Becoming

Saturday crawled by in fits and starts. Draco had no more panic attacks, but instead found himself unable to sleep, succumbing to a restless doze many hours after putting Scorpius to bed. They lazed away in the house, baked all manner of biscuits and pies, and played in the garden.

Draco spent some time in the attached Holly House whilst Scorp played in the low-walled garden. He wanted to be sure everything was functioning as it should before Hermione potentially moved in. He was hopeful after their last conversation, and he was filled with a nervous energy trying to ensure it was perfect. Tile was scrubbed and grout refinished with some handy charms pulled from Nayal & Hammer's Practical Guide to Home Renovation, which Padma had loaned him, and he scrubbed the flagstone and waxed the wide-plank flooring in each room. Fresh paint was applied to plaster, ready for any number of colourvaria charms to ensure it was to her liking. He spent more time than anticipated repairing the stairs to the upper storey. Although they seemed perfectly stable, Draco fretted over the handful of squeaky steps and crooked risers.

Draco ventured out only once, to the owl post in Diagon just before it closed on Saturday. Gregor the Postmaster, whom Draco had met the previous morning, nodded amicably at him when he ducked inside the noisy building to collect his post. He handed over a large packet of letters nearly tied with twine, and two small packages.

"Everything has been checked over, Mr. Malfoy," Gregor said gruffly. "We disposed of the unsavory. Between you and I, I would recommend you get going, though – one of the Weasleys has been sending Howlers every couple of hours, and they'll find you in the Alley if you aren't quick."

Draco's spirit fell further at that, but he nodded his thanks. Impulsively, Draco held out his hand to offer a handshake to the old man, and was surprised when Gregor accepted it without hesitation. The shock must have shown on his face, for Gregor cracked a toothy smile at him.

"Don't act so shocked, laddie. We're not all against you, aye." He cast a quick glance around the room to make sure there weren't any other nearby patrons before adding conspiratorially, "My son is a wolf, you know. That Hermione Granger is going to change his life for the better, and we can't wait. After all she's been through over the years and all that she does for our people, she deserves something good. And she wouldn't settle for less, laddie, so you must be doing something right."

Draco cleared his throat, fighting the lump rising.

"Thank you," he rushed out. "She really does. I'd give her the world if I could, but she'd much rather take it by storm herself," he joked.

Gregor huffed a low laugh. "Aye, that doesn't surprise me."

They parted amicably, with Gregor asking Draco to let Hermione know her post box was full and to see if she was able to swing by first thing Monday to empty it. Draco promised to do so, and left the Alley swiftly.

Rather than Floo back through to the Notts' residence, where he had dropped off Scorpius and where they were set to have dinner, Draco slipped through the Leaky Cauldron and into Muggle London to take a few moments to himself without the stares of pedestrians on the Alley. He found a deserted corner by some bins and took a moment to slow his breathing down. With a twist, he Apparated away.

Draco Apparated infrequently nowadays, as Scorpius found it quite uncomfortable, and the lack of recent practice had Draco feeling a bit nauseous upon landing just outside the gates of the Nott grounds. In the distance, Draco could see the hulking form of the school – once Nott Manor. The building had been purged and cleansed of all dark artefacts and magicks before being renovated to serve as Nottingham's school. It served magical children from ages four through eleven, and they even had special activities for Squib children and the siblings of Muggleborns who wanted to learn more about the magical community from their perspective.

Draco was proud of his friends for what they'd created on these once-blood-soaked grounds. Neither Theo nor Draco had many pleasant memories of the place, so it was wondrous to see it transformed into a place of light and learning instead of darkness and pain. The walk to the main house afforded him lovely twilight views of the lawns and overwintering gardens, and Draco felt some of the tension seep from his shoulders as he went.

Dinner was takeaway from a chippy in the nearest town. While Draco and Scorpius spent a fair amount of time in Muggle neighborhoods, the Notts didn't usually venture into town. Raf and Scorpius were content to play in the garden whilst the adults fetched dinner, so Draco tagged along with Padma and Irma to obtain their food (Theo having volunteered to supervise the youngest among them). Irma in particular was enthralled with the small chippy and had to be urged several times to keep her voice down when commenting on the different things she spotted in the non-magical establishment. Draco handled the ordering and payment, allowing a bemused Padma to calm and redirect her daughter.

