A/N: Chapter Forty-Four!

In case you're wondering, we didn't have sex that night. In fact, we didn't have sex at all for about three weeks. It was part of Draco's 'giving us a proper go' mentality and although I found it admirable that he was genuinely trying — your girl needed that D. Like, to the point that my vibrator honest-to-Merlin stopped working.

TMI? TMI.

Anyway.

I'm not sure where we stood at that point. It wasn't a committed relationship — but I did know neither of us were seeing other people. It helped that he relocated from Manhattan to London (something he planned to do before our little reunion) which made it easier to see one another and keep in contact. Our friends were curious, but we maintained silence on the subject. None of them knew our arrangement — only that we were exclusive and didn't refer to one another as boyfriend or girlfriend.

In hindsight, it was basically a relationship without titles, which, to my knowledge, was a man's wildest, wettest dream — but it wasn't Draco's idea. It was mine.

Two Months Later

Draco rolled from away from me, in hysterics, laughing harder than I'd ever heard him. I swallowed hard, mortified and embarrassed and seconds away from digging a hole through my bed, from where I could sink deep into the core of the earth and never be heard from again. It was worse than the time I answered wrong in Muggle Studies — much, much worse. It was one photograph short of being worse than the balcony sex incident, to be honest.

"That — That's never happened before —" I blurted, hastily covering myself with a bed sheet, as Draco continued to laugh at my expense.

Like, with actual tears in his eyes.

He moved closer to me then, noticing that my cheeks and neck had gone red from how humiliated I felt. Though, his shoulders still shook with internal chuckles. "No need to explain," he said to me, fighting through the laughter, smiling as he kissed the top of my head. "I found it very sexy."

I grimaced. "Please, don't patronize me."

"I'm not patronizing you!" he countered, beyond amused.

"You're making me feel bad about something I couldn't control," I furthered, sitting up and turning away from him with my legs hanging over the right side of the bed.

Draco pouted, sparing a couple seconds before shifting towards me, from behind, on his knees, leaving a trail of kisses along the back of my neck. "Please, don't be cross with me. I'm sorry for laughing," he whispered. "Really, Hermione…female ejaculation is nothing to be ash —"

"Don't use that word," I interjected, eyes wide, bottom lip twitching with laughter; though I tried my best to hide it.

"What else am I supposed to call it?" he asked, genuinely curious. "The other term is so crass. Don't you think?"

I turned to him then, tossing him a narrow look. "Coming from the bloke who calls his willy 'the 'Basilisk' and refers to sex as traversing the 'Chamber of Secrets' — I would think not!"

Draco lost it, breaking out into another fit of laughter, hugging the tension from my facial features with his surprisingly comforting embrace. "Oh, Hermione. Never a dull moment with you. I'll give you that."

I muttered some curses under my breath. "Still upset over here."

"Still?" he furthered, pausing a moment. "Okay, here's a joke. What do you and the Giant Squid have in common?"

It should have been clear to me right then and there, but my dumb arse thought he actually had the intent to make me feel better.

"I don't know…" I answered, oblivious for the first time in my life. "What?"

Draco held back a small laugh, hand sliding towards one of the pillows. "You both squirt!" he blurted, shielding himself from me, as I launched at him, playfully (and not-so-playfully) mauling him with my arms and legs.

Three Hours Later

Still a little annoyed and not at all ready to jump back in bed with him, both myself and Draco arrived at Harry and Ginny's annual Christmas Party with a couple gifts for little James and some cake that I had baked earlier on. It was my first attempt at baking since I lit my parents' house on fire back in '97 and although I was sure the cake had bits of egg shell baked into it, Harry and Ginny were more than gracious and assured me it tasted phenomenal.

Friendship.

I should explain that myself and Draco had received more than a few curious looks from the other guests, as we maintained the fact that we weren't a couple, and yet went to parties as a couple and bought gifts for babies as a couple and held hands when we thought no one was looking — as couples do.

It was beginning to feel a lot like a serious, committed relationship, which was not what I had in mind, for obvious reasons. Namely, the fact that my last two serious relationships had ended with me in hysterical tears. Like, full-on racoon eyes, snot-dripping-down-the-face, more-than-should-be-physically-possible tears.

Needless to say, I wasn't a beautiful crier.

That in mind, I left Draco's side and found the other girls near the other side of the lounge, where Astoria appeared to be telling the story of when she and Blaise were caught having sex at Westfield. It was an amusing anecdote, one that Ginny topped with the time Harry went down on her in the Forbidden Forest, during their first attempt at a relationship. Before then, it slipped my mind they had broken up at all. It seemed their relationship had become a permanent fixture in my life, like the one Penelope and Rowan shared — my parents.

"That's nothing…" Daphne furthered, motioning for the lot of us to move in closer, as she topped all the stories with one that had my balcony incident beat.

