68Draco
Seven Years Later
It was still an odd feeling for Draco to return to the Manor by Floo. Ever since his mother allowed him to Side-Along Apparate at the age of ten, it was the only way he'd travel longer distances. It made him feel like a real wizard to compress into thin air and reappear somewhere else, even if he'd wretch from it every so often.
For a little over a year, though, his primary mode of transportation had defaulted to Floo, but he had no issue with his predicament.
Circinus squirmed excitedly in Draco's arms as they stepped in front of their cottage's fireplace. The little one knew precisely what happened when they stood at the hearth. Transport by Floo was, quite possibly, his son's favorite activity.
"Spin! Spin!"
A warm, flushed feeling swept through Draco. He didn't know if he'd ever quite adapt to the rise of emotion he felt at hearing his son's voice.
"Yes, Circinus. Spin." An effortless grin materialized at Draco's lips as he looked down at the boy.
The fifteen-month-old child's chubby cheeks turned to face his father. The excited eyes staring at him were a mirror image of Granger's mahogany brown ones. With his spare hand, Draco rustled the mop of blonde hair atop his son's head.
Circinus quaked with excitement and Draco wouldn't dream of making his son wait any longer.
Grabbing a handful of Floo Powder, Draco tossed it into the fireplace and spoke, "Malfoy Manor." He gave his son another smirk as they stepped into the swirling flames.
They spun for only a matter of seconds, but Circinus grasped tightly to Draco's chest, squealing with joy.
Draco took a steady step out of the Manor's fireplace and nearly ran into his mother.
"My boys!"
Narcissa's hands clasped together and beamed at the two Malfoys before her.
"Mother," Draco gave her a polite nod, but Circinus could not contain himself. His new squeal nearly out-squealed his previous excitement shown for the Floo.
"Come here my little darling," Narcissa held her arms out, beckoning the child to her. Circinus opened and closed his tiny hands towards his grandmother until he got what he wanted.
Narcissa's disposition would always be that of a prim, proper lady, but her look had shifted over the years. Before, she would wear rich, rigidly starched fabrics for nearly every occasion, but now, she donned flowy robes that moved around her like air. Ever since the war, the sharp edges of Narcissa Malfoy softened and gave way to a truly happy witch.
"Circinus, guess who else is here?" Narcissa bounced the little one on her hip and walked out of the receiving parlor to an adjacent sitting room bathed in light. Out of sight, Draco heard shrieks of joy peel from his son.
He dusted his shoulders off from the fireplace before taking several long strides until he caught up to his mother and Circinus.
"Ah, Rebecca, so good to see you." Draco's smile was genuine at the sight of the surprise visitor. Mrs. Granger tore her gaze away from her grandson and looked towards the sound of her son-in-law's voice.
Narcissa handed Circinus over to Mrs. Granger, the toddler almost quaking with excitement at getting to do all his favorite things and see all his favorite people in such a short period of time.
"Hello, Draco," Rebecca bounced the little boy in her arms as she gave Draco's appearance a once-over. "My, my, Muggle attire really does suit you."
He glanced down at himself, not remembering what he even wore that day. With a fifteen-month-old, he was merely surprised he managed to find matching shoes.
When he assessed himself, he found he wore a slim-fitting, auburn, merino wool jumper with only a little bit of spit-up on it, which he waved away with his wand after spotting, and a pair of Muggle denims.
Narcissa evaluated the outfit herself, looking skeptical.
"You aren't wearing that to Pansy's wedding, are you?" his mother tsked. A part of him wanted to; it would drive Pansy mental.
"Of course not, Mother." Though her comment did prompt him to check his watch. He was doing okay on time; he had a little under two hours to get home, change into his dress robes, and make it to the Burrow before the ceremony.
He still couldn't believe Pansy agreed to have her ceremony at the Weasleys' hovel.
