18Twenty-seven
Hi guys - this is just for a bit of fun. A oneshot, dedicated to my beautiful cousin Peachy (no, that's not her real name. Long story) on her 16th birthday. Peach, happy birthday...love you!
"Hey you." She smiled.
"Hey yourself." Draco smirked, and leaned over to kiss her gently. "You don't look a day over thirty, Hermione."
"Thirty?! I'm twenty-seven today!"
He nodded. "Mmm. I'm not going to lie to you – I can definitely see some wrinkles there. I'm only being honest, mind."
"Draco!" she whacked his arm.
"Ouch!"
She smirked. "Serves you right."
He frowned. "What time is it?"
"Umm…"
Silence.
"There's a clock on your bedside table Hermione."
"Right." She blushed. "It's – for the love of Merlin, it's six-thirty!"
"Urrgh."
She raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"
"Go back to sleep."
She turned over and lay back down, smiling, as she felt pair of arms wrap around her as Draco pulled her closer to him.
"Ttyl." She murmured.
"What?"
"Talk. To. You. Later."
"Is that telephone speak?"
"Mm."
"But we're not – spexting?"
"Texting."
"That. So you should speak properly."
"Go to sleep." She groaned, and closed her eyes.
The blissful silence only lasted for…approximately six seconds.
"MUMMY!"
She felt something launch itself onto the bed, accompanied by a huge "thump" and lots of excited squealing.
"Mummy. Mummy. Mummy. Mummy. Mummy. Mummy - "
"Sweet Salazar." She heard Draco whisper in her ear. "If we - "
"Mummy. Mummy. Mummy - "
"Stay still, with our eyes closed - "
"Mummy. Mummy. Mummy. Mummy - "
"Do you think it'll go away?"
"Draco!" she scolded, turning over. "That's our daughter you're talking about!"
"MUMMY!" her daughter squealed again, throwing herself at her.
"Hi honey." Hermione hugged her.
"Daughter?" she heard Draco mutter. "Demon child, more like."
"Am I a demon child mummy?"
Before she could answer, Draco had jumped out of bed and whisked Violet into his arms, swinging her around the room, much to her delight.
"Yes, you are a demon child. But you're MY demon child Vi, so that's alright. And remember, if you aren't sorted into Slytherin – that's where all the demon children go – then Daddy will be very, very angry."
"Draco!" Hermione frowned at him. "Don't pressurise her already!"
"Well." He put Violet down. "I'm not going to allow her to be sorted into Gryffindor, what with your bloody suicidal tendencies and all that."
"Don't swear in front of Vi!"
"Sorry love." He kissed her quickly.
"Bleeurgh!"
They pulled apart.
"What's wrong, Vi?" Hermione bent down so she was at eye-level with her daughter.
"You kissed Daddy. And boys have cooties."
"What?!"
"Boys have cooties. You can't kiss them, because then YOU'LL get cooties."
"Violet." Hermione crossed her arms. "Who told you that?"
"Daddy. And he said that if a boy comes near me, he'll cut of his thingymajigs and feed them to a hippogriff."
Hermione turned to Draco, to find him whistling and staring out of the window with a comically innocent expression on his face.
"Draco?"
"Yes?"
"Why did you tell Violet that boys have "cooties"?"
"Well I'm not about to let her get a boyfriend, am I? I had to tell her something!"
"Sweet Merlin." Hermione sighed. "Draco, she's four years old."
"So? I had Pansy hanging of my arm at that age."
"She shuddered. Parkinson…is something…different."
"Indeed, but now I have YOU. So let's not think about her." He sat down on the bed, pulling Violet onto his lap, and slinging and arm around Hermione's shoulder. "I've got my two favourite girls in the world with me, and we're going to make sure you have an amazing birthday." He kissed Hermione again, ignoring Violet's look of disgust.
"I don't want you to kiss Mummy."
"Oh, but Vi, I promise I don't have any cooties."
"Yes, but Mummy says that all boys are egotistical, big-headed prats."
"Oh really?" Draco turned to Hermione, one eyebrow cocked.
"At least I taught her some new words!"
"Oh!"
"Yes Vi?"
"And she says you smell."