Unrequited

Thanks for being so patient!
Don't own them. I just play with them.
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The few days leading up to Christmas slipped away in a blur of shopping and decorating. Most of the time we managed to avoid Narcissa except at dinners, which were always formal and always eaten together. She only posed questions to Draco and acted as if I weren't there. Fine by me. I wasn't crazy about the old witch anyway.

I found myself being the only one up on Christmas morning. I looked over at Draco. He slept peacefully and I didn't want to disturb him. I put on my old flannel robe and stuck my feet into my bunny slippers. The fire had burned down sometime during the night and I used my wand to re-ignite it. My stomach gurgled then, letting me know that it most definitely was time to eat.

Slipping out of the room, I went downstairs to admire the tree and trimming. The top of the pine soared to the ceiling of the vast great hall. Underneath were big piles of festively wrapped packages and Christmas crackers scattered here and there. Unable to resist, I knelt under the tree's speading branches and found a small box with my name on it.

I shook it and heard something rattling around. Looking around and seeing no one, I opened the paper carefully only to find a small white box inside. I opened the box and lifted away the tissue paper.

At once a golden chain snaked from the box to the floor, wending its way up the stairs and down a corridor. I put the box down and followed the chain. It seemed a long way away, but I realized that I'd ended up at the door to the nursery. There was a key attached to the end of the chain. I turned the key and opened the door.

Good Lord. Draco had worked a marvel.

The nursery was completely outfitted in soft shades of yellow and white. There was a lace covered bassinet in the center of the room. An armoire, changing table and other assorted cabinets resided along the walls. The curtains were opened to the weak winter sunlight. Soft watery paintings hung on the freshly plastered and creme painted walls. They were of gardens with softly swaying flowers and marine scenes with waves that gently lapped at small rowboats. A golden oak rocking chair with an ottoman stood in front of one of the windows and large, comfortable looking wingchairs stood sentinel in front of the fireplace.

"You could've waited until I was awake to open your gift."

I jumped. "Jesus, Draco! Don't sneak up behind me like that." I turned to face him.

"Well? What do you think?" I could hear a touch of anxiety in his voice.

"It'll do, husband, it'll do."

He smirked. "Glad to know it's up to snuff, wife."

"You know I love it. Thank you."

He did me the courtesy of blushing with pleasure. Goodness, he's a handsome man.

"You're very welcome. Come on. We'll get a bit of breakfast and then you can open your other gifts."

"Other? There's more?"

"Of course there's more." He tugged my hand and we went back downstairs. In the small breakfast room, the elves had performed a miracle. All of my favourite breakfast foods were there, creating a wonderful medley of smells. I sniffed deeply. Draco laughed at my delight.

"Don't hurt yourself, Hermione."

"Oh, I won't." He pulled out my chair and seated me.

"What would you like?" he asked, poised over an enormous dish of fluffy scrambled eggs.

"Some of everything."

He raised an elegant eyebrow. "Aren't we becoming the gourmand?"

"Hush and give me the plate. I'm starving!" Which I was.

"You're going to get fat," He opined after seating himself and eating elegantly. Bastard.

"Not a chance. I intend to burn off this baby fat as soon as possible," I managed to get out in between stuffing my face.

"Oh, don't get me wrong," Draco replied, smirking a little. "I think you would be simply adorable with a little meat on your bones - a little plump dumpling."

"Well, I wouldn't." I pushed the half empty plate away, thoroughly annoyed. "Now you've ruined my appetite."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Hell, Hermione. I was just taking the mickey. Truth be told, I've always felt you've been overly thin."

"Not my fault - fast metabolism and regular swims." I took a sip of my tea. "Speaking of which, is there a pool in this vast mausoleum?"

"Yes, down on the first sublevel."

"*First?*" I was incredulous.

"Yes. This house, contrary to its outward appearance, is just as large as Hogwarts is." He calmly forked up a bite of eggs and tomato.

"Merlin's -"

"Don't say it!" He was aghast, and I chuckled.

"I won't."

"Good." Exchanging grins, we settled in to breakfast. After a bit, Draco spoke again.

