might, in fact, be willing to help out Draco. But Draco felt like he needed to put in the effort himself first – to show Granger his 'bona fides,' just like she asked.
"Let me give it a week. If I'm still hopeless, I will reconsider."
xXx
It was two weeks, actually, before Draco broke down and asked Potter for help. The erstwhile Chosen One laughed until he cried, when he saw the state of Draco's flat and heard about his trouble with the dishwasher. Draco had made numerous attempts at solving the challenge of that bloody machine, and every time, it created a veritable explosion of bubbles.
After Harry stopped laugh-crying, he explained the difference between dish soap and dishwashing detergent – which was absolutely fucking misleading, to the point that Draco had to think that some arsehole had called those two apparently separate and distinct items something completely bloody similar on purpose. But at least now, he knew how to use his dishwasher. Draco hoped that Granger would be impressed by it, as it had been so much more difficult than he had expected. Potter also taught him how to use the laundry machine, for good measure, meaning Draco had now conquered two – admittedly related, but still technically different – aspects of Muggle life. To hear him tell it, the Muggles who raised Potter had effectively treated the bleeding Chosen One like a house elf – with the end result being that the green-eyed man was very proficient with Muggle-style chores. Draco felt like he was going to be permanently indebted toward Potter – just another humiliation he was going to have to endure, in the name of showing his penitence to Granger.
Although, and Draco very reluctant to even think about this too loudly, the bloke wasn't all that bad. Certainly, if their situations were reversed, Draco would have been a lot more smug.
xXx
Draco kept busy with his new job and acclimatizing to life in Muggle London for the next several weeks. He owled Granger, every few days, checking in to see if she needed him. He didn't want to pester her, so he limited himself to owling her twice a week. He was always apologetic about disturbing her and asked if she had anything he could do – either for her or with her. Draco got a response each time. Initially, they were fairly terse. Over time, they had become less frosty, but it would be a stretch to call them overtly friendly. More like they were co-workers – Draco had a sense of what that sort of relationship felt like in practice now. Specifically, they were co-workers who did not discuss their lives outside of their specific shared project. It was just that their shared project was also their baby. Finally, one of Granger's reply owls invited Draco to attend her next Healer's appointment. Draco had pumped his fist in the air – alone in his flat – in celebration. He had really missed seeing Granger. His co-workers weren't hostile, but they hadn't warmed up to him yet either. Theo kept him company, sometimes in the evening, but it wasn't the same.
When Draco finally saw Granger again, he was surprised by how much more there was to see – her bump was noticeably larger. She was slowing down a bit, as the pregnancy progressed and this time, when Draco accompanied her to the appointment, she allowed him to take her to lunch and escort her home afterwards.
Draco felt hesitant, as he entered her flat for the first time in months. It felt very strange to be in Granger's home again, after everything that had happened. Draco noticed that she had fixed the window pane that had cracked from her rage-induced discharge of accidental magic, the night he told her about Astoria. He was grateful – a visual reminder specific to that night would have only added to his feelings of discomfort. Merlin knew it was already strange enough, to return here, in these circumstances.
Granger's flat had two bedrooms. Previously, she had used the second one as a makeshift office and library, but she told Draco she wanted to convert it to a nursery – discussing her plans with him, as she fidgeted a great deal more than normal and chattered nervously. Clearly, she was also uncomfortable with him being back at the site of so many of their trysts. "I thought I could move my desk and bookshelves out here to the living room, and set up the crib in there. I'd also like a bassinette for next to my bed, for the first few months at least. I haven't purchased either of them yet, though. First step is making room for it."
"Can I help? Or, just do all of that? I don't like the idea of you moving furniture, especially by yourself." Draco was concerned that she would do too much. The concern was well founded, because Hermione Granger always did too bloody much, in all contexts and at all times. In Draco's opinion, Hermione's middle name should be "too bloody much" and doing too much was likely to be her eventual cause of death, even though that better not occur for at least the next century, if at all. And the Healer had been very specific that she needed her rest. Telling Hermione Granger she needed to rest was easy enough, but getting her to actually do it was nigh on impossible.
