Work Text:
Hermione wasn’t sure how long she lay in their bed staring at the canopy above.
She must’ve counted every embroidered stitch and thread on the fabric before they had begun to blur in the light glow of the moonlight outside. She felt the tiredness threatening to override her senses, and no matter how much she begged for the wave of exhaustion to drag her under, something - or more like someone - was preventing her.
Hermione’s eyes flew open with a frustrated sigh after yet another disastrous attempt to fall asleep, her arm coming up to hug the extra weight of her belly. Lyra was driving her crazy tonight. Or was it already morning? She couldn’t be sure seeing as her daughter’s limbs constantly striking her from within were all she could focus on.
Lyra was… energetic ….for lack of a better word.
She had a tendency to consistently do these borderline combative acrobatic routines in her mother’s stomach no matter the time of day. She had been extremely active ever since Hermione had been able to feel her first flutters nearly 5 months ago. Harry had once tried to joke that her daughter had inherited Hermione’s own penchant for restlessness, and in a bit of hormone induced rage, she had sent him home with a particularly nasty bat bogey hex. It hasn’t been one of her finest moments, but after enduring hours of her daughter’s sharp jabs, she hadn’t been in the best of moods.
It was a point of contention for her son, as well. Whenever she joined Scorpius for his naps, her daughter tended to have one of her kicking fits. He would stare reproachfully at her swollen midsection with a scowl eerily similar to his father’s, and if she didn’t find it absolutely adorable, she would have joined in.
Lyra was very different from her older brother in that regard. While Scorpius’ kicks had felt more like gentle taps, Lyra’s were harsh and unyielding. Although, unfortunately for Hermione, both her children were early risers. For that, she wholeheartedly blamed their father. She frowned to herself at the thought of being outnumbered by three obnoxious morning people and chose to ignore that idea for now.
Lyra made yet another pronounced kick to her kidney that has Hermione attempting to rub the spot in a poor attempt to ease her movements. Despite her mother’s distraction method, Lyra continued to use her mother’s insides as her own personal punching bag. She suddenly realized all those old wives tales of clashing between mothers and daughters may be true after all.
Hermione allowed her mind to wander over to the bassinet beside her. While empty, it already contained a select variety of everything their daughter could possibly need to make her feel comfortable. She found her hand running against the blanket that lay at the very top of the bassinet. It had been a gift from Theo and Luna, one Luna had knit herself. When the couple had presented the blanket to her mere days after she had discovered she was pregnant, Hermione almost refused to take it. It was knit from the softest pink yarn Hermione had ever felt, with small stitchings of constellations in silver thread along the edges.
It had felt sacrilegious to accept something so precious, especially one that invited unwanted suspicions about their child’s gender before it was definite. She hadn't wanted to tempt fate, but Luna had simply given her a knowing look.
“She’ll be as beautiful as the stars she’s named for,” she had said.
Her husband gladly accepted it, insisting that it was a sign. Draco’s endless smugness in the aftermath of finding out they would indeed have a daughter had almost been too much to bear. But she hadn’t been able to hide her smile for long.
Hermione had yet to tell him, but she had secretly added a stitch to the bottom right corner of the blanket. She gently traced the silver threading of her daughter’s name, a habit she had picked up in the later stages of her pregnancy to soothe her rising anxiety. She had taken a bit longer this time around to come to terms with the little life she was growing given how sick she had been during her first trimester. It had gotten to the point where she could barely get off the bathroom floor without Draco’s help, and she had been startled by the heightened sense of fear she had felt in those early days.
To be honest, she was still wrapping her mind around the fact that three would soon be four . Her daughter’s current excitement was making it hard to forget. She let out an irritated huff as Lyra stuck what felt like the sharp edge of her elbow into her diaphragm robbing her of her breath.
“You’re determined to keep me up tonight, aren’t you,” Hermione sighed, rubbing her hand over the spot. “I can only hope you’ll be somewhat calmer once you join us outside. I won’t be able to keep up with you otherwise.”
So caught up in her thoughts that she almost didn’t notice how Lyra had seemed to settle. Hermione inhaled sharply in excitement, a solution coming to mind.
“Do you like it when I speak to you?” she asked tentatively.
The jabs had tapered out to softer taps now as if her daughter were listening. Hermione curled in on herself, drawing the blankets tighter.
“I would appreciate it if you didn’t kick me all the time, darling,” she continued softly. “I haven’t forgotten you’re in there.”
Another softer tap came in response, and she moved her fingers accordingly, tapping back to assure her daughter she saw her.
