Draco the Father
When Hermione woke again, she found a wan-looking Malfoy sitting in the plastic chair at her bedside. Ginny, Luna, and Willa were gone. Hermione cast a tempus charm. It was nearly two in the morning.
Her mouth was dry and her hair was in wild tangles around her head. She could feel the sweat as it dripped down her skin. Malfoy, who was reading some papers, a pair of reading glasses falling down the slope of his nose, hadn’t noticed that she had woken.
“Malfoy,” Hermione whispered, so as not to startle him.
“Hmm,” He said, pen leaving the hollow between his lips. “How are you feeling, Granger?”
“Stiff,” She moaned, “and sweaty.”
Malfoy cast a cooling charm on her before casting a few other charms to help ease her discomfort. “I spoke to Nott,” he said, voice soft.
Hermione’s eyes were wide, “About?”
“A little of this and that,” He replied. “He does genuinely seem concerned for your health and safety.”
Hermione raised a brow at him, incredulous, “Did you think my boyfriend wouldn’t be concerned with my health and wellbeing?”
Malfoy didn’t meet her eyes, instead conjuring something delicious for her to eat from a takeaway place near the hospital. “I hope Thai will do it for you tonight, Granger. Stasis charm kept it warm.”
She had to hold back a smile as she pulled out her favorites from the bag – tofu pad thai, and peanut chicken on a skewer. “Malfoy, you shouldn’t spoil me.”
“I didn’t,” he said gruffly. “That was Nott’s doing.”
Her smile stiffened. She should have known that it was her actual boyfriend who knew what she would want to eat.
“Don’t hex the messenger,” Malfoy replied, “I just wanted you to know that while I don’t trust Nott as far as I can throw him, if he’s in your life, and by extension, my daughter’s life, I will do my best to tolerate him.”
She wondered what he was thinking. His eyes were distant, almost glassy.
“Thank you, both, then.” Hermione murmured. She reached across the hospital bed, towards him. He didn’t recoil from her as she drew near, but Hermione couldn’t tell if he was breathing. She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. “I don’t know that I deserve your kindness, Malfoy, but I thank you for it anyway.”
Malfoy reddened, his blush coloring his moonlight complexion a rosy pink. He didn’t respond, instead, he went back to his reading.
Hermione ate. She was as happy as she could be, at the moment, she supposed. She did not blame Theodore for this — as much as she knew Malfoy would want her to. Her Teddy would not have purposefully inflicted this sort of damage at her.
Or had he known?
Hermione tried to push the thoughts from her mind. If Theo had known, he wouldn’t have risked her life.
Had she been feeling off, lately? What about Theo? Had he been any more unusual lately?
She thought back to the return to England, but other than Theo’s outburst in the car leaving Malfoy Manor, she hadn’t noticed anything different from him. He had been hot and cold with her, the night his mother died. But his mother died.
Oh.
She wondered for a moment — had the late Lady Nott already been dead when the house elf retrieved Hermione and Theo? She suddenly couldn’t fathom why the funeral arrangements were taking as long as they were. It had been a long few weeks, she supposed. But surely that was enough time for Theo to have the arrangements made?
Hermione pondered this as she chewed her peanut chicken, the salty and sweet tastes mixing gently with the spice at the back of her tongue. She would have killed for a little lime juice and tonic water.
Was she pregnant? The weird craving had her question for a moment — but no, the mediwitches would have told her. And Theo was convinced that he couldn’t have children, anyway.
“Malfoy,” Hermione interrupted his reading. “Have you decided what you intend to do about Willa?’ She wasn’t sure why she was even asking at this point — hadn’t this very same conversation already been a trigger for them?
Malfoy looked up from his papers, swallowing visibly. “I have come to a decision,” He replied, his tone more formal than she ever remembered hearing it before.
When he said nothing else, she cleared her throat. She put the takeaway containers on the side table next to her. “Do you want to share your decision? The fate of my daughter and I?”
Malfoy looked a little green as he made eye contact with her, “I intend to make Willa my heir, Granger. I think deep down, I always intended to make her my heir.”
Hermione nodded.
Malfoy looked uncomfortable with her sudden silence. “How does that make you feel?”
Hermione scoffed playfully, “What are you, my mindhealer?”
“If you wanted me to be,” Draco almost whispered. His voice was so earnest, the tips of his ears burned vibrant red. He said nothing else and went back to his papers.
“Draco,” Hermione called, sounding out the way that the vowels sat on her tongue. Heat flooded her cheeks. “I think I ought to call the father of my child by his given name,” She spat out quickly, embarassed.
Malfoy looked pleased with this, “I will still call you Granger,” He chuckled. “Maybe we will graduate to Hermione, some day.”
Hermione couldn’t recall if he had ever said her name before, but she found that she quite liked the way that it rolled off his tongue. His accent was significantly less posh than she remembered, but still aristocratic in that pureblood way. Hermione knew this as old money from her Muggle childhood, or even blueblooded from her crime dramas she liked to watch while she was pregnant with Willa.
She didn’t notice how his eyes had strayed away from the papers in front of him and onto her until it was too late, she was caught — watching him, studying him.
Her heart fluttered in her chest, a low pang in her belly battered its way lower.
No. She told herself. They had gone there once before, and while her child was the greatest blessing of her life, she had no intentions to go there with Draco again.
She had a bloody boyfriend, she reminded herself. Perhaps a boyfriend who would put her in harms way?
No. No.
No.
That wasn’t Theo.
She banished the thoughts of both Malfoy and Theo from her mind — it was late in the evening. She was starting to get sleepy again. “You don’t have to stay overnight, Malfoy.” She said softly, pushing back into the pillows. “I’m sure your bed misses you.”
Malfoy grumbled unintelligble nonsense at her.
“When do you think the cursebreakers will know if it was my ring?” Hermione asked him, honey-brown eyes closed. She couldn’t tell if he was looking at her while he pondered this answer.
“Granger,” He said softly. “It’s not the ring.”
Hermione couldn’t help but stifle a sob.
If it wasn’t the ring, and it wasn’t a lingering dark magic she had accidentally washed up, was it Theo?