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"Fu – F-Fuck."
The voice was sweet, angelic and unfortunately familiar. Pronouncing that small, and yet still vile four-letter word with an uncertain sigh, as if testing out that brand-new word rolling off his untrained tongue.
The first time Hermione heard it, she thought she was going crazy. Surely the stress of daily life was taking its toll on her psyche.
As a mother of a impressionable toddler (who was so similar to his father when seeking out trouble), working in the Ministry on a tight schedule (trying to pass more humane laws in favour to all the sentient creatures while fighting off the ancient bureaucracy of her work place), worrying over her auror husband when he was out on missions (so close to a full-moon night, no less) and being seven months pregnant to boot (and with the most terrible nausea she ever had in her life), it was understandable that the stress was getting to her head.
She laughed it off, placing a kiss on the top of Scorpius' head as he giggled and played with his toys whilst she continued to make dinner, quietly humming to herself a muggle tune she had picked up from the radio a few days prior. But the second time he said it (not even a full minute after the first bubbling pronunciation)... Then it was harder to blame on hallucinations or on the stress.
"Fuck! Fuck uck uck, momma!"
Her son – Her precious three-year-old baby boy was swearing like a sailor, right in front of her with his big, expressive grey eyes looking up to her and a wide smile that denounced the utmost innocence – an illusion quickly broken when he continued to babble on about his ‘ buggering toys ’ and his ‘ bloody momma ’.
Oh no.
She was having none of that. Her blood rushed to the her face, down to her neck as she abandoned the cooking pans and knelt next to her giggling son. “Where did you learn this word, my duckling?” She asked in a gentle, but firm tone as she played with his blond locks of not-quite-curly hair.
“No telling!” He shook his head with an expression so mischievous, she almost reconsidered calling him a little angel before. “I pwomised not to tell!”
“Are you sure you can’t you tell me?” She tried again with the most innocent of the smiles, even though her mind was reeling in the background as she tried to list all the potential culprits that taught Scorpius all of those bloody swear words.
Theo and Pansy were the first ones she thought of, for obvious reasons – With their hedonistic way of life and lack of decorum in the best of days, it wouldn’t be surprising if they didn’t censor themselves whenever they visited the Malfoy household. But then again… The couple had been away in the Bahamas for a month-long romantic getaway and it had been a while since they offered to babysit Scorpius for the night. And her son's newest colorful vocabulary seemed to be a more recent development, more likely than not.
So the Nott couple were out.
Then there was Blaise – The charming, easy-going businessman that liked to meet Draco every now and again for a couple of pints in the nearby pub and like his friends, he wasn't one to shy away from crude wording when he was hanging out with her husband. It wouldn’t be impossible for her son to pick up a word or two from him if he were to be in the same room as him. Except that Blaise, as wonderful as he was, didn't feel entirely comfortable around young babies at all and he seemed to avoid them like one would avoid the plague.
No, it couldn’t have been Blaise either.
She then considered the Potters and the Weasleys next. While Harry was always a tad too careful and even protective of all the kids in his life, his wife and her brothers were still a rambunctious bunch (even more so now that their kids were growing up and getting into more and more trouble by the day). But although they were all very much chaotic in their own right, the family was hardly ever this careless around the youngsters.
Not to mention that if Scorpius had picked those words at the Burrow, she was sure James or the other kids would also be swearing – And she was sure that Ginny would have told her if any of them ever started cussing out bad words (not to mention that she would've also murdered whoever taught the kids how to swear on the spot, of course).
Which only left one more option for her to think about – The most likely guilty party of this whole debacle.
“Come on, Scorp," she tried to coax him again, just to confirm her suspicions. "You know you can tell me. I can even give you a little treat if you’re a good boy!”
“I am a good boy!” Her son beamed as he clutched his toys. “A bloody good one!”
“Good boys don’t use those types of words, duckling. They are bad words,” she hid her grimace with a smile as he used one of those words again, and rubbed her growing belly in a silent prayer that the next one wouldn’t give her half as much trouble as this one seemed to come up with day after day. “And good boys tell their mums the truth.”
