Work Text:
I said I wish that
We could stay here,
But I fear our time has come
Hermione was staring out the window, watching the sunrise illuminate the ocean with the beginning of a new day. She was grateful for the air conditioning in the house; her hair would surely become a nightmare the moment she stepped out into the ocean breeze. Sleep had been hard to come by lately; the approaching anniversary had filled her with an anxiety she wouldn’t, couldn’t shake for at least a week after.
She heard the soft padding of her husband’s feet; clearly, the date had an affect on him as well. Strong, comforting arms wrapped around her from behind, each hand holding a steaming mug of what had to be the best coffee she’s ever tasted. Cafe de Olla soothed her in a way her favourite mug of tea never could.
“Enjoying the honeymoon, Granger?” Draco murmured into her hair, pressing a kiss into her haphazard bun and wrapping himself tighter around her. Hermione simply smiled and hummed, too busy enjoying her first cup of the day.
Right. Only 2 cups a day now. He’s going to figure it out as soon as I turn down my late afternoon and evening cup.
“I just wish we could be here longer. This beach house is everything I’ve ever dreamt it would be.”
Their secret wedding, with only their close friends (minus a well known red-head, who was simply too pregnant to travel) had taken place 3 weeks ago, and it had been perfect. The wedding took place in their newly renovated mansion, located in the small city of Ciudad del Carmen, and with the recent renovations it was the perfect combination of both of them.
The first renovation was Air Conditioning, with Hermione and Draco both agreeing that the perpetual English chill was the one thing they’d miss the most. The second being an undetectable extension charm, seeing as how together they had twice as many books as the Hogwarts library.
“What’s on your mind, love?” Draco murmured into her neck, slowly kissing his way down to her collar bone while she remained lost in thought.
“A lot has happened this year. I’m just trying to process it all, I guess.” Hermione replied, slowly tilting her head to allow him better access. He always was an excellent distraction.
“What part of it? The Prophet ruining our reputations? Weasel selling the story as if he was the wronged one? Astoria’s parents pretending you’re the reason we broke the engagement, even though it was their own dishonesty that truly caused it? The Ministry firing us both for ‘insubordination’ even though it was clearly prejudice against me? Or feeling so ostracised by the people you fought to save, to protect that we moved to a different country since you refused to deny me or let me break up with you?” Draco asked in a light tone, but the way his arms were beginning to constrict around her betrayed his true feelings.
Hermione could only recently admit that they had run away. Her hand in his, her trusty beaded bag stuffed with all the clothes they owned and anything sentimental they didn’t want to wait for the movers to bring. Being with a Malfoy meant money was no problem; having Narcissa’s enthusiastic blessing meant they would never do without parental support and their vaults would never be empty.
But the hurt from the aftermath of that damned article wouldn’t completely fade. Even when they showed a united front, setting up interviews with every wizarding news outlet, telling their side of the story, the rumours and lies spread by others won out, making their country feel unwelcome, and frankly, dangerous.
Ron did what he did best, setting up a tell-all interview with none other than Rita sodding Skeeter within days of the article. He painted Hermione as a power hungry man-eater, who was sleeping her way up the Ministry to make sure her all of her legislations passed. He claimed he was simply love struck and naive to his ex-girlfriends true intentions. Hermione saw red when he downplayed all the hard work she had put into passing every legislation; to claim she had completed it all simply because she was sleeping with the right people caused her to accidentally burn the copy of the Prophet she was holding. Draco convinced her to wait 24 hours before she finished reading Ron’s idiocy.
That was the first nail in the coffin.
The second was the Greengrass’s announcement in the Prophet, 3 days later.
The one where they claimed they were the wronged ones in the broken engagement, (no mention of Astoria though, which Hermione was quick to point out to an amused Draco), and that the Malfoys should do the right thing and pay the “Inconvenience Penalty” for backing out of the marriage without warning. They also alluded to Hermione being a man-eater, just in more polite, Pure-Blooded speak. Their insinuation that Draco and Hermione had been secretly seeing each other for a lot longer than they had was spread like wildfire between the high-society wives, and while Narcissa and Pansy did their best to defend them and explain the truth, the rumours were too fun to not spread and believe.
The fact is, the truth was too boring.
So Draco summoned his Rich Prat Wanker attitude and did what his father taught him; he threatened the Greengrass patriarch. He calmly informed him that if a full page redaction and apology to Hermione wasn’t front page of the Prophet in 48 hours, the entire wizarding world would know exactly how broke the Greengrass estate was and how many generations had hidden the blood curse that Astoria was inflicted with. And then, since they were the ones who had not been honest, he would expect the “Inconvenience Penalty” to be paid in full by that Friday. Draco simply smiled and said, “I promise you don’t want to find out what happens to you and your wife if I don’t see that front page.”
