Becoming

A return owl arrived the following evening. Draco had collected Scorpius from his day school and they had run a few errands in Diagon Alley. When they returned to their home around dinnertime, there was an owl waiting for him on the sconce next to his front door. Draco recognized the owl immediately, and with careful hands he removed the letter from Gertrude’s outstretched leg. He nodded his thanks to the owl with a wary look, and passed the letter to Scorpius to hold as he opened their door.

Once he had deposited their shopping in the kitchen, Draco allowed Scorpius to open the letter. The young boy was learning to write and spell, but he was only able to decipher print lettering at this point. He loved to be included in such mundane tasks as reading letters, though, so Draco read over his shoulder.

I would be delighted to meet Scorpius. How’s Thursday? Is 5 o’clock too early? I’ve blocked out the afternoon for an appointment with my Healer, so I’ll be free after. Gertrude has been instructed to wait for your response, so please let me know.

- H. Granger

P.S. I currently can’t eat tomatoes or any red meats. If this is difficult to accommodate (I know how the palates of children can dictate one’s life), please do let me know and I will bring something I can eat. I don’t want to inconvenience you.

Draco smiled, and was torn from re-reading the post-script by his son’s pouting.

“Dad! I can’t read it, it’s all squiggly!”

He chuckled. “Yes, love, I do suppose it looks a bit squiggly. This is called script handwriting. You’ll learn how to read it in the next few years, once you’ve mastered your print letters. Most adults write like this when we’re writing letters to each other, and everyone’s script writing looks different. Some of the letters are the same as what you’re learning, see?” Draco pointed out a few letters in Hermione’s handwriting. “See how this still looks like a ‘T’ and this is a ‘C?’ You’ll learn it quick enough. You see this word here?” He pointed to another word. “This is your name! It just looks different than how your teacher writes it.”

Scorpius was nodding, but sadly. “What does it say, Dad?”

Draco pulled Scorpius onto his lap and ran a hand over his short, curly hair.

“It’s from one of my friends that you’ve never met before. Her name is Hermione Granger, and you and I are going to make her dinner on Thursday because I want the two of you to meet each other. Does that sound fun?”

Scorpius screwed up his little face. “Herb miney?”

“Her-my-oh-nee,” Draco repeated slowly.

“That’s hard.”

Draco had to hold in a laugh and school his features. “It will get easier if you practice. It took you a while to be able to say your name, too, remember?”

The small boy nodded solemnly before looking back at the letter in his hands. “Thursday? How many days?”

“Three days from now.”

“Does Her– Herbiney like biscuits? I want to make biscuits. Choccie ones.”

And just like that, there were no more questions from Scorpius. Ah, to be four years old and no worries beyond what flavour of biscuits to make. Draco sent his affirmative response and an owl treat back with an impatient Gertrude (he made sure to assure Hermione that her restrictions could be honoured), and the father and son set about making their dinner.

It turned out that the halt in questions was only temporary. Over the next two days, Draco found himself quizzed on Hermione. What does she look like? Does she like nifflers? Did she work with Draco? Can she teach Scorpius how to write in squiggly letters? What is her owl’s name? Does she have a kid too?

Draco had stumbled over this last question, blindsided with it on Wednesday evening as he put Scorpius to bed. He had not really thought how he would broach that topic, and had to think on his feet.

“She doesn’t have any children right now, Scorpius. You know, some people have lots of kids and some people don’t have any, some may have them someday but not yet, and then some people – like me – get lucky and have a really, really wonderful kid like you,” he tapped Scorp’s nose as he said this last bit, causing the drowsy child to roll his eyes and giggle. “But I know Hermione does have lots and lots of nieces and nephews, so she likes to spend time with kids.”

“S’good. I hope she likes me,” Scorp whispered as he started to drift off.

“I know she will, Scorp,” Draco whispered as he kissed the small boy on the forehead. “I love you, kid.”

“-ve you too, Dad,” he mumbled.

