65.

"– So I'm due at the beginning of October," Hermione finished finally, having been designated the official sharer of news today, once they'd finished their pastries, their drinks half-drunk. She fell silent then and eyed the children nervously, with Malfoy's hand on her thigh and three pairs of eyes staring across the Muggle cafe table at her. This was Hugo and Rose's day back from Ron and Chastity's, and Scorpius's first day back two days at the Malfoy Manor with his grandparents, after spending five days in Spain with his mother. They'd taken the children straight out for the day, wanting to explain the situation to them before they saw their new rooms and asked questions.

So here they were, at a cafe in Muggle London, Hermione having just explained the situation simply and delicately, or so she hoped.

As she had somewhat expected would be the case, Rose was the first to react. "That's so disgusting," she said, freckled nose wrinkling, as she tossed her mane of curly hair back over her shoulder, her bright eyes scrunching up. "First Dad and Chastity, and now you and Draco? You adults are having far too much irresponsible sex."

"Oh good God, Rose," Hermione censured, cheeks blazing red, covering her face with a hand. "We are not –"

"Ew, Rose! Don't say that!" Hugo protested loudly over the top of Hermione, and then proceeded to make a series of gagging, retching noises, making quite the show of himself.

"Hugo, stop it – people are looking!" Hermione hissed at her son, and he stopped but shot his mother a betrayed look.

"This is so embarrassing, Mum," he said, only marginally quieter. People were still looking, and Hermione wanted to sink into the floor. They should've told the children at home, but no – Hermione had thought it would be a good idea to do it while on a day out in Muggle London, so they could distract them afterwards. Why on earth had Malfoy agreed to that? "What am I supposed to tell the kids at school?" Hugo went on plaintively.

"That our parents are incapable of keeping it in their pants, apparently," Rose retorted and made another face, and Hermione felt a surge of appreciation and love toward Scorpius, who still sat quietly, like he was processing it. And she felt a surge of irritation toward her two unruly monsters. "They're too busy –"

"Rose! That's enough!" Tears of frustration and humiliation sprang to Hermione's eyes as she noticed the other people still looking in their direction, obviously amused by the situation, and she blinked them back, irritated by how emotional she got these days. Or rather, by how easily she cried – she didn't feel any more emotional than usual, she just leaked like a sieve. "Please!"

"But –"

Malfoy cleared his throat meaningfully but somehow dangerously, and suddenly everyone fell silent. "Be respectful of your mother," he said with an air of command, and Rose and Hugo both looked at him with wide eyes. Hermione stared at him too, wholly taken aback. He'd never spoken like that before to the children – civil but reproachful, with a hard edge, his features set in an unreadable neutrality. "Whether you like it or not, she is having a baby, and stress is not good during pregnancy. So please keep your protests, such as they are, quiet and civil. And incidentally, you are not to tell anyone at school yet – not until your mother tells you that you can. We haven't told anyone except your Grandfather Richard –" this to Rose and Hugo "– and the three of you now. So no telling anyone, understood?"

There was a series of nods, and then a long stretch of silence from the chastised children, Rose looking down at her lap, Hugo hiding his face behind his hot chocolate, and Scorpius still just thoughtful and nervous looking. He'd stayed out of the complaints, and so his father's chiding had clearly bothered him less. Malfoy grimaced, uncomfortable. "Have I frightened you all into silence?" he asked lightly and Hermione gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, smiling at him gratefully as he looked down at her.

"Hopefully," she said, diffusing the tension. "But I don't think we'll be that lucky."

"It's just embarrassing, Mum," Rose said after a moment, carefully, her eyes flicking to Malfoy, who smiled encouragingly. "Or it will be when everyone finds out. I mean, you're so old, and –"

"Old? Merlin, Rose, I'm only forty!" she protested, as Malfoy laughed like it had been surprised out of him, which made Rose relax a little, Hermione noticed. She was rather glad to discover they took such notice of Malfoy, though. They never listened to her or Ron – Malfoy might make an excellent weapon of last resort.

"Well, you know what I mean," Rose said, flushing, idly picking up eclair crumbs by pressing on them with a dampened finger. "Everyone thought it was so funny that Dad was having a baby with Chastity, when they found out. We got teased for weeks."