“Daddy said it!” He finally conceded as soon as he saw his mother fishing out a box of strawberries from the fridge, coupled with a jar of honey. It probably wasn’t the best option of bribery when he still needed to eat his dinner, but it certainly was an effective way to get the truth out of him. After biting down two of the strawberries and licking his fingers, her son continued. “But he telled me to keep hush-hush.”
“He told you that?” She raised a brow at her son, tapping her foot on the floor in irritation.
“Yes! I’m going to get a new broom if I do!”
Merlin, she was going to kill her husband when he got home. And make it a very slow and painful death.
Taking her wand in hand, she conjured up her trusty Patronus so that she could deliver her message through gritted teeth. "Draco, if you value your life, you better come home right now."
A sensible side of her mind pointed out that this was probably an overreaction on her part, as she watched her bubbly silvery-blue otter fly out of the window at a rapid pace. Under different circumstances, she’d probably even find it a little funny or amusing (though she would still correct her son about avoiding using these words in polite company).
That being said, Hermione was seven months pregnant and the hormones were getting to her head more than they did on her first pregnancy. So really, could anyone blame her for the ultimatum?
She hadn't had the time to ponder about it any further, as her husband burst out of the fireplace in a flurry of green flames, looking rather panicked and disheveled.
“Is everything alright?” Draco asked before she even tried to say anything as a greeting. In a few strides, he was by her feet, checking out if she had any injuries to herself while Scorpius toddled over to his side with a couple of happy squeals. “Are you alright? And Scorpius? And Little Dipper?”
“Everything is alright, you fleabag,” she was quick to reassure him, even though she was still miffed by the fact that their son now had a nefarious vocabulary because of him. And as an afterthought, she added. “And we’re not calling our daughter Little Dipper.”
“I’m sure I’ll get to convince you in the next two months,” he shrugged with a smirk after he realized that his family wasn’t in immediate danger. But seeing as she was now glaring at him, he raised a brow. “Okay, but – Why did you call me again? I thought there was an emergency!”
“Fuck – Uck uck uck!” Scorpius happily cheered on, jumping up and down until Draco hauled him up his arms.
“Oh Shite – Erh – I mean… Oh dear.”
“Shhhh – Shite!” Scorpius parroted immediately and if looks could kill, she was sure her husband would’ve dropped dead that very second.
“You see now why I told you to come home?”
“Bloody hell – I mean! Damn it! This is awful!”
“Draco, please shut up.”
“Right,” he coughed awkwardly, trying to drown out Scorpius’ happy babbling that Scorpius as he started to improvise a song using all the swear words he learned in the span of a minute. “I’m… Sorry about that.”
“I just can’t believe I married the man with the most colorful vocabulary known to wizardkind!” She shook her head with a groan, but couldn’t quite stop a smile from forming when she watched just how tenderly her husband held their son close to him.
“Well, you knew that when you married me, my lioness,” he suddenly laughed, dropping a kiss to her temple and setting their son back on the ground. “And it’s not like it’s the end of the world! We just need to teach the little sprog not to say it whenever he pleases!”
“Sure,” she scoffed. “Because that worked wonderfully for you – What’s with buying his silence with a promise of a new broom.”
“Well, at least I tried,” he groaned, though there was an amused smile to his lips. After talking for a minute and reassuring Scorpius that he would go back home soon, he walked back to the floo and got a handful of the powder. “I need to go back to the Ministry – Your Patronus caused a bit of a stir at the Auror Office. Potter threatened to sack me if I didn’t go back running to see if you were alright!”
“As you should!" She huffed, crossing her arms. "This isn’t over, by the way. Don’t expect that you’ll get out of this so lightly, mister!”
------
Not even a day later, his wife appeared in their living room with a triumphant smile as she waved a large, empty glass jar in her petite hands.
