Waking Up

Hermione took a deep breath in, trying her damndest to remain composed before knocking on Malfoy’s (Draco’s ?) door. Her day had sucked. More so than the day Draco… (Malfoy ?)... almost died. 

Did die. 

Or when he had woken up and she realized he had false memories. That day had sucked too. But they pale in comparison to today. 

Malfoy’s (or, Draco’s) — Merlin, she didn’t know what to call him anymore, he had been so hurt and crushed when she used his last name but every time she said his first name he looked even more pained— Malfoy or Draco, Draco or Malfoy, either way, it turned out that his memory problems went deep— Five years deep. 

Practically a whole life he insisted was real but wasn’t. Yet it was mixed and mingled with real events. Like Teddy's sixth birthday when he had bought him his first broom and smugly held it over Harry's head before Harry bought him an even better broom the following Christmas. 

But most of it, especially pertaining to her, had never happened. And she was at odds with herself. There he was, desperately and painfully loving her. Unconditionally. Only, it wasn’t real… and she had to take a step back. He loved her, she didn’t question that, but he loved a version of her that didn’t exist. 

And bloody hell, did that hurt. 

So much so.

There had been a debate in the beginning, about whether Hermione should play along and pretend to be his wife. She shot it down instantly. Not only because it was morally and ethically wrong but also because her own heart wouldn’t be able to handle it. Because she loved him. She had for a long time now, she just never allowed herself to admit it. Now that she had, it wasn’t like she could neatly package those feelings back up and stuff them away somewhere.  

She loved Draco Malfoy… her Draco Malfoy. 

But he didn’t love her. Not the real her anyways. He loved a dream version, and she would never be able to live up to that. She already wasn’t. Not to mention, it made no sense pretending to go along with it when he also believed they had children. There was no way to explain that away, not for long periods of time, and she just wouldn’t… couldn’t do it.

And the more his brain was analyzed, tested, and studied, the more she realized she was doing more harm than good to him by staying so present in his life. Lucius had been right during the third week of treatment when he spat at her that she would never be able to fix his mind if she didn’t first let him go. 

So she did. It pained her, almost broke her, but it was for the best.

In those early days, Hermione had felt a constant whirlwind of emotions. Every time she saw him, her heart would twist in her chest. His eyes, filled with so much love and confusion, tore at her. The moments when he looked at her with such longing and conviction that they shared a life together, were the hardest. 

He would recount memories that never happened: their wedding day, the birth of their children, intimate moments that she had never experienced but he remembered in vivid details. And it was those details that made her realize how deeply his mind had been altered. He spoke of their children's names, their first steps, and their favorite bedtime stories. His recounting was so precise, so filled with genuine emotion, that it was impossible not to be affected.

The team of healers and mind experts worked tirelessly, but progress was slow. Draco’s insistence on the reality of his memories was unyielding. The more they tried to probe and adjust, the more resistant he became. Hermione had watched him with a heavy heart, feeling powerless and frustrated. She had always been able to solve problems, to find answers. But this… this was beyond her.

Every night she went home, exhausted and emotionally drained. She would sit by the fireplace, staring into the flames, replaying the day’s events in her mind. She could hear Lucius’s words, still echoing in her ears, reminding her of her failures. "You’ll never be able to fix his mind if you don’t let him go."

His accusations had stung deeply, and his disdain for her was clear. But even through his venomous words, there was a painful truth. She was holding on too tightly, unable to separate her emotions from her duty. 

And so, with a heavy heart, she made the decision to step back. It was the hardest thing she had ever done, but it was necessary. She distanced herself from Draco, allowing the team to take the lead. She focused on other patients, threw herself into her work, her research, but the void left by his absence was ever-present.

She had tried to scale back her visits, but Draco had taken notice almost immediately and confronted her. His words also played on a loop in her brain as though he had only spoken them to her yesterday. “Is the idea of loving me really that horrible to you that you can’t even stand to be in my presence?” 

His eyes had searched hers for answers she couldn’t give. Because it wasn’t horrible at all. She did love him, but she couldn’t be the dream version of her. And it was that that pained her most. 

But she couldn’t tell him any of that. She couldn’t give him any false hope if she ever wanted him to get better. So she didn’t say anything. Which had hurt him probably more than if she had said something. 

Anything. 

