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Hermione spent much of the next few days in bed resting, her body propped up with pillows. Given his past experience with her vim and vigor, Draco rather thought she would put up a fight when she was given her marching orders, but to his surprise, she complied without question. He found it rather odd – it was as though all the fight had gone out of her.
But when he took a moment to think about it, Draco supposed that was hardly surprising, given what she had been through. Weasley had hinted that there had been many more hardships than he knew about; he shuddered to think all she had endured while they had been separated, especially with the stress of her pregnancy added on.
Though Hermione slept for most of those first few days, when she was lucid, they shared short conversations filled with affection and recollections of their summer together: remembering the telly programs they watched; the funny things her father had said to him; his confusion and indignation that some foods were actually meant to be eaten with one's hands. When she wasn't talking with him, he watched her talk to her stomach with fascination.
But she was tired, mostly. After months of separation, Draco had so much he wanted to say to her, and it was difficult holding back. For her sake and for the baby's, though, he was patient. He sat vigil at her bedside through all those days as she recovered. Difficult conversations could wait.
While his girlfriend slept – and he felt guilty about this – he occasionally allowed his eyes to wander over her changed body. Gone was any impression that she was a mere girl. No, Hermione Granger was fully a woman. There was no question about that. Though he had only seen her nude twice, those memories were burned into his mind as if by fiendfyre. Visions of her lovely body had danced behind his eyelids so many nights, as if to torture him. He had memorized her completely, but the body she now possessed was new. The image he had treasured for so long was no longer real. Her body was now foreign to him. It was fuller – not just in her stomach, of course, but in her breasts and her hips. These new curves sent an embarrassing amount of blood rushing to his groin at the most inconvenient times.
Draco wondered if it was normal to be so attracted to a pregnant woman. After so many months apart, he wanted so badly to reach out and run his hands over every new inch of her womanly body; he wanted to offer her comfort not just with his words and with what she called his healing presence. He wanted to kiss every inch of her soft skin and bring as close to him as possible, never to let go again.
The thoughts in the recesses of his head were not so lovely and wholesome. Staring at her breasts as she slept, he wondered how different they would feel if he squeezed them, and how heavenly it would feel to hold them as he buried himself inside of her.
Yes, it seemed that he definitely wanted to fuck his injured, very pregnant girlfriend into the mattress.
What was wrong with him? Was he even allowed to have thoughts like that? She could hardly keep her eyes open after being fucking tortured, and he was thinking about sex?
Something was definitely wrong with him.
Draco thought distracting himself from his attraction would be difficult, but it turned out that there was plenty to keep him occupied. Though Fleur had done the majority of the first round of healing work, the thought of anyone other than himself taking care of Hermione left an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He had cornered Fleur on the fourth morning after their arrival to insist he be included in Hermione's medical affairs, though he hardly had to beg. The young Mrs. Weasley was more than happy to show him everything she had done.
And it had been a lot. Multitudes of balms, potions, and spells had gone into treating Hermione. Draco's head spun at the list of treatments she had undertaken since her arrival at Shell Cottage.
Fleur further cautioned Draco about the biggest ongoing issue. It turned out that Hermione had a minor placental abruption. That's what Fleur had called it, anyway. After a brief verbal description, Draco had poured over Hermione's various books on pregnancy that she kept stowed away in that clever bag of hers. Searching the indexes for placental abruption proved useful. It turned out that the trauma from the torture had caused her placenta to slightly detach from her uterine wall; that had been the bleeding. Looking back, Draco realized there hadn't been as much blood as he had originally perceived. Panic had made it all seem worse than it actually had been.
Still, the baby was lucky to be as well as she was.
Draco marveled at that luck every hour of every day.
In the days following their arrival at Shell Cottage, March rolled into April, and Hermione's vibrancy began to return, much to Draco's relief. Hours upon hours of sleep had turned into two short naps a day. Instead of sitting vigil, Draco felt as though he was now keeping her very-frustrated-self company.
As time began to pass and he began to get used to seeing Hermione with a distended belly, a new sense of reality had begun to set in. All the things he had given importance to in the past seemed trivial. Quidditch? House points? Pleasing his father? Trying to restore honor to the name Malfoy?
It was all nothing compared to Hermione and their child… their daughter.
Those two were his family now – his future.
Draco refused to dwell on his own blood relations. Though they had occupied much of his thoughts for months, he couldn't shake from his mind the way they treated Hermione – the way they almost brought on her death, and the death of his child.
That his own mother had agreed to give Hermione to Greyback… the thought made him ill.
Hermione, of course, insisted that there was no way his mother could have known… that she may have thought differently had she been privy to the details.
Hermione was too kind, really.
He was not.
No, until there was definitive proof that his parents could be trusted and believed to be good, he was not going to speak of them. He was not going to think of them. He was not going to dwell on the likelihood that they were tortured upon the Dark Lord's arrival to Malfoy Manor when he discovered that Potter had escaped his clutches once more, a defected Malfoy heir in tow.
Instead, he pushed all distractions aside to focus all his energy into his new family.
Hermione needed to take multiple potions a day, and after getting thorough instructions, Draco insisted on taking over her healing schedule completely from Fleur. The regimen was simple enough, and the responsibility made him feel as though he was contributing something to her pregnancy. After having been absent for so much of it, he wanted to make up for lost time. He wanted to prove to his girlfriend that he was committed to her and to the baby – that involving him was not a mistake.
In their many quiet hours together, Hermione had explained her side of the story. She insisted that she wanted desperately to tell him, but had worried that he would insist she discontinue her journey with Potter and Weasley or worse, that he would reject her and their child.
That, Draco could understand. Teenage boys were not typically eager to become parents. And to top it off, he was from a famous Pureblood family that had a history of discriminating against Muggleborns and even half-bloods. Why should he be any different than the rest of his family?
