Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hermione

December 21, 2010

New York City

Hermione wakes slowly, stretching like a cat in the warm, luxurious bed. A smile tugs at her lips as the quiet sounds of her friends bustling around the suite drift through the door.

The door creaks open, and Daphne peers cautiously around the corner. Her face lights up when she sees Hermione stirring, and she immediately turns to call over her shoulder. “She’s awake! Let’s get this party started!”

Luna and Harry burst into the room with unrestrained enthusiasm, piling onto the bed beside her, while Pansy trails in more sedately.

Harry, predictably, breaks into song at a volume far too loud for the early hour—especially with his face near her ear. “Happy wedding day to youuuuuuu!”

Hermione laughs, leaning against his shoulder as Daphne hands her a mimosa, the glass bubbling cheerfully. Pansy finishes pouring her own drink, shooting a mildly disapproving look at Harry.

“You look lovely, Hermione,” Luna says with a dreamy sigh, one hand resting gently on her heavily pregnant belly. “Your aura is glowing, not a Wrackspurt in sight—just perfect for your wedding day.”

“She does look wonderful,” Pansy agrees crisply, smoothing the sleeve of her impeccable dressing gown. “But if you could refrain from going into labor at any point today, that would be wonderful.”

“Whatever will be, will be,” Luna shrugs with a serene smile. “As I keep telling August, Orchid and Hyacinth will arrive precisely when they mean to.”

“Right,” Harry says briskly, casting a Tempus charm. “Hair and makeup will be here in about an hour, so you’ve got plenty of time for breakfast. And, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, the room service here is top-notch.”

When Hermione insisted on following tradition—spending the night before the wedding apart and not seeing Draco until she walked down the aisle—Draco had booked the honeymoon suite at the Mandarin Oriental. Because of course he’d have to go with one of the most expensive hotels in New York, she thinks with a smile.

They’d also decided to spend their wedding night and the following night here, postponing their actual honeymoon by a few days to spend Christmas with Scorpius.

She never would have guessed that Harry Potter of all people would turn into a militant wedding planner—but he had. His attention to detail and near-obsessive timelines had been invaluable as she and Draco planned their wedding.

Their year-long engagement is a stark contrast to Theo and Harry’s whirlwind timeline, with just a month between the proposal and their Las Vegas elopement. Even more dramatic is Candy and Luna’s story—they skipped the engagement entirely, marrying under the stars just three days after they met.

No, she and Draco had been content to take their time. Once they’d admitted their feelings, things had moved quickly enough. A longer engagement allowed them to settle into their new relationship and, most importantly, gave Scorpius plenty of time to adjust to the changes in their little family.

Hermione takes a deep breath as she looks around the room at her friends.

Two years ago, Harry had been her only close confidant, with Luna on the periphery of her life. Now her eyes brim with happy tears as she takes in this eclectic, loving group.

She and Harry were closer than she ever thought possible—more like siblings than anything. Luna had become one of her best friends after marrying Candy and moving to New York. Her otherworldly manner, which had once unsettled Hermione, now felt like a breath of fresh air.

Her relationships with Daphne and Pansy had blossomed as well. Over the past year, the two couples had set up standing Portkey reservations, trading visits monthly. They’d grown close enough that Daphne would be standing as a bridesmaid, while Pansy—ever the contrarian—would split her time between the hotel and Draco and Hermione’s house before standing on Draco’s side at the wedding.

“Thank you,” Hermione whispers, her voice thick with emotion. She clears her throat and tries again, steadier this time. “Thank you all for being here. You mean so much to me, and I love you.”

Daphne and Harry offer her watery smiles, their eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Luna beams, tears streaming freely down her cheeks—undoubtedly aided by her pregnancy hormones. Even Pansy, ever the stoic, seems suspiciously emotional.

“I suppose you’re alright, Granger,” Pansy mutters gruffly, pointedly avoiding Hermione’s gaze. Hermione notices her swipe at her cheek but says nothing, unwilling to call attention to the rare display of vulnerability. A knowing smile spreads across her face, though. Coming from Pansy Parkinson, that’s as good as an I love you, too.

A knock at the door interrupts their leisurely breakfast, prompting Harry to huff in exasperation as he checks his meticulously planned schedule. “There’s nothing scheduled at this hour,” he grumbles, muttering under his breath as he strides to answer the door.

The moment the door swings open, his eyes widen. “Did he buy the entire florist?!” he exclaims, stepping back to allow two delivery boys inside.

One carries the largest vase of roses Hermione has ever seen—lush, velvety red blooms cascading elegantly in a display that practically exudes romance.

The other holds an equally enormous but delightfully contrasting arrangement, a riot of colorful daisies, roses, carnations, and asters arranged in cheerful, unrestrained chaos.

Hermione stares at the extravagant floral arrangements as they’re placed on a side table, the sheer abundance of blooms filling the room with a sweet, heady fragrance. The contrasting displays—one regal and composed, the other bright and wild—feel so perfectly them.

“Merlin,” Daphne breathes, leaning closer to inspect the roses. “We’ll have to put these under a strong Stasis charm so you can keep them forever.”

Pansy rolls her eyes, though even she seems begrudgingly impressed. “Draco’s showing off, obviously. You’d think he was trying to set a world record.”

Hermione laughs softly, shaking her head as she steps toward the table, her heart already thudding with anticipation. “There’s probably a note.”

Harry, now thoroughly over his initial confusion, pulls a card from the extravagant vase of red roses and hands it to her with a flourish. “Here you go, Madam Bride. I’ll spare you the dramatics of reading it aloud.”

Hermione unfolds the card, immediately recognizing Draco’s sharp, elegant handwriting. A soft smile spreads across her face as she reads silently.

Hermione, Darling,

Sometimes I still can’t believe this is real—that in just a few hours, I’ll watch you walk toward me so we can begin our forever. I promise to spend every day earning the privilege of having you by my side.

Yours, Draco

Her breath catches as she holds the card to her chest, warmth flooding her at his words. Draco had never been one for flowery speeches—he always preferred actions to elaborate declarations—but every word he wrote felt deliberate, genuine, and full of love.

Luna sighs happily, dabbing at her tears with a napkin. “I didn’t even read it, and I’m crying!”

“Probably the Nargles,” Pansy mutters, though her tone lacks its usual bite.

Before Hermione can respond, Harry plucks the second card from the cheerful bouquet of colorful blooms and waves it teasingly. “And this masterpiece of floral chaos must be from our favorite tiny human.”

Hermione laughs as she takes the card, immediately noting Scorpius’ wobbly, painstakingly careful handwriting, with Draco’s guiding hand evident in a few places. This one, she reads aloud:

Dear Mama,

I picked dese flowers because dey make me happy, just like you do! Daddy says today is one of da happiest days of our lives, and I fink so too!

I love you soooo much, and I’m so glad you’re my Mama.

Love, Scorpius (and Pesto, and Cookie, and Mari!)

Hermione presses a hand to her mouth, her eyes stinging as tears threaten to spill over. “Oh, my heart.”

“That boy is going to make me cry,” Daphne whispers, brushing at her eyes. Even Pansy turns suspiciously quiet, inspecting the chaotic bouquet with a soft huff that doesn’t quite mask her fondness.

Hermione clutches both cards tightly, already imagining them framed on her desk at home—Draco’s steady, unwavering love and Scorpius’ bright, boundless joy. It’s everything she could have ever wanted—everything she never dared to dream she’d have.

“Well,” Harry says, clearing his throat as he claps his hands together, visibly trying to recover from the emotional moment, “it’s official. You’re marrying two Malfoys today, and neither of them has an ounce of subtlety.”

Hermione laughs through her tears, swiping at her cheeks as Luna beams serenely, her own tears still streaming freely. “Best day ever,” Luna declares, patting her belly. “And the babies agree.”

Hermione shakes her head fondly, tucking the cards safely into the blooms. “It really is the best day ever.”

“And it hasn’t even started yet,” Harry adds with a smirk. “Now, finish your breakfast and let’s get you ready. You’ve got a big day ahead!”

Hermione takes a deep breath, her smile wide and genuine as she looks around at her friends and the flowers—a perfect reflection of the two people who love her most.

“Let’s do this,” she says, her voice steady and sure.

As Harry ushers the group into action, the room brims with excitement and love. Hermione thinks, I already feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

After hours of pampering and primping, Hermione steps in front of the full-length mirror, finally able to take in her entire wedding day look at once.

