You will now see them referring to each other as Draco and Hermione outside dialogue some times.
I have also added a new section to chapter 7, as I realised I actually hadn't included a confrontation of their past between them... and that just didn't sit right with me. It comes right after Hermione asks Draco about his mother's wellbeing in chapter 7.
It was late afternoon, and Hermione was just settling down on the sofa with a cup of tea and a stack of papers from work. The fire crackled gently in the hearth, casting a warm glow across the living room. Rose was sitting on the floor nearby, contently colouring in one of her many magical creatures books, her little hums filling the quiet space. The cosy atmosphere was a welcome reprieve, a moment of calm after the whirlwind of thoughts that had been consuming Hermione for weeks now—thoughts of Draco, of their growing connection, and the confusing emotions that came with it.
But just as she lifted her cup to her lips, the fireplace roared to life, the green flames flaring high. Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She hadn't been expecting anyone. Her immediate thought was Draco, but when the tall figure stepped out of the Floo, shaking ash from his red hair, her heart sank.
Ron.
He looked different—more tired, perhaps, though still familiar in a way that made something twist uncomfortably in her chest. His appearance was both unexpected and unsettling, stirring emotions she thought she had buried long ago. They had been co-parenting in a distant, almost formal way, with Ron appearing only sporadically in Rose's life. But here he was, standing in the middle of her living room, as if nothing had changed.
"Mummy?" Rose's small voice broke the silence, and Hermione turned to see her daughter looking up with wide eyes. "Daddy's here!" Rose's face lit up with surprise and joy, but there was a tentative quality to it—almost as if she were waiting to see whether his arrival was real or just another fleeting visit.
"Hey, Rosebud," Ron said softly, his voice tinged with awkwardness as he knelt down, opening his arms for a hug. Rose hesitated for a moment, her small hands gripping her colouring book tightly. But then, as if some deep part of her couldn't resist, she dropped the book and rushed into his arms, burying her face in his chest.
Hermione watched them, her heart heavy with a complicated mix of emotions. It had been days—no, weeks —since Ron had last seen Rose. She had grown accustomed to his absence, to the way he flitted in and out of their lives. But seeing him here now, with Rose clinging to him, a flood of memories and unresolved feelings surged to the surface.
Ron stood, lifting Rose into his arms, though his gaze flickered to Hermione. "Hermione," he greeted, his voice cautious.
Hermione nodded stiffly, setting her tea aside. "Ron," she replied, trying to keep her voice neutral, though a storm was brewing inside her.
There was an awkward silence that followed, and Rose, sensing the tension, shifted uncomfortably in Ron's arms. "Daddy, are you staying for dinner?" she asked, her voice full of hope, her little face upturned towards him.
Ron hesitated, glancing briefly at Hermione before answering. "I, uh... I was hoping we could spend some time together," he said, his words clumsy, as if he hadn't thought them through.
Hermione's heart tightened at the sight of Rose's hopeful expression, and something inside her cracked. She had worked so hard to make sure Rose didn't feel the absence of her father too sharply, but Ron's sporadic appearances only served to remind her of what they were missing. And now, with Draco becoming more a part of their lives, everything felt even more complicated.
She stood up, folding her arms across her chest as she faced Ron. "It's been a while, Ron," she said, her tone sharper than she intended. "Rose hasn't seen you in weeks."
Ron winced, shifting uncomfortably as he set Rose down on the floor. "I know. I've been busy with work, and—" He paused, running a hand through his hair, his expression tightening with guilt. "I'm trying, Hermione. I want to make things right. For Rose."
Hermione's jaw clenched as she watched him, her emotions swirling. She wanted to believe him—she wanted to believe that he was sincere, that he would be there for their daughter like she had always hoped. But after so many broken promises, it was hard to let go of the resentment that had built up over time. And now, with Draco...
Draco.
The thought of him made everything feel more confusing. He had been present for Rose in ways Ron hadn't, slowly filling a void she hadn't expected. And yet, Ron was her daughter's father. There was a bond there that Draco could never replace, no matter how much he cared for Rose. But that didn't erase the fact that Hermione's feelings for Draco had been growing, too, adding another layer of conflict she wasn't ready to confront.
"I don't want this to be another fleeting visit, Ron," Hermione said, her voice firmer now. "Rose deserves more than that."
Ron sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I know," he admitted, his voice quiet. "I've... I've messed up. But I'm here now, and I want to spend time with her."