He certainly had no interest in rejecting them, and had expressed this to Hermione over and over again. Granted, he was still coming to terms with his impending fatherhood. Almost eighteen was not the age he had intended to welcome his first child into the world. But he was not a monster. If there was one thing that Hermione had gotten through to him since they began spending time together, it was that message. If there was a child with his blood, he would love it and care for it.
Had someone informed him a year ago, while he was in the throes of fixing that blasted cabinet, that one year in the future he would become a father, he would have cursed them for telling lies. Fatherhood had not been in the plans. It had not even been in the cards for him at all, or so he had thought. He was supposed to kill Dumbledore or die trying. The die trying part had been the likely path – almost the inevitable one.
But none of that mattered now. That was not reality.
The reality was that in a matter of weeks, there would be a little person who would depend on him to survive. This little girl would look up to him. She would idolize him, whether he deserved it or not.
Draco was determined not to bollocks up fatherhood.
That idea in itself was enough to drive any distractions from his mind.
After she had begun to recover, he and Hermione spent many afternoons side by side, reading the handful of volumes she had purchased concerning pregnancy and babies. In a short amount of time, Draco knew more about the details of childbirth than he ever thought he would care to know. Many years ago, his father had described to him the day of his birth: he had gone out for drinks with several other friends – all Death Eaters – while his mother had labored for twenty-one hours. Only after receiving an owl informing him of his son's birth did he return home. His father seemed to have been content not to be present.
"Nasty business, giving birth," his father had commented, "There's nothing worse than a screaming woman. No, best not to get involved. Remember that, Draco. When it comes time for your future wife to deliver your heir."
Draco wanted to be everything his father was not, and if that meant reading up on things like the bag of waters or the afterbirth, then so be it.
To his own surprise, he found the whole thing fascinating.
"It's more proof you'll make a fine healer someday," Hermione said to him one afternoon as they cuddled into each other. She pushed several strands of hair out of his face. Draco's heart clenched at her touch. "Unless, that is, you're having more thoughts to pursue cooking?" She winked at him, and he grinned back.
Gods, it felt good to smile again.
"It's hard to say," he responded, setting his current title, Childbirth Without Fear down on his lap. "On the one hand, I'll get to help thousands of people in a lifetime. On the other hand, I'll always be able to feed you and junior."
Hermione grinned at him, pulling a different book from the nightstand.
"You know I'd be happy whatever you pursue, right?" she asked, rubbing her hand on his knee in a reassuring sort of way. Draco relished her small acts of affection like this.
"I know," he answered, placing his hand on top of hers and squeezing. "So what book do you have? I think I need a break from this one." He indicated the volume on his lap. "It's a bit… much."
Hermione peered at the book he indicated. "Ah, yes. That one. Quite descriptive, wouldn't you say?" Draco snorted. "I've got the baby name book here." She lifted the book to show him the cover. "Sixty-thousand names, and we've got to choose just one. I don't know how we'll manage."
"Aren't half of the names for males?" Draco posited. "That eliminates a lot."
Hermione sighed. "Well, yes. I suppose. But still… I'm just glad you're here. The idea of naming her alone was really depressing. I wanted your input more than anything."
Draco swallowed. "Yeah?"
"Of course. Do you have any ideas or immediate thoughts? Otherwise, I'm inclined to just go through the book name-by-name."
He paused for a moment, fishing for names that came to mind.
"Well," he began. "Black family names are typically celestial names."
"Is that… something that's important to you? Something you want to make sure we do?"
Draco stared open-mouthed at his girlfriend. Even after the hell his family had put her through, was she actually open to following these Pureblood traditions? Her open heart never ceased to amaze him.
He cleared his throat. "I'm… not sure, honestly."
Hermione nodded, running her fingers up and down the spine of the baby name book. "Think on it, then." They sat in silence for a moment. Since their reunion, there had been a lot of these silences. For Draco, it was a reminder of last summer, when they had spent so much time in each other's company without talking. The two of them needed these quiet times. Especially when everything around them was made of chaos, these peaceful moments gave them reassurance.
"I want to pick something with meaning," said Hermione after a while. "I don't just want to give her a name because it's cute or because we feel an obligation to name her something. I want it to come from us."
"So no constellation names?" Draco asked, smirking.
"I didn't say that," she protested. "I just mean that no matter what name we choose, it has to be an authentic choice. It has to speak to us."
Draco nodded along. "Can I see the name book?" he asked, holding out his hands. He opened to the girl names and flipped to through the volume and random. It appeared as though each name had a meaning listed beside it. That was convenient. But what sort of meaning would be best? Something strong? Something auspicious? Something indicative of great beauty?
What sort of name suggestions did muggles give, he wondered? He looked closely at the page he had turned to.
Jane, Janelle, Janet, Janice, Janie…
And that was only a handful of names from one page.
Oh Merlin. Were they going to have to go through this whole bloody book? It would be far easier to just pick a constellation with a nice meaning and be done with it. Knowing Hermione and her entirely thorough nature, he wouldn't be surprised if they actually went page by page. Was she that bored on bedrest?
"You're right. I have no idea how we'll manage." He shook his head and held up the name book and Childbirth Without Fear. "Both of these books are way too much. I vote we just name her Hermione Junior and call it a day."
Draco grinned at his girlfriend. She slapped his shoulder in return, a smile on her lips.
"Come on, Draco. Take this ser – oooooh." Hermione's words were interrupted by a painful moan. She placed a hand on her abdomen and rubbed.
Draco jumped onto his knees, the books falling onto the floor, forgotten. He looked from Hermione's face to her stomach, his heartbeat increasing with every passing second.
"What's wrong? Are you all right?" he implored, eyes wide.
Hermione was taking deep breaths through her nose, her eyes closed. "Don't worry. Those were just Braxton Hicks…" Draco tilted his head in confusion. "Practice contractions. I'm getting them more often these days now that baby's coming in seven weeks."
