What's In A Name?
"Hermione Malfoy," Draco whispered in her ear as he pulled her to him after he had slipped the engagement ring onto Hermione's finger and got up off one knee. She stiffened in his arms.
*****
"Hermione M...M…Mal…Malfoy" the curly-haired woman stuttered over the phone.
The lady at the Muggle telephone company who was making the change to Hermione's billing details said " Yuz gonna 'ave ta repeat that, luv."
"Hermione …". The Gryffindor's throat suddenly dried up and she made a choking sound. "I…I'm sorry, I've got to go." She hung up.
*****
"And I was wondering if you'd like to be my bridesmaid?" Hermione finished her momentous news. She was glad she'd told Ginny before her other friends. The redhead had always been supportive of her relationship with Draco (she swore she'd seen it coming) and now sat next to Hermione on her sofa, bursting with excitement.
"Oh my goodness, YES! Oh this is so exciting! Congratulations! I can give you the details of my robe-maker… Oh – show me the ring! Show me, show me, show me!" Ginny gushed, clapping her hands and bouncing up and down on the sofa.
"So…" the younger girl said as she examined the intricate diamond design, looking like lace work on Hermione's slim finger, the gemstones enchanted to stay in place without visible fixtures. "You're going to be Hermione Malfoy!"
"Erm … well, I was thinking I might keep my name. Save having to change bills and stuff…"
Ginny frowned at her friend slightly, confused. "Keep your own?" Hermione nodded. "You're not allowed to do that."
"What?! Why not? Muggles can."
"It's part of the binding magic. If you don't take his name, your marriage doesn't count as real. The Ministry won't recognise it."
"Oh. No problem." Hermione murmured.
"It is though, isn't it?" Ginny guessed at her old friend's apprehension.
*****
"You're marrying him?!" Ron yelled. Harry elbowed the redhead.
"Yes. Hermione Malfoy," the girl whispered.
"But he's a slimy, inbred git!" Ron protested.
Hermione glared at him. "You could be a bit more supportive Ron. You must have seen it coming. And please don't talk about Draco that way, he's been nothing but nice to you since we got together." She stormed out of the room, restraining herself from telling her old friend the reason he hadn't seen it coming was he'd been too busy with his head up his arse.
Harry followed her but Ron didn't. Hermione plonked herself down on the sofa in the next room and the Boy Who Lived settled next to her, careful not to move too quickly lest he angered his upset friend.
"Congratulations," he said, placing his hand on her arm. "Ron doesn't really mean it – you know what he's like. He'll come round."
Hermione humphed.
"Is this what you want?" the boy asked.
Hermione looked straight into his emerald eyes as she answered without a doubt "Yes. I've never wanted anything more."
*****
"Where are we going?" Hermione asked. She was visiting Malfoy Manor for dinner and after the meal Draco had dragged her straight off. They had turned so many corners and climbed so many flights of stairs that she had lost all sense of direction (this happened a lot in the sprawling residence).
"Here!" her fiancé announced triumphantly as they turned into a very long room with a high, vaulted ceiling. He gestured at a nearby portrait – Hermione recognised it as Lucius Malfoy. "The Hall of Ancestors. A portrait of every deceased member of the Malfoy family. The room extends itself without changing outside proportions every time someone dies, to accommodate their portrait. Shall we?" he asked, offering his arm.
Hermione linked hers into his and they strolled off down the room.
"Why are you showing me this?" she asked, gazing absent-mindedly at a portrait of a pale and ugly woman who was staring with barely concealed curiosity at the girl.
Draco shrugged. "I thought it might be nice for you to see the ancestry of your new family." Hermione frowned.
They finally reached the far end of the room a full ten minutes later. As they were walking back to the large, ornately carved, wooden door which they had entered by, Hermione's eyes fell on a portrait of a man in very splendid robes, with the trademark long blond hair, although his fell in small curls. It was not this which attracted her attention, however. Inscribed on the gold plaque adorning the huge gilt frame was not just his name (Malachi Malfoy) or the dates he lived (1776 to 1864), but also a title :
Malachi the Great.
