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Chapter 31
"Oh, look at this gorgeous bump!"
Lana's hands were either side of Hermione's belly, an expression of absolute adoration on her face. The bump in question was now at thirty weeks, and on Hermione's tiny frame, looked more enormous than perhaps it should. We'd had repeated questions from almost everyone we met asking when she was due, and the looks of surprise we received when they learned it wasn't any day now, made us laugh. She did indeed look ready to pop.
"You are positively glowing," Regina added. "Pregnancy looks good on you."
They were now aware of her story and had doted on her almost more than I had since we'd shared our news. They — along with their husbands — had teased me relentlessly, wondering how I'd been capable — in my declining years — of still having fuel in the tank. Hermione reminded them often just how much fuel I did indeed have. Underneath the teasing, however, they were incredibly supportive and I knew without a doubt this baby would be loved and adored as much as its mother was.
And much to my absolute pleasure, they'd welcomed her into our lifelong friendship group without hesitation. Regina and Lana were welcomed to Sunday brunch with the girls when they were able to join them, and Hermione delighted in the fact that Antonin and Corban were only too pleased to share my youthful indiscretions with her. We'd also added a monthly dinner with my friends to our routine, and much like with her friends, her pregnancy had become just as special to them.
"And," Lana began, smiling at my wife. "We have a surprise for you that will make you positively radiant."
"We're taking you out for lunch, then an afternoon at Corinthia, while these three—" Regina pointed at Corban, Antonin, and myself, "—do whatever it is that men do when their wives aren't around."
"No," Hermione breathed, her eyes wide, and I knew she was calculating the cost. Corinthia was one of London's most exclusive — and expensive — day spas.
"Yes," they answered in unison.
Hermione looked to me and I shook my head. "There's no point trying to refuse. They'll drag you out the door anyway."
"You will not refuse our gift, Hermione Granger," Lana told her. "This baby will be showered with gifts when it arrives, and I hate to say it, you won't be. So, we're taking you out to be spoiled rotten."
"Thank you. You really didn't have to…" Hermione pressed her hand to her chest and tears welled in her eyes. "Thank you."
"And, I can't believe you haven't already done this for her," Lana huffed haughtily at me. "Seriously, Lucius. You knock her up and then don't pamper her? What's wrong with you?"
"I pamper her," I objected.
"Being completely enamoured with her pregnant body and screwing her senseless isn't pampering her," Regina said, shoving her finger into my arm. "That's pampering yourself."
Hermione wiped her eyes and protested playfully. "I actually like him screwing me senseless."
Corban threw his arm around Hermione's shoulders and laughed. "I can't imagine anyone liking him doing that."
"I do," she said, grinning at me. "And he's definitely enamoured with my body. Pregnant or not."
"Perhaps we should cancel our day." Regina arched one eyebrow and glanced between us, a wicked smirk on her face. "Give you two some extra alone time before this baby arrives."
"We have plenty of time for me to be enamoured with her," I said, winking at Hermione. "And since my wife enjoyed her day out with me at Aire Baths at Christmas, I know for a fact she'll enjoy the same with you two."
"You took her to Aire Baths?" Regina asked incredulously before turning on Antonin. "While we're gone today, you should ask him how to make a booking."
Laughing at the eye roll my friend gave me, I clapped him on the shoulder. "It's rather easy, Dolohov. There's a new thing called the internet. I'll show you when the ladies leave."
"Arse," he muttered.
I crossed the living room and rescued my wife from Corbin's clutches. I held her face in my hands and, not caring that we had an audience, I kissed her.
"Enjoy your afternoon," I said, trying to calm her nerves at what she knew was about to be spent on her. "Let these two smother you with love and affection. And don't worry about anything else."
"I'll try my best," she answered with a small nod.
"I know you will," I assured her, rubbing my hands up and down her arms.
"I probably should change my clothes."
She was wearing a pair of stretchy leggings and a simple tank — her usual weekend attire. She looked adorable, especially since her tank showed off her belly.
"Keep it simple, darling," Regina told her. "We'll be in bathrobes all afternoon."
"What was that all about?" Corban asked when I returned from seeing our wives out.
"What was what all about?"
"Hermione," he clarified. "She appeared a little less enthused than usual."
"Your wives surprised her, that's all."
"Nice try," Antonin interjected. "That wasn't surprise. She didn't truly want to go."
Sighing, I poured three tumblers of scotch and handed them one each before sitting on the sofa. They sat opposite me, both watching me with expressions of curiosity.
"Hermione has a thing about money." I shrugged, "She lives a very simple life and isn't a frivolous spender. And she doesn't like to be thought of as a gold digger."
"We would never think—" Corban began but I waved his assurances off.
"I know that, and so does she. Well, now that she knows you all, she knows you don't think that of her. But, your opinions regarding her were definitely something she was concerned about before she first met you all. She was aware of some of my past with Narcissa, and didn't want any assumptions towards her intentions. She still doesn't."
