Adult Content Warning
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Summary
Draco cut her off. “You want our baby.”
Theo leaned in, voice low, dark. „Did you mean what you just said, Hermione?“
Taking a breath, she nodded slowly, hair bouncing back and forth, as a slow smile spread across her warm cheeks. And then, in that quiet little pause, as the soul bond between the three of them thrummed, something darker rose. A memory. A name. A buried thing.
Theo was the one who said it with a slow grin: “My father would hate that.”
Draco snorted, lips curling. “Mine would probably roll in his grave.”
And Hermione—Hermione, their little Gryffindor-turned-heathen goddess—looked between them with a slow, almost feral smile.
“Well then,” she whispered. “Let’s make them watch.”