“You’ll be a troublemaker won’t you? Your Uncle Theo will love that,” Hermione grinned. “As your godfather, he’ll probably take it upon himself to corrupt you as early as possible. Which is why it’s a good thing that your Aunt Luna will be there to stop him.”
She paused.
“Well, to some extent,” she amended. “Your godparents can be a bit…extravagant. But i’m not entirely worried. I’ve heard that second born children have a tendency to be a bit more difficult, and if anyone is up to the task, it’s definitely those two.”
Lyra didn’t seem to like the implication that she would be a difficult child if the swift kick to her kidney was any indication.
“That hurt, darling,” Hermione soothed. “I promise I didn’t mean anything by it. You might prove me wrong, but we won’t really know until you’re here.”
She felt a rush of excitement for what seemed like the first time at the mention of her daughter’s impending arrival. Lately, it seemed all she did was worry instead of allowing herself to feel any sort of joy. Acute pain laced through her heart at the lack of connection she had failed to establish with Lyra amidst her never-ending nerves.
“I’m sorry if mummy hasn’t paid much attention to you lately. You made your appearance very unforgettable when we first found out about you, and you gave us quite a scare,” Hermione whispered.
The lack of movement prompted her to continue.
“I’ve been so worried about you and about how to prepare for you that I haven’t been able to talk to you. That’s mummy’s fault. You’re my daughter, my baby . I promise I’ll do better,” she said. “Although you’ve probably heard enough of me talking already, what with all the work I've done lately and all the conversations with your brother and the late night activities with your dad…well, you probably don’t need to know about that last bit.”
Hermione stroked her belly absentmindedly as she lost herself in her thoughts.
“The point is, you already know so much about me, and I don’t know anything about you,” she murmured. “But I can’t wait to find out. I love you so much already, and I can’t wait to finally meet you.”
She was crying now, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care in the slightest. Light tapping drew her attention down to her stomach again.
You know,” Hermione said in a thick voice. “Your daddy picked your name. Lyra . You’ll be named for a constellation, like your brother and your father and so many others from his family. I’ll let him tell you the story, but I think he’s always held onto that name. There was a point in time when we were younger where he didn’t think he would ever get to use it…”
She trailed off, images of the war flashing involuntarily in her mind. She shivered before looking down to her stomach again.
“He’s always wanted a little girl to spoil. I have a feeling you’ll be a daddy’s girl instead of a mummy's girl. But I’m ok with that.”
Hermione looked to her side to see her husband fast asleep, his bare chest rising up and down in a steady rhythm. Draco had been working long nights at the DMLE lately trying to solve a case on rogue werewolves alongside Theo. Between balancing his tireless work as an auror with his duties to her and their children, he had been stumbling through the floo with a bone dead tiredness that had her watching him with a mixture of concern and appreciation. Her thoughts drifted off to Scorpius as she shifted back to lay on her back.
“I’m hoping your brother has gotten used to the idea of you,” Hermione said absentmindedly to her daughter. “Scorpius has such a big heart, and he’s already so smart and perceptive. He’s got this eagerness to learn about the world around him - I’ve never seen someone ask so many questions in one sitting - and he’s always so curious about you.”
She almost giggled remembering the instance just a few mornings ago when Scorpius had nonchalantly asked how Lyra had been made - causing Draco to spit out his coffee all over their kitchen table.
“I must warn you, darling,” she chuckled. “He’s a bit of a mummy’s boy - almost like your father was with your grandmother - so he may be a little attached to me when you finally get here. But I know he’ll love you with all his heart. He’s going to be the best big brother to you, just wait.”
Lyra had been moving around, albeit much softer, while she was speaking. Now, all was still.
Hermione lay extremely still as she waited for the pin to drop and her daughter to knock her around as she was prone to do. But the longer she waited, the more she hoped that maybe - just maybe - her endeavors to calm her daughter had been successful.
“Lyra?” she whispered hesitantly.
No answer.
She smiled triumphantly.
Finally.
She shifted ever so slightly further down into the bead, tugging on the sheets and settling into the warmth that beckoned her from beneath the covers. Exhaustion crept in, and she welcomed the soft lullaby of sleep that enveloped her as she succumbed to the darkness.
She had just begun to reach the ends of oblivion when a sharp jab to her ribs jerked her awake. So forceful was Lyra’s kick that she had Hermione shooting up in pain, leaving her trying to catch her breath. Frustration slowly crept through her veins as she clutched the blankets in a near death grip.
She was ten seconds away from absolutely losing it when her husband did the worst possible thing.
He snored.