In her silence he had looked at her with such devastation that she almost broke right there. But she held on, knowing that this was for the best.

She stepped back further, and then she stopped all together. Handing his treatment off to another Healer, a team of them. She was still his Proxy and Point of Contact, so she was updated on everything. But she no longer visited. No longer checked on his progress in person. 

The false memories were intricately woven with real ones, making them difficult to untangle. The process was painstakingly slow and required delicate handling to avoid causing further damage. It had been hard and his progress had been…. almost nonexistent. It improved a bit when she stepped back completely, but according to the reports and later the letters from Narcissa, Draco’s mood had not improved at all. In fact, it had gotten worse. Violent at times.

She found herself thinking of him often. Every free moment, every slow day, or at night right before she fell asleep. So she kept herself busy, forced herself to think of something else, anything else. She threw herself into work. 

Long, grueling days. But nothing with the mental health research. It was too close to home for her, and she just couldn’t. So she focused on dark spells and curses instead. On runes and ancient magic. She brewed potion and restocked supplies until the Hospital quite literally couldn’t hold anymore, and then she brewed some more, donating to other places and facilities in need.

And it worked for the most part. Except for the moments right before she fell asleep, when she had nothing else to think about other than Draco and her heartbreak. Then she dreamed of him and the life he talked about. Of two faceless children with blonde curly hair. Shrilly toddler voices calling her mum and him dad. And she ached. With such a strong ache she was sure it would consume her. 

It was consuming her. She had never understood how people could die from broken hearts until now. She might not have been dying, but she certainly wasn’t living. Not really.

She was a mess. She knew it.

Especially now, as she knocked on his door, hating what she was here to do and why she was here to do it. Because everything still went through her and that meant that Hermione received a notice on her desk late one afternoon. It was a request for medical treatment, one Draco had filled out himself. Likely not knowing Hermione was going to see it. She picked it up, assuming it was a normal report like always, but stilled as she processed what it was and what it said.

At first, she had hope that Draco was getting more involved in his care, that he was trying, but he wasn’t. He was giving up. To the point he was putting in an official request for a memory reversal charm. He wanted to be obliviated. And he wanted it to go back six years. Not five, which was odd because all their research and testing had shown that his memories had started to fracture at five years, not six. Either way, she didn’t want him to do it.

Ultimately, it wasn’t her say, not if he was of sound mind. 

The question at present was if he was of sound mind. His father was arguing he was; his mother was arguing he was not. And Hermione could no longer avoid him because now it fell on her shoulders to determine. And, because she was the head of the Mental Health and Healing Department at St Mungo’s, it fell on her shoulders to be the one to perform it if Draco was declared of sound mind.

She wanted to be objective, impartial. She didn’t want to lose him in her life, but nothing said she would if they were wiping just six years away. She had still existed six years ago. They still knew each other then. They weren’t friends or really even acquaintances, but they were still in each other’s orbit. Surely something could still come from that…

She would be lying if she said that a couple of tears hadn’t snuck out of her eyes on the way there. She had to wipe at her face every time one of them had brushed the side of her mouth, leaving a tang of salt in its wake. Not that she had any right to cry. Which was the most frustrating part of all of this. 

She couldn’t blame anyone else but herself. She knew that, in part, it was her own damn fault that her heart kept hurting. She had been the one who hid her feelings for so long, she had fallen in love with him, she had finally admitted to those feelings. Just as she had been the one to decide to step back in hopes that he would stop hurting. That they both might be able to heal and move on. 

Apparently that was too hopeful. 

Releasing a shaky breath, she knocked on his door and waited for the moment her heart would inevitably break again. Because either way, she was losing him. He was either too damaged to be of sound mind, or he wasn’t and she would have to wipe herself from his memories. Either option felt like a slicing hex to her heart. 

The well oiled door opened without a sound, and a happy almost thankful Draco greeted her. “Welcome home love,” He leaned down and kissed her cheek before adding “why did you knock?”

“Home.”  She echoed, never in all her adult life had anyone ever greeted her so warmly. The tears she had wiped away so forcefully moments ago sprang back into her eyes and she had to look away. “I-I’m sorry, but this isn’t my home.” 

Curse her aching heart.

Curse her tears.

