A baby pram. Draco got her and Alex a pram.
"Draco!" She threw her arms around his neck and brutally smashed her lips against his unexpected ones. She climbed up his body and wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. And had he always been without a shirt? Mmmm! His skin was nice. Certainly, motherhood had not morphed her into a complete asexual being or completely immune to the attractive man who gave her a baby. How had she not noticed his lack of attire?
Her lips traveled to his cheek, chin, throat and the slope of his neck where she nibbled at the skin and breathed in his scent, thinking he smelt of bitter cold pine nuts and heady, spicy soap. She pulled away to grimace at him, their noses brushing. "You smell odd."
His eyes narrowed in offense and curled his lips. "You don't smell like a bed of roses, either."
"I just don't like your soap. Or is cologne? And I smell fine, thank you very much."
"Blaise gave me cologne for Christmas. He said it attracts females by the hundreds. When I get back to England, I'm going to call out his lie. Besides, you smell like baby vomit."
"Yet you still want to shag me," Hermione haughtily replied, the pram catching her eye again, and she melted into his body once more and pecked him on the lips, poking the tip of her tongue at his bottom lip to tell him she could be persuaded for a post-midnight shag-fest if he was still interested in having a go.
"Minx." He travelled his hands from the middle of her back where he was holding her, and then to her bum. He squeezed her with a very unattractive grunt and leered at her. "I love your arse."
Tempted to toss back a reproving retort, Hermione denied her verbal-sparring instincts and allowed her mating instincts overrule her mind and body. So she gifted him a small, shy smile and combed her fingers through his hair.
"Naughty witch, don't you dare give me that innocent face. I know better," Draco purred and slowly walked towards the sofa and carefully sat down with Hermione straddling him.
Situating more comfortably on his lap, rubbing up against him and enjoying his scathing, tortured looks at her, her combing fingers skimmed to the nape of his neck and lightly scraped her nails over his hairline. Oh yes, two days with him eleven months earlier, and she knew where all of his weak spots were. His smirk turned gooey, and his eyes projected promise of retribution.
"I love your baby," she said and watched in excited fascination as his gaze turned cloudy and his tongue poked out to wet his lips. His hands left her bum and came around her front, and she thought he was going to cup her through her shirt but instead rested his fingers on the split material below her collar. He rubbed the soft, fuzzy material between his forefingers and thumbs before bunching it and pulling it in opposite directions.
Hermione jolted and flinched at the clangorous rip and the flying buttons zooming at her retinas, and then glared at Draco.
"Excuse me!" she hissed at the stupid man who cost her warm, semi-pricey shirt. Said stupid man was not even looking at her face but at what he exposed. "How dare you rip my shirt? I am broke, mind you, and this was my only pair of warm pajamas! What do you have to say for yourself?!"
Still not sparing her face a glance, he said to her chest, "I'm a bit peckish."
His response was unexpected and sent Hermione's heart into her tummy and an embarrassed flush to her skin. She nibbled on her bottom lip and cast her vision towards the kitchen where there was only a few boxes of Muggle macaroni and cheese, one or two packets of Top Ramen, a nearly scraped clean jar of peanut butter, and baby formula. She had unplugged the refrigerator days ago because there was nothing in it, and she could not afford to put anything in it, so she saved the electricity for someone else. However, she had planned to purchase some milk Christmas Eve morning at the market down the street, but on her way there, a frail and elderly man adorned in patchy rags was begging anyone who came across his path for a spare plinket, tinner, or dockel. He had looked cold, and she had wondered why he had not casted a Warming Charm upon himself but quickly figured out why when the man who was being begged from pushed the beggar to the snowy ground and called him a despicable squib. As careful as she could with Alex in the baby-sling, she jogged towards the beggar and cast a Warming Charm on him. She then extended her hand with what she hoped was a trusting smile. He smiled sadly at her but took her hand anyway. Quickly, she replaced her hand with a sickle and two dockels, and asked if he was alright, if the fall had injured him in anyway. His grim smile turned into a beam of gratitude, and a tear escaped down his whiskery cheek and rasped out a 'thank you
But the point was Draco would disprove of her lack of food in the kitchen. He was probably used to grand and extravagant Christmas meals consisting of a gargantuan, juicy roasted goose and potatoes with Yorkshire pudding and with melt-in-the mouth fresh, hot bread. He would be utterly unimpressed with her 'just add water' noodle cups.
"Oh. Umm….Well, if you want to wait until the morning, we can go out for breakfast. I-I hear that Madam Putman makes delicious English breakfasts. She's just around the corner." Of course, the meal would be entirely dependent on him because Madam Putman charged an arm and a leg and sometimes a first-born for a dish at her establishment.
