A Long, Strange Trip

II.

Things hadn't turned out the way she'd wanted them to at all.

Cho's attention drifted out the picture window where she sat with a cup of tea. In the near distance she could see the forms of her husband and son darting and diving around the Quidditch field; Damien's form was erratic, but he held himself well on the broom. Cho wasn't sure she liked the idea of Draco forcing him into the game at such an early age, but at the same time she found herself looking forward to the time alone while they were at practice.

When Damien was born, Cho had been disappointed that he wasn't the girl she'd been hoping for - a girl named Daphne. At least with a girl, she would have had some semblance of companionship around the house and in her daily life. She didn't have many friends now that she was isolated at the Malfoy mansion; everyone she dealt with was purely about the business of weddings. Or the tedious formal events she and Draco were expected to host for the upper-crust members of Draco's business team. The women were so remote and chilly, and talked of nothing interesting whatsoever. She missed the companionship of her girlfriends at Hogwarts, and found herself wondering from time to time where Marietta Edgecombe had ended up, if she and her family had survived the war. Sometimes, despite herself, she even wondered what would happen if she were to drop in on Hermione and Ron.

"I'm sure the world would end," she muttered under her breath, as she blew across the top of the teacup and took a sip. Besides, no matter what derogatory comments Draco made about his former classmates, they were quite obviously happy together, a very good match.

What if she went to see Harry and Luna?

Suddenly the teacup was too heavy, and Cho replaced it on the saucer and set that down on the table next to the sofa. She didn't hate Luna Lovegood, not really. Well, maybe she did, just a little...she didn't know what else to feel toward the woman who had ultimately won the heart of Harry Potter. To top it off, Luna had given Harry the daughter Cho wanted.

Cho's eyes drifted out the window across the lawns. Draco was hinting that he was ready to have another child. He'd been making romantic overtures, remarking on how they should expand the family. He wanted a family full of boys, enough for a Quidditch team, no doubt. Even though the idea of sleeping with Draco excited Cho about as much as a History of Magic lesson with Professor Binns, it might lead to the daughter she wanted.

"Daphne Louise Chang Pot- Malfoy," she caught herself. No, she'd made her bed, she had to lie in it now. She may have accepted Draco's proposal in a moment of weakness and vulnerability, having just lost her parents and beau Michael Corner in the war, but she'd accepted nonetheless. She would have to see it through.

Pregnant. No. It wasn't possible. Hermione stared blankly at the plate of flapjacks that had looked so delicious just a moment ago, as if she didn't know quite what she was supposed to do with them. Babies weren't part of the plan, not yet - she'd just started the new job, things were going so smoothly...

Even as her mind reeled, Hermione felt a rush of warmth begin in her stomach, as if someone had placed a hot water bottle there and pricked it with a pin to let the warm water spread through her veins. She wondered if it would be a boy or a girl - she already had the girl's name picked out, she'd known since she was eleven that she wanted a daughter named Anthea Charlotte (Charlotte after her mother, Anthea just because she liked the sound of it). Of course she'd never let on to anyone about it, frankly she felt a bit embarrassed by the fact that she had even planned that part of her life so early, the way most girls planned their weddings.

Hermione shook her head and returned to her senses. Wait. She was going by a random comment from Luna Lovegood? What, was Luna a Seer now, had she developed an internal pregnancy detector?

It's quite obvious. The words echoed in Hermione's head.

"What's so obvious?" Hermione asked suddenly, "about me, why is it so obvious?"

"Well in case you hadn't noticed you've been acting a little - " Ginny abruptly stopped, and acted as if she were fascinated by the bottle of syrup on the table.

"Maternal," Luna finished calmly, as she prodded a piece of fruit with her fork and put it in her mouth. Then she fixed the napkin against Phoebe's throat.

"That's not exactly what I was going to say," Ginny murmured.

"You've been cleaning the house, spoiling Ron, am I right?

"Well..."

"You want to go clothes shopping, to do feminine things. Things you don't normally do."

Now that Hermione thought of it, she had been rather enthusiastic about this shopping trip with Ginny. It had been like pulling teeth for Ginny to convince her to do it a month ago. The idea of spending an entire day shopping for clothes was about as exciting to Hermione as a Divination lesson.

"But - "

"Aunt Her-my-nee is getting a baby too!" Phoebe announced.

"Wait, this doesn't definitively mean I'm expecting," Hermione said. "A few random changes of behavior doesn't prove anything."