Curse the way his voice sounded when he said  “Oh.” the singular word pushed out as though he was choking on air, and she felt as though her heart would shatter at how disappointed he had sounded. “Right, yeah, I– I knew that. Sorry.” 

She lifted a shoulder, pretending to be unphased but positive she was failing at it. “Can I come in?” 

“Of course.” He quickly moved aside so she would walk past him and she immediately regretted it because Draco Malfoy’s flat was practically empty with only a few boxes scattered about and some cleaning supplies magically and diligently working at random spots throughout the living space. 

He was moving… 

No, that wasn’t right.

He was leaving. 

“Hermione,” he said, and she watched as he reached for her, almost instinctively before he remembered he wasn’t supposed to touch her. And that hurt her too. 

“Are you moving?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady because she already knew the answer. How could she not? It was so blatantly obvious. 

“Yes, once my memory is wiped, I’m leaving the country.”

Knowing he was going to say it didn’t soften the blow. “Where are you going?” she asked, her heart aching at the thought of losing him all over again.

He looked away. “I can’t tell you that.” She figured that too. But again, it didn’t hurt any less. 

“Why are you doing this?” she asked quietly, still trying to process that he not only wanted to wipe his memory of the last six years but planned on moving away too. Far away most likely.

“Because my fucking heart beats too hard!” He pushed out, stunning her with his words. He stunned himself too, if his facial expression was anything to go off of. 

But then he apologized, for the swear, and tried to soften his voice. “It beats so hard it hurts, Hermion—er—Granger.” He winced, and looked away, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“I-” he sighed, plowing rows through his hair with his fingers “Granger, I can’t breathe most of the time, and I can’t ask for help. Hell, I can’t even scream. All I can do is feel, and I do, Granger. I feel everything. All this pain, every fiber of it, in every bone and in every nerve.” he didn’t need to be looking at her for her to know he was crying. But she would afford him this small mercy and not look at him while he did. Things were already painful enough.

“I have this strange feeling that I’m not myself anymore.” He whispered. “Like I was fast asleep and someone came and disassembled me, hurriedly tried to put me back together again but screwed with the pieces or lost some of them along the way, I don’t know, but I fucking hate it.” and then he sobbed and she ached for him even more.

“Can’t you see how much I hate it?”

She could. She could see all of it because she hated it too. Merlin how she hated it. 

“I wish you would have let me die, Granger, or at the very least never woken me up.”

Gasping and not at all ashamed of how shrill her voice sounded in response to what he just said, Hermione asked “How can you say that?” 

“Because then I could have still been happy,” he roared before choking back another sob, but his eyes on hers now. Intense, unyielding, with a storm raging in their depths. “Back in a world where you were mine, and I was yours, and I so desperately wish you hadn’t taken that away from me.”

Tears filled Hermione’s eyes. She stepped closer, but he backed away, shaking his head. “Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t come any closer, I– I can’t.” Dragged out the last work like it physically pained him. 

“Draco,” He flinched and she quickly corrected “Malfoy, I’m sorry, I really am. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am–” 

“Sorry enough that you’ve been ignoring me? Or that you can’t even be in the same room as me anymore? Do you have any idea how much it hurts to love someone so completely and know that they don't love you back? That they can’t even stand you?” 

“Draco– um– Malfoy, I do love you.” 

“Just not the same way I love you, right?” 

She hesitated, not because he was wrong but because she wasn’t sure how to say it. If she even should. “Malfoy, you love that girl in your head. You do not love me. Those memories, those aren’t with me, they aren’t real.”

“Don’t!” He shouted and she swore she felt the walls around them shake “I remember it all! I know how your lips feel against mine, how our hands fit together. I know how you melt into me when I hold you, and what you smell like.” his voice broke a little and she could tell he wanted to say more on the subject but shook it away and changed course a bit with his next words. 

“I was there the day our children came into this world, I held them in my arms. I remember worrying when we left them alone with Harry for the first time. I remember the long nights where sleep never came because of teething, or gas and little tummy aches. I know what their cries sound like, which ones mean they are hungry, or tired, or in pain. I’ve listened as you sang them to sleep every night.” 

And because her heart hadn’t already suffered enough he started singing a song she was certain did not circulate amongst the mothers in the wizarding world. How he had heard it, or who had taught him, she wasn’t sure, but she knew the song and she knew it well. 

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. 

You make me happy, when skies are grey. 