"I'm hungry now."
"Oh," Hermione softly whispered and wondered if Draco was up to taking a trip to Muggle Salem because nowhere in the Magical was open yet because of the hols. She also wondered how Draco would feel about dining in a Denny's.
"I don't really have anything you'd like," Hermione admitted and was purposefully vague.
"I doubt that," he murmured and Hermione shrieked when he pressed his hands forcefully into her upper back and bent her backwards in his lap. He latched onto her throat and scraped his teeth across her skin and downwards, his famished mouth in search for something. It dawned on Hermione that he was hungry for fleshy sex and not food. When his mouth latched onto something else and stayed there, she realized she was half-right and half-wrong.
A mix between being horror-struck and arousal swirled throughout her as she stuttered out, "P-Pervert."
Hermione stirred awake at the feeling of something wet and sort of sharp feasting on her neck. She sucked in a breath and yawned and moaned in irritation from being woken up. Her eyes focused and saw her tiny Christmas tree a few feet away with the unopened presents placed underneath. A few inches from her head was the baby pram. Sleepily, she smiled at it. A few weeks ago, she had gone shopping for one and was displeased to find the prices were atrocious— for a good one, that is. There were some cheap ones, but Hermione was not going to fork out any amount of currency for something lasting merely a week.
Oh, she couldn't wait to put Scorpius in it and go for a stroll around the town! She'd bundle him up and get the bottles ready because he needed at least four. And maybe Draco would want to come and...
She hurriedly rolled over and connected her lips to his in one vast motion, and she felt him grin against her mouth. He snaked his arm around her shoulders, and she did the same around his neck.
A little while later…
"Merlin, why did I ever let you leave?" Draco muffled into her shoulder and then planted a smooch. He propped his head up with his hand and leered at Hermione causing her to feel a tad shy lying naked in post-coital glory on the living room floor. "I should have kept you, Granger. I should have locked you up in my room, tied you to the bed, and kept you for my own pleasure. I should have never returned you to Potter. I shouldn't have let you leave. What can I do to persuade you to come home with me?"
"Nothing," she whispered as Draco toyed with one of her many curls sticking stubbornly out from her scalp.
"I don't like having you and Scorpius far away."
"Let's not talk about this now." Hermione rose into a sitting position and stretched her arms above her head, pops and cracks snapping from her sleep incrusted limbs. She glanced at the clock on the wall and knew Alex would be up in a few minutes demanding to be nursed. "I need to get ready for the day. I want to take the baby on a jaunt in his new pram. It's perfect. Thank you so much."
"There are other presents, love." Draco chuckled and gestured to the rapped boxes.
"I'm sure Alex will love them."
"They're not just for him. I got some for you."
"I don't need anything," Hermione lied. She'd take the pram because that was all her pride would accept.
"Oh, so you don't want this?" Draco reached over to the pile and retrieved a gift, and her eyes narrowed. It was a book, she knew it. She'd sense a novel, tomb, and or manuscript if it was buried deep within the earth below her.
"What kind of book is it?" The words spilled out of her mouth, and Draco cocked an impressed eyebrow at her assumption.
"You'll like it. I know that," he said with a complacent grin and teased her by waving the present in front of her. "The thing is, Granger, you open it, it's yours. You can't give it back." Beat. "Not that you will.'
Hermione licked her lips and studied the wrapped book with intensity, willing her mind to try and see past the barrier. Unfortunately, she failed but anticipation bubbled up within her. She really, really wanted to see what book it was. Maybe it was a parenting book—a guide for new parents on what to expect after birth. She had read a few in the library a few blocks away, but she yearned for one of her own.
Her fingers itched to steal the present from Draco's paws as he playfully zoomed the package like an aeroplane close to her face. She wringed her hands and pressed her lips together painfully.
"Hmm. Your tenacity is appraisable. You have more self-control than you did in school. Perhaps I should open it for you. I do believe once you've seen what I have bestowed you, you will not let me leave back to England with it."
"It can't be that spectacular," Hermione argued, more to herself than him.
"But it can be," he sang teasingly and poked a hole into the wrapping paper. She snatched it from him with a growl and tore it open, her eyes zeroing in on the title, fingers tightening around the book with each read word.
"Do you like it?" he asked.
Hermione licked her lips hungrily at the book cover and gently placed Hogwarts, A History: First Edition on the floor to rest on the discarded wrappings before lunging at Draco and knocking them both to the floor, peppering kisses all over his arrogant face.
A sob echoed down the hall, and Hermione jumped up to her feet and ran towards the sound, leaving Draco back in the living room with a spectacular view of her naked rump. She returned with Alex in her arms, and he was clutching at his breakfast source with greedy hands and mouth. Lowering to the carpet, she rested her back against the sofa facing the presents and sat next to Draco who was leaning his head back against the seat cushion with a content smile on his face.
