Chapter Text
There were three very simple facts about Draco Malfoy.
One, he had more galleons than he knew what to do with.
Two, he was the most desirable bachelor in all of Wizarding Britain, despite his past. Maybe even the most desirable bachelor in all of Wizarding Europe.
Three, he was terribly and irrevocably in love with Hermione Granger.
Who sadly didn’t care about the first two facts because otherwise, she would already be Hermione Malfoy, with a priceless Malfoy family ring on her finger and blissfully ignorant of the existence of any other Wizard. Especially that ginger oaf who had broken her heart like the fumbling imbecile he was.
These days Draco Malfoy didn’t give a flying fuck about the notion of ‘blood-traitors’ or blood purity and didn’t hate the Weasley family for their interest in all things muggle. He even quite liked the Weaselette and her demonspawn and the remaining twin was quite enjoyable if he wasn’t trying to trick him into trying out some hazardous new invention. And Molly Weasley was quite the excellent cook, although he would never tell that the house elves because it would break their dear little heart.
And yet, Draco Malfoy was firmly aware that there was no one he hated more than Ronald Bilius Weasley with his unflattering freckles and the unfortunate hair that reminded him of a carrot and the audacity to break Granger’s heart like it didn’t even matter.
Now, Draco wasn’t privy to all that had happened, because Granger kept things private and Weaselbe couldn’t be trusted, but he had heard enough from Potter- perhaps his most unlikely friend. And then there had been the papers and they had certainly not been sparse with details.
Ronald Bilius Weasley had broken off his engagement to one Hermione Jean Granger three months before the wedding for one and one reason alone: the unlikelihood of her being able to conceive a child.
Something about a cursed blade - most likely the one his aunt had used to nick her throat- along with a series of prolonged casts of the cruciatus -also his aunt- had damaged her magical core and affected her body in a way that was occasionally known to happen.
The chances of her successfully getting pregnant, never mind carrying to term, were somewhere around one or two percent. Enough to give her some hope but not enough to save their relationship.
The Weasel had broken off the engagement, moved back to his parents…
All that, Draco could rationally understand. To some extent at least. The Weasel wanted a brood of children, Granger was unable to conceive, and adoption wasn’t an option for the Weasel, not to mention that it was difficult in the Wizarding World in the first place. And no Wizard would adopt a muggle child, aware of the difficulties that came with it and the lifetime of exclusion and envy.
He could understand it. Theoretically.
What he couldn’t understand was what the Weasel had been thinking when he knocked up some tart less than two months later, whom he had quickly given a ring and married in a rushed ceremony before she could show.
On the day he should have married Granger.
In a ceremony planned by Granger for the two of them.
With his witch in a dress startlingly similar to the one that had been intended for Granger.
Wearing the ring that had been on Granger’s finger mere months earlier.
And show Lavender Weasley, nee Brown, did.
Draco had only seen her a couple of times but every time he did, Lavender did very little other than pet her stomach and tell everyone in her vicinity loudly about her pregnancy and how much she loved it.
Had Draco not hated the Weasel for breaking Granger’s heart like the bumbling baboon he was, he would have hated him for standing by while his wife made sure that Granger witnessed the one thing she might never experience for herself.
From the stricken looks on Granger’s face, the ones she hadn’t been able to hide behind her brave smile, it had hit right where it hurt her the most.
Because Granger fucking adored babies. If the way she constantly cared and gushed about Potter’s miniature copies was anything to go by. Draco would admit that the two little boys were quite adorable with their dark curls and large green eyes, but they wreaked havoc despite being only three and one. And that wasn’t adorable at all.
But, Granger’s love for babies was Draco’s biggest advantage.
Because he had a baby. And a fucking adorable one at that. Far more adorable than Potter’s kids.
Scorpius Lucius Malfoy - not Scorpius Draco Malfoy because that break in tradition was necessary unless he wanted to burden his child with being named after two star constellations- was perhaps the most adorable six months old the world had ever seen.
Creamy porcelain skin, tufts of blonde hair, wide blue eyes that gleamed silver in the right light and the pudgy, adorable face of a cherub. With the tendency to display accidental bouts of magic that primarily caused flowers to spontaneously bloom around him. And an adorable giggle that chimed like little bells.
Fucking adorable.
He had never loved anything more in his life. He had never been more obsessed with anything in his life.
And it just so happened that Scorpius was in need of a mother. Granger was in need of a child. And Draco was in need of a wife.
Especially after his last one had left him the moment the St. Mungos had declared her well enough to be discharged, taking the settlement money and signing away all parental rights to move halfway across the globe.