“What’s this?” Draco lifted a brow, taking the jar to his hands and trying to inspect it with his eyes – There was nothing particularly noteworthy about it to warrant a smile so smug coming from her. It was just some random muggle mason jar. Interestingly, his name was written on the glass, in big, bold letters and a rough dragon shape next to it that he could only imagine was drawn by his son.
“This, dear Fleabag,” she purred, placing it on top of their posh dinner table, right next to the tacky Yule ornaments that his mother gifted them just last winter. “Is your newest Swear Jar.”
“And what in Salazar’s ballsack is a ‘swear jar’ supposed to be?” He frowned right after he greeted her with his usual kiss to the top of her head.
“If you used a little bit of your brain you’d be able to figure out,” she laughed, taking her wand and summoning a shiny galleon out of his pocket to place it inside the blasted thing. “Whenever you cuss, no matter the reason, you’re going to place a galleon in the jar.”
“A whole bloody galleon?” He scoffed, just as his wife pulled another golden coin out of his auror robes. Bollocks, this was going to be impossible! “Our vaults won’t last even a month!”
“Maybe this will make you think twice about what you say next to our very young son ,” she laughed, just as their little sprog ran up to them to show his newest drawing (or more accurately, paint blotches dropped on a piece of parchment) while also being completely covered head-to-toe in green paint.
Thankfully, Scorpius had dropped the use of swear words after a very long talk with his parents about how different words carried different meanings and how some words shouldn't be used in conversations. Still, it was clear that it wasn’t enough for his wife, given how she came up with this new… Solution.
“And what about you?” He muttered, after carefully considering his words. Merlin knew how he didn’t want to pay up yet another galleon for his wife, who looked entirely too amused by his newest conundrum. “Face it, Granger – You also have your own moments. Don’t pretend for a second that motherhood made you a saint, either!”
“I have no idea what you mean,” she blinked with a playful smirk on her lips.
His eyes darkened in a second as he stepped closer to her with a hand tugging at her loose curls as he continued with a croak. “I can think of a situation or two in which your pretty little mouth let out just about the naughtiest words. If I have to pay up every time I let something slip out, so should you.”
She grinned, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him away with a subtle nod towards the happy toddler right at their feet. Bugger, now wouldn’t be the time to try any advances towards her.
“I quite agree,” Hermione continued, producing another jar out of thin air – much similar to the one at their dinner table, except for the fact that this one had her name (and a picture of a cute otter plastered on the side) written on the glass and a noticeable lack of galleons. “Which is why I have a jar of my own!”
Oh? Knowing his wife, this was bound to get interesting.
“You want to make this a game, then?”
“The first one to fill the jar up is the loser and will have to pay up for a date. And the winner gets bragging rights, of course.”
“I’m in,” he smirked, kneeling down to the floor to press a kiss to his son’s head while he giggled and talked about his day.
The prize wasn’t really something that they needed to make a big deal out of it – they were both fairly well off with their jobs at the Ministry and him being the Head of the Malfoy family made it very easy to splurge on a fancy date night every week or so, but he knew the true intentions behind her newest proposal.
This was a competition. She was actively challenging him and his abilities to measure his words.
Ha! Jokes on her! There was nothing that made him more determined than a good old contest.
And though he loved his wife very much (just as he knew that she loved him just as much), she was still his greatest rival – ever since they were kids and they would probably still be until they were old and grey. Sure, he may not have upped her back then, when he tried his hardest to be the top of the class.
But now? How could she possibly think that he wouldn't be able to bite his tongue and hold back on the cussing? Silly witch must have forgotten that he lived under the same roof as a man that wouldn’t have hesitated even for a second to kill him if he said the wrong thing at the wrong time!
Measuring his words in front of his family would be the easiest thing he’d ever do in his life.
And it wasn’t as if he swore a whole lot anyway. While yes, he did say his fair share of profanities every now and again (and considering that he was an Auror and a werewolf, could anyone really blame him?) he was nowhere near as bad as some of his coworkers and friends.
