The next two weeks felt like hell on earth for Hermione and Draco. And they'd fought and lived through a war. The fact that planning a wedding had them more frazzled than fighting off a bigoted sociopath was extremely telling. And it wasn't just the wedding planning per se, really it was the amount of damage Skeeter's, the nosy hag, article had caused.
Hermione had already made a spectacle of herself twice in the prior week with her black out and following "stomach bug". Now paired with Skeeter's garbage, she was the center of attention everywhere she went and this time, it wasn't for a good reason.
Monday morning had unfortunately rolled around, and Hermione was prepared for the worst. Everything she had predicted had come to fruition: the stares, the whispers... the scowls. Apparently, Draco had been a hot commodity in the dating pool and of course she, Hermione Granger, of all people would be the one to snag him.
They'd mutually decided that they should arrive separately for the first few days to help stave off anything. Being seen together would only fuel the fire. On the flip side, that would make people question why they weren't together all the time considering they were newly engaged.
But Hermione honestly wanted it to be done and over with. The only normal reactions she'd received were from her supervisor, Kaiser Snyde, who'd offered a polite congratulations and asked that she try to keep things between Mr. Malfoy and herself professional while they were at work. And the department secretary who'd also congratulated her and gave her three boxes of "fan mail" that all had arrived that morning.
It took her almost four hours to sort through all of it. About a third of it was angry letters asking how she could marry a death eater or empty death threats from elitists. Another third was declarations of love and jealousy. And the rest were congratulatory. Mind that she knew absolutely none of these people.
But she honestly couldn't complain. Draco was the one who'd drawn the short straw in this arrangement. He told her of how people would mutter insults as he passed them, calling him death eater scum and other nasty things one wouldn't dream of saying in polite company. He'd also received "fan" mail and about 99.999% of it was hate mail. He'd saved one of them for her to read and she was appalled.
She couldn't understand how someone could muster so much hate for another... but at the same time, she did.
And through all of this, they'd only grown closer. Out of the fourteen days that had passed, she'd slept over at his place for eleven. The first two nights were rather awkward as they learned to manoeuvre around each other. But by the third night, they were too exhausted from the day's events to care and woke the next morning curled around each other.
In the past two weeks, Hermione had learned seven things:
1. Ginny and Narcissa were a brilliant team.
2. Draco was much more easygoing than she thought.
3. Consistently sharing a bed with someone was actually kind of nice.
4. Finding the "perfect" dress was not as easy as everyone made it out to be.
5. Trying to get RSVPs was worse than the construction of the guest list.
6. People were even nosier than she could've ever imagined.
7. Letters could be sent from Azkaban.
It was five days until the wedding and Hermione's anxiety, amplified by her hormones, was raging like a mad centaur. Two days prior, she received a letter from Azkaban in her usual fan mail. Obviously curious and confused as to why anyone rotting in Azkaban would write her, she opened it.
She felt herself become faint as she read the letter once, twice, three times and made herself sit down.
"... I invite you to visit me this Friday, the 25th, at any time convenient to you and discuss the recent events that have caught my attention."
She always snorted at that last bit. Her watch gave a light buzz alerting her it was a quarter to eleven. She swore under her breath as she quickly packed up her stuff, abandoning all the files and the letter, and hurried out of her office. She almost trampled Mr. Snyde as she rushed past the front desk.
"Easy there, Miss Granger," he joked lightly.
"Oh! I'm so sorry," she apologized quickly.
"No worries." He checked the clock. "A bit early to be taking your lunch break, don't you think?"
"I, uh, have a doctor's appointment at 11," she replied stiffly.
He hummed to himself and nodded once. "Well, I hope everything is in good order then."
Hermione smiled and hurried off, feeling weird. She never had a problem with him; he was quite a nice man. But she always felt strange after interacting with him. There was something off about him. She just couldn't put her wand on it.
She flooed from the Ministry and arrived at Mungo's at eleven on the dot. She quickly cast a glamour to her hair, making it black instead of brown and let it hang around her face. She made her way to the receptionist desk when she felt someone come up behind her.
She whipped around, wand poised when she realised it was Draco. He, too, had disguised himself. The only way she had recognised him was his unmistakable burnt charcoal irises. His hair was a shade or two darker than normal and was tucked under a black messenger cap. And Merlin did he look good in it.
She gave him a soft smile. "Hey."
"Hey," he smiled back. He fingered a disguised ringlet of her hair.
"Black?" he smirked.
She shrugged. "How'd you know it was me?"
He lazily dragged his eyes down her face, "Call it a hunch."
She raised an eyebrow.
"And that fifty-kilo bag you insist on lugging around."
She snorted and turned to go check-in.
"Hermione Granger for eleven o' clock," she said quietly to the receptionist. His eyes rounded as he put two and two together.
"Right, second floor, room 26. Healer Zane will be there shortly."
Draco wrapped an arm around her waist as they walked to the lifts.
