Keeping Secrets

A/N: I am so happy about the reviews that we are getting it makes me all warm and fuzzy inside so I decieded to post another chapter tonight. And people we are getting close to the end only another two chapters left so we hope you all enjoy the next chapter.

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“Pass me that box of pins?” Madam Hellier requested waving one hand towards the box and her assistant, her other hand held a fold of white silk at the hemline of the robe.

“Are you sure that it’ll still fit?”

Madam Hellier barely restrained from glaring at the young bride, she hated having her work insulted, no matter how much pregnancy swelled the girl her dress would still fit perfectly come her wedding day. “I am certain, Miss Granger. Not only will it still fit, it will still look amazing.”

The bride-to-be shifted nervously on the fitting stool, her hands smoothing over the white silk covering her belly.

“Oh relax Hermione! Don’t forget, this isn’t a muggle wedding dress, you have magic on your side as well as the best seamstress in several hundred years,” Madam Hellier smiled at the Weasley girl who had spoken.

The bride nodded and smiled too and the fitting continued.

Ginny Weasley wasn’t a fool. She also wasn’t as emotionally ignorant as her brother or Harry could be, and she felt that there was something seriously off about the approaching nuptials. However, she had no proof and no wish to alienate Hermione, however much she was having trouble believing that Draco and Hermione were happily expecting their twins and wedding.

She knew that however much she doubted, that to not be there, to not support her friend, would be wrong, and that was why she currently was swathed in lavender silk, waiting patiently as Madam Hellier tutted and pinned. The older witch seemed much happier now she had a client on her stool that wasn’t fidgeting and worrying every five seconds.

Eventually the dress robes were finished, and Ginny forced her mind to peace. If this was what her friend wanted, this was what her friend would get.

Draco was annoyed. If one more person mentioned their surprise at his choice of bride, they would be on the receiving end of a swift hexing. This was supposed to be his stag night, not an interrogation.

It didn’t help that his father had had a great deal of control over the guest-list; if it had been down to him it would only have included Vincent, Greg, Blaise, perhaps Theodore and a trip down to the Leaky Cauldron. Instead he had the male half of the wizarding elite, mostly Death Eaters and political figures who thought this a way to get in good with the Ministry and public the same way Lucius was using the whole fiasco. And it was no simple trip down to the Leaky either. No, for Lucius’ one and only son it was a banquet with extras.

“Jesus, Malfoy. You couldn’t just have something simple, you had to go and try to make yourself look better than the rest of us mere mortals.”

Draco’s grip tightened around his glass, and he took a deep breath before he turned to face them. He knew it had to be both of them; they’d stuck to each other’s sides like limpets ever since they’d portkeyed in from wherever it was Dumbledore was keeping Potter for the summer.

He turned and saw that he was right; both Potter and Weasley stood before him, and the Weasel looked pleased at the pause his words had made Draco take. Draco sneered briefly.

“Glad you could make it, Weasley,” he said politely after reminding himself that this had to go well.

Weasley looked like he was going to say something, but stopped. Draco wondered what had made him stop, when he noticed that the cause was a tug Potter had made on Weasley’s hand. They were actually holding hands. It wasn’t just that Potter had a hold on Weasley’s sleeve, as Draco had first assumed, and Draco wondered if there were any other assumptions about the pair that he should revise. Starting with the idea that Weasley was as straight as they came.

“Thank you, Malfoy,” Weasley said at last, though his expression said otherwise.

Potter frowned at him, “Yes, thanks for having us, Malfoy. You looking forwards to Saturday?”

Draco only just stopped himself rolling his eyes. “Of course, what sort of person wouldn’t be looking forwards to their wedding day?”

He hoped that the fact he’d just told them a huge lie wouldn’t be obvious to them. He was actually dreading the wedding. It would keep his siblings safe, Hermione too, but it wasn’t what he wanted. He hated the idea that the only way he could keep everyone safe was to trap Hermione and himself in marriage. That the Ministry had spells on the paperwork that couldn’t be circumnavigated that required consummation of the marriage before it would file and approve the marriage… that was just the cherry on top of a rancid cake.

