I felt awful as I walked away from her - them - but Hermione was right, I had to go.

The first month was the easiest, the time difference wasn't that big so I could talk to her most days and nights. Hermione showered me with information, showing me all the books she had read and the ones she had yet to read. It was fascinating.

The way her body was actually growing another human. A bit of her and a bit of me. I had never expected to feel so enamoured by someone I hadn't met yet, but I wanted - no, needed - to know every detail of the pregnancy.

Hermione sent me pictures too, and not just the naughty kind. It was every new stretch mark, the way my t-shirts had stretched to accommodate the bump and all the cute little baby clothes she had found whilst shopping. All gender neutral.

We had decided that we quite liked the surprise of being pregnant, so why not keep the baby's sex a surprise too? Secretly, I hoped it was a girl. A mini Hermione. For me, nothing could be more perfect. Hermione wanted a boy for the same reasons.

I was lucky. We had a break in the tour, and I got to go home, just for a day. Not that I actually own a house anymore. No, I sold it before the tour started. My home is with Hermione. I surprised her, I'd called her boss the week before and asked them to let her have the day off but to keep it a secret.

They did. I arrived at her house just as she was about to leave and she froze, tears welling in those big brown eyes as she launched herself at me. We didn't leave her place all day. We talked names, decided on a colour for the nursery, planned anything that was possible to plan. Then, utterly exhausted we fell into bed. I didn't want to sleep, didn't want to miss a minute of Hermione and, just as she was about to drift off, the baby kicked. It was magical.

It was strange but addictive. As Hermione slept, I kept my hands on her swollen stomach, waiting with bated breath for the next movement, kissing her skin and talking endlessly to the baby.

The next three months were terrible. I'd had a taste of what I was missing, and I wanted more. I couldn't deal with how much I was missing out on. Every time I talked about coming home, Hermione would calm me down, reminding me that this was my dream. Always had been. But, what if my dream was something different now?

The band had finished touring Europe, and we were in Asia before we had to return to the USA, completing the final leg of our expansive tour.

Talking to Hermione became almost impossible, not that I wasn't inundated with videos of the baby moving, pictures of her and the bump growing. But I missed her. Could you really count endless messages and pictures, talking? It felt like years since I'd last heard her voice.

Fuck, I missed her.

I wanted to see her. I wanted to make her smile, watch the blush warm her cheeks as I told her just how fucking sexy she looked carrying my child. I yearned to hear her voice. I started calling her every night, knowing she wouldn't answer because she was asleep, leaving her voicemails so she could hear me, so she knew I was always thinking of her.

The distance was starting to take its toll. There were thousands of miles separating us, and I knew she was struggling too. It was there in her eyes on the odd occasion we actually got to video call. She looked tired. She still glowed, but it was a muted glow.

I felt like such a bastard, I should have been there for her. Up with her through the night when she couldn't sleep. Rubbing her muscles when they cramped and spasmed, but I wasn't.

My life had become an endless stream of rehearsals, interviews, shows and being on the damn bus. Confined with my bandmates who had no idea what I was going through. They partied. I joined in on the odd occasion, but I just felt it was wrong. What if I got too drunk and missed a call from Hermione? What if I wasn't there for her when she needed me?

I didn't want to be that guy who wasn't there for his girl.

Saying that, I never missed a doctor's appointment. No matter what the time difference, I was there, video chatting, listening and learning. I watched our child grow, move and heard its heartbeat, so strong like its Mother. I should have been by her side, physically, instead of digitally.

Around the eight-month mark, Hermione broke. I nearly got on a plane and told the band to find another guitarist. It was three am where I was, and she called me in tears. Not just tears, full on blubbering tears. I could tell she'd been at it for hours before she finally caved and called me. She was scared.

Scared that I'd miss the birth. Scared that she'd be an awful Mother. Scared that everything would change after she had the baby.

It broke my heart. I knew I shouldn't have listened to her, encouraging me to stay and live out my dream. What kind of dream was it when it left her alone? It wasn't until I put her on speaker phone and started frantically chucking anything I could find into my rucksack that she stopped. Promising me that she was ok, it was just the hormones, I didn't need to come back.

But, if I could just make time go faster on my side of the world, she would be grateful.

