Wild Magic (Sequel)

Chapter 9: A Little Kick

"Duly noted," responded Draco.

From the other room they could hear Pansy call out, "Blaise, Draco, time for dinner!"

Pansy and Blaise had invited Draco and Hermione over to have dinner. It had been awhile since they had all seen each other.

"This is just like old times, except Blaise isn't the one who cooked." Remarked Draco, underneath his breath only loud enough for Blaise to hear, he said, "Thank Merlin, no one likes burnt things."

He only just glared at him.

"Tell me, do you like this place better or the apartment?" Asked Draco as he sat down at the table beside Hermione.

Pansy took a seat and started on her chicken Parmesan. "Oh, I don't know... here probably. We got a lot more room, a backyard, and we don't have worry about anyone accidentally walking in on us." She narrowed her eyes at Draco as she said the last part.

Draco sat his fork down and locked eyes with Pansy, "Once. That happened once, and it was an accident."

"Okay." Said Pansy, acting like she believed him.

The four of them dug into their food and reminisced in old times. After dinner they all stayed seated around the table and talked for awhile.

"Oh my!" exclaimed Pansy out of no where. "The baby she kicked! Blaise, come here."

Blaise practically jumped out of his chair and knelt down next to his wife. He placed his hand gently on her stomach and just a moment later he felt a little kick himself.

Hermione and Draco couldn't help but just watch in amazement, a smile spread across their faces they couldn't help but feel happy for their friends. A happiness they would one day get, but just not quite yet.

* * * * *

Later that night when Hermione sunk into bed next to Draco she let out a long sigh. Draco could tell that she was still bothered by what had happened earlier that day, who wouldn't be?

"Hermione." He mumbled as he turned around to face her.

"Yeah."

He rested his head against his hand and looked down at his girlfriend, "What do you like doing the most? What are you the most passionate about?"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Draco stopped her. "I can't be the answer... continue."

She rolled his eyes at his previous comment, "learning, reading, writing... I don't know Draco, just go to bed."

Ignoring that last part he said, "You should be a writer, it would suit you."

Hermione sat up straight in the bed.

"Hermione, are you alright?"

She got out of the bed and proceeded out of the room.

"What are you doing?"

She sat down at the kitchen table and used her wand to summon an old looking contraption with a bunch of buttons on it.

"What the Hell is that?" Asked Draco.

"My Mother's typewriter." Responded Hermione as she put a new ribbon in it.

"What does it do?" He further questioned.

"Type stuff out."

"Interesting," Draco moved closer to Hermione to see exactly what it did.

Hermione started to type, stopped, turned around and said, "Draco, go away I'm writing."

A bit taken back, Draco stepped away, "Okay, I'll be sleeping if you need me." He walked to the bedroom door turned around and stood there for a moment just to admire Hermione hard at work.

Author's Note:

Don't yell at me, I know it's been a long while since I've updated. I knew what I wanted to write out, but I didn't know how I wanted it said. I hope y'all can understand why I made Hermione a writer and not some ministry worker. Personally, I can't really picture Hermione working in the ministry her whole life. In my eyes, she would seem happier doing something she loves like writing and reading. Just wait for what I have in store for her in the next chapter.

-MC