72.

Carina was just over two and a half months old at Christmas. Their first proper family Christmas – them and the four kids, in some strange chaos. They had lunch with Hermione's father and Karen on Christmas Eve, instead of doing a Christmas Day do – her dad was going to spend Christmas Day with Karen and her children, before the two of them headed off on a flight to warmer climes on Boxing Day. They were going to Kiribati for the rest of the holiday season, to laze around in the summer heat and swim in beautiful waters, according to the brochure. It worked out well, seeing her dad early, because Christmas Day itself was busy enough for the combined Granger-Weasley-Malfoys.

Hermione groaned as she dragged herself out of Malfoy's warm embrace on Christmas morning, at the sound of Carina's grizzling.

"Fuck," he swore heartily, and flopped back against the pillows, burying his face in his hands, his erection thrusting forlornly up against the blankets. It had only been two weeks since they'd started having sex again, and they never had enough time and energy to slake their desire. Somehow they were both simultaneously horny as hell, and too tired to do anything about it most of the time.

"If only," Hermione said in response, scooping the baby up and jouncing her gently as she opened her nightie, latching Carina on and settling back into bed. Malfoy huffed.

"So close, and yet so far."

"Merry Christmas," she said, and grinned ruefully at him, as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

"I never realised how terribly babies impeded sex before," Malfoy said wryly, as he leaned in and kissed Hermione's temple, and then stroked the back of his fingers fondly over Carina's downy head – covered in wispy, honeyed curls. It took Hermione a puzzled second to realise why Malfoy hadn't realised; she still remembered acutely the effect Rose, and then Hugo, had on her and Ron's sex life. They'd been very constraining for the first few years – she wasn't sure how she and Ron had even found the opportunity to conceive Hugo. Admittedly, even back then she and Ron hadn't been as besotted with each other as she and Malfoy were, but still – she'd felt the lack of sex, and chafed at it.

Of course, Hermione imagined Malfoy and Astoria hadn't been having sex at that point. She bit her lip, staring down at Carina, as Malfoy realised what he'd said. Neither of them enjoyed comparing then to now – not out loud, at least.

"It gets better," she said after an awkward second's pause. She wouldn't mention it. She smiled wryly. "The first four months are a bit of a write off though."

"It seems so," Malfoy said, sounding entirely composed, and then squeezed her thigh. "Maybe tomorrow, after we drop the children off at the Burrow..." She looked up at him, and saw sickle-bright eyes and a wicked smile. "Aside from Carina, we'll be all alone."

Hermione's stomach turned deliciously. "That sounds like a plan," she said, and her breath came out all husky and soft. "Although there's nothing wrong with a quickie, either…"

"Hm," he said contemplatively. "I'll go make a coffee, and make sure the children are having breakfast, if they're up, and tell them to get ready to head off to the Burrow. And tell them you're sleeping in…" His fingers slid higher up her thigh, beneath her nightie, and Hermione just barely stifled a whimper. "While I'm doing that, you get this one fed and put back down, and then I'll lock the door and fuck your sweet, dripping wet cunt over the end of the bed."

"Yes, please," she said breathlessly, willing Carina to hurry and finish her breakfast. She loved Malfoy doing this, but it was weird when Carina was still attached to her, even if the baby didn't have any idea what was going on.

"If she's down before I get back," he said, leaning in with one knee on the bed, his mouth by her ear and his fingertips brushing over the gusset of her knickers. His tone was honey dark and demanding. "Then I want you to play with yourself. Slip your fingers under your pretty little knickers and rub your clit until you're sopping for me."

Hermione's mouth was dry suddenly, but her vulva already felt as though it was swiftly becoming slick and wet. Her blood throbbed in her veins, arousal sweeping through her. "Okay," she whispered, and nodded obediently, feeling starry-eyed and dizzy, and his lips curled in that wicked smirk, his eyes molten.

"Good," he said, and then stole a kiss and scrambled backward off the bed like a child, grinning. He yanked on pyjama trousers – hinkypunks – and a t-shirt, and disappeared out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

They managed precisely half a quickie before Carina woke again – she came within two minutes on his fingers, but he only got about halfway there before the baby began crying. Hermione could've cried too, but instead she just laughed weakly at the perfectly awful timing. Merry Christmas indeed. But really, what did they expect, from Christmas morning? There was just too much going on. It had always been a bit of a pipe dream to expect anything.

"Easy for you to say," Malfoy said, as he kissed her temple and rolled out of bed, scooping a wakeful, demanding Carina out of her bassinet. "You got to come."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said as she pulled on her nightie, genuinely apologetic. It did seem rather unfair. "I'll make up for it later." She waggled her eyebrows and grinned, but he wasn't looking; busty changing Carina's nappy with a few charms. He glanced up long enough to grace her with a sweet, rueful smile though.

"Don't worry. I'm teasing, Granger. I'll just have a quick wank in the shower."

