Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)

(Very, Very Late) Birthday Present

Prompt: Draco/Hermione

Days of the Year - November 22nd 2018 - Thanksgiving: Write a gift fic for someone that you're thankful to have in your life.

Dedication: Dark Angel of Sorrows

Word Count: (Per Google Docs) 670

Draco awoke and jerked upright – cold sweat breaking across his brow. He knew it was a matter of time before the nightmares plagued his sleep again. The war had long since ended, and enduring its aftershocks and sleepless nights seemed easy in comparison. This time, they were different, they were about his new family.

Careful to not wake her, Draco reached out and brushed her mane-like hair off her face before resting a hand on her shoulder. She was as real as she could be, but he always needed reassurance the nightmares hadn't taken her.

'She is here. She is real. I am hers, as she is mine. Nothing or no one can take that away.'

Draco shifted closer to the witch and gently draped an arm over her sleeping frame. His hand splayed over her pregnant belly, and the touch excited his unborn child to kick against it.

A hand rested over his then.

"Hey," Hermione muttered groggily. "You okay?"

"I am now," Draco whispered back, nuzzling her neck and hair. "Sorry I woke you."

"It's your nightmares again, isn't it?"

"Only a dream. I'm alright."

"Mmhmm." She pressed her back against him, offering as much contact as he needed to assure him that she was really there despite what he claimed. "I'm cold."

Draco chuckled slightly and resisted the urge to jerk his legs away when she curled her feet against them for warmth.

He gently squeezed her frame, she quietly squeaked at the gesture. "I have you."

He lightly traced patterns over her stomach, feeling the baby slow in movement as it dozed. Hermione let out one of those sighs that warmed his very core, feeling her relax and drift back to sleep in his warm embrace. Draco knew that he would never let go, no matter what.

Not even the nightmares could take his family away.

Draco's eyes fluttered open at the stream of morning sun slipping through the poorly drawn curtains. He turned away from the large windows to face the cold, empty side of the bed beside him. He was in the manor instead of the cottage, and she was not there.

She never was.

The dreams started to feel so real now. They were becoming so detailed and perfect – too perfect to be real. He never had the same dream twice, but instead it played out like a continuous second life he could only live when he was asleep. If he focused hard enough on them, he could almost convince himself that they were actual memories.

But they never truly could be anything else but a dream.

Today would be a good day, at least. Draco had a meeting with the Minister herself in regards to Quidditch pitches that needed improvements and repairs in several divisions, but naturally Draco would opt to have them all upgraded, which would stir up a discussion about budgets. He found the banter upfliting, the casual exchange was almost like she was a friend.

It will be nice to not be interrupted by her git of a husband or obnoxious best friend Potter for a change, at the very least.

Draco would never admit to being obsessed with the witch, but how could he not be? Hermione fought her way to the very top of the tower, she was the most reliable and consistent Minister that has been in office, and has done so much for their world that their children are growing up in. There was much to admire about the lioness he could only ever watch from afar.

He waited in her office, taking in the subtle aroma that permanently coated the room Hermione dwelled in. It was the same from his dreams, but he pushed the thoughts away when she settled in the chair across from him and huffed.

"Let's get to it, shall we Malfoy?"

"Yes, let's."

'She is here. She is real. I will never be hers, as she will never be mine. Nothing or no one can change this reality.'