Hermione bit her lip, torn between the desire to protect Rose from more disappointment and the hope that maybe—just maybe—Ron was finally ready to step up. She glanced down at Rose, who was watching both of them with wide, curious eyes, her small hand clutching the hem of Ron's jumper.
"Can we play a game, Daddy?" Rose asked, her voice breaking through the silent argument between the adults.
Ron smiled, though it was tinged with a hint of sadness. "Yeah, Rosebud," he said softly, ruffling her hair. "Let's play a game."
Hermione watched as they moved to the floor, Rose already reaching for her set of magical creature cards, her excitement bubbling over now that her father was here. But as she watched them, her heart felt heavy. She wanted this—for Rose to have her father in her life—but the wounds between her and Ron still ran deep. And with Draco becoming more intertwined with their world, she couldn't shake the feeling that something had irrevocably shifted.
The sound of Rose's laughter filled the room, and Hermione forced a small smile, though her mind was far from settled. She wasn't sure where this left her, or what it meant for her growing feelings for Draco. All she knew was that her life had suddenly become far more complicated than she had anticipated, and she didn't know how to untangle the threads.
The next day, Saturday morning, Hermione was sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea and staring blankly at the newspaper in front of her. The day felt strangely quiet without Rose's usual chatter filling the space. When Ron had shown up the day before, surprising her by wanting to spend the Saturday with their daughter. He had taken Rose with him to his new home so she could spend time with her baby half-brother and get better acquainted with Susan. It had been a bittersweet moment for Hermione—while she was glad Ron was finally making the effort, it stirred a mixture of emotions that left her feeling unsettled.
She pushed the teacup away slightly, sighing. She hadn't expected to have the day to herself, and now, without Rose, the flat felt emptier than usual. Her mind drifted back to the events of the previous evening, the look of hope on Rose's face when Ron had promised to spend more time with her, and the conflicted feelings that stirred within her. And then, of course, there was Draco. She hadn't told him about Ron's sudden reappearance, and the thought of what it might mean for them left her feeling more confused than ever.
Before she could dwell on it further, the sound of the Floo roaring to life echoed from the living room. Hermione blinked in surprise, not expecting any visitors, and stood to see who it was. A familiar figure emerged from the green flames—Draco, brushing a bit of soot from his dark coat, looking casual yet stylish as always.
"Draco?" Hermione said, startled but pleased to see him. "I wasn't expecting you."
Draco straightened, a small, genuine smile on his face as he approached. "I thought I'd stop by," he said, his grey eyes warm but a hint of something else—anticipation, perhaps—lingered behind them. "I was thinking, with the snow and the festive atmosphere, maybe you and Rose would like to come to Diagon Alley with me today. I know how much she enjoys all the Christmas decorations."
Hermione felt her heart sink slightly, guilt swirling in her chest as she watched the hope flicker across his face. She hadn't told Draco about Ron's plans, and now she could see the disappointment looming as the truth settled in. She forced a small, apologetic smile.
"Draco, I—" She hesitated, feeling the weight of his gaze on her. "Rose isn't here today. Ron came by yesterday and took her with him. She's spending the day with him at his home, meeting her new brother and getting to know Susan a bit more."
Draco's expression faltered for a brief moment, the flicker of disappointment clear in his eyes before he quickly masked it with a neutral look. But Hermione could see it—could feel the slight shift in the air between them. He had been looking forward to spending time with Rose, and now that opportunity had been taken away, leaving a sense of frustration he didn't seem to know how to express.
"I see," Draco said quietly, his voice a little more restrained than usual. He looked away for a second, his jaw tightening as he took in the news. "That's... good for her, I suppose. It's important for her to spend time with him."
Hermione nodded, though she could feel the strain building in her own chest. "Yes," she agreed softly. "It is."
There was a pause, the silence between them stretching out as they both stood there, unsure of how to navigate this sudden shift. Hermione could sense Draco's disappointment, but it was more than that—it was the unspoken feelings that had been building between them for weeks, the pressure that seemed to be pulling them closer even as everything else around them became more complicated.
"Draco," she said, her voice soft but full of intent. He looked up, meeting her gaze, his expression guarded. "Would you... like to stay? Or, if you prefer, we could go out. Just the two of us." The words felt bold coming out of her mouth, and she wasn't entirely sure where they had come from. She wanted to ease the awkwardness, but more than that, she wanted to spend time with him—away from all the complications.
Draco hesitated for only a brief moment, his grey eyes searching hers, as if weighing the offer. Then, to Hermione's surprise, a small smile curved on his lips. "Yes," he said, his voice soft but firm. "I'd like that."
