Heirloom
Suggested listening: Kate Bush - Running Up that Hill
They walked in the snow, hand in hand. The park was quiet. They could hear the snow crunch under their feet. Not their first Christmas together, but hopefully not their last.
"Happy Christmas, Granger."
"Happy Christmas, Malfoy."
It took a lot for them to get here.
Crying. Fights. Parents. Memory loss. A temporary separation. Followed by more crying. And repeated 'I love you''s every chance they got.
She wore his favourite jumper, a deep red decorated by silver buttons down the middle, and a black pleated skirt with dark tights.
"This is one of my favourite places. My parents and I used to get hot chocolate right over there." She pointed to a small, quaint shop.
The snowflakes caught between her eyelashes, making her eyes glitter like constellations. He kissed each one, melting them under his heated breath.
The cold air nipped at his exposed neck, but he could barely feel it under her gaze and wrapped in her arms.
Fat, feathery chunks of snow whirled around them.
"Next year is going to be different," she beamed. "I can feel it. Do you believe me?"
He'd believe anything she said.
"Yes."
He tapped the side of his thigh. It was now or never. Or possibly tomorrow.
Draco gathered what was left of his mediocre courage and took a deep breath.
"I think I need a change of scenery."
He froze.
"Australia is nice this time of year. I think I need to go back before—See them. Try again." Her hand rested between her breasts.
"O—of course." He stepped back from her. His throat felt constricted, and his heart beat painfully against his chest. Had he missed the signs? Was he too eager to have her back in his arms that he didn't—refused to see them?
Hermione walked a few steps ahead before pausing, noticing he was a few steps behind her. She cocked her head, gnawing nervously at her bottom lip.
"What I'm trying to say ... poorly is—"
"I get it, Granger."
"Get what?"
"You need to do what you have to do. You don't need anything to hold you back. Your parents are important to—"
"Yes, I want them to be there when—I hope I can be there when—"
"I know."
She arched a dark eyebrow. "What do you know?" Almost challenging him.
He took two tentative steps toward her and reached out for her hand, bringing it to his shoulders. She squeezed the nape of his neck and played with the soft strands of his hair. He closed his eyes, trying to memorize the sensation of the twirl of her fingers and the comforting, floral smell of her hair he knew to be hers — and his home.
"Have you been talking to Hannah?" This time, her voice was suspicious. [1]
"Huh?" His eyes squinted, the unexpected name pulling him out of his desperate reverie.
She repeated, "Have you been talking to Hannah?"
"What, n—no," he stammered.
Hermione eyed him with one more withering glare before standing on her tip toes to close the distance between them. He mercifully tilted his forehead down and caught her pursed, judgmental lips in a soft, sliding kiss. His hand slipped up from her waist to bring her infinitesimally closer, drawing a finger along the curve of her jaw.
"I'm pregnant," she whispered against his shivering lips.
"What did you say?" His voice was low and raspy.
"I'm—"
Before she could finish the sentence a second time, he grabbed and lifted her in the air, twirling her like the many snowflakes blustering in the chaotic wind, kissing her red, round cheeks.
She started laughing, a deep, boisterous sound that he loved.
He stopped and stared at her, their eyes meeting in an unblinking gaze. Her feet faltered for a second.
Draco squatted down to tie his boot.
"Are you okay with ... this?" She needed verbal confirmation, looking down at the top of his white-blond head.
His freshly pressed black trousers soaked through, but he couldn't feel the cold for the second time today.
When he looked up, he produced a heirloom ring that he'd been hiding in his pocket for several months now.
"Oh."