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He placed the very large piece of paper in front of her and it took Hermione a long moment to understand she wasn’t looking at some important scroll, but an average piece of paper that had clearly once been folded several times but was now laid out flat by Draco.
It took her another long moment of skimming the small black text covering the paper to realize this was the information and warning pamphlet that came in her birth control potion box. She sat back in the dining chair and looked up at a very clearly distraught Draco.
He ran a hand through his already messy hair and began to pace in front of her. “I’m sorry, the box was on the bathroom counter and I saw that paper and it was open and I read it.”
Hermione looked at him quizzically. “That’s…okay?” She fiddled with one of the corners of the paper. “It’s just information on my potion prescription.”
“So you’ve read it too?” he asked and then nodded to himself before she could answer. “Yes, I knew you had. I knew there was a good reason you would be taking this poison—”
Hermione’s laugh bubbled out of her. “The good reason is that we aren’t ready for a child?”
He stopped pacing and looked at her with crazy eyes. “I know that!”
She placed her hands flat on the table in front of her. “Draco. You asked me to sit down for something important. What’s—”
He stepped really close to her and grabbed her hands, pressing them between his as he loomed over her. “Hermione, we can stop having sex. Or, I mean, there are other ways. I can pull out—and I know I said that once and didn’t, but I swear I’ll do it.”
She started laughing again. “Draco! What are you on about?”
“Stop taking it. Sex isn’t worth you dying.”
“What?” She screeched, pulling her hands from his and standing abruptly. “Draco Malfoy, are you saying you don’t want to have sex with me anymore?”
“I’m saying I don’t want you to die!”
She scoffed. “Darling, you’re good, but not kill me with your cock good.”
Draco slammed his palm down on a part of the pamphlet that looked particularly heavy on the word count. “This isn’t funny!”
Hermione studied the words between his fingers. Words like: risk of…heart attack…clots. And suddenly she understood.
She placed her hands on his chest, feeling his sharp breaths with every heavy rise and fall. “I see that modest pure blood, misogynistic upbringing failed you here too, didn’t it?” she whispered before placing a kiss on his cheek. “First of all, I’m not going to die. But yes, these are risks that are technically possible. There are a lot of them.” She forced him to sit. “Unfortunately, like in the muggle world, there isn’t a lot of interest in making things safer or easier for women. I mean, you could just get a vasectomy—”
“A what?”
“Oh. Muggle men can get a procedure done that makes you sterile until it’s reversed.”
He shot to his feet. “Alright. Let’s go.” He strode away, steps sure and quick towards the room that held the floo.
“Draco! Stop! You aren’t getting a vasectomy today!”
“Let’s go see your parents, they're doctors. They can do it.” He tossed the green powder in—
“Not that kind of MD!”
But he was already gone in a flash of green.
Hermione sighed and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. Then she smiled, imagining Draco asking her parents to give him a vasectomy and, chuckling to herself, followed after him.