"Rebecca, what brings you to the Manor today?" Draco asked politely, crossing over to a coffee table decorated with scones and petit fours. He reached out to scoop one up, but the entire tray moved out his reach. To the side, his mother gave him a glare that said, 'Don't you dare ruin your appetite before Pansy's wedding on sweets.'
"Narcissa had the lovely idea for myself and Brian to stay the weekend since she and Lucius would be watching Circinus with you two off at the wedding," his mother-in-law cooed near his son's nose, producing fresh giggles from the boy. "We're having a grandparents' weekend."
"Yes, and Draco, your father needed to speak with you about the upcoming meeting this Monday with the investors from…" Narcissa's attention wandered up, as if the answer danced above her head.
"...Slovakia," Draco finished for her.
"Yes, your Father wants to speak with you briefly about that. Plus…" Narcissa raised a brow "...I'm sure Brian would appreciate a break from Lucius."
With her free hand, Rebecca waved Narcissa off. "Oh heavens, no. Brian absolutely adores Lucius. I'm sure he's trying to convince your father to let him use your potions at the practice."
His mother herded Draco towards the exit of the sitting room.
"Off with you now. You don't want to rush getting ready for the ceremony. Lucius is in his study."
Draco chuckled under his breath as he was unceremoniously steered out of the room. Before turning the corner, he glanced back, reveling at the sight of his son and his two loving grandmothers doting over him.
"Lucius, hear me out…"
Draco heard the voice of Mr. Granger coming from the open door of Lucius' study up ahead. The two were having a lively discussion by the sound of it.
"...You don't think there is any way to somehow disguise the potions you make for Muggle consumption?" Brian paused. Draco was familiar enough with his father-in-law to picture the stubborn, scrunched up face he likely bore. It had a striking resemblance to a face his own wife would make when she was particularly worked up on a topic. "We could frame it as holistic medicine!"
As Draco approached the door, his father let out a hearty chuckle. Much like Narcissa, the years had been kind to Lucius. The Malfoy patriarch had grown into a man who rediscovered his joy.
"Ah, Draco," Lucius called out from his desk. Brian stood opposite of Lucius, looking over papers scattered about.
His father's eyes scanned over his attire, much like how his mother had, and the signature Malfoy sneer materialized.
His parents were reformed in many ways, but they were still dreadfully judgemental about the Muggle clothing he now wore more often than wizards' robes.
"Don't worry, Father, I'm changing before the ceremony."
"Draco, tell Lucius that there is a real market to bring the work you're doing over to the Muggle world," Brian went on, looking eager. "Think of all the people it could help."
"I would, Brian, but your daughter would likely have us all arrested for improper trading or something or other." Draco smirked, coming to a stop alongside the desk with the other two gentlemen. "Not to mention, she'd be dreadfully cross with me for breaking wizarding law."
Mr. Granger took in a quick huff of air and let it out with a tight sigh. Hermione really did take after her father in many ways.
"Draco, for the meeting with Horvath and Varga on Monday, I'd like to give them a sample of the latest batch of our calming and sleeping draught hybrid."
The son tossed his head side-to-side in deliberation. "Has it made progress since Thursday? Last I checked, it still carried a dependency risk."
Lucius gave Draco a miffed look. "Of course it's made progress, otherwise I wouldn't suggest we show it."
Draco raised his hands in defense, but took no real offense. That was just how his father was, dreadfully serious and matter-of-fact. "Seemed like a fair question to ask."
Lucius focused on Draco, eagerly awaiting an answer. Draco was already feeling sentimental that day, but seeing his father invested in their work threatened to unravel him.
After the war, Lucius was the only Malfoy to face prison time for his participation as a Death Eater. He was too weak to be sent out on any missions during the conflict, but his involvement leading up to the war, and his inner circle status made it hard to refute that at least some time was deserved.
His father, surprisingly, welcomed it. The sentence ended up being only a year, and in a far more humane facility than Azkaban, but the details did not matter to him; he wanted to be accountable for his actions and emerge on the other side of the ordeal with the Malfoy name fully cleared. Draco and Narcissa had received commendations for their efforts in subverting the Dark Lord during his reign, and Lucius wanted to stand alongside them, without shame.
When Lucius was released from prison, Draco was in the midst of considering his career path, which seemed likely to be potions. His son's interest in potions, and also the fact that Draco made it clear that he did not plan to take over the family's business, ignited something within Lucius.
Draco's father was an exceptional potion maker, but never gave himself the opportunity to pursue it as a career. With Draco in a mastery program, Lucius was reinvigorated. The elder Malfoy spent all his free time concocting experimental brews and discussing them with Draco when he was home. The eldest Malfoy seemed awakened.
It wasn't until Draco graduated from his program that the pieces fell together. They came to find that the two Malfoy men made a noteworthy brewing team.
Coming out of his graduate program, Draco had his heart set on destabilizing the viciously corrupt potions market, with a focus on putting predatory brewers out of business. With Draco's vision and his father's knack for inspired concoctions, they had their seed. They were not likely to add to the Malfoy wealth with their endeavor, but that was never the plan.
Years later, they were by no means wealthier but had made an impact on the industry. Any potion that hit the market with addictive qualities would quickly find competition in the form of Malfoy and Son brews; their product delivering a better result with no negative side effects, and at a lower price. It conditioned the market to stop their predatory ways.
Draco loved what he did and was pleased to get to partner with his father on the business. But nothing compared to the look Granger gave him each day when he came home from work; brimming with pride at the path he had chosen.
"I trust you; if it's ready, let's show them. The research team believes Solstice Inc. is coming out with a potent and nasty calming variant. If we're ready to share it, it'll speed up our go-to-market timeline to compete with their release."
Lucius revealed the trademark Malfoy smirk, that to some, could be seen as sinister looking, but it was just appearances, and appearances could be deceiving.
"Precisely my thoughts. Very good, we'll show it on Monday."
Draco glanced down at his watch. Time was ticking, and, even if it would be a laugh, he really shouldn't show up wearing Muggle clothes to Parkinson's wedding.
"I'll swing by the Manor early with the Portkey."
Lucius wagged a finger. "Don't be late."
Draco couldn't help but give his father a mirrored smirk back. "I never am, and on that note," he took a step back, moving towards the door, "I must be off."
"Tell my daughter to stop working so hard," Brian called out to Draco, nearly at the door.
"I wouldn't dream of it," Draco laughed, knowing full well his wife would have a meltdown if she wasn't constantly in motion.
"Oh, Draco, tell my daughter-in-law that I'd like to see her sometime this week," Lucius added. "I acquired a rare, unpublished Futhark book that I'd like to get her take on."
Draco feigned a hurt expression. Lucius waved him off.
"You know she'd appreciate it more than you," Lucius told his son. Draco stifled a chuckle, knowing his father to be spot on.
Stepping back into the cottage, Draco was welcomed by its signature scent: parchment, lilacs, and, for the past year, the sweet scent that only permeated off of babies.
He drew in a breath, savoring the smells, hoping they would never fade.
The cottage was…somewhat tidy at present. There was a general chaotic nature to the home, but Draco made sure everything had its place, and Granger made sure the place had life.
Never in a million years would Draco have imagined living in anything but a sprawling manor, but there he was, happy in his cozy cottage with his wife and child. Once 'Marrying Hermione Granger' was crossed off his never-in-a-million-years list, he figured anything was fair game.
When the war was over and the dust settled, Draco emerged with his beacon of light. The two were nearly inseparable for a year, both returning back to Hogwarts to complete their N.E.W.T.s He was lukewarm on earning N.E.W.T.s but the prospect of flaunting around his war hero girlfriend and exploring dark corners with her was too great an opportunity to pass up.
Still, he graduated with six N.E.W.T.s, and, to everyone's great surprise, out performed Granger on his Potions exam, a fact he still reminded her of to this day.
It was her who encouraged him to further his education in the field of potions, even if that meant he would go abroad to Sweden for an entire year. On those grounds alone, he nearly shut it down, but Granger promised that if he went, she would visit every weekend and make it worth his while. She delivered on her promise, of course. The first weekend there she showed up at the doorstep of his student apartment, wearing a Muggle coat and a saucy little number underneath, blowing his expectations out of the water.
The night of his graduation, he proposed. They had discussed waiting, but there was no point. There would be no one else other than her. He felt a slight bout of trepidation that she would waiver, that she would say it was too soon, and they had their careers to think about. But that didn't happen. Under the lamp light on a walkway lining Stockholm Strom, Hermione Granger nearly murdered him by way of choking via a particularly lethal hug and silencing his screams with kisses.
When their laughter settled and tears dried, he slipped onto her ring finger the engagement ring his father had given his mother.
A year later, they were married and walking through the threshold of their cottage, their new home that Granger knew nothing about. It was his wedding present to her.
On the Malfoy estate they had Apparated to after escaping Gringotts, where Hermione told him she loved him, Draco commissioned a quaint cottage to be built. He worked with Granger's parents to hone in the coziness that was generally a foreign concept to someone who had been raised in a manor.
He'd never forget how her eyes gleamed with the hundreds of candles that scattered the floor and splayed out over the fireplace mantle. When he told her it was theirs, it would be their sanctuary away from the world, the place they could be together while she took over the wizarding world and he dismantled predatory potion making, she wept. She wept and reached out for his face, tearily kissing her new husband. He kissed her back, his new wife, Mrs. Granger-Malfoy, and he marveled at how he could be so lucky.
Draco looked around the room once more before moving out of the sitting room and towards their bedroom. He stopped. There was a sound, one he hadn't expected to hear.
The shower.
Granger had been called into an emergency meeting regarding a captive Croatian fugitive who was wanted by the Eastern European Alliance of Wizarding Kind. The prisoner, who the Ministry's Aurors took into custody that week, claimed he needed asylum. As a Senior Minister, she was called in for deliberation, but she made it clear to her colleagues, in the terrifying way Granger could, that she would not be missing Parkinson and Weasley's wedding. She promised Draco she'd meet him at the Burrow not a minute past six.
Yet, there he was, walking towards their ensuite bathroom, steam billowing out past the ajar door, his now wet and steamy wife just steps away.
The tap handle screeched, and the water stopped running.
A sliver of disappointment slithered through Draco; he thought a delightful shower shag would be quite nice, in fact.
Though, Granger in nothing but a towel also piqued his interest.
Nudging the bathroom door open, he settled his shoulder against the entryway, crossing his arms while admiring his wife.
"Granger," he drawled.
She nearly jumped out of her skin with fright. Her hand slipped momentarily on the towel that clothed her but recovered before it could fall away. Pity.
Those mahogany, honeyed eyes that were forever his, narrowed on him.
"Draco Malfoy, how dare you!" She tried to sound upset, but he knew her ticks and could tell she was rather pleased at seeing him.
He crossed the distance between them until she was secured between him and the bathroom countertop. His eyes poured over her, and she was more exquisite than ever; skin glistening with beads of water, hair dampened, trailing down over her chest, leading down towards her covered breasts.
"Back so soon?" He trailed a finger up her arm, his stare focusing on her exposed skin.
Granger let out an exasperated huff, drawing a smile from her husband.
"Honestly, I need to have a word with the Aurors' office. There was no need for me to be there!" Her eyes lit up with indignation. "It wasn't even Marko! It was some man who was Polyjuiced and Imperiused by Marko to take the fall for him. It's a wonder the poor man was able to fight the curse enough to ask for asylum otherwise the Aurors would have tossed him away."
Draco's wandering hand trailed her neck, and every so often, he'd let the knuckles of his hand dip and graze the exposed skin right above her covered breasts.
He was listening to her, of course, but he was a competent man who could do more than one thing at once.
"Whose head will roll come Monday?" Draco questioned, his voice holding back the heat building within at seeing his wife half naked and worked up.
"Probably Harry's! I'm sympathetic that he has new recruits, but come on, they didn't even follow protocols to detect any disguises. I mean, I quite literally walked into the holding room and saw the telltale glassy eyes of an Imperius. It wasn't even a well-performed Unforgivable!"
He leaned down and hummed against her neck.
"I don't know how you do it."
She pressed her body into his, edging her neck into the touch of his lips.
"Do what?"
He let his tongue flicker against sensitive skin and smiled. "Exist while everyone else is exceedingly far less intelligent than you."
Her hand trailed up his back until her fingers found the hairs at the nape of his neck. She drug her nails against his skin, sending fresh thrums throughout his body.
"That's why I married you," she purred, tipping her head back, enjoying his continued work along her neck.
"Because I'm so incredibly intelligent?" he nipped at her throat.
Her face turned until they were nose to nose. She gave him an appetizing look. "Because you can make me forget other people exist."
Draco returned a devilish smirk before leaning in once again to her neck. "Does my wife need to unwind?"
She feigned a shy nod, but he knew her too well. Granger was anything but shy when it came to their sexual escapades, but she also knew that shy look drove him wild.
With a swift motion, Draco had her by the thighs and lifted her bum onto the counter. She twirled her legs around his waist until her toweled core was pressed against his now incredibly sensitive length.
Reaching in between them with careful precision, Granger loosened the towel until it was a puddle of fabric at her sides.
Fuck it all. They were going to be late to the wedding.
Hermione
Parkinson Weasley reception
They were only ten minutes late, which really, when she considered her husband's proclivities, and if she was being honest, her own, was an accomplishment.
The ceremony at the Burrow was beautiful. It had become somewhat a tradition to have the Weasley children married there, but the festivities for Ron and Pansy's union outdid them all. Likely influenced by Pansy.
In typical fashion for these Weasley celebrations, a tent was constructed on the land just beyond the Burrow, but the material of this tent was unlike anything Hermione had ever seen. It glowed and pulsated like a bioluminescent creature in the sea, the gossamer walls of the tent flowing as if they were entering a structure on the ocean floor.
Inside, it was magnificent and cozy all at once, a perfect representation of Pansy and Ron.
Watching the two exchange their vows was odd. As a couple, their banter tended to be playful erring on the side of antagonistic. But when they made their commitments to one another, their expressions were soft and filled with happiness.
Pansy was dressed impeccably, of course. She wore a brilliantly white robe that borrowed from muggle fashion. The dress was made of matte silk which bore no seams, and had a ballerina neckline that exposed her collarbones. The fabric covered her arms down to her wrists, and its fit was snug until it hit her hips where it billowed out, down to the floor and into a soft train.
Ron wore fine robes himself, so much so Draco cocked a brow upon seeing him (a high compliment). Ron had joked in the past that Pansy made him a kept man, but that could only be true for a time. Ron found his knack in investing, specifically in new wizarding technologies, and even without Parkinson's wealth, he would now be independently wealthy on his own.
For Pansy and Ron, the journey towards marriage wasn't as direct as some of their friends, but the destination was all the same, and made proper sense. They complimented each other beautifully.
After the war, Draco would incessantly tease Pansy about the suspected crush she held for Ron. He would trick her into going to events, thinking it would just be Hermione, Draco, herself, and possibly Luna and Theo, but then every time, Ron would somehow get a last minute invite.
Hermione was rather certain Draco was not just teasing, but was urging a spark along. He did it in his typical Draco Malfoy fashion though, which meant it felt a bit like he was having a laugh at their expense.
Ron had never told Hermione directly, but according to Harry, during their seventh year, Ron and Pansy began 'hooking up'. They never made it official, but Hermione recounted the two never looking happier even if she didn't find out till later the reason why.
After Hogwarts, they faded out; Pansy went off to Italy to study transfiguration, seeing an opportunity to productize the practice, and Ron did a stint with the Chudley Cannons having improved greatly as a keeper in his seventh year on the team.
It was Ron's interest in new technology, and a lump sum paycheck for his season with the Cannons that crossed their paths again in Brussels. Pansy happened to be leading a talk on adapting Portkey technology with transfiguration ("Not an ace with transfiguration? Hate apparating, and need a ride? Carry a port device, touch it to any object, and get a broom!").
After meeting again at the conference, the two were on and off a bit, until something shifted between them. From that point on, they were inseparable. A year later, Ron proposed with the ring Pansy had put on reserve at Boutique du Grand Amour de Madame Voit.
When the ceremony concluded, dozens of floating champagne coupes took to the air. Draco plucked one as it passed and handed it to Hermione followed by a brief kiss to the neck which only made her exposed skin prickle with red patches.
It was a wonder that after all the years, any little thing he did to her would still set her ablaze.
After dinner, the Gamults, a wizarding band, began to play. Little groups conjugated around the dance floor, but no one seemed quite ready to dance.
Theo, Luna, Harry, Ginny, Draco and Hermione stood in a semi-circle group just beyond the dance floor, talking about their lives, reminiscing about the past. All the while, Draco brushed soft circles with his thumb against Hermione's hip, his warm touch radiating past the silk of her midnight blue dress.
"She-Weasel," Draco pulled focus from the banter of the group, getting Ginny's attention.
"Yes, Lord Malfoy," Ginny teased back. It had become their thing to never call one another by their actual names.
"I read that you were ejected from your latest Harpies match," Draco made a tut tutting sound. "Bad form, wouldn't you say?"
This evoked a throaty laugh from Ginny.
"Please, the Kestrels play dirty. They needed a dose of their own medicine."
"It said you shot a Termite Hex at one of their brooms," Draco added.
"Ginny!" Hermione gasped, scandalized.
"Technically, I also shot a Scabies Hex at Hornclun's body too, but I suppose I missed," Ginny merely shrugged, earning a toothy grin from Harry at her side.
"Potter, what are the rules on illegal hexing in Quidditch matches? Do Aurors have jurisdiction over such crimes?" Draco questioned, pulling Hermione a little tighter into his side for no other reason than to be closer to her.
Harry grabbed a passing coupe of champagne and chuckled.
"Even if I could, I wouldn't dare."
Draco cast a mischievous glance down at Hermione before continuing. "Perhaps you could have one of your new recruits carry out the charges."
Hermione's jaw tensed, remembering how earlier in the day, Harry's undertrained Aurors hadn't even checked for bloody Polyjuice contamination with their Marko capture. Her fiery stare met Draco's smirk. As always he was baiting her into a rise; for some reason, her getting worked up really did it for him.
"Yes, Harry, actually we'll need to speak on Monday about your newer Aurors…"
"Uh oh…" Harry gulped.
"That can't be good…" Theo contributed, laughing behind his drink as he took a sip.
"No work talk!"
Ron appeared at the edge of the group, pulling along his beautiful bride who had already transfigured her attire to a shorter dress covered with fringe that bounced with her movements, the material looking like white gold.
A chorus of congratulations lifted to the air at the approach of the couple of the hour. Ron snaked a hand around Pansy's waist, drawing her into him. She rested one arm around his shoulder with her other arm poised elegantly aloft with a glass of champagne.
"Pansy, what on earth is the tent made of!" Luna nearly burst with excitement at finally being able to ask the question that had likely been on her mind the entire evening.
The bride gave a cool smile, "It's proprietary, but, what I can tell you is we made a breakthrough in hybrid transfiguration. It only works with inanimate objects and living objects, but the tent is a prototype."
Luna's eyes went wide, giving Pansy another reason to smile.
"Isn't my wife a genius?!" Ron jostled Pansy lightly by the side, turning her smile into a soft laugh.
Draco gripped at Hermione's hip and leaned down by her ear. "My wife has her beat."
Hermione fought back a blush as they both turned back to the group.
