Four Months Later

Hermione

As soon as I wake up, my stomach turns and I jump out of bed, running for the bathroom. When I get there, I drop to my knees in front of the toilet and immediately start vomiting my brains out. I've never been so fucking thankful that I sleep with my hair tied back. The queasiness doesn't abate after I've been sick, so I stay where I am. I flush the toilet and cast a Scourgify to clean it. I fold my arms on the seat and rest my head on them.

About twenty minutes later, I decide it's probably safe to get up if I haven't been sick again. I brush my teeth and make my way back into the bedroom, climbing into the bed and cuddling close to Draco again.

"Where'd you go?" he murmurs against my shoulder, dropping a kiss there the way he always does when he's about to start seducing me.

The thought of getting fucked into the mattress makes me queasy again. The thought of all that movement… No. Not happening today.

I roll onto my back and look up at him. "I think I've got a stomach bug. You might want to keep your distance."

His expression isn't filled with disgust; all I can see is concern. "Oh, sugar quill, I'm so sorry," he says, pressing his lips to my forehead. "You don't feel feverish or anything."

"Well, that's something. At least I won't be sweating or shivering," I reply, my voice taking on a whiny tone.

He rolls me back to my side and spoons me again, his hand settling over my abdomen and rubbing small circles over it. "Don't worry, Granger. It's my turn to take care of you."

The vomiting persists all week and I start to worry. Draco hovers, constantly asking me what I need, and I snap at him.

And then I cry because I'm being a horrible bitch and he's only trying to help me.

"It's okay," he soothes, making me hate myself even more. "You're not well, Hermione. I'm so glad we're back in London in a few days so you can see your Healer."

I miss three press events, and every single time Draco leaves without me I worry that someone else will catch his eye and I cry even more. While I know this is ridiculous — he's told me he's in love with me over and over — my mind won't stop jumping to the worst-case scenario.

When he gets back from his event in Milan, I attack him at the door, smashing my lips against his and loosening his tie. The whole time he'd been gone I'd been planning this, anticipating the pleasure I knew he'd bring me. I'm wet and needy and wearing nothing but a lacy bra and knicker set that leaves nothing to the imagination.

Oh, and it matches the colour of his new Quidditch robes. Draco is officially the Seeker for the Falmouth Falcons for the upcoming season and will be residing in his London flat full time.

"Fuck, Granger," he groans. "Let a bloke get in the door."

His palms skim my body and grab my bare arsecheeks. My mouth moves down to his neck.

"Someone's feeling better," he says, his voice laced with arousal. "I've missed you so much."

I grow frustrated with his clothes, think to myself that I should just vanish them, and then they're gone. "I'm sorry!" I blurt. "I didn't mean to—"

He kisses me again, signalling how little he cares. His erection is straining towards me, desperate for my touch. When I grab it, he moans against my lips. "Bedroom, Granger," he growls. "Let's do this properly."

Releasing him, I turn and start walking towards the bedroom. "Fuck," I hear him mutter under his breath. When I look over my shoulder, I see his eyes are on my arse and legs. "You're so sexy, sugar quill."

I smirk to myself and crawl on the bed. Before I have a chance to turn over, he grabs my hips and holds me in place, his lips moving to my spine and kissing down along the curve of my arse, landing on my inner thigh and sucking hard. I cry out, feeling his tongue lick over the damp knickers before he sucks on the skin of my other thigh.

"You're soaked for me," he says, and I don't answer. I know he's right. "Do you want me to eat your cunt like this?"

As much as I want him to, I shake my head. I want to feel him inside of me — no foreplay, no teasing or waiting.

"I need you," I whine.

He gives in — gives me what I want — and lays on the bed. "I'm yours, Granger. Do whatever you'd like to me."

I straddle him, pulling my knickers to the side and sinking down. We both groan when we connect, and Draco's hands move to my waist, holding me in place. When I try to move, he grips me more firmly.

"Wait. If you want this to last more than a minute, you need to slow down."

