Chapter Text
Harry stared morosely at the light yellow wall of the mind healers waiting room, slumping down on one of the brightly coloured bean bags. Healer Miller always said that the room was designed to be a cheerful and calming environment, but he wasn't feeling calm or cheerful, so obviously it wasn't working.
Hermione had forced him to see a mind healer after the war had ended. She said she was tired of him repressing his feelings and that he needed to learn to be more “open” with himself and the people who loved him. He wanted to argue that he had been plenty open with her while they were camping, but she wasn't having it.
That was how he had found himself sitting in front of Healer Miller, talking to her about his childhood. Unsurprisingly, Hermione was right. Talking to someone did help and Healer Miller was perfect for him. She was non-judgemental, seemed to genuinely listen to him and nothing that he had said to her had ended up in the paper.
However, he was currently wishing that he had just cancelled this session and stayed home. He didn't feel like talking about the week he was having. He didn't feel like doing much of anything, to be honest. Unfortunately, he had promised Hermione that he wouldn't try to skip sessions, and you didn't cross Hermione unless you wanted to end up on the business end of a nasty hex.
A tap on the shoulder interrupted his thoughts and Harry looked up to see the kind face of Healer Miller smiling at him. “Shall we go into my office, Harry?” She said.
He reluctantly followed her and sat down on the light grey sofa, grabbing the small tub of putty she had put out for him. He always felt better talking about difficult topics when he had something to distract him.
“So Harry, how has your week been?” Healer Miller said, in her quiet voice. He could tell that she could sense that there was something bothering him but was waiting for him to tell her himself.
“Not that great actually,” he said, not wanting to drag things out.
“Oh, and why was that?” She smiled encouragingly at him.
“Well, I did something awful,” he said.
“What did you do?” She asked, crossing her legs and looking at him intently.
He looked down at the floor, cursing Hermione for making him do this.
“I got a girl pregnant,” he mumbled quietly.
“I'm sorry, what was that? I'm afraid I didn't quite hear you,” she said.
“I got a girl pregnant. And then I abandoned her and the baby, like the utter prick that I am,” he said, hiding his face with his hands.
“Why did you do that? From talking to you, I always got the impression that you wanted a family.” She seemed puzzled.
“I do. It's just I always thought that I would have kids later on. You know, once I've got all of my shit sorted. I mean, I went straight from an abusive household to a war. I'm still fucked up and I don't want to end up messing up my child because I don't know how to function properly,” he said, moving his hands to his lap.
“I can't even get out of bed, some days. I just feel, stuck. Like all the bad thoughts in my head are pinning me down. Even little things like eating breakfast or having a shower seem like too much effort. Look at me, I'm such a freak that I can't even look after myself. How would I look after a baby?” He started to cry, hot frustrated tears running down his cheeks. He reached for a tissue to blow his nose.
“Hey Harry, we've talked about this. Depression and PTSD don't make you a freak, given all the things that you've gone through it's a wonder that you're even still sane,” her voice had taken on a soothing tone as if she was trying to calm a scared horse.
“Sometimes I don't feel very sane. A sane person wouldn't have left her to raise the baby on her own. Sane people don't feel so completely numb. So fucking empty. A baby deserves a father who doesn't have a panic attack every time he's in a crowded place. Someone who can be there to cheer them on at their Quiditch match. I can't give them that,” he said, his words bitter and angry.
Healer Miller handed him a stress ball, and he squeezed it angrily.
“What about his mother? Do you think that she'll be able to give the baby a good childhood?”
“Yeah. She used to not be a very nice person, but she's made an effort to change since the war. Her father wasn't the best but I think that she'll be a good mother. And she has a lot of money, so she won't have problems providing for the kid.” Harry realized as he said it that it was true, he really did think that Malfoy would be a good mom.
“Harry, I think that you need to figure out what will be best for both you and the baby. Maybe you can see them at the weekends? If you're not ready to act as a father then perhaps you could just see them for supervised play dates.”
“Maybe, if the mother lets me. But right now I need to focus on getting to a point where I can get out of bed to do that in the first place. I mean, today is the first day that I've gone outside since I found out about the pregnancy,” he said.
Healer Miller nodded. “Well Harry, it seems that our time has run out. I enjoyed talking to you, as always and you've made a lot of progress. I remember the first session that you came to see me, you didn't even think that you needed help. You almost bit off my head when I suggested that you might have depression.”
“Yeah. Thank you, by the way. Having someone to talk to who isn't Ron or Hermione is really nice. This probably sounds weird but sometimes it feels like you help to organise my thoughts,” he said, as he walked out.
“That doesn't sound strange at all. You're welcome, Harry.”
Living with Granger and Weasley was odd. The room they had given her to sleep in was undoubtedly a step up from where she had been sleeping before, but the atmosphere was tense. They still hadn't told Potter about what they had done, and she could sometimes hear them arguing about it when they thought that she was asleep.
It didn't help that her morning sickness had finally kicked in. Unfortunately for Weasley, she seemed to throw every time she smelled bacon, prompting Granger to ban it from the breakfast table. He still grumbled about it but Draco was very appreciative which was all that mattered really, he would just have to learn to live with it.
Pregnancy was certainly not fun in the least but it was proving to be very helpful to live with a healer. Granger gave good advice, and she could give Draco the potions that she couldn't afford to buy herself. Slowly but surely she was starting to fall into a comfortable routine. Every morning she would wake up, early and get ready for the day. Then she would sit down for an awkward breakfast and make stilted small talk. After years of fighting, the forced politeness felt strange.
Then she would read one of the muggle baby books Granger got for her. She was currently half-way through “Mommy and me, a guide for single mothers” and she was finding it incredibly patronizing. Most of the advice revolved around trying to find the baby a good step father. As if anyone would want her now.