In her last letter, she mentioned that she was finding her happiness as a wealthy and independent divorcee with whatever witch struck her fancy on a warm beach halfway across the globe.
Their arranged marriage had not been a happy one. They had both been young and Astoria had not been strong enough to defy her father’s orders and Draco hadn’t had the heart to disappoint his mother. They had been wed, shipped off to France for their honeymoon where Astoria had broken down the moment Draco had removed his shirt.
He had learned a few very significant things about his wife that night.
She had absolutely no interest in wizards and was solely attracted to witches. She didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. She wanted to escape Wizarding Britain and the expectations that now rested on her.
Draco had done what every hot-blooded wizard would do in the face of their beautiful and scarcely clad wife on their wedding night: he had redressed, called his lawyers and ordered them to find a loophole. They had found one. As long as Astoria was to give him an heir, their wedding could be dissolved and she would be free to do whatever she liked.
They had come to an agreement. And with the help of a little bit of magic and some potions, Astoria had been with child without either of them having to engage in anything of a sexual nature. Nine months later he had welcomed his son with open arms and transferred enough galleons to Astoria’s account for her to not worry about anything for the rest of her life. She had kissed his cheek goodbye when she had left Britain, briefly glancing at Scorp with a detachment that showed that there were no maternal feelings at all and left.
They stayed in contact, sending each other letters once every few weeks but were under no illusions that they would see each other again anytime soon. Might as well, because Draco Malfoy had been in love with Hermione Granger for longer than he liked to admit.
He had a type. Headstrong, intelligent and terrifying. Granger was all those things.
Since she had graduated from Hogwarts five years ago, she had been a rising star in the ministry and nobody doubted the fact that she would be Minister for Magic before the age of forty. She would bring Wizarding Britain to its knees and they would adore her for it.
Although Draco had sworn to himself not to follow another power-hungry megalomaniac, he could make an exception for her. Maybe because it might be the easiest way for him to find himself on his knees in front of her, eager to serve her however she liked.
But since Granger didn’t seem to have any plans of world domination - at least not yet-, Draco was left with no other choice but to woo her if he wanted to find a way underneath her skirts to bury his face between her thighs. And he would do so with his charm and good looks and the help of his most adorable accessory.
And he had a plan.
After carefully studying his mother’s romance novels, Draco had come to the realisation that holidays were apparently a very romantic and sentimental time for witches. Especially Yule. Which fit well because it was the beginning of December.
It fit even better because it would be Scorp’s first Yule and he deserved a priceless gift for being such a good little boy. And what was more priceless than getting him a mother?
Getting him Granger as a mother.
And since Lavender Weasley was moments away from popping out a ginger to add to Molly Weasley’s ever-growing gaggle of grandchildren, things were especially tense and from what he had heard, Granger surely wouldn’t be all too eager to celebrate Yule with her ex-fiancé’s family and new wife. Which was very convenient, because Draco had gifted his parents a trip to Switzerland and as such had the entire manor for himself and his son and as such nothing that would stop Granger from spending Yule with them.
Well, other than the fact that he hadn’t invited her. Yet.
It was a good thing that they were already friends. Despite the use of last names.
It had started when he became good friends with Potter and the Weaselette. As unlikely as it seemed.
But after running into each other quite frequently at the ministry and other events and a tentative agreement to meet for drinks, which had ended in a terribly sentimental rehashing of the past and a head-splitting hangover, they had formed a tentative friendship over the past year and these days he was a well-received guest at the Potter house and Potter’s spawn adored him.
Much to the dismay of the ginger oaf, who had used every occasion to complain about Draco’s presence in the early months of his acquaintanceship with Potter. Unlike Granger, who had never said anything about him at all and settled on watching him with unreadable eyes instead, offering a few pleasantries here and there while trying to keep her fiancé from challenging him to a duel.
Draco liked to think that she knew that he would have wiped the floor with the ginger twat.
They hadn’t seen each other often, back then. Potter was aware enough of the Weasel’s low opinion of Draco that he kept them separated. When Ron had broken things off with Granger, his sister had sided with the scorned witch, which made his already rare visits even more sparse. And with Lavender being incredibly possessive and unwilling to leave her husband out of sight, these days Potter more often met with Draco than he did with the ginger oaf. As such it was usually just him and the Potters, sometimes with Granger present.
Granger.
She had been distant at first. And avoided him entirely for two months after her ex-fiancé had asked for the ring back. The first time they had seen each other had been a week after Scorp’s birth and the public announcement of his divorce.
He had looked slightly terrible due to trying to keep up with a newborn and she had looked beautiful, but there was no hiding the dark bags underneath her eyes that hinted at sleepless nights.
