Two years later
The house is quiet, except for the steady crackling of the fireplace and the occasional rustling of parchment as Draco flips through a book. Outside, snow falls softly against the windowpane covering the world in a blanket of white. Its peaceful, safe, everything Hermione once thought she’d never have.
From the next room a soft noise breaks the silence--- Hermione’s voice strained but warm. Draco is on his feet instantly, moving to where she sits in their bedroom, hands cradling her swollen belly. She exhales slowly her free hand gripping the arm of the chair.
“False alarm”. She breathes with a tired laugh, looking up at him. “Or at least, I think so.”
Draco doesn’t say anything at first, just kneels in front of her and rests a hand over hers. “You scared me, love.”
She smiles—soft, real, unburdened. “I’m okay. Were okay.”
And they are.
They went through hell to get here, but now, in this warm little home filled with peace instead of fear, love instead of control, Hermione is exactly where she’s meant to be. And when the real moment comes—when she brings their child into the world—Draco will be right beside her, just like he’s been from the moment she ran to him.
Not because she needed saving.
But because for the first time, she’s free to choose-and she chose him.