Future Parents Program | By : avari20 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 58113 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters. Damnit.
A/N--And the let chaos begin.
Chapter Six: Meeting
Hermione understood that it took a bit of intelligence to appreciate irony. And Hermione had that particular quality in spades.
It didn’t escape her notice that the one time she had the opportunity to realize her daydreams of Malfoy meeting an unfortunate end, her Gryffindor instincts had come to the fore and she’d saved him. She couldn’t ignore the fact that the boy who seemed to be made of ice could not survive in water.
Her greatest enemy had been chosen to become what amounted to her closest partner.
She had wanted to avoid children at all costs, only to give “birth” to one the first day of school. That same child had just thrown up on her “father” in much the same way he had thrown up on Hermione.
Figures.
Hermione watched as Draco danced a jig while trying to find somewhere to put the baby down and then clean himself up. While she appeared perfectly composed on the outside, even a little amused, on the inside she was a quivering mass of….well, something that she really didn’t want to delve into. She was fighting for breath, struggling against memories that threatened her sanity. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t touch that baby. She couldn’t hold it or she’d lose her mind for sure. Hermione had been on automatic pilot the past hour, taking comfort in the familiar contention between herself and Draco. It had almost seemed like old times again for that brief moment. She had mistakenly thought that she could revert to her pre-war self without any problem….right up until the moment they had uttered the spell together and the plastic figure had become all too real.
Hermione wasn’t sure what she had tricked herself into imagining what this would be like, but it hadn’t been a living, breathing being that laughed and cried and felt just as much as Hermione herself did, if on a more limited range. What if she freaked out while she held it? What if she hurt it?
Hermione was very close to hyperventilating.
Apparently so was Ron.
Draco had finally placed the baby on the vacated couch and cast a cleaning charm on his clothes when the fireplace burst into action. Out tumbled Weasley, who barely paused to get his bearings or glance at the wand wielding Malfoy before he leapt up and dove over Hermione’s head. He was running for the stairs that lead to bedroom gangway when the fireplace set up a commotion once more. A very furious Pansy Parkinson rushed out in a much more dignified manner than her counterpart had. “Ronald Weasley, if you don’t get back here I will hex you into the next millennium!” She was panting with enough fire in her eyes to set the castle aflame. “You will take responsibility for your actions, you misbegotten spawn from redheaded hell!”
Ron never even looked back.
Pansy was after him like a shot, but not before shoving not one but two wailing infants into Hermione’s unwilling arms. “Here, take them!” she snarled. She was up the stairs seconds later, threatening Weasel through the closed door of what used to be Hermione’s bedroom. Hermione and Malfoy stared at the newly arrived packages, who calmly screamed as if their continued existence depended on it. Hermione looked from them to Malfoy to the babies again. Twins. Ronald had screwed up the spell at the last second, and turned the baby into twins.
And Pansy was upstairs ready to make him pay.
Malfoy glanced back at their own creation who played with its feet blissfully and thanked the gods that he hadn’t made the same mistake. His wardrobe was limited as it was. He whipped around when he felt the fireplace stir for a third time, instinctively stepping in front of the child and pointing his wand.
This time it was Potter who came out, sitting on the floor and grinning like a mad hatter. His glasses were askew and his clothes a bit sooty, but he didn’t seem to mind a bit. “Hello, Hermione!” he said in a jolly tone. “Have you had my niece or nephew yet?”
Hermione looked dazed. “I suppose I did. Don’t know if it’s a girl or boy, though.” Potter stood up and sat next to Hermione, totally ignoring the fact that Malfoy was in the room. He wrapped his arms around Hermione and the babies and stared at them all with a pride that would make one think he’d given birth personally. The old fashioned way, to boot. “Aren’t they beautiful?” he asked in a tender voice that Draco had no trouble hearing even over the banshee offspring of the too fertile Weasel.
Malfoy had heard that having a child scrambled a person’s brains. Now he had the proof, and it was giving him a headache! He abruptly cast a silencing spell.
Ah, blessed stillness! The twins weren’t crying, Pansy was no longer screaming but sending him a glare that told him death was eminent, and Potter and Granger had broken up their sickly little love bubble thing to stare at him. “Alright!” Draco barked, sheathing his wand. “Weasel, you have until the count of yesterday to come out of Granger’s room. Pansy, get down here and take your spawn and sit on the couch like a civilized Slytherin. Potter-” he leveled a malevolent glare at the other boy. “--get your sooty self off of my furniture.”
And your paws off Granger, his inner voice added silently. Utter that drivel out loud and you’re dead, Draco told his inner voice.
I’m not even going to comment on the stupidity behind that remark.
Nobody seemed to want to follow his directions. In a flash Malfoy drew his wand again. “Accio Weasley, Accio Pansy, Moveo Potter!” He snatched the baby up from the couch under his arm like a sack of flour the same moment his swished his wand to flick it at the fixture. In moments Potter landed with a thump, followed by Pansy, who fell atop Potter. The two scrambled out of the way as Weasel came sailing out of Granger’s room and over the gangway. His landing sent the couch flying backward, it’s three occupants tumbling back with it.
Draco smirked as he stood over the fallen like a conquering tyrant, the baby under his arm laughing and clapping in delight. He bent close to Potter’s face. “Potter, meet Ick.”
