Disclaimer: Still not mine.

A/N - thanks for the reviews! I wouldn't leave you with a cliffie like that for long. :)

Popping sounds could be heard all through Draco and Hermione's house as concerned witches and wizards Apparated in. While Scorpius' intent had been to change the color of the cloud hovering over his mother's womb, the effect actually worked as a one-way communications system, alerting not only those of whom he thought, but every donor to the magical transfusion Hermione had received at Randolf's facility.

Draco tore into the bedroom searching for his wife, and found a single word written in fiery letters above the bed: CLINIC. He shouted the message over the railing and Disapparated.

Bitsy had done her job well, transporting Hermione and Scorpius to Randolf's within seconds. As the Healer's team took over caring for the mother-to-be, the elf discreetly placed a mild calming spell over her young charge and led him to the waiting area. It was a testament to her magic when the child remained docile as 12 frantic adults arrived.

"Bitsy! Where is she? What's happened - is she all right?" Draco knelt and checked his son, recognizing a calming spell when he saw one; the elves had used them on him for a year straight when he was three.

"Master Draco! She's that way." A long, spindly finger pointed toward the delivery room.

"Her condition, Bitsy?"

The elf trembled and dropped her eyes. "She's that way."

The waiting room quickly filled to capacity. Not only were the donors present, but Harry had sent a Patronus to Ginny, and a quick message on the DA coins to everyone else. Gin gathered Scorpius to her as soon as she arrived. He burrowed into her side, hiding his face next to her bosom. She rocked him gently, nuzzling his curls a bit.

How bad? She mouthed to her husband. Harry shrugged and shook his head. His gaze flickered about, lighting briefly on those assembled. Lucius stoically held Narcissa as she wept softly, and Arthur was in much the same state with Molly. Neville, Luna, Blaise and Pansy spoke in hushed tones. McGonagall and George both kept to themselves. The Headmistress appeared to be praying. The remaining Weasley twin stared at the wall, his fists clenching absently.

Meanwhile, Draco was pacing like a caged yeti outside the delivery room. He'd arrived too late to be in there as Randolf went about the delicate process of delivering Mireille. The Healer used a spell to turn the wall transparent and began to deliver a status report to the terrified young man.

"Mr. Malfoy, I'm glad you're here. The umbilical cord had gotten wrapped around your daughter's neck, causing fetal distress. Thank Merlin your son found them in time." A careful Diffindo cleared the way for Mireille. Draco gagged and looked away.

Randolf gently pulled the baby from her mother's body and handed her still, silent form to a nurse. A team of medical personnel began working on the infant, clearing her mouth and dropping in an antidote to the Rapa Nui stasis potion. A faint cry was heard soon after.

"What of my wife, Randolf; how is Hermione?"

"She was unconscious when she arrived. Her vitals were weak and arrhythmic." Randolf jumped as an alarm sounded from a machine near Hermione's head.

"Sir, we're losing her!" A nurse tore the fabric from Hermione's chest as Randolf prepared an injection. He addressed Draco without turning.

"Mr. Malfoy, talk to your wife. I don't care about the topic, but keep talking until I tell you to stop. Make sure she knows how much you love her. Your voice may be her lifeline."

Draco took a deep breath. What should he say?

"Granger, Mira's out. You, um...you look awfully pale. Please, you need to stay with us."

"Her signs are decreasing again, sir."

Decreasing? Oh, HELL no.

"GRANGER! Woman, do you hear me? I said hang on! Hang on, damn you! You were always the stubbornest bitch I knew; don't lose that now. Are you listening? Don't tell me I went to all that trouble of winning you just to lose you like this. This is not a fitting end for a war hero. I remember how much you always hated that term. But it suited you. I always thought it was stupid how the papers referred to you as the brains of the Golden Trio, when you were every bit the warrior Scarhead and Weasel were. Hell, tougher in some ways. You'd better be paying attention. This is not the kind of thing I'll say twice.

Remember when I told you the first time I really noticed you was Sixth Year, after that DADA lesson? I lied. You got under my skin First Year, and there you stayed. You were smarter, kinder and a better witch than anyone I knew, and it irked the hell out of me. You started standing my principles on their heads long before I let on. Granted, your hair was an abomination, and those teeth! But there was always something about you that called to me. Malfoys always have the best and even at 11 years old, on some level I knew that's what you were. And when you were riled, you were the most amazing thing I'd ever seen.

You still are.

Gods, please. If you're demanding a soul out of this, take mine. It's never been worth as much as hers, but I offer it freely. Don't take my wife; I'm begging you.

Granger, come on. Your family needs you. Your friends need you. I need you- you promised once you'd stick around in case I ever forgot what love was."

Draco's shoulders drooped as his energy flagged, the weight of the situation driving him to his knees. Someone stood at his back then, lifting him up and placing a firm hand between his shoulder blades.

"Keep going, mate. Looks like she's improving; the staff is calming down."

He took another breath and made a note to thank Potter for the support when this was over. "Sorry about that, Granger. Had to stop for a moment. You better not have gone anywhere. I promised you at our wedding that I would love, honor, protect and annoy you to the end of our days. You vowed the same. And there is no way the end's come that soon. If you leave me, I'll hold séances just to irritate you long-distance. I mean it, woman. You are the most amazing thing ever to happen in my life, and the best choice I ever made. Please, darling. I love you more than anything. Granger, come on-"

A nurse near Hermione's head clapped a gloved hand over her mask. Tears filled her eyes as her laughter echoed around the delivery room and she shot a thumbs up to Randolf.

"She says that's Granger-Malfoy to you."

The room broke out in cheers as Draco turned to thank Potter, only to discover that the eyes he stared into were crystal blue, not green.

"You," he breathed.

"Looks like. Well done, Malferret."

"How did you know?"

"Didn't. I happened to be coming out of the loo when I heard you talking to 'Mione, then you weren't. Looked like you needed a hand." Ron scratched the back of his neck nervously. "Malfoy?"

"Hmm?"

"Well done. You- you fought for her just like Harry or I would've."

Draco pretended to consider the redhead's compliment. "Well...not exactly like you or Potter, as I have a larger vocabulary and my mouth wasn't full of food." He smirked gently as Ron gave him a light cuff to the head.

"And don't think this means I won't hex you at Christmas, Weasley."

"Why wait? 'Mione's birthday is in September. You want to head back to the waiting room and let everyone know?"

"Would you mind terribly? I'm going to wait here and hope that they let me see one of my females soon."

"Fair enough. Congratulations, Malfoy."

"Thank you, Weasley. For everything."

"Don't mention it." Ron turned and ambled down the hall to the waiting room, "OI! They're alright!"

The answering ruckus was loud enough that an exhausted Hermione heard them in recovery, and she smiled.