I gaped at her. "No…"

"Yes," she giggled, smiling and waving at Ronald, who smiled and waved back, an arch in his brow as we broke out into a fit of laughter.

Ginny shuddered a bit. "Enough about my brother," she decided. "Hermione, give us your story — excluding the balcony incident."

I paused, thinking about what happened earlier that day, cringing a little, and then, without warning, I landed on something I hadn't thought about in a long time — the broom closet.

It was the only time, excluding my would-have-been-hook-up with Charlie, and the aforementioned balcony incident, that I had sex in a public place.

"Erm — drawing a blank," I lied, receiving disappointed sighs all around.

From there, our discussion made the swift transition into mature, adult topics, such as the housing market and the dangers of riding a broomstick without a helmet, as well as cardboard applicator versus plastic and/or no applicator.

v mature.

Two Hours Later

It was after dinnertime and I was, without a doubt, stuffed beyond measure. Had I breathed too hard, the seams along the sides of my dress would surely have come apart bit by bit. Luckily, my date was an expert with clothing repair. I sluggishly found his side, as most of the others had slipped into food coma, and sat with him near the fireplace. It crackled and hissed, casting an orange glow over the lounge, making Ron's hair appear as though it were truly on fire.

I smiled at this, reminded of good times in the Gryffindor Common Room. Only, things were different, as there were Slytherins in our presence; most of whom were excellent friends of mine. I didn't think the day would come when I considered the likes of Astoria Greengrass to be friendship-worthy, nor Draco, for that matter. But I talked to them the most out of everyone.

I liked that she was brutally honest and always, always ready to have a good time. I found she quite reminded of Jillian, someone with whom I had lost touch since we entered adulthood. In fact, I had lost touch with most of my relatives over the years and I supposed it was bound to happen, as I was a witch, with witch-y things to do, but it would have been nice to have a small Granger Family Reunion.

On second thought, nah.

"You're doing that thing again…" Draco voiced, making room for me on the arm chair, smiling as I opted to sit on his lap.

I looked to him, in a strangely good mood. "What thing?"

"Acting like my girlfriend," he answered, in a manner that was neither horrified nor repulsed — more sentimental than anything.

"You're such a sap," I smiled, situated on his lap, with the back of my head against his chest and his arms around me. Our height different was immense, but I quite liked being with abnormally tall men. It made overpowering them more fun.

Around then, we heard something come from upstairs. It wasn't terribly loud, as no one else had noticed, mostly because they were all asleep, but I jerked into upright position the moment I identified the source.

"James —" I voiced, worried, wheeling a look around and spotting his parents on another sofa, asleep. To my knowledge, they put their son to bed hours ago and had recently decided to employ the 'tough love' technique, but something in me cried with that little blob whenever so much as a whimper escaped his itty bitty lips.

"Should we tell Harry and Ginny?" asked my date, scratching the back of his head.

I bit my bottom lip, in thought. "Erm — no. I'll just — I'll go up there and sort him out. He probably needs his nappies changed."

Draco gagged a little, but followed me nonetheless, mirroring my tiptoeing as we moved up the stairs and into the baby's room. It was a large room, with mint green walls and loads of cartoon elephants plastered over the walls. James loved elephants. I mean, he couldn't properly speak yet and didn't know his fingers from his toes, but he loved elephants.

I leaped across the floor, careful to land as soft as possible, evading squeaky toys and anything that would draw too much attention, before finding myself near the crib, where I lifted James into my arms and took a whiff of his nappies.

"Status report?" Draco asked, hovering near the door, as though there were a force field blocking him.

This time, I gagged, holding James up — Simba style. "Code brown. Definite code brown!"

"All yours, babe."

I grimaced, moving James to his changing table and remembering what his mother and father had taught me, for the nights that I looked after the poop monster. It was simple enough.

1. Dispose of soiled nappy.

2. Wipe baby bottom.

3. Check for rashes on baby bottom.

4. Apply rash cream and/or petroleum jelly where necessary.

5. Secure clean nappy.

6. Marvel at work.

7. Last but not least, cuddles!

In response to the last step, James usually gave me a dopey grin and listened to me as I told him all about early admission into Healer School and the benefits of being an intern at the Ministry during summer holidays. Never too soon, right?

That night, however, something was wrong. James had no dopey grin on his face. It looked to me as though he were seconds away from crying, again, during which time I quickly waved Draco over and had him hold the baby, as I checked his vitals and made sure everything was in order — physically speaking. Again, one of the things his mother and father had taught me.

"He seems fine to me," I reasoned, frowning a little, tickling the baby's toes. "What is it, Jimmy? Upset about England losing the Quidditch World Cup, like Mum and Dad?"

From there, a tiny whimper escaped his lips, which then grew into a full on cry. If I wasn't so heartbroken over it, I would surely have laughed at Draco's reaction. He panicked, eyes wide, sweaty forehead, as though he were holding an atomic bomb.

