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Draco Malfoy would do anything for Hermione Granger. He didn't think it was an exaggeration. All of his friends often teased him but Draco didn't particularly care. As far as he was concerned, Hermione was quite easily one of the best things in his life. The one person who had no reason to forgive him had accepted him into her life, flaws and all. She had seen the very worst he had to offer and decided to stay anyway.
So naturally, all his friends could go and burn for all he cared. Draco would give Hermione the whole damn world if she demanded it. He'd find a way to give her all the stars if she asked.
But being the sensible sort of woman she was, Hermione never wanted any of the jewels he offered or the dress he had custom made. No, she never accepted gifts without putting up a fight much to Draco's chagrin.
But to his everlasting surprise, she did accept to take his name.
Hermione Granger-Malfoy.
His wife.
She was exquisite, an absolute vision as she walked up the aisle toward the gazebo⸺toward him. It was a picture he'd never forget for as long as he lived. She was radiant as she pledged herself to him in front of their family and friends.
Everyone in attendance already knew he was hers.
The ceremony had been perfect, everything they could have wanted and more as the fine golden threads wound around their entwined hands, growing tighter as they had said their vows. Once the last words had been said, the threads dissolved and the resulting rush was like the first time he held a wand. It was the first time he had flown on a broom and the first time he caught the snitch. It was seeing Hogwarts for the first time.
It was magic.
His eyes were glued to her as she talked to their guests, animated and enthusiastic. Hermione stood in the cradle of his arms, leaning her weight on him and it never failed to surprise him how perfectly she fit there; as if she was made for him.
He quickly shook the thought from his head. If anything, he was made for her. The ring on her finger was nothing but physical proof of his devotion.
He belonged to her.
She was his everything.
The press of her lips against the edge of his jaw pulled him from his reverie.
"Hey," she breathed against his skin. He smiled, noting the way her hair had started to fall out from its intricate updo, errant curls dancing across her face.
"Hello." He reached out, tucking the rebellious strands back behind her ear.
"You looked very far away just now, Mister Malfoy," Hermione said, wrapping her arms around him and snuggling into his chest. His arms came up automatically to cradle her. Some days he still wondered if this was all just a dream.
"Just counting my lucky stars, Mrs Malfoy."
"Hey," she shoved him playfully, "that's Granger-Malfoy, thank you very much!"
Hermione Jean Granger-Malfoy.
His wife.
The sun was just starting to set on the Manor grounds and the strategically placed lanterns winked into existence, one by one, turning the whole place into something out of a children's tale. Multiple couples could already be spotted on the dance floor. He smirks as he spots Pansy twirling around with Longbottom. He knew that somewhere, Theo was probably flirting with Wood. No doubt, Blaise was already chatting up some witch and Draco wondered when his best mate would finally find the courage to approach Luna. Across the garden, he saw his mother deep in conversation with his Aunt Andromeda; yet another thing that Hermione had given him.
Happiness swelled in his chest. Today, he was surrounded by everyone he held dear. The jovial conversations of their friends and family enveloped him. He could hear the laughs of the younger children running around followed by exasperated sighs. Draco couldn't help the wistful ache in his heart as he saw the young ones.
Maybe one day he could convince Hermione to give him one of his own. He had never wanted children until he thought about having them with Hermione. The image of a child with pale curls and their mother's eyes made his heart race; a child who was all the good parts of them. But children or not, Hermione was more than enough for him. He didn't need anything more than everything she had already given him.
A familiar tune started and Draco was suddenly fourteen again.
Wide-eyed, he pulled back to look at her, wondering if she recognised it too. The starting notes of the first song they had ever danced to rang through the air and Draco was swarmed with visions of a beautiful girl dressed in periwinkle, twirling around the decked Great Hall.
The telltale sparkle in her eyes told him that she remembered it too.
How far have they both come? That young boy now seemed a stranger to him. Draco wondered how he could have overlooked the princess in his arms that day. How could he have been so blind? Their past was filled with animosity and hatred and yet standing with her, he felt so loved. He didn't think he would change a single second of his past because all of it was worth it if it meant he would end up here in this moment. He wouldn't change anything if it meant he could stand with Hermione in his arms.
"What do you say, Wife?" he asked, his hand outstretched. She took his hand firmly with no hesitation. Her fingers filled in the gaps between his and Draco tugged her close.
.
.
.
He bowed.
She curtseyed back.