"By who?" Hermione frowned

"Victoire, Fred, James, Roxanne, and –"

Hermione laughed wearily, her concern dissipating. "So, your cousins?"

"Well, yes, but –"

"I'll talk to their parents, but honestly, Rose, a bit of ribbing from your cousins is not the end of the world." The Weasley offspring were notorious for teasing, most of it good-natured, and Hermione's two engaged in it just as much as the others.

"Anyway, it's probably because Chastity's, um, not that old," Scorpius piped up. "They might not make such a big deal of it, with our parents."

"Mm, because we're both so old?" Malfoy asked, expression full of barely suppressed amusement. Scorpius grinned at his father.

"You said it, not me," he said, and then his smile vanished. "Will this baby be okay?" he asked uncertainly, and Hermione realised then that of course he knew about his stillborn siblings. Oh no. No wonder he'd been so quiet up until now.

"Oh," Rose said, glancing at Scorpius and taking his hand under the table, the two of them suddenly clinging together, in an odd echo of the way Hermione suddenly found her hand engulfed in Malfoy's. "Oh Scorp, I didn't think of that." Her eyes flew to her mother's face as Malfoy's amusement fell away. And suddenly Rose's protests and whinging were gone without a trace, replaced by worry. "Will the baby be okay? It will, won't it, Mum?"

"Why wouldn't it be okay?" Hugo asked shrilly, frowning over at the other two, a confused fear burgeoning on his face. "What's going on?"

Oh shit, Hermione thought, feeling suddenly exhausted. She looked at Malfoy pleadingly. She couldn't explain this properly, and she shouldn't be the one to do it anyway. He looked greyish and just as weary as she felt, grief darkening his eyes, but he nodded grimly, and took over. It took a good fifteen minutes to explain the situation to Hugo – and clarify some things for Rose and Scorpius, who didn't quite understand the details, Scorpius having pieced things together from what he'd overheard as a child, and the simplified facts his father had given him, and then not having relayed that to Rose quite accurately.

Malfoy's voice wavered a couple of times, and he swiped the heel of his hand over his eyes once or twice – Hugo staring big-eyed, and Rose looking away as if to give him privacy, while Scorpius looked down at the crumbs of his croissant. But he managed it, gripping Hermione's hand so tightly under the table that her fingers felt a little squashed. The children seemed both sombre and reassured afterwards, as Malfoy tried to finish on a bright note. "– Muggle medicine is very different to wizarding healing, and when it comes to pregnancy, it seems like the Muggles have a superior grasp of things," he said, while Hermione listened, always amused to hear Malfoy extolling the virtues of Muggle technology over magic. Her mind wandered as he began to explain the developmental ultrasound that would happen at twenty weeks to the three children, well-informed on all the details now himself – sometimes it seemed like he'd read everything the internet had to offer on pregnancy, and he'd certainly quizzed the obstetrician thoroughly.

Talk of Muggle things made her wonder how Malfoy's parents would take the news, when he and Hermione finally announced the pregnancy to them. She still hadn't met Lucius and Narcissa yet, and before she'd discovered she was pregnant, she hadn't really been planning on it unless they got married – something neither of them had actually talked about, even now. But now that she was having a Granger-Malfoy baby, Hermione knew she'd have to meet them. Perhaps for an afternoon tea, probably at the Manor. She ran through scenarios in her head, wondering how it would go.

Narcissa seemed nearly reasonable if very set in her ways, but Lucius would be a harder nut to crack. He'd turned on Voldemort in the end, but only because it had benefited his family – not because his beliefs had changed. There was a reason Malfoy avoided his parents outside of parties and special occasions where his attendance was nearly mandatory, as the Malfoy heir. They were old-fashioned blood purists, whether Death Eaters or not; they believed in tradition, and doing one's duty, and they would not be impressed by Malfoy impregnating a Muggle-born. She was unsure whether her being Hermione Granger would be a point in her favour or against her – on the one hand, she was well-regarded amongst wizarding society overall, which gave her a certain cachet, but on the other hand they might think of her as the bushy-haired, obnoxious little friend of Harry Potter's, and dislike her on principle.

