Chapter Text
Epilogue Two
Before Hermione started showing, she and Draco had a vow renewal. Draco, Pansy, Ginny, and Luna fawned over decorations, more place settings, and flower arrangements that included flowers from their first wedding for weeks, planning.
Hermione was given the task to relax and grow their child, so she did exactly that; she wasn’t in charge of a single thing during the planning of wedding number two.
And, yet, she loved every single detail.
It was gorgeous, with white flowers and magically suspended candles that reminded her of the Great Hall. Her original dress was altered some by Pansy to be even more extravagant, as were Draco’s original dress robes.
Even down to the menu, the night was perfect.
And at the end of the speeches, Hermione and Draco took to the mic to announce their pregnancy, which threw Ginny and Luna into a frenzy of tears and planning and excitement.
Hermione never imagined she’d get to this place, where she could feel so supported, so happy and positive. But, she did, even if it was hell getting there.
Baby Scorpius was born happy and healthy, with hair and eyes as light as his father’s, but cheeks dusted with freckles like his mother’s.
Tiny, feathered wings budded from his shoulder blades when he got scared or upset.
Lyra came next, with wild, blond curls, and chocolate brown eyes, just like Hermione’s. Then, Cassie, with slightly darker blond curls and grey eyes.
The girls didn’t have wings at first, but when Lyra turned three, she sprouted them, too, ruining her favorite shirt. Mummy mended it right up and brewed more of her special anti-tear potion.
Right when Draco and Hermione swore no more children, they discovered they were expecting a fourth.
“Clearly, we both wanted another,” Draco joked with her as the detection spell glimmered over her belly.
Hermione blushed, fighting a smile. “ Clearly .”
Leo was last, his blond hair much like Scorp’s, straight and nearly white, but eyes like Lyra’s, brown and deep.
Draco made the perfect father; he was doting and loving, overly anxious at times, but obsessed with his family in a way Hermione absolutely adored.
She would get home from work or a friend’s place to her husband sitting on the couch, two babies’ heads on his lap, their smallest baby in his arms, and another laying over his feet on the ground, none of their children willing to leave him alone for long. Or to him sitting between their childrens’ beds in their room, wings out, watching them sleep calmly, as if worried something would happen to them.
She used to have to pry a sleeping Scorpius from his arms in order to get him to come to bed when it was just them and him; he could stare at their baby for hours. If Hermione didn’t feel the same way, she’d probably be jealous.
They created such a perfect little family, one that kept Hermione busy enough to stay sane, but not too busy for her mild workload in the archives, or for her volunteer work at the DRCMC, where creatures were now being helped all day, every day.
Draco is the perfect house husband, taking care of her and their babies in ways she will forever be grateful for.
And when her veela mate wants some time alone with her, the kids are shipped off to Aunt Pans and Uncle Nev, where they play with their pseudo-cousins in the gardens, spelled to be warm and safe all year-round.
It’s everything either one of them could’ve ever wanted; happiness, nearly too much love, and most importantly, quiet, safe lives.
After everything they’ve been through, they deserve that.
When their children ask about their heritage, about how Mummy and Dada fell in love, they’ll be in for a whirlwind of a story; one of mates, of bad men, of magic, of research, and of adventure.
But, for now, it’s all behind them.
Where it should be.