It had led to a strange sort of… solidarity, at least in Granger’s mind. She had said that she was sorry that he had to deal with the media unable to stop trying to pry into his divorce and he, in return, had said that he was sorry she had been foolish enough to consider marrying Ronald Weasley in the first place.
She had stared at him incredulously for a moment and he had seen Ginevra and Potter gape at him horrified out of the corner of his eyes, but then Granger’s lips had twitched and she had laughed.
It had changed things.
They had gotten closer, to the point where he had first considered them friends and then wondered if maybe, just maybe, he had a chance of something more with her. Sometimes, he found her staring at his mouth or her glance lingering on his arms -not where he was hiding the dark mark- or the hint of chest when he didn’t bother to button his shirt all the way up.
They weren’t close friends, but friends nonetheless. They saw each other every two to three weeks when the Potters hosted a small dinner, where Draco had noticed that they often forgot the presence of Potter and Weaselette, too absorbed in their own conversation. At times, they ran into each other in the ministry, lingering for a moment.
However, much to his dismay, things had stagnated.
But things would change soon. Because Draco had a plan.
Potter was holding a small celebration on the sixth of December, a pre-yule festivity for his friends and close acquaintances. One of them being Draco and, of course, Granger. Only this time, Draco wouldn’t attend alone.
Scorp had only left the manor a few times since Draco had first brought him home. For a multitude of reasons, one being that he didn’t want his child out in public yet or anytime soon, two being the fact that between the house elves and his parents, he was never short of others eager to watch his son when he had business to attend and three… he was a terribly overprotective father.
As such, the Weaselette and Potter had only met Scrop a handful of times when they had flooed to the manor. Granger had been invited along, but always found a reason to cancel last minute. And Draco had begun to become suspicious of her increasingly flimsy excuses.
But with his parents away on a one-month trip to Switzerland - despite his mother’s protest that she couldn’t miss her only grandchild’s first Yule, which his father had skilfully circumvented by whispering something in her ear that had made her blush like a school girl- and the pretence of insisting that his elves had time off despite their protest, he could pretend that he simply had no choice but to take the most adorable six months old with him and Scorp would successfully melt Granger’s heart and make her receptive to his advances by showing him what a fantastic father he was.
Which he was, thank you very much.
It helped that his son was an exceptional baby. As expected from a Malfoy. Not only beautifully adorable but also highly intelligent with an alertness in his eyes that promised great intellect. And those full, rosy cheeks.
Would any Gryffindor and Hufflepuff baulk at his lack of hesitation to use his son in order to woo Granger into marrying him? Yes. But Draco was a Slytherin and besides… Scorp would get a brilliant mother out of it so he had no reason to complain.
And he needed a mother. Draco was under no pretence that he could fill the gap that was left in Scorpius’ life, even with the help of his parents and the luxury of having as much free time as he wanted due to his wealth.
But sometimes, when he had Scorp on his chest, an arm curled protectively around the small, warm body while he read to him, he couldn’t help but think that Scorp needed a mother in his life. Someone a tad warmer than he was. Who would curl up around him and let him play with her hair, shower him with kisses and tickle him until he was squealing in delight while radiating maternal love. Someone a bit softer, who would balance Draco’s inherited sternness.
Like his mother had eased his father’s more stern demeanour and created a balance Draco had thrived in.
Not to mention that Granger wouldn’t be nearly as distraught should Scorp catch another cold. Draco was still disturbed by how much of a fuss he had caused at St. Mungos, convinced there was nothing more urgent than his son’s runny nose. The healer had called him hysteric, but he preferred the term overly concerned.
As such, Draco Malfoy found himself in his floo parlour, holding his pudgy and simply adorable son and looking at the cherub face with a serious expression while he tried to rein in the need to pepper his son’s rosy cheeks with kisses. Later. After they had a conversation.
He had dressed Scorp in robes identical to his own, black with a subtle, silver star constellation, just in case it would help transfer Granger’s affection from his son to him.
“Listen closely, son.” He began, trying to imitate his father’s tone. “Tonight is a very important night. And I need you to be your most adorable, convincing self to swoop Granger off her feet.”
Scorp blinked at him with wide eyes. Draco took it as a sign that he understood every word like the brilliant boy he was and couldn’t help himself. He simply needed to kiss his son’s forehead.
“Why is it of significance, you ask?” He continued, once he had gotten over the adorableness that was his son. “Because if everything goes well, Granger will be your mummy and if I know anything about her, she will be the best mother anyone could ask for. There’s no one who could be better for you.”
Scorp blinked again. Good.
“She will cuddle you and love you and give you kisses”
And hopefully, she will give that to Papa as well. But that thought he kept to himself.