His hands climb up my ribs, caressing my skin, and land on my breasts. His fingers slide into the flimsy cups, pulling them down and fully exposing me. When his palms graze my nipples, I feel a zap of sensation and my pussy clenches.

"Oh, Gods," I moan. "It's been so long. I'm so sensitive."

He laughs. "It's only been a week."

"Touch me," I plead. "Please, Draco."

He moves his hips and I counter his motion, rocking against him when he's deep inside of me. We continue this way — hands and gentle movements — until I'm panting for more, and then he sits up and sucks my nipple into his mouth. Hard. And it's pain and pleasure all wrapped into one, making me see stars behind my eyelids, his constellation blinking back at me.

His climax immediately follows mine and he pulls me against his chest.

After a few minutes, he says, "Maybe I'll have to deny you more often. I like your body this responsive."

"I'm just glad the nausea's gone," I reply, and his hands stroke up and down my back.

"Get some rest. If you're better, I want you to stay that way."

The next morning, I make a mad dash for the toilet again and come to a horrifying realisation.

Overly sensitive nipples. Crying. Mood swings. Vomiting with no other symptoms. Accidental magic last night.

We'd been on the press tour for four months.

We'd been having sex at least once a day until the nausea kicked in.

I'd not stopped in any country to buy my potion.

I look down at my still-flat abdomen and burst into tears. I don't need to see a Healer to figure out what's going on with me.

I already know.

When I sneak back into the bedroom, Draco is still sleeping. Slipping into a dressing gown, I move out to the main area of the suite and grab my wand and my BlackBerry. After I step out onto the balcony, I call Ginny.

"Are you home yet?" she asks in lieu of a greeting.

I swallow hard, trying to control my voice. "I'm not yet. We're coming home tomorrow."

"I can't wait to see you!" Ginny shrieks. "And Malfoy! Gods, Harry said you were so nauseating—"

"Speaking of nausea," I interrupt. "Can you tell me about the charm to—"

"No!" she responds. "Hermione, you're not—"

"I don't bloody know! I think I am. I want to check before I panic even more," I reply.

I hear her sigh, and then she explains what I have to do. I cast the charm on myself and, sure enough, a tiny light settles over my abdomen and starts pulsing.

"Fuck," I whimper. "How could I have been so careless?"

"So you're—"

"Pregnant. I'm pregnant, and he's going to freak out," I manage before I burst into tears.

"Is the light steady? Or flickering?" Ginny asks.

"Flickering," I respond.

"So you're at least seven weeks along. That's the baby's heartbeat," she tells me. "I'm not trying to be insensitive, Hermione, but aren't you on the potion?"

"I didn't fill my prescription before I left and I forgot all about it," I admit, my hand covering the small light. "Ginny, I told him he didn't have to worry about getting me pregnant, that I had it covered."

I can picture her standing in Grimmauld Place, trying to figure out what to say to me to calm me down.

I hear her take a deep breath. "Well, shit happens, Hermione. You're pregnant. And if you want to keep this baby, then he can either get on board or fuck right off. Harry and I would help you raise him or her if you need us to. You know that."

"I know. But things have been so good and now I've ruined everything—"

"Stop, Hermione. You haven't ruined anything. You got caught up in the romance of travelling around the world and falling in love all at once. It could happen to anyone," Ginny says. "Now, I want you to march into that bedroom and tell him exactly what's going on. If he freaks out, call me back, and I'll send Harry to get you straight away."

"I'm not ready! I only just found out!"

She laughs. "Babe, you're never going to be ready for this. There is no right time or way. If you hide it, it'll be worse when you actually do tell him."

I think for a moment. "I know he'll be upset either way."

"Do you want to keep the baby, Hermione?" she asks.

I don't even have to consider it. "Yes. It's not how I planned things, but I've always wanted to be a mother."

"Then tell him. If he's not ready for it, better to deal with the heartbreak now," she says, her voice soft and kind. "We're here for you either way."

Sighing, I agree with her and try to figure out how to tell him. After I hang up, I sit in one of the chairs on the balcony, my hands twisting together with nerves. I stare out over Milan, not really feeling the winter air. I should be cold, but I'm just numb to everything right now.

