Set down your glass
I painted this
Draco awoke early, which wasn’t uncommon for him. They hadn’t set the alarm last night, and so he only glanced to the clok to find the time: eight forty. Hermione slept soundly next to him on her back, and he turned on his side to face her, smiling at the way the morning sunlight barely reached her face but completely shone around her stomach. His smile widened at this, and he flattened a hand against her cotton-clothed belly. His
son was in there. They hadn’t been told yet, but he was sure of it. He just knew that there was a little baby boy waiting to grow.
He continued to watch his sleeping wife, mesmerized, until he finally noticed that she’d opened her eyes and was staring back at him. He smiled when she laughed, a small, tinkling giggle, and he just had to kiss her. She tried to say something, but he quickly silenced her, and she laughed harder, pushing him away playfully.
“I love you,” she finally got out, and he just smiled before kissing her again.
“I love you, too,” he whispered against her lips, “And you,” he added, kissing her belly.
“Stop,” Hermione whined, “That tickles. Draco!”
He just continued kissing around her belly, even lifting up her t-shirt (that was actually his
) and relishing in the soft feel of her skin. She tried to swat him away until he shot her a brilliant smile, and she stopped, and he pushed himself up onto his elbows, flipping onto his stomach.
“We have to think of a name,” he murmured.
It was something that had been in the back of his mind for a while, especially because he so badly wanted to carry on the tradition that had gone throughout the entire Black family. He liked his name, and he’d always preferred the other-worldly feel that he felt it carried. Thankfully, Hermione read his mind, as she usually did.
“Do you want to carry on your family’s tradition?”
“Do you?” he asked quietly, trying to mask his smile.
“I know you want to,” she teased, pushing him, “I don’t know. Is it just stars?”
“Stars, constellations, you name it.”
“Do you have any particulars in mind?”
“What about you?” he mumbled, burying his face in her hair, “I don’t want to make all the decisions.”
“How about,” she paused, and he knew she was smiling, “you pick the boy names and I’ll pick the girl names? We’ll make a top three. Ready, set, go.”
“Just like that?” he laughed, shaking his head when she nodded.
And so they bounced names off of each other for the next two hours until hunger finally drove them out of their bed and into the kitchen where Hermione lazily made them eggs, hash browns and peppers, and pancakes with bananas cooked into them. Draco sliced strawberries into a bowl while they continued to think and voice their opinions. Finally, though, Hermione turned.
“Anastasia, Aurora, and Dahlia, all with the middle name Jean.”
“Your middle name?”
“And my mother’s name.”
“True enough. Okay, give me a few minutes, I’m assigning my middle names.”
Hermione laughed, but turned back to her cooking as he continued to think. He only spoke again when they were sitting next to each other on the island, eating.
“Caelum Leto, Orion Crius, and Scorpius Hyperion.”
“Where in the world do you come up with these names?”
They stared at each other for a moment or two before falling into fits of laughter. They finished their breakfast on the same topic, and their day carried out in the same manner. They made their way into the backyard before long, stretched out on white lawn chairs and sipping lemonade. They occasionally talked, though they mostly just enjoyed one another’s presence, wrapped up in love.
Draco exited the shower that morning at eight o’clock, feeling refreshed and happy. He was glad to be on his feet again and going to work, though he’d certainly enjoyed his week with Hermione. She had decidedly taken the week off to be with him, and he would miss being away from her.
He pulled on a pair of boxers and dried his hair before going across the hall into their bedroom where Hermione was sitting on the floor, her back to him, in nothing but a bra and panties. Draco arched an eyebrow and went to kneel before her to find her pouting with her arms crossed. He smiled and kissed her forehead, softening her pout.
“What’s wrong?” he murmured, pushing a curl away from her face.
“I have to wear shorts if I’m wearing a dress, and I can’t get them on.”
“How can I help?”
Hermione sighed before holding out her hands. Draco stood and, together, they got Hermione back on her feet. She balanced her hands on his shoulders as he slipped her elastic-waist white shorts on. She thanked him with a kiss before going to pull on her dress. She headed out after that, and Draco just laughed before going to dress. They ate breakfast together, parted ways for work, and they were happy.
Draco was in the east wing of the second floor at the desk in the library, bent over a piece of parchment. He was organizing a few things for work the following Monday, and he was nearly finished when Hermione’s voice echoed through the manor.
It took him a moment to pull himself out of his work, and, when he did, he frowned; he couldn’t be sure if he’d heard right.
He jumped out of his chair and took off out of the library and toward the foyer stairs. He barely touched the steps as he ran down them, and he pushed himself faster, swinging around the bottom of the stairs into the kitchen as Hermione shrieked for him again. She’d gone outside to read as she liked watching the stars, and the deck was magically heated in the colder seasons.
He almost tripped in the kitchen before erupting onto the deck where Hermione was trying to struggle out of her lawn chair. Draco took one look at her before helping her out of the chair and leading her back into the house.
“I’ll be right back,” he promised as she let go of him in the living room.
“Go,” she ordered when he hesitated, “I don’t want to sit.”
He nodded once before sprinting back upstairs. Hermione had a half-packed bag that she kept beside their bed, and he flew around their room, tossing things in as he went. He was about to leave and shut the light when something caught his eye: Atonement
. He’d just started reading it the week previous, and so it was sitting on his nightstand. He smiled, grabbed the book, and left.