I kept her on the phone, texting Ginny to go over and check on her, until she had calmed down. I heard the doorbell ring in the background and her voice muffle as Ginny wrapped her in a hug. There was a murmured conversation, and then Hermione was thanking me for sending Ginny, how well I knew her, she really was ok now. I kept my passport in my hand, ready for Ginny to tell me I really did need to get my ass home, but that didn't happen.

It wasn't long after the outburst that I found myself sitting bolt up in bed, the strangest feeling of wrongness settling in my gut.

It had been too long.

I hadn't seen Hermione - in the flesh - for months now. It didn't matter that we were nearing the end of the tour. It wasn't soon enough. I needed to go home, now. With a quick glance around the bus, I realised I had nothing there I would miss. Passport in one hand, phone in the other, I woke Sev.

The drive to the airport was quick and my luck was in. There was a plane due to depart in a few hours for London, I bought my ticket and checked my social media whilst in the departure lounge. The last message I had from Hermione had been hours ago, figuring out the time difference, I realised she'd be asleep, well she should be anyway. I sent a quick message to Ginny, telling her I was coming back and my flight number, just so someone knew.

I wanted to surprise Hermione. Tell her face to face that I was home, I wasn't leaving again. I was ready for this.

Hours later, my mind was racing, I didn't understand why I was full of so much anxious energy, the need to see her was overwhelming, intoxicating. I wanted to ask the pilot to go just a bit faster, despite knowing that we were covering around 500 miles an hour. There was no quicker way to get home.

I wrote. Page after page of lyrics pouring out as I thought of Hermione, our child. It stunned me to realise how far we'd come since that day in the library. Maybe we had always been destined for one another. Was destiny a real thing? Would our life be something from a movie?

Better yet, would our life be better than the movies?

The plane landed and I was the first one off. I had nothing with me, nothing to slow me down, so I dodged and weaved my way through the meandering crowds. Standing in the stupidly long line for border control, I flipped my phone on, surprised when it went off like a bomb.

Never had I had so many messages, missed calls, failed Skype calls, emails - every form of communication was clogged up.

Hermione, Sev, Hermione, Hermione, Hermione, Blaise, Hermione, Theo, Hermione, Gregg…

I don't remember reading any of Hermione's messages, I just remember moving, pushing my way to the front of the line and slapping my passport down.

Now I needed to get through. I needed to be with her.

People complained - arrogant prick, self-indulgent bastard - I ignored all their comments and stared down the border official, daring him to send me to the back of the line.

Something in my eyes must have warned him not to fuck with me. He let me through, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Momentarily, of course, I had no idea how to get where I needed to be. My mind felt foggy and then someone was shouting my name.

My name gets shouted a lot.

I ignored them. I didn't have the time for them. Not now.

My phone rang and I jumped, answering the call without even reading the name on the screen. Being called a prick and told to turn around confused me, but I did it. My eyes landing on none other than Harry freaking Potter.

With a jerk of his thumb, I was following him, exiting the airport and running to his car which he started quickly. Before I knew it, we were on the motorway, the scenery whizzing past us in a blur.

There were a few words of comfort. Ginny was with her, as were her parents. She wasn't expecting me to make it, she just wanted to hear my voice. Everything had been so sudden but she was fine.

My heart wouldn't stop trying to beat out of my chest. Should I call her and tell her I'm on my way? We weren't that far from the city centre. I knew her. If I called, she'd hold on, wait for me to turn up, and that wouldn't help.

I had to be there in time without her knowing. I had to live up to her expectation that I always defied the impossible.

Thank the powers above that I got out of bed, I got on that plane, and I wasn't detained at the airport for acting like a prick.

We skidded to a halt outside the tall, imposing building. Harry gave me instructions and wished me luck, I could barely speak.

My brain repeated the instructions and I found myself on the right floor in no time. The nurse recognised me, ushered me quickly down the hall and outside the door where I could hear Hermione's colourful curses, their volume shook the hinges.

I hesitated.

Was I ready for this?

Then I heard her whimper my name. Why isn't he calling? The door gave way easily as I turned the knob.

Hermione looked up. Her face stunned for a quick moment before another contraction twisted pain upon her features. She released Ginny's hand and reached out to me, I surged forward - barely noticing as Ginny moved out of the way - my arm flawlessly replacing hers as it held up Hermione's leg.

She was red-faced, her usually curly hair stuck to her face with sweat, but that didn't matter.

I was there. I'd done it, defied the odds, and was present for the birth of my child.