She was just blowing this way out of proportion just because Scorp thought that it would be funny to start parroting him all of the sudden, and he was sure that she’d soon forget all about the jars once their child stopped trying to rhyme songs about firetrucks with a particular words that also ended with ‘uck’ .
“Wonderful! You just have to be careful from now on, seeing as you already have two galleons in your jar, love,” she teased, taking their paint-covered son up in her arms and directing herself towards the bathrooms to clean him up.
“Can’t wait to see your face when you eventually lose, my lioness.”
There was no way he was going to fuck this up. (And Gods, how he was glad that she never went out of her way to learn the basics of Legilimancy, or else he would’ve been fucked .)
------
They all got together on a Sunday afternoon at Blaise's Manor by the Italian seaside to catch up with their friends in a pleasant affair, with a side of red wine for Draco, Blaise, Daphne and Astoria and sweet grape juice for Hermione. Scorpius was out on a playdate with James and Albus for the day.
The youngest Greengrass sister was just about starting to tell them about her new adventures in Healer School, when suddenly a loud crack of apparition echoed in the air – Arriving with their usual flourish of dramatics, the Nott couple made their presence known by dropping into Blaise's drawing room in a puff of red smoke and loud shouts to catch all of the attention they could get.
"And we’re back!" Pansy chirped, swirling on the floor in her bright-coloured gown adorned in flowers and feathers. "Now, where's our favourite feisty witch and the surly, slobbering werewolf attached to her bosom?"
A twinge of irritation crept up to the edge of his tongue as he watched Pansy draping herself over his wife’s seat while she merely laughed at the way their daughter started kicking like crazy once she supposedly heard her godmother’s voice.
"Oh," Draco choked on the wine, gritting his teeth as he continued. "Hey… Guys, welcome back."
Both of them turned to look at him with months agape and raised brows, as if something unimaginable had just happened. "Welcome back?” Theo scoffed as he glared at him as if he had grown a second head. “That's all you have to say?"
"Well, what's wrong with that?"
"Where's the usual ' hello arseholes, here to give me another bloody headache?’ Or some other snarky remark you're usually so fond of?"
“We even called you a slobbering werewolf!”
Draco pursed his lips in discontentment, while the others (including his lovely wife) laughed and eyed him with expectant gazes, waiting for what he had to say. "No snarky remarks for today, I'm afraid," he shrugged, filling his glass up to the brim after the Nott couple gasped in unison.
“That’s impossible!” Pansy scoffed, looking up at Hermione from her perch in her lap."Did something happen while we were gone?"
"Yes –" Blaise chuckled in turn. "Those two started a bet of some sorts. Draco can't swear anymore or else he'll have to pay a galleon to the Swear Jar."
"Swear jar?"
In a second, Hermione fished the blasted little thing out of her trusty beaded bag, shaking it up and down so that the galleons inside it tinkled in a way that grated his ears. To make matters worse, she also pulled out her own bloody jar – still completely empty as a reminder that, no matter how hard he tried, it was impossible to make his stubborn wife to swear when she set her mind to not doing it.
"This is just to make sure we both watch our mouths now that we have kids," she started in a sing-song voice while he rolled his eyes at the way she looked so pointedly at him. "Once it fills up, the loser will have to pay up. By my estimates, it'll be full with one hundred galleons."
"But he has so many galleons already!" Theo mused, taking his jar and testing the weight of it in his hands.
"Forty-seven, to be exact."
He groaned and sank into the armchair at the reminder. It had been a rough couple of weeks, okay?
Potter had given him Hell over that stupid Swear Jar, vowing to Hermione that he wouldn't let any cussing slide even when they were out there in the fields, catching bloody criminals day and night! (And who even held themselves back when they were dodging unforgivables left and right anyway?)
Then there was the time he went down to a pub with the Weasleys for a bit of winding down, but the more firewhiskey went down his throat, the more cussing was out of his mouth . And then bloody George – that goddamn ginger snake – was all too happy to jot down each swear word just so that he could watch his lioness taking away all of his money with a smirk.