Draco felt all the blood drain from his face. Seven weeks? Was it really that soon?
The panic must have showed on his face, because Hermione reached over and cupped his jaw in her palm. "It's going to be all right, Draco. People have been having babies for thousands of years, and almost everyone figures it out."
Almost everyone. That statistic didn't exactly inspire his confidence. What if he was the part of the other group?
There was a knock at the door. Potter stuck his head in. "Is now a good time?"
"Of course." Hermione licked her lips and looked at him expectantly. "Draco, can you give us a minute to talk?"
This had been happening periodically since they had arrived at Shell Cottage – the three Gryffindors would huddle together and whisper, leaving him in the dark with a closed door between them. It didn't particularly bother him that they had secrets in their little group. After all, he still had no idea what they had been doing for all those months.
No, what bothered him was that they were clearly planning something.
Draco shot a frown at his girlfriend as he traded places with… Ron and Harry. She had been insisting that they refer to one another on a first name basis. He still felt funny about the whole thing.
The last thing he saw as the door was shut behind him was Pott– Harry reaching out to pat Hermione's stomach. It was all he could do to stop himself from barging back in and putting a stop to whatever they were about to talk about.
Because Shell Cottage was under the Fidelius Charm, all its inhabitants were encouraged to stay nearby. Since their abrupt arrival two weeks previously, no one had gone beyond the little fence on the edge of the property. Yet, Hermione knew she needed to see a doctor at least one more time before the baby came, just to make sure everything was all right. Fleur, it seemed, had done a very good job healing her after the incident at Malfoy Manor. She was, after all, feeling much better. The cuts on her forearm, while still ugly, had scabbed over and faded a bit.
There was still the residual pain in her joints from excessive use of the Cruciatus curse. Draco assured her this was normal. She wasn't sure she had the courage to know all the details behind this knowledge.
Most importantly, baby girl had continued to be her little, active self. It seemed, at least, that the minor placental abruption hadn't affected her, and for that, Hermione was eternally thankful. Everything seemed to be miraculously on the mend. Still, in her opinion, it didn't hurt to get a second opinion.
It had taken a lot of convincing, but Hermione had finally managed to get Bill to give her and Draco directions to the nearest town. After spending the past two weeks straight in bed, she was eager to get out and stretch her legs. Fleur made her promise to walk slowly. Ron offered to go with them as extra support, but Draco had practically growled at him in response.
She had offered to let Draco do the glamour charms before they left, but he had declined. In fact – and this was so very odd – he had turned down any opportunity to do magic or use his wand.
"You need a wand, don't you, Pott – Harry?" he had asked several nights previously. "Keep mine. I don't want it. I'll take any other wand."
Harry claimed that the wand seemed to be relatively compatible with his magic and had thanked Draco profusely before taking him up on his offer.
Though Draco was still a bit wary, Bill believed that he couldn't go without. He insisted that Draco borrow a stolen snatcher's wand when he went into town at the very least.
As they walked over cliffs toward the small cluster of buildings nearby, the landscape newly-green and ready to burst with Spring, Hermione took Draco's hand. How long had it been since they had simply held hands? She couldn't remember. Just being near him was like a balm. She often wondered as they cuddled together, his hand on her stomach and his grey eyes focused on her brown ones, if he still wanted her like he had before. Did he still find her attractive? She had missed him so very much, and her attraction to him flared to an absurd degree when he had his arms wrapped around her.
Surely, he would prefer another, less pregnant woman. Physically, at least.
But no matter. That could wait.
His reaction to her pregnancy had gone far better than he could have ever imagined. Not only had Draco been accepting, but he had really been trying to step up as well. When she had suggested a visit to a muggle doctor, he had been a bit confused and ill-informed, but overall, was more than willing to go.
Hermione had done her best to fill him in on what to expect, though she wasn't sure verbal descriptions could ever do justice to seeing the baby's picture flicker up on the screen for the first time. She hoped, at least, that Draco would find the experience meaningful and informative.
This clinic was, understandably, much smaller than the previous ones she had attended in Manchester and York. It was a standalone clinic located in a charming-looking cottage at the edge of the village. Crocuses and tulip buds poked through freshly-mulched flower beds out front, and Hermione relished the signs of Spring.
When she stopped to admire the flowers, she caught Draco watching her with a loving expression on his face. Her heart clenched.
He was here with her. He was going to see their little girl.
She thought back to those nervous taxi rides she had taken before – alone the first time, with Harry the second. Through both those appointments, she wanted nothing more than to share in the joy of seeing her child – their child – with him.
And now that he was here with her, she couldn't wipe the smile off her face.
"What's got you so happy?" Draco teased as he helped her up the steps.
"Oh, nothing much," she smiled in return. "Just the beautiful flowers."
Draco asked questions about every single thing he saw at the clinic, from the instruments in the exam room to the magazines in the waiting room. She answered as much as she could, though she honestly couldn't say who the divorced singer on the front of the muggle magazine was. His curiosity was so oddly insatiable that Hermione practically had to restrain him once the doctor, another woman this time, began her appointment.
Thank Merlin she would be Confunding and Obliviating the staff afterward.
She managed to keep Draco in check as they discussed what she had been experiencing in her third trimester, including the situation with her placenta. Further bedrest was advised, though it was not to her surprise. Hermione nodded her head in agreement to stay calm and relaxed, but her stomach twisted as she spoke.
She was telling a lie, of course. Breaking into Gringotts wasn't exactly on the list of approved activities for women in their third trimester. But the doctor didn't need to know that she planned to rob a bank before her pregnancy was through.
Draco didn't need to know either. He couldn't know. Not yet, anyway. Not when Ron and Harry needed her so badly. She would help with this one last mission and only then, once they had another Horcrux in their possession, would she willingly step aside for a few months to take care of the child.