On Thursday, Draco picked up Scorpius a couple of hours early from his school. They stopped at the bakery in Diagon and then took the Floo home from the Leaky Cauldron. After much deliberation and haggling, the two Malfoys had decided on a menu of a salad (earning an “ewww” from Scorpius), a creamy potato and leek soup, the fresh baguette they had picked up that afternoon, and (at Scorpius’ insistence) two types of chocolate biscuits for dessert.

They had made the biscuit dough the night before, so while Draco waved his wand and set the knives to peeling potatoes and preparing other vegetables, Scorp set to cutting the cookies from the dough logs with the dull table knife Draco allowed him to use in the kitchen. At ten minutes till five, the soup was simmering on the back of the hob, the biscuits were in the oven, and Scorpius was putting the finishing touches on the salad – some slices of apple that he arranged in a smiley face on the bowl.

Draco heard the Floo chime just before five o’clock, indicating Hermione’s arrival. Draco helped Scorpius down off the bench, where the boy had been placing extra chocolate wafers on some of the chocolate biscuits that were cooling. After brushing some crumbs from Scorpius’ small trousers, Draco allowed him to run ahead of him to the Floo in the sitting room.

Draco heard Hermione’s calm voice ring through the hall. “Well, hello! You must be Scorpius.” Draco made it to the arched doorway in time to see Hermione sink down onto one knee to get at Scorp’s level and stick out her hand to him. Scorp reached out and shook her hand enthusiastically.

“Yes, but my dad calls me Scorp. Are you Her-Herbioney?” Draco could hear the concentration in his voice – he had been practising for days and was still having a little trouble with the ‘m’ in the middle of her name.

“I am. But some of my friends call me Mia, and you can call me that if you want.”

“Oh, Mia is much easier to say!”

Hermione’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “I agree,” she said in a conspiratorial tone. “It took me a long time to learn how to say my own name when I was little, you know.”

“It took me ages, too! My middle name is hard.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. My name is Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. And someday I’m going to learn to write the whole thing. Right now I can only write my first name.”

“That is a wonderful start! Do you like writing?”

“Yes. I’m learning how to read and write at school. But I couldn’t read your squiggly writing when you sent that letter to my dad. But I liked how my name looked all squiggly. I want to learn how to write like that someday.”

“I’ll bet you’ll have a knack for it,” Hermione said sagely. She caught Draco’s eye above Scorp’s head and grinned. “I see your dad has joined us.”

Scorpius whirled around. “Dad! She’s here! And she said I can call her Mia, which is sooo much easier to say.”

Draco grinned at his son and strode into the room. “That was very nice of her, Scorp. Why don’t you show her where she can hang her coat?”

Scorpius instantly became a little gentleman, just as Astoria would have wanted. He showed Hermione where to hang her coat, and then showed her where she should take off her shoes.

“Dad and I don’t wear shoes in the house. It gets dirt everywhere when we come in from the back garden.”

“Is that so? I do the same thing at my home, you know. It’s a very good way to keep your house clean.” Hermione toed off her ankle boots and turned toward Draco. For the first time, Draco got a full look at her. Her grey stockinged feet drew his attention up her legs and higher. She wore a sleeved, knit dress in a navy blue colour, the hem hitting just above her knees. The dress disguised the bump where his daughter grew, but Draco’s attention was fixated on the swell under the fabric. His daughter.

“Dad says we have to clean up after ourselves as good as we can. He cleans stuff with magic, sometimes, you know. Do you know how to clean stuff with magic?”

“I do. I learned a lot of different charms to clean things when I was at Hogwarts.” Hermione was looking at Draco curiously, and Draco quirked an eyebrow at her, smirking.

“That’s brilliant. I’m going to learn all about potions when I grow up and go to Hogwarts, just like my dad.”

“I knew your dad in school, you know, and he was always very good at potions.”

“He said he’ll let me help him in his lab, but I have to get bigger first.”