"Hermione, when was the last time you showed up early to go on a shopping trip?" Ginny looked at her, head titled curiously to one side. A playful smile tugged at her lips. "And I haven't heard you complain once today about how Ron left his breakfast dishes in the sink, or how he forgot to turn off the living room light before going to bed."

"Well I let Ron sleep in, so I did the dishes myself."

Ginny acted as if she were going to faint, fanning herself exaggeratedly with her hand. "I didn't know that was possible!"

"Very funny."

"If you need to be convinced then by all means buy a home pregnancy test," Luna said. "Of course I always preferred the natural method myself."

"Which is?" Hermione asked, despite herself.

"I simply drink a glass of honey water mixed with mapleroot and a sprinkle of thistle powder right before bed. If I have a dream about a baby that night, then I know I'm expecting."

Hermione snorted. "Really."

"But you can do whatever works for you," Luna said calmly. "For the last two weeks I've been having dreams about twins."

"Twins?!" Ginny dropped her fork, and Hermione made a mental note to pick up a home pregnancy test.

One-year anniversary. Blimey. Ron couldn't believe it. Now what on earth was he going to get Hermione? Flowers, jewelry, perfume....from the way she'd been acting, Hermione clearly was expecting some grand romantic gesture. A trip, perhaps? But they couldn't afford that now, not while they were saving for a house. Perhaps a night of romance. He'd put on music, light candles, and present her with roses. Maybe they could go dancing. Of course he couldn't dance to save his life - he had almost no rhythm. It had been a bloody miracle he'd made it through their first dance at the wedding without causing serious injury to Hermione.

It was as if a light bulb went off in his head. That was it! Dancing lessons. He would take dancing lessons, and surprise her on the night of their anniversary by sweeping her into his arms and leading her through the very same song from the wedding without stepping on her toes once. Their anniversary was still eight days away, that would be enough time to learn one dance.

"Yes! Perfect," he said, pleased with himself. There was an Arts Center not too far from there, he would go right away and sign himself up. He wouldn't tell anyone, especially not Fred & George - just imagining the endless number of jokes and smart-aleck remarks they would make at his expense made Ron's face flush deep red.

The last person Ron expected to see when he walked into the Arts Center fifteen minutes later was Neville Longbottom, the nervous groom-to-be, counting off to himself and going through the motions of a dance with an invisible partner while an instrumental song similar to what might be played in an elevator floated through the room. There were posters on the walls depicting artists engaged in various forms of dance; all of the dancers were moving in time to music only they could hear. The dance instructor was nowhere in sight, although Ron heard sounds of shuffling and things moving around in a back room.

"Neville?"

Neville's head shot up, and immediately he blushed. "Oh. Hi, Ron. What are you doing - I, well - um, yeah. I'm here because...I can't dance to slow songs and Ginny wants us to dance to 'our song' at the wedding." He paused. "Why are you here? You already got through the slow dance."

"Yeah, just barely. I'm going to learn to dance to our wedding song again, and surprise Hermione on our anniversary by not stepping all over her feet. Don't tell her, okay? It's my present to her. By the way why did you wait so long to start learning? The wedding's tomorrow."

"I've been practising for the last month. But I just can't seem to get it."

"Maybe that's because you're dancing with air, and not with Ginny."

"No, no, sometimes I dance with the instructor. She's a bit on the rickety side, but she's about the same size as Ginny."

"Speaking of whom, where is the instructor?"

"Oooh, delightful! Another student!"

The sound of jingling bracelets and a high-pitched almost birdlike voice came in response to Ron's inquiry. A small-boned woman who looked to be somewhere in her mid-to-late sixties emerged from the back room. She had graying hair and wore a black leotard with a wispy pink ballerina skirt several years too young for her, carrying with her the overpowering scent of what could only be lemon furniture polish.

Ron took a step back as she approached, and decided immediately to breathe through his mouth to avoid inhaling the strong smell. He eyed the woman curiously; she was small, and looked to be very fragile - he imagined he would probably break her toes if he stepped on them even slightly.

"I'm Polly Snapdragon. What can I do for you, Mister --?" she asked, looking at Ron.

"Oh, erm...Ron. Ron Weasley. I was thinking about...well, now maybe - " He wondered if there was perhaps a potion he could brew that would help him dance. Then he recalled his misadventure with the chicken in the days preceding his wedding, when he'd tried to make a Love potion - he hated to think what would happen this time if he made a mistake.

"You want to learn to dance to surprise your young lady."

