Hello! Thanks for the encouraging reviews! How bouts we gets to the story now? Oh and I don't own Harry Potter or anything. That would be awesome if I did, though. Right?

Chapter 3: A Sweet Smile

After the door closed Hermione started crying. Not a gross snot cry, but a round of silent tears, that carry more pain in a single tear than any crocodile could ever dream of. Her cheeks were slick and she gave off a few small sobs, but otherwise she was quiet, slumping down in her chair. This squeezed Harry's heart, as well as Draco's, but Harry couldn't stand to see her like this and he knew exactly what would make her spirits brighter. "So where is your child? I would very much like to meet this child," Harry said sincerely. This caused Hermione to look up, and almost get rid of the tears. She silently turned to Draco and nodded with a small smile. He nodded back and headed toward the fireplace, about to enter the Floo Network. He threw down ash and disappeared into the green flames. Hermione looked after him for a moment, but then started crying again, she just remembered what had happened previously. Harry took her in his arms, giving her a tight hug, not liking his friend to cry this much about a git like Ron, though this isn't the first time he had comforted her when Ron was being stupid.

They stayed like this, her crying on his shoulder, for a few minutes. Finally, her tears started to dissipate as she realized there was nothing to cry over. Ron was always like this, they weren't compatible in the slightest, and her fantasy of him taking the news well was just that. A fantasy. She sniffed and came off of Harry's shoulder, wiping her cheeks. "Thank you, Harry," she muttered.

"Don't worry about Ron. He's just mad that you decided to remain virtuous when you were with him, but ended up cashing it in with Malfoy on the first date." Hermione was glaring at him, hurt. Harry realized what he had said, and put his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry. I just-I just know how he thinks." She backed off a little bit, but then there was a commotion of flames in the fire place as Draco stepped out, holding a peculiar bundle of cloth in his arms. Hermione flitted over to him, her arms open. When she was just a few inches away from him, she gave him a truly sweet smile, and took the bundle from him softly. Her eyes lit up, gleaming like orbs of freshly melted chocolate. Draco's heart swelled, like it always does, when he saw her smiles. He let his face soften and smiled back briefly, before hiding that part of himself in fear of being seen by the precious Boy Who Lived. Hermione walked over to Harry, slowly. He knew what was happening, Hermione holds her child. When she approached him she opened a small flap of blanket to reveal an infant, snoozing soundly inside it's mother's arms.

Harry glanced at Hermione, who he found gazing down at the child with all the love in her being. He understood this, but didn't at the same time. A mother's nature is to love her child fully and unconditionally with all her heart. He definitely saw this in her. But then again, she was gazing at the spawn of her childhood tormentor, the man, or boy back then, who made her question her existence many times. She told him of those thoughts in sixth year, right after Ron had started sneaking about with Lavender Brown. Those were dark times though, and Harry didn't want to bring that kind of energy to the infant he was about to meet. He couldn't help wonder though, how horrid it must have been to bare a child of a nemesis. He still didn't understand. Maybe that was the appeal though? That such a beautiful thing as life came out of hate, and bitterness.

Harry noticed Draco glance toward the child with a paternal glow. Perhaps he hasn't fully grasped the whole story. Either way, the child was a gift, and shall be treated as such, even if it came along in certain delusional circumstances.

"Her name is Rose," Hermione said. He's never seen an infant up close like this before, so he was hesitant to do much more than admire her from a distance. As if hearing her name, the baby opened her eyes, cooing at her mother. Hermione bent down to kiss the child's forehead softly. Rose cooed again at the contact and all three of the adults silently awed as they watched the baby. She started squirming and Hermione asked, "Draco, can you lay out her blanket? She wants to play."

Draco nodded once and opened a bulbous, pink bag that contained empty bottles of milk, a few toys, and the large, thick blanket he was looking for. He snatched it out and laid it gently over the carpet floor for his daughter. Hermione thanked him with a sweet smile, the smile he longed for all the time now, and laid down Rose, still wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets.

Draco watched Rose as Hermione and Harry spoke and swapped stories. Harry went over the basics of how everyone was fairing after all the destruction of the war, but that didn't hold Draco's attention. Instead, his mind wondered to the last year or so of his life. When everything changed. He didn't mean to get her pregnant. After that night he went on a proper date with her a month later. On that date she told him about the baby. At first he felt guilty, for bringing this upon her, for he knew she had plans for a big future. Any of those plans would become complicated to achieve with a child to take care of alone. He pictured himself becoming a father, but the idea upset him because he thought he would be horrible at it, not unlike his own father.