And finally, there was the incident back in that wizarding village, where Roderick lived, where they all gathered together a big campfire, with the kids playing in the background while the adults had a bit of fun telling ghost stories just for the fun of it. He had been jumpy all week after that, scared of his own bloody shadow because of some tales some people had sworn to be true. And yes, he might have cursed for a good half-an-hour or so when Scorpius had decided to scare him during a shower
So no, maybe keeping swear words out of his lexicon wasn't the easiest of the tasks. But then again, he never claimed to be the most polite wizard out there anyway!
Pansy and Theo shared a look that Draco particularly dreaded – A mischievous and familiar grin that always promised trouble whenever it appeared in their expressions.
"So, how was the Bahamas?" Daphne asked in a sudden change of subject and their shared smirk only grew wider.
Buggering hell, they were up to something.
"Incredible! A true paradise! We should definitely bring Granger with us next time."
A growl bubbled out of his throat as he watched Pansy playing with Hermione’s curls as she purred out something about how she was ‘ looking forward to skinny dipping with the other witch ’. The wolf inside him growled and barked even louder inside his head as he glared at the couple.
Hermione was his mate. Not theirs! And Hell would freeze over before he allowed them to just have these… Depraved fantasies about her!
"Yes!” Theo clicked his tongue, taking a bottle of wine directly to his lips as he goaded his wife on. “Just imagine her laying down on that massive bed! With us on each side, of course."
Oh no. The beast inside him continued, getting restless with each sinful giggle that echoed around the room. They have no right to imagine her that way! Not even as a joke!
Mercurial eyes darkened in a murderous glare as Hermione merely rolled hers and lifted herself from her seat to settle next to him – with his arms circling her waist as soon as she got close enough to him. Her scent calmed him a little, as he signed into her hair and the wolf inside him relaxed.
His lioness was right there – in his arms and drawing circles in the exposed skin of his wrist to calm him down. They loved each other and he trusted Hermione completely, no matter how many ill-fated jokes their friends might make, it was obvious that she would never run off with them to the Bahamas for a naughty get-away. And he was well aware of what the Nott couple was doing, of course. Not even a full minute passed since they learned about that stupid bet and they were already trying to make him mad just for shits and giggles.
Well… It wouldn’t work. Draco had too much self-respect to let himself be taunted by those two braindead troublemakers.
"And imagine her basking in the sunlight!” Pansy hummed as Theo joined her in the armchair that used to be occupied by Hermione. “With the baby bump, it'd be hard to say who glows brighter – the sun, or Granger!"
“Maybe we should bring her to a babymoon with us,” Theo chuckled, winking at Hermione from the other side of the room.
How dare they? This was his baby! His pup!
"Will you two wankers shut the fuck up?!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, unable to resist any longer.
Everyone in the room turned to look at him with a raised brow and knowing smiles, while Theo shook the bleeding Swear Jar up and down with an expression that could rival that of a kid on Christmas Eve.
"That's two more galleons from you, Fleabag," his wife sighed in his lap, accio’ing the jar and placing two more coins inside it.
"Fuck!"
------
“Daddy, I want to fly!” Scorpius begged his father, tugging at the hem of his shirt and pouting as Draco tried his best to find the damn cherry tomatoes in those endless aisles of the supermarket. “I want a new broom!”
“Not now, Scorp,” he tried to keep his voice low, while he took a jar of raspberry jam from the highest shelf and chucked it to the shopping cart. “We can’t talk about flying right now. Remember the rules?”
“No talks of magic in mug – Muggle places,” he looked up to his father, with his brilliant grey eyes glinting with a small frown plastered in his face.
“Exactly. And good boys follow rules, right?”
“Good boys don’t swear. But you do!”
Good Godric! What did he do to deserve a child snarkier than he was?
“Excuse me? I don’t swear, Scorpius. And you better stop with this sass or else we won’t be flying at all, mister!”