"Yeah, I do," Ron admitted, surprised.

"That happens a lot this time of the year. So many weddings."

"It's actually - it's for my wife, our first anniversary. I want to dance to the song played at our wedding."

"Oh, how splendid! What a romantic gentleman you are."

"But you know, on second thought, I think maybe - "

"Nonsense!" Polly took Ron's arm and with remarkable ease she pulled him into the room with Neville. "Now, how many lessons shall I sign you up for, Mr. Weasley?"

Harry couldn't help but smile as he made his way back through town toward home. It was so funny how even after all their years together, Ron could still be dumbfounded by Hermione's behavior. Even more amusing was the fact that Ron always seemed to think that Harry was the one to help him sort it out, as if Harry had any clue as to the inner workings of Hermione's psyche.

He rounded the corner, where he almost ran smack into Hermione and Ginny.

"Oof! Sorry about that," he said, straightening his glasses.

"Oh - oh, that's okay. Hi, Harry," Hermione said somewhat dismissively. She seemed preoccupied, which was not at all how Ron had described her just a short time ago. In fact, her mood at that moment reminded Harry of Luna.

"You just missed Luna," Ginny said, casting a glance over her shoulder. "She and Phoebe shouldn't be too far ahead by now. We had breakfast together. Oh, and congratulations, she told us the good news!" In stark contrast to Hermione, Ginny's eyes were lit up like sparklers and her face was flushed, no doubt due to the excitement of her impending wedding.

"Thanks."

"So were you just blown away when she told you?"

"Told me - ? Well, yeah, I mean I'm happy about it."

"'Happy about it'? That's it? That's all you have to say?"

Harry was puzzled. What on earth did she expect? His wife was expecting, he was happy. Was he supposed to burst into a song and dance number now?

"Ginny, what's all the fuss? You didn't get like this the first time Luna announced we were expecting."

"Well, the first time you were expecting you weren't having twins!"

"Well, you know..." Harry broke off . "What did you say?"

"I'm expecting," Hermione said suddenly, to no one in particular. "Ron and I. We're having a baby."

"Huh?" Harry's eyes widened and his glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose.

Ginny looked at Hermione in surprise. "I thought you were going to wait until we got the test first."

"I had to say it out loud, I suppose. To hear myself say the words. Make it seem real."

Harry's head was spinning. He didn't know which way to turn - one part of him wanted to run and find Luna, the other was rooted to the spot as he tried to process both pieces of news.

Twins, they were having twins...Ron was going to be a dad. Hermione was going to be a mother...Did that make him an uncle?...Luna was carrying twins?...Would the house be big enough?...Would they be a boy and a girl, or identical twins? If they were identical, how would he tell them apart? He could tell Fred and George apart but he'd known them for years...Ron would drop through the floor when he found out about Hermione. Imagine, Ron a dad! They could take the kids out together....TWINS?

"Well, congratulations, Hermione. Um, see you tomorrow, Gin. I have to go..."

Harry then took off down the street to catch up with Luna.

Damien would definitely make a good Seeker. Draco nodded to himself as he supervised his son's Quidditch drills. Of course his form could use some work, but he held himself well on the broom and he definitely had the speed. He could hear the announcer's voice echo through his head as if it were happening right there:

"...and, playing Seeker for the champion Falcons, Damien Malfoy!...."

The Falmouth Falcons. Only the best, naturally. None of that Chudley Cannons rubbish - the Cannons may as well join the circus, with the quality of play they exhibited. Well at least they were good for a laugh, Draco mused. Yes, all of his sons would play Quidditch. Hell, even his daughters, if he had any. It would be a Malfoy dynasty. He could form his own team, have bragging rights when they swept the World Cup.

At this, Draco's eyes drifted toward the sprawling Malfoy Manor. Somewhere behind those walls his wife was dressing, making herself beautiful. He had to commend himself on his choice of spouse; not only was Cho Chang attractive and athletic, but she was also quite intelligent and had terrific poise and manners. Not to mention a good deal of discretion. All very necessary components of a Malfoy, even a Malfoy by marriage. They'd been married for almost seven years - their nuptials had been part of the rash of weddings that had taken place in the early months after the war. Most of Draco's surviving Hogwarts classmates were married around the same time - Goyle and Millicent Bulstrode's wedding had taken place only three weeks after his; and, of course, the famous (or infamous, as Draco liked to think of it) Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood fiasco a month after that, which purely by strange coincidence happened to be Cho's first foray into planning weddings.