She snickered at the crudeness.

At least Malfoy had brought back a coffee from his sojourn to sort out the children, and it was still piping hot despite the lack of a warming charm. Hermione gulped down half of it – scalding off her taste buds in the process, and then hurried through to the shower, as Malfoy dressed Carina in her Christmas Day outfit. It was a sweet, snuggly little Christmas tree themed jersey and leggings they'd received from Karen, all in festive reds and greens that made her look like the Gryffindor/Slytherin baby she was, although Scorpius had argued that she'd be in Ravenclaw like he and Rose.

Of the three older children, Scorpius was definitely the most besotted by his little sister, and every time they met the older children at Hogsmeade it was he who lugged her about, like a sack of onions bundled in his arms. And now that he was home for the holidays, he'd been bonding – helping bathe and dress her, and give her bottles. He'd avoided changing any nappies so far though.

"I'll be quick! Two minutes!" Hermione called to Malfoy, who'd obviously been hoping to swoop in ahead of her. Rose was already in there, fiddling around with her make-up, looking so terribly grown up – and also very casual in leggings and an oversized jersey that was big enough to be let as a room in London.

"Merry Christmas, darling." Hermione put her hands on the girl's shoulders and kissed her cheek.

"Ah! Mum! That was loud in my ear," Rose protested, clearly full of Christmas cheer. "And careful, I nearly took my eye out with my eyeliner."

"Oh hush. Are you wearing that?" She injected the last word with motherly uncertainty, eyebrows raised. "Not that you don't look lovely, but we're going to Malfoy's parents' today, and they're…"

"Dreadful?"

"Well, yes. A little," Hermione admitted. That was hardly a secret. "But also formal. Go put on a pair of jeans at least, sweetheart. Maybe that nice dark blue dress you got last week, with a pair of tights. I need the shower anyway – why aren't you in the upstairs bathroom?"

"Scorpius is hogging the bathroom doing his hair." Rose rolled her eyes. "He wants to look good for Albus, you know."

"Good God. He's been dating Albus for over a year now. The boy knows what he looks like." Hermione shooed Rose out. "Go on. You have a mirror in your bedroom, anyway. Use that!"

"Fiiine." Rose sloped out, ruffling Hermione's hair affectionately as she went, as though Hermione was the child, instead of the lanky girl's mother. Merlin, she missed being taller than the children. "Merry Christmas, Mum."

The next forty minutes were just as chaotic as the past fifteen, but eventually everyone had showered, dressed, loaded down with presents and supplies, and ready to floo to the Burrow. The children went through first, and then Hermione – Carina in her arms – turned to Malfoy. "Right. Ready for your first Christmas with the Weasley horde?"

"No," he said drily, looking smart but casual – and devastatingly attractive – in a grey knit jumper, a white button-down shirt, and a pair of charcoal chinos, with smart trainers on. Plimsolls, Hermione had said, and giggled, remembering. He'd smirked wickedly. For her part, she wore her smart brown shirt dress, with tights and boots – bland, and more formal than she'd usually wear to the Burrow, but they were going straight on to the Malfoy Manor, after their lunch at the Burrow.

"You'll be fine," Hermione told him. "They'll welcome you like an honorary Weasley, I'm sure."

"Salazar's sake," he groaned, rather dramatically. "An honorary Weasley. What a thought. How has my life come to this?"

Hermione beamed at him. "I know," she said emphatically. " It's wonderful, isn't it?"

Malfoy tried to give her a disgusted look, but his lips twitched into a half-smile despite himself. She could tell – he might try to pretend otherwise, but he was happy. A little nervous about what he was about to land himself in, yes, but happy. Scorpius had been excited for days, keen to spend Christmas Day with Albus – their youthful romance still going strong, to everyone's surprise. Rose had been through about five boyfriends in that time; she was as bad as her aunt. But much like Ginny, she seemed to be sensible about it, from what Hermione had heard.

"Well, it's not all bad," Malfoy allowed, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear – she had it all piled up on her head in an elaborate bun, held in by about a million pins. The fondness in his eyes made her want to melt.

She stretched up and kissed him on the jaw, and then with Carina snugged in one arm, she took a pinch of floo powder, and tossed it down sharply. "The Burrow," she said clearly, and felt the familiar, disconcerting twist and suck of the floo, landing with a small stumble in the Weasleys' kitchen. Carina took the trip surprisingly well – most babies hated the floo, although it was safe for them. Hermione stepped aside to make way for Malfoy, and was immediately ambushed by Molly, swallowed up in a warm, woolly hug.

"Hermione! And Carina! Oh, don't you look sweet!" Molly stepped back, plump and cheerful in her hand knitted jersey, swathed in a festive apron. She'd only met Carina twice before – once when Hermione had brought her around at four weeks old, specifically for that purpose, and then again when Scorpius, Rose, and Hugo had spent the first night of the holidays here, with their Potter and Weasley cousins, and Scorpius had shown Carina off to everyone. "Here, Hermione dear, I've got five minutes before the goose has to come out – give me a cuddle with this sweetheart, and yourself a wee break."