“But daddy! I want to fly!”
“We can fly later,” he shrugged, straightening out his back in hopes that this would make his son see who’s in charge around here.
“In my own broom?”
“Scorpius –”
“I found the tomatoes!” Hermione’s voice cut right through his chiding as she brandished the container in her hands. “So that’s everything. I’m sure we can go back home now.”
Thank the gods.
Though he was perfectly comfortable in the muggle world nowadays, Draco still hated having to spend so much time in crowded – and often loud – places. And unfortunately, it seemed like muggle malls and supermarkets were always packed with people all the bloody time .
So it was an understatement to say that he was glad to finally return home so that he could relax on his large sofa, cuddled up in his pregnant wife’s lap. Maybe, after a good nap he’d even take Scorpius to a long spin in his broom… Hell, he might even let the kid take control of it for a few minutes (with all the safety charms put in place, obviously), just to see the bright smile and hear the uncontrollable giggling of his son.
Yes, it would be a perfect way to end his day.
“Draco,” Hermione’s voice broke him from his musings, as she looked around frantically. “Where’s Scorpius?”
His heart sank down to his stomach as he looked down. The place his son used to be was now completely empty – not even a spectre of his pale-blond hair could be seen.
Oh Sweet Morgana 's tits! How could this have happened?! He had only taken his eyes off of him for three seconds at most!
He panicked, going paler than a ghost.
In a sharp pace that almost rivaled his frenzied heartbeat, he immediately ran around the market in search of his son, shouting his name and asking every muggle that dared to look at him if they had seen Scorpius. (And other than the fact that people were puzzled over his unusual name, no one seemed to take notice of any kids walking around unattended).
He felt the air getting thinner around him as he stepped outside the supermarket, looking inside the shop windows, hoping to spot his lost child in any of them – to no avail. In the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione talking to a police officer, wildly gesturing with her arms in an attempt to describe what happened.
My boy is gone.
Oh gods, what if he was kidnapped? What am I supposed to say to Hermione? How could I possibly live with the guilt of knowing it’s all my fault?
“Daddy!”
Faster than lighting, he snapped his head towards the direction of his son’s voice. Was his mind playing tricks? Or did Scorpius just say something, off in the distance?
“Daddy! Over here!”
There. In the distance – perched on top of a random shop’s ledge was his precious, careless and incredibly daft son. Merlin knew how he managed to cover so much distance and climb the buggering shop walls in less than three minutes since his parents had lost him, but then again, Draco was just glad to have found him at all (safe and sound, even!).
“I’m flying daddy! Scorpius giggled, waving his arms as if he was a bird and his fathers instincts (or perhaps the wolf inside of him?) kicked in immediately as he leaped in the kid’s direction with his arms out, catching him just as he was about to drop face first into the ground.
“Scorpius!” He sighed, hugging his son closer to his chest and trying his hardest to stop the tears of relief from falling out of his eyes as he sank to his knees in the middle of a busy shopping street while Hermione ran towards them both with a barrage of tears of her own.
“Holy shite,” he couldn’t help but let the curse escape from his lips as he kissed his son’s bubbly cheeks. “You almost gave me a goddamn heart attack!”
“Daddy!” His precious little imp laughed as he enjoyed a couple of kisses from his mother, who quickly caught up to them. “You just said bad words!”
As if he gave a fuck if he’d have to pay a galleon or two to the jar. His son was safe, that was all he cared about!
“Right –” he scoffed, shaking his head as he got to his feet, with Scorpius still tightly in his arms. (Because there was no way in hell that he would be letting him go now). “I’ll pay up when we get home.”
------
Full moon nights were always the worst to him. One would think that after years of this same old routine, he’d get used to the pain, but it only seemed to grow stronger the older he got.
There was that unbearable pounding in his head that never seemed to really go away, even when he wasn’t about to transform. His bones ached more than they ever did in anticipation for the transformation, and his muscles always seemed to cramp up the longer he spent pacing around the basement like a caged animal. (And in a way, he supposed that he was one. At least for a couple of hours each month).