Hermione felt a flutter in her chest, a mixture of relief and something warmer, deeper, stirring within her. "All right," she replied, her own smile growing as she stepped toward the hallway. "Let me just grab my coat."
She moved quickly, her heart still pounding from the sudden turn of events. As she pulled on her coat, a cosy, woollen one in deep green, she tried to steady her breathing. This isn't a date, she told herself firmly. But even as the thought crossed her mind, a part of her—the part that had grown closer to Draco over the past few weeks—wondered if maybe it was something more.
When she returned to the living room, Draco was standing by the fireplace, his hands in his coat pockets, looking as casual as ever. But there was something different in his posture, a hint of anticipation that hadn't been there before. Hermione felt her cheeks flush slightly, though she couldn't say why.
"All set?" Draco asked, his voice carrying that familiar dry humour that always seemed to ease the tension.
"Yes," Hermione replied, pulling her scarf tight around her neck. "Let's go."
They stepped out of her flat and walked through the crisp December air toward the nearest apparition point. The streets were quiet, with only a few Muggle passers-by, and the cold nipped at Hermione's cheeks as they walked side by side. The nearness of Draco, his presence steady and solid, made her feel... strangely comfortable, despite the suspense bubbling just beneath the surface.
As they reached the small alleyway where they would Apparate, Hermione turned to him, her breath visible in the cold air. "Ready?" she asked, her voice light.
Draco nodded, his eyes meeting hers with that quiet intensity she was beginning to recognise. "Always," he replied.
In the next moment, they Apparated, the familiar feeling of being pulled through space and time enveloping them. When they reappeared, the bustling, festive streets of Diagon Alley greeted them, filled with twinkling lights, bustling witches and wizards, and the unmistakable scent of roasted chestnuts and mulled wine in the air.
Diagon Alley was alive with Christmas spirit. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, settling on the cobbled streets and rooftops, while the shop windows glowed with warm lights and festive decorations. The familiar hum of magic filled the air, and for a moment, the heavy tension between them seemed to lighten in the face of the holiday atmosphere.
Hermione took in the sight with a smile, her worries momentarily forgotten. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said, glancing at Draco as they began to walk down the street.
"It is," Draco agreed, though his eyes weren't on the decorations or the bustling shops. Instead, he was watching her.
As they strolled through Diagon Alley, past the shop windows twinkling with lights and the magical decorations hanging overhead, Hermione felt a sense of ease creeping into the space between them. It was strange, she thought, how quickly Draco had become someone she felt comfortable with—someone she wanted to spend time with, not just for Rose's sake, but for her own.
They stopped briefly at one of the market stalls selling enchanted ornaments, and Hermione reached out to touch a delicate, floating bauble that shimmered with a soft golden glow. Draco stood beside her, his hands in his pockets, watching her with that quiet, observant look he always had.
"I've always liked this time of year," Hermione said softly, more to herself than to Draco. "There's something about Christmas... it's magical, even without the magic." She chuckled lightly, running her fingers over the glass ornament.
Draco's eyes softened as he watched her. "It suits you," he said quietly.
Hermione turned to him, her brow furrowed slightly. "What does?"
"Christmas," Draco replied, his voice low and sincere. "The way you light up when you talk about it. It suits you."
The words caught her off guard, and for a moment, Hermione didn't know how to respond. She wasn't used to this—wasn't used to the way Draco could sometimes see right through her, past the walls she'd built up.
"Thank you," she finally said, her voice a little softer than she intended.
Draco offered a small smile, but his eyes lingered on hers a moment longer before they continued walking.
They wandered through Diagon Alley, the magical streets bustling with holiday cheer, but Hermione could still sense Draco's underlying disappointment. His usual guarded demeanour was intact, but she knew him well enough by now to notice the small signs—the way his shoulders were just a little more tense, the way he kept glancing at families passing by, as though reminded of Rose's absence.
They stopped at a small stand selling hot cocoa, the rich smell of chocolate mingling with the crisp winter air. The vendor, a friendly older witch, handed them steaming mugs, enchanted to stay warm in the cold. Hermione took a grateful sip, letting the warmth spread through her fingers and chest, but when she glanced at Draco, his eyes were distant, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.
She sighed, biting her lip. He's still upset Rose isn't here, she thought, watching as Draco absently took a sip from his mug.
Trying to lighten the mood, she nudged him gently with her elbow. "You know," she began with a smile, "Rose has a grand plan for tomorrow's brunch. She's declared it will be Christmas-themed."