When the pair nodded and accepted his words as truth Draco thanked his lucky stars that he could apparently lie with the best of them.

“You should really try some of the white,” Draco said, indicating the glass of red wine Ron held. “It’s really good, comes from some tiny little village in France. I think we might own it.”

“Right. Will do,” Potter said.

“You do know, Malfoy, that if you hurt Hermione in any way, we’ll shred you into tiny pieces and feed you to some of Hagrid’s pets?”

“Ron!” Potter exclaimed. “I thought we’d agreed not to outright threaten him, seeing as he’s got home ground advantage?” It was clear that Potter was not happy with Weasley, but Draco noticed that he didn’t drop his hand.

“But Harry, he’s a stupid git, if we didn’t spell it out, he’d never get it!”

“I assure you, Weasley, that even had you had gone for subtlety – not that I’m entirely sure you know how to be subtle – I have no intention of hurting her,” Draco cut in before Potter could say whatever was burning behind his narrowed eyes.

“Fine, but remember what will happen if you do.”

Draco nodded. “Shredded, fed to Hagrid’s monsters. Got it.”

“Good,” Weasley replied. “Right. Let’s go see about that white wine then, Harry?”

Potter nodded, and once more Draco was left to ponder why he had put himself in this position to begin with. Not that he was planning on changing it any time soon.

Hermione wasn’t having the best of times at her hen party either.

Narcissa Malfoy was getting on her nerves. Hermione thought it might be her hormones out of whack, at least a little bit, because if Narcissa said one more thing about the care of infant witches and wizards, or asked what she thought of some name that should have been left to Shakespearean text, Hermione was going to hit her. Hard.

Not that she would indulge that desire. Hitting your soon to be mother-in-law was most probably not the best way to start off the relationship. But it would be a close thing.

“Here, have another orange juice,” Ginny said, passing Hermione a glass as she rejoined her and Narcissa.

Hermione just managed to keep a lid on her temper and resorted to giving Ginny a glare. It sucked, in Hermione’s opinion that she couldn’t even drink at her own hen party. That was what they were for, wasn’t it? Getting fall-down drunk. Only she couldn’t; Poppy Pomfrey would have her head served up on a platter if she so much as looked at any alcoholic beverage.

“Thank you,” she said nevertheless; however annoying Narcissa was, she was the epitome of manners and correct etiquette, and there was no way Hermione wanted to appear less than the same.

“You’re welcome,” Ginny said with a grin. “What’s the latest? Got her convinced on Mildred yet?”

“Unfortunately, she seems quite resistant to my suggestions,” Narcissa said, fingers strumming on the stem of her wine glass. “Next on the list is Myrtle.”

Hermione couldn’t help it. Her jaw dropped. “I am not naming one of my children after than whiney bitch of a ghost!”

Narcissa said nothing, merely raised one of her perfectly plucked and shaped brows. Ginny was looking around nervously at the other guests, but only Pansy Parkinson, who has been on her way over to them seemed to have paid any attention to Hermione’s outburst, and was still laughing at Hermione who was blushing bright-red when she reached them.

“Um. I’m sorry Mrs – Narcissa. I –“

“I understand. I was something of a dragon with a headache when I was expecting Draco,” Narcissa said, smiling fondly.

Hermione relaxed. Then a thought occurred, “Is that why he’s called Draco?”

Narcissa laughed, “It’s one of them.”

“Cute,” Pansy piped in. “Does he know?”

“Not likely,” Narcissa replied. “Just as I suppose that you are unaware you were named more for your mother’s opinion of your father than any fondness for the flower.”

Pansy appeared surprised momentarily, but Hermione was almost impressed with how fast she covered it and smiled.

“Anyway, I’m sure Draco and yourself will eventually see sense and choose good, traditional names for your children,” Narcissa said.

Ginny grinned, “Ginevra for the girl, perhaps?”

“I think one Ginevra is enough to be going on with,” Hermione replied.

“Not exactly the way round to do things, is it?” Pansy said glancing at the obvious bulge in Hermione’s robes.

Before Hermione could say anything in her defence, Narcissa cut in, “It is the way it is. That cannot be changed now.”

Hermione nodded and without noticing she was doing it, rested one hand against her belly.