Hermione supposed she might have to broach the subject with Malfoy – they hadn't really talked about that yet either. Malfoy was so taut with worry over the pregnancy that they'd been living in a secretive bubble in terms of who they told. Only Hermione's father and the children knew, now. But they couldn't just turn up at Malfoy Manor one day, and present Malfoy's parents with a baby. She smiled, imagining that. Besides, eventually she'd start showing and the press would figure it out, and then Malfoy's parents would fire-call him, furious to not have been told. Then there was a tap on the back of her hand.

"Oh, sorry, what?" She looked up into Malfoy's eyes, fond and soft, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

"You're away with the fairies," he observed lightly. "The children and I were talking about going to something called The Clink Prison Museum?" He looked uncertain – Hermione felt as though her pregnancy had set Malfoy entirely off-balance. Since they'd found out, his usual behaviour had been overlaid with a constant concern. "Unless you're too tired?"

Hermione shook her head as she smiled at him, and then at the children, who all seemed ever-so-slightly off-balance too – their worlds skewed off-kilter by the news, and then the added worry for the baby. It seemed that Rose and Hugo had very quickly gone from embarrassed to protective though, which was nice, Hermione supposed. "No, not at all," she said with a brightness that was only slightly forced. She was, slightly, but then she was always tired these days.

"Oh good. I've been wanting to go for a while," Hugo said excitedly, as they all gathered their belongings and stood. "Skye and her brother went a few weeks ago, and they thought it was cool. Really gory, Skye said. They told her all about rat torture. Using rats to torture people, I mean, not torturing rats. That would just be cruel."

Malfoy gave Hugo a startled look. "And this is considered age appropriate?"

"Yes! It's specifically for kids," Hugo insisted, back to his ebullient self as he yanked on his knitted beanie. "I showed you the website on your phone!"

"You did," Malfoy allowed, and Hermione frowned as she slid her coat on. She really had been away with the fairies, to miss all that conversation. "Muggles are so weird," Malfoy muttered, as he held out his arm for Hermione to slip hers through. The children headed out of the cafe ahead of them, a bell above the door jangling as they went out, heading in the direction of exciting rat torture, apparently.

It had gone quite well in the end, really, Hermione thought, as Hugo held the door open for her, and Malfoy ushered her through, his hand at the small of her back.

"The Veela's Folly," Hermione said clearly as she threw down her pinch of floo powder, and stepped through the floo in a flare of green flame, ready for hers and Malfoy's Thursday lunch. She stumbled a little as she emerged into a brisk spring breeze, glad that her hair was twisted back into a braid, and that her wool coat held down her brown shirt dress, which wouldn't fit her much longer – she was going to have to start buying maternity wear. At home her leggings, pyjama shorts, and t-shirts were stretchy enough to fit her for a while longer, and she was getting into the habit of stealing Malfoy's joggers and t-shirts. But her smarter clothes were all rather more fitted, and she was showing much quicker with this baby than she had with Rose, or even Hugo.

She looked around herself as she brushed a touch of soot off her sleeves, surprised that Malfoy was nowhere to be seen at the big outdoor firepit the Folly used as a floo, to the right of the official disapparition point. It was a beautiful, sunny spring day though – birds called overhead and the sound of waves crashing was lovely, except it also made her want to pee, just a little. She picked her way down the path in her low-heeled court shoes, feeling buoyant and happy, smiling at a few rogue red petals that went floating by, whisked by the breeze down over the cliff edge, whirling wildly down to the ocean.

The children had been back at school for nearly a week now, and at exactly 16 weeks today, her morning sickness was beginning to clear up a little. And the amniocentesis had come back without any issues. It didn't hurt that Hermione had won her trial that morning, that Harry had just today promised to assign someone to liaise with her to look into the enforcement of guidelines on house elf welfare, and that she was definitelyfeeling the baby move today. Malfoy wouldn't be able to feel it for at least several more weeks, but Hermione had spent the past fifteen minutes before flooing over holding her belly and beaming happily as she felt it move. She was excited to tell Malfoy all her news – with not a scrap of bad news in the bunch.

