This week has flown by! Perhaps it has something to do with actually having work to do like 80% of the day. Who has two thumbs and is looking forward to the weekend? This girl!

Chapter 7
Hermione looked up as her office door opened. "I need a favor," she stated before Draco could shut the door behind himself.

"And good morning to you too," he replied, taking a seat. "Really lovely weather we're having today. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Come with me to St. Mungo's today, please?" she asked, ignoring his pleasantries. "Ron was supposed to go with me, but, as usual, work comes first. Is this what it's going to be like when the baby's born? Ron making promises he doesn't keep, and me picking up all the slack."

"Probably," Draco replied honestly. "I'd be happy to go with you for your check up. You know, Astoria never asked me to go with her. She didn't even allow me in the room when Scor was born. Hell, I didn't find out about him two days after the birth."

"That's awful," Hermione murmured, dabbing away the few tears that clung to her eyelashes. Rising from her seat, she rounded her desk until she stood by his side. "Thank you for doing this for me," she added, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He was just above eye level with the small roundedness of her stomach. It wouldn't be long before her baby would begin to kick, and he wondered what it would feel like to trace his hand over the tiny foot. It was just one of the many things he'd missed out on during his ex-wife's pregnancy.

He covered the hand that rested on his shoulder and smiled. "I'm doing this a little bit for myself," he said honestly. "But mostly I'm doing it for you."

"Thank you," she replied.

An hour later, Hermione and Draco waited inside an examination room for the healer to arrive. She sat nervously on the exam table, fiddling with the cuff of her shirt sleeve. Noticing this, Draco covered her shaking hand with his own and smiled. "It'll be okay," he assured her just before the door opened.

"Oh, you must be the father. I'm Healer Miller," the stout, gray-haired woman introduced herself. Taking a seat beside Hermione, she helped the pregnant witch roll up her shirt to reveal her stomach. "Your child will be beautiful. I believe we can determine the gender of the baby. Would you like to know?"

"He's not the-" Hermione started, but was interrupted by Draco saying, "Yes, I am."

The pair exchanged a curious look as Hermione tried to rationalize his thought process. Bending close to her ear, he whispered, "St. Mungo's has strict rules about non-family members being allowed in the examination room."

Nodding quickly, she turned her attention back to the Healer, who continued to smile at the couple. "I think I would like to know the sex," she decided.

With a wave of her wand, the room was filled with the sound of a steady heart beat. "Your baby has a healthy heart," Healer Miller informed them. Another flick, and a small image appeared before them. It was her baby, Hermione realized, as the image changed directions. "Well formed, good size, and it would seem, a healthy baby girl."

With tears in her eyes, Hermione smiled at Draco. For the first time she realized he held her hand, and he gave it an encouraging squeeze. "It's a girl," she murmured happily.

"She'll be as lovely as her mother," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.

"Only four and a half more months to get to work on that nursery, Daddy," Miller stated with a smile, pulling Hermione's top back down.

Draco helped her sit up and get down from the table, never letting her hand go. "I'm thinking a Quidditch theme," he joked. When Hermione scowled and shook her head, he amended his suggestion. "Female Quidditch players?"

Leaving the exam room, she poked his ribs and replied, "There will be no Quidditch theme in my daughter's nursery."

"But how will I unload all of Scor's baby stuff on you if you insist on shooting down this theme?" he inquired, leading her outside.

"I'm pretty sure he's still using a lot of it," she pointed back. She remembered Scorpius's room quite well. The walls were a deep blue, papered with moving Quidditch scenes. The comforter on his toddler bed matched the wallpaper. The room was dominated by toys and figurines of various players, and near his bed sat his beloved toy broomstick.

Shrugging, he pulled open a cafe door and led her inside. "I still have the crib and changing table. They're yours if you want them," he offered.

"That's too much, Draco," she replied.

"It's not," he refuted. "They're just taking up space in my house, and they'd go to better use at yours. Everything is still in good condition if you can get past the bite marks on one of the crib bars. Scor would chew on anything when he was teething."

Taking their seats, Hermione reached across the table and covered his hand with her own. "Thank you, but honestly, you've done more than enough already," she said, grateful that he had become such a big part of her life. "I can't help feeling like you give and give, and all I do is take and take."

"You deserve it," was his simple reply. Before she could protest, he continued. "I watched you all through Hogwarts and after. You were always the rock; the one Potter and Weasley relied on to get them out of any situation. For years, you were their caretaker. For once in your life let someone take care of you."

She hated the tears that blurred her vision, fearful he might misconstrue her emotions. Ron, her best friend and former husband, had never spoken such heartfelt words to her. She knew he loved her, but she was also something of a security blanket. Their relationship beyond Hogwarts had never changed; even in marriage she was the shoulder upon which Ron leaned. And now Draco Malfoy, her childhood enemy, was once again offering his support. It was a new and somewhat terrifying dynamic.

Drawing in a shaky breath, she finally spoke. "Okay."