I have no idea how much time passes, but eventually, the door slides open and I hear Draco's voice.

"Hermione, what the fuck are you doing? It's January and you're barely dressed! How long have you been out here?"

A tear rolls down my cheek, and I turn to face him, my lips parting to speak. But nothing comes out.

Draco's eyes roam over me and he lifts me out of the chair, bringing me inside and carrying me into the bedroom. He promptly covers me with the blankets and sheets and climbs in beside me, pulling me close.

"Granger, you're half frozen. We need to warm you up." I start crying again and try to stifle the sounds. Draco adds, "Please, Hermione, tell me what's wrong. What's going on with you?"

I let go and cry harder, sobs racking through me as he holds me. I can't help but think that once he knows what's really going on, he probably won't hold me like this anymore. He'll think I did this on purpose, like he thought Pansy and Astoria were going to.

"You're scaring me," he says, his lips against my ear. "Talk to me, sugar quill."

"I c-can't," I stammer. "You're going to h-hate me."

He forces me to my back and smooths the errant hairs away from my face. "It's not possible for me to hate you. I'm in love with you, remember?"

And my puffy eyes take in his expression, the way his face is filled with nothing but concern for me. His silver eyes are focused on me, examining everything they can easily see.

"Can you g-get my w-wand?" I sob.

He looks confused but heads back to the balcony, and I realise then that he's still fully naked. I don't know how I missed it before.

When he gets back into bed, he hands me my wand, and I sit up and pull the covers back, opening my robe. I look at him, an apology in my eyes, and cast the charm again. The little light flutters over my abdomen.

"I m-messed up," I begin, but his eyes are fixated on the light.

"Is that — are you…?"

His hand settles on my stomach, and the light hovers above it, shifting to a light shade of pink. I gasp when it happens.

"You're pregnant?" he asks, more steady this time.

I nod, tears escaping my eyes again. "I'm sorry—"

Cutting me off, he asks, "How? I thought you were on the potion, Hermione."

He doesn't sound angry, but he's not happy, either.

"I was due to take it a few weeks after we started the trip, and I forgot all about it. I swear, Draco, it wasn't on purpose. I'm not trying to trap you—"

He silences me with a kiss. "I know, Hermione. I don't think you'd ever do something like that to a bloke." Pausing, he sighs and runs a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. "It's just… a lot to take in. We're going to have a baby."

"A daughter," I say quietly.

His head snaps up. "How do you know?"

"Put your hand on my stomach again," I say, and he does. "See? When your hand is there, it turns pink."

"And that means it's a girl?" he asks.

I shrug. "I'm not sure what else it would mean. I'm going to have to see a Healer when we get back to London to be sure, but—"

He kisses me again, moving his hand from my stomach to my shoulder and pushing me back to the bed. He climbs on top of me and settles between my legs, his lips moving to my ear. "A daughter. We're going to have a daughter," he whispers. "The first female Malfoy in a whole lot of generations."

My heart swells and then cracks. I force my words out. "The first half-blood Malfoy."

Pulling back, he says, "Don't call her that, Hermione. Do you think I care? Do you think it makes me love her — or you — any less?" The rage I was expecting is seeping into his voice now. "Of course I knew when we had children that they'd be half-blood, and that didn't matter to me at all."

I grab his shoulders. "I'm sorry. I had to — I wanted to know if it bothered you."

"If it mattered, I wouldn't be with you," he says, and he's still angry. "I didn't think the past was a problem for us anymore. Why do you—"

Pulling him down, I kiss him softly. "It's not a problem, but this was unplanned. Unexpected. I just…" I pause. "It would've been different if we were married. Or trying to get pregnant. I'd feel more sure then."

"You want to get married, Granger?" he asks.

My heart stops. I don't know how to respond.

"Because I'll marry you today if that's what you want. Or we can wait until the baby comes, or five years. It's whatever you want, sugar quill." Draco's lips move gently against mine for a moment. "But, one day, you will be my wife. You will be a Malfoy. That's not negotiable."