When the doctor pulled out the familiar ultrasound equipment, Hermione's worries about Gringotts fell away. Draco looked at the machine with confusion.
"Have I…? Have I seen one of those before?" Draco asked as it whirred to life at the push of a button.
Anxiety returned to Hermione's stomach. Draco had, in fact seen an ultrasound machine before. Not in person, of course, but in her memory. It was one of the happy memories Draco had found to keep her focused as his aunt cursed her and carved up her arm…
No. She wouldn't dwell on that right now.
Taking a deep breath, she gave a little nod.
"In my memory."
The furrow in Draco's brow increased for several long moments until the doctor placed the wand on her stomach and the screen came to life with what was clearly a foot moving back and forth.
From beside her, she heard Draco gasp.
"Is that…?" he breathed, pointing at the image.
"That's her." Hermione wasn't sure what she enjoyed watching more: her daughter wiggle about on the machine, or her boyfriend stare, mouth agape.
"Wha… is that…is that her face?" he asked, squinting.
Hermione confirmed, relaying the story of how their daughter had been sucking her thumb at the last appointment.
Though Hermione had known Draco for years, before last summer, she was only familiar with a handful of his facial expressions. She had seen him angry and sad. She had seen him excited and joyful. She had even seen affection in his face. But this… this was different.
His face showed love. Pure, unconditional love.
His mouth fell slightly open, the corners twitching in the beginnings of a wide smile; his eyes were swimming with unshed tears and shining with wonder. How many nights had she held her stomach, dreaming of Draco wearing this exact expression? It was as though a part of her heart she had been missing now bloomed like the flowers outside the clinic.
"No wonder this was your happy memory," Draco whispered as the doctor finished the scan and dismissed himself for a few minutes. "I don't think I've felt this happy in ages."
Hermione smiled lovingly at him as she pulled her shirt down over her belly, though it hardly fit well any more. As she was quickly discovering, there was only so much an extension charm could do for clothing. Slightly self-conscious, she continued to tug the shirt over her stomach even after she rolled into a sitting position. She found Draco standing over by the machine, the printout of their scan in his hand.
"Why… why isn't it moving? Is she all right?" he asked, worry painting his tone.
Hermione wasn't sure whether to laugh at his naïveté concerning muggle technology or cry at the genuine concern in his voice. Pushing herself off the table, she made her way over to him and gently plucked the picture from his hands.
"Oh, Draco. This is a muggle photograph. It's meant to be still. She's fine. You saw her moving just moments ago, right?"
Though she's sure her words were reassuring, Draco gave a great sniff and held out his hand to accept the photographs again. Hermione set them in his palm and he drew them close to his face once more.
"Am I going to be a good dad, Hermione?"
She felt her stomach drop to her toes.
"Because I'm not so sure. My father was shite. His father was shite. I'm sure all the other fathers in my family before them were shite. What if I'm the same?"
When she wrapped her arms around Draco, it was as if the last several months fell away, and they were just two grieving teenagers supporting each other the best they could. Though the feeling had been far from simple or even pleasant, it had been comforting. And over the course of the autumn and winter, though Harry and Ron and done their best to offer her that same comfort, nothing felt quite the same as having Draco by her side.
"You won't be the same, Draco. I feel it."
He sniffed again, his eyes never leaving the photograph. "Yes, you feel it. But how do you know?"
"How do I know? Merlin, Draco. You read all my pregnancy and infancy books in a matter of days. So I know you're invested. But what makes you different from the men in your family? How do I know that you'll be a good dad? Because I see it in your eyes every time we talk about the baby." Hermione reached over to Draco and placed a finger under his chin. His face turned toward hers, his eyes shining. "You're going to be a good dad because you care."
He offered her a watery smile. "Being stupid," he mumbled as he handed her the photograph.
"You're not being stupid, Draco. Now come on. The doctor is waiting for us in her office."
As Hermione grabbed her beaded bag off the counter in the medical exam room, she felt an odd warmth in her pocket. Placing her hand inside, her fingers found a familiar smooth texture fill her palm.
The pebble.
"I love you."
Draco stood by the door, holding out his hand for her, a smile dancing on the lips that had proclaimed those three words.
Over the next few days, Draco started to come down from the high of seeing his daughter for the first time, even if it was only in a moving picture. Now that Hermione was more mobile, she was free to move about the house, though she still needed help with the stairs. She had stopped using charms to disguise her stomach, and that was what drove most of her mobility issues. Harry and Ron – he was still adjusting to using their given names – helped her with moving around, though he was still fully in charge of her potions. She protested a bit, insisting that she was perfectly capable of dosing herself, but he didn't budge. She pouted during each round of morning and evening potions, and the sweet look on her face made him grin. This was how he knew she was returning to the Hermione he knew and loved.
Still, more mobility meant that there were more closed doors behind which she could hold secret meetings. And she certainly talked behind many closed doors. Harry and Ron's. The goblin's. Their own. It was starting to grate on his nerves.
What were they planning? They were definitely planning something. That much was obvious. The determined look on Harry's face. Ron's doubt. Hermione's guilt. It was incredibly clear that they were getting ready to set something in motion and that he was not privy to whatever it was.
If it involved putting Hermione or the baby in danger again, he had the right to know.
An odd sort of anger had taken to simmering in his stomach whenever he saw the three friends sitting and whispering together. Did Hermione not care about the safety of her child? Didn't she understand that keeping secrets from each other had been a bad idea? For days on end, this indignation stewed inside, eating away at his good mood until even the feeling of his daughter kicking at his stomach wasn't enough to drive away the nasty feeling inside.
It all bubbled to the surface after a tense evening for everyone at Shell Cottage. Bill had seen Ollivander off to another location; in his place, he left the rest of the occupants of the house to pick at their suppers while they anxiously awaited his return. Though normally a voracious eater these days, Hermione merely pushed her food around her plate.