"Thank you," Hermione began, and then the floo puffed up, and Malfoy emerged, stiff and nervous, into the warm, noisy atmosphere of the Burrow. Hermione gladly deposited Carina in Molly's arms, and went to his aid as he looked around uncertainly. He looked rather like a little lost mooncalf, and was as out of place as a jobberknoll in a diricawl pen. She linked her arm in his, and took him off toward the large table, as Molly cooed to Carina happily over by the range, jostling her gently up and down.

Malfoy stared over his shoulder at Molly. "She's not about to drop our child in a pot, is she?"

"She's not Baba Yaga, for God's sake," Hermione said with a small smile, thwapping him on the stomach. "And she's raised six children without –" losing one, she'd been about to say, and then she'd thought of Fred, with a soft pang of grief, worn smooth by the years. But that hadn't been Molly's fault. "Carina will be fine, stop fussing," she finished instead, and thankfully Malfoy understood what she hadn't said.

"And what about our other assorted children?" he asked drily, as Hermione tugged him to sit at the table, smiling around and mouthing 'Merry Christmas' to everyone as she took a seat beside Harry, with Malfoy at the end. The children were nowhere to be seen.

"Scorpius went off like a shot to find Albus," Harry said helpfully as he offered them both a mug of cider, Malfoy shifting uncomfortably on the bench seat as he looked around the Burrow. The house was homely in both senses of the word; cosy, furnished with what appeared to be the contents of a nice secondhand shop, and crowded with people, mostly in festive jerseys that had been last year's gifts from Molly. "Hugo went with him though, so I don't think we'll find them getting their end away in one of the upstairs bedrooms."

"Merlin, Potter," Malfoy said, appalled, making a face as he accepted the cider with a nod of thanks. "I preferred it when you were trying to pretend they weren't dating." The table was filled with people. George, Angelina, Charlie, Percy, and Audrey took up the opposite side, and Ginny, Fleur, and Victoire sat down from Harry. Hermione guessed that, as usual, the other adults were likely in the sitting room, and the children were rampaging through the upstairs.

"How sad for you Malfoy," Harry said without venom, and then as he poured Hermione a cider from the urn in the middle of the table: "I don't know where Rose is though."

"Well, she can't be snogging anyone – she's related to them all. So I'm sure she's fine," Hermione said with a grin.

"Here dear – I've got to get that bird out of the oven," Molly said, bringing Carina back, and Audrey shot Hermione a look.

"May I?"

"Please – go for it," Hermione said, and Carina went to her Aunt Audrey, blinking wide uneven slate-grey eyes up at her – one definitely darker than the other now – and sucking on her fist, quite content. And then Hermione slid her hand over Malfoy's thigh supportively and made the usual small talk – catching up on news with everyone around the table. They all wanted a look at her ring and to know when the wedding would be, and good-naturedly interrogated Malfoy on what he thought of the Burrow and a Weasley Christmas thus far.

"Well, I've hardly seen much yet," he said lightly, "But I can't imagine it can be worse than Christmas with my parents."

That provoked a chorus of laughs and grimaces, and George wished Hermione luck for the afternoon. "Are you staying for dinner?" he asked, and she shook her head, as Carina was passed along to Percy.

"No – after lunch here, we'll be too full for a Christmas dinner, I think, so we'll just be having afternoon tea," Hermione said with a smile, and felt nerves churn in her stomach, the cider suddenly sitting uneasy. She wasn't looking forward to their afternoon with Lucius and Narcissa. It was the first time that Rose and Hugo would meet them.

They'd met Carina once, only a few weeks ago, at an awkward lunch at a cafe in Place Cachée, a location which had seemed more relaxed and neutral than either of their houses. Lucius had been politely disinterested, pronouncing Carina a 'healthy child' as he'd peered at her in Narcissa's arms, a mildly disapproving air hanging about him. Narcissa had been much more enthusiastic – she'd obviously immediately adored her only granddaughter, and had spent the entire lunch neglecting her food in favour of cooing over the baby.

Carina was popular here, too. She must have gone through everyone's arms by midday, much like Johnnie, who was only a few months older and didn't look at all like a Weasley, instead taking after his mother. Dark-haired, with bright blue eyes, he was a bonny baby. And being the only two little ones in the house, they both got lavished with attention. Hermione found it relaxing, aside from the overall strangeness that suffused everything, given the situation.

Molly and Arthur were welcoming hosts, and the rest of the family accepted Malfoy's presence without blinking, but it was odd to have both Chastity and Malfoy there. Hermione wasn't sure why it was so strange, but it was. Unnatural. But very nice.

