An Indefinite Amount of Forever (A Harry Potter Fanfiction--Dramione)

Mirum

      Nine months later...

Draco's eyes burned in his skull as he bounced the screaming little hellion in his arms. "Please stop crying," he begged. "Please."

She responded by opening her mouth wider, shutting her eyes tighter, and letting all Hell break loose.

The poor man was pooped. He hadn't slept properly in days. Mirum seemed to regard any moment her parents' attentions weren't 100% fixed on her as a wasted opportunity.

They had been forced to schedule sex. Hermione's idea. Whimsy took care of Mirum for the afternoon while Draco and Hermione snuck upstairs to be alone.

But even that was ruined.

"I'm going to fuck you so good," he said, kissing across her collarbone.

"Yeah...you..." Hermione yawned mightily.

"Oh no, don't..."

But it was too late. Draco yawned too, and in seconds, the two of them were passed out and drooling on each other. Granted, it had been a rather stunning nap, but hardly the way he had planned on exhausting his fiancée.

"Shh, shh," Draco pleaded. "What do you want? I'll give you anything." She had already eaten. Draco had changed her twenty minutes ago. And she absolutely abhorred her dummy. Every time they tried to give it to her she ripped it out of her mouth and threw it on the ground.

Her prospects as a future Beater were rather promising.

As if to prove this point, she launched her tiny fist at his chin.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. "I love you. I do. But you're a monster." He barely heard the Floo in the other room, signaling Hermione's return from her lunch with Ginny. He had hoped Mirum would settle down before Hermione returned home, so he could prove to her that it was okay for her to go out every now and then. He'd practically blackmailed her just to get her to go to lunch with Ginny. Their wedding was only a month away, and Hermione was more stressed than ever. She needed this.

Plus, it gave him an opportunity to bond with Mirum. At this stage in her young life, there wasn't much the two of them had in common other than shared DNA and a fondness for Hermione's breasts. But he could always establish a connection by holding her while she screamed, changing her soiled nappies, and letting her use him as target practice for her projectile vomits.

That said, he was anxious for her to get a little older so they could talk about Quidditch or something.

He continued to bounce their daughter while she screamed. His eyes were dry and red from not having blinked in ages, so he couldn't muster a proper greeting when Hermione entered the room. "How was Ginny?" he asked with a hollow voice.

"Fine. I mean not fine, exactly. I hexed her." She plopped down on the sofa next to him.

Deciding that a change in tactic was in order, Draco put the infant on his chest and rubbed circles on her back. Perhaps she just wanted to be burped. "Might I ask why?"

Hermione rolled her eyes—also dry and reddened from lack of sleep. "She bought Mirum a present."

Draco's movements paused. "I don't follow."

"Let me show you," she said, pulling something from her bag. "Here."

Draco finally blinked. It was a onesie that read, "My Parents Shagged Nine Months Ago, and All I Got Was This Stupid T-Shirt."

He narrowed his eyes. "Yeah. She's not wearing that."

"That's what I said." She rubbed her temples. "Did she take a nap?"