He wasn't sure why he suddenly felt so angry, watching her refuse to eat, but it seemed to be the straw that broke the thestral's back.
"Hermione," he said through gritted teeth, standing up. "May I have a word with you?"
Several confused and concerned faces turned toward him as he spoke, and though he felt his face heat up, he didn't break eye contact. He watched Hermione swallow, a nervous look about her.
"Draco, I want to be here when Bill returns," she began, setting down the spoon she had yet to actually raise to her lips. "Can't we talk after supper?"
"No," he insisted. "I want to talk now."
"Oi, Malfoy. Let Hermione eat. She needs her strength." Ron spoke with indignation, and Malfoy scowled. It was as though Ron was speaking down to him – like he hadn't known Hermione was growing another person inside of her.
"For what, exactly, does she need her strength? Planning another mission, are you?" Draco raised his eyebrows and looked among the three Gryffindor friends.
Harry and Ron had the good sense to look sheepish, but Hermione frowned at him.
"And what if we are?"
Draco balked. "You're going to have a baby in just over a month, Hermione! Don't pretend like that's not nothing. You're tired so often these days. You've told me how much pain you're in. Hell, you're supposed to be on bedrest. What do you think you're doing planning something?"
"Draco, I–"
"I won't stand for you running off and getting stuck somewhere. Where are you planning on having this baby? In another fucking tent? I won't stand for it. This is my baby, too, and I–"
"Draco! Will you listen?" Hermione yelled from her chair, her eyes searching for his.
He saw pain and hurt as they looked at each other, and a little shame crept in. He had not meant to confront Hermione in front of everyone – it was supposed to have been a private moment. Steadying himself on the back of a chair, he took several deep breaths, his eyes closed.
"I'm sorry I exploded like that. I just… I see you three talking. I know you're planning something and I don't want you to be in harm's way again."
The rest of the table looked back and forth between to the two of them. Hermione inhaled as she prepared to speak.
"Draco, I… I can't talk about what the three of us have been doing. You know that. But I don't plan on having this baby in a tent. I'm not running away."
A beat.
"You're… you're not?"
"No. I hope to have the baby here at Shell Cottage. I just spoke to Fleur about it yesterday. I didn't want to bring it up with you until I had permission to stay longer."
"It's true," Fleur piped up. Draco whipped around to face her, his face burning. "Hermione and I just discussed it. She wants to have the baby here and stay until other suitable arrangements can be made."
He felt like all the air had been knocked out of him.
"Draco. Let's go and talk like you wanted. In private this time." She moved to get up and stopped after a half-hearted attempt. "Can someone please help me?"
By the time Draco made it over to Hermione from where he had been sitting across from her, Harry and Fleur had each wrapped an arm around her middle and hoisted her onto her feet. He shot them a grateful look before reaching for Hermione's hand, praying she would still take it.
She did.
Once they were out of earshot of the table, Hermione rounded on him, though Draco noted that she didn't let go of his hand.
"Do you not trust me?" she asked, fire in her eyes.
"I – what?" Draco spluttered, blinking fast. "Of course I trust you. It's the three of you together I don't trust." Draco licked his lips as she searched for the right words. He really didn't want to say the wrong thing. "Can't you tell me anything? I want to help. Whatever it is you're doing… wherever you're going…"
Hermione sighed and shook her head.
"I'm sorry, Draco. But you just can't. It's too complicated – too involved. This is something that I have to do with just them."
Draco opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione pushed on. "I need you to trust me. I've been working on strengthening the protective charms around my stomach. We have a plan. And the second it's done I am coming back here to have this baby and raise her with you." She brought their hands, still clasped together, to her stomach, and pressed down. He felt his daughter shift from within. "You just need to trust me. Can you do that?"
The look on her face was so earnest. Draco felt his heart stutter. He took a deep breath and responded.
"Yes. Of course." He looked from Hermione's face to his hand, where his daughter was almost fully-formed. "I just… I thought I lost you at the Manor. Both of you. I can't lose you again."
Draco moved his free hand up to the back of Hermione's head, drawing their faces close together. Through half-lidded eyes, he gazed down at this beautiful, courageous, reckless, completely good woman who was about to become the mother to his child. Her lips appeared soft and oh-so-kissable and her eyes were molten as she looked back up at him.
"It's like I keep telling you, Hermione. I love you."
With a soft chuckle, Hermione placed her free hand on his chest. The feel of her small palms on his body still made him a little weak in the knees. How long had it been since she had touched him – really touched him?
And then, in her eyes, a cloud of doubt appeared. "Are you sure?" she whispered. "Are you sure this is what you want? I'm not going to be the same – I'm not ever going to look the same as I did before. Surely, when this war is over, you'll want to be with someone less… attached. Someone without all of this."
To both Draco's horror and amusement, she gestured to her entire body.
Oh, no. That simply wouldn't do.
As if to prove his point, he pressed his body into hers. His arms snaked around her waist until he cupped her arse and squeezed. Hermione squeaked at the contact, her eyes growing wide. Making sure to give his sexiest smirk, he leaned down to whisper in her ear.
Except, he couldn't.
Hermione's stomach was too big – he only got a few inches before he was essentially stuck. The surprise must have showed on his face, because Hermione managed a small giggle. The sound of her happiness and the feel of her curves pressed against his made his arousal swell. With a growl that wiped the grin right off her face, he leaned as close as he could.
"Hermione Granger, I will always want you. Skinny or fat, old or young, carrying my child or not." He wasn't sure where these words were coming from, but they somehow felt right. They rendered Hermione speechless. As he leaned back slightly to see the look on her face, she floundered for a moment, her mouth opening and closing several times. Drawing breath to reply, Hermione looked as though she was about to smile when Weasley… Ron poked his head around the corner.
"Oi! Bill's back. Come and finish… oh."
