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“Go back to bed, love. I’ll feed him with the milk under the stasis charm,” Draco had told her last night when Scorpius woke up for his midnight feeding.
Her mind was still foggy from the exhaustion of the day and getting used to their son, because the newborn from October was very different to their now three-month-old.
When morning arrived on the 24th, Draco had let her sleep in.
“I’ll take care of Scorp so you can have time in the kitchen on your own.”
It had been their tradition since they got married three years before. Hermione would have the kitchen all to herself and unlimited time to bake and make treats for their Christmas Eve movie marathon.
“We don’t have to do it this year, Draco. I know you barely slept last night and—“
“Of course we have to. It’s our family tradition, and now we have to include baby boy,” he said with a smile, then kissed her tenderly and took Scorpius with him. It was a rare gift as a new mum—alone time doing some of her favourite things.
***
“Sweet dreams, my little love,” she told Scorpius, and placed him on the charmed bassinet hovering next to her on the obnoxiously large corner sofa her parents had gifted them. The thing looked beyond out of place within the opulence of the Manor, but had become hers and Draco’s preferred spot for cuddling, even more now with the addition of the baby.
Love Actually played on mute on the TV. Draco rested his head on Hermione’s lap and promptly fell blissfully asleep.
“I had some coffee before, so I’m sure I’ll make it at least until the second movie,” he’d said, not even lasting the first thirty minutes of the film.
Hermione chuckled to herself as she trailed her fingers through his hair.
Her husband, the father of her child, the man who had shown her the meaning of devotion and what true love was.
'Life is full of unexpected twists and turns,’ the unbidden thought came to Hermione, clear as day. If there was someone who could attest to the truth in that statement, it was definitely her.
Her former enemy, a bigot, the human representation of hatred—at least that was what her younger self would’ve said if asked twenty years before. But then life dealt her an unexpected hand, one that started in the middle of the war when he changed sides, forcing her to see Draco in a new light.
The TV flickered, pulling her out of her thoughts, and she realised that while lost in her own thoughts, the first movie had ended and the next in their little movie marathon had begun.
Her head fell back as she stared at the ceiling, suddenly missing the enchanted night sky that had taken her breath away the first time she set foot in the Great Hall.
Hogwarts nostalgia always hit her during the holiday season, and since falling in love with Draco, she would always think about all the time lost. They could’ve been friends back then if his family hadn’t been who they were and he hadn’t hated everything about her.
Well, the feeling was mutual back then.
Hermione smiled and shook her head in disbelief. Friends with Draco Malfoy? Not something eleven-year-old Hermione would’ve approved of, and adult Hermione laughed, thinking about what her former, righteous self would say about them being in love.
The twinkling lights of their massive Christmas tree cast an ethereal glow over the family room, while the crackle of the fireplace and the breathing of her two greatest loves were the only sounds.
It was here, in the stillness of a winter night, that Hermione revelled in the fact that she had this, a quiet life full of love, something that seemed unattainable after all the pain and the struggles of the war. Her current reality was very different from the dreams of her childhood and the complete opposite of the stress and red-tape agony of her job at the Ministry, but precisely what she needed and wanted now.
She knew it was all temporary, that as much as she despised the slowness of bureaucracy, she would eventually go back to continue fighting for change. For now, she would enjoy them—her husband, her son, and the magic of their first Christmas as Dad and Mum.