“Yes, well,” Draco broke in, “I do need my potions assistant to be able to see into the cauldron. You’ve got some growing to do yet.”

Hermione’s tinkling laugh rang in Draco’s ears distractingly, but he still caught Scorp’s exaggerated eye roll as he turned around to face his father.

“Are you hungry, Scorp?”

“Yes! Mia, Dad made potato soup and I made you two kinds of choccie biscuits. Come eat dinner so we can have dessert.” He grabbed Hermione’s hand and started leading her to the dining room.

“Oh, I do love biscuits!” Hermione exclaimed.

Draco followed them through to the dining room, and then excused himself into the kitchen when the timer for the biscuits chimed through the cozy space. He came back into the dining room a minute later, dinner levitating in the air before him, and saw Scorp still had Hermione engaged in conversation about biscuits.

“Dinner is served,” he said as the dishes came down to rest on the table. He offered Hermione the salad bowl first, and she grinned down at it.

“Thank you, Draco. Scorpius, did you help make the salad too?”

The young boy nodded, and Draco smiled. “It’s our compromise on vegetables,” he explained. “Scorp gets to add whatever he wants to the salad as long as he agrees to also eat all the green bits.”

“That sounds like a perfect compromise. I see apples and sultanas. What else did you add?”

“Uhh, I think I added lots of cheese, and a few crisps. See?” Scorpius reached into the salad bowl and proudly held up a bit of crumbled crisp before shoving it into his mouth happily.

Draco had rolled his eyes at Hermione when she turned to catch his eye, her face taut with barely contained mirth. “That’s nothing. He once added two types of hundreds-and-thousands to a salad with bleu cheese on it. I call a salad with only a few crisps in it a success.” Draco winked at his son across the table.

“Do you two cook together a lot?”

“Yeah,” Scorp said in between bites of his salad. “Dad and I make dinner ‘most every night. Sometimes we get food from somewhere else, but I like cooking better. I don’t get to cook at Nana and Grandfather’s house. They always have elves cooking. And the elves won’t let me help either.”

“We don’t have any house-elves here, do we Scorp?” Draco said in response to Hermione’s unanswered question.

“Nope! We used to have an elf who helped my mum, but Tilly went back to Nana’s house after my mum died.” Scorpius said this so matter-of-factly, it surprised Hermione.

“Scorp and I learned how to do everything on our own after that,” Draco explained. “We learned to cook together, and we had a lot of boxed pasta that first year. Everything fell into place on its own after a while.”

“I think that’s really wonderful, Draco,” Hermione said in a low voice. “And you get to spend all that time together cooking. That’s really special, Scorpius.”

“Did you learn to cook with your dad, Mia?”

“I learned a couple of things when I was young, but mostly I learned from my friend’s mum. My friend had six brothers, so her mum was always busy cooking in the kitchen. She taught me how to cook with magic.”

Draco surmised she was talking about the Weasleys, but didn’t fail to notice that she was clearly referring to the Weasley daughter, Ginny, as her friend in question. The fact that Ron was not mentioned was quite curious.

“That’s a lot of brothers.” Scorp’s eyes were wide. “Dad, that’s a lot of brothers.”

“It is. But remember what we discussed the other night? How some people have lots of kids and some people don’t have any?”

“Uh-huh. And some people only have one really, really wonderful kid like me,” Scorp finished proudly. Draco smiled at him, nodding.

They moved on to their soup, and a few bites in, Hermione complimented him on it unexpectedly. “This is delicious, Draco. Thank you for inviting me over."

Before he could answer, Scorp broke in.

"Mia, do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"I do not. I was my mum and dad's only child, just like your dad."

"And me. I wish I had a big family."

Hermione turned to face Draco with panic etched into her face. He knew some of it was mirrored on his own face. He cast around wildly for a follow up to deflect.

"There are lots of ways to have a big family, Scorp. Some of your family is the family you have when you're born, like your grandparents and me and your mum, and some family is family you choose, like Uncle Theo. He's not my brother the way some people have brothers, but he and I grew up together as friends and were a lot like brothers, so now he's your uncle."

