Granger's potions changed the week after their appointment at St Mungos, and now, she grumbled that she should have never complained about taking one potion in the morning now that she had four to take. However, she did say that she'd yet to experience any nausea like Pansy's. And knowing what Weasley had told him of Pansy's morning sickness, Draco counted his own wife as lucky.

Or he had, up until he woke up to the sound of her wretching just over a month later. Draco found her in the loo, and sank to the tile beside her. He held her hair back, and didn't say a word for the entire twenty minutes that started the day.

"They suggested another potion," she managed before leaning forward again. "So far, it's not agreeing with me." Granger let him help her to her feet, and Draco leaned against the wall as she brushed her teeth. She took even longer to wash her mouth out. "Shouldn't you be leaving right now?"

"I'm fine right here, thank you."

"You can't be late just because I'm sick, Draco." Granger wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve, and tugged her shirt over her head as she padded across their bedroom. Rifling through the wardrobe, she dressed quickly, and pulled a knitted sweater over her head. "Besides, you'll see me this afternoon for my appointment, won't you?"

Draco unfolded his arms, and nodded. "Sometimes, I truly regret my career choice." He came to stand behind her, and rested his hands on her waist.

She didn't look back at him as she said, "No, you don't."

"I do, sometimes. Usually when I have to leave you."

"Such a charmer," Granger muttered. "I'll meet you at the Ministry this afternoon, and then we'll go to St Mungos together." She curled her fingers in the front of his shirt and tugged him forward. Granger relaxed against him as her lips pressed to his, and pulled away from him before either of them could get carried away. "Sorry, but I'm late." Her apology didn't seem to mean very much though, considering she stroked his cock through the bottoms he wore.

He groaned. "I'm taking a cold shower before work."

She grinned. "Think of me."

He always did.

Like any other sort of changes, they started slowly and then it felt like every time he stopped to look at their life, everything had shifted. Draco wondered if Granger noticed it, if she thought about it the way he did.

Of course she did. Granger was a witch that thought of everything, analyzed it before she did it, and she would be the first to realize their life today was not the same one it had been a week ago. A month ago, even.

There was a slight swell to her stomach now, and her hands constantly gravitated toward it. When she taught him how to use her muggle appliances that kept multiplying—or when she tried to teach him. Draco hadn't managed to work all the buttons on the mixer yet. She cupped that bump when she read to children in the orphanage, when she bounced a child on her hip while holding the hand of another.

He'd been on patrols with Potter just this week, and made a stop in Diagon Alley where he knew his wife would be. With two children in tow that he knew had recently come to the orphanage under the sort of circumstances that made her eyes well up when she told him, Granger stood in Flourish and Blotts. She held the smaller one, bracing him on her hip, and held the hand of the other boy, who didn't tear his eyes from her.

Potter rolled his eyes when Draco veered off the set path that was their regular patrol, and Draco pointed out how he hadn't complained when it was Cho they went to see.

Their second monthly appointment came and went, with the third being scheduled like clockwork. Granger grumbled over daily potions because the newest one tasted bitter all the way down her throat.

Granger poked a finger into his shoulder early in the morning before the sun had broke the horizon, and she was staring at him when he finally opened one eye. "Are you awake?"

"Well," he drawled. "I am now. What is it?" Previously, Draco believed the stories of pregnant women to be grossly exaggerated. No witch could truly have the odd cravings his mother spoke of, or the stories that came too. However, he was a foolish wizard and now he knew that all the stories were true.

If he was lucky, Granger would blink twice in the terribly endearing way that would make him crumble, and ask for something from the treat shop around the corner. He'd even take Hogsmeade, if she wanted chocolate, but he imagined this would be another trip into the muggle world.

"I want to fuck."

He stilled.

Granger had a mouth on her, there could be no doubt about that, and while she was a bold type of witch with a list of moments to prove that, she wasn't typically so brazen about this.

"What?"

"Do I really need to repeat it?"

Well, not when she said it like that and looked at him like this. "How long have you been awake?"

She clicked her tongue, and moved to straddle him. Granger sat in his lap, her thighs parted and resting on either side of him. "Half an hour. I tried to get myself off, since you have to work early and I know you're tired…"

Draco propped himself up on his elbows as she leaned down to brush her mouth against his. "Always wake me up, Granger." He slid his hand between them, finding her bare from the waist down. "Sweet Circe, you're so wet for me."