He abandoned Hermione out of fear; he didn't think he could handle the role, but his conscience caught up with him soon after. He thought of Hermione, and knew she would never abandon an unborn child, she was so bold and strong, unlike him, who cowardly ran away from his problems. She would be a wonderful mother; the best. This made him feel even more guilty, enough to eat away his sanity a bit, so he decided to find her and take care of her. His parents didn't know, he just said he was taking a vacation when he found out she was in Australia.

"Draco!" he whipped his head up and out of his reverie about the past. Hermione had called his name for the fifth time already, and her face was a bit flustered at him ignoring it.

"Hmm?" he replied softly, still coming back to reality.

"Harry is leaving." she indicated. She pointed sideways with her eyes toward Harry a few times, telling him to say goodbye.

"Oh...er...good night, Potter," he said a bit awkwardly because he never thought he would never have to wish The Boy Who Lived a good night.

"Yeah, thanks." Harry said, also a bit awkwardly. Hermione embraced him one last time and then he was off, probably to find the Weasel. Hermione turned toward Draco, silent for a moment, then smiled in relief. She giggled nervously and came to rest her face on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her torso, glad she was happy.

"That went better than expected. Thanks for being here." she said into his shirt.

"You're welcome." he said softly. Rose was still on the blanket in the parlor right around the corner and she started to whimper a little. Hermione jumped and moved around Draco to grab her.

"It's about time for bed, little miss." She turned and started to walk down the hall to her bedroom, leaving Draco to himself in the parlor. He knew it would take no more than 20 minutes to have Rose snoozing in her bed, so he waited on the sofa. Hermione probably wanted to talk after she got the infant to sleep; she didn't bid him goodnight. It was a seemingly long night so he lowered himself horizontally in a comfortable resting position, not bothering to kick his shoes off when he elevated them on the furniture's arm and closed his eyes. He didn't think he would fall asleep but in no time he was drifting off into a lazy river of memories.

There was lights roaming from above, all colors of the rainbow. The air seemed quiet, but the sight said otherwise. Draco found himself in a cafe sort of area, looking upon a crowded dance floor. The people dancing didn't look right to him, they were just faceless bodies swaying to a rhythm he couldn't hear. This didn't hold his attention, even though it was fairly creepy. Draco turned and walked over the a bar where a man, this time with a face, was preparing a drink. "Who's that for, then?" Draco asked the bartender.

"Lass in the corner, mate," he said, finishing the preparation. Draco looked over to said corner and spotted a young witch, looking down at a newspaper. She had messy curls that just went passed her shoulder, hiding her face. He didn't need to see her face though because he could recognize that messy hair anywhere. It was none other than Gryffindor's golden girl, Hermione Granger.

"I'll deliver this to her," Draco took the glass from the bartender and left a pile of galleons in its place. Slowly he stepped across the area, only straying from his straight path to dodge tables and chairs. After what seemed like walking 1000 miles he reached her table side, gently placing down the glass. She looked up from her newspaper toward the cup.

"Thank you," she said, grabbing it and taking a sip. Mid-sip she looked up and saw Draco hovering over her. She choked and sputtered her drink, spraying a bit on his shirt and her newspaper. She coughed and regained her composure. "What are you doing here?"

Hermione had put Rose to sleep and came out to meet Draco, only to find him in a deep sleep on her sofa. He looked so peaceful laying there that she couldn't possibly bother him at this moment. She placed herself on the ground and leaned her backside on the sofa, crossing her legs, her left shoulder just in front of his chest. Tonight had been a little stressful at first; Hermione couldn't wait to wind down and Draco probably won't wake up anytime soon so she decided she would go to bed. Just as she braced herself with her arms, leaned her hips forward and lifted her bum off the floor, a small groan came from Draco and he rolled off the sofa, crushing her legs to the floor in a splayed out mess of limbs. When he fell he fell, he sort of pushed her torso forward making her body slam while he landed on her legs, cheek laying on the back of her thigh. Hermione scoffed, "Count on a Slytherin to trap you on a floor," she murmured.

"Whaa…?" Draco mumbled into her leg, still half asleep and groggy. Hermione picked up her head and turned to the guy on her legs who had lifted his head also, looking at Hermione through half lidded eyes. She tugged her legs trying to get them out from under him and then suddenly he flopped his head back down on her leg and reached up, placing a slender hand on her round rear, kneading it.

"Draco! What the hell are you doing?" With that, he immediately stopped and sat up, alert, eyes wild and eyebrows contorted in realization.

"Holy fuck I thought that was a dream." He said, clearing his throat still gruff from his nap. Hermione giggled and they both stood.

"Do you dream about me often, then?" Hermione teased.

"You would want to know, wouldn't you?" Draco said. Completely unfazed by the fact that she just called out one of his biggest secrets.

"Come on," she said, grabbing his hands. "You can stay here tonight," and pulled him towards her bedroom. He grinned and followed her without question.