They'd done Secret Santa, as always, and she'd got Charlie a new pair of fireproof gloves that were just barely within budget. Malfoy had got Ginny, and Hermione had needed to drive home that no, he couldn't give her expensive jewellery; he in fact had to stay within budget. Instead, he'd brewed Ginny up a batch of topical potion that was apparently great for strained muscles after a Quidditch match, which he'd sworn by when he was at school.

"You'll make a rod for your own back if she likes it," Hermione had said, and Malfoy had shaken his head. "I'll just give her the recipe. She can make her brother do it – George. He brews a lot for that shop of his, doesn't he?"

Percy got Hermione, and gave her a lovely new quill that seemed like it would write like a dream, and a pot of shimmering ink. Malfoy's Secret Santa was Fleur; she'd bought him a silver tie clip, which Hermione was sure had to be over budget. But it was very elegant, and on the back was engraved 'Property of HG', of all things. Malfoy had read it and actually grinned briefly, and Hermione had stifled a giggle, absolutely loving it, and Fleur for doing it. And then everyone had wanted to know what was so funny, and so the tie clip had made the rounds of the room, much to Malfoy's embarrassment.

Ron had snorted, Rose had said, "Ew, gross, Aunt Fleur," and Arthur had smiled and patted Molly's knee, saying, "Happy wife, happy life, eh, dear?"

The day was like some bizarre exercise in confusion. At one point Hermione came back from fetching herself and Malfoy another mug of Molly's famous mulled cider each, to find Ron cradling Carina over by the Christmas tree as he chatted Quidditch with Ginny, while Malfoy sat with Johnnie in his arms, making conversation with Chastity. Unlike Ron, who held Carina snugged up against him as if she were his own – giving Hermione weird déjà vu of years long gone by – Malfoy looked rather stiff, as though he would rather be anywhere else. Although he seemed to be charming Chastity perfectly well, the younger witch smiling and chattering away brightly.

He shot Hermione a look of abject relief as her arrival with the cider meant he had to hand Johnnie back to Chastity, and then Hermione neatly extracted him from the conversation, with an exhortation to come outside and get some fresh air. It was extremely fresh – frigid, in fact. But it was also quiet compared to the noise and bustle of the house, and private. Clutching steaming mugs of cider, they stood up close to the house, sheltering from the cutting wind, Hermione pressing into Malfoy with a warming charm cast – she hadn't brought a coat. She hadn't expected to be stepping foot outside. He slung an arm around her shoulders, tugging her into the warmth of his body.

There was a thin layer of dirty snow on the ground, and the sky above was heavy with clouds. It looked like more snow was about to fall.

"Ronald Weasley is currently cradling my daughter," Malfoy said conversationally after a sip of cider, sounding a little shellshocked. Hermione grimaced ruefully – not that he would see with the way she was cuddled into him – and huffed a little chuckle.

"It is rather odd. I felt very confused when I saw the two of you had swapped babies," she admitted, her cider warming her right hand, steam curling up off the mug in licks and whirls. It smelt heavenly. "Don't worry though. He was always good with the children as babies. He won't drop her ."

"I'm not worried about that," he said, a note of amusement in his voice, his arm tightening around Hermione. "I'm just…a little off balance. This has been one of my stranger Christmases in recent memory."

"Really?"

"It's very nice, and I hate it," Malfoy said unconvincingly. Hermione smiled and squeezed him tighter.

"You'll live. Only another hour or so to go before we can politely take our leave."

"Ugh, and go to my parents'. Hardly an improvement, Granger," he complained, but he kissed her head. They stood outside for a little longer, wrapped together in a bubble of peace as snow began to fall, before the kitchen door shoved opened, and bright, warm light and the sound of a grizzling baby drifted out.

"Oi! You two. Your baby wants you," Ron's voice said unceremoniously, and Hermione sighed and patted Malfoy on the chest as she disentangled herself from their cosy embrace, ending the warming charm with a murmur and a flick of her wand.

"Come on then," she said, as she crunched quickly over the ground toward the warm glow of the kitchen, and the crying and chatter wafting out. "Back to the grindstone."

When they finally left the Burrow, they had one extra child in tow – in a bizarre turn of events, Albus had finagled his way into coming along to the Malfoy Manor. A Potter child at the Malfoy Manor, along with a few Weasley offspring, and one small Granger-Malfoy. Hermione hadn't thought the day could get any more discombobulating, but somehow it had.

They'd been getting ready to leave when Scorpius had asked, rather hopefully, if perhaps Albus might be able to come along for the afternoon. Grandmother Narcissa and Grandfather Lucius have never met Albus, he said, rather pale and nervous with Albus's fingers just barely tangled in his, his chin up, those up-tilted grey eyes clouded with emotion. I think perhaps they should.

Scorpius was clearly finally ready to take a quiet stand about who he loved, after years of placating his grandparents by keeping his head down, and avoiding the topic as much as possible. Malfoy had always made it clear he would go to bat for his son and confront his parents, but Scorpius had never wanted that; conflict avoidant, he'd wanted to keep the peace.