You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. 

Please don’t take my sunshine away.

It had been what her mother used to sing to her when she was younger. When she was tired but refusing to sleep, or when it was thundering and she was scared. Back when she still had a mother… 

“I remember it all, Granger. So don’t you dare tell me they are not real, because they are. They are real to me.” 

Hermione swallowed hard, tears stinging her eyes. “Malfoy,” instinctively, because he was in pain and she hated seeing him this way, she took a step towards him. Wanting nothing more than to pull him into her arms and tell him everything will be okay. But it wasn’t okay. She wasn’t sure it ever would be again. One of them was always going to be hurting. 

As if proving this point Draco flinched so violently at her movement that she let a small sob of her own out and quickly looked away, halting all movement towards him. 

One of them was always going to be hurting.

Always.

If she wiped his memories, it was going to be her. 

Fuck how she was going to miss him. 

“I hope you know,” she started softly, so softly she wasn’t sure he even heard her, “that I never meant to hurt you. I don’t mean to be hurting you.” 

“I know, Granger.” he sounded so resigned, so defeated. “I know.”

“Draco,” she flinched, cursing herself for using his first name and causing him more pain. “Malfoy, please don’t do this. Don’t leave.” she begged, she would have gotten down on her hands and knees and pleaded if she thought it would have changed his mind. 

“I’m already gone,” he whispered, his voice filled with despair. “I’m already gone.”

And he was. She knew this. And as much as she hated being left behind in her own grief, she couldn’t condemn him to suffer it with her. Afterall, she had only just admitted to herself the extent of which she loved him. Draco, or this version of him anyways, had known for the past five years. His pain at losing her, losing this, had to be greater and she was being selfish. 

“Okay,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “I’ll approve your request, but I have a condition, and I think you’re going to hate me for asking for it."

He stiffened but gave a sharp nod, waiting for her to say what it was.

"I want you to show me."

Confusion washed over him "Show you what?"

"Show me where it started, for you. Your love for me, that is."

"I can't," he choked out. "It hurts too much. Please don't make me."

"I want to understand. I want to know. Please. Please show me what you're asking me to get rid of."

"Why?"

"Because, I need to know why you're asking me to rip out my own heart. Why you demanding I live with this pain, while yours gets to be wiped clean."

He flinched at her words, as if he hadn't considered how much this might be hurting her too. His gray eyes roamed her face and for the first time he almost looked sorry. Not pained, not desperate, just… sorry.

"Okay," he finally whispered. He took a hesitant step towards her. "To the beginning?" he confirmed, and she nodded. He said okay again, and she whispered the spell that would pull her into his mind, letting him guide her to where it all began.

Five years ago, at the Gala as it turned out. As they materialized on the scene, he sighed next to her, running his fingers through his hair and musing it further than it already was. “I’ve loved you for longer, by the way.” he confessed as past Hermione was creepily hit on by Mr Fletcher. 

“I’m not entirely sure when it started, maybe that day at my aunts, when I saw you playing with Teddy, grass in your hair. But this, this is where I finally bucked up the courage.” If on cue, past Draco entered. His eyes instantly spotted past Hermione and something dark crossed his features when he took stock of what was happening.  

The scene played out exactly as she remembered, until the moment it didn’t. This Draco, the one who ‘bucked up the courage’ did not dip and kiss her on the cheek, requesting she get home safely. No, this Draco kissed her. Full on, on the mouth, and when the next song started he didn’t step away or leave. He stayed, with her in his arms, and they danced the night away.

"That's not how it happened." she whispered as the scene started to fade. 

"I know, but that's how I remember it."

“Show me more.” 

He looked pained, but nodded. “I won’t traumatize you with our first date, or our second. They were horrible.” He laughed, a soft, self-deprecating sort of laugh that she wished to never hear again. And she supposed, she probably never would. 

Merlin, that hurt to think about. 

“What happened?” 

“I foolishly thought I could whisk you off to France, that we could dine at the finest restaurant I know. But you didn’t like the food, and I suppose I was being a bit of a smug prat. You left not even fifteen minutes in.” 

“And I still went out with you a second time.” 

He nodded. “After I promised to let you take the reins and decide where we were eating. It was disgusting by the way, or, I thought so at the time.” 