Draco turned to see Ron's face turn a shade of purple that clashed particularly horribly with his hair.
Hermione cleared her throat. "That's wonderful, Ron. Come on, Draco. Let's go finish supper."
Lacing their fingers together once again, Hermione led him back to the table, where much of the tension had now subsided. The two sat next to each other now. Draco was just thankful that the table would cover up his still-burgeoning arousal. Everyone chatted jovially about the rest of the Weasleys and their relocation to this new safe location where Ollivander had been taken.
"Mum and Dad say hello," Bill mentioned to his wife as he settled back into his chair. Fleur smiled in response before dismissing herself to the kitchen. Draco doubted whether anyone noticed his change in expression when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came up. His heart churned with regrets when he thought about his treatment of them in the end. Not wanting anyone to suspect even a little, he looked down at his potatoes.
Suddenly, there was a bang at the front door and everyone turned immediately to face it. Most everyone immediately stood and pointed their wands at the door. Draco's first thought was to move in front of Hermione.
"Who is it?" asked Bill through the door.
"It is I, Remus John Lupin!" called a voice from outside.
The atmosphere in the room changed at once. Though wands were not gripped as tightly now, the fear in everyone's face seemed to grow exponentially. "I am a werewolf, married to Nymphadora Tonks, and you, the Secret Keeper of Shell Cottage, told me the address and bade me come in an emergency!"
Draco saw Bill mutter something before running to the door and opening it to reveal Professor Lupin, windswept and drenched in rain, yet happier than Draco had ever seen him. There was a momentary pause and then –
"It's a boy! We've named him Ted, after Dora's father!"
Hermione shrieked with delight, right in his ear.
"Wha–? Tonks – Tonks has had the baby?" she cried, clapping her hands together.
"Yes, yes, she's had the baby!" Lupin shouted as his eyes swept the room. He paused as he and Draco saw each other clearly. Then his eyes fell to Hermione. Draco watched his old professor's eyes dart down and bulge slightly.
But it seemed that Remus Lupin knew when to pick his battles.
"Congratulations!" squealed both Hermione and Fleur, grins on their faces.
"Blimey, another baby," said Ron in wonderment. "I almost forgot. That means that these two will just be a month apart or so." He looked down at Hermione's stomach with fondness. "They'll go to Hogwarts together."
Lupin cleared his throat. "Yes – yes – it's a boy." Draco watched as the new father stumbled about in a slight daze, a deliriously happy grin plastered on his face. Was this what it looked like to have baby? Would he look like this in a little over a month? It seemed a bit over-the-top, but who was he to judge? Of all the men in this room, though he was the second youngest and twenty years younger than Lupin, he was next in line to become a father. The thought terrified him down to his bones.
After a round of pats on the back and a short, teary-eyed conversation with Harry, Lupin made his way over to the side of the table where he and Hermione stood.
"Hermione," he began, placing a hand on her shoulder. Draco could see the reluctance in her expression. Professor Lupin was one of the people in the world she admired most, and he could tell that this man's acceptance of her pregnancy meant a great deal to her. She trembled slightly as Lupin's face broke out into an even bigger, stupider grin. "Congratulations, you two."
To Draco's surprise, the man looked up at him as well.
"How did you–?" he began, staring at his old professor in disbelief.
"I saw the way you were looking at her. It wasn't hard to figure out."
Draco blinked. The next words he spoke tumbled from his lips before he could begin to consider them.
"What was it like, sir, your wife having a baby?"
Lupin glanced back at Hermione, and Draco observed him taking in her rounded stomach.
"Terrifying and wonderful at the same time. I thought it would be Dora that would need comforting, but in the end, she was the one who brought comfort to me. Something came over her as she birthed our little Teddy. It was as though this inner strength came pouring out of her. I've never been so in awe of anyone or anything in my life. My wife is everything. I just thought it before. Now, I know it."
Draco blinked and nodded. It was a lot to take in.
"Somehow – and I don't know how it's possible – I love Dora infinitely more than I did before. And you will too. You'll see, Draco."
Lupin winked at him as Bill handed both of them a goblet full of wine. Hermione filled hers with pumpkin juice. They all raised them high.
"To Teddy Remus Lupin," the man cried, a smile still dancing on his face. "A great wizard in the making!"
Draco gulped down the wine, and its warmth filled his belly with courage. As Lupin finished up another glass or two, describing in loving detail all about Teddy's metamorphmagus abilities, his own eyes fell to Hermione.
Gods, she looked lovely.
She listened with rapt attention to Lupin, one hand gripped around her goblet, the other rubbing small circles on her belly. Their time for excitement would come soon enough. Hermione would go do what needed to get done and then she would return safely, as promised, to deliver their little girl right here in this very house. Then it would be his turn to raise a goblet and announce his daughter's name with pride.
He had never loved his girlfriend so much as when he pictured the kind of mother she would be. She was already a woman who emanated strength with every breath she took. He could only imagine the force of nature she would become once their child made an entrance.
Draco admired every inch of her. Somehow, in this exact moment, seeing her stomach filled with his child, her breasts full, and her expression painted with affection, made him want to take her right now. On this table if he had to.
But no. That wasn't right. He had to control himself. He had to get them alone. Draco forced himself to take deep breaths as Hermione turned to look at him, a sweet, inquisitive look on her face. Thankfully, it seemed, the evening was winding down. With a few short goodbyes and promises of photographs, Lupin swept out into the night. Moments later, Bill cornered Harry for some sort of talk, leaving only a handful of people left at the table.
When Draco spared a glimpse at Hermione, any blood that had been flowing elsewhere in his body immediately rushed to his groin.
She was staring at him openly; her eyes had the same molten look in them from before. He knew that look.
It set him afire.
"I think I'm going to head to bed," Hermione smiled around at everyone. "My back is aching a bit and I should rest my feet." She turned toward the stairs momentarily before calling out. "Come on, Draco. I'm not allowed to dose myself, remember?"