Her breath catches as her gaze trails down her reflection—from the soft curls swept elegantly atop her head, to the delicate lines of her makeup, to the exquisite silhouette of her gown. Her eyes linger on the ludicrously expensive, yet undeniably beautiful Christian Louboutin heels that Draco insisted on buying her after she glanced at them for more than two seconds.

The earrings and bracelet from the set Draco had given her last Christmas pair perfectly with the dress—though she’d forgone the necklace to avoid clashing with the neckline.

Scorpius’ ring still held its usual pride of place on her right hand, but her left felt oddly bare without her engagement ring. She’d given it back to Draco the day before so it could be magically joined to her wedding band, with a series of charms woven into the metal—spells to link it to Draco’s ring, ensuring they’d always be connected.

She hadn’t known exactly what she was looking for when dress shopping—only that she hoped to find something reminiscent of her mother’s wedding gown. And somehow, she had.

Days of searching had led them through what felt like every bridal shop in New York and London. Luna, Pansy, Daphne, and Theo had trudged alongside her as dress after dress failed to feel right—too flashy, too simple, too not her. On their way home from yet another fruitless outing, a quiet vintage bridal boutique tucked into a corner of the Upper East Side had caught her eye.

The moment they stepped inside, the dress had stopped them all in their tracks. A vision from the 1960s, the gown looked like it had been made for royalty—a perfect blend of timeless elegance and quiet charm. She’d known—they’d all known—it was the one before she even tried it on.

The fabric flows like liquid moonlight, a soft ivory satin that gleams with every subtle movement. The bodice is structured, sculpting her figure with elegant restraint, while intricate beadwork cascades down the front in shimmering patterns of lace, gemstones and pearls.

Wide, ribboned shoulder ties add a softness to the gown’s regal lines, the silken drapes falling gracefully down her arms. The beadwork continues into a bejeweled cape that flows behind her, transforming into a sweeping train that glimmers like starlight. With every step, the dress seems to dance with her—a vision of understated grandeur and vintage magic.

Her arms are bare—a deliberate choice on her part. It might be unconventional for a winter wedding, but it’s a magical venue, and warming charms exist for a reason.

“It looks like you belong in a fairy tale,” Harry murmurs from the doorway, his voice reverent.

Hermione smiles at him in the mirror before turning and pressing a kiss to his cheek as he comes to stand beside her. “Thank you, Harry—for everything. I don’t know what I would have done without you this year.”

Harry clears his throat awkwardly, his voice softening. “Yeah, well, I don’t know what I’d do without you–ever. So, consider this payback for all you’ve done for me.”

“Oh, Harry,” she whispers, thanking the gods once again for charmed makeup as her eyes threaten to tear up for what feels like the hundredth time that day. She pulls him into a fierce hug that he returns in kind.

“Two years ago,” she muses quietly, pulling back to look at him as she straightens his red bow tie, “would you have ever imagined we’d be here?”

Harry laughs, glancing down at the wedding band on his finger. “No. But I don’t think I could have conjured all of this in my wildest dreams, anyway.”

An hour later, Harry and Hermione wait in the bride’s room at the venue. A soft knock sounds at the door, and Harry straightens, glancing back toward the suite’s entrance. “There’s our cue.”

Hermione nods, smiling to herself. “It’s time.”

Harry grins, offering her his arm with an exaggerated flourish. “Your chariot awaits, madam.”

She laughs, slipping her arm through his. “I’ll take it.”

As they step into the corridor and begin the short walk toward the garden atrium where the ceremony will take place, the weight of the day begins to settle over her. The hall is hushed, her footsteps muffled by thick carpet. Hermione can already imagine it—candles glowing like starlight, ivy and roses twining through the enchanted glass ceiling, a crowd of their coworkers, friends and found family waiting.

And at the center of it all—Draco.

“You nervous?” Harry asks softly as they near the doors.

“A little,” Hermione admits. “But it’s a good nervous.”

Harry squeezes her hand. “You’ve got this.”

Hermione smiles up at him. “I’m not walking alone, am I?”

“Not a chance,” Harry replies firmly. “I’m right here with you–always.”

The doors ahead crack open slightly as the music begins to swell—soft, lilting notes drifting through. Harry pauses with her just at the threshold, looking down at her one final time. “This is it.”

Hermione takes one last steadying breath, her heart full, her resolve sure. “Yes. It is.”

And with Harry at her side, she steps forward, ready to begin forever.

Draco

“Daddy, you ‘wake?”

Draco smiles as he turns over, propping his head on his hand to look at his son. “I don’t think I ever went to sleep, Scorp.”

“Too ‘cited?” Scorpius grunts a little as he tries to climb onto the bed, having a harder time of it without his usual running jump. He giggles when Draco grasps the back of footie pjs and hauls him up.

“I am,” Draco concedes, fighting the urge to shake his head as Crookshanks curls up at his feet and Mari swoops in to settle on a bedpost. He still isn’t quite sure how he ended up with a bloody menagerie in the house.

His son’s face lights up with a beaming smile. “Me too! Mama’s going to look so pretty!”

Draco pulls Scorpius close, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “She definitely will.”

The scent of bacon and coffee drifts up the stairs, causing Draco’s brow to furrow in confusion.

Scorpius rolls his eyes dramatically when he notices. “It’s Saturday, Daddy. We still have pancakes—even if you and Mama are getting married!”

“I know that, Scorp.” Draco laughs. “But who’s cooking?”

“Uncle Candy’s already here,” Scorpius explains as he jumps to the floor. “Come on!”

Draco climbs out of bed and follows his son downstairs, tying his hair back into a messy bun as he goes. True to Scorpius’ word, Candy is in the kitchen, dressed in his usual starched Western wear—even at eight o’clock in the morning. If Draco didn’t know better, he’d swear the man slept in his boots and hat.

Candy moves fluidly between tasks, a phone balanced between his ear and shoulder. He ends the call just as Scorpius barrels into the room, Draco trailing behind at a more leisurely pace.

“Time to rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!” Candy exclaims, his signature grin firmly in place. “We gotta get you hitched today.”

“That we do,” Draco replies with a small smile as he pours himself a cup of coffee. He gestures toward the phone Candy slides into his pocket. “Everything alright?”

“Right as rain,” Candy assures him. “Just checkin’ on Lil’ Mama.”

Draco marvels once again at his best friend’s constant, unflappable nature. He knows for certain he’s never been that calm a day in his life. There’s no way he’d be as composed as Candy if Hermione were mere moments away from giving birth to twins.

“Thanks for being here today,” Draco says as Candy flips the bacon with a flick of his wand.

“I don’t know where else you think I’d be,” Candy laughs. “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”

They all jump slightly as Theo apparates directly into the kitchen—his long standing argument that family should be exempt from anti-apparition wards winning out yet again.

After their whirlwind Vegas wedding, Theo and Harry had officially moved into the house next door, having spent most of their relationship renovating the property Theo had bought years ago but never used. Not that it mattered much, Draco thinks dryly, since they’re still in his house all the time anyway.

“Oh, thank the gods, there’s coffee!” Theo exclaims, shoving his sleep mask up onto his head, clearly having apparated with it still on.

They linger over breakfast, talking and laughing as they always do. In many ways, it feels like any other Saturday morning. After all, the wedding isn’t until later this evening, and none of them will need long to get ready.

Once breakfast is cleared away and everyone is dressed, they head out to enjoy their day. Theo leaves for a spa appointment, dramatically proclaiming the necessity of “relaxation and proper prep” before the wedding. Draco and Scorpius, with Candy in tow, make their way to their usual park for Saturday flying practice.

After an intense best “two out of three” Seeker’s game with Candy acting as referee, Draco and Scorpius decide to make a quick stop at the florist.

Draco wastes no time selecting his flowers, opting for the largest bouquet of roses the florist can assemble. As he writes the card to accompany his selection, Candy takes Scorpius around the shop, the little boy eagerly pointing out blooms for his own bouquet. The florist seems completely charmed by Scorpius, following his every whim as he picks out the most colorful, chaotic arrangement Draco has ever seen.

“It’s perfect, and Hermione will love it,” Draco thinks with a smile, taking his son back into his arms when Candy hands him over to make another phone call.