Lovely.

And then she rounded the corner to the Folly's entrance balcony, and she stuttered to a halt with her heart in her throat, pressing her fingers to her mouth.

"Oh," she said softly, muffled against her fingers, her eyes wide as she stared at the sea of red carnations that covered every visible inch of the building. The wind ripped red petals free, creating the most beautiful blizzard that Hermione had ever seen. And on his left knee on the balcony, in a very Edwardian charcoal suit, with his golden snitch tie – and probably his cuff-links too, Hermione thought – was Malfoy. Snowed with red carnation petals, his right hand closed loosely around something black. He smiled at her, just the faintest hint of one, his eyes catching the spring sun.

"You're late," he said drily. "Probably for the first time in your entire life, I imagine. I've been on one knee for ten minutes. I think my left foot has gone numb."

"Oh my God, Malfoy." Hermione's second hand came up to join her first, pressed to her lips. Tears stood in her eyes, hot and shimmering. Her chin trembled.

"Come here, Granger," he said, his eyes fond and red petals making drifts on his shoulders and white-blond hair, and oh Merlin, the love she felt was like a living creature trapped in her chest. Her heart was beating like a drum and her lungs felt too small.

She was an explosion in slow motion.

The whole world had fallen away.

She went the last few metres to him, speechless, and put her right hand in his left, tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks. His hand was large, warm around hers, and his eyes were clear and bright.

"I love you, Granger. Unapologetically, unconditionally, and frankly maybe a little unhinged-ly."

She choked a watery laugh, and sniffled wetly. "I l-love you too," she whispered, and he shushed her, drawing his hand away and holding the small black box in both hands. Oh. She held her breath, wanting to just gasp 'yes' right now, without waiting. She bit her lip and tried to hold it in, her pulse thrumming wildly, as carnation petals skirled through the air on the sharp breeze, her coat flapping around her knees, and gulls calling.

"I love so many things about you that my leg might fall off before I'm done listing them all. But I love the way you champion lost causes, and then win them. I love how incredibly brave you are, and I admire you so much for it. I love the way you're such an amazing mother, and I'm so damned lucky you're going to be mother to our child. I love and hate the way you put everyone else first – it's very noble, but you deserve to be put first too, and I want to be the one who does that," he said, and Hermione realised with embarrassment that tears were rolling down her cheeks and dripping fat and wet off her jaw. He lifted a corner of his mouth in a lopsided little smile, and opened the jewellery box. Her eyes flew down to it. A stunning oval cut tanzanite gemstone, flanked each side by three diamonds, set in a yellow gold ring.

"Oh, Malfoy…" It was too much. Too beautiful. Far too expensive. It matched her necklace, and earrings. She loved it.

He looked at her steadily.

"But mostly, I want you to be Ms Granger-Malfoy, so that only I can call you Granger again." He took the ring out, and held it out. "Marry me, Granger?"

"Yes," Hermione gasped nearly before he was finished speaking, the word dragged out of her chest, which ached with the force of her emotion. "Yes, Malfoy, of course I will." She wiped away her tears – precariously stemmed for now – and held out her trembling left hand, and then just as he went to slide it on, she saw the glint of what looked like an engraving. "Is it –" she began and he understood, and tipped the ring and held it up, so she could see the inside of the band. One word, engraved in elegant cursive.

"Fascination," he said aloud, his voice tight and rough, emotion shaping his features as their eyes locked.

"Oh," she said in a very small, very happy little voice, and then he slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly, and she lifted her hand and stared at it. Fascinated, she thought wryly. It really was incredibly beautiful. And so was he, as she lowered her hand and looked at him – sprinkled in red carnation petals, elegant and handsome, happiness radiating off him. White-blond hair ruffled in the wind that buffeted the cliffs, and silver eyes gleamed in the light as he smiled just enough that they crinkled at the corners a little – good God, he was just damned hot. Hermione folded the fingers of her left hand up, the feel of a ring there unfamiliar now, after months without wearing any. She loved it.

"Get up and kiss me," she told him, "before your leg falls off."