The food smelled greasy and salty and was served up with a healthy dose of vinegary goodness. Draco loved fish and chip nights – it was everything his own parents had never allowed. The walk to Muggle shops, talking to fellow patrons as if it were the most natural thing in the world, watching children and regulars get fussed over by the gruff woman at the till… it was simply a delight.

By the time the trio made it back to the house, Scorpius and Rafael were eagerly waiting. They tore bags from their hands and rushed them to the dining table, spreading out the greasy wrappings and dumping small packets of condiments around the chips.

After dinner, with Scorpius nodding off on the sofa with a full belly and the Nott children off to prepare for bed, Draco was startled to feel Hermione's card warming in his shirt pocket. He scooped it out with a hopeful smile, but it soon fell from his face as he read the short missive.

H upset, need ur help. Floo to 13 Grimmauld Place - GP

GP?

Did Draco even know anyone with those initials? Ginny Potter. Fuck. Draco assumed the address was the Potter residence, but he'd never been. He knew vaguely that it had been a Black family property at some point – he recalled his mother lamenting its loss to some 'half-blood mongrel' – and now assumed it had passed to Potter after Sirius Black's death.

Draco stood up abruptly.

"Dray?" Theo inquired from the chair across from him.

"I've got to go," Draco stuttered. "I've got a message," he added, waving the small card in the air, "something's wrong with Granger."

"Go," Padma cut off his spluttering. "We'll put Scorpius in with Raf for the night. Let us know if we can help."

Draco pressed a hasty kiss to his sleeping son's forehead and made toward the hearth.

"Thank you," he said in earnest as he took a handful of Floo powder. "I'll check in as soon as I can."

Draco called out the unfamiliar Floo address and tucked his elbows close as he went spinning off in the flames. Moments later, he stumbled onto the marble hearth of a stately sitting room. Ducking under the mantle, Draco cast his eyes around the large room, eyes catching on scattered toys and plush furniture that seemed so out of sync with the oppressive Victorian architecture of the room. He had a vague impression of high ceilings and ornate wooden panelling that had been coated in white paint, and then finally spotted the object of his search.

Hermione was reclined on a chaise lounge underneath a leaded-glass window that let in the yellowish streetlight. She looked incredibly cross, though the stubborn expression on her face was mirrored by both a fiery Ginny Potter – standing next to the lounge with her arms crossed across her chest – and a miniature version of her that was sat on Hermione's lap and staring at Hermione with a similar pose.

"Granger?" Draco ventured tentatively.

Hermione huffed out a sigh of frustration as he met Draco's eyes.

"She's overreacting," Hermione complained, narrowing her eyes at Ginny. Draco watched with concerned amusement as the tiny redhead (undoubtedly the recently-seven Lily Potter) leaned forward and poked Hermione assertively in the chest. "They both are," Hermione corrected with a growl.

"Circe's tits, Hermione," Ginny groused back. "Just relax, please. Lils, don't let her get up."

Lily Potter nodded resolutely at her marching orders and Ginny turned to Draco. She snagged his arm and dragged him from the sitting room and into a narrow, minty-green hall.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked. "What happened? And why is your daughter holding her hostage?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Ron was here when Hermione came by to drop something off for Harry, and they got into it. I haven't seen them row like that since Hogwarts, honestly. Harry had to drag Ron off through the Floo, but Hermione started getting dizzy. She almost passed out – I only just caught her and got her onto the couch."

The edges of his vision tinted red. Fucking Weasley.

"Why isn't she at St. Mungo's?" he bit out.

"Do you really think I can force her into hospital?" Ginny threw up her hands in exasperation. "Harry's her next of kin, anyway, not me – they wouldn't update me even if I could get her to Mungo's. I barely got her on that couch. I got a diagnostic on her as soon as I could get her to sit still, though. Her blood pressure was worryingly low and her heartbeat was much higher than it should be, but it's getting better as she's calming down."

"What did Weasley say to her?" Draco grit out. He craned his neck to see into the sitting room where Lily Potter still pinned a very pregnant Hermione to the chaise.

"I'm not going to repeat the things that came out of his mouth," Ginny said with obvious disgust. "I can't believe him, honestly. He's just never been able to be happy for her, really. We're lucky Hermione puts up with him."