Hermione chewed her bottom lip, as she thought. "Okay. I was intending to use magic for the heavy bits, just so we are clear. But, if you are offering, it probably doesn't make sense for me to do the actual moving. I can supervise."
That was how Draco found himself regularly inside Granger's flat once again, albeit under very different circumstances. Instead of wringing orgasm after orgasm out of her until she was a pliant heap on her bed, before sinking inside of her and burying himself to the hilt – Draco was now moving the same bed, while making awkward small talk, so that there was more space for a yet-to-be-purchased bassinette. He found himself being subjected to the whims of Hermione's nesting instincts, which – as it turned out – came along with a great deal of uncharacteristic indecisiveness. Draco found himself rearranging the contents of her fairly small flat multiple times, until her exact preference was realized. Occasionally even then, her preference changed and the process would start all over again. Draco just gritted his teeth and forced himself to smile, and respond to her increasingly nit-picky requests with polite agreement. That is, until the fourth time he had to move the same blasted bookshelf, and in a moment of frustration, he got a bit snappish with her. Draco cringed and immediately apologized, instantly remorseful. But she just smirked slightly at him, with a knowing expression.
"After you moved it the third time, I realized I was maybe overthinking this a bit. And then I kind of wondered what you would do? If I asked again. My apologies, I probably shouldn't have done that."
Draco just gaped at her, feeling a rush of insecurity that threatened to overwhelm him, as he tried to figure out her motivations. Did Granger just say she was intentionally trying to frustrate him? They both knew that she had him by the short hairs, but it had genuinely never occurred to him that she would abuse that power.
Granger spoke her next words slowly, making sure that he was listening to every word. "Perhaps, in the future, if I'm being unreasonable, you could just tell me? I'm not actually interested in having you perpetually in sackcloth and ashes, you know." Hermione looked at him seriously, her eyes intent, the trace of a smile vanishing. "I just don't think that we will be the most effective co-parents, unless we can share what we are actually thinking and feeling. Which isn't to say, we ought not to be careful about how we deliver these messages to each other. But, maybe feel free to tell me 'no,' if you think I'm being excessive?"
Oh. So she hadn't deliberately baited him strictly for her own amusement. She had done so intentionally to provoke this conversation, to demonstrate to him that he was making a different kind of mistake this time.
Bloody witch ought to have been in Slytherin.
"You have too many books to fit into this space. Either shrink some of them down for long term storage, put an extension charm on the back of your closet, or accept that some of these will have to stay in the baby's room." Draco released a breath he had been holding for at least an hour, feeling relieved.
Hermione snorted. "Thank you, Draco. I appreciate hearing your actual opinion. Well, it's my flat, and I do want these books in my living room, even if it's crowded. Now, you can feel free to stop right now and I will take care of it myself. But –" She paused, putting both hands on the small of her back to do a small back bend, accentuating the rounded curve of her belly. Then she let out a low whistle. " – there are an awful lot of books." Granger looked at him, with a barely concealed smile. Of course he wouldn't leave the books for her to move, which she bloody well knew – the cheeky witch.
Draco grinned and turned away from Hermione, getting back to work and feeling like things were a bit more normal between them. Not like how it had been before – in that first year after Hogwarts – but closer to that. Maybe even something like that. He sighed in contentment, before shifting some of her books to the shelves she had indicated.
He honestly shouldn't be surprised that Granger would prefer to live surrounded by her books.
xXx
In the weeks that followed, Draco helped Hermione assemble a crib and they decorated the nursery in a tasteful light green, which appeared to be a nod to him. They were putting the finishing touches on the room, when Granger blurted out, "What do you think about the name Cassiopeia?"
Draco stilled, and he inhaled a sharp breath. A constellation? He felt tears prick behind his eyes. She was following the Black naming traditions. The House of Black's motto was "Toujours Pur," and yet she had selected a name that honoured his family traditions.
