Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe and all its lovely characters are not mine.

Chapter 7: Right Around the Rosebushes

The warm summer breeze that swept through the garden was a welcome change from the artificially cool air inside the ballroom. Draco dashed around a row of tall rosebushes, and his feet caught on a pair of legs reclined on the grass, sending him toppling head-first to the ground.

"I'm so sorry!" he heard a feminine voice say. "Are you all right?"

He scrambled up to his feet while her small hands helped brush off blades of grass that clung to the front of his dress robe.

"I'm fine, you don't have to— "he halted as he caught sight of her face. Even in the dim light that glowed from the large ballroom windows, she looked lovely. Her dark hair was pulled up, exposing her dainty neck, and her even darker eyes were fringed with long, thick lashes.

"Astoria," he finally said. "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Astoria snickered. "I'm fine, Draco. I'm not the one who fell on my face."

Draco felt his cheeks burn, and he quickly tried to get off the subject. "Why aren't you inside? This ball is in your honor, and you're neglecting your guests."

She pursed her lips. "It's not just for me. It's for my sister and her husband, too, and they're doing a fine job of rubbing elbows without my help. I don't think this is even for my benefit, anyway; my parents know I don't get along with anyone in their social circle."

"I'm sure your parents are just excited to have you and your sister living in the country again," he said courteously. "Are you not happy that you moved back?"

"I am," she said. "No matter where I live, this place will always be home."

"This place? Not the posh flat high above the streets of Paris? You didn't like the shopping, the food, the attendants waiting on you hand and foot?" he teased.

"I did," she said. She reached out and took hold of a white rosebud jutting out. "But none of it compares to this garden that I planted and tended, or the manor halls that I grew up in, or the house elves who basically raised me as a child. I missed it all."

"I feel the same way about Malfoy Manor. No matter what happened inside that place – "he faltered.

Astoria smiled genially at him and steered the conversation away from the loaded topic. "Why are you out here instead of mingling with the rest of the highborn?"

Draco scoffed. "I'm an Auror. Which makes me a social pariah in these circles. Not that I mind. I only come to these things to escort my mother."

"Well, I'm glad you came tonight. These roses are beautiful, but they're not particularly talkative," she said, with a playful grin.

"I'm not sure I'll have much more to say," he said uncertainly.

"Stay out here with me, anyway," she said. "Even if you don't talk, you're just as pretty to look at."

~xx~XX~xx~

They sat edgily at the dinner table. Astoria had invited him home to dine with her sister and brother-in-law; Draco had forgotten how unpleasant the former could be.

"It's negligent," Daphne said haughtily. "You shouldn't be out playing Auror. You're an only child, which means you have the sole responsibility to take care of your family's businesses and estate. Those shouldn't be left in the hands of people outside of the family."

"It's only unorthodox," her husband argued. "But it doesn't mean he shouldn't be able to do whatever he wants. Just because his family is part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight doesn't mean that he has to be stuck in an office managing an estate like a damned eighteenth-century lord."

"Thank you, Theo," Astoria said graciously and turned her attention to her sister. "Being an Auror is an honor, Daph. Not too many wizards have the skills for it, and even less have the aptitude to gain the high rank that Draco received in only a few short years."

"All I am saying," sneered Daphne, "is that Draco is the only one left of the Malfoys who can take care of his holdings. Narcissa is too old to be expected to run his companies. He doesn't have another sibling to handle family duties; he doesn't have your kind of luxury."

"That's enough," Draco said sharply. He set his utensils down and leaned in to glare menacingly at Daphne. "I understand that you may be feeling bitter toward those of us who chose to strike our own paths rather than stay the course of the good Pureblood scion, but do not speak to Astoria that way."

He felt Astoria's small hand cover the fist he had pressed on the table. He glanced at her; she silently asked him to calm down.

Draco heard Daphne scoff and watched as she stood up from the table.

"You're both ridiculous," she spat, and looked to Theo to join her. When he didn't, she swept out of the dining room alone.

"I apologize for my wife's atrocious behavior," Theo said to Draco. "She is—"

Draco held up a hand. "No, Theo. It's not you who should be apologizing."

He turned to Astoria, who gazed at him with worry. He managed to put a smile on his face to ease her anxiety.

~xx~XX~xx~

"Pregnant?" he asked hollowly.

Astoria held her hands tightly on her lap as she sat on the bed across from him. "I know it's probably not something you want to hear. Not after six months of dating, anyway."

Draco gaped at her silently.

"Listen, I'm going to have this baby," she said decisively. "If you don't want anything to do with it, or us, that's your decision. I certainly don't need you to stay out of obligation."

She moved to get up from the bed, but he shot out his hand to stop her.

