Chapter 3:

Never

Hermione was at war with herself. She was already rising, moving toward Draco and Alec, ready to stop whatever was about to take place. But she was also hesitant. Alec would likely treasure his first ride on a broom if she didn't intervene and drag him away. He might actually excel at the one thing his mother was incapable of doing. Similarly, facing Draco Malfoy was not something she'd thought she would have to do that day and she didn't exactly want to talk to him.

So, fighting her need to rise up and confront the man, she allowed Draco Malfoy to gently lift Alec onto the children's broom and teach the boy how to fly.

Although he'd only risen a few feet off the ground during actual flight, when Alec fell off the broom in the process of dismount, he started crying.

Hermione had never overtly spoilt her son, but whenever he injured himself, she automatically ran to him, wanting to wrap him in her arms and never let him go. She knew that soon Alec wouldn't want her to do so, but at the moment he wasn't adverse to her mothering and Hermione revelled in it. He was, after all, her little baby.

"It's alright, sweetheart, it's alright. Just a little graze on your hands," Hermione lifted the little hands to show him. "We'll go inside and put on a sticking plaster."

Although she was able to perform magic to heal Alec's cuts, she didn't like doing it. There were probably no bad effects to the practice, but this was one thing Hermione liked doing the muggle way. It taught him resilience and that not everything could be fixed by magic. She stood and brushed off her grassy jeans before grasping Alec's hand.

"Hermione," a voice behind her said. "It's been a while."

In her initial panic, then reassurance of Alec, Hermione had, oddly enough, forgotten about Draco Malfoy. She turned to face him. He looked older, but he was the same Dra-Malfoy that she'd known years ago.

"Er... it has," Hermione mumbled. "How've you been?"

"Good. Work keeps me busy," he replied, his eyes searching hers. "And you?"

"Mmm, yes, busy. Just moved back from Australia."

"I heard. Your son was regaling tales of it to me earlier, " Malfoy said with a smile to the boy who still clutched her hand as if it was a lifeboat.

Hermione shot Alec an indecipherable look, "Has he? That's nice."

"Why'd you move?"

"Change of scenery, you know," she shrugged, her heart palpitating in her chest.

"Where's your husband?"

"My..."

"Alec's father?"

"Oh, he's around here somewhere."

"You'll have to introduce me."

She hesitated before responding, "I'm quite sure you've already met."

"Have we?" Draco's jaw clenched.

"Yes."

He didn't move, didn't say a word.

"Sorry, but we have to go. I need to get Alec a sticking plaster," Hermione babbled, already walking away.

Draco's head snapped in her direction. His tone was quiet, "Alec?"

She tossed her words over her shoulder, not even turning around, "Bye!"

Five Years and Seven Months Ago

"If I ever have a child, I'm doing away with the weird naming in my family. Draco obviously being the exception."

He stood in Potter's house at Grimmauld Place, looking at the Black family tapestry. In the past year, Draco Malfoy had broken away from his family, his old practices, his old beliefs, and joined the Order. He'd realised that the ways of his and other families weren't only wrong in some places, but antiquated. Like the naming. He didn't want his children made fun of because they were named Walburga or Cygnus, no matter how historical or astrological it was. "What about you?"

Hermione stepped back from where she was studying the burnt parts of the tapestry, "What about me?"

"What would you name our children?"

"Our children? Getting ahead of ourselves, are we?"

Draco's face was serious, "Not too far. I'd like to get married someday in the near future."

Hermione's eyes flicked from the eaten edges of the tapestry to Draco's eyes. "Really?"

"Really."

Hermione's unspoken "To me?" reverberated into an awkward silence.

"I've been thinking that, once the war comes to an end, I might marry my girlfriend...if she'll have me." He pressed a kiss to Hermione's forehead and she grinned. Draco laughed, "Seriously, though, what would you name them?"

She hesitated, thinking, "Something strong. I'd want my child to have a strong name."

"I agree. I like Alexander, for a boy. That's strong, and not too odd," he offered. "I don't know about a girl. Definitely not Pansy or Millicent, though."

Hermione laughed, "No, neither of those. You wouldn't like to name your daughter after your mother?"

"No. Not her first name. I love my mother, but I don't want to saddle a child with the name Narcissa. Or Narcissus."

"Iris."

"What?"

"I like the name Iris."

"Alexander and Iris Malfoy, then."

Hermione offered him a small smile, "I guess."

Draco quickly checked the hall, before taking her hand and pulling her out of the room and into his own, two doors down, "They'll have my Quidditch skills and your brains."

He pressed Hermione against the door, effectively shutting it. His lips ghosted across hers, dropping to her neck.

She struggled to suppress a moan, "They'll have your hair and my eyes."

"They'll be in Gryffindor," Draco added, his breath now against her lips. "Or Ravenclaw."

"They'll be perfect," Hermione whispered, pulling her boyfriend against her.

He lowered his lips to hers, hesitating mere inches away, "Alexander and Iris Malfoy, our children."