"I like it. What made you think of that?" Draco kept his back to her, as he moved items into the closet, trying to keep his voice more neutral than he felt.
Even without looking, Draco could somehow hear her roll her eyes at him. "I'm well aware of the constellation names in the Black line, Draco. And to be fair, I was close with Sirius and Tonks – and I'm fairly fond of Andromeda. Teddy too, of course, but he has a different sort of name. I don't think all of the traditions from your extended family are bad, you know. This was the first name I thought of, when I found out I was pregnant. Even before I knew it was a girl."
Draco felt his heart squeeze with a surge of affection, followed by his deep regret for the circumstances under which Hermione had learned of her pregnancy and the subsequent events involving Astoria. Granger had been picking out constellation names to honour his heritage, even as he was arranging to marry a bride solely on the basis of her blood status. Granger kept chatting away, unaware of Draco's emotional spiral.
"I will definitely call her 'Cassie' though, so if you are bothered by the shortened form, I think we should look at a different name."
"I quite like 'Cassie,' as well. Do you like 'Hermione,' for the middle name? Name her after her amazing mother?" Draco kept his tone light and pleasant, pushing down his own feelings of regret and tried to focus on the future, instead of an unchangeable past.
Granger made a face. "'Cassiopeia Hermione' is too much of a mouthful. I'd rather not burden her with that."
"Jean, then? The same middle name as yours? Appropriate for our future mini-Granger, don't you think?"
She let out a small laugh and smiled at him. "It's better as a middle name than Hermione, I'll give you that. Cassiopeia Jean Granger." Hermione turned to him, with a warm smile. "I think it sounds good."
To Draco, it sounded perfect. "I like it, Granger. Good choice." The two of them finished squaring away the nursery, in a companionable silence.
xXx
A few more weeks passed and it was time for Granger's baby shower. As she had warned him, it was happening at the Burrow. Which meant that Draco was going right into the heart of Weasley territory. Also, since it was a baby shower, he was pretty sure he'd be doing it sober.
Fucking perfect.
The Burrow was crowded and noisy. The entirety of the dwelling was care-worn, and well used in Draco's eyes – in contrast to the opulent, but emotionally restrained Manor of his birth. There were items stacked seemingly from floor to ceiling, and all of them seem to represent something integral to at least one of the numerous family members. There was so much visual chaos, that Draco was just overwhelmed. He suspected there were more items stuffed into this hodgepodge of a home than in the whole of his parents' Manor house, despite its much smaller size. But, Draco could feel that this was indeed a home, not just a house – there was a lot of love imbued in this place, and it was immediately apparent upon arriving in their floo. Even by him.
Draco had never experienced anywhere like it.
The She-Potter greeted him at the floo. "Hermione's upstairs – mum's giving her some baby advice. She'll be down in a moment."
Draco nodded, looking around apprehensively. "I suppose if there was anyone to ask for advice about babies, it would be your mum." He paused, hoping his panic was not as visible as it felt. "Where should I go?"
Ginny's expression was friendly enough, at least on the surface, but there was a hint of mischief in her face that did nothing to alleviate Draco's anxiety. "Come with me." Draco hesitated for a moment, before nodding nervously and following Ginny Potter outside, into the back garden. "Here you go."
"Hello Draco." A voice said from behind him, with unexpected familiarity. Draco turned around and then froze. For a bare moment, his whole body seized in terror. Draco released a breath, becoming relaxed again. Well, 'relaxed' might be stretching it. More like back to an 'I'm in the heart of Weasley territory for Granger's baby shower after I impregnated and left her' level of tension, and not a 'trying to survive having the world's worst house guest for an extended period of time' level of tension.
"Hello, Aunt Andromeda. It's nice to meet you." Draco was relieved he did not stumble over his words. Andromeda nodded, seeming to realize that at first, he had only seen the ghost of Bellatrix. That probably happened to her a lot, the poor woman – especially during the war, as the two witches looked remarkably similar. There was a small child running around the yard, evidently looking to pester some garden gnomes, if Draco was properly interpreting the excited squeals the boy was emitting. That would be Teddy Lupin, Draco guessed. Hermione had talked about spending time with Andromeda and her grandchild before, usually when chatting about her weekend plans to him, before his disastrous betrothal. Even so, it had never occurred to Draco that they would be attending today.