The next morning, there was a full page apology and redaction of every insane thing they had claimed about Hermione. And a small, hidden announcement of Blaise and Astoria’s upcoming wedding.
Draco swore up and down he had nothing to do with the updated, full page, picture filled announcement the next week. All he would say was, “Well, I’m glad they got the true recognition their love deserves.” Hermione simply shook her head and laughed, knowing it was more to spite her parents than to cause Astoria any harm. Astoria felt the same way, evidenced by the Howler filled with laughter from both Blaise and her, thanking Draco for using his petty side for good. Draco still denied it, of course. No matter how much his smile gave it away.
The Ministry’s reaction was probably the most shocking, even though it shouldn’t have been. Draco might have been publicly adored by the Ministry for working alongside the Chosen One, but he was still the youngest Death Eater and his part in Dumbledore’s death was a sore spot in Wizarding Britain. Even with Harry defending him tooth and nail, giving his public approval of their relationship, and denouncing Ron and his insanity every opportunity he got, he was powerless against the Wizengamot and the blood-thirsty Ministry who had been waiting for Draco to fuck up so spectacularly that they’d have no choice but to banish him.
“Dubious consent” was thrown around so much that Hermione couldn’t even read the two words in separate sentences without her eye and wand hand twitching. Within 5 minutes of his farce of a trial ending, the one where he was “cleared of all charges”(charges that weren’t even true to begin with) but relieved of his position as Auror and permanently banned from any Ministry job, Hermione had hexed Cormac Maclaggen with boils that spelt out “Creep” on his forehead. And another body part, the one he had rubbed up against her when he cornered her in the hallway to brag about “that Death Eater’s demise.”
Hermione would have probably been able to keep her job if it wasn’t for the fact that the scars were permanent, and Glamours only hid them for about 3 hours at most. Fortunately, Hermione had no interest in staying at the Ministry after what Draco was subjected to, and happily chose to move in to Draco’s loft as she was now unemployed and tired of the Weasley’s repeatedly attempting to break through her wards.
Ginny, bless her, reportedly went toe to toe with every single Weasley that had harassed Hermione, to the point that she threatened her mother with disowning them all unless she got her sons under control. Ron had been hexed by Ginny personally when he still arrived at the flat the day Hermione moved out. From what Ginny proudly told her, Ron was still learning how to sit on his not fully healed arse.
Then the threats started. Threats against Draco for “ruining the Golden Girl” with his “Death Eater Dick”, which had Hermione dissolving into laughter every time she read it, and threats against Hermione for “sullying one of the greatest blood lines in Wizarding history with her dirty blood” that had Draco “accidentally’ cursing the senders of those letters with Bat Bogey Hexes. Hermione, still unsure of how he even knew who had sent the anonymous letters, suggested he spend less time around Ginny after she found out, trying her hardest to hide her smile when she said it. Draco simply scoffed and stated that the She-Weasel was in no way an influence on him, hiding his own grin as well.
The final nail in the “Get the Fuck Out of Here” coffin came 2 months after the article came out. They were walking to Gringotts with Narcissa to set up their joint account and add Hermione as an authorised person to every single Malfoy account, enjoying a quiet Thursday morning in the usually bustling Diagon Alley when they were suddenly surrounded. Hermione’s hair stood on end, and before she knew it her and Draco had their wands drawn, duelling stances ready with Narcissa sandwiched between them.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise, really. They had just assumed that 3 weeks of silence from the Prophet and lack of hate mail meant the world had finally gotten over the scandal. They were just foolishly optimistic.
The group surrounding them hurled insult after insult, slowly moving closer towards the 3. It was only a matter of time before someone finally sent a curse their way. Hermione and Draco slowly moved to cover Narcissa, who simply watched their potential attackers with disinterest. While flattered that her son and future daughter in law were willing to protect her, she knew how to defend herself, and no one was going to harm her children. She wandlessly placed a protective shield around the 3 of them and waited.
The green light was heading straight toward Draco when she finally struck.
She bound and gagged the would-be murderer, watched her son and his future wife stun and tie up the rest of the group in a perfect synchronisation, and sent a Patronus to Harry requesting his immediate presence in Diagon Alley.
The attackers simply “fell through the cracks”, according to the Ministry report. Even if the Chosen One had made the arrests, gotten full confessions, and made sure every part of the investigation and trial was legitimate and air tight. The Wizengamot simply claimed there was no reason to prosecute “up-standing citizens”. Harry quit that same day, and in true Harry fashion, released the reports from the arrests and investigation in the Quibbler, exposing the corruption that ran deep in the Ministry. The Wizengamot never stood a chance against pissed off Harry.