Scorpius carefully fills out the card for his Mama, his little tongue poking out in concentration as he painstakingly uses his “best handwriting, Daddy!” Draco helps him spell most of the words and gently guides his hand to shape a few tricky letters, but Scorpius insists on writing it himself—knowing Hermione wouldn’t have it any other way. Though he’s only just started kindergarten at his magical primary school and is still mastering the basics of writing, the pride radiating from him is unmistakable.

With the flowers ordered and the cards written, Draco and Scorpius join Candy on the sidewalk just as he finishes his call. Correctly guessing that Luna was on the other end, Draco shoots his best friend an anxious look.

“I’m not sure what we’ll do if Hermione and I both lose a friend to labor on our wedding day,” Draco remarks dryly.

Candy chuckles at Draco’s apprehension. “Don’t get your panties in a wad, Lover Boy—I’m just checkin’ on my girls.”

As they leave the florist to go back home, Scorpius babbles animatedly about all the "super cool" things they’ve done that morning—his game-winning catch at the park, the funny shopkeeper at the florist, and how “Mama is going to love our flowers, Daddy!”

Draco hums in agreement, his gaze soft as he listens. Scorpius’ uncontainable excitement is contagious, but beneath it all, there’s a quiet certainty settling in Draco’s chest. This day is about more than the ceremony or the celebration—it’s about the life they’ve built together and the future they’ll continue to share.

By the time they reach the house, afternoon sunlight spills through the windows, golden and warm, casting a serene glow over the familiar surroundings. Draco glances down at Scorpius, who’s now practically vibrating with excitement, and feels a rush of affection so overwhelming it nearly steals his breath.

Candy claps him on the shoulder as they step inside. “Alright, Jellybean,” he drawls, his grin widening. “Time for lunch. Then we gotta get you all gussied up–can’t have you late to your own weddin’!”

Theo apparates in behind them, much more calm after his morning at the spa. “It’s almost showtime!” he trills.

Draco chuckles, shaking his head as he scoops Scorpius into his arms. “Come on, Scorp, let’s go!”

As the four of them walk down the hall, the air hums with anticipation. In just a few hours, Draco knows, everything will change—but only for the better.

A couple of hours later, Draco shrugs on his tuxedo jacket and adjusts his emerald green bow tie, ensuring it sits perfectly straight. He steps back from the mirror, giving himself a once-over. “Alright, Scorp, the only thing left is my hair—up or down?”

Scorpius hums thoughtfully, his little legs swinging as he perches on the edge of the bed. Still dressed in his t-shirt and joggers, he looks utterly relaxed. Draco has wisely decided to save the tiny tuxedo for the last minute, knowing full well that it would have no chance of surviving until the ceremony otherwise.

“What about up and down?” Scorpius suggests, tilting his head as he studies Draco’s reflection with thoughtful scrutiny. “And I’ll match you!”

“Good idea,” Draco agrees, pulling the top part of his hair back into a sleek knot while leaving the rest to fall neatly to his shoulders. A few shorter strands frame his face—pieces that used to bother him but have since grown on him, thanks to Hermione’s fondness for them. He styles Scorpius’ hair the same way, charming it into place with a flick of his wand.

When they make their way downstairs, Theo, Candy, and Pansy are already waiting, while his mother and Penny have left for the venue.

Candy lets out a sharp whistle, his grin wide and approving. “Lookin’ good, boys!”

“Although, I must say,” he adds with a flourish, gesturing to his own hair, “great minds think alike!”

His best friend has braided back the top half of his locs, leaving the rest loose around his shoulders, giving him a polished but effortlessly cool look. Theo, noticing the unintentional coordination, pouts dramatically. “I should do a quick hair-growing charm so I can match too!”

Pansy rolls her eyes, her tone dry but amused. “Theo, when have you ever wanted to match anyone?”

As Draco watches his friends, a deep sense of gratitude washes over him—not only for their presence beside him today but also for the decision he and Hermione made to prioritize comfort—especially important in Luna’s case–over rigid bridal party coordination. It’s a choice that now allows everyone’s unique personality to shine through. The women are dressed in styles and shoes of their own choosing, provided their outfits include touches of emerald green or deep Christmas red. Meanwhile, Draco and the other men wear standard tuxedos with black shirts, though each had been left to select their own shoes, as well as a red or green tie and pocket square, to add their personal flair.

Scorpius will match Draco almost perfectly, down to his tiny tuxedo, with one key difference—his shoes. While Draco opted for sleek new dragonhide oxfords, Hermione had found their son an adorable pair of black, brushed satin high-tops that complement his outfit beautifully. Theo, naturally, found a way to stand out with the world’s most outrageous pair of dress shoes—covered in black sequins and adorned with small spikes—paired with a bold red bow tie. Candy remains true to form, donning his signature cowboy boots—his formal black snakeskin pair—and a bolo tie with a deep green stone on the slide. His hat, however, has been set aside until the reception. Pansy, ever the picture of understated elegance, chose a sleek black satin dress paired with tasteful emerald jewelry.

They arrive at the venue with less than an hour until the ceremony begins. Tony—who is officiating—paces nervously, his notes clutched tightly in one hand as he mutters to himself. Draco and the others wisely give him a wide berth, settling into their room to wait.

Once Scorpius is dressed—utterly charming in his tiny tuxedo, looking like a miniature version of Draco—Penny and Narcissa step into the room. Penny’s sharp eye and Narcissa’s graceful approval both sweep over father and son, ensuring every detail is perfect before they head to their seats. Draco notices his friends quietly slipping out, giving him a private moment with his mother and Penny–who in many respects has held more of that role than Narcissa ever did.

Narcissa steps forward first, her emerald green gown shimmering faintly in the soft light. Her expression holds an uncharacteristic softness—one Draco hasn’t seen often but has come to treasure in recent years. She reaches out, brushing an invisible speck of lint from his lapel, her hands lingering a moment longer than necessary.

“You’ve grown into the man I always hoped you would be,” she says quietly, her voice steady but tinged with emotion. “Strong, devoted, and capable of building the life you deserve.” She hesitates briefly before lifting her chin. “For a long time, I didn’t truly understand what real strength was, but now I do. And it’s in you, Draco. It always has been.”

Draco swallows hard, placing his hand over hers before leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Thank you, Mum. That means more than you know.”

She pulls him close, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I love you, my dragon.”

He clears his throat, his voice quieter as he responds, “I love you too, Mum.”

Narcissa’s lips curve into a faint smile. Her gaze shifts to Scorpius, who beams up at her, his tiny bowtie slightly askew. “And you, Scorpius,” she says, bending slightly to press a kiss to his forehead, “you’re the heart of this family. Never forget how much you are loved.”

“I won’t, Nana Cissa,” Scorpius replies earnestly, clutching her hand for a brief moment. Narcissa straightens, her composure gracefully slipping back into place. With a regal nod, she steps back. “I’ll leave you to it,” she says, her voice regaining its usual poise. “Penny has a few words, I’m sure.”

As Narcissa glides from the room, Penny steps forward, her wide eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Draco crouches down slightly to meet her at eye level. She straightens the red silk skirt of her suit before reaching up to adjust his tie, her touch both gentle and firm.

“Penny has watched nearly every second of Master Draco’s life,” she begins, her voice trembling slightly. “And there is being so much Penny is wishing she could have stopped or taken away. But then Penny is remembering that all of those things are making Master Draco who he is now, so they were being important—even if they were being painful.”

Draco’s throat tightens as Penny’s words settle over him. She offers him a soft smile, her voice lowering even further. “You is going to be a wonderful husband for Miss Hermione, just like you is already a wonderful father and a wonderful man. Miss Hermione and Master Scorpius is lucky to have you, and Penny knows you is lucky to have them too.”

“I am,” Draco says, his voice rough with emotion. “More than I can ever say.”

Penny reaches out, patting his cheek with a tenderness that nearly undoes him. “Penny loves you, Master Draco. Always.”

Draco pulls her into a gentle hug, one hand resting lightly on her small shoulder. “I love you too, Penny. Always.”

When they part, Scorpius tugs on Penny’s sleeve, his silver eyes wide with affection. “I love you, Penny!” he declares, throwing his arms around her waist.

The house-elf beams, hugging him tightly before stepping back to brush at her eyes. “Penny loves you too, Master Scorpius.” She straightens her posture, her tone turning brisk and practical. “Alright,” she says, “you is ready, Master Draco. Penny is going to find her seat now.”