Ginny looked at him, smiling slyly. "I'll let you two catch up." And she left.
"Congratulations, nephew. While I understand that none of this was intentional, she is a wonderful witch. I think your child will be very fortunate, to have Hermione for a mother."
"Thank you. I am lucky. More so than I deserve." Draco looked at his feet, feeling awkward and a bit dejected.
"Ah, well. Very few people get what they deserve – good or bad. I am proud of you, Draco. For standing up to your parents. I know it's exceptionally hard. But for me, it was also very much worth it." Andromeda cast her eyes on her grandson, her expression fond and also a little sad.
"I'm sorry for your loss, Aunt. Or, er, losses." Draco cringed, cursing himself for his lack of tact. He had no idea what to say to this woman – who was both a complete stranger and the closest relative with whom he was not actively estranged from. It could be worst, though. At least she wasn't also a Gryffindor.
Andromeda smiled sadly. "Thank you. How have you been holding up."
"I've been learning a lot. A lot about how to put together a crib and about Muggle primary school – Granger wants to look at sending our daughter there – eventually. And how to cook by myself, without house elves or Hermione to help me. Potter helped me figure out a dishwasher – it's a Muggle machine. As the name suggests, it washes dishes." Draco sighed. "I've been coping alright."
Andromeda let out a little chuckle. "I see. Sounds like truly a Herculean effort – especially given where you started from. And coming here today. I'd imagine you were quite anxious about your reception, from the many inhabitants of this Burrow?" Draco nodded, fighting to keep his face neutral in the presence of an unexpected kindness, on an already difficult day. It wasn't just that everyone here hated him. It's that everyone here had a good reason to hate him. Admittedly, some of them had the same or similar reasons, but still. And Draco didn't really dispute that they should hate him.
And in the case of Ron, the hatred was mutual.
Andromeda smiled at him, warmly, the expression going a long way to making her seem as un-Bellatrix like as possible. "I'm going to give you some advice, nephew. Make friends with Teddy. Keep him close and he'll be an adequate barrier for you from any unpleasantness for the rest of the party." Andromeda handed him a pack of chocolate frogs. "Give him this, and he'll be your constant companion. Now I'm going to have to deal with his inevitable crankiness when the sugar wears off, so you make the most of this opportunity. Do not increase my burdens, without at least accomplishing something, yes?"
Draco grinned at his aunt. "Thank you, Andromeda, truly. I wish that I had been allowed to know you."
"I do too. Perhaps, when your baby is born, we can rectify that? I know that Teddy would love to spending time with his cousin."
This caught Draco off guard for a moment, before he recovered. That's right. Teddy and his daughter would be cousins. "I'd like that very much."
The older witch put her hand on Draco's arm and gave him a light squeeze, before making her way back inside to the party, leaving Draco and Teddy alone with the garden gnomes. Draco turned his attention to the little boy – he was somewhere around three or four, Draco wasn't actually sure and he couldn't tell just by looking at him. The boy – who was currently sporting pink hair – was flipping over rocks, looking for gnomes.
"Hello Teddy." Draco said, pleasantly, as the boy looked up at him. "I'm your cousin Draco. It's very nice to meet you."
The boy looked up at Draco. He screwed his face up for a moment, and his pink hair shifted to a platinum shade that matched Draco's. "Hello. Do you like gnomes?"
Draco paused for a moment, considering. "I'm not sure I've ever encountered one before, so I guess I don't know. Do you like gnomes?"
"Yes." The small boy nodded, grinning.
"Excellent, should we get you a stick, so you can poke at them?"