Draco almost growled, an ire he hadn't felt in years bubbling to the surface. His jaw clenched tightly, pulling an ache from his molars. Ginny seemed to sense his rage and fixed him with a look.

"It won't do to have you intervening in this, either. Ron knows he's out of line. The rest of the family is behind you, you know. Hermione's as good as family and always has been, and that means you are now, too. Family means something to the rest of us, even if Ron forgets. I just need you to take care of that nonsense," Ginny finished with a flippant wave in Hermione's direction.

"What makes you think she'll listen to me?" Draco scoffed.

"She fought me on contacting you because she didn't want you to worry about Sage," Ginny said pointedly. "I had to force that card out of her hands because I didn't know how else to reach you. It means she cares about your reaction and doesn't want you to be upset or concerned. You have a sway I definitely don't."

"Do you think she needs Mungo's?" Draco asked in earnest. "Honestly."

Ginny shrugged. "My healing expertise is more suited to accidental magic and Quidditch injuries. Her blood pressure and heart rate have regulated, more or less, but she hasn't stood back up since. I don't know what will happen. I'm no expert in pregnancy – Merlin knows I absolutely fumbled my way through all mine. Harry read more books than I did, I just tried to keep my lunch down."

"Do you know a midwife or anyone who might come by, if she refuses to go to hospital?"

Ginny thought for a moment, her mouth twisted into a thoughtful moue. "Mum would come if we wanted – she has certainly birthed enough children to know a thing or two. But I don't think she'd be particularly calming for Mione right now, considering. Do you know any Healers who make house calls?"

Draco grimaced. "Y-yes," he said reluctantly. "But I hardly think Granger's going to go for it."

"Who is it?"

Draco sighed. He wracked his mind frantically for anyone else he could call upon before answering reticently.

"Pansy Parkinson."

Ginny snorted a laugh, reaching out to grab Draco's forearm in her mirth. "Oh, please call Parkinson," she giggled out. "I'd pay Galleons to see that."

Draco's smile came out more like a grimace, but he too saw the humour in the situation.

"Maybe the alternative will have her agreeing to go to St. Mungo's."

Ginny grinned and ushered him back into the sitting room ahead of her.

Hermione had risen to a seated position, Lily still perched resolutely on her lap. The child had dropped her crossed arms and was instead patting Hermione's swollen bump fondly.

"--gotta take care of my cousin, Auntie Mia," Lily said in a sing-song voice as they approached.

"I am, Lily," Hermione said testily. "You don't need to worry." The affection in her eyes belied her sharp tone, and Lily also seemed to see right through her posturing. She raised an auburn eyebrow at Hermione, her seven-year old face the epitome of disbelief.

"You can let her up now, Lils," Ginny interjected into the standoff.

Lily slid from Hermione's lap with a grumble, moving over to stand in front of Draco with resolute confidence. Draco suddenly found himself at the end of the wagging, green-lacquered finger of a small witch in mismatched unicorn pyjamas.

"You gotta take better care of my Auntie Mia," Lily said accusingly. She jabbed her finger in the air toward Draco, who startled everyone (including himself) by taking a step back in surprise at her aggression.

"I'm trying to," Draco reassured her. "Only other people aren't making it easy, are they?"

Lily rolled her eyes and nodded. A long-suffering sigh escaped her small body. "Uncle Ron is an arse and he can go stuff it."

Ginny reluctantly choked down a giggle and tried to admonish her youngest child, but managed only a half-hearted "That's not a very nice thing to say, Lily!"

"Uncle Ron isn't being a very nice person," Lily retorted back to her mother. "He made Auntie Mia cry and then she got sick. It's all his fault, and he should feel really, really bad about it."

"I know, sweetheart." Ginny knelt down and pulled Lily into her arms. "And I'm proud of you for sticking up for Auntie Mia. Uncle Ron isn't making good choices right now, but maybe we can focus on what we can do to help Auntie Mia instead of being angry, yeah?"

"Fiiiine," Lily let out on a groan.

Oh, this child was definitely his new favourite Potter. And favourite Weasley. Possibly his most favourite child ever (aside from his own, of course). From the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione fighting back a grin of her own.

"Thank you, sweetie," Ginny said with a consoling kiss to her head.

"Thank you for keeping Mia calm while your mum and I were talking," Draco said with a grin. "Do you think you can help me get her up off the couch? I want to take her to the hospital."

