Draco watched with a frown as Hermione struggled with a gigantic pile of scrolls. Where she was trying to bring those, he had no idea.
"Those sodding, bloody …" Draco cut her by waving his wand and shrinking the scrolls.
"Oh. Right." He shook his head:
"How many times do I have to tell you that you are a witch?"
"And how many times do I have to tell you to quit putting your dirty robes on the coat hanger?" She countered.
"You spend way too much time with your mother."
"You spend way too much time with Blaise."
"At least he's not a bossy little thing."
"At least my mother is not an alcoholic troll." He chuckled. Damn he'd lost.
"I won. Now would you help me review these? It's for the wand shop you blasted last week. I need to ward it back." He nodded and followed her to the study. She sat at their double desk, they'd found with time that they always ended up working together. It was much more fun to bicker than to ignore the other all evening.
She wanded the scrolls back to their original size and started working right away. As he followed, Draco found himself smiling. She'd forgotten her notebook. He couldn't see it around. She'd snap soon and he couldn't repress his smirk.
"What?" She asked.
"Nothing."
"Don't lie."
"You'll find out soon. You were saying?" She eyed him suspiciously but got back to work eventually. He counted the seconds. And she exploded exactly when he reached zero.
"Oh for Godric's sake I forgot my notebook at the office!" His smirk only grew. "You'd seen."
"Of course I did. You always forget it when you come back with a new case."
"Err … you could have told me you prat."
"But it's more fun to watch you snap."
"Oh really? You enjoy watching me snap?"
"Very much." She grabbed her wand.
"You might as well run then 'cause I'm about to."
"You wouldn't dare put my lovely face on fire."
"Err … you spend way too much time with the troll." He chuckled.
"Don't change the subject you Hufflepuff. You don't have what it takes to keep your word." A single spark sprout out of her wand.
"Wanna try me?" She asked. Damn he loved that woman.
"Fuck yes." They both ran to the basement. She banged the door open to their personal training room and she turned around, ready to fight. She ducked his first spell easily but her shield was weak as he attacked again. She surprised him as always by attacking only after a few defensive spells, just when he thought he'd gotten the upper hand. When would he learn?
"By Salazar you guys are the weirdest couple I've ever seen." Blaise. As much as he loved the git, he was always there poking his big fat nose when he wasn't invited.
"What are you doing here?" Draco asked exasperatedly.
"You invited us for dinner."
"Oh. Damn I forgot." Hermione said, her face apologetic. Draco had forgotten too but he wasn't about to apologise. The last time he'd been invited to Blaise's, he'd found him snogging an almost naked Blondie on the dining room table.
"I can see that. Let's go to the Burrow. Molly knew you'd forget and she's asked me to fetch you."
Thank Salazar for Molly Weasley. Err … When had that happened? Draco followed, berating himself for actually granting Hermione's predictions: "Someday you'll enjoy going there. You'll see." He decided to pout all evening. Right, he'd just look indifferent and maybe anger redface.
As he sat down in his usual spot at the unsteady table, in the crappiest house he'd ever been in, with the largest amount of Gryffindors he'd ever been with, Draco finally understood what Hermione had meant when she'd said the Burrow was a happy place. He couldn't deny it, although only to himself.
Arthur was already extolling around about some muggle appliance Draco had never heard of, all the while watching his back in case his wife came out of the kitchen. The only one listening to him was the cork necklace wearing loony bint. Thomas and Brown were mocking Blaise, who grabbed the blonde wolf's arse in retaliation. She giggled in a Lav-Lav way Hermione didn't miss to comment about. The weasel and the twin brother, George now he knew his name, were debating over the Chudley Canon's being the worst or the best team ever. It was the worst of course. Longbottom was quietly speaking with the tight arsed goggled Weasley, Percy? Right, and he didn't look pleased with him. Potter and his wife were cooing their baby scarface, though the thing didn't have a scar. And Hermione was … watching him with a small smile.
"What?"
"I love you." She kissed him quickly.
"What was that for?"
"You look happy."
"I am." This time he kissed her.
Narcissa Malfoy swallowed discreetly. How much more of this could she take? Surely not much. Her hair spiked at the back of her neck and soon she'd have to leave the room or she'd loose her temper. She'd come to terms with the fact that his son loved the Granger girl. She wasn't pleased, it was the least to say, but she'd decided against fighting with him. Her son was all she had left, and if that girl, who had decided to go back to her nesty hair, made him happy, then so be it.
But, after two years of watching them bicker playfully, and act like silly love birds most of the time, two years of seeing them only once a month because they killed themselves at work, his son had asked her to marry him.
Alright, you'd say, it was the natural course of events. However, when her son had come, saying that the wedding would be pronounced by the prime minister, in the ministry of magic, that the party would be host in Grimmaud place – neutral territory – that her muggles parents would be there, as well as Andromeda, the whole Weasley clan – Molly! - that Longbottom was one of his best men, that if she wanted to participate in organising the wedding she'd have to do so with Molly Weasley, her long lost sister Andromeda Tonks, and the girl's muggle mother Jean Granger, Narcissa felt like loosing it. She was about to snap. Which hadn't happened since she'd given birth.
"Mother?"
"Narcissa? I know this is a lot to take in. But I … I wanted to ask you something that I hope will make all this better." Narcissa watched the girl coolly. She was nothing but pleasant and polite, and even if her heritage wasn't the best of all, the worst in other words, she wasn't responsible for the old rivalries that might awake at her wedding.