Teddy answered with a big grin and a nod. Draco found a stick. Together, they spent the next twenty minutes poking around the Weasleys' back garden, looking for gnomeholes. Turns out, the little buggers are pretty fast, so they never actually got to poke one. Draco offered Teddy the chocolate frog, which the small boy devoured with alarming speed. After that, Teddy looked at Draco like he hung the moon. Draco found he quite liked spending time with the small boy. He had almost no experience with children, so watching Teddy navigate his environment with wonder, was both fascinating and a relief. It would be awhile, after his daughter was born, before she would be able to be this curious about her world, but Draco knew it would happen. She was going to be a mini-Granger. Draco assumed she would inherit her mother's insatiable thirst for knowledge and he was really looking forward to being able to show her the world. Not Ron Weasley's back garden, necessarily – but something like this.
Draco hoped that she would get Granger's curls.
As it turned out, Andromeda's plan was bloody flawless. Teddy really was the perfect bulwark against hostile weasels. As long as he was within an arm's reach of Draco, none of the attendees could very well come over and scream at him for defiling Granger. Draco stayed focused on playing with Teddy, which meant they could meander around the Burrow and the surrounding environment without any hassle. Draco still got a lot of less-than-friendly looks, but no one said anything to him – which he thought was the best he could achieve in this scenario. He have to send Andromeda an owl with his thanks, and his compliments. And some more chocolate frogs for Teddy. He might need to execute this maneuver again in the future, and it would be smart to keep the small boy on side, as an ally.
Hermione found him with Teddy, back outside in the yard, after they had gone on a meandering trip through the whole of the warren-like, maze of a house. Or at least that was how it felt. The interior layout of the Burrow was deeply confusing – to Draco, at least. Now they were back looking for gnomes, with new sticks. Teddy had insisted that Draco needed a stick too. Both Black cousins were taking turns at poking the ground and then pausing, while seeing if the pokes provoked any action from the gnome inhabitants. So far, they were mostly getting told off.
"Hello Draco, hello Teddy. Have you been having fun?" Granger's smile for Teddy was warm and Draco was close enough to Teddy that he could pretend that some of that warmth was also directed at him.
Teddy launched into an excited ramble of what Draco assumed was an account of their afternoon, while Draco stood beside him, still holding a bloody stick, feeling awkward. Teddy pointed at Draco and then continued speaking too quickly for Draco to catch most of his not-quite-fully-formed speech. He heard "fun" and "Draco" and "the best" in there, which caused Draco to blush and put his hand on the back of his neck, while he looked away. Hermione smiled at Teddy, after casting a sideways glance in Draco's direction. "That sounds wonderful Teddy. Do you think you can check over by that tree? The last time I was in this yard, that's where I found some gnomes."
Hermione smiled as Teddy ambled away, far enough to give them some conversation space, but close enough that they could still keep an eye on the small boy. She turned her attention on Draco. "Did you know that Ron and his brothers will capture the gnomes, swing them around by their ankles and then throw them as far as they can over the fence? It's barbaric." Granger sounded horrified. Draco made a non-committal noise. He wasn't touching that one.
Granger looked at him intently. "How are you holding up?"
"As well as can be expected Granger, this far behind enemy lines."
She scoffed. "These are not your enemies, Draco."
Draco just looked at her, a knowing expression on his face. "Ron?"
Granger scrunched up her face in thought, and then relented. "Fine. But not all of them are your enemies. Has anyone picked on you, as of yet? Do I need to go yell at anyone? Or cry. Depends on the person and the offence."
"I'm alright so far, Granger. But thank you for defending me."
"Oh well, that's more or less old hat for me, at this point. Ginny just told me that she and Harry are going to have a baby as well. They're due about five months after we are. Our kids will be close in age. Not the same Hogwarts year, unfortunately, because of how the birthdays will fall with the school cut off. But close, nonetheless."
"Oh, that'll be nice." Draco said absent-mindedly, looking past Hermione's shoulder to catch a glimpse of Teddy as he went behind the tree.
When he glanced back at Hermione, she was frozen. "Granger, what's wrong." His instincts kicked into gear and he moved closer to her, quickly.