She hummed, wondering what cruel punishment she likely thrusted upon him for revenge. She didn’t have to wait long to find out. “It was a burger joint, I don’t remember what one exactly, but I had never had one before and I wasn’t used to the greasy food and got sick. Very sick. I think you felt bad for me after that, which is why you agreed to our third date.” 

The scene of what she assumed was their third date materialized and it was perfect. It was almost movie worthy if she was being honest. Or, it was to her. Knowing her love for magical creatures, he took her to a sanctuary to volunteer. 

By anyone else's standards, it wouldn't be considered a date at all. They spent all day working, covered in grime, but never once did Hermione stop smiling. And the animals seemed to have loved her. A unicorn nibbled on her hair. She had a fwooper perch on her shoulder. Got cuddles from a niffler. And so much more. He didn't show her all of it, just the highlights, and the part where he walked her home after buying her a hot cup of tea. Watching it all, seeing it with her own eyes, made her cry.

And then the memories came in quick succession without her asking for them. Their whirlwind romance. Him proposing just a few months in, her saying yes. Their wedding, her nervously telling him she was pregnant. How happy he was at the news. The birth of their firstborn. She had his eyes, but her hair and freckles. Seeing Lucius soften at the sight of his granddaughter. 

Fights with solicitors trying to get the inheritance clause changed so that she could inherit even though she was not a son. Listening to Lucius call their daughter his ‘little star.’ A miscarriage she suffered before learning she was pregnant with their son. A son who was all Malfoy and completely perfect.

The other moments were quicker, domestic. Soft kisses in the morning, wrapped up in a blanket on a porch swing as they talked. Rocking their children to sleep. Draco talking to her pregnant belly. Foot rubs and bubble baths, kisses to welcome each other home. Dates, anniversaries, Christmas’s. 

But he didn’t stop there. He showed her glimpses of fights, of long nights with the children. The devastation they both felt at losing their second child, the caution and worry they had when she found out she was pregnant again. 

It was a whole life together. 

And she wanted it all. 

Merlin, did she wish that this had been her reality too. That he had kissed her that night at the Gala. That all of this, the good and the bad, all that had happened. But they didn't. And she couldn't be sure they ever would. 

If she begged him to stay, told him she loved him, would he be disappointed if they didn't have a daughter? Or a son? What if she couldn't have children at all? She was older now... it might not be possible. They might not be the same if she did. 

So when they landed back in his almost empty home, she sniffled, wiped the tears from her face, and pulled out her wand. But then she hesitated again. “You said,” her voice broke when his pained eyes landed on her “that day, when you woke up, you asked if our children were with my parents.” 

“Yes.”

“Malfoy, my parents don’t remember me anymore.” 

She didn’t want to have to explain, didn’t want to even dip into that trauma and pain when she was already experiencing so much already. But she hadn’t needed to because he nodded. “I know.” He said softly. “Only, well, I remember you finding a cure for what happened to them. They, they got their memories back, all of them. Your mother was pissed, by the way, but she quickly forgave you. The birth of our daughter helped."

She processed these words, mulling them over carefully before asking “You didn’t show me any memories with them.” 

He quickly looked away from her, giving a sharp nod. “No, I thought it might be too painful for you right now.” and then he sighed, a deep, heavy sigh that seemed to have come from his very soul. “I had a feeling you would want them.” He nodded over to a box left behind. “You’ll find them in there, when you're ready for them.” 

She couldn’t stop her tears even if she had wanted to. Even now, while suffering through an excruciatingly painful heartache, he was still looking out for her. And it was time she did the same for him. “Okay, Malfoy. A promise is a promise." She said, then whispered, "Thanks for showing me every… and thanks, for… well, everything else."

The spell was on the tip of her tongue when a Patronus burst through showering them in light and warmth. It was Harry's and he was calling all Aurors. When it left, it took all the heat with it. “You don’t have to go.” She said instantly. “You’re technically not an Auror anymore.” not an active one anyways. 

“I was medically cleared last week.” 

That was right, he was. None of his altered memories had anything to do with spells or his training. As long as it didn’t revolve around her, he was clear. How could she have forgotten that? “Okay,” she said slowly, meeting his gaze, “then please don’t go.” 

“They might need me.” 

“You might get hurt.” 

He shrugged. “If I do, please don’t wake me this time.” 