Scorp seemed to be on board with the idea and saw the advantage of wrapping Granger around his finger like the perfect miniature Slytherin he was. At least Draco thought he was. A father’s intuition and all that.
After cuddling his son - again- and kissing the crown of his head, Draco stepped into the floo. It was time to woo his witch.
Nr. 12 Grimmauld Place was cheerfully decorated. Although it was not anywhere near as elegantly festive as Malfoy Manor - there was an abundance of red only Gryffindors would find appealing- Draco felt suitably in the mood for eggnog and fruit cake as he stepped out of the floo.
But he was a responsible parent, which meant that he would stick to the alcohol-free punch that would undoubtedly be served for those who weren’t fond of the idea of waking up with a hangover. Ginevra Potter liked her drinks strong and since she had found out she was expecting again, she had seemingly decided to live through seeing others get drunk and regret it in the morning.
Although she only had a small bump, her dress was tight enough to show it off in the most flattering way.
“Draco!” She greeted, having spotted him in the hallway and approaching him with a smile, that widened significantly the moment she spotted Scorpius in his arms. “And little Scorp!”
“Good evening, Weaselette.” Draco tolerated her hug, patting her back awkwardly while he waited for her to let go. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought him. I don’t have anyone to watch him tonight…” He was a skilled liar and it worked wonders on the witch.
“Oh no, no, it’s perfectly fine. He’s always welcome in our house.” She insisted, taking Scorp from him to coo and pull grimaces until the boy was squealing with laughter. “Oh, aren’t you the most precious little thing? Yes you are, yes you are.”
Draco watched her awe over his son with a satisfied smirk. Good, he hadn’t underestimated Scorp’s effect on witches. Very good. Granger stood no chance.
“And don’t worry, it’s only a small gathering and if he gets overwhelmed, you can always use one of our rooms for a bit of rest. And we still have Albus’ swing in the kitchen, in case he gets tired.” Ginevra assured him, which was comforting. Draco was, according to his parents, a fussy parent. He disagreed as he firmly believed that every loving parent only wanted what was best for their child.
“Who’s here tonight?” He asked, taking Scorp from Weaselette again and feeling a wave of warm affection when his son curled against his chest, seeking out warmth and protection. He buried his nose in those blonde curls, inhaling the soft scent of baby with a small sigh.
“Well, my parents, George, Fleur and Bill, obviously.” The witch began, counting off her fingers. “Hermione, of course, Ron and Lavender,” her face pulled into a slight grimace at the mention of her brother but Draco was merely relieved that Granger hadn’t cancelled at the last minute. “Neville, Minerva, Hagrid and Kingsley, and a few aurors from Harry’s department.”
That was slightly more worrying. He wasn’t exactly fond of the idea of running into his old professor again, not with his past, but… well, Granger was most definitely worth it. And maybe holding a baby would improve his status in McGonagall’s eyes. And it was only beneficial if the stern headmistress was already familiar with Scorp. Perhaps it would get him a few bonus points once he attended Hogwarts. One could hope for the best.
“Brilliant.”
Ginevra seemed to agree because she sent him a smile as she led him into the sizable drawing room of Grimmauld Place, where people were merrily mingling and talking in small groups while sipping eggnog or punch and enjoying delicate hors d’oeuvres. The room was festively decorated, just like the rest of the house, with an abundance of red and gold, tinsel, garlands made of spruce with pinecones and berries and dusted with enchanted snow and a tree that seemed to dominate the room and was covered in ornaments and bows. Small, golden reindeer were jumping above their heads, chiming softly and bursting into sparks when they collided, only to reform again.
The air was filled with chatter and a gramophone played muggle Christmas music that made Draco miss the small, enchanted orchestra in the manor’s ballroom.
Of course, Scorpius immediately spotted the reindeer, cooing softly as he reached for them. Fucking adorable. Draco’s heart hurt.
“Can I offer you something to drink?” Ginevra asked, but he declined. He wouldn’t let a pregnant woman run around to serve him. His father had raised him better than that.
“Alright, refreshments and food is in the kitchen and-“ she was interrupted by a small chime, indicating that someone had come through the floo. “That will be Luna, please excuse me.”
On his own, Draco made his way through the room to greet Potter before he got himself a drink and something to eat because he had skipped dinner. His gaze flickered over the guests as he searched for Granger in the small crowd. The Weasleys were easy to make out with their distinctive hair, there was Bill’s part Veela wife, looking stunning in her ice blue dress, the Minister for Magic in his usual traditional robes, McGonagall looking no different than she had on his first day at Hogwarts, the oaf Hagrid and-
His lips pulled into a frown. Ronald Weasley was next to his wife, looking terribly bored while Lavender chattered with Molly Weasley, continuously caressing her stomach as she undoubtedly went on and on about her pregnancy. But her eyes weren’t focused on the Weasley matriarch but on someone behind her and there-
Draco’s heart stuttered in his chest as he finally, finally spotted her.