And then he kisses me hard, stealing the small amount of breath I'd managed to hold onto.

Draco

As soon as we get back to London, I take Hermione to St. Mungo's. I need more details. I need to know when this baby — potentially my daughter — is going to be here. I hold onto Hermione like she could slip away at any time, probably because I'm still afraid that she will.

I didn't want things to happen this way — this soon, in this order — but when something's meant to be, it'll be. I've learned that now.

When we step into the Healer's office, I see a man sitting behind a desk, and I'm horrified.

"Granger, you didn't tell me your Healer was a bloke," I hiss.

She rolls her eyes at me, and I want to smack her arse. "He's a medical professional, Draco. Calm down."

"But when you have the baby—"

"It won't be anything I haven't seen before, Mr. Malfoy," the Healer interrupts. "I've been a Healer for over ten years. I've not yet stolen a pregnant woman away from her partner."

I glare at him.

"Draco, seriously? Do you want to find out about this baby or not?" Hermione says.

I guide her to the chair across from the Healer's desk, swallowing everything else I want to say to the smarmy bloke. I don't want his hands anywhere near Granger's… lady parts.

I can't bring myself to say pussy or cunt or anything like that in this context.

"So, you're expecting," he says, and Hermione nods. "Lovely. How far along are you?"

I watch as she blushes. "I'm not exactly sure. At least seven weeks since the charm revealed a heartbeat."

"Not to worry. We'll sort you out, Ms. Granger."

And I hate the way he says her name, like he's pointing out that she's still available even though I'm sitting right beside her.

The Healer stands and leads us to a new room. Granger hops up on the exam table and he whips his wand out. "Can you lift your shirt up?"

I hold back my protest, knowing that he'll be helping to bring our baby into the world down the line.

I watch as he waves his wand over her abdomen, creating some sort of image above her. "Mr. Malfoy, would you like to see your baby?"

"Of course," I reply, and he levitates the image.

I see a tiny blob that's vaguely connected to another blob. He runs his wand over her again, and this time, I can see what looks like little arms and legs starting to grow.

I want to cry.

"Based on these scans, Ms. Granger, I'd say you're roughly nine or ten weeks along," he explains. "That means you're likely due in late July."

"I wanted to ask you something," Granger begins. "I did the charm at home, and when Draco put his hand in the light, it turned pink. Does that mean the baby is a girl?"

The Healer shakes his head. "It just means he's the father."

I swallow hard. I'd gotten so excited, imagining a little girl with curly hair somewhere between Malfoy blonde and brunette.

"I can perform a different charm to tell you the gender if you'd like," he offers.

Granger looks to me and I know she can see the emotions in my eyes, even if my face is stoic. "What do you think?" she asks.

I nod. "I'd like to know now."

She smiles and turns to the Healer. "Okay. I'm ready."

Again, his wand moves over her and after a few seconds, the tip of it glows pink, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

A girl.

While I'd be happy with a healthy baby either way, the idea of this little girl has settled into my heart, and I'm happy that I don't have to readjust.

"Well, it looks like you are having a girl!" he says exuberantly, and Hermione smiles.

"Excellent. Is there anything else I should know?" she asks eagerly.

The Healer lists off vitamins and dietary concerns, and gives her the title of a book he recommends and sets up her next appointment. "Do you have any concerns?"

Hermione explains her nausea and vomiting and he gives her a supply of potions.

"These should take care of that. I wouldn't want you to end up sick or dehydrated." After a moment, he smirks and adds, "And try to stay out of danger, Ms. Granger. I know that's difficult for you, but remember that it's not only you now. You've got a baby inside you."

His words make me freeze. He's absolutely right. My daughter is growing inside of a woman who runs headfirst into danger on a scarily regular basis.

"I will," she says. "It'll be only office work and finishing my masteries from now until the baby is born."

As we walk the red carpet for the Quidditch World Cup Winners' party, I'm struck by the way Granger is still trying to guard me. She stands in front of me at every opportunity, even though we're at home and it's much more important for her to be safe now.