"The only assumption I've made is that I assumed she was doing reasonably well," Antonin said carefully. "Her flat sold for a small fortune, did it not?"
"It did, but when she bought it, she used her inheritance from when her parents passed," I explained. "As far as I can tell, they had invested well, and left her with enough to live comfortably. She earns an excellent salary dancing, but she worries if she seriously injures herself she'll have to sell her properties in Spain and France to support herself."
"She has real estate abroad and she's worried about money?" Corban asked in a flippant manner I didn't like. We'd all been born into vast sums of money and hadn't ever had to be concerned with how we would pay our bills. Yes, we'd had a shitty share house in our late teens, but that had been little more than an rebellious experiment to infuriate our fathers.
Hermione's concerns were genuine. And while she was well situated financially, I wouldn't ever dismiss her feelings.
"Once again, she inherited them, and they're the last solid vestiges of her parents," I answered tightly. "And I will do everything I can to ensure she doesn't ever have to sell them unless she wants to."
"This is a very different situation you have going on," Corban said, sipping his scotch and grinning over the rim of the glass.
"How so?" I asked, my defences immediately going up.
"You now have a strong, talented, independent woman in your life, who really needs, or wants, nothing from you."
Antonin tipped his glass towards me. "As opposed to the spoiled shrew who was more in love with your money than she was with you."
My ire deflated. They'd tolerated my ex-wife for years, unable to believe I'd stayed with her as long as I had. They had shared their opinions occasionally — mostly when she was throwing one of her petty tantrums — but had never truly shown their utter hatred of her until she cheated.
Hermione, on the other hand, was adored by them. She was my light, but she was also theirs. They were comfortable with her, conversed easily, laughed and joked, and considered her family from the moment they met her.
"I take a certain amount of blame for my ex-wife's behaviour," I said, not for the first time in the last four years. "I spoiled her as much as her father did. But, my son was a direct result of that experience. And while any respect I might have had for her has now vanished, I'll never regret my son. Never."
"We know that." Corban stood to retrieve the bottle of scotch, refilling our glasses and placing the bottle on the coffee table. "And now, because of this tiny pocket-rocket, you've been given the chance to live your dream."
"Which dream is that?"
"Another child," he said. "You always wanted more."
A wave of guilt struck me. My son had always been my greatest achievement, and while he was beyond pleased for Hermione and me, I couldn't help feeling like I had somehow betrayed him. And apparently my face thought the same.
"You are happy about this baby… aren't you?" Antonin asked, sharing a frowned glance with our cohort.
"Of course I am!" I exclaimed quickly.
"Then what's with your face right now?"
"You look positively terrified," Corban added before I could deny anything my face might have revealed.
"I'm not terrified. Not about Hermione or the baby. I worry about Draco. I worry that he thinks he's never been enough."
"You know he's equally as pleased about this as everyone else is," Antonin pointed out. "And we've seen how he is with Hermione. He loves her as much as we do. He would definitely tell you if he had concerns. You raised your son well and he would speak his mind if he felt he needed to."
I nodded at my friends, but they couldn't ever understand what I was feeling. Antonin and Regina had three sons. Corban and Lana, a son and twin daughters. And when I looked back on our lives together, I knew I'd drawn the short straw. As the years passed, I was absolutely certain Narcissa had only gotten pregnant with our son to ensure her lifestyle wouldn't be affected. She certainly showed affection early in our relationship, but with Draco, she had a permanent grip on my family's fortune – at least she assumed she did – and more children were completely out of the question.
My son was never neglected – not by me – and my entire world had revolved around him. It still did. Hermione and our baby were now a part of that orbit, however his complete acceptance of them didn't ease the constant anxieties I had. Yes, he had his own family and his focus was on them, but mine had been too. Katie and Scorpius were as important to me as Draco was, so how would he feel when my focus shifted? It already had, to a certain degree. Hermione's world was now my world, and while she had also integrated into my life easily, a new baby would shift the dynamic exponentially.
"Is it really Draco you're concerned about?" Corban asked. "Or are you concerned that you're almost fifty-two and are about to become a father again?"
"I think it's everything," I said, holding my hand up to examine the band on my finger. "And I suppose I'm still fearful that Hermione will simply walk away."
"Christ on a cracker. Were you always this clueless? She's not going anywhere," Antonin said, startling me with the terseness in his tone. He leaned forward and pointed a finger at me. "Your problem is that you're still expecting the worst. You're expecting Narcissa. You're expecting the cheating and the nagging. And the tantrums. You're expecting Hermione to walk away because that's all you know."
"Hermione isn't your ex-wife," Corban pointed out, unnecessarily. They were polar opposites. "She's not having a baby with you because she wants your money, and she definitely has no interest in your name. She's with you because she loves you. I've no idea why, but she does. And that should be enough."
We'd made a pact in our teen years to never act stuffy and closed-off like our own fathers had been. They'd never been interested in us as children, and we always said our years at boarding school when we were away from them were some of the best of our lives. We'd not, however, had a conversation this in-depth for quite some time.