Hermione Granger, in all her glory.
If he had thought she had been stunning at the Yule ball, it was nothing compared to her tonight. Her lean frame was hugged by a skin-tight dress in a dark, rich red that sparkled subtly in the warm light and matched the golden jewellery adorning her pale throat and ears. Her curls were untamed as always, escaping the elegant updo she had chosen for the night and framing her delicate face artfully.
She was without a doubt the most beautiful witch he had ever seen. Not that he would say that to his mother.
And she was talking to Potter, seemingly oblivious to Lavender Weasley’s loud bragging. But the stiffness of her shoulders and her tight grip on her empty champagne glass gave away that maybe the comments hit closer to home than she wanted to admit.
“Potter, Granger.” Draco drawled, as soon as he was within earshot and noticed how Granger flinched in surprise before she turned towards him.
“Malfoy.” Potter beamed, blinking up at him with slightly hazy eyes, undoubtedly from the eggnog he had been nursing. They immediately zeroed in on Scorp. “And you brought a guest.” He cheered loudly.
“I hope you don’t mind. My parents are away and the house elves have the weekend off… and I don’t feel comfortable leaving him with anyone else.” He could’ve always left Scorp with Theo and Daphne, who would have fawned over him all night, but there was always a risk that they would refuse to give him back. They had a serious case of baby fever and unless Daphne was finally expecting, he would not leave his son out of his sight when he visited them.
“Of course not. Scorp is always welcome. May I?” His old childhood nemesis asked and Draco didn’t hesitate. Besides, Scorp seemed very interested in grabbing Potter’s glasses to leave smears on them. He truly was his father’s son. “He’s a pudgy little thing, isn’t he?”
“That he is.” His healer had said that he had never seen a more healthy baby on his latest checkup and it had made Draco beam with pride. Seemingly everything that concerned his son did that, even the most average of developments, but he had long since stopped trying to understand it and just accepted that it was part of being a parent.
“Excuse me for a moment. I’m thirsty.” Granger muttered next to him, avoiding his eyes as she slipped past him, without as much as a glance at Scorp.
Draco frowned. Had he miscalculated? Was Scorp not as adorable as he thought? No, surely not. Everybody adored his son, Granger couldn’t be the exception. Perhaps he should have taken a kneazle with him instead, a horrid looking one like her pet at Hogwarts. A ginger one. What if she only liked gingers? That might be an issue.
But she liked Potter’s spawn well enough.
Maybe she had something against blondes?
Hermione supported herself on the kitchen counter and took a few steadying breaths to calm her fluttering heart.
Just when she thought the evening couldn’t get any worse, Draco Malfoy had to show up.
Carrying the most adorable baby she had ever seen.
Realistically, Hermione was aware that he was a single father. His divorce from Astoria Greengrass just shortly after the birth of their child had been all over the papers, but the fact that he had a son had been… abstract as she had never seen him with his child.
Whenever she interacted with him, because Harry’s heart was big enough that he even struck up a friendship with Malfoy, it had been without his son. Much to her relief, because Ginny had once mentioned how adorable Scorpius was and how well-behaved ‘and that face, Hermione! I melted!’.
She had thought it was merely her friend’s pregnancy hormones that had made her susceptible to the charm of Malfoy’s spawn but hadn’t wanted to risk it, just in case Ginny was right. And so she had come up with increasingly flimsy excuses every time she was invited along to the manor.
Rightfully so, because Ginny had been right.
Scorpius Malfoy was the most adorable thing she had ever seen. And that included her own godson. But that angelic face, the soft tuffs of blonde hair and those large, blue eyes. Not to mention the wide, gummy smile as he had blinked up at Harry.
And then there had been Malfoy, of course.
Wearing matching robes with his son and looking sinfully good as always. His sleeves had been tight enough that she had seen his arms bulge while he held Scorpius and the way he had looked at the little boy… the softness on his face…
It had done something to her ovaries that almost felt painful.
It didn’t help that she had started to feel something for Malfoy in recent months. Something she couldn’t admit because… well, she wasn’t quite ready to have her heart broken quite this soon again.
And yet it had been broken anyway. Just a tiny bit.
Because everyone, even Draco bloody Malfoy, had a baby and she… she was desperately holding on to the healer’s comforting smile as he had told her not to give up and that medicine was always making progress and that maybe, in a few years, they would find a cure for her.