It was four o’clock in the morning. They’d arrived at St. Mungo’s around ten thirty, and it was finally calm. Hermione lay in white sheets, sweat glistening on her face.
“You’re so beautiful,” Draco whispered, kissing her forehead and pushing away her damp hair.
She smiled weakly up at him until the door opened, and they both looked over as Emily walked inn, a small blue bundle in her arms. She delicately transferred their baby son into Hermione’s arms, and, as Hermione and Draco stared down at him, Emily smiled.
“What’s his name?” she asked softly.
“Scorpius Hyperion,” Hermione spoke confidently, surprising Draco.
They hadn’t truly settled on one name in particular, though he’d been hinting at this name for a while. Emily left them, and Hermione only managed to stay awake another half hour before she wearily handed her son to her husband, drifting off with a smile. Draco sat in one of the large, comfortable chairs by the window, cool grey eyes fixated on his tiny son.
Soft, downy blonde hair covered his head, much to his amazement. He’d expected Hermione’s brunette mess, but he supposed there was always time for it to darken. He shifted his gaze for a moment to look up at the twinkling night sky, trying to find Scorpius’ constellation, and, when he looked back down, bright blue eyes were staring up at him. He took Draco’s breath away, and he couldn’t resist skimming his thumb across his little cheek. He smiled, and he watched as Scorpius’ wide eyes followed his movements. In the blink of an eye, he copied the expression, and then it was gone. Draco could barely believe it. He was a father
Hermione thanked Emily, embracing her tightly, before she lifted Scorpius in his baby carrier. Draco was at work, though she had a million different stops to make today. She arrived first at Ginny’s house where Anna was visiting with Rose.
“Oh my God!” they both exclaimed as Hermione stepped out of the fireplace.
They cooed over Scorpius for the next hour, marveling at how quiet and wide-eyed he remained throughout their visit.
“He hasn’t cried once. It’s so strange, but Emily said that Draco was the same way as a baby.”
makes sense,” Anna laughed, “He’s still like that.”
“I’m almost tempted to ask Narcissa if he continued to grow that way. He’s such an angel, though it’s nerve-wracking sometimes.”
“I can only imagine,” Ginny sighed, “I wish
James would’ve been like that. It’s like naming him after Harry’s father made him act like him. Consequently enough, Albus is heavenly. Go figure.”
The three women talked for a while until Scorpius fixed his gaze on Hermione, and she smiled before announcing her departure. In the past three days, anytime he’d been hungry, wanted to be held, or anything of the such, he simply stared at her until she understood. And, for whatever reason, she always did.
She stopped home to drop off her bag and feed him before Flooing over to her parents’ house. Much to her surprise, Aeos had allowed her to connect her parents’ fireplace to the Network, though it could only be accessed from the manor. She’d written them saying she was coming, though her arrival still caused her father to jump off the couch in surprise.
“Hermione dear,” he frowned, “You nearly…”
His eyes went wide as he took in the small carrier in her hand, and she nodded.
“Jean, come in here!” he called, ushering her over to the couch, “Oh, he’s beautiful, dear.”
“What is it? Is everything okay? Oh, Hermione! Oh!” she nearly squeaked, “Is this Scorpius?”
“Do you want to hold him?”
“I would love to. Oh my goodness, look how adorable he is. And what an angel,” she cooed, taking him in her arms and going to sit in the armchair, “Hermione.”
“Yes, mum?” she laughed.
“Where’s Draco? Work? The poor boy. I’m sure they won’t let him off anymore after those weeks he spent in the hospital. How is he?”
“He’s great, really. I’m sorry I didn’t come by earlier. They only just let me out this morning, and I stopped by Ginny’s to say hello quickly. I haven’t been by there in ages.”
“That’s quite alright, love. He’s blonde. I thought for sure he’d have your hair.”
“Emily said that the Malfoys are just prone to have blonde hair. She said she’s never seen anything like it. Even Narcissa, who was a Black and married in, is blonde.”
Hermione sat with her parents all the way into lunch, when they took her and Scorpius into the kitchen and whipped up something. Hermione excused herself to her old room to feed her son when he once again turned his eyes on her. She smiled, lifting him in her arms.
“Do you mind if I use my old room?” she asked, holding him close to her.
One of his little hands rested on her breast, and her smile widened as she looked down at him. Her mother took this in, and immediately nodded, shooing her off.
“This is where I used to live,” she whispered, going over to her bed and pushing herself back enough so that she was leaning against the headboard, “Daddy never came in here, except the one time he came to pick me up for our vacation. We went to Italy. He proposed under the Bridge of Sighs,” she paused to settle Scorpius next to her before unbuttoning her shirt, “It was the most magical thing. Someday, you’ll have a room of your own like this. Well, I mean, it’ll be all decked out in what you want, but it’ll be all yours, just for my little Scorpius.”
She picked him back up again, smiling as he blinked up at her. She couldn’t believe that he was really hers, this beautiful little baby. Hermione closed her eyes, and just sat in silence, Scorpius nuzzled close to her.
Disclaimer: Everything recognizable belongs to J.K. Rowling. Lyrics from Set Down Your Glass belong to Snow Patrol.