Now though, after over a year with Albus, it seemed Scorpius had decided to shake up the status quo – long overdue in Hermione's opinion. Although possibly their already slightly fraught, overwhelming Christmas Day was not the best time for the teenager to make that statement.

But he'd looked at his father with that frightened determination, the two boys' fingertips curled together, and it had been impossible for Malfoy to say anything but yes, in the end. Malfoy had looked at Hermione pleadingly, as if for some kind of advice, and she'd just grimaced and shrugged.

"Well, if Albus's parents are fine with it…" Malfoy had hazarded, his gaze sliding to Harry and Ginny who still sat at the dining table, both looking mildly amused.

"Oh sure, yes. Please. Take him and keep him," Harry said with a grin, and a flap of his hand, and it was settled. Albus Potter was coming along to the Malfoy Manor for Christmas.

And thus, half an hour later, Hermione, Malfoy, and his parents were seated in the upper parlour of the Manor on rather straight-backed, velvet settees, sipping tea and nibbling at elaborate dainties. Lucius was silent and stony-faced beside his wife, who held a slightly fussy Carina in her arms, rocking her and murmuring sweet words, trying to soothe her.

"I think she's getting hungry," Hermione said helpfully.

The two elder Malfoys had taken Albus's presence fairly well – or at least, they had been polite throughout Scorpius's introduction.

Grandmother, Grandfather – this is my boyfriend, Albus Potter. Al – my grandparents, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. I hope you don't mind Albus joining us for the afternoon.

How the two Malfoys felt internally was anyone's guess, although Hermione had noticed that Narcissa's smile had become slightly fixed, and Lucius's face had frozen in a kind of grim neutrality. The dogs had been the only ones blissfully ignorant of the tension, and gambolled about everyone's legs, until Rose had knelt down and fussed over them – drawing a thin smile from Lucius – as Scorpius kissed his grandmother on the cheek, and shook his grandfather's hand. And then the rest of the older children filed past them in a rather hilarious line, like the Von Trapp children, all taking turns kissing Narcissa's cheek and shaking Lucius's hand.

Albus had held Lucius's gaze for half a second too long, and smiled. "My father sends his regards," he'd said with an almost triumphant note in his voice, and Lucius's jaw had twitched.

"Indeed?" he'd said, in a smooth, controlled voice, but Hermione had sensed the anger rising in him. Albus had smiled before he'd released Lucius's hand, and Rose had greeted her soon to be step-grandfather with a glowing, charming smile next, and asked the dogs' names. Hermione had discreetly collared Albus on his way past her.

"Your father did no such thing," she had whispered in his ear, and he'd smirked unrepentantly.

"Yeah, but he doesn't know that, Aunt 'Mione," he'd said and grinned at her, the spit of his father.

"You're incorrigible," she'd told him, and he'd apologised insincerely before Scorpius had taken him by the wrist.

"Rose, Hugo. Come on and I'll give you a tour."

"Stay out of my study!" Lucius had called after them, as the four children had traipsed off merrily, taking the dogs with them – they seemed glued to Rose and Hugo, the former giving them pats, and the latter feeding them God only knew what, out of his trouser pocket. "And stay out of the cellar! And the potions' laboratory! And our bedroom! And –"

"Yes, Grandfather Lucius!" Scorpius had called back. "I'll just take them through to the library!"

"And don't tease the blo– the portraits! They sulk for weeks when you do!" Lucius had spluttered. And Rose – bright and smiling, and full of charm – had turned to face them.

"Don't worry – we'll be good, Scorp's Grandfather Lucius!" she'd said playfully, the cheeky chit of a girl, and then whistled to a dog, ruffling its ears as it leaped around her legs. Lucius's shoulders had slumped, and he'd looked so adrift and defeated for a moment that Hermione had almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

Mostly she'd been highly amused.

And now she sat making small talk with Narcissa, while Malfoy said as little as possible, and Lucius sat sullenly and muttered about his precious dogs, and about what on earth the children were doing, and kept summoning the house-elves to check on them.

Thank Merlin for Carina – she gave Hermione and Narcissa something to talk about, and fill in what would otherwise be awkward silence, and dour muttering. They discussed her routine, her milestones, her temperament, her eyes, and how utterly adorable she was. The only hiccup was when it came to discussing Hermione's return to work, and Narcissa gave her a silent, tight-lipped look that telegraphed disapproval.

"I'll be glad to stay at home with her, Mother," Malfoy said, stepping in quickly. "And Hermione's career is more upwardly mobile than mine." He gave her a fleetingly soft look, full of pride that made her heart sing. "She plans to be Minister for Magic some day, and I have no such ambitions. I would far rather be at home with Carina." He smiled coolly at his mother, as said baby began to grizzle, and Hermione moved to take her; she needed to be fed.