"Are you holding up alright?" A sweet voice called for him as Hermione entered his dark domain with a steaming cuppa and a meat pie for him.
"Yes, lioness," he grunted, taking down the pie in only a couple of bites and gulping down the tea in a second.
"I've already brewed the Pepper-Up for tomorrow morning," she nodded, taking back the plate and empty cup. "And I dropped off Scorpius at the Notts.'
"Good – Thank you," he grunted out, hissing in pain when his ribs let out a sharp contraction. "Now you should be going somewhere else too – The moon will be up soon and I don’t want you anywhere near a fuc – A… Big, bad werewolf.”
The seven doses of wolfsbane only did so much to help him keep his sanity as a wolf, but even then he was always terrified of something going wrong and him suddenly snapping and hurting his mate or pups. "I'm not scared of you. I trust you," she sighed, daring to hug him and press a kiss to his jaw even though he had just asked her to back off.
What a buggering stubborn woman!
“I heard that!” She nudged his aching ribs with a raised brow and a teasing smirk.
Shite. Did he say that out loud?
“You did,” she laughed, kissing his forehead while he bit down on his bottom lip to stop himself from saying anything else. In a last attempt to calm himself off, he placed a hand to her growing belly. “I’ll go ahead and get your galleons for the jar.”
“What? You can’t be serious!”
“Why not? A swear is a swear – And you should probably be careful now. We’re at Ninety-eight galleons already! Two more and I’ll be winning our little game!”
“Granger!” He hissed through his teeth as he curled down in pain of another contraction. The moon was probably already rising in the horizon, given how stronger the pains were getting. “I’m about to turn into a werewolf ! How can you possibly expect me to hold back!?”
“A bet is a bet, love! We agreed on the rules a month back!”
Fuck me!
“ Ninety-nine galleons now,” she chirped with the most melodic and taunting laugh an angel could possibly make. He felt her soft hands squeezing his bicep one last time as she promised to see him in the morning before she waddled away, up the staircase and locking the charmed basement door.
Not even a minute later, he transformed with a howl so powerful, he could almost swear that it should’ve counted as a curse in of itself.
------
They were all sitting on the couch when she arrived – Hermione had been lazily dozing off to the sounds of Poppeye playing in the background while Scorp was nestled in his arms, squealing in excitement every time the character in the television did anything remarkable.
The soft sunlight bled through the windows, reflecting back on the gold galleons that sat inside his Swear Jar making a beautiful pattern of golden light in the table beneath it – so very different from his wife’s perfectly empty glass jar. It was a bit frustrating to know that he tried his hardest to yank a tiny little curse out of her, unsuccessfully. No amount of banter, nor teasing, nor torture in the bedroom seemed to be enough to make her strong-willed lioness falter. Not even once.
Still, it had been two weeks since the last full moon, and he hadn’t even breathed a cuss word out since then (in fact, he hadn’t even thought about any swear words, just to be safe), which was quite an accomplishment for him, if he could say so.
Draco smiled to himself, looking at his wife’s peaceful expression as she sighed in contentment, cracking one eye open to check on him and their child. He was just about to suggest starting on a brunch for all of them when there was a sudden yelp of pain coming from her, coupled with terrified wide amber eyes.
“What happened?” He asked her, holding back Scorpius so that he wouldn’t rush to her and maybe cause her more pain.
“I think that – Ah! –'' she tried to say as she rose from the sofa, clutching her protruding abdomen. “Bloody hell! Draco – I think she’s coming!”
“What?” He blinked at her, panic rising with each gasp of pain that his mate let out as her face contorted to a grimace. "Who's coming?”
“Your daughter, you twat ! Who else?”
Oh. Oh Gods.
Logically, he knew this was going to happen sooner or later – and this wasn’t even the first time he saw his wife nine-months pregnant. But he hadn’t been human when she went into labour with Scorpius and he never really got to learn what should be done in situations like these.