"Perhaps you're right," I agreed, absently twisting the ring on my finger.
"Perhaps?" They both held their hands up incredulously.
"Well, you're both morons most of the time." I sipped my drink and shrugged, "Perhaps this one time you're right."
"You know we are." Antonin leaned forward and grabbed the bottle of Scotch. "Hermione has improved your surly arse immeasurably. We actually like you now."
"Funny." I held my glass out for a refill, "We should probably get some food if we plan on continuing this. Three relaxed wives won't appreciate three drunk husbands."
Antonin held up his phone, smirking. "We can order food on that fancy interwebs thingy, right?"
"Only if your grandson taught you how," I quipped. "He's what? Four months old now?"
He showed me his middle finger then began swiping the screen on his phone. "Italian? Indian? Thai?"
"Spanish," I suggested. "There's a restaurant a few blocks away."
"We're not leaving," Antonin said, indicating his phone. "Contrary to your arrogant assumptions, I do know how to order in."
"Tapas aren't the same when they've been delivered." I pushed myself to my feet, "Get your lazy arses up."
Fresh air and some late spring sunshine was apparently what we all needed. We were seated outside and I felt much more relaxed… but that could also have been the Scotch.
"Why haven't we eaten here before now?" Corban asked, wolfing down more Gambas al Ajillo. "You know the rules, Lucius."
"The rules that state that we shouldn't embarrass our friends in public with poor manners and uncouth behaviour?" I nodded at the nearly-empty plate in front of him.
"Yes," he answered, stabbing another shrimp with a fork and poking it in my direction. "Those exact rules."
I grinned, enjoying the fact my two friends were loving this restaurant. It boded well for future dinners.
"Seriously though, how do we not know about this place? And why haven't you told us?"
"You're too busy trying to impress my wife with fancy restaurants when we all eat out. She prefers smaller places. Simple places. This is one of her favourites."
I smiled at the thought of her just last week deciding what she could and couldn't eat. She'd gone so far as to introduce herself to the chef — making yet another person fall instantly in love with her — and managed to arrange a special pregnancy feast for herself.
"She definitely has your balls in her palm," Corban said.
"And I rather enjoy when she does."
"And you rather enjoy the whole pregnancy thing, don't you?"
I stared down at my plate, fighting the grin that would give me away.
"He definitely does," Antonin said smugly, clinking his glass against Corban's. "We're not so old that we don't remember pregnant sex."
"We are not having that conversation. And we're definitely not having it here," I told him. "I don't need you thinking those things about her."
"Oh, come on, Lucius!" Corban laughed. "Do you really think Hermione doesn't share what the two of you get up to with her friends? With our wives? Hermione even stated earlier that she likes you to screw her senseless."
"Let me educate you on something," Antonin added, his face a picture of condescending seriousness. "Women share. Women share everything. I just hope your performances aren't lacking."
"I've had no complaints to date," I answered without thinking.
Corban's hand slapped the arm of the chair and he laughed. "You lucky son of a bitch. You shouldn't be enjoying yourself this much at your age. You'll most likely die of a heart attack."
"It's good that you're jealous," I said, puffing my chest out. "But please imagine one of your favourite porn stars, not my wife, next time you're wanking."
My phone chimed and I was laughing when I pulled it from my pocket, expecting to see a photo of the three women in robes. My laugh died in my throat. Instead of a photo, it was a text. From Regina. One that concerned me instantly.
We're on our way home.
Please be there when we arrive.
I frowned at the screen. They'd only been gone for three hours. I calculated the time it would have taken for them to have lunch, and it left very little time for pampering.
I tried not to panic, sending back a simple:
Is everything alright?
"Put that away," Antonin growled. "You're a grown man, not an insolent teenager."
Ignoring him, I watched as three dots appeared in the message bubble. Hours seemed to pass as I gripped my phone tightly, staring intently, waiting impatiently.
Something happened.
Too much to text.
Just be at home.
Another bubble appeared seconds later. Regina had anticipated my thoughts.
She's okay.
"Shit," I cursed, turning my phone for them both to see. Under any other circumstance, I would have laughed at them both having to squint to read the message, calling them out for being old, but my insides were churning.
Something happened.
Something happened.
Something happened.
The words were like a bright, flashing beacon. A loud Klaxon inside my head, drowning out everything but my thoughts of her being hurt. She's okay didn't even register with me. All I saw was was the negative.
Something happened.
Something happened.
Something happened.
I felt the panic constrict my chest. I gripped the edge of the table; I couldn't breathe and I was sure the ground was about to crumble beneath me.
Something happened.
Something happened.
Something happened.
A hand gripping my shoulder startled me. Glancing up, I could see the concern that was causing my heart to race reflected in Corban's face.
"Come on," he said, pulling me to my feet.
Unthinking, I reached for my wallet, flinching when he shoved at my hand.
"We've sorted it." He nodded towards Antonin, who was walking towards us from inside the restaurant. I hadn't even noticed him leave the table. "We need to get home before they do."