She shook her head and looked at him, seeming slightly dazed. "It's like I – I feel like I just had an out of body experience. I just pictured trying to explain to second-year you – you know, when you were at the height of your "my father will hear about this" era, and you were basically infatuated with the Heir of Slytherin – that someday, we would be having a baby together and you would be pleased that Harry Potter's baby was going to be close in age to our own child. It just – my brain completely short circuited. I'm going to need a minute."
Draco winced at the reminder of his own past idiocy. "Short circuited?"
"It's a Muggle expression. My brain stopped working when I thought of it. It will pass."
"Granger I wouldn't change anything." Draco blurted out. Hermione raised her head in his direction, looking perplexed, cautious and a bit hurt. Well, fuck. That didn't come out right. Draco hastened to explain.
"I would change how I treated you, if I could, of course. What I mean is that I don't regret making Cassiopeia."
Hermione's body language became slightly hostile, as she leaned back and crossed her arms over her bump. Fuck! Now he sounded like he was just talking about the sex. Draco cursed himself for being so inarticulate.
"I mean, I don't regret having her, Granger! I seem to have lost the ability to speak clearly, today." Draco assumed his lack of perspicacity was a side effect of being in the presence of this many Gryffindors. Clearly, it had dulled his wits. "I'm happy that we are having her. I don't want to change that. Ever. I wish I had pulled my head out of my own arse much sooner, mind you, but I have no regrets about having a baby with you."
Hermione's posture softened and her eyes were a little bright. She released a shaky exhale. "Well, I mean, we're in this now regardless, so I suppose that's good." They stood there a moment, not saying anything further, the two of them watching Teddy hop about the garden.
"Have you been using Teddy as a human shield?" Hermione asked, after a moment, breaking the silence.
"Yes. But it was Andromeda's idea."
"Andromeda's been through a lot. She's a very good grandmother. And aunt, apparently." She cast a sideway glance at Draco. "I'm going to go back inside. You can collect your walking protego and bring him in now as well, or you two can keep pestering gnomes and come in when you are ready."
"Go ahead, I'll be in a bit."
It took a few moments for Draco to convince Teddy to give up his pursuit for the time being, and come join the rest of the party inside. Once inside the Burrow, Harry came over to them both and made some small talk with Draco, which was both weird and welcomed. Ginny used the opportunity to take Teddy back to his grandmother, and Molly asked if Draco would be a dear and help her get some plates from the kitchen. Draco was so startled by Mrs. Weasley's kind manner, he just blinked and acquiesced, saying he'd be happy to help.
As soon as the door to the kitchen door shut behind him, it immediately swung back open – admitting Ron and George. It seemed as though the Weasley Matriarch had manufactured this tête-à-tête, likely assisted by the Potters, which actually hurt Draco's feelings a bit – he had thought the Boy Who Lived had been sincere in his efforts towards – well, not friendship, exactly. Friendly acquaintances, maybe. On the way to that, perhaps. But, evidently not.
Overall, Draco was finding the Gryffindors to be sneakier than he had expected. Or at least, more competently sneaky than he had expected.
"Oi! Ferret – we need to have a chat." Ron had his chest puffed out, his face was red and he was clearly trying to be intimidating. The intended effect was lost on Draco. He had been personally threatened by Voldemort, more times than he could count. Also, Bellatrix intimidated the fuck out of Draco. But the Weasel? He wasn't going to cut it. George put his back to the door, silenced the room and then folded his arms across his chest, his expression fairly neutral. George had the air of someone referring a Quidditch match; it didn't seem like he was personally out for Draco's blood, which was a bit of a relief.
"Well, seeing how you've trapped me in your mother's kitchen, is now a good time?" Draco's voice was sarcastic and he held his arms loosely by his sides, ready to grab his wand if necessary. He wasn't convinced that Hermione's tears would be sufficient to keep her hot-headed friend in check.
"I have no idea how you convinced her to take up with you in the first place, but I'm sure you tricked her!" The red-faced, red-haired man bellowed at Draco.