After she had given up on reading she would scour the Prophet for jobs. Anything was better than nothing. The few job interviews she had got had mainly been old perverts who didn't care that she was an ex death eater because she was a female and desperate enough for a job that she wouldn't report them for trying to grab her tits while she was trying to clean their homes. She gave up searching for a job after she answered one of the advertisements and opened the door to find Greg's father leering at her. She still shuddered when she thought about it. Bloody pervert.
One of the biggest surprises that she had encountered while living with them was that they had a cat. Not any cat, it would seem, but a majestic hot-tempered, ginger cat. He reminded her a bit of Weasley. The creature had taken quite the shine to Draco and would often be found curled up in her lap, purring as she stroked him.
The first time it had happened, Granger had walked in and stared at them for several seconds, her face slack with shock. It had irritated Draco, her emotions had been all other the place recently, and she had snapped at the woman “Oh for Merlin’s sake Granger, why are you looking at me like that? I'm stroking your cat, not sacrificing your new born.”
“Sorry. It's just that Crookshanks is normally quite grumpy and he doesn't really like people. This is just a bit unusual, that's all,” she had said, still seeming a bit shaken.
“Seriously Granger, a beautiful tom like this one and you call him a vulgar name like Crookshanks? Poor thing. He's obviously just upset that he didn't get the gorgeous name he deserved.” Granger rolled her eyes at her.
“Is that why you've been so rude all these years? A bad name?” She said teasingly.
“Says the woman named Hermione, I don't know what your parents were thinking with that mouthful. You've most likely lost count of the number of people who've mispronounced it,” she retorted, smiling. It felt nice to be having a normal conversation for once.
“That's true, I still shuddered thinking about the mess that Viktor Krum made of it,” she said, wincing “If you don't mind me asking, why did your parents call you Draco. I mean, isn't that a boys name?
“It's fine. It was because my father was certain that he was going to have a boy, every firstborn Malfoy before me had been, so he had no reason to think that it would be different with me. When it turned out that I was a girl, he couldn't be bothered to pick something else so I ended up as a girl with a boys name,” she sighed.
“I actually used to be rather sensitive when it came to my name. That's why are I was so rude when your Weasley insulted it when we first met. I mean, I was also a little shit but it was mainly that.”
Granger looked at her with an unidentifiable emotion in her eyes. “Why didn't your mother do anything, Draco?” She asked.
“My mother had just given birth, she was hardly in the right state to start coming up with girl names. Even if she had been, I'm not sure she would have gone against my father. She loves me, but she's scared of my father, and fear tends to be a stronger motivator than love,” Draco said. Then she thought of something “Wait. Since when do you call me Draco?”
“I mean, you do live with me after all. I can't just keep on calling you Malfoy forever. That would be rather peculiar, don't you think?”
“Okay, then I suppose I shall start calling you Hermione,” she said.
“Yes, I suppose so,” Hermione said, smiling warmly at her.
After that, Hermione was a lot less cautious when it came to talking to Draco, and Ron seemed to follow suit. It was like a barrier had been removed, and they could finally cross it and find out what they had been missing all this time.
It turned out that Ron was actually a lot smarter than she had thought he was, and he was something of a genius when it came to chess. They had quite a few interesting matches, and he had commented on how nice it was to finally have someone to play with who was good at the game. Hermione was, quite frankly horrible at it, much to her annoyance.
Hermione was also different from how Draco had thought that she would be. She was a lot more fun than people thought she was. Once Draco had walked in on her listening to some kind of muggle rock, and dancing along as she cleaned.
When she had asked her about it, Hermione had just smiled and said “Oh yeah, that's Queen. I can show you some of their stuff if you like.”
“That's the Queen? But that was a man,” Draco had said, puzzled.
“No, not the Queen. The bands called Queen. Here, listen.” She had taken out a peculiar muggle device and pressed a button.
A rhythmic beat filled the room and a man started to sing. “Well it's certainly better than Celestina Warbeck. What's this song called?” She asked.
“This is one of my favourites, actually. Its called killer queen,” Hermione said.
“Mm. It sounds like it was based of Blaises mother. Terrifying woman. I'm completely sure that the only reason that she hasn't been arrested already is because even the aurors are afraid of her,” Draco said. Hermione snorted.
“She has quite the reputation. I don't know how she gets men to marry her any more. It's practically a death sentence,” she said.
“Don't tell anyone but I personally suspect that she uses love potion,” she replied in a mock whisper.
The other womens laughter had filled the kitchen, prompting Draco to start giggling uncontrollably. It wasn't that funny but there was just something contagious about Hermiones laughter.
“You know, it's nice to talk to another woman for once. Most of my friends are boys, which is nice but sometimes it's also fun to talk to other girls,” Hermione said, after she had recovered from her laughing fit.
“What about Rons younger sister?” Draco asked.
“Ginny is great, but all she talks about is Quidditch. Now I don't mind a bit of Quidditch talk but it becomes a little tedious after a while,” she said.
“I love Quidditch but I do agree that if one talks about it too often then it can become a bit dull. Now tell me Hermione, have you ever read Glori cémus per Filium Magia? I was reading it the other day and I thought that you might enjoy it.”
They listened to music and talked about books for a few hours until Ron walked in and interrupted them. They had dinner and Hermione ended up introducing them to television, which seemed be the muggle equivalent of portraits putting on a play.
As she sat on the couch with Crookshanks sprawled on her lap and Ron and Hermione curled up next to her, watching something that Hermione called “Star wars”, Draco realized that for the first time since before the war, she was completely happy.