Hermione spoke over Lily's assent. "I'm not going to the hospital. I'm fine now. I just want to go home and take my potions."

Lily rolled her eyes at Draco before pulling a face at her (clearly) favourite aunt.

"Either go with him or I'll shove you through myself," the seven-year old said testily. "Mum says it's always better to be safe than sorry, and I don't want you to be sorry."

"She's right, Mione," Ginny chimed in, neglecting to chastise her daughter for her low-level threat. "A lot just happened and you need to get checked out. For both of your sakes." Draco was pretty sure he heard her mutter, "and my sanity" under her breath at the end of that.

Hermione started shaking her head. "I have an appointment in two days, Gin, I –"

"Granger, you're either going to St. Mungo's or I am getting someone to make a house call. You're going to be seen. Tonight."

Draco's voice was firm and brokered no room for retort, but Hermione was apparently geared up to try anyway.

"My Healer doesn't do house calls unless it's an actual birth or life-threatening situation, and I hardly think this constitutes an emergency. I'm not giving you their -"

"I will get someone else out," Draco interrupted. "Either St. Mungo's or a discreet house call. Your choice."

Hermione's eyes held a glint of steel as she cast her gaze between the three people standing forth as a united front. When she watched the diminutive but determined Lily Potter slip her freckled hand into Draco's grasp in solidarity, her glare finally softened in defeat.

"Fine," she said tersely. "But don't think I haven't caught on to your manipulation, Lily Potter," Hermione growled with a hint of a smile directed at her niece.

"I learned from the best, Auntie Mia," Lily sang out. From his vantage, Draco watched her smile sweetly and arch a challenging eyebrow. He squeezed the small hand appreciatively.

"I should have never allowed your mum and dad to procreate," Hermione sniffed at her. "None of us were prepared for the likes of you," she finished with a surreptitious wink.

A giggle escaped Lily and she dropped Draco's hand to be caught up in Hermione's hug.

"Love you, Lils," Hermione muttered into the fiery locks.

"Love you, too."

When they broke apart, Hermione met Draco's gaze. "I really don't want to bother a Healer. I'll be fine once I take my potion."

"We're seeing someone, Granger. The sooner you get on board the easier this will be."

"Does your Healer make house calls? Do they have experience with pregnancy?" Hermione asked rapid-fire as she allowed Draco to pull her to her feet and rest a steadying hand under her elbow.

"My personal Healer doesn't, but I have a Healer friend who does. She took care of-of Astoria during her pregnancy, lived in with us and everything." Draco tried to school his voice into a soothing tone as possible while he guided Hermione toward the Floo.

"Who is it?"

"Pansy Parkinson."

Hermione let out such a colourful string of curses that Ginny clapped her hands over Lily's ears.

Ultimately, after a brief summary of Pansy's skills (a lie, of course, as Hermione had questioned Draco for nearly twenty minutes) they exited the Floo in his house ("We can go to your flat soon if you're more comfortable, but I can't contact her from your place."), and Hermione agreed to allow Pansy to come check her over.

Thus, for the first time in months – too many, he knew – Draco knelt at the Floo, stuck his head in, and called out Pansy's address. As her flat came into view, Draco was treated to a surprising sight.

Pansy on her knees in front of her fiance.

"You know, you really should lock your Floo if you're going to be doing this in view of the fireplace," Draco drawled out. The figures on the sofa startled, turning to face his disembodied head.

He slipped easily into the teasing snark that defined their friendship. "Pretty good form, though, Parks. You're a lucky bloke, Macmillan."

Pansy lifted herself to her feet as Macmillan hastily tucked himself away, his face hotter than the flames surrounding Draco's own.

"Hey, Drake. To what do I owe the pleasure of your dreadfully overdue but poorly-timed call?" Pansy replied cooly.

"I need your help, urgently and confidentially," Draco said in an even tone. "Medical emergency."

"Is it Scorpius?" Pansy asked swiftly, righting her clothes and reaching for discarded shoes. "What are his symptoms?"

"It's not him, but -"

"Who, then?" Pansy interrupted, whirling to face him again.

"I was getting to that," Draco gritted out impatiently. "It's Granger. Can you come through, please? She – it's a high risk pregnancy. She's refusing Mungo's and I'm concerned."

Pansy sped up her dressing, whipping her wand out to summon a medi-kit.