The day the attackers were freed, a month after the attempted attack, Draco looked at Hermione and said “I bought us a house in Mexico. It’s beautiful. It's not beach front, but it's close enough. Would you like to start over with me?”
Hermione simply nodded and started making a to-do list, much to Draco’s amusement. Within 2 hours she had movers set up, boxes for what they would be taking with them, and had sent her last text to the group of people they wanted knowing.
Within 4 hours, the flat was full of their friends and loved ones, helping them pack and getting them drunk for a proper send-off. Tears, laughter, and stories abounded, along with repeated blessings for their decision to leave. They were surrounded by love when they stepped into the Floo, Draco having been pulled aside by his mother minutes earlier to receive a small, square box.
“She is the one for you, my son. You will know when it’s time to give this to her. I expect a text message the moment she says yes”, she said with a watery smile. Draco hugged his mother tightly, sad to leave her behind but ready to begin his life with the woman he’d loved since he was 13. Knowing that his mother had decided to move to France after the incident had helped ease the guilt of leaving her during such a dangerous time.
The first 6 months of living in Mexico were interesting, to say the least. Their Spanish was good, but not great. And they couldn’t look more different from their neighbours if they tried, since Hermione refused to Glamour or change any aspect of them in order to “start fresh”, as Draco had suggested. They settled in a Muggle community, welcoming their neighbours over for Carne Asadas, always offering to buy the insane amount of alcohol needed for any celebrations, (“Honestly Hermione, it’s their daughter’s first birthday. Why the fuck do they need at least a PALLET of beer? And all this mezcal? We should have never volunteered to be the Drink Padrinos for the entire neighbourhood, they’re truly going to empty the Malfoy vault at this rate” grumbled a very shocked Draco), and offering to watch their children when needed. They felt safe, welcomed, and gave back as much as they received. Not to mention, no one in Wizarding Britain had a clue where they were, the Fidelius charm keeping them hidden in plain sight.
The proposal was perfect. The house was officially renovated, and their loved ones travelled down to see how they had adjusted to their new lives. Surrounded by friends, old and new, Draco got down to one knee, smiled at Hermione, and simply said, “You’re mine, Granger. And I’m yours. Now, let me make you Granger-Malfoy.” Hermione nodded while she sobbed, watching him place a ring that looked a little too much like Princess Diana’s on her left hand, while the entire party reached an uproar that set off car alarms. (“Their ring is a poor imitation of the one you have, Granger. The one you’re wearing is over 3 hundred years old. They’re just copycats.”)
The wedding took 2 months to plan. Hermione and Draco agreed that it would be “short, sweet, and to the point”, much to Narcissa’s dismay. But it didn’t stop her from making it as grand as she could, with flowers from the manor, Hermione’s dress handmade by her personal stylist, and the ceremony itself being a beautiful, peaceful event that ended with Draco and Hermione’s soul binding.
Draco whisked her away to a private home on the coast of El Salvador for 3 weeks on the beautiful Playa El Majahual, where clothes were only worn when they left their home to eat as many pupusas and yucca frita con chicharron as their stomachs could handle. Hermione credited all the empanadas de leche that she ate with why her jeans wouldn’t fit.
Then, suddenly, her favourite sweet treat betrayed her. She couldn’t even smell them without running to empty her stomach. After the 3rd incident caused her to sob hysterically, she suddenly sat up and really thought about how she hadn’t gotten her period yet. Shit.
That morning, before the sun and her husband rose, Hermione snuck away into the bathroom and ran a quick diagnostic test. And there it was. 2 bright little orbs(TWO? TWO. TWINS?) in her uterus, the reason her favourite dessert caused her misery, why her tight jeans were now too tight, why she cried when the pupusa vendor gave her a free pupusa with a knowing smile and “cuidese mija, y no se le olvide comer” even though she had never met the woman before.
After letting her mind run for far too long, all the ruminating finally leading her back to the present, she realised Draco was no longer behind her, but in front, watching her with worried eyes. Shit, she had checked out for too long.
“Hermione, talk to me. Where did you just go? Are you okay? What do you need?”
And before Hermione could reassure him, tell him she was fine but there was something she needed to say, Draco’s phone rang.
Everyone knew they wouldn’t be back until tomorrow, and after Theo drunkenly called them to serenade them on their first night away, a strict “Don’t call either of them unless someone is dead” rule had been agreed upon by their circle.
Draco strode over to his phone, his face scrunching up. “It’s my mother. I have to answer this.”
Hermione had a feeling as to why she was calling, but she wanted to be the one to break the news. Even if she knew Narcissa meant well and more than likely assumed Hermione had already told Draco.
As Draco was putting the phone to his ear, Hermione blurted out,
“I’m pregnant.”
Draco’s phone shattered once it hit the ground.