As Penny turns to leave, Draco watches her go, his chest filled with a profound sense of gratitude. He glances down at Scorpius, who grins up at him, his excitement as bright as ever.

“Ready, Scorp?” Draco asks, his voice steady once more.

“Ready!” Scorpius replies, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Draco takes a deep breath, his heart swelling with anticipation. “Let’s go, then.”

Hermione

Hermione peers through a gap in the door, watching as Luna and Daphne take their places at the front of the room, leaving space for Harry to stand behind her once he’s walked her down the aisle.

Her gaze roams the garden atrium, scarcely knowing where to settle. The space looks exactly as she’d envisioned: deep red roses and trailing ivy from Narcissa’s garden in France, intertwined with holly and mistletoe grown by Neville in Hogwarts’ greenhouses. The greenery is accented by floating candles, their soft glow bathing the room in warm light, while charmed snowflakes—Scorpius’ enthusiastic suggestion—drift lazily from the ceiling, disappearing before they reach the guests.

Though her heart aches with the absence of her parents, Hermione feels a profound sense of joy as she surveys the room, filled with so many people who matter to her and Draco. The Hogwarts contingent is well-represented: Professors McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick sit together, while Hagrid, already sobbing into a massive handkerchief, occupies an entire seat and half of another. Neville and Hannah Abbott sit nearby, joined by Lee Jordan and his boyfriend, Seamus Finnigan. Kingsley’s commanding presence is softened by Andromeda at his side—their relationship no longer a secret—while their shared smiles speak volumes. Teddy perches between them and Narcissa, with Penny flanking Narcissa’s other side.

From MACUSA, the entire Auror Department has turned out in force, joined by Draco’s colleagues from the DMLE. Mrs. Weston, Judith, and Septima mingle effortlessly, their faces glowing with happiness. Madame Laurent is in attendance with her husband and Celeste, as is her assistant Lorraine. The sight of them all makes her realize just how much her life has grown and changed since moving to New York.

As the doors prepare to open, Hermione shifts her focus to the front of the room. Her lips curve into a smile as she spots Pansy, Theo, and Candy—a beautifully eclectic group if there ever was one, their personalities shining in every detail of their attire and presence. But in the end, her eyes land on the two people who matter most: Draco and Scorpius.

As the music swells, Hermione steps forward, her hand tucked in Harry’s arm, and her eyes lock with Draco’s. The world narrows, every sound and sight fading into the background until there is only him. Standing at the end of the aisle, framed by the glow of the candles and the gentle swirl of enchanted snow, he looks as though he belongs in some timeless, ethereal painting. His silver eyes gleam with emotion, his steady gaze grounding her, and the smile that tugs at his lips feels like coming home.

Scorpius bounces excitedly beside Draco, a tuxedo-clad Pesto in one hand and his other hand gripping Draco’s. His grin could rival the sun, and his bright eyes dart between Hermione and Draco, as though he’s soaking in every detail of this moment.

Hermione’s heart feels impossibly full.

When she reaches Draco, Harry presses a kiss to her cheek and steps back to his place behind her. Draco extends his hand to her, and as she takes it, he squeezes her fingers gently, his expression softening into something so tender it steals her breath.

“You’re breathtaking,” he murmurs, his voice low enough for only her to hear.

“So are you,” she whispers back, a small smile curving her lips.

A soft throat-clearing interrupts their quiet moment, and they both turn toward Tony, who stands with a slight grin, his notes held loosely in one hand. His warm brown eyes twinkle with good humor as he gestures for them to face him fully. “Alright, lovebirds, save some of that for later. We’ve got a ceremony to get through.”

The room chuckles softly, the tension lightened by Tony’s easy charm. He shifts into a more serious tone as he begins, his voice steady and rich. “Today, we’ve come together today to witness a magical union between Hermione Jean Granger and Draco Lucius Malfoy—a bond not just of love but of trust, respect, and a shared future. What we’re about to witness is a soul-bonding, a ceremony as old as magic itself, that unites two magical cores into harmony, a reflection of the deep connection they already share.”

He raises his wand, a quiet hum filling the room as the air around them begins to shimmer faintly with iridescent light. The magic radiates gently, swirling like sunlight caught in water, wrapping around Draco and Hermione delicately. It’s warm and calming, yet tingling with power.

Tony gestures for them to exchange their rings before they take each other’s hands. As their fingers entwine, the magic brightens slightly, the shimmering golden and silver tendrils of light flowing between them, connecting them in a glowing arc.

“Hermione, Draco,” Tony continues, “this ceremony isn’t about binding you to one another—it’s about honoring the bond that already exists. It’s about strengthening the foundation you’ve built and the promises you’ll make today.”

Draco smiles softly at Hermione, his silver eyes gleaming with emotion. When Tony nods, he begins the ancient vows they’d found in a book about soul-bonding, his voice low and steady but filled with feeling.

“Hermione Jean Granger, you cannot possess me for I belong to myself. But while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give. You cannot command me, for I am a free person. But I shall serve you in those ways you require and the honeycomb will taste sweeter coming from my hand…"

Their magic wraps around them as he continues, and before she knows it, she’s made it to the second half of the vows in her own repetition.

“…I pledge to you that yours will be the name I cry aloud in the night and the eyes into which I will smile in the morning. I pledge to you the first bite of my meat and the first drink of my cup. I pledge to you my living and my dying, each equally in your care. I shall be a shield for your back and you for mine.”

As their words echo through the room, the gold and silver magic intensifies, swirling faster around them. It winds gently up their arms and encircles them like a protective embrace, warm and radiant. Hermione feels it settle deep into her chest, the magic embedding her promises into her very soul.

Tony lowers his wand slightly, his smile widening. “Together, please repeat after me.”

Draco and Hermione speak as one, their voices steady and harmonious, as they finish out the vows. “This is my wedding vow to you. This is the marriage of equals.”

At their final words, the magic surges outward in a wave of warmth and light, shimmering across the garden atrium like sunlight through mist. It lingers in the air, a visible reminder of the promises made and the union formed.

Tony smiles warmly as he gestures for them to unclasp their hands. “And just like that, your bond is sealed. What you’ve created here today can never be broken.”

Scorpius, unable to contain himself any longer, lets out an excited cheer, and the guests chuckle in response. Hermione and Draco turn to him with matching smiles, overwhelmed by their love for him.

Tony chuckles, addressing the room as he closes the ceremony. “And now, by the power vested in me by…well, mostly by my big mouth and your faith in me…” The room laughs again, and Tony grins. “I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride, Draco—but let’s be honest, I doubt anyone could stop you.”

Draco doesn’t wait another second. His hands slide to her waist as he pulls her close, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that feels like home. The room erupts in cheers, but Hermione barely hears it. All she feels is Draco—his love, his warmth, his steady presence grounding her in this perfect moment.

As they part, Scorpius bounces on his heels, waving Pesto in the air. “Yay, you did it!”

“We’re not quite done yet, ladies and gentlemen,” Tony says as the cheers subside. “Today isn’t just about the bond between Draco and Hermione—it’s also about their bond with Scorpius, individually and as a family.”

Draco crouches down, holding his hand out to Scorpius. “Ready, Scorp?” he asks softly.

Scorpius nods, his silver eyes wide and gleaming with excitement. He turns to hand Pesto off to Theo, who takes the stuffed dragon with a smile.

“Ready, Daddy,” he says as he takes Draco’s hand.

Scorpius looks up at his father, then at Hermione, his silver eyes sparkling as brightly as the enchanted candles floating above them.

Tony steps forward, holding out his wand. “Now, Scorpius, are you ready to be part of this bond?”

“Yes!” Scorpius chirps, his voice clear and bright in the quiet atrium. “I love Daddy, and I love Mama, and we’re already da best family, but I wanna do magic too!”

Laughter ripples softly through the guests, but Hermione can’t take her eyes off Scorpius. Her heart feels like it might burst as he looks up at her with so much love and trust.

Tony smiles warmly, lowering his wand to Scorpius’ height. “Alright, then. All you have to do is hold on to your daddy and your mama, and make your promises.”

Scorpius carefully places his free hand in Hermione’s, his tiny fingers gripping hers tightly. She can feel the slight tremor in his touch—whether from nerves or excitement, she can’t tell. She smiles at Draco when he takes her other hand, uniting the three of them.

“Scorpius,” Tony says gently, “do you promise to share your happiest moments with your family and hold on to them when times are hard?”