"I don't have admitting privileges at Mungo's since I resigned," Pansy reminded Draco as she snatched her bag from mid-air. "If she goes, it will have to be under someone else's care."

"I know," Draco assured. "We're at my house. I just need your help here – we'll be waiting."

Draco retreated to find Hermione perched nervously on the edge of his sofa.

"Pansy is coming through," Draco updated her. "Let's get you more comfortable." He moved to help her tug off her shoes.

Draco was kneeling in front of Hermione in an amusing parallel of the scene he had just interrupted at Pansy's when the witch herself emerged in a whirl of green flames.

"Socks off too, Drake. I need to check for edema. Hiya Granger, long time no see."

"Parkinson," Hermione greeted cautiously. "Thank you for coming out. I hope Draco didn't inconvenience you for this – I feel fine."

"You weren't fine an hour ago," Draco argued as he pulled her purple socks from her feet.

"What happened?" Parkinson demanded of the room. She sat down next to Hermione unceremoniously, her wand already casting several simultaneous diagnostics. "And are you alright with Drake staying or should I kick him out?"

"He can stay," Hermione answered at the same time Draco spoke.

"Argument with Weasley. Ginny Potter said she got dizzy and almost fainted. Low blood pressure and elevated heart rate."

"Do you know what your blood pressure was?" Pansy asked seriously. "You're still a bit low, but that's not uncommon, really. You're what, twenty-six weeks based on cursory foetal size?"

"About thirty, actually," Hermione sighed as she allowed Pansy to move her legs around. "I've got some medical issues leftover from the war. She's small. Doesn't move much this time of night. But no, I don't know what the reading was – I was a bit busy not passing out."

"I'll say," Pansy quirked a perfectly manicured brow at her. "Even Scorpius was bigger than this little one," she added as aside to him. Draco smiled sadly at Pansy, and the two shared a commiserating look. "Can I touch you, Granger? I want to see if we can get her moving and see whether anything changes in the diagnostics."

"She's been on a potions regimen, Pans," Draco said from the side and Hermione consented to the exam. "For blood pressure."

"High or low?"

"High," Hermione answered. She winced as Pansy pressed her fingers into a sensitive spot low on her belly. "It's a new addition."

"Might just be too high of a dose. Did that hurt?"

At Hermione's nod, Pansy furrowed her brow and tucked her wand between her teeth to use both hands. As she palpated Hermione's abdomen, she asked Hermione to call out points of sensitivity.

A particularly sharp gasp had Draco lurching forward protectively, though he had absolutely no idea what to do.

"You're fine, Drake," Pansy assured him over her shoulder. "I thought that might be a sensitive spot," she added to Hermione. "Give me half a mo', I think I know what the problem is. Do you remember any pain before you got dizzy?"

Pansy's wand drew shimmering arcs in the air, weaving complicated, pulsing patterns over Hermione's skin as she answered in the affirmative.

"And have you had cysts before, Granger?"

At Hermione's negative response, Pansy clucked her tongue.

"Well, you have done now. Bad timing with that blood pressure issue, but you've got a ruptured cyst on your ovary, just here." She indicated a splotch of pinkish shimmer quite low on Hermione's body, rubbing it gently. "That's fluid in your abdomen. I'm not seeing any evidence of uncontrolled bleeding, but there definitely has been some. I don't see anything that indicates you'll need the hospital, though. I'd like you to take some precautionary antibiotics, just in case the cyst ruptured because of an infection. But I'll need to see your other potions first to make sure they won't interact. Are you comfortable with that?"

Hermione nodded. "Draco, would you be able to go get them for me? They're in the cabinet in my bathroom. Just bring the whole case. And if you need to check on Scorpius, please do."

"He's alright – he's over at the Notts' for the night. I'll be back soon."

"Get her some clothes, too, Drake. I don't want her moving through the Floo tonight if we can help it. You're to stay here, if that's alright?" Pansy added in an undertone to Hermione.

Hermione met Draco's eyes nervously. This wasn't something they'd done yet, after all, and Draco could see the hesitancy in her eyes. The prospect of her being here – in the home he shared with his son – was both exciting and nerve-wracking.

"Please stay, Granger."

She nodded after a moment, and Pansy called out a few more things for him to find at her flat.

Draco Flooed away to the sight of Pansy's hands on Hermione's stomach once more.

