Dramione celebrate Easter
Hermione was sat at home in the dining room, trying to feeding her toddler Scorpius. He was refusing as he was cutting a tooth and it hurt.
“Come on Scorpi. We need to get round to Nana and Grandad for Easter Sunday” Hermione sighed at her bubbly toddler.
Draco comes in from the garden. Dressed in his Sunday best, sleeves rolled up and looking exhausted. He had their family dog Teddy the cavapoo in his arms.
“Why do muggles put eggs everywhere? I didn’t expect my Sunday to be wrestling it out of Teddy’s mouth. He’s not going to remember this Mione” Draco exasperated as he put the dog down and shut the patio door. Teddy scurried off to his bed.
“I know but it’s tradition. My parents did it for me and my cousins. It’s to show the Easter bunny came” She said to her husband. She gestured bunny ears with her fingers which made Scorpius laugh.
“Bunnies? Rabbits do not lay eggs my sweet wife” Draco laughed and was met with laughing back.
“It’s a pagan tradition. You should know! The bunny symbolises fertility and spring is rebirth. Your mother didn’t teach you much” Hermione chuckled.
“I know that Mione! But why the eggs? And chocolate too?” Draco asked as he sat next to his family.
“Well I think we have the Germans to thank for that and Queen Victoria” She sighed.
“And that has something to do with your God, how? You told me he died which is Good Friday, he was buried. Holy Saturday, he was laid to rest and today we celebrate him rising. Sounds like magic to me” Draco explained.
“I’m surprised you remembered that. No idea. But it’s been around for years. I told my mum we had a good reason for missing mass and she would learn later” Hermione exclaimed. Draco smiled as he rested his hand on her stomach.
“Blaise did used to say that we humped like rabbits” Draco laughed as he kissed her cheek. She batted him on the shoulder. All the laughing had turned Scorpius’ attention away from the food and Hermione was able to feed him quickly.
“Right, little man. Daddy is taking you to get dressed and I’ll finish the pudding for Grandma” Hermione cooed as she picked Scorpius’ from his high chair and gave him to his waiting father. He giggled and was babbling dada. Hermione was topping off her cake with small chocolate eggs.
“That cake does look nice. Not as delectable as you” Draco said as he eyed Hermione in her floral dress and pinched her bottom.
“Behave! There’s two children in the room” Hermione feigned a gasp as she covered Scorpius’ ears and kissed her husband. The happy family of three soon to be four.
A/N Long time no see tumblr. Sorry been extremely busy with uni and life. I’m 25 now! I didn’t do one of these at Christmas so here’s an Easter one! How I thought Draco would react to an Easter egg hunt in his garden. Happy Easter,
Rosie
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While You Were Sleeping
Epilogue
“We’re never going to sleep again. Ever,” Hermione said from her end of the circuit around the kitchen, before Draco could head into the conservatory detour that Neville had suggested might at least help with their mental health, if it did nothing to aid in the ultimate goal of the twins sleeping for more than an hour at a time. She’d had to raise her voice a little, so Draco could hear her over the babies’ crying, but she couldn’t get too loud or strident, because then the crying would become howling on Rose’s part and a glass-shattering shriek on Scorpius’s. Any significant pausing in walking yielded the same response.
“If you agreed, we could get a House—” Draco began. Again. His grey joggers were low around his hips, his feet bare, a ratty tee-shirt that couldn’t be made any rattier by regurgitated milk thrown on hastily when she’d called him from the nursery.
“Don’t start the ‘House-elves make perfectly fine nannies, see how I turned out argument.’ You know how I feel about it, even if we paid an exorbitant amount, and though I love you dearly, I wouldn’t say the nannying you received did you any favors at Hogwarts. You were a preening little prat for the first few years, when there was some pretense we were children and not pawns,” Hermione replied. “I also don’t want to hear about Black family magicks that would do the trick, either from you or your mother.”
“We’re not following Molly Weasley’s advice and using gin,” Draco said, patting Scorpius on the back in a rhythm that seemed to soothe their son. Or it didn’t and they were deluding themselves. Sleep deprivation could do that to a person, Hermione recalled, from a time when she had done research in a library, wearing a clean jersey and drinking a cup of tea hot from the pot, not stewed and cold and generally disgusting but charmed not to grow Wizarding penicillin on the surface.
“She might have meant we should drink the gin, not that we’d dose the babies, now that I think about it. It’s all fuzzy when I look back,” Hermione said.
“I hate gin,” Draco said. “Simply loathe the stuff.”
“I know. I remember that about you. From a time when we had drinks on a trolley in the sitting room or went to the pub,” Hermione said. He liked wine, preferably red and full-bodied, though he’d get a pint of Guinness if they went out with friends. He’d rather drink Butterbeer than a G&T and forget about a martini, dirty or otherwise. Her craving for cocktail onions had been rather a sore point during her pregnancy, though he’d fetched them and learned not to turn up his nose at her when she ate a jar’s worth in a sitting.
“What’s a pub?” Draco said wryly.
Scorpius squawked. If his Patronus wasn’t some avian species, Hermione would eat her hat. She’d have to fit her traditional pointed witch’s hat first, but then she’d eat it. Maybe she’d chase it with a Gibson.