Draco raised an eyebrow, turning to her with a flicker of interest. "Christmas-themed?" he repeated, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "What exactly does that entail?"
"Well," Hermione chuckled, taking another sip of her cocoa, "according to Rose, we're all supposed to wear Christmas jumpers. And I've been informed that the pancakes should be in the shape of snowmen or reindeer— obviously ."
Draco's smile widened, though there was still a hint of that earlier wariness lingering. "Pancakes shaped like reindeer? Sounds ambitious."
"You haven't seen how determined she can be when it comes to Christmas food," Hermione teased, her tone light and playful. "You're lucky she hasn't asked you to come dressed as Father Christmas."
Draco let out a low laugh, and Hermione felt a bit of the heaviness lift from the air between them. "I'm not sure I'm ready to embrace Father Christmas quite yet," he said dryly, though his tone was more relaxed now.
They finished their cocoa as they continued to walk, the festive decorations twinkling overhead and the hum of the crowd buzzing around them. But Hermione could still sense something weighing on Draco, despite the banter they had shared.
After a few more minutes of walking, she stopped them, turning to face him. Draco looked at her curiously, his brows knitting slightly as if wondering what was wrong.
"Draco," she began, her voice softer now, "I know today didn't go as planned. And I can tell it bothers you that Rose isn't here."
He opened his mouth to respond, but Hermione held up a hand, stopping him. She reached for his hand, her fingers curling around his, and the warmth of his touch steadied her.
"I need you to know," she continued, her eyes meeting his, "how important you are to Rose. I've never seen her bond with someone the way she has with you." Her voice wavered slightly, her emotions rising to the surface. "She talks about you constantly, Draco. And... she looks up to you in ways I didn't expect."
Draco's face softened, and for a moment, he seemed almost taken aback by her words. He stared at her, the strain in his posture slowly easing, though a flicker of something vulnerable passed across his expression.
"I was worried," Hermione went on, her voice steady despite the rush of emotions she felt. "I didn't know how Rose would handle everything with Ron, with him being so distant. But you've been there for her. And you've become... someone she cares about deeply." She hesitated, feeling the weight of what she was about to say. "She needs you, Draco. And so do I."
Hermione watched Draco for a moment, seeing the way her words seemed to reach him. The apprehension that had been hanging between them melted away, replaced by something deeper, something far more significant than she had anticipated. She could see it in his eyes—the way he absorbed what she'd said, the way it softened his expression, breaking down the barriers he always seemed to keep so tightly in place.
Then, without warning, he reached up and gently cupped her face in his hands. The warmth of his touch startled her, sending a shiver through her that had nothing to do with the cold air around them. Hermione's breath caught in her throat, and her heart skipped a beat as she looked up at him. The bustling noise of Diagon Alley faded into the background, the lights and snow blurring around them until all she could focus on was him.
Draco leaned in, his movements slow and deliberate, and when his lips finally brushed against hers, it felt like the world had stopped. The kiss was soft, filled with emotion that had been building between them for weeks—months, even. Hermione felt herself melt into him, the warmth of his lips chasing away the lingering chill of the evening. Her hand instinctively tightened around his, grounding her in the moment as she lost herself in the sensation.
For a few precious seconds, it was just them—no complicated history, no unresolved emotions about Ron—just the two of them in the quiet, intimate space they had created.
When Draco finally pulled away, Hermione opened her eyes slowly, her heart still fluttering in her chest. His expression had softened completely, and there was something in his gaze that made her feel vulnerable and safe all at once. She smiled at him, unable to help herself, as a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the cocoa or the holiday lights surrounding them.
Draco's thumb gently brushed her cheek, and she squeezed his hand, grounding herself in the moment. The connection between them felt real—tangible—and for the first time, she wasn't afraid of where it might lead.
"Thank you," Draco murmured, his voice soft but filled with sincerity. "For saying that."
Hermione's heart swelled at his words, and she nodded, still feeling the aftershocks of the kiss. "You're welcome," she whispered. "I meant every word."
They stood there for another heartbeat, their hands still entwined, before they continued their walk through the snow-covered streets, hand in hand, unaware that someone had captured their moment of vulnerability in the background.
Draco and Hermione apparated back to her flat, the familiar surroundings instantly warm and welcoming after the bustle of Diagon Alley. Hermione flicked her wand casually, and the bags of takeaway from the Leaky Cauldron floated gently onto the coffee table. Draco followed her to the living room, sitting down on the floor next to her as they began to unpack the food.