Hermione tore his shirt over her head and cupped his face in her hands as he rolled them. He was careful not to rest his weight against her. "Please," she whined, and lifted her hips to his.

With her curls trapped between his fingers, he slid into her, and groaned when her legs tightened around his waist.

In the third month that was Granger's pregnancy, she was still insatiable, and he never complained to be dragged from sleep by her mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses against his shoulder, or her tongue laving against the dips of his collarbone.

"Honestly," she huffed. "No pregnant witch has any business being this horny, all of the time."

Potter choked behind him, and Draco watched her face redden. "Uh, present." Potter managed. "Sorry, Hermione. I didn't meant to—I just need to give these to Draco, you know."

"I could give a fuck." Hermione said evenly, arms folded over her chest. The way she pressed her thighs together went unnoticed by his partner, but Draco lifted a brow. "You'll know exactly what it's like eventually, and I'm not going to be shy about it either."

Harry tugged his collar. "Right, well, I'll just be going. Shall I shut the door?"

Hermione and Draco both said, "Yes."

The tops of his partner's ears turned pink. "Right then."

When the door closed and the lock clicked into place, Draco looked down at his wife, who currently made herself comfortable in his chair. "You're not really intending to shag me in my office, are you?"

She grinned, hair wild, and kicked her feet up on his desk. "No, but I like the look of fear in his eyes when he thinks I'm going to."

"You are a cruel thing," Draco turns the chair, and sets her feet down on the floor while crouching between her thighs. She's wearing her jeans, the same ones that frame her arse excellently, but also the same pair that she complains don't fit anymore. "What do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"Pansy bought us a gift today."

He ran his hands over her calves, massaging as he went. If Potter wasn't going to risk coming back into the room anytime soon, he certainly wasn't going to let the chance go to waste. "Oh?"

Granger hummed. "Sex toys."

His touch stilled, and Draco stared at her. "And that's why you're here?"

Her grin grew feral, and she leaned forward. "I just wanted to give you an incentive to come home on time this week."

This week had been long, and now there was a stretch of two hours before he could go home. "Tell me about them, love." Draco's hands resumed their path, now halfway up her thighs while he wished she'd worn a dress so he could rest her legs over his shoulders.

Hermione leaned over and picked up her handbag from his desk, and pulled out…something. "It's a muggle toy." She explained, pressing a button until it began to buzz. "It's called a vibrator. It's used by women for stimulation. Five o'clock," she reminded him, and switched it off.

Draco pulled it from her hand. "Potter won't be back for a while."

"We cannot—"

"We've agreed not to have sex in my office, so we won't." Draco's voice was smooth, and he pressed the head of this toy against the apex of her thighs, smirk already curving his mouth. "I'll drop it, if you want." No pressure, never with her, and he pulled away when she was silent.

Granger cleared her throat, already sounding ragged. "Ten minutes." She allowed him to pull her out of the chair, and to lead her to the small sofa that sat against the wall. If anyone were to open the door, it would give enough time for them to arrange themselves in order not to be caught in the act. It would be obvious they'd been up to something though, and he couldn't bring himself to care then.

Draco sat with his back to the armrest, and waited for him to sit against him with her back to his chest. "Spread your legs, sweetheart."

She whined, low and barely there under her breath, but Granger parted her thighs. Pressing the button again, he pressed the head of the vibrator against her cunt through her jeans and felt her twitch. "Oh, God." Her nails cut into his forearms as she held onto him, and he learned how to change the speeds of the toy quickly.

It was waves of pleasure all at once, with her whimpering under her breath while turning her head to kiss him hard. It was her teeth catching his bottom lip, and clutching him harshly enough to leave marks, and it was him swallowing the weak moans that slipped between her teeth. His name over and over again, low enough that no one outside the room would hear her, but it was so loud in the room.

She lifted her hips, chasing the sensation when the pressure relented and her head fell backward. "God, you fucking tease. You are the worst."