Hermione caught on immediately. "That's right. My friend's mum that taught me how to cook? Her name is Molly, but she tells me to call her 'Mum' because she helped raise me right alongside her kids and she calls me her daughter. And my friend's kids all call me Auntie Mia because we're all family. A family that chose to be together."

"That's pretty cool," Scorpius conceded, licking the back of his spoon. "Dad, maybe we can find some more family. I want to make more friends."

"I think we can do that, Scorp." Draco cast a nervous look at Hermione, and she returned it.

The rest of dinner passed in conversation. Scorpius was outgoing, and loved to talk to people. By the time Draco cleared away their plates and summoned in the chocolate biscuits, Scorpius had asked Hermione for the names of all her nieces and nephews (Draco had already forgotten most of them), what her favourite animal was (otters), what her favourite magical animal was (wyverns or Kneazles, depending on the day), whether she was married (no), and what type of sweet she liked best (peppermint chocolates).

"Mia, I made these for you," Scorpius said proudly, grabbing the floating tray of biscuits and putting them in front of her. "There's choccie ones with nuts, and sugary ones with choccie chunks."

"They look delicious, Scorp," Hermione gushed to him, taking one of each onto her dessert plate. "Are biscuits your favourite thing to make?"

Scorp tilted his head, thinking. "They're fun, but I think I like making spasketti best. Dad and I do it together and it's fun to take it out of the box and watch the spasketti get all soft in the water."

"Spaghetti, Scorp." Draco felt himself grinning, even as he corrected

"Spaghetti," Scorp repeated, nodding seriously.

"That sounds very nice," Hermione agreed. "Spaghetti is a lot of fun to make, I agree. You know," Hermione brushed some biscuit crumbs from her fingers and leaned closer to Scorp. "I know how to make all kinds of noodles. I have this really cool kitchen tool that lets you make your own noodles out of flour and water, and you can cut them into any shapes you want."

"That's cool! Can it make the ones that look like tubes?"

"Yes, it can! And it can even make really long sheets that you can turn into stuffed noodles," Hermione said seriously.

"Noodles are my favorite," Scorp grinned up at her. "Dad, can we make noodles with Mia's thing sometime?"

"You probably need to ask her that, Scorp."

"Can we, Mia?"

Hermione's gentle laugh was soothing in the small dining room. "Of course. I'd be delighted to see what kind of noodles you make."

"Cool!"

"What do you say, Scorp?"

"Thank you, Mia!"

Later on, when the biscuits had been eaten -- Scorpius a little grumpy that he hadn't been able to sneak a fourth one-- they retired to the sitting room. Draco made Hermione a cup of herbal tea, and they sat in a companionable silence as Scorp practised his writing with a pencil and workbook at a small desk in the corner. He was completely focused on his homework, and ignored the adults.

Draco took a moment to just watch Hermione. As he watched her smiling gently at Scorpius, he was struck by how beautiful Hermione really was. He felt a familiar stirring in his stomach as she glanced over at him. Her dark brown eyes were wide and welcoming. The crease between her eyebrows was still there, even in the quiet calm of the sitting room. Her lips were still quirked in a smile, and he recalled exactly how those lips had felt on his.

“He’s absolutely wonderful, Draco,” Hermione said quietly. Draco was torn from his perusal of her mouth. “You’ve done quite an amazing job raising him.”

Draco felt his cheeks flush at the praise. “A lot of it is his mum,” he confessed. “He’s more like her than me, and I’m thankful for it.”

“It wouldn’t be bad for him to be like you, Draco.” As she said this, Hermione reached out a hand to gently touch him on the arm. “You’re not as terrible as you still seem to think you are.”

Draco nodded his thanks.