It was their first, official prenatal visit, and Draco could truly say he'd never seen anything more mesmerizing. As Healer Zane dragged the tip of his wand across Hermione's abdomen, a small black-and-white image blossomed above his hand- a cloudy, ethereal shape that gradually sharpened into their unborn child. Draco's breath caught as he recognized the faint flickering of a heartbeat, a rhythm that seemed to echo in his own chest, anchoring him more deeply than he'd ever thought possible.
A gentle squeeze on his hand made him glance down. Hermione had laced her fingers through his, her thumb softly brushing his knuckles, her expression softened by awe. Draco couldn't look away from her, from the glow on her face that seemed to light up the room, a glow that made everything else feel so… right.
He let out a quiet sigh, feeling her pulse beneath his fingertips, perfectly in sync with the steady thrum of their child's heart on the image before them. In that moment, a powerful contentment settled in him. For the first time in a long time, he felt not just satisfied but truly, deeply whole.
His mind drifted back to darker days- those bleak months during the war when he'd accepted that survival was more a wish than a certainty. Every day felt like a gamble, and he'd resigned himself to the slim odds of making it out alive, carrying his family's name with all its weight and complications.
But somehow, he had survived. And then he'd faced a new challenge: stepping back into a world that saw him as a relic of darker times. The judgment, the shame, the rumors had all been relentless, each whisper feeling like a reminder of things he'd rather forget. And now, here he was, hand-in-hand with Hermione Granger, the Gryffindor Princess and war hero, as they watched their baby's heart beat on a literal cloud.
He smiled softly, brushing a tender kiss across her knuckles. How unlikely, how wild, but how perfect. Healer Zane's voice cut through the moment, bringing them back. "How much have you been eating, Hermione? Your weight and iron are a bit low for this stage."
Hermione shrugged, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. "Um, normally, I suppose. I tend to skip breakfast or have something light, and lunch is usually late..."
Healer Zane shook his head, his brows drawing together in concern. "That's something we'll need to adjust right away," he said firmly. "If you keep up that routine, you'll risk becoming underweight and anaemic, which can make this pregnancy high-risk. We may need to consider bed rest."
Hermione's face fell, and she shuddered a little at the thought of being forced to stay home for eight months, doing absolutely nothing. Her fingers tightened around Draco's, and he felt a flash of determination stir in him, a silent promise to do whatever it took to help her stay healthy.
The healer's tone turned graver, his face reflecting a kind of practiced caution. "Malnutrition at this stage can even lead to miscarriage," he said quietly.
Hermione paled, her grip tightening so much it hurt. "That won't be a problem," she replied, her voice steady but low. Draco brushed a reassuring thumb over her hand, his heart twisting at the idea. He could see the resolve in her eyes and knew they'd do whatever it took.
He smiled lightly. "I figured as much. How're those potions working for you? Any problems?"
"Nope, they've been great so far... except that prenatal stuff," she said, her face contorting.
He hummed, a glimmer of humor dancing in his dark eyes. "Yes, I've heard it's quite unpleasant. If it starts causing you any trouble, stop taking it and come see me right away, alright?"
"Of course. I actually have a question," Hermione replied, shifting to a bit on the examination table.
Healer Zane nodded, motioning for her to continue.
"What's the best estimate for when I'll really start to show?"
Draco, who had been somewhat lost in thought, perked up. That particular question had lingered in his mind for days. He knew there'd come a point when hiding the pregnancy would become nearly impossible. And he wasn't keen on her overusing a glamour charm just to maintain secrecy; it felt too risky.
The healer sighed thoughtfully. "I wish I could give you a precise answer, but unfortunately, I can't. Every pregnancy is different; some start showing earlier, while others take longer. Generally speaking, by six months, it does become challenging to hide without aid."
Draco nodded, digesting this new timeline with a frown. "And will using glamours on her stomach affect the baby at all?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.
Healer Zane offered a reassuring smile. "When performed properly, a glamour charm should be harmless to both mother and baby. It's a safe practice as long as Hermione doesn't overextend herself."
Hermione exhaled, relieved. Draco's hand squeezed hers under the table, his tension visibly melting. The healer gave them both a warm smile as he stood, reminding them to set up their next appointment at the front desk. "And remember, Hermione," he said, his tone now one of gentle caution, "every little change can impact your pregnancy. Don't hesitate to come in if you notice anything unusual."
With that, they made their way to the receptionist, Draco stealing one last glance at her slowly growing abdomen, his heart thumping in a mixture of anticipation and protectiveness.
They slipped from the hospital and apparated back to the Ministry, unsurprisingly garnering the attention of the other workers. They hurried through the crowds, trying, and failing, to stay unnoticed. And just their luck, they bumped into the one person Hermione wouldn't hesitate to Avada.
"Oh, what a surprise!" Skeeter exclaimed, her voice like nails on a chalkboard for them both. She looked the couple up and down behind her rectangular spectacles, circling them a few times with a predatory smirk.