With our foreheads resting against each other, her hand cradled against my chest as I uttered endless words of encouragement, our child was born. I'd got there just in the nick of time. Hermione collapsed back, her chest heaving with exhaustion as the baby's cry rang out in the room.

I kissed her - there are no words to describe how I felt in that moment - and she kissed me. Then the nurse came over, placing the little bundle into Hermione's arms as she announced that we had a little baby girl.

Baby Girl Malfoy, Hermione said, her voice weak from her screams, but my heart soared. The conviction in her voice blew me away. I knew I had everything I ever needed right there. I looked down at my girls. Hermione gently cooing to our baby, her little head smattered with wispy blonde locks as she squirmed against her pink blankets.

When Hermione looked up at me, I'm sure the world stopped turning. A thousand words passed between us and we both knew this was it. The start of our lives together - a family.

I'm sat here now, holding my child as she sleeps, staring at the woman I love wondering how the hell I got so lucky.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I shimmy it out, realising it's a video call from Blaise, I turn the volume down and slide my thumb across the screen to answer it. The screen flashes to life and I quickly mumble a "Sssh," before they can all start shouting out. I see myself for the first time, in that little screen nestled in the corner, and I look different. I'm not sure if it's the sleeping child on my chest or a new spark in my eye, but I am not the same person anymore.

The lads cheer - albeit quietly, for which I am grateful - and then I am bombarded with questions. Did I make it in time? How does it feel? When can they meet her? It makes me realise that these guys get me. They know what is important. We can have all the fame we like, but it counts for nothing if we miss out on amazing moments like this one.

Hermione stirs, and I bid them a hasty goodbye, sealed with a promise of a picture showing off my happy little family. I already have one. Taken when I had climbed into the bed with Hermione - after everyone else had left - and just held her, them, and Hermione had fallen asleep, wrapped perfectly around me and our precious daughter.

As Hermione's eyes open, so do the baby's, just for a moment, and I am once again struck by the amount of love I have for them both. I don't want anything else, I don't need anyone else - just them. My brain quickly reminds me of the item sat in my wallet, something I have been carrying around ever since I found it, Hermione is barely awake but the words slip from my lips before I can stop them.

"Marry me?" I ask, moving so I can flip my wallet open with one hand and retrieve that perfect diamond ring, before my knee sinks to the floor, our baby still nestled in the crook of my arm sleeping soundly.

There are more words, declarations, promises, and as I become more nervous - she hasn't said anything yet - I notice the smile on her face is getting wider and wider. That's when I know I have her. I stand, the question still shining in my eye as I take her left hand, hovering the ring over her finger, just waiting for her to say yes.

It's done with a nod - for the first time ever, words have failed Hermione Granger. I'm back on the bed again, embracing her, kissing her, and after a while, we just lie there. Content to bask in the afterglow.

The following day Hermione is released from the hospital and the band play their final show. We are enjoying a moment of silence when my phone pings, alerting me that the band has just started a live video, I double tap it open and watch as they shred into the first song. When they pause after - breaking our well-rehearsed set - I know they are up to something.

All of a sudden, the stage is lit and they are talking to the crowd, explaining my absence, before Theo - the bloody bastard - points up to the big screen and screams a congratulations to Drakey and the soon to be Mrs Malfoy on the arrival of their beautiful baby girl. Complete with the picture I took of Hermione and I, cuddling our newborn.

Even through a phone, the roar of the crowd is deafening, Hermione giggles, making a comment that they certainly know how to put on a show, before rushing off to soothe the baby.

The screaming dies down and the boys dedicate the rest of the show to baby girl Malfoy. I shut my phone off, Hermione is settling back in next to me with the baby in her arms. We really need to settle on a name for our little cherub, she can't be baby girl Malfoy forever. No matter how much I like it. I pull the list of names forward, it's changed so much since we first wrote it, and ask the baby who she thinks she is.

Is she a Madison? A tribute to the venue I played when Hermione came to visit? Or is she a Pandora? Already bestowed with the gifts of beauty and musical ability? Or perhaps, an Alice? A classic name which references the book she loved hearing Hermione read? The adventures making her kick and squirm the most?

Hermione repeats the questions, kissing the baby's' tiny fist as it grips her finger and then, as she repeats the questions a second time our little girl gurgles. We look to each other and know that's it, that's the name.

Madison Malfoy has a nice ring to it, don't you think?