Tapping

Kevin went to bed much more easily than Draco expected. Hermione made coffee, and they sat in the living room.

“I’ve been thinking about what we discussed earlier,” he said softly.

“Oh?” she asked, trying to sound breezy.

“You know, Hermione, I have trouble remembering what your face looks like,” he mused. “Sometimes I can conjure the frizzy-haired girl from school.”

“I wear my hair straight now,” she said.

He sighed.

“I can remember the last time I saw you, but that’s probably not a fair image.”

“What are you getting at, Draco?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Does Kevin know you want to do this?”

“We discussed it.”

“Does he like the idea?”

“He’s not sure.”

Draco nodded.

“I sometimes wonder what my childhood would have been like if Mother and Father could stand to touch each other again and give me a sibling. I can’t help but think I might have turned out better.”

“You’re not so bad,” Hermione said. Draco laughed.

“Kind of you.” He patted her hand gently. “I want you to be happy, Hermione, and if I have that in my power it is yours.”

She breathed in sharply.

“Really?” she asked. He nodded. Then he pursed his lips.

“What will you tell him?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said. “He’s so young.”

“So you want to wait?”

“If I had my way I would never have to tell him,” she admitted, feeling a bit ashamed of herself.

“Ah, but just because the answers are difficult doesn’t mean he won’t ask the questions.”

She shifted uncomfortably. Finally, she tucked her legs up on the sofa beside her. Draco leaned back in the armchair, cradling his coffee cup.

“How do you feel about it?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel about it,” Draco said. “I’m sorry, but it’s your decision.”

Hermione hummed. Draco finished his coffee, felt for the coaster, and set the mug down on the end table.

“It’s getting late,” he said. “I really ought to go home. Ron will get lonely.”

She didn’t say anything, and he stood.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” she said reluctantly.

The door was unlocked when he got home. He frowned and let himself in.

“Ron?”

Draco locked the door behind him.

“Ron, I’m home,” he said. He took off his jacket and hung it on one of the pegs by the door. There was still no answer.

“If you’re trying to sneak up on me it won’t work,” he muttered.

He went into the bedroom and kicked off his shoes.

“Hi,” Ron said softly.

“Why didn’t you answer?” Draco asked, sitting on the bed. Ron was lying on his back with his arm over his eyes, and although Draco didn’t know the difference he hadn’t turned the lights on.

“I don’t suppose you listened to the news this afternoon,” Ron said.

“Have you been smoking in the house?” Draco asked.

“I needed to relax.”

Draco frowned.

“So how many drinks did you have?” he asked, lifting Ron’s shirt to kiss his stomach.

“Three.”

“I see.” He stretched out next to his lover and put his hands behind his head. “Go on, tell me.”

“Why don’t you tell me about your day with Hermione and Kevin?” Ron asked.

Draco sighed.

“Hermione wants to have another baby,” he said. “She asked me to be the father.”

“Well that’s…” Ron paused. “Wait, what?”

“Come on, what were you going to tell me?”

Ron shook his head.

“Don’t freak out,” he warned.

“When do I ever ‘freak out’?” Draco asked.

“The new Minister of Magic has decided to parole your father.”

Draco swallowed hard.

“Now why would he do a thing like that?” he asked, trying to sound casual. Ron sat up and put his arms around him.

“I don’t know,” he said.