"I wonder where Mother is hiding herself. It's not her usual habit to sleep so late."

"Well..."

"I know what you're going to say. Refrain. She is my mother, after all."

"True." I held my tongue in the interests of peace. We'd been getting along famously lately. Even now, the thought of last night's sex warmed my toes.

"I know what you're thinking, you naughty girl."

"Do you?"

"I do. Perhaps I'll indulge you after we've opened presents." He gave me a smouldering look from across the scones.

"I shall depend upon it."

"Oh, Merlin's balls! Save me from this!" We rolled our eyes as Narcissa sailed into the room, right on cue.

"And a Happy Christmas to you, too, Mother."

"You know what would make me happy, Draco."

"Well, it's not going to happen, so resign yourself."

I tried to remain silent. These little skirmishes were usually brief if I kept out of it.

"And you. Enjoying my son's misguided largesse?" she sneered.

"Very much, thank you." I smiled at the woman's attempt at a set down. I knew that continued cheerfulness only frustrated her more than aggression.

"Well, you may as might take what you can get now, you little golddigger. When you've whelped that-that *half-breed*, he'll send you packing soon enough!" She dropped her lithe frame into a chair down the table from us.

"Mother! If you don't want to spend your entire Christmas in a full body bind, I suggest you shut your mouth!"

"Don't you worry, I've said my peace." A fully loaded plate sailed over to where Narcissa sat. "Just don't get comfortable, dear." She smiled a sick grin that made my palms itch to wipe it off.

"Are you quite finished, Hermione?" Draco inquired gently.

"Yes, I think I am." He rose from his seat and helped me from my chair.

I saw Narcissa's triumphant smile flash before we exited the room.
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"Don't pay any attention to Mother. She's just bitter."

"I know. That doesn't make her any less unpleasant." I rubbed my hand absently over my tummy. The alien was awake, finally, and turning somersaults in agitation.

"Well, short of removing her larynx, I can't make her shut up. Either way, we're leaving around two-ish to spend the rest of the holiday with your parents, so we won't have to put up with her bitchery."

"Bitchery." I grinned. "Is that a word?"

"It is now." He smiled and we went into the drawing room where the house elves had placed our gifts in neat piles. We both had respectable amounts of presents from each other and friends.

"Shall we alternate?" I asked as we settled ourselves on opposite settees.

"It's only fair. You can go first."

"How generous!" I smirked and reached for the first box. "It's from you. Although how you're going to top the nursery, I haven't the faintest idea."

He merely smiled and watched as I tore open the wrappings. Inside was a ring, but not just any ring. Made of solid gold, it featured a lion rampant with a rippling mane and tail carved across the wide band. The eyes were the clearest rubies I'd ever seen and the fangs glittered with tiny diamonds.

"My God, Draco! This must have cost you a fortune!" I was astounded.

"Well, I *do* have several fortunes to spend. I take that to mean that you like it."

"It'll do." I slipped the ring onto the middle finger of my right hand. It should flash merrily in Snape's classroom and annoy the piss out of him.

"Well. If jewelry doesn't worm its way into your hard little heart..." He was opening his gift from me. I watched eagerly but Draco was a neat unwrapper.

"Oh, do hurry up. You're the slowest opener I've ever seen."

"The best gifts are those that are savoured." He eased the lid of the box off and lifted the object from the tissue paper.

"It's a cup." He looked at me enquiringly.

"It's not just any cup," I huffed.

"It isn't?" Draco raised an eyebrow at me.

"No. Look at it."

He looked inside the goblet and saw the twined serpents at the bottom. "Is this Salazar Slytherin's cup?" He asked, incredulous.

"Like it?"

"Adore it." Draco turned the cup over and over in his hands, marvelling at it. "However did you get it?"

I smirked. "I'll never tell," I singsonged.

"You clever bitch."

"Count on it."

"Alright, missy, open your next gift."

I attacked the box with gusto. This package was larger than the one I'd just opened and so was rather unwieldy. It was also very solid. I lifted the lid and pushed aside the tissue.

"Hogwarts: A History." I read aloud. "I already have a copy."

"Look inside, halfwit,' he teased.

