Work Text:
October 2012
“Ugh,” Hermione groaned aloud in her office.
She had just returned from lunch and she was really regretting the steak and kidney pie from the Great Hall. She decided to see if Madame Pomfrey made an antacid or at least the magical equivalent of one. On her way to the hospital wing she went over what Harry told her about Ron and his son Wendell. She was overjoyed when Harry told her that Ron was a non-threat and that the Ministry-approved Obliviate 13 years ago worked and continues to work, but Wendell is quite a snoop. Apparently, Ron’s son had heard that he wasn’t the only Weasley with magic and so he did a genealogy spell and found out his English roots despite his father telling him that while he was born in Britain because his father was stationed in London during the Falklands War, he was an American. After that Wendell had located the British Weasleys from a MACUSA database that all American wizards were privy to and he had tried sending the British Weasleys owls only for them to be returned without delivery. Hermione wondered if she was stressed by the news that Wendell tried to contact his British-based family and that was the cause of her indigestion.
As Hermione rounded the corner to the hospital wing she spotted Scorpius, Trey, and Nichelle heading to the pitch for flying class, she smiled at the sight of her son and his friends. She knew all three were planning to tryout for the Slytherin Quidditch team next year and that flying class was just their way to practice refining their skills because she knew just what great flyers they were already. That happy thought seemed to quell her upset stomach momentarily as she reached the hospital wing.
“Headmistress, what can I do for you?” Madame Pomfrey asked the former star Gryffindor student and war heroine with a smile.
“I was wondering if you have a magical antacid, my stomach seems to not agree with my choice of lunch.”
“Hmm, how long has this been going on, Headmistress?”
“Since last week, I suppose. I had a bit of indigestion from the fish and chips served on Monday.”
“I see,” the elder witch murmured as she went to her supply cabinets. She grabbed an orange vial. “Try this, Hermione.”
“Poppy… that’s the first time you’ve called me by my first name since I took this job,” Hermione said with a cracking voice as she took the vial. The look of it reminded her of orange soda, the taste however did not. It tasted like liquified Cornish pasties. “Ugh.” Hermione grimaced.
Madame Pomfrey smiled emphatically, “One more moment, Hermione,” she took out her wand and ran a diagnostic spell over the younger witch. When the tip of her wand returned a purple colour, the elder witch smiled. “Well Hermione, you’re indeed pregnant.”
Hermione blushed. She quickly did the maths in her head and estimated she got pregnant around the first of September, she and Draco did quite a lot in the library those few hours before the Express arrived.
“You’re about six weeks along, Headmistress. The potion I gave you will stop the stomach pains and allow the little one to receive more nutrients per meal from now on. You and Lord Black seem to produce extraordinary magical children,” the medi-witch smiled.
“Well, thank you,” Hermione smiled bashfully.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Oh no, that’s quite enough, I suppose I should go and inform my husband,” Hermione played with her hands nervously.
“Well congratulations again, Hermione.”
Hermione said thank you and quickly left for her office.
“Lord Black’s Office!” Hermione called and threw in the floo powder only to get his secretary when she stuck her head in.
“Lady Malfoy, what can I do for you?” Hestia answered.
“Is my husband not around?”
“I’m sorry, my Lady, he is in conference with Mr Potter and the Minister.”
“Will he be long?”
“He’s been in since 9 this morning.”
“Since this morning? What on Earth could they talk so long for?”
“I’m not at liberty to say, my Lady.”
Hermione sighed, “I apologise, Hestia. Please tell Lord Black to contact me when he returns.”
“I will, Lady Malfoy.”
“Good day, Hestia.” Hermione disconnected the floo.
Hermione sighed again, it wasn’t like she wasn’t excited to be pregnant—Scorpius and the girls were her world—she loved them all. But she remembered how Minerva had to choose between children and her career and at this point she wanted to further her career. Although life always has other plans.
A knock on her office door drew her away from her thoughts, “Enter.”
Minerva McGonagall stepped in, she was happy to be acting Headmistress post-war but when Hermione accepted the position she gladly returned to her post as Head of Gryffindor and Transfiguration Professor. “I wanted to let you know that I reserved the Quidditch pitch for the next three days for tryouts and that the Minister would like a moment.”
Hermione nodded.
“Hermione, is everything alright?”
“Oh, it’s nothing I just found out I’m pregnant.”
“With Draco’s baby?” Minerva joked. Hermione laughed, in the years since she entered the Wizarding world rarely did she ever hear the stern professor joke.
“Yes, with Draco’s baby.”
“Congratulations, my dear. From my experiences so far with Scorpius I have to say you are an excellent mother.”
Hermione blushed, “Thank you Minerva, but I would reserve judgment until you’ve experienced the twins, they are Draco with my face according to Lucius.”