Scorpius beams, his voice ringing with clarity as he replies, “I promise, Mr. Tony!”

“And do you promise to stand by them, no matter what?”

“Yes, I promise!” Scorpius exclaims, bouncing slightly on his toes.

Hermione feels Draco’s hand tighten around hers, and when she looks at him, she sees the glimmer of unshed tears in his eyes. Her throat tightens as Tony speaks again.

Tony smiles, his gaze warm as he straightens. “With these promises, the three of you are not just bound by magic, but by love. You are a family in every way that matters.”

The glow of magic intensifies, swirling around them like a warm embrace. This time, a shimmering blue tendril emerges, intertwining with Draco and Hermione’s silver and gold—a radiant manifestation of Scorpius’ magic. The little boy gasps softly, his wide eyes reflecting the brilliance as he watches the magic settle into place, weaving itself into the very fabric of their bond.

Hermione crouches down, cupping Scorpius’ face with both hands, tears streaming freely down her cheeks. “I love you, Scorp. So, so much.”

“I love you too,” Scorpius whispers, flinging his arms around her neck as she pulls him close. “I’m so glad you’re my Mama.”

Draco kneels beside them, wrapping his arms around them both. He presses a kiss to the top of Scorpius’ head and then to Hermione’s temple. “I love you both so much,” he murmurs, his voice just loud enough for the three of them.

They linger in that embrace, wrapped in each other and the lingering hum of magic from the soul-bonding ceremony. This moment is more than the joining of two lives—it’s the creation of a family, woven together by love and magic.

When they finally pull apart, Scorpius looks up at them, his face alight with pure joy. “Can we dance now?”

Hermione laughs, brushing a tear from her cheek as she nods. “Of course we can, love. But only if you save me your first dance.”

“And me,” Draco adds with a smirk. “We’re a package deal, after all.”

Scorpius giggles, clutching their hands in his tiny ones as he bounces on his heels. “‘Kay! All three of us!”

Hermione shares a tender glance with Draco as they rise to their feet, their little family standing hand in hand at the center of their world. It’s everything she’s ever dreamed of—and so much more.

Draco

As the magical glow of the soul-bonding ceremony fades, the lingering hum of magic feels like a gentle heartbeat, thrumming in the air. Guests rise from their seats, the soft rustle of movement blending with quiet laughter and murmured congratulations. Hermione takes one last glance around the garden atrium, her heart full as she squeezes Draco’s hand. Beside them, Scorpius clutches their free hands, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Can we go now?” Scorpius whispers, his silver eyes darting eagerly toward the enchanted pathway leading to the reception area. “I want to dance and eat cake!”

Draco chuckles, crouching slightly to meet his son’s eyes. “Patience, Scorp. Good things come to those who wait.”

“But Daddy,” Scorpius replies with exaggerated exasperation, “I already waited forever!”

Hermione laughs, crouching to Scorpius’ level. “We’re going, love. But first, we have to make an entrance—together.”

Scorpius perks up at that, his grin widening. “’Kay!”

Draco straightens with a smirk, adjusting his emerald green bow tie. He glances at Hermione, his voice softening. “Ready, Mrs. Malfoy?”

Hermione’s heart flutters at the sound of her new name. “Always.”

She’d originally planned to hyphenate her name, a choice Draco had fully expected and supported. But when Scorpius casually mentioned how excited he was “for their names to match,” her plans had shifted. The thought of him believing she wanted to keep part of herself separate from their family was unimaginable. Smiling at the memory, she’d joked with Draco that her mother, ever the traditionalist, would have been thrilled with her decision.

They step onto the glowing garden path together, Scorpius firmly in the middle, holding their hands. The sound of distant music grows louder as they near the reception space, and Hermione can feel the hum of anticipation building.

On cue, the doors swing open to reveal the little family framed by the golden light spilling into the reception hall. A cheer rises from the crowd as they step forward, Scorpius leading the way with an enormous grin. He waves enthusiastically with his free hand, Pesto tucked under his arm, while Hermione and Draco follow, their joined hands a quiet but powerful symbol of their bond.

The room erupts into applause, and Hermione can’t help the wide smile that spreads across her face as she takes in the sight of their friends and family, gathered together in celebration. Candles float above the tables, casting a warm, magical glow over the space. The band strikes up a lively tune, and the energy in the room feels electric.

Draco leans toward her as they step further inside, his voice low and full of warmth. “Well, Mrs. Malfoy, it seems our party is off to a good start.”

She tilts her head to look up at him, her smile softening. “It’s perfect.”

Scorpius tugs on their hands, drawing their attention. “Come on, Mama, Daddy! Let’s dance first!”

Laughter ripples between them as they let Scorpius lead the way to the center of the room, where the band transitions seamlessly into a slower song. The crowd begins to form a circle around them, and Hermione’s heart swells as she realizes this moment isn’t just about the two of them—it’s about the family they’ve created.

Draco sweeps her into his arms for their first dance as husband and wife, while Scorpius stands proudly beside them, swaying happily in place with Pesto. Around them, the world feels brighter, warmer, and infinitely more magical.

The music wraps around them like a soft embrace, the lilting melody blending with the glow of enchanted candles floating above. Hermione rests her head on Draco’s shoulder, her eyes closing for just a moment as she lets the rhythm guide them. His hand presses firmly yet gently against her back, grounding her, while their fingers interlace in a perfect, natural fit.

“You know,” Draco murmurs, his voice low and teasing, “I think they’re all staring at us.”

Hermione lifts her head to meet his gaze, her lips curving into a soft smile. “Let them stare. I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Draco’s eyes soften, his thumb brushing gently over her hand as they continue to move in perfect harmony. Around them, their guests look on with smiles of their own, the joy in the room palpable.

Draco slows their movements, releasing Hermione’s hand to crouch in front of Scorpius. “Alright, love,” he says softly, holding out his arms. “Ready to join us?”

Scorpius beams, his grin so wide it crinkles the corners of his eyes as he nods enthusiastically. “Yes!”

Draco smiles, scooping him up effortlessly. Scorpius wraps his arms around Draco’s neck, Pesto now squished between them.

Draco rises to his full height, holding Scorpius securely with one arm as he reaches for Hermione with the other. “Room for one more?” he asks, his voice warm.

“Always,” Hermione says, stepping closer and resting a hand on Draco’s shoulder as her other hand comes to rest on Scorpius’ back.

The three of them sway together, a little less coordinated but infinitely more perfect. Scorpius giggles as Draco twirls them gently, his laughter ringing like music of its own. Hermione catches Draco’s eye over their son’s shoulder, and the look they share is one of pure, unfiltered happiness.

The room fades away entirely, leaving only the three of them in their own little world. It’s not the choreography of a perfect first dance, but it’s theirs—and that makes it perfect.

As the song draws to a close, the guests erupt into applause and cheers, the sound pulling them back into the moment. Scorpius looks around in awe, his tiny chest puffing with pride as if the applause is all for him.

Hermione presses a kiss to his temple, unable to resist. “You’re the best dance partner, Scorp.”

Scorpius giggles, his cheeks flushing pink. “You too, Mama! And Daddy is really good at spinning.”

Draco chuckles, setting Scorpius down gently but keeping him close. “Only because I had such excellent partners.”

“Mama,” Scorpius whispers conspiratorially, “can we have cake now?”

Hermione laughs softly, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead. “Soon, love. But first, Daddy and I have to finish saying hello to everyone.”

Scorpius pouts for half a second before perking up again. “‘Kay! But don’t forget about da cake!”

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” Draco assures him, taking Hermione’s hand as they lead Scorpius back toward the edge of the dance floor. The band strikes up a more upbeat tune, inviting the rest of the guests to join in, and the party begins to shift into full swing.

After greeting their guests, Draco and Hermione found Scorpius dancing exuberantly with Pansy and Daphne before gathering him for the ceremonial cutting of the cake. Scorpius had devoured his slice with impressive speed before dashing back into the crowd, where he was now dancing with Tony and Judith, his laughter ringing out above the music.

Draco leans back in his chair, his arm draped around Hermione’s shoulders as she rests against him. He presses a kiss to her hair, and she sighs contentedly. “Was today everything you wanted it to be, darling?” he asks softly.

She smiles, the curve of her lips brushing against his neck as she presses a kiss there. “Better than my wildest dreams.”