I opened the leather bound book and instead of neat printed typesetting, there was flowing script. "Is this the original?"

"Of course it is. The first editions of 'Hogwarts: A History' were journals written by the founders. Only later were they combined to make the abridged version sold in the bookstores. In your hands you hold Rowena Ravenclaw's account of those first years. And just like the newer editions, it self-updates when something of interest happens in or around the Hogwarts grounds."

I ran my hands over the bluish writing, literally feeling it pulse under my hands with magic. I turned a few pages gingerly, being careful of the medieval parchment.

"Oh, Draco..." I was choked with emotion.

"I take that to mean that you like it." He smiled warmly at me.

"Like it?" I got up rather unsteadily from where I sat on the floor and flung myself into his lap. "I *love* it." I peppered his face with grateful kisses.

"Alright, alright. Don't smother me," Draco groused, but I could hear the amusement in his voice.

I leaned away. "That's right. You still have gifts to open."

"As do you. Whyn't we get down to it?"

And we did.
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We finished opening our gifts. I even opened Mother's gifts to me. She'd gotten me a top class broom cleaning kit and a new pair of cufflinks. Hermione oohed and aahed over the other things I'd gotten her, like the matching earrings to the ring. I'd gotten the baby something which made Hermione laugh: a tiny green Quidditch singlet. It was my turn to laugh when I opened her gift to the baby, which was another Quidditch singlet, only in Gryffindor red.

We retired to our rooms to pack and ready ourselves to travel to her parents' home in Chelsea. I wouldn't admit it to Hermione, but I was very nervous to spend that amount of time with her Muggle parents, who surely disapproved of me as much as they did magic in general. I think they'd held out hope that Hermione would go back to the Muggle world and marry some nice middle-class bloke who schlepped to an office everyday. So much for that dream.

She emerged from the bathroom, curls in messy disarray down her back. The slightest bit of bump filled out the charcoal grey crepe dress. With a freshly washed face and not a dab of makeup on, she looked fresh and wholesome and utterly delicious. That is, until she stopped in front of the bed where I lounged.

Hermione grinned at me wickedly and raised one leg to rest on the mattress. The flared skirt of the dress fell back to reveal the fact that she didn't have on any panties and that she was still completely hairless.

"It's so hard to get the seams straight on these stockings," she innocently commented. I watched her hand skim down the surface of the sheer black silk, such a contrast to the paleness of her hands and thigh. Hermione made a show of 'straightening' the seams on both stockings, making sure to flash those creamy folds at me. When she was done teasing me, she took her leg down and flipped her skirt into place.

How in the world she can go from scheming temptress to innocent looking Madonna is beyond me. But in her little leather flats, that's exactly what she looked like. I had to shake my head to clear it.

"Are you quite ready to go?" She asked, a smile in her voice.

"Of course. I was merely waiting on you." I congratulated myself on keeping my voice down to an amused drawl. If only other body parts would react the same way.

We left the house and traveled to the nearest train station. As it was Christmas Day there weren't very many people about and no-one noticed the horseless carriage. Although the Anti-Noticing Charm might've had something to do with it. And so we took the short ride into London proper. We were getting off at Victoria Station.

I don't think I'd ever noticed the city so still. It was cold, colder than Wiltshire and completely snowless. Her parents were waiting in the garage. Their conveyance was smaller than I expected, yet still sleek. Hermione ran to her mother and they hugged. Her father's gaze was steely as he eyed the defiler of his daughter. Oh, Mr. Granger. If you only knew.

I stuck my hand out. "Sir."

"Draco." We shook hands as tersely as we greeted each other. And with that he ignored me and turned to his daughter.

"Why, Hermione. You're blooming. Positively blooming!" His voice was deep. They embraced and then he held her back from him. Her face shone between the granite grey overcoat and the hand-knitted cap she'd made. Sweet-faced and innocent looking, she radiated good health, with the rosy pink cheeks of pregnancy accentuated by the cold weather. A true English rose. I mentally slapped myself for such poetic thoughts.

"Thank you, Dad." She dimpled merrily at her sire. "However, I'm freezing to death, so why don't we go?"