"I haven't seen you two out and about for a while. Have you been avoiding me?" she pouted ignoring Draco's agitated sigh and Hermione's murderous scowl.
"Not now, Skeeter," Draco grumbled.
Skeeter's over-made-up face split into a suspicious grin.
"What's the hurry?," she cooed. "I received your very lovely invitation. I can't wait. What a story this will be," she said, beady eyes glinting evilly and her over-plucked eyebrow arching higher than the Ministry ceilings.
Hermione was three seconds away from clawing Skeeter's eyes out and Draco knew this, he too, not far from hexing her. He grabbed her hand and pulled them off into the throngs of people leaving Skeeter grinning like a Cheshire. Draco took them all the way to his office and slammed the door behind him. Hermione paced back and forth, livid. He leaned on his sandalwood desk, feeling the irritation leave him in the solace of the room.
"Granger-"
"What are we going to do about her, Malfoy?" she asked suddenly.
"She's not going to leave us alone and it's only going to get worse. Hell, what if she's put a tail on us?"
"Probably already has, that slimy bitch," Hermione muttered nastily.
"Granger," he said again.
"Who the hell does she think she is?" she roared.
"Stalking us in an alley, spreading her ludicrous rumours, uprooting our lives and harassing us at the Ministry! What if she gets us fired? What if Snyde decides that we're bringing in too much attention? She's done enough! I cannot lose my job too! How would we support the baby?"
Draco snorted. Money would literally be the very least of their problems if either of them were to be terminated. At this point, Draco recognised she was starting to spiral- dreaming up every bad thing that could happen because she didn't know what else to do. He couldn't blame her. He was barely keeping it together and he wasn't even the one growing a child.
"Hermione," Draco said firmly, effectively stopping her by the use of her first name.
"Breathe," he commanded gently, his voice low and smooth, almost a whisper. She paused, her eyes raking over him, lingering on the way his shirt clung to his torso, accentuating every muscle beneath. The tension between them crackled in the air, charged with an electric energy that had nothing to do with anger.
Her gaze flickered to his lips, full and inviting, as if daring her to lean in closer. The softness in his tone belied the dominance he exuded, making her pulse race. She felt a heat creeping up her neck, igniting a fire deep within her that had been smoldering beneath the surface.
"Granger?" he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice. She took a step closer, invading his space, his presence overwhelming yet thrilling. She could feel the warmth radiating off him, enveloping her like a forbidden embrace.
"Yes?" she breathed, the word barely escaping her lips, laced with a mix of defiance and intrigue. She couldn't help but notice how his eyes sparkled with mischief, the corner of his mouth quirking up as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on her.
He leaned in even further, his breath brushing against her ear, sending shivers down her spine. The challenge hung between them, heavy and tantalizing. She could feel her heart racing, caught in the throes of temptation, as the lines between anger and desire blurred.
Before he knew it, she pounced on him. Her lips connecting roughly with his causing the desk to dig into the back of his thighs. Her lips and teeth gnashed and sucked on the smooth skin of his neck making him groan.
She started on his shirt buttons, quickly moving to his belt buckle where she undid it in record time. Just as she was about to push down his trousers, Draco caught her hands and held them behind her back.
"You're on thin ice, Granger," he whispered huskily.
"Please," she breathed wantonly. That was all he needed to hear. Not missing a beat, he spun them around and laid her face down on the desk. He pushed up her red pencil skirt, savouring the feeling of her ass in his hands. He kicked apart her legs and peeled away her thong, letting it pool around her ankles.
"Malfoy!" she demanded, already impatient.
He smirked as he pushed down his slacks a little more and locked her arm behind her before roughly thrusting into her. They moaned in unison as his pelvis hammered against her backside, pushing the desk a little further each time and scattering the neatly stacked documents.
"Wait, Malfoy, the- the door," Hermione huffed through mewls. He leaned over and traced his hot tongue up her neck.
"Fuck the door," he growled in her ear.
He stood back up and brought her with him until her back was flush with his bare chest. She allowed her head to fall onto his shoulder where he could see every pleasure-filled expression she made. He pounded mercilessly into her, spurred on by every breathy moan, lip bite and hiss.
Her eyes flew open meeting Draco's dark, unwavering gaze as her core burned. Any coherent thought was beyond her and his eyes alone shot her to her peak. Her knees buckled as bliss rippled through her being as a long, satyric whine was pulled from her throat. She folded over, making Draco bottom out causing him to finally succumb.
Hermione laid down on the desk, her legs no longer doing her any good while Draco had his hands on either side of her, holding himself up as he recovered.
"Is this the first time we shagged since that night?" Hermione asked, still breathless. Draco removed himself from her and waved his hand to clean them up.
"I believe so…" he affirmed while putting himself back in order, a satiated smile sitting involuntarily on his face.
"Huh." Hermione finally stood and pulled down her skirt. She also began to resituate herself from their impromptu activity. "We should do that more often," she stated, a dazed grin pulling at her cheeks.
Draco smirked. "Definitely more often."