He wanted to peel her jeans away from her, and settle between her thighs with his mouth on her until she broke apart while screaming. Draco could imagine her pretty cunt, slick and swollen and completely on the edge. "You love this," he murmured in her ear. His spare hand cupped her breast, thumb running over her nipple where it pebbled against the fabric of her bra, and her shirt.

"I do." The admission broke in half, and he turns the toy to the highest setting again. "Draco, I can't be quiet." This much, he knew to be true. She'd never been quiet, but there was no reason to be in their flat with its silencing charms.

Merlin, he would never be able to get any work done ever again in this office.

Draco cupped a hand over her mouth when she sucked in a deep breath, and she knocked the toy away. "Your hands. Now."

He didn't hesitate. Draco flicked the button undone and yanked down her zipper. She was slick under his hand, and he pumped two fingers inside of her, the heel of his palm rubbing against her clit as she turned her head to kiss him at an uncomfortable angle but she didn't pull away. "That's it. Good girl. Ride my fingers."

She arched her back, whimpering through clenched teeth, and when she shuddered under him, Hermione ripped his left hand up.

He covered her mouth, listening to the muffled cry as she squirmed against him, and squeezed her legs together. Sweat had formed on her brow, and her hair was all out of sorts.

"Oh, my fucking Christ." Granger moaned. "We should not have done that." She slumped against him, and tilted her head up. "Straight home after work, yes?"

Draco nodded dumbly.

The healer told them it was a boy, and Draco ceased to function correctly. He was well aware of the wide grin that spread across his face, and Granger's thumb stroking the inside of his wrist. Granger talked about painting the spare room as a nursery, and shook her head at his parents' suggestion they move into a larger home.

He hadn't listened to why she disagreed, but had caught the words this is our home. Draco went through the entire dinner just like that, his head trapped in a thick fog while Granger glanced over at him every so often. His mother might not have noticed his behavior, but his father had.

Lucius didn't address the fear that had rattled him before they left, but he squeezed Draco's shoulder when they left.

"Did you not want a boy?" She asked him later that night as she sat on the sofa. Granger's voice wasn't accusatory, but open. "We never talked about it."

"I would have been happy with a boy, or a girl."

She closed her book, and set it to the side while tucking her legs beneath her. "Then what's wrong?"

Draco's chest deflated, and he sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. "I don't believe I'm going to be a good father." He waited for her to interrupt him, to correct him furiously, but she waited for him. "I haven't given it much thought since we found out, but now it's that much more real."

She rested her chin on her knuckles, and nodded. A soft smile was on her face. "It is."

"There is no getting rid of the Dark Mark. You've accepted that, though I'll never understand. I can't expect the rest of the world to forget about it, but I think of the day my children discover the choices I made and I wonder if they'll inherit your forgiveness to look past it. A son." He swallowed hard. "He'll look just like me, and that's something he'll carry with him. He'll inherit the glares I get, or the mistrust."

The corner of her mouth had fallen. "He'll inherit your determination too, Draco. Not all of you is bad. It never has been. You've always been so content to place me on a pedestal while burying yourself in the mud. Who you were is not who you are. And who've been certainly isn't who you'll be."

"I put you on a pedestal because you say things like that."

She laughed. "You'll be a wonderful father. Besides, no one is really the best parent at the beginning. We'll learn as we go, and he won't remember the things we got wrong as much as he remembers what we got right."

Draco grabbed her hand and threaded their fingers together. "I'm going to tell him you broke into Gringotts and rode out on a dragon."

Granger snorted loudly. "I'll tell him how I punched you in the face."

"As long as we get the chance to tell the stories first." Draco murmured. "Are you tired?"

"A bit," she nodded. "Do you like the name Hugo?"

He paused at the sudden shift in the conversation. "We'll keep it in mind. What do you think of Scorpius?"

Her nose wrinkled. "We'll keep it in mind."

With four months to go, his pretty pregnant wife had become a storm. Complete with roaring winds. "Draco, it comes with instructions. Please, for the love of— I'm going to call Harry."

"Don't you dare call Potter!" Draco sat in a mess of parts to a crib that had come from a muggle store. He wanted to buy IKEA and burn it to the ground. When he'd said so much, she snapped that it was one of her favorite stores and she would be put out with him if he did.

Draco didn't know what it would mean for Granger to be put out with him right now.