It couldn’t be changed now, in less than three days she’d be married to Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. The children growing inside her weren’t even his. But they were his blood and he’d made it very clear over the last few months that he would do anything he could to keep members of his family safe. And she desperately wanted them to be safe.

It wasn’t that Draco hadn’t ever been nice to her, on the contrary, these last few months he’d been wonderful. It was just that Hermione had always assumed that she would love the person she married for more than the fact that they were ensuring that both her life and her children’s lives could continue.

Hermione sighed. She and Draco were friends now, perhaps one day that might become something more.

“Not getting cold feet, are you Granger?”

Hermione smiled, “No, not at all.”

On the actual day of the wedding Hermione wasn’t so sure that she’d be able to pull it off. There were butterflies in her tummy and she had to fight to keep her hands from shaking as she helped Ginny and her mother with the white silk of her wedding dress robes.

Her mother was already near tears. Thankfully Narcissa seemed to have more of a handle on things, and was even going so far as to try to cheer up Hermione’s mum, which was something Hermione wouldn’t have ever thought possible.

It seemed to take forever to get the fine white robes on correctly, and even longer to fix her hair and make-up. It was almost unbearable, this waiting, but it was another of those things Hermione couldn’t change and had to accept.

By the time to actually go out and face the music came around, Hermione was about ready to call everything off. Only the thought of safety got her down the elegant staircase to take her father’s arm.

“You look wonderful, love,” her father whispered, placing his hand over hers on his arm.

Hermione just about managed to whisper back. “Thanks Dad.”

Her father led her through an impressively carved set of doors, and though she had seen the hall partially decorated, her breath caught at the sight. There were flowers and decoration everywhere, and now the pews were filled with many wizards and witches in their finery it seemed even more wonderful.

Her stomach clenched briefly when she set eyes on Draco, and was pleased to note that he’d kept to his word and by him stood Blaise rather than Lucius. She counted to five and took several slow, deep breaths, trying to control her anxiety as she was walked up the aisle.

She managed to smile at Ron and Harry, then her mother when she passed them, and remembered not to walk so fast that they caught up to Ginny. She even managed to smile at Draco when she was transferred from her father over to him.

As the Ministry authorised priest began to speak his greeting and open the ceremony, Hermione looked at Draco, really looked at him, and felt herself relax. She was safe with him. The smile that she’d placed on her face melted, to be replaced by a genuine smile.

Hermione lost herself in thoughts of safety, of home and of Draco, almost to the point where the ceremony occurring around her became fuzzy and unreal to her, only Draco and herself remaining clear.

She was dragged out of the haze of her thoughts when Draco’s grin widened, and she realised that the priest was waiting for her to respond. Realising that she was playing her role perfectly, she let her eyes flicker to the priest only briefly before returning her steady gaze to Draco, then answered.

“I do.”

The guests were quiet enough that everyone present could hear her two words. She realised then that she must have missed Draco saying it, but decided it didn’t matter, since everything was going so well.

Only a moment later a ring of platinum and gold entwined was being pushed onto her finger, and she was returning the favour to Draco, she was surprised to find herself grinning as she did so.

“By the power vested in me by the Church and the Ministry of Magic, I now pronounce you man and wife.”

Amid the applause and smiles from their friends, Draco leaned forwards and pressed a chaste kiss to Hermione’s lips. She couldn’t make the grin fade.

The reception was held in the grounds of the manor. The dinner was held under a white and gold marquee, but the dance-floor was open to the air.

Hermione couldn’t believe how much her earlier anxiety had evaporated, and she was more relaxed than she had been even at the end of the wedding ceremony by the time it came to share the first dance of the evening with Draco in the waning light.

It was odd; Draco decided as he gently guided Hermione around the floor, he was married. The woman he was dancing with was his wife. His arms tightened around her, holding her closer and smiled.

Hermione smiled back and hugged back as best she could.

The good mood broke as the music changed. Hermione’s anxiety came flooding back as Lucius Malfoy approached, but she swallowed it down, and allowed Draco to go and dance with her mother, as Lucius held her at arms length and did the same.