"Besides, Mother, it will give me more time to focus on the Malfoy investments and holdings. You and Father always say I'm neglecting them."

"Well, that is true," Narcissa said, taking up a dainty triangle of sandwich now she was freed of Carina, as Hermione unbuttoned her top several buttons to free a breast for the whimpering baby.

"You need to –" Lucius began and then broke off, and Hermione looked up as Carina latched on – rather viciously, making her wince – to see Malfoy's father staring at her, horrified, flushing high on his cheeks. Lucius Malfoy, utterly at sea in his own home. Impotent, mortified, stuttering and stammering, stumbling over his words as he looked away from Hermione's mostly hidden breast. This was almost better than watching The Kardashians.

"I – I'm going to check on those children," he said abruptly, and fled.

Hermione stifled a laugh, and Narcissa sniffed in displeasure.

"If you'd like privacy, Hermione," she said in a stilted voice, "then you may retire into Draco's old bedroom, if you wish. It's just down the corridor to the right."

"I'm perfectly comfortable, thank you, Narcissa," Hermione said, composed and smiling politely.

Narcissa opened her mouth. "But –" And then Malfoy cleared his throat meaningfully, and his mother pressed her lips together, and said no more. Hermione darted her gaze sideways, and noticed him staring at his mother, his expression all cold warning. She settled her hand on his thigh, filled with gratitude and love, and his hand fell over hers, warm and broad. He always had her back. Narcissa looked at the two of them and Carina – a united front, Malfoy's hand enveloping hers – and was quiet for a moment. And then she smiled at them; a genuine, soft expression.

"You two remind me of your father and I," she said to Malfoy. And strangely, that felt like quite the compliment. Malfoy seemed to take it as one, his mouth twisting into a rueful smile.

"Thank you, Mother," he said, and then he asked her about the gardens, because, "We'll be getting married in them this autumn, after all," and that smoothed things over beautifully, the conversation picking up again, and Malfoy contributing more, thank Merlin. It was actually quite lovely.

But eventually, the temporary harmony ended when Lucius came stalking back in with short, vigorous steps, a beagle wriggling in his arms, and irritation evident in every line of him. He cast his eyes toward Hermione and seemed relieved to find her buttoned back up, Carina sleeping in the crook of her arm.

"Your daughter is spoiling my bloody dogs, your son is trading insults with my father's portrait, and I walked in on your son," he said, aiming the last at Malfoy, "engaging in entirely untoward behaviour with the Potter boy in my sodding study. Where I told them not to go."

"Oh God," Hermione said, standing. She wasn't entirely sure 'spoiling dogs' was a fair thing to be irritated over, but the other two things were reasonable issues to be angry about. Merlin, she really hoped Albus and Scorpius hadn't been stupid enough to get caught halfway to something R18. Embarrassment seethed up in her. And oh Hugo – why couldn't he resist? It was probably Lucius's mention of the portraits that had put the idea in his head.

"Salazar's fucking sake," Malfoy nearly snarled, stalking off – looking worryingly like his father, and clearly thinking the worst. She didn't know if he was more frustrated with his father or Scorpius and Albus, but he was obviously furious.

"Shit," she muttered, and hurried after him, with an apologetic glance at Narcissa.

"But he started it, Mum!" Hugo protested. "He called me the spawn of a blood traitor!" Hermione sighed, as she shooed Hugo through toward the floo in the Great Hall. She had no doubt that Abraxas Malfoy would've done exactly that, but –

"He's a portrait, Hugo."

"Exactly! Whose feelings does it hurt if I call him a –"

"Don't repeat it, Hugo!" Hermione said swiftly. He'd been using more vulgar language than a Liverpool fan, although Abraxas had been giving as good as he'd got when Hermione had turned up, to yank Hugo away. Rose had been notably indignant, when she was collected.

"He just got mad because Atticus wouldn't go to him when he called," Rose had said mutinously as the beagle pranced at her feet, while Lucius glowered from the library door, looking as though he'd very much like to refute that accusation and couldn't.

Regardless of how petty Lucius may or may not have been, Hermione collected the children up, leaving Scorpius and Albus to Malfoy, Lucius lingering in the corridor rather than shadowing them, thank Merlin. Hermione's nerves couldn't take her future father-in-law stalking her through the house. God, what a mess.

Narcissa was at the floo, waiting with a house-elf beside her. The witch clutched a stack of envelopes. "I had gifts," she said helplessly, pale and fraught. "Cards and gift vouchers, for all the children, except Albus of course. We weren't expecting him. But…" She proffered the envelopes, and embarrassment swamped Hermione. Narcissa, at least, had been trying her best today.

"Thank you, Narcissa," Hermione said, as the two children took their cards, murmuring thanks. "And I'm so sorry about their behaviour. As are they. Right, children?" Her tone and stare said, 'I know it might be unfair, but please don't argue', and thank Merlin the children both nodded obediently, and mumbled agreements, and apologies. Narcissa smiled tightly.