**
“So,” Draco drawled after sweeping the couch back into an upright position. “We’re going to play a game, kiddos. Fairly simple. I ask, you answer. One--how the bloody hell did you find out where Granger and I were staying and two, how the bloody hell did you manage to floo here? There’s no floo network in Hogwarts.”
True to form, Granger raised her hand to answer. Sighing, Draco restored her voice. “There is an inter-network between the Head suites in the castle. Dumbledore put each couple in a vacant suite. Harry must have been in Ronald’s when all of--”she gestured to encompass everything “-happened.”
Draco stared at her. The baby gurgled happily and Draco shifted it until it sat on one arm at his front and braced it with the other. It clapped its hands. Draco made a mental note to find out Ick’s gender as soon as possible. He couldn’t very well refer to the baby as “it” all the time. “How do you know there’s more than one suite?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Malfoy. Who are you talking to? There are four suites in all, alternated each year to promote privacy and secrecy.”
That’s how she got back to the dorms before him. She’d likely known where they were the entire time. Draco quelled the annoyance that she’d topped him again. He shot a nasty look at Pansy and Weasley, who were still fighting silently but adding rude gestures to the ‘conversation’. “Cut it out, Pansy!” he bellowed. The baby jumped. “Give them their progeny, Granger. You’ve got one of your own.”
Hermione snorted at the sheer absurdity of the situation, but gladly did as told. She couldn’t wait to get rid of the two bundles. She stood, awkwardly balancing the two, who had finally given up the crying spree and looked at Ick with interest in their little Weasley blue eyes. Well, Pansy had blue eyes too, but the disgusting twinkle was definitely in evidence. Draco cuddled Ick closer in protection against such blatant advances. Boy or girl, there was no way a Malfoy was getting anywhere near that.
Even if they were temporary.
Pansy shied away from the baby at first, but once she realized Ronald took the other with no strain at all she resolved to be better than he and practically snatched the infant out of Hermione’s grasp. Draco figured that those daunting, the prospect of twins hadn’t been what sent the one of many Redheaded Rejects to running. Must have been Pansy herself. She could be rather….intimidating. He noted that Ronald was eyeing her with something akin to morbid wonder even as he pressed his six foot three frame into the couch’s arm as much as possible. Never figured Weasel to have any sort of intelligence. Then again, even the dumbest animal knew how to survive, Draco supposed.
He couldn’t stop his smirk. “Stuttered at the last moment of the spell, eh, Weasley? Even in experiments you Weasels can’t seem to help your rabbit-like multiplication.” Ick laughed. This kid and he obviously shared the same sense of humor. He might even be able to forgive their initial introduction if this kept up. He jiggled her experimentally. Wasn’t that what mothers did?
We are in serious trouble here, mate, his inner voice replied.
Weasel shot him a dirty look and a one-fingered salute (a/n--although I hear that in England it would be more like two fingers, commonly known as the forks). Hermione watched in dazed amusement as Draco gasped and clasped a hand over his child’s eyes quickly. He was about to lay into Ron by the looks of it when Hermione decided to step in. “Listen, this is getting a bit out of hand. Malfoy, take your silencing charm off and I’m sure that these three will be quiet.” She shot her men meaningful looks that implied that if they at least didn’t, they would wish they had after she was through with them. Pansy seemed to have deflated somewhat and didn’t look as though she would protest. She was too busy staring at the child in her lap with terror.
Draco grunted but complied. Potter was the first to speak. “Is the baby’s name really Ick, Hermione?”
“Yes,” Draco said, in direct contradiction with Hermione’s “no.” They stared at each other with surprise. “What’s wrong with Ick?” Draco demanded.
“What kind of a name is Ick? We might as well name it Bob while we’re at it!” Hermione said with a snort of derision. She was shocked to see a light of interest appear in Draco’s eyes. He turned the baby to look into its face. “Bob, huh?”
The baby looked at him blankly. “Eh?” it cried, as though to say, Are you serious?
Draco pursed his lips and shook his head. “Sorry, no good. Ick stays.”
It was Pansy who came to Hermione’s defense. “You can’t name a baby Ick. What will people think?” she scoffed. Hermione had been going more for the how will the baby live it down approach, but figured this new argument would sit better with Malfoy.
Which showed how much she knew. Draco lifted an elegant blonde brow at Pansy. “Unlike your little experiments-gone-wrong, Pans, my Ick doesn’t give a damn what other people think. Malfoys are born perfect, and therefore do not need anyone’s approval. Isn’t that right Ick?” he asked the baby. The tiny tot lunged forward and wrapped pudgy little arms around Draco’s neck to bury its face into the skin. A feeling like Malfoy had never known before suddenly burst in his chest. Warmth suffused his body as he stared in amazement at the little being who put so much trust in him. Unable to stop himself, he put a massive hand on the little back and turned his face. He breathed in and was immediately aware of the scent of Spring, with its warm sunshine and green, green grass.
Malfoy looked like he’d been hit in the head with a bludger, Hermione thought, watching him closely. He was rubbing the little back absently, appearing for all the world like a doting father. He seemed completely unaware of anyone in the room. They however watched him with intensity, unsure of how to handle the naked emotions that had suddenly flitted across Malfoy’s face.
The clock struck the hour.
And Malfoy’s clothes disappeared.
“MOTHER!!!!”
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