“Congratulations, Miss Granger,” Lucius said, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

Hesitantly she replied, “Thank you, Mr. Malfoy.” She didn’t point out that she was pretty much ‘Mrs. Malfoy’ now rather than ‘Miss Granger’, she didn’t want to provoke Lucius in any way.

As if the children could tell what was going on, they started to kick her, hard. She couldn’t help it; she sprang back with a yelp and placed both hands over them as if that would calm them.

Lucius was frowning, “Are you quite all right?”

Hermione barely kept back her glare. “Your grandchildren have decided to wake up and join the party,” she said, and though she’d managed not to glare, her tone made it quite clear that she was decidedly not amused.

“Perhaps you should go and sit down, love, wait for them to calm down a bit.”

Hermione looked up and saw that Draco and her mother had come over.

“Yes, good idea,” Hermione agreed, and was pleased when Draco accompanied her, arm around her, holding her close as he guided her to where some seats and small tables had been left, so that the various elderly relatives and guests had somewhere to take a break from dancing.

Ron, Harry, Ginny and quite a number of other concerned persons soon surrounded her.

“I’m fine, really, it’s just the babies messing around,” Hermione assured everyone.

Ron and Harry hung around the longest, Ginny had been asked to dance by one of the Malfoy relatives, and Draco had been dragged off to dance with his mother.

When the babies finally calmed themselves Hermione took both her best friends to the dance floor, where they more stood and swayed to the music more than danced.

“So, how is married life treating you?” Harry asked with a wry grin.

Hermione smacked him lightly on the arm. “Well, the past couple of hours have been good,” she said with a grin.

“It’s hard to believe it. Hermione married Malfoy!” Ron said.

“I’m finding that hard to believe too,” Hermione admitted.

They shared a group hug as Draco appeared to take Hermione for one last dance before cutting the cake.

They swirled around the dance-floor for a little while, and Draco asked Hermione if she was all right, and ready to disappear.

The cake was layered and Draco and Hermione left before the house elves arrived to serve the rest of it to the guests.

The room they retired to was not Draco’s own, but the suite of rooms that were theirs now. Hermione had never seen the rooms Draco had previously occupied and she made a mental note to ask to see them. For some reason it seemed highly inappropriate to ask to go and see them now.

Draco sealed the suite off from the rest of the manor with a spell. “No interruptions,” he said with a small smile.

“Right. So, which way is the bedroom?” Hermione asked, trying very hard not to blush and not to sound apprehensive. This was necessary, she’d known that going in, but it didn’t stop her from feeling the slightest edge of fear as she moved towards the set of double doors Draco had pointed to.

“That’s the main bedroom of this suite. There is another one though; it’s why I chose this suite, through the door over there,” Draco said, pointing to a single door along the other wall. “Both are en suite. I expect we were allowed this suite to turn the spare room into a nursery, but … I guess that will be mine and the twins can share with you.”

Hermione nodded, then turned away from him and pulled the double doors open.

“Wow.”

Draco smiled again, “Yeah, most of the manor is just as over the top with it’s splendour too.” He followed her into the room.

The bed was four-postered and dressed in shades of pale blue, the rest of the room shared the cream and gold theme of the main room of the suite. The drapes at the windows were the same shade as the main pale blue of the bedspread.

Draco closed off the double doors once he was through, but left them unlocked. He paused, leaning back against the doors for a moment, before crossing to where Hermione stood, eyes fixed on the bed.

“You need to relax,” he said, turning her face towards him gently.

Hermione laughed, “That is not as easy as it sounds.” She closed her eyes to try to get control of herself. A moment passed and then she felt lips brush against her own.

A kiss, they’d kissed before, she could do that.

She relaxed into his arms, melting into the kiss, opening her mouth to Draco when his tongue licked over her lips. She made herself concentrate on the way his tongue moved over her own, and the way his hands were gently massaging down her back.

The robe that had taken forever to get into was surprisingly easy to remove and she was standing in her underwear before her mind had noticed more than the kiss.

Draco pulled away then, hands going to the fastening on his own robes. While he started removing them, he watched Hermione as she watched him. He was only mildly surprised when Hermione batted his hands away and slid his robes off herself.