“Oh my,” Minerva smiled again, “well congratulations all the same. You’re—” A knock interrupted the Transfiguration professor, “That would be Kingsley. I should get to marking those essays anyway. May I use your floo?” Hermione nodded and McGonagall left through the floo for her office.
Another knock sounded, “Come in.”
“Hermione, it’s good to see you,” Kingsley greeted.
“You as well, Kingsley. What brings you from London?”
“To the point as ever,” Kingsley smiled, “I’ve been talking to Draco and Harry and they seem to think it is prudent to reject the proposed transfer program between Hogwarts and Ilvermorny. They fear that because MACUSA doesn’t recognise the dangers of the balance between light and dark magic as we do, their students could unknowingly set forth a dark renaissance among the few remaining traditional pureblood families. What do you think?”
“If anyone was to know about dark magic and improper use of it, it would be those two. What’s your opinion, Kingsley?”
“I asked you first,” Kingsley smiled.
“Fair enough. Personally I agree with Harry and my husband, however, as an educator, I feel depriving students of a chance to learn to be a disservice. However, if push comes to shove, I agree we cannot allow a potential Third Wizarding War to happen because of a throwaway comment made by an outsiders opinion. MACUSA is wonderful—or so Draco tells me—but they are less knowledgeable about magic and the delicate balance we fought to restore. I realise how hypocritical that sounds coming from me, a muggle-born, but I do feel less safe knowing that their history is just theirs and doesn’t include ours. It’s similar to what Germany did after World War II, albeit with less sinister motives. Now, how about you?”
“I spent the morning getting them to see reason and was hoping you would back me up, but it appears I’m on my own.”
“You want the transfer program to happen?” Kingsley nodded. “Why?”
"Because of the Weasley boy.”
“What about Wendell?”
“Surely you’ve heard he’s been owling the Weasleys?” This time Hermione nodded. “His letters weren’t rejected, they were intercepted. After he sent a letter to Arthur at the Ministry, Arthur alerted Harry who told the owl to return to sender. Since then Harry had been monitoring young Wendell’s owls. It got to the point where he had to notify Draco. Apparently, in his last letter, he made some unsavoury remarks about Arthur and threatened to have Arthur arrested for aiding and abetting a fugitive.”
“Who?”
“Harry Potter.” Hermione was shocked at that revelation. Kingsley gave her a sympathetic look, “I know I was shocked myself, but while MACUSA and Ilvermorny’s history books show no reference to the War, their public reference system does or so believes Wendell. He read that Arthur harboured Harry Potter after he was caught using Morsmordre his fourth year. And he believes that Arthur as Head of House Weasley banished his grandson Ron to America because he tried to warn the Aurors. I believe—”
“Wait, he thinks Arthur is an Ancient and Noble House Lord and that Ron is his grandson?” Hermione interrupted.
“Indeed, because MACUSA’s system only lists a persons blood status, I assume when he saw that Arthur Weasley was a Pureblood he assumed that he was part of the Sacred 28, not knowing that the Weasleys have been blood traitors for generations.”
“I suppose that’s a reasonable assumption,” Hermione conceded, “but why does he think that Ron his a grandson and not a son, Arthur’s about the same age as Lucius.”
“That I’m not sure, but Draco seems to think that it is due to couples after the First Wizarding War having only one or two children.” Hermione nodded.
“I’m sorry to interrupt but you were saying?”
Kingsley smiled, “I believe that if we were to initiate the transfer program we can educate those like young Weasley, much like Hogwarts is doing for muggle-borns.”
“Hmm,” Hermione thought, “Can I assume because you’re coming to me you think that Wendell will take advantage of the transfer program?”
Kingsley rubbed the back of his neck, “Actually, if we institute the program young Weasley is barred from applying.”
That confused Hermione, who tilted her head slightly, “Oookay, but then I don’t understand, if he’s barred from the program how can we educate him?”
Kingsley shot her a significant look.
It dawned on Hermione, “Oh no, you want me to privately tutor, don’t you?”
Kingsley’s silence spoke volumes. The two stared at each other for what seemed like hours before Hermione finally broke the silence, “You want me to teach Ron’s son that everything his father believed in eventually caused his repatriation? Are you crazy?”
“Hermione…” Kingsley began.
Hermione gave the Minister for Magic a dirty look, “Don’t ‘Hermione’ me, Kingsley! If Ron didn’t act so nuts post-War he’d not only still be in Britain but he’d still have magic. He is the cause of this, everything is on him, you can’t expect me to give his son a chance just because the kid is clueless about what actually happened all those years ago. And that’s another thing, it’s been 13 years, Kingsley, I have a family now—a husband and fo-three kids—you can’t expect me to give the son of the man who is literally afraid of me a chance! What will others think?”
Kingsley sighed, “Draco was right… he said you wouldn’t go for this.” He stood and walked toward the door, “I’ll tell—“
“Wait, are you telling me that Draco spent an entire morning convincing you I wouldn’t do it and still you came to me?”
