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The space beside him was cold and empty when Draco woke.
It wasn’t too much of a surprise considering how fitful his wife’s sleep had been the night before, but he had at least expected her to be in the room—over the years she’d developed a habit of sitting at the windowsill first thing in the morning, with a cup of coffee; eyes flicking between him the sunrise and a stack of ministry documents—but this morning, she was nowhere in sight.
He slipped from the bed tugging on a pair of pyjama bottoms as he crossed the bedroom and crept down the stairs to the second floor.
Even as a child he’d known he didn’t want to live with his parents as an adult, regardless of the fact he’d have his own wing. And when he started seeing Hermione, and their relationship progressed beyond mindless fucking in the Head dormitories and then their offices on the occasional afternoon, he knew he’d never be able to live with her there either.
It had been an easy decision to purchase a townhouse in the centre of London and when Hermione had agreed to move in with him, not even a year later it had simply made sense for them to live and make their home there.
He stepped quietly along the hardwood floor until he came to a stop outside their daughter’s room. Peeking in, he saw Hermione curled up on Lyra’s bed, one of Scorpius’ pillows tucked beneath her arms.
“This is the first time they’ve ever spent their birthday away from us,” Hermione said when Draco had scooted onto the bed behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
His fingers wound between hers and he pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck.
“They’re fine,” he said, reassuring her with a squeeze. “They’ll get their owls in a few hours, read their letters, open their presents and know that we love and miss them everyday.”
Hermione turned in his arms and Draco clicked his tongue at the tears streaming down her cheeks.
“They’re ok,” he said, wiping her cheeks with his thumbs. “You need to relax”—he pressed his hands to her stomach and let his magic drift across the barely noticeable swell of her growing bump—“You know the doctor told you that stress isn’t good for the baby.”
Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed but when she tilted her head up and pressed a kiss to Draco’s lips, he knew she wasn’t really annoyed at him. When she moved her hands up his bare chest and wrapped them round his neck though, he pulled back and clambered off the bed, smirking at the agitated look she threw him in return.
He moved towards the door and jerked his head towards the ceiling, towards their floor. “I’m not fucking you on a single bed, Granger,” he said. “Our Hogwarts days are long over.”
He bit back a grin when he heard her grumbling but following after him.