And Lavender bloody Weasley had nothing better to do than rub her infertility in her face while her useless ex-fiancé was standing next to his wife without opening his mouth even once to defend her. Because Ronald Bilius Weasley was startlingly cowardly when it came to women.
Or he was simply too ignorant and short-sighted to understand that Lavender’s constant bragging was meant to hurt Hermione and that it worked. Yes, that was most likely the case.
Hermione took another deep breath and then another.
And hastily turned around when she heard the door to the kitchen open. Of course. It had to be Draco Malfoy with his adorable son.
Was she not granted a moment of peace? Not even one?
“Good evening again, Granger.” He said again, his voice soft as he shifted his son in his arms to pour himself a glass of alcohol-free punch. Of course, he would forgo the spiked eggnog.
A responsible single father, Hermione might just melt.
“Hello, Malfoy.” She croaked, trying her best not to look at the baby in his arms. Because if she looked at that pudgy little face…
“Is everything alright? You left rather hurriedly.” Malfoy took a sip from his glass of punch. “And I’m hoping you’re not developing a habit of running away from me.”
“I’m fine. Perfectly fine. Just thirsty” She was. She would make it through this evening and have a nice time and not wallow over her single status like her accomplishments meant nothing. She was a strong independent witch, she didn’t need a wizard to be fulfilled.
That didn’t mean that she wouldn’t like a wizard in her life.
“Good.” Malfoy smiled again. “Because I wanted to introduce you to Scorpius. You haven’t met him yet, have you?”
Oh no. No, no, no.
‘Yes, yes, yes!’ Her heart galloped as Malfoy crossed through the kitchen, coming closer and closer and closer until he was towering over her.
“No, I don’t think I’ve met him yet.” Her voice was a mere croak. And then he was suddenly offering his son to her and she couldn’t resist.
Her heart jumped as she took the little boy into her arms, only to crack a bit when he nuzzled against her chest with a small coo, blinking up at her with wide, trustful eyes. They were the exact same shade as Malfoy’s. Oh, he truly was the most precious thing. And really had the face of an angel!
“Hello, little one.” Her words were embarrassingly shaky and she quickly cleared her throat.
“Scorp, this is Hermione Granger, the smartest witch you’ll ever meet. She has punched rude wizards in the past, so be on your best behaviour.” Malfoy said seriously and when she looked up at him to protest, her voice died in her throat.
Because he was standing so close and smiling softly and his eyes were warm as they met hers and…
“He’s far too adorable for that.” Hermione murmured, glancing at the baby in her arms again before she could do something as ridiculous as blush. Tentatively, she brushed a finger over his silky cheek, smiling when Scorpius giggled.
“That, he is.” Malfoy agreed, his own hand raising to run through the soft tuffs of blonde hair. “Would you mind holding him for a moment, I’m starving.”
“Oh, I don’t know…” She wanted to, of course she did. She only worried that she might not want to give him back. And surely Malfoy wouldn’t take too kindly to her abducting his baby, no matter how close they had gotten in the past few months. And Azkaban wasn’t particularly inviting at this time of the year. Or at all.
“I’m sorry, you probably want to return to the others.” Malfoy sounded understanding and already reached out to take Scorp from her, but she instinctively took a small step back.
“No, it’s fine. He doesn’t seem to mind and I have a bit of time.” Hermione insisted and after a moment of hesitation, Malfoy nodded, pulling out one of the mismatching kitchen chairs to sit down in front of a plate of prosciutto and smoked salmon-covered gougéres. He looked entirely at ease in the Potter house, which was a testament to how closely he and Harry were befriended.
She had witnessed the beginning of the tentative friendship between Harry and Malfoy about a year ago. Harry’s mentions of having been out to get drinks with Malfoy, attending a quidditch game together and having him over for dinner, but with the stress of wedding planning and Ron loudly voicing his disapproval, she had only begun caring when Harry had invited them all to Grimmauld Place for dinner.
To her surprise, Malfoy had changed. Oh, he had still been devastatingly handsome, but he had matured. And certainly realised how much of a prick he had been. He had even apologised, something Ron had complained about for days to an end, while Hermione had left it wisely uncommented.
Then, Ron had ended their relationship and she had been slightly too occupied with nursing a broken heart and trying to reduce the damage of their breaking up and the cancelled wedding. It had left her slightly too busy to care about Malfoy, especially when she had found out that Ron and Lavender were engaged only two months after they had ended their relationship.
The pain of seeing pictures of Lavender Brown, now Weasley, walk down the aisle in the venue Hermione had picked for their wedding, wearing a dress eerily similar to the one she had pickled along with a ring that had been on her finger mere months before…
It had made even the cruciatus seem like a loving caress.