"What are you smiling at?" she asked.
"This is nice. You. Me. Shagged senseless and unashamedly naked with a grunting babe in the living room. A perfect Boxing Day morning." And then his belly growled and laughed. "Well, almost. Definitely could use a spot of breakfast. We could open up the blinds for all of Magical Salem to see us in our starkers whilst having some eggs and sausage."
Hermione cringed at him for three reasons. One, his double entendre. Two, she had no food that would accommodate. Three, she really wanted some eggs and sausage, too. Great Morgana, what she wouldn't do for a slice of bacon and a glass of chocolate milk.
"What do you have in the pantry?" he asked and then frowned. "You're a girl, right? You can cook."
Hermione shot daggers at him and stuck out her chin. "Spot on, Malfoy. I am a girl. I had no idea you had doubts considering what happened only minutes ago in front of the Christmas tree. As for cooking…I do what I can…if I have…things."
"Things? Like food? Or simply certain kinds of food?"
"Yes."
"…Granger?"
"Hmm?"
"You have food in the kitchen, yes? I hope to think your new figure is because of the aerobics classes I paid for, not because you can't afford to eat, which you can because I gave you money before I left." His voice had turned sharp at the last of his words, and the mood changed considerably in the room. Gone was the lusty, playful family fest. It was replaced by a building storm circling over Draco's head.
"Don't be ridiculous. I eat," she snorted out. "I have to. I'm breastfeeding."
Draco slit his eyes at her like he was trying to detect a lie in her voice or behavior. He was very careful with his next questions. "How often do you eat? And what are you eating?"
"Draco…" Hermione said with a forced smile. "I'm fine. The baby's fine."
Draco ignored her and stood up, walking over to the kitchen. Hermione scrambled after him, clutching the baby tight as to not greatly disturb him. Alex hated being bounced about. He whimpered into her bosom, so she stopped to adjust him and gently walked into the kitchen after Draco who was scowling in her near empty cupboards.
"You have no food," he stated icily and slammed the cupboard shut, and Alex unlatched his mouth from her breast and let out a high-pitched shriek. She maneuvered him in an upright position with his head resting against her shoulder, making sure he had his fist in close range to his mouth for comfort all the while glaring at Malfoy.
"That was unnecessary!" she hissed. "You don't need to lose your temper."
Ignoring her, Malfoy stomped over to the fridge and flung open the door and then closed it with a bang, the box rocking with vibrations and the loud sound causing Alex's wails to increase in volume.
"You have no food!" Draco repeated, only harsher.
"I have food, Malfoy! Now stop acting like a child! You're upsetting the baby. He doesn't like loud noises and will probably be fussy all day and not eat."
"He can be like his mother then." He charged back over to the cupboards and yanked them open and picked up a box of macaroni and cheese. "You call this food."
"If you add the right ingredients, it tastes fine," Hermione countered.
"And do you have those? Where?" Not waiting for answer, he chucked the box across the kitchen and against the wall, the cardboard splitting at the side and spilling noodles everywhere.
Alex sobbed into his fist, and Hermione deeply considered telling Malfoy to leave. His temper was scaring their son, and she did not want him to be in a snit all day. Alex was so sensitive with his own comfort and did not like to be disturbed while eating, napping, soiling his diaper, and staring at nothing in particular. Because he was only six weeks old, Hermione was going to do everything she could to make sure he was a content and happy baby. That was her comfort, and Draco was putting a damper in it, too.
"I know you just woke up, Button, but I'm going to lay you down anyway, mkay?" Hermione softly said to Alex and left Malfoy alone with his tantrum to keep him company for a bit. She walked down the hallway and into her bedroom, laying the baby down in his bassinet and securing him in the Charmed blanket and popping his beloved binky in his mouth.
"You're such a sweet boy. Mummy loves you so much. I just have to go and hurt Daddy a little bit because he's acting like a git." Smooch!
Before returning to the kitchen, Hermione slipped on one of the silk robes that Draco got her six weeks prior, the light blue one instead of the green. She didn't want him to think he was going to get another shag out of her.
"If you think you're going to get another shag out of me, Granger, you should have worn the green one," Draco spat while he rested a palm on the useless refrigerator when she reentered the kitchen
"I'm good actually." Hermione shrugged, keeping her voice calm and cool while shuffling over to a corner cupboard. From where she stood, it looked empty but she stuck her hand in and waved it about, her fingers colliding with some paper pouches. She showed Draco it and offered, "Would you like some hot apple cider? All is needed is a bit of hot water."