The ends of her hair sparked. "At least he wouldn't be so prideful. Harry would read the directions!"

"I don't need the bloody directions! I can figure it out, Granger. Give a bloke a chance." He should not have picked this one. God, he should not have picked this ridiculous fucking contraption. It had been an agreement—a seemingly fair one, but Granger was cruel.

She picked the shop. He picked the crib. Easy.

It wasn't easy.

"So," Granger rocked back on her heels, dress swaying around her. "Hugo."

God, not this again. "Seriously?"

Her face darkened. "I happen to like the name Hugo, you prick."

Ah, the name calling also came into play in the second trimester. "It's a fine name."

"You hate it."

He winced and snapped the directions open. Draco hid behind them too. "I don't like it, but I wouldn't go so far to say I hate it." Draco absolutely hated it, but she loved it.

"Your holding the directions upside down."

He would have known that had he looked at them properly, but he hadn't gotten around to that yet. "Do you really love the name?"

Granger stood with both hands on her hips. "I'll make you a deal." At the very least, she'd stopped threatening to call Potter. "If you can put this ridiculous crib together without magic, we'll name our son Scorpius."

Without magic. Fuck.

"Deal."

There were more changes to their life, naturally. Granger became more of a bed hog than normal. She watched movies on the television she brought home without telling him, and Potter put it together because some things were easier to have done rather than Draco learning about more muggle technology. He couldn't say he disagreed with that either.

She went to the bathroom several times in the middle of the night, and he played with her hair until she fell asleep when she came back to bed. Granger constantly apologized for waking him up, but the fact of it was that he didn't really mind.

As the third trimester began—something clearly marked on the calendar she hung in the kitchen—Granger's appointments shifted from monthly to weekly. Then her healer deemed that bed rest until Granger went into labor was the best course of action. It was explained to be a high risk pregnancy, and Draco listened with his heart in his throat while Granger nodded angrily.

"I have things to do." She said, but she didn't contest the news. "I can't pick up children, and bend down to pick up toys." Granger admitted. To be fair, she'd really taken the news better than he expected, considering she never stopped.

Weasley's Patronus burst into their flat in the middle of the night, and his voice came through the silence. "Pansy's gone into labor. She wants both of you to come to St Mungos—"

"Tell Hermione to get her arse out of bed right now or I swear I'll get her myself—" Pansy's voice broke.

"Please hurry."

The terrier vanished, and Hermione turned her head to stare at him. "I need you to put my shoes on."

He blinked, and rubbed his eye. "You want me to put your shoes on…?"

"I want you to put them on me!" Then she muttered something about nearly not being able to see her feet anymore.

Draco jumped out of bed, and summoned them, not one to wait. "Yes, that does make much more sense."

Granger decided that she was perfectly fine going in her pajamas, which was a pair of shorts that fit her hips, but not over her stomach, and his ragged Quidditch top.

"Did you hear her scream?" He asked.

"Contraction." Granger said quietly, and she looked very far away.

Pansy had gone into labor early. His wife paced the waiting room of St Mungos, biting her nails down to nubs and he tried to coax her into sitting down. "You're not supposed to be on your feet."

She sat and glared at the wall. "Everyone is on their way. They'll be here soon."

Two hours later, after the sun had begun to rise outside the window opposite them, Weasley stepped out, and there was a bundle in his arms. His face was red, streaked with tears that had already been wiped away. "Pansy wants to see the both of you." As he led them away from most of his family, extended and not, Ron turned to them.

"Molly is going to wail if she doesn't get to hold her grandson." Hermione grinned.

"Pansy wanted her god parents to hold him first." Ron said it so matter-of-factly that Draco didn't understand. "We want it to be the two of you."

"I think Potter would be a better choice as godfather." Draco said slowly because this just didn't make sense.

"Yeah, maybe, but Pansy picked for Noah. I'll pick the next. Besides, you should know that Harry will undoubtedly name you the godfather of at least one of his kids too. Besides, it's just good looking out, Malfoy. If something tragic does happen, your vaults are loaded."

It was an honor disguised as an insult. "I always knew you Weasleys were after my galleons."

Granger stood completely still as Ron placed the baby in her arms. "Hello, Noah." She whispered. "Let's go see your mum, shall we?"