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Ginny laid on the couch, wrapped in a sea of blankets, her face pale, fiery red hair matted to her sweaty forehead.
“I swear I’m dying,” she whined to Neville, clutching her incredibly pregnant belly as another wave of nausea rolled through her.
Neville, who hovered nearby holding another blanket, a damp cloth, and a look of sheer panic on his face, nearly dropped everything, fumbling for his wand to Accio a bucket.
“She’s sweating. Should she be sweating this much? Merlin, she’s overheating! Draco! DRACO!”
Draco popped his head in from the kitchen, peering at them. He rolled his eyes at Neville, “No need to scream, I’m working on the potion. Brewing is an incredibly delicate art, you know.”
Ginny Weasley had survived six overbearing brothers, an entire Wizarding War, her mother’s reaction to her relationship with two men (and one of them a Malfoy!), and a handful of seasons dodging bludgers with the Harpies but none of that had prepared her for pregnancy — or all of the horrid sensations, emotions, and bodily changes that come with it.
“Well, hurry up, you’ve been chopping the mandrake root for ages!” Neville snapped, turning back to Ginny with concern, dabbing her forehead with the cloth. “She looks worse than before!”
Ginny narrowed her eyes at him, “Are you calling me ugly?”
Neville froze, terrified, and started babbling frantically. “What? No! Of course not, Ginny! Merlin, no! No! No, your skin is glowing! You’re looking absolutely radiant!”
Ginny giggled, enjoying watching him squirm. It was too easy with Neville, he was so genuinely flustered.
“Leave the poor man alone, Ginevra,” Draco scolded from the doorway, “it’s not his fault he’s pathetically in love with you.”
Neville smiled sheepishly, running a hand through his hair as Ginny spoke, “Oh, as if you’re any less pathetic, Draco!”
Draco flushed, about to respond before he was cut off by Ginny’s groan. She clutched her side, her face twisting into a grimace.
“Gin, what is it?” Neville moved forward. “Is it the nausea again?”
She groaned, nodding her head. “I’m going to be sick.”
“We’re almost done, Gin, I promise,” Neville said quickly, “Draco, well you know how he is, he takes forever with his potio –”
“I swear to Merlin,” she interrupted impatiently, “if one of you doesn’t give me a potion in the next five minutes, I’m hexing both of you until you’re the ones who are pregnant!”
Draco cleared his throat, disappearing into the kitchen and Neville blanched, stumbling away to join him in the kitchen.
“I’ll come help you, mate," he said.
In the kitchen, Neville rushed about, gathering an assortment of random herbs and miscellaneous potion ingredients until his hands were full.
Draco groaned, stirring the cauldron with careful precision. “We don’t need any of that! Just grind the Bicorn horn!”
“Right,” Neville shuffled to the counter, his brows furrowed in concentration. He picked up his wand, ready to cast the needed spell.
“Not with magic, ” Draco scowled, “use the mortar and pestle! It has to be precise!”
Neville startled. “Magic is precise!”
Draco glared at him. “Be useful or get out!”
Neville debated whether he would rather stay with Draco and finish the potion faster or endure the wrath of a pregnant Ginny Weasley.
He shuddered, reaching for the Bicorn horn, glaring at Draco all the while, and began to grind it furiously.
“Merlin, I love her, but she’s bloody terrifying,” Neville mumbled, handing the powder to Draco once it resembled a thin, translucent dust. “Yesterday, she wouldn’t stop crying until I called her my prettiest flower.”
Draco peered at the powder with the scrutiny and disdain of Snape during first year before he carefully added it to the cauldron. He nodded as he spoke. “That’s nothing. Last week, she bit me, said I looked like a snack and then just bit me, right on the cheek!”
Neville grinned, his eyes softening. “I thought that was rather endearing.”
“I can hear you, you know!” Ginny’s voice rang out from the next room, as loud and clear as one of her hexes. “I’m pregnant, not deaf!”
Both men froze.
“The potion’s nearly ready, darling,” Draco yelled.
He turned to Neville. “We’d better get this right.”
They each turned to their tasks, working together in companionable silence.
“We’ll have to decide on a name soon,” Neville said after a moment, breaking the silence.
Draco didn’t look up. “I’ve told you already. Scorpius.”
Neville shook his head adamantly, “I’m not naming my child after a damned constellation,”
“It’s tradition! And I’m not calling our baby Fern or Thorn or whatever other plant or flower you pluck from your greenhouse!”
Ginny’s voice drifted over from the next room once more. “If you two don’t stop bickering, I’m naming the baby Tom Marvolo Riddle!”
There was a brief pause as they froze again, looking genuinely horrified, staring toward the direction of the couch where Ginny laid, now muttering something that sounded oddly like going to hex their bits off.
Neville paled. “She wouldn’t … would she?”
Draco grimaced. “She would. She really would, just to spite us.”
Neville shuddered, shifting his focus back to the potion. “Let’s just finish this.”
Draco muttered his agreement, adding thyme to the cauldron, stirring four times, and then adding the salamander blood.
Neville, one step ahead, reached for the jar of fire seeds and took out a handful, dropping one into the cauldron.
“Are you mad? One does not simply just toss ingredients into the cauldron like an animal!” Draco yelled. “If you’d paid attention during potions class in fourth year instead of ogling Ginny all the time, you’d know that!”
Neville glared, “As if you were any better, Malfoy!”
Draco glowered, yanking the fire seeds from Neville’s hand.
Fire Seeds were a highly volatile addition to the potion and needed to be stirred in slowly, one at a time, to avoid overheating. Draco stirred the cauldron two times, counter clockwise, adding the fire seeds slowly, allowing one minute in between each drop.
After a few moments, with the ingredients all added and the stirring finished, the concoction turned red, signifying its completion.
Neville sighed in relief as Draco turned off the heat and ladled the potion carefully into a small goblet.
“Here,” Draco said, walking into the living room and handing Ginny the potion, Neville following close behind. “This will help.”
Ginny sat up, grabbing the goblet, her eyes narrowing as she sniffed it. She drank it slowly, the two of them watching anxiously as color returned to her cheeks, sweat dissipated from her forehead, and her face lit up.
“That’s much better,” she grinned, “You live to see another day,”
Draco grinned back in response as Neville exhaled, the two of them shifting to cuddle against either side of her. Neville wrapped his arm delicately around her bump while Draco tucked a blanket around them, massaging her ankles.
Ginny snuggled against them. “I’ve got it,” she said, softly patting her belly.
They turned to her curiously.
She gently patted her belly. “Cordelia Daisy Luna”
“Cordelia …” Draco considered.
“Daisy …” Neville continued.
Ginny smiled, “It’s a girl, I know it. Mum said that she felt similarly when she was pregnant with me – all the nausea, the mood swings, the crying – but never with any of the boys.”
They sat quietly, contemplating.
“Well then … that’s… actually perfect,” Neville smiled, kissing Ginny's forehead.
Draco, for once, didn’t have a sarcastic comment. He reached for Ginny’s hand and placed a delicate kiss along her wrist. “It’s just as beautiful as you.”
Ginny felt tiny flutters beneath her belly, as she glanced between Neville and Draco, her heart full, their tiny family growing.
But then Draco spoke again, completely ruining the moment.
“Though, Cordelia Daisy Luna Longbottom-Weasley-Malfoy is quite insane.”