"And I am sorry about Lucius," she said, sounding sincere, and rather nervous. It was becoming very clear to Hermione that regardless of how Lucius felt, Narcissa wanted to foster a relationship with Carina, and was willing to make the effort to do so. "He's…not accustomed to change. I fear today was rather too much, all at once."

"The children can be quite a lot, I suppose," Hermione allowed limply, and then they lapsed into a silence that was only broken by the arrival of the others.

"They were kissing," Malfoy said angrily to his father, as he and the two boys entered the Great Hall, followed by Lucius. "Kissing and holding hands, for Merlin's sake. Hardly the crime of the sodding century." He looked nearly incandescent with controlled rage as he jerked to a halt and faced his father down; a good inch taller, and broader besides. Lucius seemed to shrink before him, looking suddenly like a stooped old man. Hermione bit her lip, and Hugo shuffled slightly behind her, looking nervy.

"Well, they shouldn't have been doing it in my study," Lucius shot back rather weakly, as Scorpius and Albus hurried over to Hermione and the others, and Malfoy and his father stood face to face, with very little personal space between them. Malfoy was pale and angry, but holding himself in check, his jaw tight and his expression grim.

"No," Malfoy admitted, biting the words out. "That's true. Was that your only issue then, father?" he asked, almost like a taunt. "That they were in your study? Nothing else?"

Lucius held his son's gaze for a long moment, and Hermione felt the things that went unsaid between the two of them. The silent, symbolic duel happening in front of her. And then Lucius looked away and sighed. Nodded, accepting defeat.

"Yes," he said wearily. "That was my only issue, Draco. I explicitly told them not to enter my study. They should have remained in the library."

Malfoy lifted his chin. "Good," he said, his eyes hard. "That's good." And the matter was done. Closed. And Malfoy had clearly won. "Scorpius. Apologise to your grandfather for going into his study."

"Sorry, Grandfather Lucius," Scorpius muttered, holding Albus's hand tightly. Both boys looked flushed, and distinctly un-sorry. Teenagers.

"Say goodbye to your grandparents," Malfoy said next, still pinning his father with that cold, hard stare, implacable in the defence of his child. Good God, it was sexy. Hermione felt her stomach twist with a flare of pointless, inconvenient arousal, before Malfoy stepped back from his father and moved to Hermione's side, his hand settling at the small of her back, warm and large. Protective.

They all said their goodbyes, the four older children going through the floo first, as the adults made polite, awkward farewells, Narcissa expressing the hope that they would see them again soon, sounding distressed and sincere.

"We'll see, Mother," Hermione heard Malfoy said shortly, as she and Carina went through the floo.

The day hadn't gone completely terribly in the end, all things considered, but restful it was not. When they arrived home, Malfoy took Scorpius off to his room with an ominous, "I want a word with you." Scorpius had said a quick goodbye to Albus, and scarpered, looking nervous. Hermione doubted Malfoy was going to scold his son, exactly, but she imagined he might have some choice words to say on the issue.

Hermione handed a sleeping Carina off to Rose – "Five minutes, sweetheart. Give her to Malfoy if she wakes and cries. I just have to drop Albus at home."

She'd followed the young Harry lookalike through the floo to his house, and swiftly explained the situation to Ginny, once Albus had thundered up the stairs. "To be fair, they probably shouldn't have been snogging at the Malfoys' – I'd have been just as mortified if Lucius had walked in on Rose and a boy," she said to Ginny. "And they weren't supposed to be in Lucius's study. But I have the feeling Scorpius was trying to make a point to his Grandfather."

"And did he?" Ginny asked, offering Hermione a glass of wine she had to mournfully reject.

"I wish – I could do with a drink – but I can't stay. I left Rose literally holding the baby. But yes, he most certainly made his point. And then Malfoy drove it home further by forcing Lucius to back down, and at least pretend at a token acceptance."

"Oh?" Ginny arched one perfect eyebrow curiously, wineglass paused halfway to her lips.

"Mm. I'd give you all the details if I wasn't in such a rush, but you'll have to wait for the next time we have lunch. It was rather strangely appealing, actually, seeing Malfoy out-glare Lucius. But not the way I planned on spending Christmas Day."

Hermione sighed and rubbed at her forehead. It had been a very long day, and according to Ginny's kitchen clock it was only 3 pm. And she was getting a tension headache.

Wonderful.

"Maybe next year we should just hide at home," Hermione said through a yawn, as she nestled down into bed at the early hour of 10 pm, in nothing but knickers and a thin vest, her scalp aching slightly after letting down her hair from its bun, and pulling out the million pins she'd had in it. "Today was utterly exhausting, and I want to sleep for a week. Rub my head?" She wriggled limply and ineffectively in his direction.

