Author: Tierfal PM
“We are not,” she announced, “naming our first-born son ‘Betelgeuse.’” A Dramione ficlet written for Marmalade Fever.Rated: Fiction K - English - Humor - Hermione G. & Draco M. - Words: 665 - Reviews: 107 - Favs: 312 - Follows: 15 - Published: 09-21-08 - Status: Complete - id: 4551745
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Author's Note: A birthday ficlet for Marmalade Fever! Happy birthday again! :D
The prompts were: Dramione, of course; witty dialogue; "You are not naming our son Betelgeuse"; and something orange. Hope you like!
(I've also podfic'd this sucker, just for fun—you can find the link to the MediaFire file on my profile. The podfic is actually why there's no beta on this one, 'cause I recorded it while my fantabulously amazing beta was at a party. XD)
Hermione arched an eyebrow, incredulity battling a twisted sort of amusement in her scowl.
"We are not," she announced, "naming our first-born son 'Betelgeuse.'"
"It'll grow on you," Draco promised.
"Tumors grow on you," Hermione retorted.
Draco shook his head mournfully. "What if," he gasped, "you have sworn off 'Betelgeuse' only to discover, when our stunningly beautiful offspring emerges into this splendid world of ours, that he is indubitably destined to be a 'Betelgeuse'?"
Hermione frowned and crossed her arms, protectively it seemed, over her stomach. "Not everyone in your family has to be named after a star," she informed her wide-eyed, innocently-blinking husband. "Tonks wasn't."
Draco paused, but this was a very rare sort of hesitation from him—a tactful one. "Tonks was a bit of a special case," he noted.
"But you've done the same thing that Andromeda did," Hermione countered, "in marrying a Muggleborn. So isn't the prospective not-Betelgeuse a special case just like Tonks?"
Draco was gazing at her in abject disbelief. "You really don't want to name a member of the Black family after a star?" he prompted. "Just think of the family reunions—he'll be surrounded by Leos and Lyras and Perseuses and Cassiopeias, and he'll have to wear a nametag that says 'John'? Do you want our prospective yes-Betelgeuse to feel like some kind of freak?"
Hermione massaged her temples in a wax-on, wax-off sort of maneuver. "If you insist on Betelgeuse for a boy," she decided, somewhat unsteadily, "then if it's a girl, she should be Perdita."
When Draco merely blinked, she explained wearily, "Hermione's daughter in A Winter's Tale."
Draco wrinkled his nose. "But that's so obvious," he said.
Hermione stared at him. "Are you trying to imply," she asked slowly, "that 'Betelgeuse' is subtle?"
Draco's shoulders slumped. "I guess we could always name him Gemini," he remarked wistfully. "Gemmy for short. Or Antlia. Or Cepheus. Or Eridanus."
Hermione picked up 100,001 Baby Names, which she suspected was impossible to read all the way through in less than nine months, and prepared to beat herself in the forehead until she succumbed to a blessed hardcover-induced oblivion.
"Or Vulpecula," Draco was sighing. "Or Scorpius."
Hermione stopped with the orange, cherub-flooded front cover inches from her cranium. "Scorpius?" she repeated. "I… can almost see myself tolerating that…"
Draco rocketed to his feet and thrust both arms triumphantly into the air. "He shoots," he crowed; "he Scors!"
"Wait," Hermione cut in hastily, "if you're going to abbreviate it to 'Scor', I don't know—"
But Draco was already victory dancing out of the room, possibly with intent of Flooing everyone he knew to announce that he had wheedled, weaseled, and hoodwinked Hermione into conceding to Scorpius.
She supposed that he was a Slytherin alumnus, after all.
Groaning, Hermione flopped down on the couch, the intimidating bulk of 100,001 Baby Names perched guilelessly on the cushion nearby, a dozen diaper-clad cherubs grinning cheekily up at her from the front cover's swirl of tangerine-colored clouds.
"What are you looking at?" she asked them.
The mother of a child named Scorpius or Betelgeuse, they seemed to answer smugly.
Hermione made a discontented noise, glanced around, and then bent double to address her stomach plaintively.
"Please," she whispered urgently. "For the love of all that is good, please, please, please be a girl."