Needless to say, Potter hadn't been all too thrilled with the prospect of a Malfoy planning his wedding but of course that loony wife of his had him whipped from the beginning, so he couldn't do anything but go along. Draco had to hand it to Luna, she didn't seem to have the capacity to think badly of anyone, even Potter's ex girlfriend - although that could be to her detriment. Draco chuckled.

Damien was weaving and bobbing, diving and climbing. He wobbled occasionally, and nearly slipped as his fingers groped for the makeshift Golden Snitch that Draco had special ordered from a higher-up at the Ministry's Department of Magical Games & Sports (of course a good inside threat also helped speed the ordering process). But Damien was certainly getting there. By the time he entered Hogwarts, he would be a shoo-in for the Slytherin House team. With some proper greasing of palms, Draco might be able to get Damien in for his first year. Show that Potter a thing or two, he would. Youngest Quidditch player in a century, indeed!

But it was definitely time for another baby. Draco felt a sudden heat rise within him, a tingling sensation as if he were being pricked with needles. Once again he looked toward the house. Perhaps he could catch Cho with her guard down, talk her into it. She'd been so busy with her wedding-planning business that it had been difficult to get her to commit to a date. But now, with the Weasley-Longbottom wedding being the last one for the next few months - until Seamus Finnegan and Hannah Abbott's wedding in December - this might be the opportunity he was waiting for.

"Draco, I'm going into town for awhile."

As if on cue, Cho walked up behind her husband and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. She started to withdraw her hand, but she felt the familiar and not altogether pleasant feeling of his fingers curling around hers. She straightened and put on a smile as he turned around.

"Damien, that's enough for now! Come down!" he called over his shoulder. As soon as the boy had safely descended and landed on the field, Draco returned full attention to Cho.

"I'm going into town for awhile," Cho repeated, graciously withdrawing her hand and acting as if she needed to make minor adjustments to her hair; a gesture she knew would please her husband.

Draco pulled himself to full height and smiled, cheeks flushed. "Of course," he said. "Whatever you want. Anywhere in particular?"

"Not really, I just feel like getting some air." Cho glanced over Draco's left shoulder at the advancing form of Damien, broom slung over his shoulder. "Maybe I'll take Damien along."

"Fine. But he should shower first." Draco kissed her cheek, inhaling her perfume. He recognized it as the expensive scent he'd brought her from Paris.

"That's not necessary, he's fine. Do you need anything while I'm out?"

"Actually, I did have an idea..." He leaned close to her cheek. "How about the two of us have a bit of time alone tonight?"

Daphne Louise Chang Malfoy. Her future daughter's name floated through Cho's head, as if on a marquee. If she indulged Draco, she might get something out of it for herself.

She managed a smile as she looked into her husband's cold silver eyes. "Perhaps," she said, tantalizingly. For once, the thought didn't send a chill down her spine.

"Excellent. I'll arrange for Lucretia to take Damien for the evening."

Hermione found herself strangely calm as she left the pharmacy with Ginny, carrying the home pregnancy test in a plain white paper bag. It had been an hour now since the conversation with Luna and while she'd been rattled then, now she had some time to get used to the idea. She could do this, she could have a baby. It didn't have to change all her plans, not completely anyway.

A small smile traveled across her mouth. With careful planning and research, she would find out everything she needed to know about being pregnant and having a baby, right down to her diet, doctor visits, babyproofing the flat, the right kind of formula to buy, cloth nappies versus store bought nappies - there were plenty of books out on the subject. Forget taking a maternity leave, she would work right up until the baby popped out of her. It would be fine. In fact, she wouldn't bother making the announcement to her boss until it was impossible to conceal the pregnancy. No need to get everyone nervous; she'd just started this new job, she wasn't about to take any unnecessary time off.

"Let's stop in here," she suggested to Ginny. They paused in front of Literati Books.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Books? Oh, Hermione, come on, let's go so you can take the test. You can look at books later." Ginny had put all thought of shopping for her honeymoon out of her mind. There would be other opportunities to shop, and she had a fine number of decent outfits to bring. Besides, certainly she would get at least one or two new things on the trip. That wasn't important; she was going to be an Aunt. She found herself almost as excited as if she were pregnant herself. She tugged on Hermione's arm, finally forcing her away from the bookstore window.

"Your flat is closer, we'll go there," she said. Hermione assented, but nevertheless Ginny held onto her arm until they were a good two blocks away in case she decided to make a run for it.