"At once, princess." Mr. Granger snapped his daughter a merry salute and went to get her bags. "I suppose you can manage your own, can't you?" He couldn't keep the condescension from his tone.

"Of course." I was a little affronted. But, at least he wasn't being outrageously rude, like my mother.

I grabbed them up and began stowing them in the back of the vehicle. I vaguely remember hearing somewhere that it was called a "boot". God knows why. The only boots I was interested in were black python, from Milan. We were all settled in the small automobile and on our way.
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The house looked just like I'd left it - small garden in front, red painted door, brass knocker, semi-detached. However, it was the first time I would be entering it as a married woman. I wondered about our sleeping arrangements for the first time. The boys had never come to properly visit and the one time Ron had been at my parents' house, I'd snuck him in through my window. How things had changed.

We all piled out of the Saab and grabbed a bag out of the boot. My father preceded us into the house and I gasped at all the lovely decorations. There were boughs of holly and ivy all around, multi-coloured fairy lights (the electric Muggle kind) twinkled merrily in the big pine tree situated in the hallway. There were bright packages piled beneath the tree awaiting us and I felt sentimental tears welling up. Stupid hormones.

"Everything looks lovely, Dad." I sniffed a little.

He turned to me as he finished putting the coats away. "Feeling a bit sensitive?"

"No taking the mickey." I settled myself on the sofa.

"That's right, dear. You've forgotten how tender I was when I was pregnant with Hermione." Good old Mum to the rescue.

"Don't remind me. You were a bear to live with - all your bloody mood swings."

I looked over at Draco. He stood apart from us, watching the good-natured banter bemusedly. Of course. He's unaccustomed to this sort of thing between families.

"Well? Why're you cowering in that corner, Draco? Come along." I patted the cushion next to me.

"I was not cowering. Malfoys don't cower." Nevertheless, he straightened away from the wall and sidled over.

Instead of coming to sit beside me, he stood behind me and rested his hand on the back of my neck. Mm. His hand was so warm. I think I started purring when he began to slighty rub the muscles at the nape of my neck.

"Ahem!"

I opened my eyes. Mum was looking over at us with a bemused and pleased look on her face. Dad was positively scowling.

"Sorry, Parents. Drifted away there for a bit." I didn't need to see the look on Draco's face to know he was smirking his little arse off as he drifted over to sit beside me, smug as all get out.

"Why don't we open gifts now?" Mother offered.

"Excellent idea," my father agreed. He went to the tree and began sorting the presents. It was very nearly a replay of this morning. My parents had absolutely no idea of who their new son-in-law was, which led to some completely ordinary gifts. A couple of ties and some embroidered handkerchiefs, as if Draco was some ancient grandfather to be mollified. I wanted to laugh when I saw the expression on his face.

"Um, thank you Mr. Granger. Mrs.Granger." Thoroughly disappointed. Poor Draco.

I opened my gift from them. Inside was an enormous book, worn and tattered. The cover read Figurative Figments and Imaginative Incantations: A Fanciful Guide to Everyday Casting. The last of the metallic threads woven into the cover twinkled merrily and I was well pleased. It was the first magical gift my parents had ever given me.

"That's a first edition. We asked Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to get it for us." My father sounded proud of his ingenuity and thoughtfulness. I could feel the waterworks about to start, and not all of them were due to my hormones.

"Oh, Dads," I said, sniffing. "It's beautiful."

"Oh, dear. I didn't mean to get the spigots flowing." My father quipped.

"Here, take one of these." Draco unfurled one of his Christmas hankies and handed it to me. I used the time it took to mop my face to compose myself.

"Thanks," I said. "I'll put this to good use." I ran my hand over the cover of the book again, awed by it.

"I have a gift for the baby," Mum announced and then handed me a largish package.

Opening the box I saw it was filled with an incredibly well-knitted layette set. Silken white yarns were the background for small green and yellow animals that marched across bonnets, booties, shirts and pants. Inside every garment was stitched a little label that read "Expressly for You, by Nana."

"Did you knit these all by yourself Mum?"

"Of course."

And dammit, wouldn't you know it, I cried again.