Despite the lack of originality in the name, it aroused her curiosity and she tapped Draco on the arm and pointed at the sleeping portrait. "Who was he?"
The portrait awoke, saw her and began to shout something. "M –" was as far as Malachi got, however, before Draco uttered "silencio" and the painting was left to mouth angrily but noiselessly. Hermione frowned at him, trying to work out what he was trying to say, but his mouth moved too quickly in his obvious irritation.
"You don't want to know," said Draco, attempting to pull the Gryffindor away, but she stood her ground.
"No, tell me. Why was he "great"?"
The young Slytherin dropped his arm from Hermione's and stood gazing intently at his fingers. "My great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather. He believed the wizarding world should be cleansed, and so he committed genocide." Draco looked up but stared resolutely over Hermione's shoulder. "He murdered 150 muggleborns and terrified many more into handing in their wands to lead a muggle existence." Hermione could see the shame in his eyes.
"Well it's a good job I'm not marrying him, then, isn't it."
Draco didn't respond so she stepped forward and gently took his chin, turning his face so that he had to look at her. "Because I'm not – I'm not marrying your family, or their history, or their reputation or crimes, or their ridiculously huge house. I'm marrying you, because I love you." And Hermione knew it was true. His name, his family, was part of who Draco was, but he wasn't like them and that was what mattered.
*****
"Hermione Malfoy," Ron shook his head at the curly-haired girl in her long, white dress robes.
"Please don't ruin my wedding day, Ron," Hermione sighed.
"I just can't believe you actually went through with it." Parvati stamped viciously on his foot. "I mean … congratulations. I hope you're very happy," he said resignedly.
"You must come round for dinner soon!" said Parvati. Ron looked disgusted and walked away into the crowd. Parvati nodded her head at the retreating Gryffindor. "Sorry about Ron – he can be such a jerk. Which is, of course, why I'm marrying him!" she laughed, and Hermione joined in.
*****
"Suite 254. And if you need anything, just send me an in-house information slip – they should be by your bed and they'll fly straight to me," smiled the receptionist at the Malaysia Magical Community Hotel as she handed the couple their room keys. "I hope you have a wonderful honeymoon, Mr and Mrs Malfoy." Hermione turned to see her husband grinning like an idiot – she could feel the matching expression on her face.
*****
"Hermione Malfoy," whispered Draco in a deep, gravely voice, his breath hot and ragged in Hermione's ear as he pressed himself between his new wife's legs.
*****
Draco and Hermione surveyed the Black Family Tree in Number 13 Grimmauld Place. Most of the house was now a museum, detailing the history of the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore's Army, and all of the people who had died in the long war, but this room had been kept private. Since the building still technically belonged to Harry the couple were free to go where they wished and were now looking at the newest addition to the tapestry, Draco's hand resting protectively on Hermione's swollen, pregnant belly. Linked by two intertwining gold threads to the name Draco Malfoy sat the words
Hermione Malfoy nee Granger.
"I think it's missing a little something," Draco announced, and with a wave of his wand an extra few words sewed themselves into the heavy material. It now read
Hermione Malfoy nee Granger
The first good Malfoy.
Hermione tried to smile and frown at the same time, but ended up collapsing into giggles. Once she had recovered she poked Draco in the chest. "Second, actually. You don't give yourself enough credit."
*****
25 years later a grown-up Scorpius Malfoy was sorting out some old boxes in the attic. He found a yellowing, ancient envelope and couldn't help wondering why his mother had kept the telephone bill from the month after she got married. When he asked her, she simply replied "It's addressed to Hermione Malfoy."
Scorpius didn't understand at all but his fiancée, Lily Potter, smiled knowingly at the older woman.
A/N: How was it? Feel free to leave constructive criticism, too.