"Astoria, wait," he said, when he finally regained use of his voice. "I'm just – I'm a bit shocked, but—"

Draco tackled her down on the bed and hovered over her. She gazed up at him with an astonished look on her face.

"We're really having a baby?" he asked slowly, excitement coloring his tone.

"Yes," she whispered softly, her voice swelling with hope, and he leaned his head down to kiss her.

His lips traveled down to her neck, and she said, breathlessly, "I really thought you would be more upset about this."

He stopped his affectionate ministrations, and said, "Why would I be? I mean, it's a bit sooner than I planned, but we've talked about kids before. You know that I want a big family."

Draco suddenly got out of bed and threw open the doors of his armoire. He started rummaging at the bottom of a pile of boxes, muttering, "I know I put grandmother's ring in here, somewhere."

"Wait, what?" Astoria screeched in surprise as she leapt to her feet. "Why in Merlin's name are you looking for your grandmother's ring?!"

"Oh, of course," Draco said to himself, and he made his way over to her, and took her in his arms. "Astoria. Will you marry me?"

She looked at him as if he suddenly grew gills. "Draco. Malfoy. I'm not marrying you just because I'm pregnant with your baby."

She tried to pull away, but he remained steadfast. "Then don't marry me because you're pregnant. Marry me because you love me. And because I love you."

She hesitated, and he used the moment to kiss her tenderly. "Please," he murmured against her lips. "Please marry me."

"You're just asking me this because of the baby," she reasoned.

"I've already thought about asking you," he confessed. "This is a bit sooner than I planned, but, that doesn't change the fact that I want this happen."

She gazed earnestly at him under her dark lashes. "You really want to marry me?" she asked timidly.

"Today," he said, emphatically.

"All right, slow down," she said, laughing. "I'll marry you. Not today. Soon."

"Soon," he repeated with glee, and he captured her smile in another ardent kiss.

~xx~XX~xx~

"What about Perseus?" she asked.

"We already know a Percy," he reminded her. "And, he's my least favorite Weasley."

"Oh? Who's your most favorite Weasley?"

"Molly," he said. "Obviously. Any Weasley who can bake a chocolate cake like she can is all right in my book."

They sat amongst the rosebushes in her garden overlooking the Greengrass Estate. They had been debating baby names for the past hour, with each suggestion becoming more unlikely.

"Maybe we should name the baby after someone we know. Someone lovely and admirable," she suggested, as she unconsciously rubbed the bump that was beginning to show on her abdomen.

"Hmm. I'm not sure I have any candidates."

"Really? You don't know of anyone who is commendable, and kind-hearted, and someone who our child can model him or herself after?"

Draco snorted. "We are not naming our child after Harry fucking Potter."

"So, you finally admit that you love and admire Harry?" Astoria said as she poked him in the rib. "'Henry' would work. Maybe 'Harriet' for a girl?"

"Just because we see each other every day at work, and on most weekends playing Quidditch, doesn't mean that I want to name my firstborn after him. I just thought of him because you spewed out jargon that's usually associated with The Great Git," he said. "'Commendable' and 'kind-hearted,' but also someone in our circle? That's a tall order. I take it we're not naming any daughter after Daphne."

"No. As much as I love my sister, I do not want any daughter of mine to emulate her," Astoria said, and her face took on a thoughtful expression. "What about 'Hermione?'"

"Granger?" he laughed. "I wouldn't wish her name on anyone. Besides, 'Hermione Malfoy' is a terrible combination."

"Her name is not bad. It's romantic. Shakespearean. Much better than any of these constellation names," she said, and after a pause, "I'm sorry she couldn't come to the wedding. I would have liked to finally meet her."

Draco shrugged. "She's busy with work."

"What about the name 'Pansy?'" she asked hopefully.

He sighed. "Dear Merlin. I hope we have a son."

~xx~XX~xx~

Draco paced in his study, running his hands through his disheveled hair. He could no longer hear the screams – he was too far away, and the Manor was too large – but terror still gripped his chest.

His hands kept demanding to reach for the door handle; his legs kept insisting that they run up the stairs to the suite; but his ears kept reminding him that she pleaded, between bouts of pain, "Please, go. Stay in your study. I'll be fine. We'll be fine."

The room was suddenly lit with green light, and he hurried over to kneel in front of the fireplace.

"Draco, I just got your Owl," Hermione said. "What kind of emergency is going on? I'm on assignment, and I'm not supposed to use the international Floo—"

"Granger," he croaked. He meant to say more, but the words stuck in the back of his throat.

Hermione peered at him closely. A determined look came over her face, and she said, resolutely, "Move over. I'm coming through."

He stood and stepped back to give her room. A few seconds later, she was standing in front of him. He hadn't realized that he was trembling until she firmly gripped his arms above his elbows.

"Draco?" she asked tentatively.