I keep trying to switch places with her, but she won't have it.

"Draco, if you're in no danger, then it doesn't matter what bloody side I'm walking on!" she complains. "Let's get through these photos and get inside!"

"Ms. Granger! How has it been guarding the Dragon?" a reporter shouts.

In response, Hermione laughs. "He's a right pain in the arse, but it worked out quite well. I'm sure you know that already."

And she turns and kisses me, prompting flashes, cheers, and shouted questions. We ignore it all, just kissing and then waving when we part, proceeding into the party.

When we walk through the door, we're greeted by the Potters and Blaise. Everyone keeps handing Hermione champagne, and Ginny looks at her sympathetically when she refuses. Potter looks green around the gills, and Blaise raises an eyebrow at me. I nod, signalling to him that there is a reason for her abstinence. He's smart enough to keep quiet.

The night is filled with dinner and dancing, an official presentation of the World Cup, and speeches from Abbott and some of my teammates. Much to my surprise, I'm given the honour of MVP, even though I played like shite in Ireland.

When I step up to the podium, I clear my throat. "Thank you. It's been such an honour to spend the past seven years playing Quidditch on the English National Team. As you all know, I was lost after the war, and I was so grateful to be given the opportunity to try out and then play with the team. It gave me the distance I needed from things here in England, and I will be forever in Abbott's debt." The crowd chuckles when I grin at my coach. "This year was special for so many reasons. I knew going into the season that it would be my last playing on the international team—"

Reporters start shouting and I hold up my hand, asking them for silence. "I will answer all your questions after I get this out. Please wait until then." Once things have quieted down, I continue. "Like I said, this year was my last on the international team, and it honestly worked out wonderfully. As you may or may not know, a certain Golden Girl has bewitched me over the course of the World Cup, and I'm ready to settle down at home again. That being said, I'm thrilled to announce that I'll be playing Seeker for the Falmouth Falcons starting in a few weeks."

Again, I'm flooded with questions and I answer as many as I can. After ten minutes I cut it off, making my way back to Hermione. The cameras capture us kissing again, her hand on my jaw and love in her eyes.

"I'm so proud of you," she says. "That was brilliant. You handled all of the reporters so well."

"Draco."

At the sound of my name in my father's voice, I stiffen, and Hermione pushes my hair out of my face. She stands before I do, readily meeting my father's gaze.

"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy," she greets.

I watch as they size each other up. It's clear my father was expecting Granger to ignore his presence, but she's eagerly meeting his challenge, and he doesn't know what to make of her.

"Ms. Granger. How lovely to see you," he drawls.

Hermione's fingers lace through mine and I find my voice. "Father, I didn't expect you to be here."

"Yes, well, I couldn't miss your party," he begins. "Though I have to admit, I thought you'd finally be retiring from this silly game to take over the company."

When Hermione's magic dances along my palm, I squeeze her hand, trying to tell her that I'll handle him. "Well, as I told you before, I'm not interested in running the company, Father. I'm perfectly fine making my own way."

"Obviously. You know, I had lined up a contract with the Greengrasses—"

"No," I say firmly. "I'm not interested. In case you haven't noticed—" I raise our joined hands, kissing the back of Hermione's "—I'm with Hermione, and that won't be changing anytime soon."

Clenching his jaw, he steps closer so he can speak more quietly. "This… dalliance is unbecoming."

"This is not a dalliance," I hiss. And even though I know it's much too soon to tell, I add, "She's carrying your grandchild, Father, so either get on board or disinherit me."

Hermione quickly casts a Muffliato.

My father pulls back and looks down at Hermione's flat stomach. "Is that so, Draco? How careless of you — letting someone like her trap you into a marriage."

"I've not said anything about marriage," Hermione responds. "We're together. We're having a baby. We don't have to get married."

When I see the look on his face, I want to laugh. Granger's managed to stun him silent.

"Right. Father, feel free to arrange a time to come by the flat with Mother. We can talk this through somewhere without reporters."

With that, I loop my arm around Granger's waist and guide her to the dance floor, eager to focus on her and her alone.