After a few quiet moments, he takes her hand and leads her back to the dance floor. They move together in an easy rhythm, dancing with the same contented grace that he had once teased Tony and Judith for displaying.

Draco’s gaze drifts over the lively scene around them, a warm smile tugging at his lips as he watches their friends and family enjoying the celebration. Daphne twirls and dances with wild abandon, her extravagant red gown catching the light as she moves. Her spirited energy is in sharp contrast to Pansy, who stands nearby, her expression impassive. To an untrained observer, Pansy might seem utterly disinterested, but Draco recognizes the subtle quirk of her mouth as a sign of her amusement at her wife’s antics.

Nearby, Theo, Harry, and Scorpius are locked in an animated dance-off, their boisterous laughter echoing across the room. Scorpius mimics their exaggerated moves with gusto, his tiny tuxedo slightly rumpled but his face aglow with pure joy.

Candy–his Stetson returned to its rightful place–and Luna have finally left the dance floor, settling back at their table. Luna balances serenely on her husband’s lap, her head resting in the crook of his neck as he holds her securely. Her flowing green gown cascades to the floor, its ethereal design doing little to disguise the prominent curve of her belly. Draco is amazed again by Candy’s unshakeable calm and Luna’s quiet resilience. Carrying twins at nine months while being part of a wedding couldn’t be easy, yet she’s handled it all with remarkable grace.

Andromeda and Kingsley dominate a corner of the dance floor, their near-professional moves drawing appreciative glances from onlookers. Teddy spins nearby in Narcissa’s arms, her careful guidance helping him master the steps of the dance.

Draco and Hermione burst into laughter when Tony and Penny float past, an unlikely pair who nonetheless seem to be enjoying themselves immensely as they attempt a complicated dance routine. Penny’s tiny stature compared to Tony’s solid frame makes their efforts even more endearing.

Eventually, Hermione notices that Scorpius is starting to flag. For the first time all night—aside from his brief pauses for cake and dinner—he’s off the dance floor. He’s with Narcissa, curled against her shoulder, his little head nodding as sleep overtakes him.

“We’ll take him, Narcissa,” Hermione says softly, reaching out for the little boy.

Narcissa smiles as she carefully transfers him into Hermione’s arms. “I’ll take him home as soon as you’re ready,” she offers warmly.

Draco drops a kiss to his mother’s cheek in thanks before following Hermione to the suite where she had gotten ready earlier. By the time he enters, Hermione is already seated on the couch, cradling a drowsy Scorpius against her.

Together, they read him a bedtime story from the book Hermione had thoughtfully packed with her things. Scorpius listens with heavy-lidded eyes, his small hand clutching the edge of Hermioner’s dress as the familiar cadence of her voice soothes him.

“Just two sleeps, right?” Scorpius asks through a wide yawn, his silver eyes struggling to stay open.

“That’s right,” Hermione assures him gently, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. They had explained earlier about their mini honeymoon—a two-night getaway before returning to spend Christmas at home as a family.

“Nana Cissa, Auntie Pansy, and Auntie Daphne will all be at home with you,” Draco adds, meeting his son’s gaze. “And Penny too, of course.”

Scorpius nods, his voice barely a murmur. “‘Kay.”

Hermione leans down to press a kiss to his temple. “Two sleeps, then we’ll be home, love.”

Draco echoes the sentiment with a soft kiss to Scorpius’ cheek. “We love you, Scorp. Sweet dreams.”

After another round of goodnight kisses and whispered “I love yous,” Penny and Narcissa arrive to take him home. Hermione stands by the door, her hand resting on Draco’s arm as they watch their son leave, his small form tucked securely in Narcissa’s arms.

As the door closes softly behind them, Hermione turns to Draco with a contented smile, her heart full. The quiet room feels like a world apart, the distant hum of the reception fading into a gentle backdrop.

Draco watches her closely, the warmth in her honey-brown eyes sparking something deep within him. He steps closer, his hands finding her waist as if to anchor them both. “Mrs. Malfoy,” he murmurs, his voice rich with affection. “Finally, some peace and quiet.”

Hermione’s lips curve into a smile, her fingers curling into the lapels of his tuxedo jacket. “I think we’ve earned it.”

Draco’s smirk softens into something more tender, his silver eyes tracing her face as though committing it to memory. Gently, he brushes a loose curl from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. “You’re stunning,” he says, his voice low and full of reverence.

Heat rises to Hermione’s cheeks, but her heart swells at his words. “So are you,” she whispers, leaning into his touch.

Draco’s thumb brushes over her cheekbone as he leans in, capturing her lips in a kiss that is soft yet brimming with promise. It’s not a kiss of urgency, but one steeped in love—a quiet affirmation of everything they are to each other. When they part, Hermione rests her forehead against his, her eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze.

“I can’t believe we’re finally here,” she says softly.

Draco smiles, a look that lights up his entire face. “Here,” he murmurs, “and everywhere else we’re going. Together.”

Hermione cups his face, her thumb tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone. “I love you,” she says, her voice a gentle vow.

Draco presses another kiss to her lips, his response quiet but resolute. “I love you too.”

For a moment, they simply hold each other, letting the weight of the day settle over them. Then Draco steps back, his hand sliding down to hers, a gleam of mischief sparking in his eyes. “As much as I’d like to keep you all to myself,” he says, his voice teasing, “I have a plan, and it starts with us leaving.”

“Leaving?” Hermione arches a brow, her curiosity piqued. “Whisking me off already, Mr. Malfoy?”

Draco grins, tightening his hold on her hand. “I am, Mrs. Malfoy. Let’s just say our first honeymoon suite is waiting, and I plan to make our first night as husband and wife unforgettable.”

Hermione’s laughter spills into the quiet room, bright and full of joy. “I suppose I’ll have to trust you, then.”

“Always,” he replies, guiding her toward the door.

As they step back into the hallway, the hum of the reception grows louder, blending with the faint strains of music. They retrieve Hermione’s cape and slip toward the exit, unnoticed by most. Harry and Theo, however, intercept them near the door.

“You two sneaking off already?” Harry asks, pulling Hermione into a quick hug while Theo clasps Draco’s shoulder with a grin.

“Time to call it a night,” Draco says smoothly, his eyes glinting with purpose.

Harry smirks. “We’ll handle everything here.”

Hermione places a hand over her heart, gratitude shining in her eyes. “Thank you, Harry. Truly.”

“Of course,” Harry replies with a smile. “Now go. Enjoy yourselves.”

Theo waves them off with a dramatic flourish. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Draco snorts, his smirk deepening. “That leaves us with plenty of options.”

As laughter ripples between them, Draco and Hermione step into the crisp night air. The city lights glitter like scattered diamonds, and the soft glow of enchanted lanterns along the walkway gives the moment an almost dreamlike quality. Hermione shivers slightly as the cool breeze brushes her skin, but before she can say a word, Draco shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over her shoulders, casting a wandless warming charm over her for good measure.

“Wouldn’t want my wife catching a chill,” he murmurs, his hand lingering at her back as he guides her toward the waiting car. Muggle hotels call for Muggle modes of arrival, after all.

Hermione tilts her head up to meet his gaze, her smile soft and full of love. “You’re too good to me.”

Draco presses a kiss to her temple, his voice a low rumble. “Not nearly enough.”

The driver opens the door, and Draco gestures for Hermione to step in first, his hand brushing against hers as she settles into the seat. He follows close behind, and the door closes softly, sealing them into their own private world.

As the car pulls away, the reception fades into the distance, replaced by the quiet hum of the city. Hermione leans into Draco’s side, her head resting on his shoulder as his arm wraps securely around her.

“Are you going to tell me what you’ve planned now?” she asks, her tone light with playful curiosity.

Draco smirks, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You’ll see soon enough, princess. Patience.”

Hermione huffs softly but doesn’t press further, content to revel in the warmth of him—her husband.

When they arrive at the hotel, Draco doesn’t hesitate before he sweeps Hermione out of the car and into his arms, ignoring her half-hearted protest as she wraps her arms around his neck.

“Draco! People are staring!”

“Let them,” he says simply–his voice low and possessive–as he strides toward the elevator, his silver eyes gleaming with intent. “You’re my wife. If I want to carry you into forever, who’s going to stop me?”

Her heart skips at the words “my wife,” and when the elevator doors close, sealing them in, she forgets about the world outside.

When they reach the honeymoon suite, Draco unlocks and opens the door with wandless spells and carries her over the threshold. He moves into the softly lit room, and she takes in the champagne and glasses on one side table, the romantic glow of candles and the rose petals scattered across the bed.

“Did you apparate over and do this when you said you were going to the restroom?!” Hermione giggles.

Draco gives her a smug look as he gently sets her feet on the floor. “Maybe…”

Before she can say another word, she feels his arms slide around her waist, pulling her back against him.

“Wait here,” he murmurs against her neck, his lips brushing her skin.

Hermione turns, watching with a curious smile as Draco steps into the room’s walk-in closet. When he returns, his jacket and bow tie are gone, and the top few buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing a sliver of his chest. In his hands is a small, elegantly wrapped box.

“What’s this?” Hermione asks, tilting her head as he hands it to her.

“Something for you,” he says, his voice soft but brimming with anticipation. “Go on. Open it.”

Hermione unties the ribbon carefully, sliding off the lid. Inside, nestled on a bed of black velvet, is a delicate gold anklet. Tiny emeralds glint softly in the light, catching her breath as she lifts it out. Her fingers brush lightly over the delicate chain, her thumb lingering on one of the stones. A charm hums faintly under her touch, radiating a soft, protective warmth that feels almost alive.

Draco steps closer, his voice low but full of intent. “It’s enchanted. A protective charm. It’ll keep you safe, no matter where you are.”

Her throat tightens as her eyes meet his. “Draco…”

“I want to protect you—for the rest of our lives,” he murmurs, taking the anklet gently from her hands. Kneeling before her, he fastens it carefully around her ankle. His fingers linger against her skin, warm and steady.

The weight of his words settles over her, and she blinks back the sudden rush of tears. “It’s beautiful,” she whispers. “Draco… it’s perfect.”

“Not as beautiful as my wife,” he replies, his voice low and filled with warmth. “But close.”

Her heart swells as she reaches out to brush her hand against his cheek, her touch lingering. “You’re going to spoil me, you know.”

“Of course,” he says matter-of-factly, rising to his full height and sliding his hands around her waist. “Spoiling my gorgeous wife is my new full-time job.”

Hermione laughs, leaning up to kiss him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she takes it down. “Then I suppose I’ll have to let you,” she murmurs against his lips.

“Exactly,” Draco replies, his smirk softening into a smile as he sweeps her into his arms again.

He meets her gaze, his expression serious now. “I meant every word of my vows tonight, Hermione,” he says softly. “And I’m going to spend forever proving it.”

She smiles, wrapping her arms around his neck as she leans up to kiss him. “And I’ll spend forever loving you.”

His lips curve against hers. “Forever starts now.”

He steps back, his hands lingering on her hips as he takes her in.

The wedding dress is breathtaking, but it pales in comparison to the woman wearing it. “You’re a vision,” Draco says, his voice roughened with emotion.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Malfoy,” Hermione teases, her cheeks flushing under his intense gaze.

Draco smirks, his fingers working quickly to take down her hair. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I intend to go everywhere.”

_____________________________________________________________________

He takes his time untying the ribbons holding her dress up, savoring the way her breath hitches with each one. When the dress slips from her shoulders, pooling at her feet, he steps back, his gaze darkening as it rakes over her.

Hermione stands before him in her wedding lingerie: a white lace garter belt holding up sheer stockings, a matching bra, and barely-there knickers. The sight is enough to make Draco forget how to breathe.

“Gods,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “You’re unreal.”

He carries her to the bed, setting her down gently before stepping back to admire her. “The dress was stunning, but this…” His silver eyes roam over her with unabashed appreciation. “This is breathtaking.”

Hermione blushes, “Do you like it?” she asks softly, biting her lip.

“Like it?” Draco’s voice deepens as he steps closer, his fingers brushing her waist. “I love it, my gorgeous wife. But I’d like it even more if it were gone… except for the garter belt. That stays.”

Draco watches her, his pulse quickening as Hermione’s laugh echoes through the room, breathless and bright, like the chime of a bell. He can’t help but smirk as his lips trace along her neck, savoring the way her skin shivers under his touch. His hands slide over the delicate lace of her bra, his movements deliberate, removing it with tender care.

“You’re impossible,” she teases, her voice soft but playful.

“And yet, you married me,” he quips, a wicked grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

Her laugh breaks again, but it falters into a gasp as his mouth moves lower. He wraps his lips around one pert nipple, sucking gently as his fingers tease the other, drawing a quiet, breathy moan from her. The sound sends a jolt of heat through him, and he switches sides, determined to elicit more from her.

When he continues his descent, his lips trailing soft kisses over her belly, he feels her fingers curl into his hair, her touch grounding him. He growls low in his throat when he reaches her knickers and sees the delicate ribbons holding them in place. She knows exactly what this does to him—her smug, knowing expression tells him as much—and he’s helpless against the rush of desire it stirs in his chest.

“Two can play at this game, princess,” he murmurs, the promise in his voice thick with intent.

Her breath hitches as he leans forward, using his teeth to untie the first ribbon, then the second. He doesn’t look away, his gaze locked on hers as he tugs the lace away, letting it drop to the floor. Her cheeks flush, but her eyes hold his steadily, an unspoken challenge in their depths.

Draco’s smirk deepens as he shrugs out of his shirt in one fluid motion, baring his chest to her heated gaze. She doesn’t hide the way her eyes drink him in, the fire in her expression blazing as her hands find his belt. She fumbles slightly in her haste, and he chuckles, low and rough.

“Eager, are we?” he teases, though his voice is tinged with the strain of his own restraint.

“Don’t act like you’re not,” she counters, her hands skimming over his hips as she yanks his trousers down.

“Fair point,” he concedes with a crooked grin, stepping out of his trousers and pants before pressing her back onto the bed.

Hovering over her, he takes her in fully—the way her hair spills across the sheets, the flush staining her cheeks, the rise and fall of her chest as she gazes up at him with unbridled longing. His silver eyes blaze as he brushes his lips over hers in a kiss that starts slow, deepening quickly as his hands roam her body.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs against her lips, his voice a quiet claim. “All mine.”

“And you’re mine,” she replies, her hands gripping his shoulders as she pulls him closer.

Draco takes his time, worshipping her with his mouth, his tongue, his hands. He kisses his way down her body again, savoring the soft gasps that spill from her lips. When he reaches her thighs, he pauses, his breath warm against her skin as he takes a moment to admire her.

“Are you ready, my beautiful wife?” he murmurs, his voice roughened with desire.

Her answer is a whispered, trembling plea, her body arching toward him as if drawn by an invisible thread.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, the words reverent as he lowers his head, his tongue tracing her pussy with expert precision. Her soft cries fill the room, each one pushing him further into the haze of his own need. His hands grip her thighs, steadying her as she writhes beneath him, her body yielding to the pleasure he gives her.

“That’s it,” he whispers, his voice dark and low, almost lost against her skin. “Let go for me, Hermione. Let me hear you.”

Her hips buck against him, her fingers tangling in his hair as her release builds, and he doubles down, his tongue stroking her clit in just the way he knows will undo her. When she shatters, her cries echoing through the room, Draco holds her steady, his hands grounding her as waves of bliss roll through her trembling body.

He presses soft kisses to her thighs, then moves back up her body, his lips finding hers in a kiss that tastes of her own pleasure. “I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs against her mouth, his voice thick with intent.

“Good,” she whispers, her legs wrapping around his waist, drawing him closer.

Draco positions himself above her, guiding himself into her with a slowness that’s almost torturous—for both of them. He watches her face as he fills her, the way her mouth falls open, her eyes fluttering shut, the soft, broken moan that escapes her lips.

“Look at me,” he commands softly, his voice rough as he pauses, giving her time to adjust. “I need to see you, Hermione.”

She opens her eyes, her gaze locking with his, and the world around them fades. It’s just the two of them, their connection raw and electric.

“Gods,” he groans, his forehead falling to rest against hers as he begins to move. “You feel incredible, princess. So perfect. So mine.”

Her nails dig into his shoulders, and her hips rise to meet his, urging him deeper. “Don’t stop,” she pleads, her voice trembling. “Please, Draco.”

“Never,” he promises, his movements deliberate, a perfect blend of passion and tenderness. “Not when you feel like this—not when you’re mine, my beautiful wife.”