"What do I do with it?" he asked, desperate for me to grab hold of the child. "What do I do with it, Hermione?!"

"First, he's a human being, not an 'it' —" I said, matter-of-factly. "Second, sit your arse on that rocker and sing him to sleep."

Draco stared at me, horrified. "Sit on the what and do what?"

I tossed him a knowing look. "Oh, go on. You'll have to learn sooner or later. Just support his neck and hold him the way you would one of your designs — with care and caution."

"What if he shits on me?" the man asked, eyes moist with emotion, at the mere idea of such a horrible thing. "Hermione, if he shits on me —"

"He won't," I interjected, motioning him to the rocker, and waiting until he sat with baby James, cradled in his arms. " — and don't use bad words in front of the baby."

Draco grimaced. "Yeah, yeah."

"I'll be right back," I then said, ignoring his looks of protest, as I tiptoed out of the room. "Just going to the loo. I think I've started my period."

I could hear another gagging noise, the moment those last words left my lips, still amused at every male's reaction to menstruation. It was such a taboo subject — especially in the wizarding world. I made mental notes everyday to teach my future children about their bodily functions on my own, without pamphlets or right wing propaganda, as those things usually worked to brainwash growing children into thinking their bodies were foul and disgusting and should never be discussed.

It then occurred to me, as it usually did, that I was far from having children. In fact, I wasn't even married — not that you had to be married to have children, but you know what I mean. I suppose I had never imagined myself in a pseudo-relationship with no real future, at the age of twenty-eight. By now, I would liked to have been married, with a decent-sized house, most of the mortgage paid, and maybe my first baby on the way.

But, no.

I was alone, living in a building with a bunch of kids in their early 20's, dating the same man that had once called me Moaning Mudblood.

Not an ideal situation, by any means, but those things didn't stop me from planning for the future. I had a neighbourhood picked out and everything, as well as names for the children that I didn't have. Rose for the girl and Hugo for the boy. Cute, no?

I sighed with longing and entered the loo, internally smacking myself upside the head as I realized I left my purse (along with the proper feminine products) in the master bedroom, where Ginny stowed our important items, in case the other house guests were feeling klepto.

From there, I moved to the master bedroom and located my purse within seconds, tearing the zip open and rummaging through the contents until I located a tampon. I then made motion to the leave the master bedroom and head back for the corridor, until something caught my attention.

It was silver and hanging from Ginny's antique jewellery box.

I blinked, frozen with an emotion that overlapped my heart again and again and again and again and even when I thought it was done, again once more. It was there, exactly where I had asked her to hold onto it for me about eight or nine months ago, as though no time had passed and that I was back in the Puddlemere house.

Against my better judgment, I moved closer and closer and to the antique box and opened the little door, swallowing hard as the tips of my fingers brushed the thin, delicate silver chain, lifting the item in the palm of my hand and laying eyes on it for the first time in far, far too long.

It was the snowflake necklace.

Ten Minutes Later

I moved down the corridor and returned to the doorway of little Jimmy's room, having realized I was not starting my period and that what I had felt was — erm — well — the residual effect of what had happened earlier that — you know what? Never mind! Point is, I was in the clear.

It took about three seconds of me standing there, that I realized I had left the door open, only about an inch or two and that Draco hadn't seen me. He was still sitting on the rocker with James in his arms, cradling him, whispering something that I had trouble hearing within those first few moments. I should probably have made my presence known, but I found the idea of eavesdropping much more gratifying. I had years of teasing to catch up on, after all.

In deciding that, I performed a quick spell to temporarily boost my hearing, during which time I pressed an ear to the wall, where he couldn't see me, and listened.

"You look a bit like a potato, but I suppose that was bound to happen, considering your father and whatnot," Draco told the baby, the latter of whom was no longer in tears, but giggling, unless my ears betrayed me. "Hmm. Hermione mentioned that I should start a baby line. What do you think? Yea or Nay?" he then asked. "Farting on my arm works, too."

I suppressed the tickle of laughter in my belly, and listened even closer.

"You know what? You're not that bad," he decided, earning another giggle from his new friend. "I guess you have messy, weird looking hair — even for a baby — but you do have your mother's eyes."

Heh.

Draco paused a moment, before furthering. "Bright brown. Flecks of bronze in the right light," he remarked, as though he were thinking out loud — of something or someone rather specific. "I'm sure you'll have the witches going mental for you soon enough. If and when that happens, you come to me and I'll teach you the ropes. Deal?" James giggled again, sounding like one of those babies in nappy adverts. "Deal."

I blinked, stepping back a couple inches, eyes the size of Galleons. "Holy fucking shit."

A/N: I've mentally prepared for the shit storm. Don't worry. It'll make sense soon enough! Again, to Nott fans, he'll make an appearance (sooner rather than later). Beyond that, thoughts on this chapter?

Cheers

xo.