“This is –” Hermione seemed to be searching for words. “Tonight was surprising, in the best way. I have a bit of a soft spot for doing things by hand, you know, and not reverting to magic for every task. I was a bit surprised that you and Scorp do your own cooking and cleaning. It’s admirable.”

Draco felt his hackles raise a bit, but he told himself it wasn’t an insult. With a glance at Scorpius, he cast a muffliato spell around himself and Hermione. “I know it’s not what one would expect of a Malfoy,” he said evenly. “But I didn’t want to take one of my parents’ elves with me when I moved out of the manor. I didn’t want the reminder of him and everything that had happened there with the elves.”

“That’s perfectly understandable.” Hermione didn’t push.

“And Astoria’s elf, Tilly… she loved Scorpius, but she was tied to the Greengrass family alone and her bonds meant she returned to Astoria’s parents after.”

“I imagine that was a difficult transition.”

“It was very tough for Scorp.” Draco’s voice was quiet again. “He didn’t understand what was happening. We’d done our best to shield him from her sickness, and he didn’t really understand what death was. It wasn’t a conversation I had been prepared for. But Astoria left him letters for his birthdays, and some memories of their time for him to have when he’s ready. I’m to share them with him before he goes to Hogwarts.”

“That’s a beautiful gift. I know how hard it is to say goodbye to someone you know will be leaving you forever.” Hermione’s voice was equally as quiet. “And how precious every moment is until the inevitable.”

Silence fell for several long moments.

“He seems to be coping well.”

“Yeah. He met with a mind Healer who specialised in children and grief. It was rather a booming field of study after the war.” Draco could hear the cynicism and guilt in his own voice. “But Scorp benefited from it. The Healer explained things to him better than I could have done.”

“Did you see a Healer, as well?”

“It was part of my probation after the trial, and I decided to keep up with it in light of Astoria’s struggle. It was a long process.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah. Did you?”

“For a few years.”

Silence again. They both watched Scorpius as he concentrated on his writing.

“When should we tell him?” Hermione broke the silence.

“I don’t know,” Draco replied honestly. He dragged a hand through his hair and looked at her. “We’ve never talked about exactly where babies come from, Granger. I know he knows that he was born because Astoria and I wanted him really badly, but I think he thinks you have to be married to have babies. It’s not really something we’ve talked about, but his friends and cousins – well, the parents are all married. And the Greengrasses aren’t going to tell him anything positive about unmarried parents – they're quite traditional and I don't know what they might have said in passing.”

Hermione snorted indelicately. “Well, we don’t necessarily have to go into specifics about conception, Draco. But we’ve realistically only got a couple more months before Sage will be here and we need to decide what to tell him.”

“As soon as we go public, Astoria’s parents will be on me. We won’t be able to keep it from him, and I’d rather him not hear it from them. They won’t be kind.”

Hermione paled. “Yes, I thought as much.”

“I will need to tell them directly before we announce it, Granger. It will be worse if they find out from the papers.”

She nodded. “You said you’re free this weekend?”

“Yeah, Scorp will be spending some time with Daphne and her kids. They’re all at the Greengrass estate for the winter season.”

“Do you want to break it to them in the next week, then? If we can be ready with a statement this weekend, we’ll make the Quibbler deadline. Luna publishes weekly on Fridays and she offered to meet with me Tuesday morning for an interview. It will give us several days to tell those who need to hear it first.”

“Did you tell her why?”

“Only the basics. She doesn’t know you’re involved.”

“I can probably get something into the Friday edition of the Prophet. We can issue a statement to them and then say that the exclusive interview is in the Quibbler.”

“That will give us a couple of weeks before the winter parties really begin, and they’ll take up a lot of the gossip. Harry and Ginny are holding a massive masquerade ball on that first Saturday of December, and I’m sure something scandalous will be reported – they do throw some wild parties. Unfortunately, I’m expected to attend that so I will have to make an appearance.”

Draco pulled at his memories to identify any other social events that would assist with taking the scrutiny off them.