"I'd rather rub other things," Malfoy said. "But come here, then, you demanding witch." He sat up, resting back against a pile of pillows, and she scrambled over, lying on her back between his legs with her head resting on his abdomen. He buried his fingers in her hair and massaged her tender scalp, and she hummed in pleasure.

"Mmph. Malfoy. Keep doing that, and I might be moved to rub things for you." She could almost feel his ears prick up with hopeful interest. She could definitely feel his already semi-erect cock twitch where it pressed between her shoulder blades.

"Oh, really?"

"Really," she said, melting under his fingers. Merlin, it felt fantastic. The children were upstairs in their rooms, with strict orders to put their lights out by eleven – it was the holidays after all – Carina was fast asleep in her bassinet, and their long day was finally over. Hermione felt the tension drain from her body under Malfoy's touch, her shoulders unwinding, and the tightness of anxiety in her chest letting go. Lazy, languorous sex sounded lovely. Once she'd relaxed a little more.

"Today wasn't so bad," Malfoy said as he moved his gentle massage to her shoulders, his pronouncement prompting a quiet scoff from Hermione. "It could certainly have gone worse, especially considering we had a Potter at my parents' house. No maiming, death, or disinheriting. I was actually pleasantly surprised."

"Your standards are far too low, Malfoy," Hermione said, arching her neck and pushing back into his hands. His cock was optimistically erect against her back, and she smiled to herself.

"Realistic," he countered wryly, thumbs pressing in like magic. Oh. "We all survived intact. That counts as a victory."

"I prefer my Christmases to be enjoyable, not survivable."

"The rules are different for Malfoys," he said with a self aware kind of amusement. "Survivable is enjoyable."

"Mm, that reminds me," she said, stretching, her muscles tensing as she extended her arms out to the sides and pointed her toes, before draping her legs over his and letting her arms flop down. "What did you end up saying to Scorpius earlier?"

The children had disappeared for most of the rest of the afternoon and evening – Hugo on video call with his friends, and Scorpius and Rose hanging out in her room. They'd skipped a proper dinner after the feast they'd had at Christmas lunch, and the children had only made brief appearances to scavenge in the kitchen for snack foods, before vanishing again. Hermione had only caught glimpses of Scorpius since Malfoy's talk with him.

"I told him he should've picked a day other than Christmas Day, ideally," Malfoy idly carded his fingers through her hair, done with the massage. She wriggled and rolled over, sprawled between his thighs. His erection thrust up against his boxer shorts right in front of her face, and she dropped a kiss on the shaft through the cotton, before looking up at him. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes molten. He looked rather distracted. Hermione smiled to herself.

"Yes?" she prompted, getting comfortable between his legs, which necessitated touching his cock quite a lot. Or at least, it did the way she did it. He bit his lip, jerking in a breath before he went on.

"And I told him to make sure he adheres to the letter of the law if he's looking to be taken seriously when he makes a point, rather than just dismissed as a troublemaker. My father would have been almost as irritated if he'd caught them in the conservatory, or library, and he wouldn't have had the excuse of the two boys being in his study to hide behind."

"True," Hermione said. She nuzzled his erection with casual affection, and he made a stifled sound. "Although perhaps having that excuse was a good thing – it gave your father a way to back down on Scorpius's sexuality. You pushed him into implying he was fine with it, in order to avoid confrontation." She kissed his cock again, remembering how he'd looked as he'd faced his father. "I thought that turned out brilliantly, actually."

She sighed. "At least Rose behaved, despite your father's tantrum about the dogs. I do wish that Hugo hadn't got in a slanging match with your grandfather's portrait. Not the greatest showing for the Granger-Weasleys there. Fighting with portraits." The corners of her lips drew down as she drummed her fingers lightly on his erection, her engagement ring twinkling in the lamplight.

Malfoy shuddered and grabbed her hand, stilling her fingers.

"Fucking hell, Granger. I can't concentrate while you're doing that. Either stop molesting my cock and talk, or shut up and suck it."

Hermione snickered evilly and tugged at his shorts, his erection springing free almost jauntily. "I make no promises about shutting up," she said, but her lips closed over the head of his cock, and it really was rather hard to talk with her mouth full. She tried one last time though: "M'ry C'mas," she said around his cock, garbled and distorted as she looked up at him, and he huffed a laugh.

"Merlin, I love you," he said helplessly, covering his face with one hand, and Hermione felt warm inside, unvoiced laughter bubbling up in her chest.

All in all, Malfoy was right – it wasn't too bad for their first Christmas as a blended family, Hermione thought, some long, enjoyable minutes later, panting and flushed, her body limp with the pleasure he'd stroked into her. Chaotic, and not without its hiccups, but overall, it could've been much worse. She decided to call it a success. Just like the rest of her life, right now.

She curled up to Malfoy, naked and sweat-damp, and kissed his flushed, breathless lips before she tucked her head under his chin, and then fell asleep like that; happy, in the circle of his arms.