Well… He did know that he wasn’t supposed to be panicking.
And he also knew that he shouldn’t, under any circumstances, pass out (suck it, Blaise!).
"Draco! Are you just going to – Ouch! – Stand there?"
"Right! Sorry! I'll be right back!" He took a slightly nervous Scorpius up to his arms and sent a Patronus to the Potters so that they could watch him for the day, while also running around the house like a headless chicken, grabbing everything they needed to make a trip to St. Mungos. All the while his wife sunk to the couch in pain of each contraction, throwing dozens of curses while also trying to keep her breathing in check.
He was, of course, completely preoccupied with the impending birth of his precious daughter (the first female-born Malfoy in four generations! How strange and yet exhilarating this was for him!). But there was still a perk to his heightened sense of hearing that allowed him to count just how many cuss words she was letting out as he busied himself with other things.
He would probably only mention them afte r everything was over and the dust had settled, though. He didn't fancy his children becoming orphans just because he decided to crack a stupid joke while his poor wife was in the middle of gettting through childbirth.
In less than a minute, Potter showed up via floo with an excited smile that faltered just as Hermione shouted about something or someone ' fucking taking for- fucking -ever to show up'.
Yikes. She was really stressed out, wasn’t she? Stupid question, he knew.
"I've got everything!" Draco announced, placing a hand to her lower back as she slowly waddled to the floo, with a string of curses melting into an unintelligible mess.
"Good luck, Pooch! You’ll need it," Potter had the gall to laugh while he and his wife glared at that idiot, just as the green fire consumed them both.
If they weren’t in such a hurry, they would’ve probably shouted long enough to easily fill fifty other jars.
------
Five and a half hours later, he finally heard the happy cheers of the Healer and medi-witches congratulating the parents for their perfect baby girl, as she greeted the world with her powerful wailing, being placed in her mother’s bosom not even a minute after she was born.
Carina Eurybia Malfoy.
(He didn’t quite get to convince her to name their child Little Dipper, but he supposed that the alternative was still a fitting name for their daughter).
It had been life-changing to watch her being born, to get to be by his wife’s side all the way through her labour (in a way that made him mourn the fact that he hadn’t got to do the same with Scorpius because of the awful full moon and his rotten luck). This opportunity was especially enlightening for him as he witnessed just how strong and brilliant his wife truly was.
Hermione herself looked as if she was glowing – Even with her skin all flushed and sweaty, and her luscious curls looking wilder than a chimera’s mane and tears freely falling from her eyes as she smiled lovingly at her daughter. He approached the bed and kissed his wife’s forehead tenderly as she sighed into his touch.
“She’s got grey eyes just like you – And pale blond hair,” she finally whispered after an eternity of silence just cooing at their newborn. “It’s almost unfair how much our children look like you and nothing like me.”
“That’s not true,” he chuckled, wiping a few tears that brimmed his eyes as he did so. “Scorpius got your smile and your nose, my lioness. Not to mention your intelligence, your heart and courage, my lioness – There’s plenty of you in him,” he brushed some stray hairs that clung to her face and kissed her again, dropping a hand down to his beautiful daughter so that she could grasp his pinky finger.
Gods, she was so tiny. And so beautiful. Just like her mother.
“And this little one – I can already see that she’s going to be quite a handful, just like you are. Let’s just pray she doesn’t have as much of a potty mouth as you do.”
“What?” His mate glared with a snort escaping her nose as she held back a laugh. “What do you mean, Fleabag? May I remind you of the Swear Jars back at home?”
“Well –” A smirk crept up to the corner of his lips as he clicked his tongue. “I may have counted one hundred and three cuss words coming from you in these few hours you know? Enough to fill up an entire Swear Jar and outdo my negligible ninety-nine swears.”
"Oh,” she rolled her eyes, hiding her smile by kissing the top of Carina’s head. “Bugger off, will you?"