She had been aware of the wedding- invited even to serve as bridesmaid which added insult to injury and had mostly likely been Lavender’s idea-, but she hadn’t known that the papers had been granted access to take pictures of the entire affair. It had surprised Harry as well, who had looked very subdued in his role as best man - something he had asked Hermione about beforehand, which had made her hug him until his ribs had creaked.
Because of the strained relationship between her and Ron and Harry’s unease with Ron’s decisions, their formerly tight-knit trio had… separated a bit. She knew that Harry still met up with Ron, but Lavender was rather… unwilling to leave her husband out of her sight so those evenings out were rare.
And they weren’t really at a point where she was eager to be in a room with Ron without enough buffers to keep them from having to interact.
After the wedding, it had as such mostly been her with Ginny and Harry and more often than not, surprisingly Malfoy. Who had always been pleasant to be around and quite polite whenever she spoke to him.
And she would be lying if she didn’t find herself strangely fascinated by him. He was intriguing, with his quiet intelligence and his warm laugh and the startling ease with which he manoeuvred every conversation.
Then she had begun to notice him at the ministry, chatting to officials and shaking hands as if the mark on his arm didn’t exist. He had picked up his father’s mantle, so to speak, and taken on the honorary seat at the Wizengamot and the Hogwarts Board of Governors. Old families, like the Blacks and Malfoys had reserved seats that were passed on from one generation to another and allowed them to steer things in a way that was most beneficial for them.
Hermione hadn’t understood why the archaic law had not yet been changed, but it would be a task she would tackle once she was eventually Minister for Magic.
And gradually, things had changed. They had begun to talk, without Ginny or Harry acting as a buffer. And then he had begun to approach her in the ministry, making easygoing conversation as they waited for the lift.
At some point, Hermione had realised that he seemed to have the singular ability to make her laugh even if she was in the worst of moods.
And he apparently trusted her with his son.
Tentatively, Hermione sat down across from him, adjusting her grip on Scorpius so his head was properly supported.
Malfoy didn’t seem worried about her suddenly dropping his son or holding him improperly, because he reached for a napkin and took one of the gougéres. A year ago, Hermione wouldn’t have believed that there was a world in which Draco Malfoy ate without demanding golden cutlery, but that had been before her first Taco Tuesday at the Potter house.
Despite his lack of cutlery, he had still looked obnoxiously elegant while eating with his hands. Hermione had realised that day, that she found proper table manners oddly erotic.
“How are things at the ministry? When can I start sponsoring your campaign to run for Minister for Magic?” He asked lightly, licking a flake of the buttery pastry off his finger and momentarily distracting her. What was wrong with her tonight?
“Oh, well, maybe in a few years.” Hermione tried to get her brain back on track. “I was recently promoted to a senior position at the DMLE.”
Recently meant a week ago. And although she hadn’t done much yet, because her predecessor had been almost as organised as she was and weeks ahead of the schedule, Hermione loved the new responsibilities.
“I heard. And it seems as if congratulations are in order then.” Malfoy raised his punch glass slightly. “Do you like it?”
“Yes, even if I miss the Creature Division. But the hours are much more regular and I have more free time, so that is good.” Not that she knew what to do in her free time. Maybe she should ask Malfoy, he had plenty of it on his hands after all.
Although, from the way he looked at Scorpius, she could guess what he dedicated most of his time to. Or rather whom.
“But you accomplished plenty during your time there.” Malfoy pointed out.
“Not enough. My legislation regarding house elves fell through in the end.” It still stung, having been one of her most passionate projects.
“I wouldn’t call it that. Even if you didn’t free them, you made their lives significantly better. Although I had to convince Mipsy that I would be fine with Scorp and that she should enjoy her weekend. She’s been caring for the Malfoy heirs for generations. Before Scorp I was her favourite but now she barely looks at me anymore. She’s still upset that I insisted that she take time off over Yule.” His soft laugh made a shiver run down her spine.
Something that had become a regular occurrence over the past two months, after she had realised that Ron Weasley was a bloody idiot and she had better things to do than wallow the end of their relationship. Roughly at the same time, she had felt comfortable going on another date. It hadn’t led to anything but a night of good sex, but it had done wonders for her self-esteem.
It was around the same time she had first noticed how nice his laugh was. And how it made her heart skip in her chest.
Oh, there had been plenty of ugly sneers and cruel scoffs when they were younger, but nothing that had ever made his face as handsome as it was now.
“You don’t keep your house elves around over the holidays?” That was unexpected. Although her watered-down legislation had managed to achieve days off and a proper wage for elves, she hadn’t expected Malfoy to go that far.