She shot him an expectant look over her shoulder.
He didn't need to be told twice.
Everyone mumbled their goodnights as Draco helped Hermione waddle up the stairs. All the while as they moved, he kept a steady hand on her lower back, the other grasping hold of her shoulder, his thumb rubbing light circles there.
He could hear Hermione's breath – could smell the lovely scent of her hair. His senses were overwhelmed by her. They needed to be back in the guest bedroom now.
Somehow, they managed to close the door and sit on the bed together without more physical contact than those light touches. Draco was convinced that Hermione was just as aroused as he was, given the flush of her cheeks and the heat coming off her body in waves.
"You said earlier," Hermione began, trailing a finger up his arm, "that you would always want me. Even if I look like a whale."
"I did. But you don't look like a whale."
"No?"
"Not at all. You look gorgeous. I have honestly never felt more turned on than I am right now."
He watched Hermione swallow, her chest heaving a bit. Her breath hitched.
"Are you sure?"
Draco chuckled as he moved to place himself directly behind Hermione. He had learned his lesson from earlier, when their bodies couldn't quite touch in the way he wanted them to.
"More than sure. The way that Lupin described Tonks? That's exactly how I see you. Strong. Capable. Damn sexy."
Hermione laughed. "When did you hear that? He did not say that Tonks was sexy!"
"Oh no? I sure heard it. I just read between the lines."
With a sweep of his hand, Draco moved Hermione's curtain of curls to the side, revealing her slender neck; she shivered at the sudden exposure of her skin. As he leaned in to press open-mouthed kisses to the spot where her neck met her shoulder, he felt her erupt in goosepimples. A shiver traveled up her spine.
"You are incredible, Hermione. I just want to love you for as long as I can. Will you let me do that?"
He felt her head bob up and down as she nodded, a breathy, "Yes," exiting her mouth.
That was all he needed. Moving his body once again, he sat beside Hermione, twisting his body to meet hers in a searing kiss. Though they had shared soft and chaste pecks since their return from death's door, they had not snogged like this since the day they had made their daughter. It was like muscle memory – like riding a bike (a Muggle phrase Hermione had taught him months ago); it seemed he had not forgotten the feel of her lips on his nor had he forgotten the taste of her.
Their lips grew more and more frenzied as their hands reached out to caress and grab any bit of body they could find. His hands found her hair and tangled in it; hers ran up and down his jumper-clad arms. They stayed in this arrangement for several minutes, just enjoying the feeling of each other's lips.
And then her hands moved south. The moment her fingers brushed his erection, he knew he was a goner. An involuntary moan sprang from his mouth as she stroked him through his trousers.
Damn this witch of his.
She broke the kiss for a moment, grasping for her wand. It seemed still had the brain capacity to throw up silencing and locking charms. Immediately, she turned back to him and grasped the hem of his jumper to tug it over his head.
It got stuck.
"Damn your big head," she muttered as she pulled, all the while attempting to grind into him. The latter proved especially difficult, as her stomach kept getting in the way.
"Are you sure that this is… safe?" Draco wondered aloud the moment his head was free from his jumper neckline.
Hermione laughed.
"Did you read the books or not?"
Draco paused. "Well, yes."
"Then you'll know it's perfectly safe. The doctor even said at our appointment that it's normal and healthy for us to have sex up until the baby is born. Because of my placenta, we just can't be too enthusiastic. " Hermione explained this to him, her voice all the while becoming more and more high-pitched and frantic.
"Are you all right, love?" he asked when Hermione began to swear after her attempts at grinding into his groin failed again.
"Yes," she growled. "I just really, really want to fuck you. Right now."
If he had been drinking anything, surely he would have spit it out.
"H–Hermione?"
"What?" she answered, her eyes wild.
"You seem a little…desperate."
She sighed, moving off of him. "It only really just hit me how much I've missed you… physically… in the last few months. I've been so preoccupied with the baby and everything else that I haven't had much opportunity to consider my other wants."
"Your needs," Draco corrected.
"Excuse me?"
"Your needs. You didn't have much opportunity to consider your other needs. You need my body just as much as I need yours. I thought about you and your gorgeous quim every opportunity I got. You have no idea how often I wanked to the memory of that bathtub in Princetown."
Hermione blushed at his words, though he could see a bit of a wicked smile spreading on her face.
This woman was going to be the end of him.
Draco carefully extracted himself from under her, leaving open-mouthed kisses along her jaw as he did. He didn't want to cause her undue frustration, so he rid himself of his trousers and boxers without her assistance, his lips never parting from her skin.
Once he was done with his own clothes, he knelt down to rid Hermione of hers. Thankfully, her pregnancy wardrobe didn't contain too many buttons. Instead, he pulled her soft green shirt over her head and tugged her jeans from her legs, throwing them both in a pile. Hermione managed to undo her own bra while he made quick work of her knickers. All the while, he continued to kiss her, his mouth becoming more and more frenetic the fewer clothes she wore.
Only when they were both completely exposed did he pull away. He wanted Hermione's eyes on him – wanted to see her need for him pulsating in her body.
He got his wish.
Hermione looked entirely fuckable as he gazed down at her. As he had surmised, her breasts had grown larger and rounder. They sat perfectly atop her rounded stomach. The only unexpected change were her nipples. In his memories, they were rather small and light pink. Hermione's nipples had been completely transformed by her pregnancy; they were now darker, larger, and protruded up off her chest.
Draco was struck with the sudden urge to lick them. He never knew until this moment how attractive a woman who looked like this could be.
"Is something wrong?" Hermione asked, seemingly out of the blue. She moved her hands to try and cover herself up.
"Don't you dare," Draco murmured, taking her wrists in his hands and pinning them to the mattress. "Didn't I say I wanted you?"