Draco felt his resolve to not rise to the bait, fade. He squared his shoulders and looked the Golden Duo's utterly useless plus one, straight in the eye. "How would one go about tricking Hermione Granger, Weasel? That witch is smarter than all of the rest of us combined. You can't trick her." Draco was offended on Granger's behalf. This wanker never has enough faith in Hermione, and it had irritated Draco for years. Possibly longer than he was comfortable admitting to.
Ron exploded. "I don't care! You hurt her. And you do not deserve her!"
Draco felt his anger relent, somewhat. Hard to admit, but the man had a point. "I know. I know I don't deserve her. And I have to live with that. I am trying to make it up to her – but only in the ways that she is comfortable with. Which is why I'm in your bloody kitchen, being yelled at by you, git."
Ron scoffed. "Nice realization for you to have now, after you've managed to lock her into being involved with you forever!"
"I don't know what part of unplanned pregnancy is confusing to you, but none of this was intentional."
George sighed from the door, interrupting the two former classmates, his voice weary. Draco got the impression that the man had been listening to Ron's rantings on the subject for quite some time. George spoke to Draco. "Look mate, I love that witch like a second sister and more than some of my brothers."
"Hey!" Ron looked offended. Draco couldn't resist a small smirk at the tosser's expense.
George waved his hand dismissively at Ron, before turning his full attention on Draco. "She's as fine a witch as I've ever met, and you better not do anything further to hurt her. Or you will answer to me."
"Us," Ron said, as he crossed his arms over his chest, trying again to look intimidating. And once again, failing at it.
George gave his brother a patronizing nod. "Sure. Us." George then looked at Draco, with an expression that seemed oddly serious on the normally jovial man. "Malfoy, I need to make a few things clear. Hermione is family and I am very serious about making sure that she is well taken care by the wizard in her life. I expect I will be similarly protective towards the rugrat, once she's here as well. As long as you are doing right by them, we won't have any problems. And Ron here, he'll eventually get used to it.
Ron scoffed, looking at his feet. "Not bloody likely," he muttered.
George looked at his brother, his expression hardening somewhat. "Then he will at least learn to keep his mouth shut about it." George looked back at Draco. "Malfoy, are we clear?"
"Of course! I am doing everything I can to make her comfortable and, Merlin willing, someday she will forgive me. But I have no idea why either of you think I would be more scared of you than her – if I mess up, I doubt there will be enough of me left to hex. But, if that's the case, you are welcome to do so. No one will be more disappointed in me than me, I assure you."
And Draco was determined. There was too much riding on this to allow for failure.
George smiled at him. "Oh, I know that Hermione can defend herself. Mostly, I'm here because she asked me to supervise Ron, to make sure he didn't punch or hex you. She was quite concerned about your well-being, actually. She's good people, our Hermione. So try not to botch this any further, yeah?"
Draco gave him a shaky nod. That was probably as close as he was going to get to approval, at least from a Weasley. Ron glared daggers at Draco. "I still don't like it."
George scoffed at his younger brother. "What else is new? Come on then. I think the cake's coming out soon."
They left the kitchen. Draco remembered to get the plates, handing them wordlessly to Mrs. Weasley, who had a faint blush across her cheeks, as she accepted them with embarrassed thanks. He nodded and turned away from her, hoping to find Granger, or maybe Andromeda and Teddy. Instead, he was cornered by Ginny Potter. She dragged him off, into one of the many side rooms that seemed to have no logical purpose or flow. The layout of this place was endlessly confusing to Draco, so much so that it felt like it was done that way on purpose.
"I hear congratulations are in order, Mrs. Potter." Draco's words were polite, but they were said without much enthusiasm. His feelings were hurt.
Ginny gave a small laugh. "Thanks, Malfoy. So you know, Harry wasn't aware of that ambush. He was just genuinely trying to make you feel more comfortable. He's really come around on you."