“No, we don’t. Besides, it’s only Scorp and me this year and I think we can manage. He has yet to complain about my version of soft-boiled carrots.” He smiled again. “But we’ve only started trying out solid foods a week ago, so who knows when he will grow tired of them.”
“Soft-boiled carrots for Yule? For both of you?” Hermione wondered and Malfoy shrugged.
“Well, it is a special occasion so maybe I should add some boiled parsnip… In case you don’t know, I’m not exactly good at cooking anything that involves spices.” The downside of being taken care of by servants, Hermione supposed.
“And his mother? Will she be fine with boiled carrots?” The moment the question slipped out, Hermione bit her tongue for being so insensitive. What has she been thinking? Why had she asked?
“Astoria is currently very, very happy on a warm beach in the arms of an undoubtedly beautiful witch.” Malfoy didn’t seem bothered by her question, chuckling softly to himself.
“Oh.” Hermione murmured and then realisation struck: “Oh, Astoria is…”
“Solely interested in the fairer sex? Yes, she is. I can’t blame her, I only have eyes for witches as well.” He shrugged easily. “I’m happy for her and she’s happy for me and I sincerely doubt that I will see her again.”
Although she knew that their marriage had been arranged and their divorce mutually agreed upon, it still baffled Hermione. “But what about Scorp?”
She couldn’t imagine abandoning her own child. The thought alone hurt. But maybe it was different for Astoria, who had signed away her rights the moment Scorp had been born. At least that was what Ginny had told her.
“Astoria isn’t maternal at all. The pregnancy was a technicality for her. In the end, we got what we wanted. She has her freedom and the chance to be herself, I have mine and Scorp.” His eyes flickered to his son again, who had taken to tugging on the neckline of her dress.
Hermione let him, trusting the sticking charm that prevented any accidental slips.
“Oh. So it really is only the two of you.” Why did she feel a little bit relieved that Astoria had no interest in Malfoy or their son? It was ridiculous and even made her feel a bit guilty.
Scorp deserved to have a mother in his life. Although, from what she had witnessed this evening, Malfoy seemed to more than make up for the missing parent.
“Yes. But we’ll have a lovely evening and a heap of presents to unwrap the next day.” Malfoy took another gougére. “What about you? Any plans?”
Hermione fought to keep the shadow off her face. This was her first Christmas without any plans.
Of course, she had been invited to join the Weasleys, but she couldn’t stomach the thought of spending the entire evening being subjected to Lavender’s snide remarks, no matter how much Arthur or Molly tried to interfere. Harry and Ginny had offered to stay at Grimmauld Place and celebrate with her instead, but she had insisted they join the Weasleys and mentioned that she was thinking about travelling to Australia to visit her parents.
A bald-faced lie. She most likely would take enough work home to keep her busy, cook herself a nice meal and spend the evening either working or watching telly in her entirely unfestive flat while trying to ignore the fact that exactly a year ago Ron had proposed and made her feel like the happiest witch in the world.
Now she couldn’t look at her ex-fiancé without thinking how weak and cowardly he was, which had done wonders to repair her heart.
The term ‘dodged a bullet’ had come to mind a lot in recent months.
She had understood his reason for ending their relationship and although it had stung, she had accepted it. She hadn’t understood how he could move on so easily and for a while, she had wondered if he and Lavender had already had an affair behind her back and her infertility had been a convenient reason to end it, but quickly discarded that thought.
Ron wouldn’t do that. Even if their friendship was currently strained and would be for a long while and even with her pettiness, Hermione knew that Ron would never do anything of that sort to her or any other witch. Weak as he may be, he wasn’t a cheater.
“I don’t know yet.” Hermione swallowed the knot that seemed to clog her throat. “But no soft-boiled carrots for me. I have a few dishes up my sleeve.”
“I should have known. Gryffindor that you are, you will probably use something as dangerous as spices.” Malfoy teased and Hermione couldn’t stifle a laugh.
“I might just pull out crushed red pepper.” She joked and Malfoy shook his head in faux astonishment.
“Crushed red peppers. I should cover Scorp’s ears before your bad influence can rub off on him.”
“I don’t think he minds.” Quite the opposite, Scorpius looked awfully comfortable and happy in her arms. If the smile on his face was anything to go by.
“No, he doesn’t mind at all.” Malfoy’s voice was soft and when she glanced up, he was looking at her with an expression she couldn’t pinpoint. It made her heart flutter a bit and Hermione blamed Ginny’s spiked eggnog.
She was distracted by Scorpius nuzzling against her chest and smacking his pouty lips before those wide, blue eyes fluttered close as his breathing evened out.
And Hermione quickly realised that she was in very, very deep trouble.