"I feel swollen everywhere. And not just my stomach. My breasts, my feet… all over. I've got these awful stretch marks on my–"
Draco reached forward and covered her mouth with his, only for a moment. When he pulled away, she licked her lips slowly, eyes trained on him.
"All I see is the woman I love looking completely gorgeous." Draco began to crawl over her body, trailing kisses up as he went. "I don't know if you'll believe me, but I think this is the most beautiful you've ever been. Just thinking of you like this – growing my child – you have no idea what it does to me."
As if to prove a point, he rutted his erection against the apex of her thighs. She gave a soft whimper. His fingers ghosted over her slit and found her already completely drenched. Yes, Hermione definitely wanted him. Perhaps he needed to change strategies to help her loosen her self consciousness a bit.
"My, my. You are ready, aren't you?" he purred, stroking her up and down. Her hips bucked slightly at his touch, though this now involved a much larger movement. Encouraged by her response, he plunged a finger into her and was rewarded immediately by a wanton moan.
"Draco, I don't think I can wait. I can't wait any more. I just want you. I want you now."
He didn't need to be told twice.
Draco pulled Hermione gently to the edge of the bed and spread her legs. By now, his erection was painfully hard, and he prepared to line himself up with anticipation. All except…
"Erm, Hermione?" he whispered, his stomach bubbling with embarrassment.
"What?" she growled, bolstering herself up on her elbows, an impatient scowl on her face.
"Your… your stomach is covering…" he stumbled over his words, unsure whether to laugh or cover his face. "That is… I can't find your…"
"Oh for Godric's sake!"
And with surprising strength for a woman who was in her thirty-fifth week of pregnancy, Hermione sat up, grabbed him by the shoulders, flipped him, and pushed him onto the bed. Before he could really process what was happening, she crawled on top of him and sank onto his member, taking him to the hilt.
It was instant euphoria.
His eyes rolled upward as the world around him came crashing down. This was the feeling he had been missing all these months. This was what it felt like to be alive. He wanted to stay buried in her like this forever.
And then she began to move. Draco swore he saw stars as she undulated her hips in just the right way. From this angle, he could see her tits from up close, and they were nothing short of spectacular. He reached up and tweaked her nipples. When she began panting and riding him with more intensity, he tugged them again.
Surely this was heaven.
After a few minutes of agonizingly slow fucking, Hermione's hips came to a stop, a smile pulling at her lips. He had been so close to falling over the edge that waiting here in this position was hell.
"I'm sorry, I just can't anymore. My stomach is just too heavy." She leaned down to kiss him, panting slightly, but it became immediately clear that her belly was in the way. Draco watched as the small grin on her face turned into a burst of giggles.
"What's so funny, Granger?" he asked, moving his hands behind his head, a smile growing on his own face.
"I want you so badly right now, but it's like my body is out to get me. This position doesn't even feel very good for me." She chuckled and moved her hips half-heartedly over his member. "We can't win, it seems."
"Oh ye of little faith."
Draco quirked an eyebrow at Hermione, shooting her his signature smirk. He was determined to get both of them to finish tonight if it was the last thing he did.
"Want to try something new?" he asked, a devious tone to his voice. "Your stomach won't get in the way and I can help you feel good."
Hermione groaned. "Anything, Draco. Please."
Very carefully, he lifted his girlfriend from off his erection and set her on the bed.
"On your hands and knees," he commanded. "By the edge of the bed."
She obeyed, a hungry look in her eyes. Draco, who was still lying on the bed, rolled over and kissed her languidly. After a moment, their lips grew frantic once more. He needed to be inside her right now. Immediately, he moved off the bed and brought his jutting erection to her entrance. From this angle, he had full range of motion. All Hermione had to do was receive pleasure, and that was exactly what he intended to give her.
"Please, Draco," she whined.
Without hesitating, he plunged into her. His pleasure was cresting hard and fast, and it was clear that this angle felt incredible for her as well. Draco reached between her thighs and stroked her. He wasn't sure if his fingers were exactly in the right place until Hermione moaned without inhibition, throwing her head back in ecstasy.
She clearly wasn't covering herself up or worrying about her appearance now. Pride swelled in his chest as he continued to pound into her. The sound of skin slapping on skin filled the room and Hermione gave short breathy moans with each thrust.
This was the tightest Hermione had been by far, and Draco was sure he had died and gone on to the afterlife. Actually fucking her into a mattress was far better than anything he could possibly have imagined. He watched himself disappear inside of her again and again, pleasure mounting inside of him each time.
As much as he wanted to keep going, the tightness in his balls told him that he would finish sooner rather than later. He increased the intensity of their fucking as he felt the end drawing near. Hermione was now grunting freely. She seemed to be beyond words, but then again, nothing coming out of his mouth was particularly coherent, either.
The waves of pleasure inside him crested, and he came with a shout, slack-jawed and eyes closed. Draco gave three final thrusts before collapsing onto Hermione's back, peppering the skin there with kisses.
"Love you so much," he mumbled into her spine.
She hummed in appreciation before he pulled out of her. Immediately, a sense of loss seemed to take over his body. How had he gone without Hermione for so long? Without her by his side, loving him? He pondered this as he fetched a towel and cleaned her up with care.
Hermione had turned over by this point, collapsed onto the pillows. He crawled up the mattress and cuddled into her side, but not before kissing her belly.
"It's mutual, you know," she mumbled into his hair.
"What is?" Draco yawned. He couldn't remember the last time he was this sleepy.
"Loving you," she paused to yawn as well. "Always wanting you no matter what."
He turned into her chest, placing feather-light kisses along her breasts.
For the first time in months, he fell asleep with a smile on his face.
Finally, after 8 chapters - true smut! Relationship development! Hooray!
On a side note, there are only 3 more chapters left…
There's also a surprise. Stay tuned for that.
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