The atmosphere between them had been light after their earlier kiss, a comfortable warmth settling in as they ate. Their legs brushed against each other under the table, an innocent touch that neither seemed to pull away from, though the contact sent a small jolt of awareness through Draco. He could feel the agitation that had built earlier ease, though something still lingered in the back of his mind.
They had just started eating when the air in the room shifted, and a glowing, silver patronus appeared—a large dog. Ron's voice echoed through the flat, his familiar tone cutting into the peaceful moment.
"Rose would like to stay until Sunday morning. If that's fine with you, let me know."
Hermione sat up straighter, her brow furrowing slightly as she cast a quick glance at Draco. He could feel his mood darken slightly, a tightness forming in his chest, though he kept his expression neutral. Hermione didn't waste any time as she cast her own patronus—a graceful otter, shimmering silver in the dim room. She spoke softly, sending her message back through the ethereal creature.
"That's fine," she said, her voice calm but with an edge of finality. "But she has to be home by ten in the morning."
Draco knew exactly why. He usually came over around eleven on Sundays, and it was their unofficial brunch time with Rose. The thought of missing out on that time with Rose, of Weasley encroaching further into his role in her life, made something irrational flare up inside him. It wasn't about Ron being her father—it was about how easily Hermione had agreed, how quickly she had let Rose slip further into Ron's grasp, leaving Draco on the outside.
He didn't mean to sound curt, but the words slipped out before he could stop them. "You're fine with this?"
Hermione blinked, clearly surprised. "Of course I am," she replied, her brow furrowing slightly. "Ron's her father, Draco. It's good that he's finally making an effort."
Draco set his fork down, trying to rein in the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "But it's not planned, Hermione. He just decides he wants to see her and expects everything to shift around his schedule," he said, his tone sharper than he intended. "It's not fair to Rose, or to you."
Hermione's eyes narrowed, her posture straightening defensively. "What exactly do you mean by that?" she asked, her voice hardening with a tinge of annoyance. "Ron is her father. He has a right to spend time with her."
Draco exhaled, struggling to keep his composure. "I'm not saying he doesn't," he said, his voice lower but tense. "But he comes and goes when it suits him. You've got a routine with Rose, and suddenly he shows up, throws everything off, and you just have to accommodate him. It feels like he's calling the shots whenever he wants."
Hermione's face tightened, her eyes flashing with frustration. "And what exactly do you expect me to do?" she shot back. "He's her father. Yes, he's been inconsistent, but he's trying now. I'm not going to deny Rose that."
"I'm not asking you to deny her anything," Draco muttered, avoiding her gaze as the knot of frustration twisted in his chest. "But it wouldn't hurt if he planned ahead, instead of dropping in last minute like this. It's as if everything revolves around when he feels like being a dad."
Hermione cut him off before he could continue, her voice rising in defence. "So, what? I should make it harder for Rose to see him? Do you think that would make her happier?"
Draco clenched his jaw, knowing the argument was going nowhere. "That's not what I'm saying," he murmured, but the tension between them had already thickened. He could see that Hermione was hurt, defensive, and he realised too late that he had crossed a line.
"This isn't for you to decide, Draco," Hermione said firmly, her voice softening but still edged with frustration. "Ron is her father, and I have to consider what's best for Rose. You might not like the way things are, but you don't get to decide how her time with him works."
Draco clenched his jaw, feeling the tenseness between them reach its peak. He knew that staying here, arguing with Hermione, would only make things worse. He didn't want to push her away, didn't want to ruin what they had built, but right now, everything felt too raw, too close to the surface.
"I should go," he said abruptly, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off his coat. "Before we say something we both regret."
Hermione's eyes softened slightly, though her expression was still guarded. "Draco, I don't want this to become an issue between us," she said, her voice quieter now, less sharp. "But Ron is always going to be a part of Rose's life."
"I know," Draco replied, though the jealousy still simmered under his skin. He walked over to her, hesitating for a moment before he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, Granger."
Hermione nodded, her face softening a little at the gesture. "Take care, Draco."
And with that, Draco stepped into the Floo, the familiar green flames engulfing him as he disappeared from Hermione's flat. As he returned to the quiet, cold halls of Malfoy Manor, the knot in his chest remained, unresolved and heavy. He knew he had no right to feel this way, no right to be jealous of Ron's presence in Rose's life. But the thought of being pushed further away from the bond he had formed with her—and with Hermione—gnawed at him more than he wanted to admit.
I mean it can't be happy and fluffy all the time right?