He swallowed twice before he could say, "It's Astoria. She's upstairs with healers."

"The baby's coming? Already? But Astoria's only," she paused, as if to calculate the date that Draco had mentioned in his last letter, "seven months along."

"I don't know what happened," he said roughly. "We were getting ready for bed, and, suddenly, she's doubled over on the floor, in pain. Bleeding."

She gasped quietly. "Why the hell isn't she at St. Mungo's?"

Draco shook his head. "The healers said that it was too dangerous to transport her in her condition. They've got a whole team upstairs working on her."

As he recounted the events of the night, he felt the energy drain out of him. He sat down in an armchair and hunched over, placing his head in his hands. Hermione kneeled in front of him to maintain eye contact.

"I want to be up there with her, but she kicked me out. The healers kept complaining that I was getting in the way," he said bitterly.

Hermione rubbed the tops of his knees in comfort. "I'm sure they're doing the best they can to take care of her."

He growled. "She was fine, Granger. We didn't even do anything strenuous today. We just stayed at Greengrass Estate because she wanted to work in her garden. I don't know how this could have fucking happened!"

She got up and made her way to the cabinet, taking out a glass and pouring in scotch. She handed him the drink, which he blindly accepted, and he caught her hand, to say, "Stay with me? Please. I know you probably can't, but I just – Please don't leave me alone right now. I can't be in this room by myself."

Hermione gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Of course."

She poured a drink for herself and sat down on the armchair across from him. They sat together, silently sipping their drinks, the comforting sounds of the crackling fire permeating the room.

Hermione glanced at the grandfather clock over his shoulder, which indicated that it was eleven-forty at night.

"It's Harry's birthday today," she gently mused.

Realization dawned on Draco, and he thumped his glass down on the side table. "Fuck," he grumbled.

In his stress-bent mind, the thought of his firstborn son sharing the same birthday as his former rival seemed fatefully absurd. He started chuckling uncontrollably until tears streamed down his face.

Hermione made her way to him and placed a light hand on his shoulder.

When the laughter and tears subsided, he asked, "Do you think they're going to be all right?"

"I don't know," she said softly. "But I hope so."

Draco put his hand on top of hers in response; even now, he appreciated her candidness.

A loud crack made them look up. Sarby faced them imploringly, and Draco jumped up from his seat.

"Young master is now in the nursery," the house elf said.

"Astoria?" Draco asked quickly.

"The healers are still with her, Master. But Mistress asked that Master go see to the baby now," said Sarby.

Draco felt his body tense; even his diaphragm stopped working, his lungs starting to burn with disuse. Hermione moved in front of him and took hold of his face.

"Draco, breathe," she ordered.

He inhaled deeply, finding assurance in her eyes.

"Do you need me to go with you?" she asked kindly.

He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. He shook his head.

After a few more cleansing breaths, she said, "All right? Are you ready to meet your son?"

Draco looked into her face, and he siphoned composure and encouragement from her presence. Finally, he nodded and stepped out of her hold.

"Take me to the nursery, Sarby," he said as he grabbed the house elf's extended hand.

As Draco was whisked away, he heard the rush of the Floo fire briefly roar to life.

~xx~XX~xx~

He looked up at the sound of footsteps on the marble floor. Two women approached his spot near the end of the long corridor.

"Thank you for coming," he said when they neared. "Both of you."

"I didn't come here for you," Pansy said, but without the usual venom in her voice. She placed a bouquet of white roses on the flower sconce next to the words: "Astoria Malfoy. 30 Sept. 1981 – 1 Aug. 2005. Beloved Daughter, Wife, and Mother."

Draco felt a light hand on his shoulder and turned to give Hermione a grateful smile.

"How are you?" she asked him.

"As fine as I can be on a day like this," he said carefully.

"Where's Scorpius?"

"With Theo," he said. "Would you like to see him? You can come with me when I pick him up later."

Draco saw a hesitant look in her eyes, before she replied, "Best not. I have to be back in the office soon. I just wanted to come and pay my respects. And make sure you're all right."

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Pansy held her hand up to trace Astoria's name. "Luna says 'hi,'" she whispered. Then, she seemed to remember the others with her, and she cleared her throat. "Are you going to stay with her all day, Draco?"

"No," he replied. "I told Theo I would get Scorpius this morning."

"You're not going in to work?" Hermione asked.

He shook his head. "I typically take the first of August off. I usually bring Scorpius here to Greengrass Estate. We have a picnic in the garden."

Pansy gave him one of her rare genuine smiles. "I'm sure she would have loved that."

"Yes," he said as he stared at the white roses next to the name carved on the stone. "She would have."

A/N: Thank you for reading! Reviews are much appreciated!

If you're in the mood for more angst, please check out my one-shot Dramione fic, "The Gutter of Your Love."