“I honestly thought he was being overly dramatic.”
Hermione sighed, “Where’s Draco right now?”
“When I left, he and Harry were still debating whether to install the program.”
Hermione took a deep breath, “Alright, Minister, here’s what I’m gonna do, I’m going to go see my husband and get his thoughts on this and then I will send you an owl with my final decision, does that sound fair?”
“Of course Headmistress, I expected nothing less. I should return to the Ministry.”
“I’ll see you soon Kingsley.”
Kingsley nodded and took his leave. After the Minister left, Hermione blew out a breath, she couldn’t believe the audacity of Kingsley… asking her to tutor Ron’s son to equip him with the knowledge that his father and even his own government wouldn’t oblige. As she tried to calm her emotions after her whirlwind back and forth, her floo sounded. She went to answer.
“Miss me?” Draco smirked.
Hermione rolled her eyes, “You’re quite forgettable actually,” she deadpanned.
Draco grinned. “So, Hestia was insistent I floo you after my meeting, can I assume that since you are alone that you just got done with Kingsley?”
Hermione nodded. “It’d be better if we talked in person though, come on through, Draco.”
“Of course Headmistress,” came his cocky reply. Seconds later he was through the flames and greeting his wife with a passionate embrace and kiss. When no one interrupted him he quipped, “I see you got rid of Severus and Dumbledore.”
Recovering from her husband’s enthusiastic greeting, Hermione chuckled, “Actually, he and Dumbledore are with Professor Binns lecturing about the war to Third Year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.”
“Only you could get Headmaster ghosts to be lecturers, I don’t remember Dumbledore ever asking any of the former Headmasters to teach a class. Granted he had a war to prepare for and the boy wonder to mentor.”
“Draco, are you ever going to be nice to Harry?”
“When am I not nice to the Man-Who-Never-Learned-To Use-A-Comb?” Draco faux protested, “He’s my son’s godfather.”
“One of…” Hermione began before quickly before she realised that this was probably not the time to reveal her pregnancy.
“What was that?” Draco caught Hermione's quick slip.
“Nothing.” Hermione dismissed quickly, “I was just going to say it would make my life better if you would try to be nicer to him. But back to the subject at hand, are you in favour or against the proposed transfer program, I know you and Harry both have reservations about it but Kingsley seemed to think you were against it and that was the tie-breaking vote. So which are you Draco?”
“Are you asking as my wife or as Headmistress of Hogwarts?”
“As your wife.”
“In that case, I’m totally against it and Kingsley’s ridiculous idea of barring Weasley’s spawn only to have you tutor the little bugger anyway. I spent the last two hours telling him that much. If I’m talking to the Headmistress, as a Hogwarts Governor, I believe it is in Hogwarts’ interest to explore additional venues to educate and inform and that includes implementation of the transfer program. However, again speaking as Lord Black and having a significant history, shall we say, with the one who is the root of all of this…anguish, I will fight with everything I have to bar its implementation. So I am against it personally and professionally as a lawmaker.”
Hermione chuckled at her husband’s thorough argument. “Heavy is the head that wears so many crowns.”
Draco grinned. “But you, love, lighten everything I have to bear.” He closed the distance between them and kissed her again.
“Flattery doesn’t work on me anymore,” she whispered when they broke.
“I beg to differ. You’re quite flushed.”
Hermione couldn’t deny that. This was probably as good a time as any to drop her bombshell. When she told Draco she was pregnant with Scorpius it was immediately after he had passed the “Hogwarts Revitalisation Act” and that was after a thorough shag in his office. When she told him she was pregnant with the twins, it was after she had returned from a lunch with Ginny in which the other witch told her she told Harry she was pregnant after they shagged. Now with the stress of Ron and his son, her hormones were everywhere, and this was the perfect way to reveal her news because she could definitely use the stress relief.
“I’m flushed because of my hormones,” she took a breath, “I’m pregnant.”
One, two, three beats later and Draco was on her. He pulled out his wand, muttering a silencing spell and a repelling charm he’d been working on, on the portrait frames of Albus and Severus.
After it was over, Hermione was breathless and very much sated. “You’re welcome darling,” Draco smirked as he wrapped an arm around Hermione, both laying on top of her desk in the post-coital glow.
Hermione smacked his chest playfully, “I hate you.”
Draco laughed heartily. “So, after that what are you planning to do?” Draco asked with a suppressed smirk. His wife had always been vocal in the throes of pleasure but it’d been a while since she did what she did, so he was particularly proud of himself at the moment.
Taking in another breath, Hermione mumbled, “Gonna lay here with my Sex God of a husband then owl Kingsley ‘Thanks but no thanks’.”
Draco laughed again and kissed the top of her hair as Hermione sighed contentedly into her husband’s chest.