Work Text:
Draco ambled into his lab, stretching his arms high above him to work out the kinks that came with a long night’s sleep. Before him, he saw a head of wild, bushy hair bent over his workbench and smiled. His witch did love to work at the most unreasonable hours. His long legs ate up the remaining distance and he wrapped his arms around his witch’s waist, his fingers trailing over her hips and middle as he pulled her back against him.
“Draco…” Hermione murmured. Something in her voice made Draco freeze, his heartbeat picking up. “Take a look at this.” He leaned forward to peer over her shoulder at the potion bottle in her hand; it shimmered softly, blue and pink swirling around each other. He blinked again, his brain refusing to put the pieces together.
“What is that potion, Mia?” He asked, his voice suddenly hoarse. He could feel Hermione trembling slightly in his arms as she turned to face him, eyes full of anticipation and worry.
“Dray, it’s a pregnancy indicator potion.” She said softly, searching his face. He was blank though, mind racing but no one emotion coming to the forefront.
“Something’s wrong with the potion.” He said woodenly. “Has to be. I… I can’t…” Hermione reached up to cup his cheek gently, her eyes soft with sympathy and adoration.
“Draco, there’s nothing wrong with the potion and you know it. You’re going to be a father.”
Draco took a step back, pulling his arms from around her, bringing them up to cover his head as panic began to set in. Then, he finally looked back up at his witch. She glowed with a barely concealed excitement, slightly dimmed by evident worry. Worry that he wouldn’t accept the situation? That he’d leave? Or for his own mental state? Draco took a deep breath, counted to five, then started a list. Of all the ways he was not, and never would be, like his own father.
“I’m going to be a dad.”