“Shh, darling boy, it’s all right, Papa’s got you,” Draco murmured, brushing his lips against Scorpius’ wispy blond curls.
Despite the screaming and the exhaustion and the near-constant desire to hex her earlier overly confident and entirely wrong self, the one who’d said things like, twins won’t be so terribly difficult and maybe it’s more efficient to have them together, the babies can keep each other company and they won’t be lonely when they went off to Hogwarts, really, it was a blessing to have twins first, Hermione couldn’t help melting a little whenever she heard Draco talking to their babies, especially when he referred to himself as Papa. She opened her mouth to say something fond and tender, but Scorpius yelped and gurgled and Draco sighed.
“Another geyser. Perhaps we should get those disposable cloths Potter was on about, since we can’t risk Vanishing the spit-up,” he said. Spells around magical infants could be dicey and with a mother as powerful as Hermione, they’d had to play it extra safe.
“He’ll be hungry now,” Hermione said, not even bothering to answer the remark about the burp cloths. Once, her mind had been filled with complex runic equations and the Zaragosta variations on the Berenicean charm progression. Now, she was too tired to even spend one neuron’s worth of attention on the question of burp cloths.
“Time to trade,” Draco said.
Hermione walked over to the rocking chair, settling Rose on her lap for a moment. The novelty of the perspective change would buy about 90 seconds of relative quiet. Draco came over, put Scorpius into the crook of Hermione’s arm and scooped up Rose. His exceptional Quidditch skills were being put to this exclusive use but Hermione suspected both the babies would be avid players, Rose the more likely Seeker. She fiddled a bit with her top and got Scorpius latched on, stroking his plump cheek very lightly so he wouldn’t get distracted and fall off, screaming with frustration. Nursing, he looked very serious, like Draco drafting a response to the Chinese delegation.
“Now, then, ma chére Mademoiselle Rose, let’s take a turn about the room and let Mummy take care of Scorpius,” Draco said. Rose made a series of noises which weren’t quite cries and could possibly be a language no adult was fluent in.
“Molly said it won’t always be this way,” Hermione offered. Scorpius was growing dozy against her breast, still nursing but with less vigor. He’d fall asleep this way but they’d probably only get an hour of rest from him and Rose’s hazel eyes were alert, peering over Draco’s shoulder.
“She would know. Circe’s garters, seven of them. It doesn’t bear contemplating,” Draco said. “My mother says we ought to be grateful, two healthy babies, no sign either will be a Squib, and I am. I am grateful and I love them—”
“You’d just like to get a full night’s sleep,” Hermione said. The first week, the babies had been drowsy and they’d had to wake them to nurse. It had been the right thing to do and Hermione still couldn’t believe they’d done it. Rose had gone nearly five hours when she was four days old and Hermione had faffed about writing thank-you cards for the new baby gifts and peering into the cradle to make sure Rose was breathing when she could have followed directions and slept when the baby slept, letting Draco be the one on duty to make sure the twins were awakened to feed.
“I’d take four hours,” Draco said.
“Three would do me,” Hermione yawned. Draco kept walking, Rose on his shoulder, and Hermione drifted for a bit, lost somewhere between dream and memory.
“You thought it would all go away when we came home. That it wasn’t real,” she said.
“Well, I was a fool and also besotted with you and hadn’t had a good night’s sleep for about ten days,” he said. “Also, we were faking being married. I was your fake-husband.”
“This is real,” she said. She shifted Scorpius to her shoulder, patting his back until he burped, praying he’d stay asleep through it. Draco smiled, too wise to risk laughter.
“It’s as real as it gets, love,” he said. Rose grizzled a bit but lowered her head, her silky dark curls shining against his fair skin, the faint silver stubble of his five-o’clock-now-three-am-shadow. He was tall and fit and terribly kind, terribly clever; he’d do anything for the three of them and he’d gotten her all those jars of pickled pearl onions and had snogged her silly when she had Gibson-breath. He had turned out well after all…
“I might have been overly rigid about the House-Elf proposal,” she said. “A few nights can’t do any harm and we’ll make sure they have exceptional benefits, a pension. The villa in Majorca—”
*
And that was how Pithy came to be the Granger-Black-Malfoy night nanny, the first House-elf with her own Gringotts vault, and the reason Hugo was born.
Well, a reason. There was a responsible adult creature in the household and there was that villa in Majorca.
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“come home with me”
“So, what do you say Malfoy? Come home with me.” Hermione was doing her best to hold herself up. She wasn’t about to pass up her chance to get Malfoy somewhere private.
“And why should I go home with you?” He raised a brow.
She held up a finger, “well for one, you’re a prat. Y-you’re still a shu-stupidly handsome prrrrat.”
She held up a second finger, “second, you look rav-ravishing…th-those rrrobes.”
As she held up a third finger, she leaned towards him, almost toppling over if Draco hadn’t caught her. In a loud whisper she said, “w-wore this ddress ju-just for you.”
He looked her up and down, contemplating on what to say.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” She perked up, a large dopey smile forming on her face.
“Yes I’ll go home with you Granger-Malfoy.” Draco bit back a laugh as he escorted his heavily intoxicated wife to floo home.
- originally posted on twitter
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