"I am all ears."
"I … if you agree of course, I'd like you to choose the dresses and robes for the wedding."
"Why are you using the plural?"
"Because there's going to me my dress but also my maids of honors' and there's Draco's robe and his best men's too."
"You would like me to choose them?"
"Yes. Who has better taste than you? And … I thought you'd enjoy it more than to organise the tables or …. Oh! You could also arrange the flowers if you'd like! Molly isn't really too …"
"I could."
"Really? You'd take care of the clothes and flowers?"
"Yes."
"Thank you!" The girl looked so pleased, Narcissa had trouble understanding. Well, seeing her taste in clothes it wasn't so surprising after all.
Hermione did the spell on herself again. A blue spark. It was impossible. She did it a fourth time. A blue spark.
"Mione? I know your hair is uncontrollable but I'd actually like to use the bathroom! Empty the Sleekeazy's already!"
Hermione didn't even answer Draco. She put her wand back in her sleeve and opened the door. He was smirking.
"There was ten bottles left and that's what you look like? We better shave your head."
"I'm pregnant." His smirk vanished. He looked shocked.
"What?"
"I'm pregnant." She waited for him to move but he didn't, for several minutes. She was in the same state, until he finally managed in a whisper:
"You're pregnant."
"Perspicacious."
"You're pregnant."
"I am."
"Oh shit." He said. Then he watched her with wide eyes. "We're going to have to buy a whole room of Sleekeazy's if it has your hair."
"I'm going to have to ward this place against everything if he's as sneaky as you."
"We're doomed."
"Definitely."
- I found an extendable ear in your son's pocket. You better tell the ginger twin that if I see him, I might break his nose.
- My son? He's way too blond not to be yours. And George didn't give him the ear. Ron did. Yell at him, his office is next to yours.
- Yes well he's your son when he's not behaving. He swore, and I quote: "You're no bloody fun dad." He's grounded by the way.
- Like prying is one of my assets. I can give you the swearing but not that. He's definitely going to be a sneaky Slytherin.
- Better off than a Gryffindor. Imagine my mother's face if he was all gold and red. She'd hang herself.
- Maybe I should teach him a few things about bravery then.
- Don't you dare corrupt my son.
- Oh so now he's your son? Make him dinner tonight then, I'll be late.
- Alright but you're wearing the green nightgown to bed then.
- Only if you make his lunch for tomorrow too.
- Consider it done.
"Harry!" Hermione jumped in his arms.
"Ouch Mione!" The crashing hug he received warmed his heart, especially when Ginny wouldn't be around after these weeks of intervention, she had a game in New-Zealand. But it also hurt his every bone. "Please, Hermione, you're hurting me."
"Oh!" She let go of him. "How are you? What was broken? You have a new scar there!"
"It's all right Luna took care of it I'm just a little sore. How is Draco? He was unconscious when I brought him in."
"He's perfectly fine. Though he might need a few days to recover from the concussion. Don't worry he's insulted Ron already so …"
"Good. Good. I … err … I need to see him." Hermione frowned questioningly, but Harry decided not to elaborate. She didn't move of course, he would have to tell her.
"He saved my arse. A year without intervention an I'm all rusty, as he said. I should thank him."
She smiled and led him to the ferret's room. She left them alone in there. The tall blond pestered as soon as Harry entered:
"You got me a concussion Potter! I can't believe you're the head Auror!"
"Thank you Malfoy." His eyes grew so wide they could pop out of their socket.
"Err … welcome."
"As for the concussion you deserved it. That nasty son of yours has corrupted Albus. Minerva owled me this morning. Guess why?"
"Salazar's beard what did they do this time?"
"Well, Scorpius, Albus and Maria, have decided that it would be fun to study a miniature version of fiendfyre. Of course, your Ravenclaw head of a son was the one to find a way to shoot it. Albus, as a good good Slytherin spending his holidays with you, found that Filch's office would be the best place to cast it. Maria did the job though."
"So, you're telling me, that my son was smart enough to create a smaller version of fiendfyre? And that your son had a very bad idea, and that Blaise's girl, whom your son is infatuated with, did the bad thing?" Of course, said like that, Scorpius didn't look so guilty.
"Err … yes."
"Potter? Get out."
"Alright." Except Hermione came back in just before he could.
"I AM GOING TO KILL THAT BLOODY TROLL! Two months of detention! The three of them! Two months and a warning! It's even worse than when WE were in Hogwarts!"
"Calm down Mione. Minerva won't …"
"DON'T tell me to calm down Harry! Filch's office? THAT is definitely your son! Thank Merlin they're younger than James! Imagine what they would have done to the school with James? They could have killed POEPLE FOR GODRIC'S SAKE!"
"Hermione?" Harry had stopped talking and watched as the ferret was certainly going to lose a limb.
"WHAT?"
"Scorpius created a curse today."
"A curse! Something that can kill people!"
"I don't think so, Potter? Did Minerva say how big it was?"
"Err … the size of a pinky finger." Malfoy watched Hermione with the start of a smirk. Harry couldn't believe he could make her deflate like that. He'd never been able to and had always had to suffer her yelling crisis.
"Oh my … He's only in second year!"
"Yes, our son is brilliant."
"Shit."
Harry left the room as they apparently forgot about his presence and started snogging on the hospital bed.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading.