At night, with Draco’s body curled around hers, she tried to sleep and often failed, her nerves always strung too tight, her thoughts always racing. She had a small window of time before she had to find a way to make the visible signs of pregnancy show and was at a loss for what to do. Sure, she could charm herself to create some sort of illusion over her stomach but wasn’t entirely convinced they would hold up under his constant close presence and scrutiny. Draco could never keep his hands off her, and if she asked him to, then he would grow suspicious. The only thing she could do for the moment was to continue to eat in excess away from his prying eyes, and let her body fill out a little more for the time being. It was working, to her relief—the results were slow to appear but unmistakable—her belly became a little more rounded and soft, and her limbs thickened slightly. Such minute changes that Pansy hardly noticed until Hermione mentioned it, and she left to wonder if her own husband had yet to take note.