"If I can," Malfoy said drily, but then pushed himself to his feet with ease, showing no trace of the numbness he'd claimed aside from one little shake of his right foot that made Hermione snicker waterily.

And then he was standing over her with the spring sun shining down on him, perfect in his smart Edwardian suit with his golden snitch tie, all snowed with brilliant red and somehow more himself than he'd ever been before. She wanted to take a photo of him as he was, right at this perfect moment. Happy and satisfied, a glint of triumph in his eyes, his smile nearly a smirk, as though somehow he'd won when she'd accepted his proposal. He bent to her in the sharp breeze, his body blocking the sun and his hands framing her face as his lips met hers, so gently and sweetly, and her eyes slid shut.

Oh.

Hermione felt heady and nearly dizzy as he slanted their mouths together, lips parting and moving, his tongue tracing the curve of her lower lip and then dipping into her mouth, curling over her tongue and sending arousal shooting and cramping through her core. Oh. It was a lingering, soft, thorough kiss that left her head spinning, her whole body tingling and hot despite the chill sea air. A small whimper may have escaped her as she felt pleasure and need shiver up. And then he drew back slowly, his eyes on hers as she fluttered them open, the faintest curve to that expressive mouth of his and satisfaction definitely printed all over him. His right thumb dragged lightly down her left cheek, over her jaw, and gently down her throat as he bit his lip, his gaze very intent and knowing.

"Wh-what?" she asked him rather breathily, feeling unclothed beneath his scrutiny, her pulse racing and her heart thudding hard to match, electricity dancing through her like St Elmo's fire. She felt so alive, arousal and joy competing within her. She didn't know if she wanted to squeal with glee and happiness, or take Malfoy straight home to bed so he could fuck the living daylights out of her.

"I bet you're deliciously wet right now, Granger," he said with a wicked smirk as he tucked a stray lock of hair back behind her ear, with that velvet, honey-dark tone that would have made her wet if she wasn't already.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she said archly, and he grinned.

"I think I already do." And then he rubbed his thumb over her lower lip, leaning in and giving her another quick kiss. "Shall we go in? We have the Folly all to ourselves this afternoon. And I let the Ministry know we won't be back in today." He smiled down at her, his fingers skating down her coat sleeve, and ghosting over the back of her hand. "I'm sorry you can't have champagne to celebrate, but maybe we could have tonic and fresh pomegranate juice instead?"

"In a minute," Hermione said happily, slipping her hand into his and interweaving their fingers, turning to take in the bounty of red carnations that swathed the entire balcony, cascading down the railing. The sky was blue beyond and filled with puffy white clouds; the sort that looked tangible, like drifts of candy floss, or cotton wool. "I want to enjoy this first. It's so perfect."

She led Malfoy to the railing, running her free hand over the flowers, which had to have been magically transfigured from something else. Grains of sand, perhaps, she thought idly. They were beautiful. The two of them leaned over the railing, forearms resting on a bed of flowers, her left shoulder rubbing against his upper arm, her left hand splayed open, so the ring sparkled in the light. They both looked at it, as Hermione leaned her head against Malfoy's shoulder. The tanzanite nearly matched the wind tossed sea in this light, a beautiful, rich blue that contained a multitude of undertones. She loved everything about it. From the way it matched her necklace and earrings, to the meaning it held, and the word engraved inside it.

Fascination.

Her mind wandered as they stood there in silence, the nap of his suit jacket rubbing on her cheek, his hand enfolding hers, petals whisking on the breeze out to sea. "I felt the baby kick today," she said, conversationally, apropos of nothing, but knowing that he would want to know. "Definitely the baby. It was so active." She smiled up at him, their eyes meeting as his thumb rubbed along the side of her hand. "It was why I was late, actually."

"And I hear you won your trial too," Malfoy said – he hadn't been on the Council for the case, but he always kept abreast of her work. "So I suppose it's been a good day all around."

Hermione beamed up at him, love overflowing her. "The best," she said, and lifted her face up in invitation, bliss soaking through her like sunshine and sweetness as he took it, dipping his mouth to hers and kissing her again; long and slow as they stood by the railing, a lone bird calling overheard.