Six months later…

"I fucking hate you, Malfoy!" Hermione screams. "I had the right idea in third year when I punched you in the face."

Biting the inside of my cheek, I let her berate me and squeeze my hand. After all, I'm sure worse things have been said during childbirth.

The fucking male Healer is sitting between her parted thighs, waiting for our daughter to make an appearance. After reading books that detailed what could happen during a birth, I had decided to stay firmly by Hermione's side. There are just some things a bloke doesn't need to see.

"Okay, Hermione. I think one more good push should do it. Are you ready to meet your daughter?" he says.

She glares at him. "What kind of fucking question is that?! Of course I want to meet her! Do you think I'm doing this for nothing?"

I can see that he wants to laugh, but he manages to hold it back. "Okay. It's time. Push."

Hermione looks up at me. "I don't think I can do this."

Rolling my eyes at her, I reply, "Sugar quill, you can do anything you set your mind to. You read the books and took the birthing classes and I'm right here. Squeeze my hand, punch me, do whatever you need to do. Just push once more and she'll be here."

She takes a deep breath. "And you still love me?"

Immediately, I lean down and press a kiss to her sweaty forehead. "Of course I do. I love you more than I've ever loved anything."

Granger lets go of my hand and grips the bars on either side of her bed. Her face gets even more red as she pushes and I can hear the Healer encouraging her. After another minute, he says, "And you're all done, Mrs. Malfoy!"

A second later, a cry fills the room and I turn towards the sound. My daughter is coated in a whole lot of disgusting gunk I could've lived without seeing, but she's perfect. Her little arms and legs are moving around and I can tell her hair is more like mine than her mother's.

The Healer gets her cleaned up, swaddles her, and then brings her to Hermione. When she takes our baby for the first time, I can feel my eyes welling up. We may have gotten pregnant by accident — way too soon — but this moment is perfect, just like our quiet wedding at the Ministry had been. Just the two of us in our bubble, our life changing in an instant.

"Hi there," Hermione coos. "Oh, you have your Daddy's hair, beautiful girl." Her palm smooths over the baby's head and then she looks up at me. "She's so tiny and perfect."

Swallowing hard, I nod. "She is."

"You're the biggest softie I've ever met in my life, Draco Malfoy," she says. "Come closer. Meet your daughter."

Leaning down, I kiss Granger's forehead again and then do the same with my daughter. "Hello, Carina. It's wonderful to finally see you."

The baby slumbers on as the Healers finish up with Hermione. She scoots over in the bed when she can and pats the space beside her. I carefully climb in and we both sit there, watching our daughter sleep.

While I just relax there, I think about how all this came to be. A threat to my life gave me a new life — one I'd never dreamt of.

Three years later

Hermione

As I sit in my living room, I find myself thinking back to the first time I entered this penthouse flat, expecting to meet the same tosser I'd known at Hogwarts all over again. I can't help but smile — while he'd still been cocky, his views on so many things had changed, and my life had changed for the better as soon as he'd re-entered it.

I can hear Draco in the other room, trying to get Carina ready. At three years old, she's already a handful. Mostly because she's her daddy's little princess and he's spoiled her rotten. Since the day she was born, she's had Draco wrapped around her tiny finger.

"But I want to wear Aunt Ginny's shirt!" she protests.

I can imagine the look on Draco's face. "Carina, you can't wear that one today. We all have to be Malfoys."

"I don't want to match Callie!"

I let out a sigh. Carina is much like I imagine Draco would've been like as a child if he'd had a sibling — jealous and prone to tantrums.

"Okay, love. Why don't you wear the red one and I'll put Callie in the gold?" Draco says, trying to compromise with a toddler.

A few moments later, Carina runs out, her blonde curls bouncing behind her. "Mum! What colour do you have?"

"Red," I answer, and she squeals in delight.

"Me too!"

Draco follows her a moment later, holding Callie against his hip. "And Callie and I have gold. We don't want to wear red like Gryffindors, do we?"

