Summer came early that year and brought with it a scorching heat that made it difficult to do anything constructive during the day. There was a hum of bees and butterflies in the garden and the sound of the gently rippling lake in the distance, while a gnome dug for worms in the flowerbed.
Draco and Hermione were spending the day at home relaxing, as Hermione’s parents were taking the children to the cinema. Once Hermione explained, very patiently, to Draco what a cinema actually was he found the idea so remarkable that he felt quite sad that he wasn’t going with them. But he would much rather spend the day pampering his pregnant wife than watching some Muggle film. Juliet, who was very mature for a five year old, promised to tell her Daddy everything that happened in the film, while Taddeus, her four year old brother, said he would bring his Daddy back lots of Muggle sweets.
Draco and Hermione were sitting at the kitchen table. Hermione was demolishing her forth slice of toast and marmalade – she was, after all, eating for two – while Draco read over some paperwork for the Ministry and absent-mindedly stroked Crookshanks on his lap. Just then a tiny owl came zooming through the open window, hooting wildly, and landed with a crash on the table, nearly knocking over Draco’s coffee.
“I hate this bloody bird!” said Draco, moving his paperwork out of the way.
Crookshanks leapt from his lap onto the floor, hissing at the owl. He didn’t like it that much either.
“Pigwidgeon isn’t that bad,” Hermione insisted. “He’s just… enthusiastic.”
“What you call enthusiastic, I call irritating.” he said.
Pigwidgeon – who was still very small and hadn’t gotten any less hyperactive with age – stopped fidgeting long enough for Hermione to take the letter off his leg. He nipped her fingers with his beak playfully before flying on top of the fridge and hooting happily. Crookshanks stared at him, looking murderous. Hermione unrolled the piece of parchment and began to read:
Me and Melissa just got back from our honeymoon. Spain was great, although I did get a bit sun burnt. Melissa literally hasn’t stopped laughing.
Thanks again for the wedding present. The Felix Felicis Draco brewed for us is great, although neither of us have actually taken any yet. Melissa says I should have taken some in Barcelona, then I wouldn’t have been unlucky enough to get burnt to a crisp.
Ginny told me that the Healers at St. Mungo’s said you and Draco are expecting a baby girl. Congratulations! If your last two kids were anything to go by, I’m sure Draco is going to spoil the new baby rotten. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already bought her a goblin-made silver rattle or something equally as over-the-top.
Hope to see you all soon. Mum and Dad send their love.
P.S. sorry if Pig’s being a pain. It’s been a while since his last delivery.
“So what does it say?” asked Draco.
“Ron and Melissa just got back from their honeymoon.” she replied, smiling.
Draco smirked. “I still can’t believe he married Mr. Austen’s daughter.”
“Well, she did say she had always had a thing for red heads when she first met him at our wedding.” she laughed.
“I always though she would be a bit, y’know… miles out of his league.” he said.
“Nothing wrong with an unexpected pairing, love.” she said, taking hold of his hand.
Draco smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. Hermione took a sip of her very, very sweet tea – she’s regret her sugar cravings once the baby was born – and looked at Draco thoughtfully.
“I just realized something,” she said.
“What?” he asked.
“Well, Melissa is your step-sister –“
“Yes, I’m aware of that.” he interrupted.
“So,” she said, grinning. “Ron is your step-brother-in-law, meaning you two are now practically related.”
Draco shuddered. “Good grief. You better not point that out to him. I doubt he’ll be too happy about it.”
A few hours later the sun was beginning to set and a cool refreshing breeze was sweeping in through the open windows. Draco lay on the sofa, his back to the armrest, while Hermione rested on his chest. He kissed the top of her head, burying his nose in her bushy jasmine scented hair, while he rested his hand on top of her bump.
“The kids will be home soon,” Hermione said, drowsily.
“Well,” said Draco. “We better make the most of the peace and quiet until then, sweetheart.”
He tightened his hold around her as her eyelids became heavier.
It was nice spending time together like this, not needing talk. Usually they had to spend their time working, looking after the children and doing the housework. Draco had suggested when Juliet was born that they get a house elf to help do the chores. Hermione hated the idea of having an unpaid slave in the house that referred to her as their mistress. Draco pointed out – and regretted saying it out load seconds later – that house elves enjoy working because that’s just what they’re for. That remark resulted in a week long argument, which Hermione won. Draco knew that she was always right. Even when she was wrong, she was always right.
Hermione’s breathing was becoming slower and more regular, so Draco knew she was falling asleep. The sound of his steady heartbeat always made her feel soothed and relaxed. Nothing made them happier then falling asleep in each others arms, just the two of them (three, if you counted the bump). His Hermione and her Draco. At that moment, all was well.