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Summary
"What's going on here?" Harry enquired, his tone jovial as he brushed soot from his Auror robes.
"Granger is being a petulant brat."
She spun on her heel to face Draco – where he had paused his pursuit at the top of the stairs – and poked out her tongue. The blond wizard's lips pulled up into a smirk, yet his eyes remained fixed on her as if she were prey. It was clear he was not done with her yet.
"And that's cause to call me home early?" Harry asked, drawing her attention back to him.
"No," Draco announced before lunging forward unexpectedly and wrapping one hand around Hermione's waist. She released a small yelp of surprise as he spun her, pulling her back against his front and holding her firmly in place. His hand shifted, fingers splayed out across her abdomen as he turned his gaze back to Harry. "Our wife is fertile."