Their lips met.

"What's got your boxers in a bunch?"

Ron sank into the lawn chair beside Draco's and handed him a bottle of Firewhiskey.

"Nothing, nothing at all," he mumbled, remembering that night, years ago. It was a coincidence. That's all it was.

Ron sat silently beside his friend, leaving him to woolgather, and gazed around the yard. Everyone was there. Well, almost everyone, Ron thought sadly. Not everyone had survived the war, and not everyone was in the country.

As if sensing Weasley's thoughts, Draco offered a weak explanation, "Granger has a kid."

"Hermione's here?" Ron jumped up, looking around excitedly.

"Inside, with her son."

Ron paused, "Her son?"

"Apparently."

"Who's the father?"

"No idea, but I know him, according to Granger," Draco replied. His expression morphed into one of horror. "It's not you or Potter, is it?"

Ron gaped, "No! Hermione and I weren't ever together. Besides, I wouldn't be this surprised if the kid was mine, would I? And Harry would never cheat on Ginny."

"I suppose not," Draco conceded. "Go and see her. I can see you're itching to go."

Ron smiled, thanking his mate, and walked in the direction of the house.

Hermione's reunion with Ron was less shocking than hers with Harry and Ginny. She was in the kitchen talking with Molly, Ginny and Alec, although she and her son were mostly just watching Ginny beg Molly to bring out the cake. Harry had long given up on his wife and had joined George outside.

"Please, Mum. If we let everyone have cake now, then I won't have to steal a piece before it's handed out."

"You are a grown woman!" Molly exclaimed, as if that explained everything.

"So? I can still want cake!"

Alec giggled as Hermione subtly scooped some icing onto a spoon and passed it to her son.

"What are you two laughing about?" Mother and daughter demanded with the same glare. Alec quickly hid the spoon.

Hermione frowned, "Laughing? I didn't hear any laughing…"

Just as Ginny opened her mouth to argue, the door leading outside burst open and Ron appeared, grinning wildly.

"'MIONE!"

Hermione laughed as she was picked up from the kitchen counter where she sat with Alec, spun around, and deposited on the floor.

"Hello, Ron!"

He smiled, slightly less excitedly this time, and enveloped her in another hug.

"You are going to have to let go of me eventually, otherwise Pansy might get jealous," Hermione joked, plopping herself back on the bench-top. Alec sighed, licking icing off the cooking spoon.

Ron turned to the little, brown-haired boy, "I've heard about you from one of my friends. I'm Ron, and you must be Alec!"

Alec nodded shyly, "Hi."

Ron patted him awkwardly on the head and stepped back, "I'd better go find Pansy. Don't want to leave her alone with Malfoy… who knows who'd survive that."

Hermione hadn't forgotten her encounter with Draco Malfoy, but she'd been trying as best she could.

She didn't want to have to deal with him, considering their past. The last time she'd seen him, Hermione had promised herself "never again". Never again would she let him get to her, never again would she let a man have such an effect on her. Never again would she listen to someone when they promised that the gossip wasn't true. Never again would she let her heart get broken by the person she loved and trusted most in the world.

The Day After The Battle of Hogwarts

"I love you, you know that, right?"

They lay on the couch at Hermione's parents' house together, not watching the movie that played on the television.

Hermione turned her head to face him and smiled, "Of course. I love you, too."

"I had lunch with Mother today," Draco offered her a weak smile. "She informed me that she spoke to the Greengrasses this morning. She believes Astoria is still willing to marry me. They're already planning a wedding later in the year."

Hermione sat up sharply.

"You're marrying Astoria?" She snapped.

Draco held up his hands beseechingly, "No! No! Mother wants me to. I'm not going to! No! I'm going to marry you, remember."

"No, Draco. You just told me that Astoria is still willing to marry you. Why would she still be willing if she weren't offered marriage at some point?"

He grimaced, eyes hardening, "It was a long time ago. Before the war, before us. It's not happening. I won't let it happen."

"So you are engaged. What was this, then? Just some fun? Sowing some seeds before marriage? Thanks, Draco, thanks a lot."

"No!" He cried, "I'm telling you that I love you and I am going to marry you. I never loved Astoria, it was just convenient. I'm going to visit her family tomorrow, and we'll announce our engagement instead."

"Our engagement? We're not engaged," Hermione said, tears running down her cheeks. "You never asked me."

"Hermione, will-"

Hermione groaned, "Merlin, Draco, you don't get it. Just... just... floo me tomorrow afternoon, once you're done with the Greengrasses. If I don't talk to you by 5, I'll assume you're going through with it."

"Hermione, please," Draco choked out.

"I hope I'll see you tomorrow. I'm going upstairs. You know your way out."

It took several minutes for Draco to pull himself together and leave. In the morning, he would tell the Greengrasses exactly where they could shove the marriage. He wasn't marrying Astoria. He would marry Hermione, whether it was this year or in ten. He wasn't going to lose her. Never.