“Pansy Parkinson’s wedding will be the following week. It will be in Scotland, but it’s already the talk of the season among the pureblood families. It’s a big, multi-day do and has been all the Greengrasses have talked about lately.”

“That could help. Then there’s the Ministry’s Yule ball.”

“I was invited to attend that this year.”

“Same.”

Draco dragged his hands through his hair again. He didn’t really want to ask his next questions, but he needed to know.

“Have you told Potter yet?”

Hermione shook her head. “Just Neville and Hannah, Luna, and my aide. Neville and Hannah are the only ones that know about you. I had to tell my aide, Ben, because he’s helping me organise everything, and I’ve had him working from home the last couple of weeks. He knows that I’ll be preparing for a period of parental leave and we have to get his workload squared away.”

“Why haven’t you told Potter or the Weasleys yet?”

“When Ron finds out, he won’t be kind.” Hermione hesitated. “We aren’t on good terms and haven’t really been for years, frankly. But I expect he’ll be contacted by the Prophet, and he won’t hold back. I can trust Harry not to make a rash statement, but I don’t want Ron to know until it’s necessary. I felt it best to wait to tell him until the last possible moment, but I will tell Harry and Ginny soon.”

Draco inclined his head in acknowledgment. The feeling of dread he got when hearing about Weasley settled like a stone in his stomach. “With your permission, I would like to tell Theo and his wife this week. He’s my best mate, and I don’t really have anyone else to talk to about this. He can be trusted to stay quiet, or give a statement if we request.”

“Theodore Nott, yes?” Hermione cocked her head curiously.

Draco nodded in the affirmative. “Yes. He’s my oldest friend, and has a distaste for the press.”

“He’s a client," she admitted reluctantly.

Draco hadn’t been expecting that. “So you’re his mysterious advisor? He’s been rather quiet about what he’s been doing, dismantling his father’s companies, but I know it has been a legal disaster.” Hermione hummed noncommittally, and Draco continued. “Anyway, his wife is Scorp’s teacher, so I think it would be good for them to know.”

“I will have to speak with him about it, too.” Hermione sighed and scrubbed at her face with her hand. She suddenly looked very tired, and Draco kicked himself for bringing it up. “It’s not illegal to represent a friend in the UK, but there may be some situations where I’d need to recuse myself. There are ethical considerations when representing someone with whom you have a personal relationship, even tangentially. We try to keep it strictly business, but this does add some level of complication." A moment of silence. “But I think, yes, that would be fine. I didn't know Scorpius went to Padma's school."

"He just started this past term. He likes to get out of the house and see other kids."

"Yes, he's quite the outgoing sort, isn't he?" Hermione smiled over at Scorpius, still engaged in his workbook.

"Another thing he got from his mother, I assume."

"And his studiousness?"

"Ah, Granger, you'd do well to remember I was second in the class behind you. That is all me."

She cracked a smile at him, which he returned.

Draco jumped slightly as the clock in the entry chimed.

Draco dropped the muffliato. "Eight o'clock, Scorp. Time for you to say goodbye to Hermione and get ready for bed."

He could hear Scorp grumble as he put away his workbook and pencil. Hermione stood, as well, and handed her empty tea mug to Draco. They walked toward the kitchen, and Scorpius immediately started talking his way into a final biscuit before bed.

Draco relented, seeing as it had been an eventful evening, and Hermione smiled at him as Scorpius devoured the chocolate treat before running up the stairs to his room. He yelled over his shoulder for Hermione to wait while he got ready for bed.

Draco packaged up some of the biscuits for Hermione to take home. She accepted readily. “He’s quite the baker, you know. He knows exactly how much chocolate to put in a biscuit.” Her eyes were twinkling in the low light of the kitchen, and Draco felt his stomach flip.

“He’ll be pleased to hear that,” he said. He watched her sneak one of the biscuits from her package and put it to her mouth. “Sage agrees, I take it?” Draco felt his eyes wander down to her protruding abdomen, where it rested gently against the bench top.