He keeps his gaze locked on hers, drinking in every gasp, every moan, every flicker of emotion that crosses her face. His hands cradle her face, his thumbs brushing against her flushed cheeks as he quickens his pace, his own control fraying.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice strained. “Do you know that? Do you know how much I love you?”

“Show me,” she whispers, her hands tangling in his hair.

He does.

Their rhythm builds, faster, deeper, until the tension coils impossibly tight, threatening to snap. “Draco,” Hermione gasps, her voice a broken plea as her nails scrape down his back.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers hoarsely, his lips brushing her temple as he thrusts deeper, harder, until—

They fall together, the world narrowing to nothing but the feel of her, the sound of her, the way she clings to him as her body trembles beneath his. Her release triggers his own, a deep groan rumbling in his chest as he buries his face in her neck, his body shuddering with the force of it.

For a long moment, they stay entwined, their ragged breaths mingling as their pounding hearts begin to slow. Draco presses a soft kiss to her forehead before rolling onto his back, pulling her with him so she’s draped across his chest.

As they lie tangled together, their breaths slowing, Hermione traces lazy patterns on his skin. “This is going to be hard to top,” she murmurs, her voice soft but playful.

Draco chuckles, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Challenge accepted.”

_____________________________________________________________________

Hermione

December 22, 2010

New York City

‘Challenge accepted,’ indeed, Hermione thinks as she wakes the next day. The late morning sun sneaks past the curtains in their honeymoon suite, casting golden light over the twisted sheets and warming her body.

She feels deliciously sore and thoroughly worshipped. They’d been awake more often than not through the night, celebrating their marriage in every way imaginable. A blush rises to her cheeks, and a giggle escapes her as she recalls the various positions and places around the room where their celebrations had taken them.

Hermione rolls over in Draco’s arms, shifting to take a better look at him. A giggle escapes her as she takes in his utterly wrecked state, his pale skin marked with love bites and faint scratches. She hasn’t seen a mirror yet, but she’s certain she doesn’t look much better. Her fingers trail lazily over the evidence of their night, her lips curving into a smug grin. Oops, she thinks, satisfaction glinting in her eyes.

Draco grunts softly, his hand closing over hers to still her wandering touch, though his eyes remain closed.

“Are you awake, my love?” she whispers, pressing a soft kiss to his chest.

“No, my lovely bride,” he rasps, his voice rough with sleep and the exertions of the night before. “I’m pretty sure I died of exhaustion sometime after round five.”

She smiles, casting a wandless cleansing charm on her mouth, the magic transferring to him when she leans over to capture his lips in a fierce kiss.

“Show off,” he grumbles, though the words lack any real bite.

Draco rolls them over, his lips claiming hers again until she’s utterly breathless, losing track of how long they stay entwined. The spell is broken by a soft knock at the door, and they pull apart reluctantly.

Draco smirks at the confusion flickering across her face. “I set up room service for all our meals when I made the reservation.”

Hermione rolls her eyes good-naturedly, a grin tugging at her lips. “Now who’s the show off?”

“Don’t you want to go get it?” Draco whines, rolling over and draping an arm across his eyes.

“Can’t, I’m afraid,” Hermione replies, adopting a haughty tone. “My new husband has declared that I shall stay right here, just like this”—she gestures pointedly to her state of undress—“until we leave tomorrow. And I wouldn’t dream of starting my marriage on the wrong foot.”

“Better listen to him,” Draco snorts, holding out his hand and wandlessly summoning his boxer briefs from wherever they’d landed. “I hear he’s a real bastard.”

Hermione tilts her head, a thoughtful hum escaping her lips. “No, he just knows what he wants.”

She sits up, draping the sheets around herself, and watches with unabashed appreciation as Draco strides out of the bedroom and across the suite. Her stomach growls loudly when he returns, pushing a cart laden with their breakfast. They’d barely eaten at the reception amid all the excitement, and she’s more than burned through whatever calories she managed to consume last night.

Hermione continues to admire her husband as he prepares her coffee just the way she likes it, carrying it over with a kiss to the top of her head.

“You really should’ve worn a robe to get that,” she teases after taking a sip. “One look at the state of you, and they were probably ready to call in a welfare check.”

Draco barks out a laugh, tapping his temple with a smirk. “I told them to knock and leave when I made the reservation.”

They linger over their breakfast—more like lunch at this hour—chatting and laughing about their favorite moments from the wedding. The meal takes far longer than it should, interrupted constantly by shared bites and kisses that leave them both breathless.

After a long shower—steamy in more ways than one—Hermione laughs as Draco carries her back to bed. “I am perfectly capable of walking, you know. Getting married didn’t change that.”

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should,” Draco retorts, setting her down gently before capturing her mouth in a fierce kiss.

Another knock echoes through the suite, signaling the arrival of their late lunch. While he steps out to retrieve it, Hermione finally decides to dig her phone out of her beaded bag.

“Oh, my gods,” she gasps as he returns, balancing the tray of food.

Draco’s brows knit in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Hermione assures him quickly. “It’s just a good thing we silenced these yesterday.”

She holds up her phone, scrolling through the flood of notifications. “All of our friends decided to start a group chat, and they’ve positively flooded it since the reception.”

Draco grabs his own phone, curiosity piqued. Together, they sift through the chaotic thread. There are pictures of the reception taken from the crowded dance floor, including hilarious close-ups of Scorpius’ fierce dance battle with Theo and Harry. The photos continue, capturing every moment, even documenting Harry carrying a sleeping Theo out of the venue while Pansy levitates an equally snoozing Daphne behind them.

Further down the thread, Hermione discovers updates from that morning: Tony, Judith, and Scorpius leading Narcissa, Andromeda, Kingsley, and Teddy on an impromptu tour of New York City’s iconic sights.

“I never thought I’d see my mother eating a hot dog from a street cart, but here we are,” Draco laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.

Hermione gasps suddenly, her eyes widening as she stares at a separate text thread from Candy. “Oh, my gods! They had the babies!”

Draco perks up immediately, leaning closer to read the messages over her shoulder. Evidently, Luna had been having contractions all afternoon, telling no one—not even Candy—until they left the reception. Only then did she inform him, quite matter-of-factly, that they needed to head to the hospital instead of home. Orchid Estelle and Hyacinth Pandora—named after Luna’s favorite flowers and their grandmothers—arrived in the early hours of December 22nd, exactly one year to the day since their parents met.

Candy’s final messages joked that his “girls danced their way out,” asked Draco and Hermione to be the godparents, and assured them the twins would be eager to meet their new honorary aunt and uncle as soon as the family returned home.

Draco chuckles as he rereads the messages. “Only Luna could turn going into labor into just another casual event on her to-do list.”

“And only Candy could turn it into a full-blown celebration,” Hermione adds with a warm smile, her heart swelling at the thought of their friends. “They’re going to be such wonderful parents.”

“They really will be,” Draco agrees, slipping an arm around her waist as they scroll through more photos of the newborns, their tiny faces peeking out from pastel blankets. After a moment, he smirks. “But let’s be honest—no one’s ever going to top Scorpius’ dance battle.”

“Agreed,” Hermione laughs, leaning against him as her heart swells with happiness.

Draco smiles as he scrolls back through the photos from their reception—the joyous, chaotic, magical day they’d just shared. A small laugh escapes him when he pauses on a picture of Hermione dancing with Scorpius, his son beaming up at her like she’s his entire world.

“There was a time I thought I’d never have this,” he says quietly, his voice so soft she almost doesn’t catch it.

Hermione looks up at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “This?”

He gestures vaguely toward the screen, then pulls her closer, his gaze meeting hers with an openness that makes her heart ache. “A family. A home. You.”

Her chest tightens at the raw vulnerability in his words, and she threads her fingers through his, grounding them both. “You deserve it, Draco. Every bit of it. And this?” She smiles, her voice gentle but full of conviction. “We’ve only just begun.”

His expression softens, and he leans in to brush a tender kiss to her forehead. “Forever really is going to be something, isn’t it?”

Hermione’s grin widens, her eyes shimmering with love and joy. “Forever and then some.”

Draco leans in, capturing her lips in a kiss that speaks the words neither of them need to say. When they finally pull apart, he rests his forehead against hers, his smile lingering.

As they settle back against each other, continuing to scroll through photos of their loved ones, Hermione feels a warmth spread through her chest. This moment—their laughter, their love, their shared dreams—is exactly what happiness feels like.