Hermione laughed as she watched as her Gryffindor husband gesticulated wildly in his conversation with Arthur.
"What are they talking about?" Fleur questioned as the two witches were spending some time with the children.
"To be honest, I have no idea. And with those two? Hard telling," Hermione replied with a shake of her head. "But Harry's definitely playing the part of Jonathan Carnahan well."
"'Ow did you convince them to dress up as fictional Muggle characters?" Fleur asked curiously.
"It was easier than you think. I didn't have to do any convincing with Harry as The Mummy is one of his favourite movies. It was a little more difficult with Draco, but then again, positive reinforcement," she winked at Fleur, "goes a long way."
"You minx," Fleur gasped in French with a scandalised look on her face before they both dissolved into giggles.
Looking out the window, Hermione nodded her head in her other husband's direction. "Can you really blame me for it though? Who would have thought that Draco would willingly wear khaki?"
Following Hermione's gaze, Fleur said, "'E is not my type, but I can see the appeal of the rugged look." Her eyes cut back to Hermione. "Plus, the whip is an added bonus."
Hermione grinned wickedly. "It is, isn't it?"
"What did they have to say about your outfit?"
"Draco loved the idea of me going as Lara Croft. Harry, on the other hand, was the one that baulked at the idea." Hermione smiled innocently. "A little more positive reinforcement and voilà!"
"Well, you wear it well," Fleur told her.
Hermione touched the hair that hung over her shoulder in a long plait. "So do you, Fleur. French National Team?"
"Oui! 'Ow did you know? Most people think this is from my team with Beauxbatons, but one of my cousins played professionally and made the national team, too."
Hermione snorted. "I'm married to a professional seeker and a quidditch nut. Plus, you've met the rest of the Weasleys."
"Touché," Fleur agreed. "Speaking of your quidditch nut..."
Hermione looked over her shoulder, smiling as Harry joined them. "Hey, you. Did you have a good conversation with Arthur?"
"I did, yes. How are you ladies doing? Not talking gossip?"
The corner of Hermione's mouth quirked up as she shared a look with the French witch.
"Us? Never," Fleur replied.
"Uh-huh, sure you're not." He didn't look convinced. Holding up his glass, he added, "Would either of you like anything to drink? I'm going to get another firewhisky."
"If there is still some elderflower wine, I would like another glass," Fleur said.
"Just some more of the plain apple cider, please," Hermione added.
"You don't want anything stronger, love?"
Hermione looked up from where she was charming toys with Fleur for the youngest children as Victorie chased Teddy around the Burrow's front room. "Huh?" She raised the glass in her hand. "Oh no, I'm fine."
Harry raised a surprised eyebrow. "You, my dear wife, do not just drink plain apple cider, with nothing in it. Let me get you something else."
He started to walk away, but Hermione's voice stopped him. "Harry, I'm okay with the cider."
"Are you sure?" Harry asked. He was confused. Usually, his wife would always have a glass or two of Charlie's fiery punch at the annual Weasley Samhain party, but she hadn't been near it all night.
She turned and gave Fleur an exasperated look before muttering in French about nosy husbands. As the other witch snickered behind her hand, Hermione looked back at said nosy husband and said, "I'm perfectly happy with my apple cider. Thank you."
"But what about Arthur's toast later?"
Hermione sighed. "I can toast just as well as the next person using cider."
Harry opened his mouth again, but this time Fleur cut him off. "'Arry, she is fine. Leave 'Ermione alone." The French witch had been living in England for so many years now that her English had significantly improved, but she still managed to drop the first letter in any word that began with 'h'. It always made Hermione giggle when it was hers and Harry's names.
"But she's my wife…"
"And perfectly able to take care of herself," Hermione told him. The arched brow she sent his way, reminded Harry of their blond husband. Shifting on his feet, he realised that his reaction to that particular movement would not help him at all in this situation. In fact, it would most definitely make things worse.
He relented. "You're right, my love. I was just surprised is all." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "I'm sorry."
Hermione smiled. "I forgive you. And there's a reason I'm just drinking plain apple cider, but I want to wait till Draco is here before I say anything."
"Why can't you tell me now? Is everything okay? You're not sick, are you?" Harry's eyes narrowed. "You're not…" His eyes widened.
"Took you long enough," Fleur chuckled.
Fleur shrugged. "Not until you started bothering your wife about her choice in drinks."
Hermione sighed. "I had hoped to wait for Draco to join us before the kneazle was out of the bag."
"Too late," Fleur muttered as Hermione's Slytherin husband finally made an appearance.
"I'm right here, love," Draco replied as he finally made his way over from his in-depth conversation with George. He tilted his brown fedora back before pressing a kiss to Harry's cheek. "What's going on?" He leaned down to drop a kiss on Hermione's head and righted the hat on his head.
"Well, I have a bit of news," Hermione said as she stood up from the sofa.
The concern on Draco's face made her heart skip a beat. "What is it?"
Hermione looked at Harry, the smile on his face lit up the room and tears glistened in his eyes. Straightening her shoulders, Hermione pulled out her wand and waved it over her shirt. "Finite Incantatem."
The plain black tank top she was wearing shimmered for a moment before an image appeared.
Draco's eyes dropped down to her abdomen. Seconds ticked by as he stared in shock. His wide, grey eyes flicked back up to Hermione's. "You're...? You mean we're…?" He shook his head. "You mean you're telling us you're pregnant by using a shirt with a baby skeleton on it?"
Hermione shrugged. "Surprise?"
Harry laughed. "You have been around Draco too long, you sneaky witch."
Draco whirled on Harry. "You mean, you knew?"
"I found out seconds before you did."
"And?" Hermione prompted.
Turning back around, Draco scooped her up into his arms. The movement knocked his fedora to the floor. "I love you so much, and I couldn't be happier."
"Thank Merlin," she whispered into Draco's neck.
Draco pulled back to stare down at her. "You really think we would be upset that you're pregnant?"
Hermione shrugged. "Well, I don't know whose baby it is, and your parents practically demanded that our first child was your heir and—"
A finger pressed against her lips silenced her rambling. Draco smiled softly at her. "What my parents think doesn't matter to me. Also, I couldn't care less who the father is of any of our children as they will be all of ours. We've discussed this, remember?"
"Right, right," she said once Draco pulled his finger back. She smiled weakly up at him. "I'm just nervous. There's so much that can go wrong with a pregnancy after what happened during the war."
Draco kissed her forehead. "If something comes up, then we'll deal with it together, okay?"
"Okay." Hermione nodded and kissed his cheek. "I love you too." She turned to her other husband. "Harry?" she asked as he still hadn't said anything since she revealed the image on her shirt.
He chuckled. "I figured the smile and tears were enough of an indicator. Our wife is pregnant with our first child, what's not to be happy about?"
She released Draco to throw her arms around Harry's neck. "I love you too, Harry."
Harry returned her hug. "I love you," he glanced at Draco over her shoulder, "both of you."
"Molly is going to be so 'appy when she finds out," Fleur commented, reminding the trio that they weren't alone. "'Ere is your 'at, Draco," she added, handing over Draco's hat.
"Any children we have won't be Molly's grandchildren," Draco pointed out.
"Doesn't matter," Harry reminded him.
"Did someone say grandchildren?" Molly's voice asked excitedly from the doorway.