In the 2 years of friendship, 2 years of subsequent dating, and nearly 5 years of marriage, she could name exactly 3 times Draco Malfoy had ever snored. Once when he had come home so exhausted trying to solve a complicated case, once when had almost passed out after suffering from a particularly nasty hex while on a raid, and once the first night they had brought Scorpius home from St. Mungo’s.
All three had seen him in a deep sleep.
The last thread of her sanity shriveled.
And Hermione snapped.
Anger unlike anything she had ever known enclosed her in a fiery grip. She reached behind her, grabbing her pillow and bringing it down upon her husband.
Hard.
So hard that Draco woke up gasping for breath, closing in around her pillow as he shot up in panic. Sparks burst from the overhead light fixture as Draco’s magic let out an involuntary spasm. He reached for his wand as his eyes spun around the room, wide and panicked as he searched for the encroaching danger. It wasn’t until he met her gaze and saw her clutching her pillow that he finally understood what had happened.
“What the bloody hell did you do that for?!”
Confusion warred with anger across his features as he took her in, trying to figure out when his wife had gotten so violent.
“Get your stubborn daughter to stop using me as her personal punching bag or by Merlin’s Beard, I will kill you! ”
“How am I supposed to do that?!”
“I don’t know! Do something! Anything! I’m uncomfortable and I’m tired and I’m large and I’m tired and I…I…I haven’t slept in days . She won’t let me sleep! I need sleep, Draco!”
She felt something wet drip down her face and was mortified to find that she was crying in the midst of her rant.
They sat in silence as she watched him process this sudden development, his gray eyes softening with concern as he took her in. When he didn’t say anything, she huffed in frustration and threw herself back onto the bed. More tears of frustration slid down her cheeks, and she hurriedly brushed them away.
Draco continued watching her for a moment before he tested the waters carefully and slid towards his wife. She stayed silent, which he took as in his favor, and he came closer to her side, propping himself up on one elbow.
“Hey,” he said softly, turning her head towards him with his free hand. “I’m sorry, love.”
He brushed a stray curl from her forehead, tucking it behind her ear. She let out a puff of breath but let him do it. Carefully, he brought his hand down to her stomach, a shadow of his smile gracing his normally stoic features as he felt their daughter respond to his touch. It was contagious. Hermione couldn’t help but let a small smile slip as she watched her husband’s enthrallment with their daughter’s jabs.
Until Lyra kicked. Hard.
Draco winced on her behalf, immediately moving his hand to the spot and rubbing soothing circles over it. Almost instantly, their daughter responded. Not with the frantic pummeling she was oft to do with her mother, but with a gentle, rhythmic rapping.
“Of course,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. She had tried for weeks trying to calm her daughter with any method she could think of, and the second Draco tried, she instantly responded to him. As if she already knew who he was. It seemed she would be right with her initial assessment. Lyra was indeed a Daddy’s girl already.
“She’s definitely … passionate,” Draco tried, carefully choosing his words so as to not provoke his very pregnant wife.
“It’s ridiculous, is what it is. She’s exhausting . She kicks non stop, no matter the time of day. She has no regard for a good night's rest, especially not mine. And after everything I’ve tried, it only takes a few taps from you and she’s complacent,” she couldn’t help but say, a twinge of jealousy seeping into her tone.
“Someone has to be the rational one in this marriage, Granger,” he teased.
“It’s Malfoy,” she waved him off absentmindedly. “And I am perfectly rational. Arguably more rational than you, Mr. Runs-Into-Every-Situation-Head-First-Without-Critical-Information.”
“That was one time!” he protested.
She gave him a look.
“Ok, two times. That third time doesn’t count since it was Theo’s fault for not warning me that we were walking into a trap,” he acquiesced. “But you have to agree, I’ve been the more rational between the two of us lately. Especially after the ice cream incident.”
He shuddered recalling the memory of the disgusting ice cream sundae concoction she had conjured up complete with strawberry ice cream, hot sauce, fried pickles and olives.
“It was really good at the time!” she defended.
Draco simply shook his head. He continued rubbing soothing circles over her stomach.
“What did you try?” he asked.
“I tried singing to her, but she definitely didn’t like that if the jab to my organs was any indication,” she sighed. “I tried talking to her several times, and it seemed to work until it didn’t. It seems Lyra is determined to test our sleeping limits early.”
That didn’t bode well for the future. Scorpius had been an excellent sleeper from the beginning, adapting to the feeding schedule they had established for him early on. He had never put up a fuss when it came time to put him down for naps and to bed, and as a result, they had been fairly well rested during those early days. Lyra didn’t seem to inherit that trait.
“Maybe it’ll be different after she’s born,” Draco said with false hope.
“That’s wishful thinking, and you know it,” Hermione shook her head.