After persuading a reluctant Gertrude to take a quick missive to the Notts, Draco located Hermione's things easily and returned within a quarter hour to an empty sitting room. Straining his ear, Draco heard voices from the upper level and made for the stairs. Locating the two women in his own bedroom, Draco leant against the door frame to catch the end of their conversation.

"-- and he was just the tiniest thing, with that unnaturally blonde hair," Pansy was saying with a huff of laughter. She appeared to be settling Hermione onto the edge of Draco's bed, rubbing Hermione's swollen ankles with practised fingers. "I never expected that Malfoy hair would come out of Tori. It was a shock to her, too, I think. I'm happy his hair darkened a bit as he got older – I don't think I could handle a complete mini-Draco. But Scorpius was a delight, even early on."

"I adore him," Hermione confessed in a low voice. "I'm falling in love with that kid, I swear."

"He loves you, too, you know," Draco interjected, announcing his presence to the women.

Pansy and Hermione both smiled at Draco, though Pansy's leant more toward a smirk.

"He barely stops talking about you lately," Draco added. He moved into the room and handed a small potions box over to Pansy. "He can't wait to hear all about your adventures."

Hermione's smile grew soft as she leaned her head back against the stack of pillows propping her up.

"No more adventures for you now, Granger," Pansy warned good-naturedly. "Remember, half a dose of your potion in the mornings until you get into your Healer next week. I don't want to find out you're in hospital, and Draco will tell me." At that, Pansy fixed Draco with a hard stare. "Won't you?"

Draco nodded his assent.

"I know I'm not your primary Healer, Granger, but treating high-risk pregnancy is why I went through the Healer academy in the first place. And as you have seen, I do make house calls. With your consent, I'd like you both to keep me updated. It won't hurt to have someone else on your team when the time comes for the birth, or if something else of concern pops up."

"Yes, absolutely," Hermione nodded. "I really appreciate this, Pansy."

"Of course you do. I'm available whenever you need me. Draco knows my Floo address."

"Tell Ernie I said hello."

"Tell him yourself – the wedding is in two weeks. I expect you there, Granger. Draco's already been given his other plus-one and I've reworked the seating charts."

"Where is the wedding?" Hermione furrowed her brow with an inquisitive glance at Draco.

"Drake, why haven't you told her yet?" Pansy rolled her eyes at him and stood from the bed.

"It's been a bit of a busy evening, Pans. I only just got your letter yesterday, for Merlin's sake. We'll talk about it later."

"You may have become a hermit these last years, but I expect you to make your friend's nuptials a priority. You'll come, yes?" Pansy's tone lightened as she directed the last bit at Hermione, who offered a small smile and a nod.

"Lovely! Ernie will be delighted as well. Formal attire, of course. If you haven't anything that fits over this beautiful babe, Draco knows where to take you. There are happenings on both Saturday and Sunday – Draco will give you the rundown. I'm afraid it's too late to make many accommodations to the menu because the catering is set, but if there are any serious medical considerations please do let me know."

Draco groaned internally as Pansy rattled off additional details. He scrubbed a hand across tired eyes and allowed his gaze to rest on Hermione. She looked quite bemused, but was listening attentively to her former bully.

"Alright, Parks," Draco finally interrupted. "You have a fiance you left hanging back at your flat. Go home, and Granger and I will talk. But I really want her to get some rest after this evening."

Pansy sneered at him playfully before offering farewells and preceding him down the stairs.

Pansy hesitated at the Floo, turning to Draco with concern on her face.

"I told Granger and got her consent to share this, but you really need to keep an eye on her. I'm concerned about how widely her blood pressure is fluctuating and how she responded to that potion, and I think she needs another consultation with a Healer – preferably someone more specialised. If she has another flare-up of any symptoms, please contact me immediately. I don't care when."

"You're going to be on your honeymoon in a couple of weeks, Pans. We'll make it through." Draco heard the forced note in his voice, and Pansy's critical look told him she also noticed.

"Granger's stronger than Tori, Draco," she finally said, voicing his innermost fears. "It's not going to be easy, but both mum and baby are alright. And they'll stay that way, but you'll contact me if you need me, no matter where I am. I'm also going to pop 'round to Mungo's and see if I can get a special permit for privileges to be on call for her as an attending." Pansy leaned in to give Draco an affectionate pat on his jaw. "And goodness, with your features and her colouring, that's going to be one beautiful little girl. Provided she doesn't come out with your hair," Pansy teased. She wrinkled her nose in faux disgust and shoved his fringe back from his forehead playfully.