The eight caught up for a bit, monopolizing the newlyweds' time. Pansy and Ron did not seem to mind; there were countless faces at their party they didn't even recognize.
A formation of floating cocktails and champagne hovered past the group and everyone without a drink moved to take a fresh one, with the exception of Luna.
"Wait, Luna, you didn't get a drink," Ron noticed, trying to follow the hovering drinks.
"Oh no, I'm alright," Luna said shyly at the same time Theo said, "She's good, thanks though."
Ron turned around with a quizzical look that was flushed with a bit of drink.
"Nonsense!" Ron declared.
Across from her, Luna's face went quite red. Hermione spied Theo and saw a deeply uncomfortable look spread over his face.
Hermione's eyes met Pansy's, then in quick succession, Ginny's. Even Draco seemed to understand what was going on at his shifting feet.
Pansy turned abruptly to her new husband, placing delicate hands on either side of his face, and kissed him. When she pulled back, he looked a bit dazed.
"Let's go meet the rest of our guests, shall we?" Pansy went on, Ron properly distracted and now up for doing whatever Pansy proposed.
Hermione found Luna's eyes and held them just long enough for Luna to let the briefest of smiles through, and a subtle nod.
In the distance, a new song took shape, its pace slower, the feeling more romantic.
The coupe of champagne lifted from Hermione's hand. When she inspected the incident, she found Draco placing his and her glasses onto a nearby table.
With a hand held out to her, he beckoned her to dance.
Draco was a wonderfully gifted dancer, whereas Hermione was clunky at best. But his years of practice by way of finishing school elevated them both to a pretty decent pair on the dance floor.
At the center of the dimly lit floor, his hand moved onto her hip, his other hand drawing her arm up until her hand was held level with her shoulder. She was treated to a signature Draco Malfoy smirk before he moved them into motion.
After a few sways, he leaned down into her ear.
"So," his voice was hushed, "do we think Luna is pregnant?"
Hermione grinned and angled her face so she could see him. "Yes, I think that is likely the case."
Draco let his eyes roll. "Leave it to Weasley to spoil the surprise."
She chuckled. "He's much better than he used to be."
He returned a serene smile and guided their steps in a new direction. "Yes darling, but some things never change."
"I happen to recall a certain Slytherin who changed," she pressed herself into his broad chest as he swayed her.
"That's because I met a certain Gryffindor who put me in my place," he reminded her with a cool look.
Hermione's honeyed eyes sought out the steel grey irises that acted like her own personal gravity.
"You changed me too," Hermione admitted, his attention narrowing before a debonair smirk materialized.
"Is that so?" Draco's hand moved steadily up her back, guiding her in the direction the two needed to go next.
"You hardened me, in a way I needed. I was too fragile before. You made me fearless."
Draco's bemused look faded to something more sentimental. The curve of his lips flattened, and his gaze evened.
"I can't imagine the man I'd be today without you, Granger." His head dipped down, his nose hovering over hers, all the while twirling them effortlessly. "You saved me."
He closed the fraction of space and met her lips with his, never ceasing the movements of their effortless dance.
When Hermione stayed mute, opting instead to study her husband with her heart thudding against her chest, he went on.
"I'd choose you every time, Granger."
The song went on and the two coasted across the floor. When the last bar of the song completed, the whimsical tune was replaced by scattered applause from appreciative guests.
Draco released Hermione in front of him but neither moved to return to their group. They lingered, taking another moment, just for the two of them.
The wizard before her was too exquisite to be called her own, but there he was, and there she was, basking in his love.
Her hand slid up his chest, her fingers twirled around his neck and edged his face down to her.
"I'd choose you, Draco Malfoy, every bloody time."
His steely eyes hovered just over hers. A smirk glimmered behind his look, and trickled down to his lips.
Their lips met again and this time, they savored in the moment, despite being front and center on the dance floor.
They didn't care who knew that they were deeply in love with one another. After winning the war, they couldn't be bothered by what anyone else thought of them.
Because they chose each other, and that's all that mattered.