He watched as she settled further into the mattress, bringing her hand next to his over her stomach. Sleep seemed to continue to evade her as she frowned slightly at the rolling underneath her fingertips.
Draco shifted as he wrapped his wife in his arms. She curled into his warmth, bringing her hand up to trace the lines of his sectumsempra scar that still marked his chest all these years later.
“I’m sorry that you’re so uncomfortable, love,” he said as she burrowed as close as she could. “I wish I could do something to alleviate the pain, but if she’s this strong already, it means-“
“She’s healthy and strong,” Hermione interrupted. “I know.”
She did know. And she was grateful.
She knew that with her and Draco’s history combined, with prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse and dozens of other dark curses in the heat of battle, they were lucky that neither of their children had been affected so far. She recalls those early days of her first pregnancy with Scorpius, when she hadn’t even been sure if she would carry a baby to term, much less carry two. It had been a horrible trial period, painstakingly counting down the days of her first trimester and endlessly waiting to wake up to a bed full of blood. She had never taken her son’s kicks for granted, and she would never take her daughter’s for granted either. Each jab, each smack was a sign that Lyra was alive. Not only that, but thriving.
Still, it didn’t stop her from wishing she had at least a day or two for a good night’s sleep.
“I’ve been feeling a bit overwhelmed,” she confessed quietly. “I feel almost… guilty because I was so sick during those first few months and then after that I’d been so focused on making sure everything is organized before she comes and that Scorpius is well adjusted to the idea of sharing us that I haven’t been able to connect with her. Not like I did with Scorp.”
Draco stayed silent, gently massaging her lower back in encouragement for her to continue.
“I just don’t want her to feel neglected during this time. Or…or that I didn’t love her. Because I do, Draco. So much . I just want to be able to do right by her. By both our children.”
Draco understood on somewhat of a deeper level that the bond he shared with his children could never compare to the one they shared with Hermione. She had been the only home they had known for nine months before she had endured viscous pain and hours of labor bringing them into the world. He understood how the transition from one to two children felt like such a large step even though they had done this before.
But this time was different. Hermione had been sicker, more tired. She had been on edge during her second trimester, nerves often getting the best of her at the worst times. It hadn’t gotten any better as she neared her due date.
“I think you should start your maternity leave early,” Draco murmured.
She looked up at him questioningly. A moment of silence passed between the two before she broke it.
“I can’t do that,” she said.
“Why not?” he questioned.
When she couldn’t give him an answer, he continued.
“You’re basically one step below head healer, and you’ve been focusing more on research than patients over the last few months. Susan already agreed to take the few patients you have off your hands last month anyways, and if you really find yourself restless at home, you can always work out your research here.”
Hermione chewed on her lip uncertainly.
“I don’t want to burden you. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how exhausted you have been lately, coming home so late from the DMLE,” she lectured.
Draco rolled his eyes.
“I’m not the one growing an entire person inside me love,” he said. “I think that’s definitely more exhausting than what i’ve been doing.”
Hermione looked him in the eye before slowly nodding.
“Only if you’re sure…” she said.
“I’m sure, love,” Draco said. “You deserve it. You’ve been working hard lately too.”
She pouted but he rubbed it away with a swipe of his thumb, bringing her in for a chaste kiss.
“Listen, Granger,” Draco began. “You are an amazing mother. I’ve watched you over these last few years with our son, and I’ve seen how you’ve given him nothing but unconditional love and endless patience since the moment he was born. And you know how he can be with all those questions of his. I swear to Salazar that kid’s curiosity will be the death of me one day.”
Hermione slapped her husband playfully.
“I have no doubt you’ll do the same for Lyra,” he continued softly. “Scorpius loves you, and Lyra is going to love you too. I know you’re scared, but you’re not alone in this, I promise. Our children are lucky to have you, and I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to be the mother of my children.”
She could feel the river of tears dripping down her face at his words, sniffling loudly. She quickly pulled him down to her for a languid kiss, which he instantly deepened.
“Bloody hell, Granger,” Draco brought her back down to reality. “If I knew all it took was a few words to get in your pants, I would have said them earlier.
“Prat,” she shoved him off of her.
He could be an annoying prat at times, but he was her annoying prat. Hermione wouldn’t have it any other way.
Draco was quick to draw her back to his chest again.
“Come here, witch,” he said as he kissed her forehead. “Do you feel any better?”
With all the talking with her husband and moving around in bed, she hadn’t even registered that Lyra had gone completely still.
“Much better,” Hermione let out a contented sigh. “You’re the best husband ever.”
“I know,” Draco smirked.
“Don’t let that get to your head.”
“Too late.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I love you too, Granger.”