"It's not as bad as it was when I was younger," Draco griped back, swiping her hand away. He smoothed his hair back, thankful it no longer shone the glaring platinum of his youth.

"Thank the gods, because you looked like a peaky ghost when you were a child. Used to scare the bloody elves half to death."

Draco pulled Pansy into a tight hug, which she returned fiercely after a moment of surprise.

"You're going soft, Malfoy," she muttered into his ear.

"Yeah, yeah. You are too, Parkinson."

Hermione had changed into some comfortable clothes by the time Draco returned to his bedroom. It gave him an unexpected thrill to see her tucked up under his coverlet with her hair loose around shoulders exposed by the thin straps of her sleep shirt. Her tattoos were on full display as she idly flipped the pages in a book from his bedside table.

When she saw him return, she laid the book down on her belly, her bump creating a perfect shelf that made Draco grin.

"I have a confession," Hermione said with a twitch of a smile.

Draco arched one of his eyebrows at her, waiting for her to continue.

"I think I rather like Pansy Parkinson."

Draco chuckled, moving to sit on the edge of the bed next to her.

"She's changed quite a bit from our school days," he conceded.

"We all have," she responded softly. She reached out and snagged Draco's hand in her own, and Draco thrilled in the slide of her skin against his palm.

"But in all seriousness, I had no idea she was a Healer."

"She went through the academy when Astoria and I started trying for a child and it became obvious it was going to be difficult." Draco took a deep breath before continuing. "She and Astoria weren't that close really, not like she was to Daphne, but Pansy's quite skilled at herbology and proficient with potioneering. And we'd all developed something of a strong stomach – had to to survive, really. It wasn't much of a stretch to go into healing. She was on the wards at Mungo's for a couple of years before she got a bit burnt out, and has a private practice now. It's mostly midwifery and some paediatrics."

"I didn't keep up with her much after graduation," Hermione confessed. "Her or Ernie, really. I was a bit surprised to hear about their wedding, if I'm being honest."

"And now you'll be attending the socialite event of the season," Draco chuckled. "You've given Pansy your word, and only a serious medical or magical intervention will be accepted as an excuse for missing it."

"Is it really a two day event?" Hermione asked miserably. "Only it's just before the Wizengamot session adjourns."

"Yes, unfortunately. Saturday is a luncheon for friends and family, followed by the Ministry ceremony that afternoon. That and the reception – that's the big public event. Sunday will be a magical bonding at sunrise. A couple of meals scattered here and there."

"Will there be press?"

"Yes, on Saturday."

"Time to make our first public appearance, I suppose," Hermione said with the smallest of frowns.

Draco hummed, shrugging. "Or, if you'd prefer to tackle something smaller first, the Potters sent me an invitation to their masquerade this coming –"

"I'd forgotten about that," Hermione groaned.

"--weekend. I can turn it down. I'd have to find someone to mind Scorpius, anyway."

"No, it's actually great fun. Well, when you can drink. I've never been to it sober. And Molly would love to mind Scorpius, if you're comfortable with that. She can't wait to meet him," Hermione grinned.

"Maybe," Draco hedged. As much as he liked Ginny Potter, he wasn't sure about the rest of the Weasleys just yet.

"We can chat about it later," Hermione conceded. "I'm beat. I think I'll be asleep before I even get horizontal," she laughed.

Draco offered her a commiserating grin. "Then go to sleep, Granger. I've got a couple of things to take care of, but I'll join you in bed in a few minutes."

Draco slipped from the room as Hermione settled into the bed. He conceded to magically tidying the kitchen and locked everything up tight. No return owl had been received from the Notts', but Draco wasn't worried – Scorpius was in great hands there.

After a trip to the bathroom, he finally joined Hermione in bed. She was drowsing, but had the wherewithal to flop herself over closer to where Draco had settled under the covers.

"Thanks for taking care of me this evening," she murmured in a sleep-thickened voice. "I hate it, but I appreciate it."

Draco chuckled lightly and turned to rest an arm around her waist. He nuzzled into her hair where it fanned over the pillow and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead.

"Anytime, Granger. Now sleep. We'll talk in the morning."