“That isn’t funny.” she snapped and he softened a little. 

“Granger… Hermione, I’m not laughing. But I’m also not staying.” 

“Promise you’ll try to stay safe then.” she called after him when he made his way to the door. “Don’t do anything stupid and let Harry protect himself, yes?”

“I promise.” he said, and with a crack he was gone. 

….

….

He hadn’t kept his promise. 

He did something stupid and reckless, yet again, in order to save Harry’s life and because of it he got hurt. She got the medical notice not even an hour later. She rushed to St Mungo’s fearing the worst. A repeat of before, something she couldn’t pull him out of, his request to not wake him. She was a hot mess when she arrived, running through the halls and towards the reception area where Carrie had pointed when she asked after Malfoy. 

She was so wound up in deja vu that it had surprised her to see Draco standing next to Harry perfectly fine… okay, not perfectly fine, he had a broken rib and was a tad winded. But otherwise he was fine. Harry was too. 

Before she could stop herself, she was launching herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug, kissing his cheek as she went. “Thank goodness you are okay, I really can’t imagine a world without you in it.” she whispered just for him. And it was true, even if his world no longer had her in it. At least she knew he would be out there, somewhere safe, healing. 

"Uh, Granger?" he patted her back, "Not that I don't like this and all, but what are you doing?"

She pulled back, a bit stunned, and studied his face, which softened when he looked at her, but then became stern when he saw that she was crying. "What is it, what's wrong?"

"I... Draco?"

"Yes," he said slowly.

She blinked a few times, her gaze wandering to Harry for a moment who only offered her a shrug. Trying to decide the best course of action she thought back to the medical alert. It had mentioned he had passed out, but he was clearly conscious now. She could run some tests but there was only one sure way to know and well, there just was no way to be polite about it so she bluntly asked "Do you think we are married?"

He blinked at her, genuinely confused, "Umm, are you taking the mickey?" Then he sniffed her breath and inquired if she was drunk. Which earned him a playful slap and a scoffed ‘rude’ before she started asking more questions. Questions like, do I have any children, and do you know anything about my parents? 

His frown deepened with each one, but he answered them all with a shake of his head. "Merlin’s beard Granger, are you alright?"

"Yes." She said in an almost hysterical-sounding laugh, and then she kissed him. Right there, for all to see. 

He didn’t kiss her back. 

"What-" he started, but she cut him off with another kiss. Softer this time and her heart soared when he kissed her back. It was timid, confused, but still electric. 

When she pulled away his grey eyes were searching hers, his question evident in them. "I've recently discovered that I'm in love with you, Draco Malfoy, and I would very much like to go on a date. A proper one, if you don't mind." and then, because she really wasn’t sure what Draco felt for her, this version of him anyways, she added softly “If you want to.” 

He hesitated, studying her and trying to decide if this was a joke. But then his doubt slowly faded, and he smiled, a soft, gentle sort of smile that sent the butterflies in her stomach soaring. "Yes, Granger. I think I would like that."

…

…

Months later, while cuddling in bed, Draco asked a question that had been bugging him for some time. She could see it working around in his mind, but it took him time to work up the courage to ask it. “Hermione, love,” oh how she loved those two little words, “what made you want to ask me out?” 

She answered him honestly, because she had nothing to hide and she loved him. Purely and deeply, she loved him. “I have loved you, Draco Malfoy, for a long time now. I don’t really know when it started taking root, and I’m not sure it matters because the result is still the same.” 

“I love you, and I wasn’t going to hide from that anymore.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I suppose you can say that I was sleeping, or my heart was, and I just needed something to wake me up and help me realize how I felt.” she snuggled deeper into him, melting into him as he called it. 

“And what woke you up?” 

They had briefly told him what had happened to him previously, that he had some false memories and was having a rough go of things because of them. But they didn’t go into details. Not because she didn’t want to, but because he hadn’t wanted to know. He just wanted the basics, and that was it. So that’s all he was told. 

“You did.” She kissed him, softly, tenderly. “You woke me up.” and she was so incredibly happy that he had. 

He hummed into her next kiss before flipping her over on the bed and deepening it. 

…

…

Five months later, she found out she was pregnant. 

It was going to be a little girl. She didn't even try to hold back her smile when she told Draco she loved the name Alya. As it turned out, he loved it too.