Callie nods and then shakes her head, unsure of the appropriate response. She's not even two years old yet, so she just goes along with whatever we say.

After we got through the first year with Carina, Draco had asked me if I'd be willing to have another baby, telling me that he didn't want our daughter to grow up alone like we both had. I'd agreed and we decided to start trying for baby Malfoy number two. I'd thought it would take a few months — or even a year — but we apparently have crazy baby-making skills.

Or we have so much sex that the chance of conceiving is much higher than usual.

Either way, I'd gotten pregnant the first month we'd been officially trying, and Callie had arrived in April.

Since we'd fallen together during that World Cup, I've finished my masteries and kept up with all my security training. I've designed wards for nearly every building or stadium in wizarding Britain.

Draco never put his career in front of mine or expected me to put my dreams on hold to be a stay-at-home parent.

As Draco approaches me, I smile, even though he just made a jab at my house.

"Gold is also a Gryffindor colour," I remind him.

"Oh, I'm aware," he replies, leaning down to kiss my cheek. "Are you ready to go?"

I pull my hair up into a ponytail and secure it with an elastic. "I think so. What about you? Are you ready to announce to everyone that you're the new Seeker for Puddlemere United?"

Draco sighs. "I don't know why I let Wood talk me into changing teams. It's not like it changes my job any."

"Half your World Cup team plays for Puddlemere now! Admit it — you missed them."

Carina interrupts us. "Mum! Will Aunt Ginny be there?"

"I don't know, sweetheart. Baby Lily will be coming any day now. She's probably very tired."

Pouting, she looks to Draco. "Can you make her come? I want to see James and Albus."

He shakes his head at her. "No, but your grandmother and grandfather will be there. I'm sure they'll be very excited to see you." Once Carina starts babbling about Lucius and Narcissa, Draco leans in to whisper in my ear. "We'll have to even the score, you know."

When I realise what he means, my jaw drops and I gape at him, but it's all for show. I'm not surprised that he wants another child; the man was born to be a father. "This isn't a competition or a Quidditch match!"

A laugh escapes his lips. "But it's so fun to make babies with you, sugar quill. You know it brings you lots of pleasure ."

Settling a hand over my stomach, I say, "Well, you're generous with the pleasure either way."

His pout matches Carina's and I nearly cave. "Come on, Granger," he says in his most seductive tone. "You know you enjoy the process."

I refuse to agree; his ego is big enough to fill a Quidditch stadium. "For Godric's sake! You made me change my name, Malfoy, and you still insist—"

"It's just a habit. I can't stop calling you Granger."

I stand on my tiptoes and whisper in his ear. "Maybe you need a reminder. I'm wearing a shirt that says Malfoy. Perhaps I could leave it on later while you make me scream it."

When I pull back, I look him up and down suggestively, eye-fucking him the way he'd accused me of that first day in this flat.

"That would definitely help me to remember, I think," he readily agrees.

Smirking at him, I grab Carina's hand. "I thought it might." After a moment, I add, "And, if you're lucky, I'll forego my potion one of these days. You'll just have to keep bringing me that pleasure every time I ride the dragon ."

I can see the love, lust, and hope burning in his eyes and, even after four years, I still can't believe it's directed at me.

This life with Draco isn't one I'd ever imagined, but that makes it even more wonderful.

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for coming along on this journey with me! It definitely took a lot longer than I originally intended, but I'm happy I didn't try to force it while I was blocked.

Just a couple of things...

My new WIP, The Memory of You, is posting on Saturdays, so if you're into heavy angst and Obliviate fics, check it out. All triggers/issues are tagged, and feel free to reach out to me on Tumblr ( potionchemist) or on Facebook (K Potion Chemist) if you have any questions at all!

Also, I'm nominated for a few things in the Granger Enchanted Survivors Facebook group. Every Part of Me is nominated for Best Smut and Best Relationship Development, and I'm nominated for Favourite New Author. I want to thank anyone who nominated me and/or voted for me in the first round. We're onto round two now and I'm still kicking around! There are great stories and authors nominated in all of the categories, so I'm truly honoured.