She nodded, and Draco’s eyes were drawn back to her face. She was watching him intently. His eyes dropped to her lips, and without a thought, Draco brought his hand up to brush away a smear of chocolate from her lip. When he realised what he had done, Draco pulled away, muttering an apology.

“It’s alright, Draco. Thank you for –” She gestured vaguely at her mouth, not quite meeting his eyes.

They were saved from further awkward conversation by Scorpius thundering down the stairs. Within moments, he reappeared in the kitchen clad in a pyjama set patterned with snitches.

“Do you like my pyjamas, Mia?”

“Those are pretty great, Scorp,” she returned easily. “I have some with dragons on them.”

“Cool!”

“Dragons, eh?” Draco quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah. I am, after all, the Hermione Granger who flew a dragon out of Gringott’s, ” she joked with a wide smile.

“Whoah, what?” Scorpius screeched in a pitch that only children could reach. “Tell the story!” he begged, grabbing onto Hermione’s hand and tugging.

“Another time,” Draco said with a pointed look at his son. Scorpius rolled his eyes but quieted his tone.

“Fiiiine.” He returned his attention to Hermione. “Will you tell me the story someday, Mia?”

“Of course, Scorpius. Maybe you can come over to my house for dinner soon and I’ll tell you about all the dragons I’ve met. We can also make noodles.”

“That would be fun! Can I meet some of your nieces and nephews?”

“Maybe,” she demurred smoothly. “Your dad and I will see what we can work out.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you for the lovely dinner, Scorpius.”

“You’re welcome! Thank you for coming over!” Scorpius punctuated this by reaching out and grabbing Hermione around the thighs and hugging her tightly. When he pulled away, Hermione sank down into a crouch in front of him. He immediately launched himself into her arms for another hug. “Can you come back next week?”

Draco saw the brightness of sudden tears in Hermione’s eyes as she hugged his son tightly, her eyes on Draco’s.

“We’ll plan something and let you know, okay, Scorp?” Draco broke in. “Now go brush your teeth and get in bed. I’ll be up in a few minutes to read to you.”

With a last squeeze around Hermione’s neck, he pulled away and ran to the stairs, shouting “Goodnight!” as he went.

Hermione started to rise, and Draco rushed to her to offer his arm for support. She accepted gratefully as she got back to her stockinged feet, and gingerly brushed a tear away.

“Sorry for this,” she said, indicating her tears. “Hormones. My emotions are still a little unpredictable right now.”

“Maybe I should have warned you that he’s a hugger.”

Hermione laughed through the tears, a smile breaking across her face.

“I appreciated it. I haven’t seen any of the kids since I found out about the baby. I didn’t want to face the questions, so I haven’t been ‘round to see anyone in a few weeks.”

“You’re excellent with him.”

“As are you,” she answered.

“I do my best.”

Hermione nodded, and he saw a look flash across her face. Before he knew it, Hermione had reached out for him and wrapped her own arms tightly around his neck. His arms immediately went around her back, holding her. He felt, in that moment, that he needed the contact just as badly as she did.

As he held her, a warmth enveloped him, and he was acutely aware of the firm curve of her stomach pressing into his abdomen and the softness of her breasts flattened against him. He wrapped his arms a little tighter and murmured into her ear. “We’ll figure it all out somehow.”

“Together.”

“Together,” he agreed. As they pulled apart, Draco added in a quiet voice, “Can I – may I?” He gestured vaguely at her stomach.

Hermione nodded, her cheeks flushed and tearstained. After ensuring Scorpius wasn’t in earshot, Draco dropped to his own knees in front of her, coming face to face with her swollen stomach.

With shaking hands, Draco smoothed the fabric of Hermione’s dress against her abdomen. He held his hands firmly against her, cradling the bump where his daughter grew. He leaned his forehead against her gently.

“Hello, Sage,” he whispered into the silence of the room. Hermione seemed to be holding her breath. “I’m your dad.”