A House Divided

Approximately Six Weeks After Twelve Months Into the Next Year…

 

Draco entered his home to find his mother and (almost) mother-in-law in the parlor overseeing the children.

 

“What’s happened!? Something’s happened to Hermione!!”

 

Jeanie Granger rose first to calm the young (almost) husband before he entered his lioness’ den — literally.

 

“You and Hermione have a great deal to discuss. She’s upset. Narcissa and I will keep the children — take all the time you need.”

 

From the floor, the skirt of her dress draped around her like a picnic blanket, Narcissa Malfoy joined the quiet explanation.

 

“I’ve had Poppet take meals and refreshments to your suite. You do need to resolve this with Hermione, Draco. Do be careful, son.”

 

Confused and concerned, Draco mounted the stairs with an impending sense of doom. Knocking brought no answer from her, not that he’d expected it to.

 

Man up, Malfoy. Whatever it is, you can get through this…

 

The ornate French Provincial door knob creaked with the slowness of his twisting. Using his snake-skin booted toe, an increasingly anxious Slytherin nudged the door to his suite open and poked enough of his head through to track any projectiles aimed his way.

 

“Lioness?…”

“Come in and sit down.”

 

Hermione’s calm did not improve Draco’s calm one iota but he did as he was told. The ancient grandfather clock in the corner struck half-past six.

 

“You were wearing a fucking condom —”

 

The subject and the outcome became abruptly clear… 

 

“That’s what I hear condoms are for, you know — fucking. And it wasn’t a —”

“How did I end up PREGNANT!? 

 

…so did his memory of that night, the anniversary of their first real date.

 

“It’s not really a condom; it’s called a ‘French tickler’.”

“How did it BREAK, Draco!?”

“Hard to say as any failure must have happened while it was buried inside of you.”

“You’re telling me you didn’t NOTICE when your COCK suddenly got HAPPIER!? You hadn’t  MENTIONED leaving THREE LOADS OF MALFOY SEED behind!”

“Five loads, according to the pensieve. And it’s a sex toy — one you enjoyed multiple times to near unconsciousness. The purpose of the sheath is to enhance your pleasure, Lioness, not necessarily prevent conception.”

“It’s a CONDOM, Draco — that’s what they DO!”

“French tickler.”

“WHATEVER! Did you order the wrong SIZE!? I appreciate your proportions but did you EXPLAIN to them what had to fit INSIDE THE DAMN THING!?”

“I sent them measurements accompanied by photos.”

“Must have been a wallet-size…” she muttered 

“Considering our ‘pattern’ of producing Malfoy heirs, it didn't occur to you to cast the charm?”

“ You. Were Wearing. A CONDOM! Why would I cast the charm!? Did it OCCUR to YOU to tell me it could break BEFORE you used that defective con—”

“— French tick—”

 

The glare Hermione sent shut him up mid-correction.

 

“I thought we were SAFE! Your COCK was COVERED in LATEX!”

“Those were lambskin as I find they provide more sensation along my shaft and the ridges and bumps stimulate your —”

“SHUT IT, MALFOY!”

 

Noise from the floo distracted Draco — so did the movement of Hermione and Healer Armstrong in his direction.

 

“How may I serv— MS. GRANGER!!” the healer exclaimed.

 

A shocked Armstrong made a beeline to his other patient, the non-pregnant one.

 

“You can treat him now. I’m finished.”

 

At her feet lay a barely conscious Draco Malfoy bleeding profusely from his re-broken nose.