Draco took that in, inwardly feeling embarrassed by how relieved that clarification made him feel. He had been working so hard to be accepted by Granger, and having Potter on board felt like progress. It has been nerve-wracking to think that he had been wrong about that – or worse, that he had lost ground that he had previously gained. He released a breath and looked at the other pregnant witch at the party. "But not you though, correct?"
"Eh. I think it's more correct to say, not yet. See, Harry wasn't there, when I found Hermione the day after you broke your big news. He didn't find her, consumed with terror because she didn't believe her child would be safe from your parents, not with you abandoning her because her blood-status was insufficient. She was beside herself, because she didn't believe she could trust you to protect a half-blood after that. I've never seen her that afraid, Malfoy. And I've seen Hermione in some pretty tough situations."
Draco breathed in sharply, finding himself unable to speak.
"I know that you will protect your child. Now, anyway. Can't say that Hermione's analysis of the situation was obviously wrong at the time, though. She had reason to be afraid, yeah?
Draco found his voice. "Yes. Not from me, but yes. And I didn't give her any reasons to believe in me. Her fears were well-founded, based on what she knew of me – even though I would die for her." Draco didn't elaborate as to which 'her' he was referring to; it didn't matter, he wouldn't hesitate to die for either one of them. And he had taken Granger's words to heart. He was doing his level best to live for them as well.
"Exactly. So no, Malfoy. You haven't won me over. Yet."
"Going to threaten me, so I don't hurt her again."
"I'm pretty sure Hermione can handle that fine."
"That's what I said. She's the scariest of this lot, by far."
Ginny quirked her eyebrows at that. "For me, it's not enough just that you don't hurt her. I want you to be good for her. Think you can handle that?"
Draco nodded at Ginny, wondering how the smallest, youngest Weasley somehow managed to be the most intimidating of the lot. "Merlin knows I am trying."
"I see that. Keep it up. But I'm watching. And I don't actually know that Hermione's the scariest one of us, for what it's worth. I think it might be me." Ginny Potter's smile was wide and a little unnerving.
"Sure thing, Red." He kept his tone light, and slightly dismissive – intentionally. No need for Ginny to know that Draco was already a little bit frightened of her.
"You know, everyone around here tends to forget that I had Voldemort live inside my head for the better part of a year, when I was 11. It was a very formative experience for me. And as I've said, I'm watching you."
Draco shuddered. Maybe that was what he was sensing. "Message received, Ginerva. But I'm already doing it. If you have any suggestions or notes on what I can do better, I'm happy to receive them."
Ginny snorted. "Sure. I'll send you an owl. Let's go get cake, before they start wondering if someone here has hexed you."
And that was it. They had cake. Afterwards, everyone watched as Hermione opened presents. It was uncomfortable for Draco, because he wasn't sure if he was also supposed to be thanking people for the gifts as well. Many of them looked at him like he was supposed to be up there with Hermione, so he stood next to and slightly behind Granger; accepting the assorted items as she unwrapped them and thanked whichever person gifted it to her – er, them – in the first place. When it was all unwrapped, Arthur Weasley made them both pose for a photo, with all of the presents, together.
Granger's bump had a big red bow tied around it, courtesy of George. At Arthur's urging, Draco awkwardly put his arm around Hermione and focused on not pulling her in too close. He tried to think about how he would pose next to one of his co-workers at the Apothecary and aimed for slightly warmer than that. He definitely did not try to smell her hair, but the floral scent was in his nose regardless, reminding him of all the times he held her by the hair when they were on more intimate terms. Fuck, he couldn't think about that now – but being close enough to feel the warmth from her body and to smell her scent. After so long, it was a challenge to keep his composure. Draco tried affect an expression of pleasant nonchalance, hoping he wouldn't look too out of place in the eventual photograph.
Arthur put down the camera and Granger shivered as she stepped away from him. Draco didn't say anything about it, but he felt a surge of hope that maybe he wasn't the only one so affected by their unplanned closeness. Maybe Granger missed him too?
Hermione turned to him, with a bit of a shy smile. "Help me bring all of this back to my flat?"
"Of course, Granger. For you, anything."
Draco liked having hope.