They paused then, and it was Hermione who decided that the best thing to do would be to return to kissing, so she moved forwards and brought Draco to her, one hand on either side of his face.

Eventually they got so absorbed in what they were doing that they forgot to think about anything that would have held them back.

Hermione decided that it felt wonderful to have Draco’s hands stroke over her skin, pausing for moments and massaging eliciting sighs and moans of pleasure from her. It was only as he drew back slightly and began to move his mouth over her that she realised that they were now actually on the bed and that somewhere along the way she’d lost her bra.

Hermione couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her when Draco ran his hands over her distended belly and pressed two kisses down.

“Mine, now,” he said with a grin.

Hermione slid her hand into his hair and tugged lightly. “Ours, and don’t forget it,” she corrected with a smile.

“Ours,” Draco repeated. “I can definitely live with that.”

He pressed another couple of kisses to her belly and then moved forwards, leaning his weight on his hands and kissed her.

He sat back on his haunches and slid his hands down Hermione’s sides and when he reached her knickers hooked his fingers in then continued down until they’d been completely drawn off. On the way back up he drew Hermione’s legs apart and ran his hands own the insides of her legs as he settled kneeling between them.

He moved one hand to her belly again. “You look beautiful, Hermione,” he said with a smile.

Hermione frowned, which was not the reaction Draco had anticipated. “I do not. I look like I swallowed a beach ball!”

Draco didn’t recognise the reference and asked confused, “What’s a beach ball?”

Hermione laughed. “A huge, air-filled, plastic ball muggles have at the beach.”

“Oh.” Draco frowned now. “You are made round with something a lot more precious than an air-filled, muggle toy. And I still happen to think you look beautiful.”

Hermione smiled. “If you say so,” she said, and the blush that had formed across her cheeks darkened.

“I do,” Draco said, then slid his hand downwards from where it had rested. He grinned as he watched Hermione’s reaction to the way his hand was stimulating her. He thought that what he had said was right, she looked beautiful panting and writhing before him, and felt wonderful arching up onto his fingers.

When Draco felt that Hermione was truly ready for him, he withdrew, and asked, “So, you on top then?” With Hermione nearing seven months pregnant with the twins their options had been limited by what would and wouldn’t be comfortable and achievable, and in one highly embarrassing discussion with Pomfrey this solution had come up.

He smirked when it took a moment for her to process what he’d said and form an answer. He then helped manoeuvre her over him, as he lay partially propped up by the pillows on the bed.

They were just about to coordinate bringing Hermione down and joining themselves together when she paused, eyes tightly shut and body so still.

Draco reached up and stroked the side of her face, frowning slightly when she flinched away.

“Hermione, what’s wrong?”

“I remember. Not all of it, but… enough.”

Draco swallowed hard. If there was a way to not do this, then he’d leave now, and he cursed all of the wizards responsible for this particular clause in the law.

“I don’t know what it was like, but I can guess that it wasn’t nice at all, and probably hurt a lot,” he said, trying to speak in a soothing tone of voice. “It won’t be like that now. I promise it won’t. I’m not him.” He moved his other hand off of her hip to join his left hand on her face and moved them into a gentle kiss. “It’ll be all right,” he promised.

He heard and felt Hermione draw in a shaky breath above him and release it before she opened her eyes. “I’m sor-“

“Don’t apologise,” Draco cut in before she could finish. “It’s not your fault. Not your fault at all.”

He paused, unsure of what to say next. He stroked one hand down her side as his other cupped her face; thumb brushing across her cheekbone repeatedly. “We can take this as slow as you need. I wish it were possible for me to stop this now, but you know what the spells are like…” he paused again. “I am sorry, Hermione, but the best we can do is go slow.”

“I know,” was the whisper he got in reply.

Draco kept true to his promises, and let Hermione completely control the pace of things. It was nothing like what Hermione could remember from before, this time it felt good, and right and wonderful, and one of the few coherent thoughts that passed through her as she reached orgasm was that she hoped she got to feel Draco inside her like this again.

After they were done was very different to what Hermione remembered from before too, she was held in a gentle embrace as she drifted off to an exhausted sleep, and could have sworn that Draco lay a light kiss on her forehead as she went.