She had been mortified at first—Draco's flustered question suddenly had sounded like Ron in her head—accosting rather than nervous, judgemental rather than embarrassed or self-depricating. But then he had rambled, clearly saying more than intended, and she couldn't stop the sob of relief that transformed itself into a laugh, not even if she had tried. The expression on his face—clearly dumbfounded—had kept her laughing. He'd rooted the memo out of his robe pocket and stared at it for some time, his final awed question about Felix Felicis while looking at it had cemented her earlier thought: she would find a way to give this her all and make it work. For all of them.
It was clear to her that they were all a bit damaged, and while she didn't think now was the time to dive into that thought, she knew she needed this moment to ask some questions and prove her commitment, so neither of them would question it again.
"Is there any chance we could do a quiet ceremony at the Ministry?"
Draco scoffed and Blaise looked suddenly indignant, so she hastily added,
"Blaise, I am not ashamed of either you or Draco, you know that. I just don't want to deal with the fiasco that the press will make."
Blaise's face cleared, and then he started to chuckle,
"Still likely not, unless you're very interested in having an estranged and passive-aggressively furious mother-in-law for the rest of your life."
Draco was clearly stuck between wanting to smirk at the accuracy of Blaise's statement, and grimacing as he'd imagined how angry and spiteful his mother would be should they elope to avoid the press. Hermione winced again, and both Draco and Blaise had the decency to look sympathetic. Draco's leg bounced for a moment, his brow furrowed, before he spoke,
"You should write her a letter and suggest that you're not sure how to approach the planning. I am sure no one in the country is currently better versed in marriage rites and traditions than you at the moment, but it will soothe her ego to be asked for help, and assuage her guilt if she's given the opportunity to help you in particular." He rubbed his chin absently and continued,
"She's going to want to have an engagement portrait commissioned. Blaise, who does your mother use again? Anyway, it might be the only chance we get to explain about Blaise before the wedding, so she'll at least know what's going on, even if it's just you and me getting officially married."
Hermione felt her own curls rising off her shoulders and crackling at the ends with sudden rage, only dimly aware of her knuckles popping inside her instantly clenched fists,
"Oh I'll explain it to her." she said, as Draco flinched, and Blaise chuckled.
Draco watched her begin to pace, watched Blaise's shoulders rise defensively. Hermione suddenly turned and pinned him with her amber eyes—more effectively than his mother could pin a butterfly to a board—and Narcissa was an adept lepidopterist.
"Mock me for being a swot if you must, but I need to discuss some things with you both, I need to do some more research, and then I need to go see Kingsley."
Blaise's shoulders lowered a fraction as there hadn't been an immediate attack, explosion, or rejection, so he spoke first,
"What do you mean, principessa?"
She rolled her eyes at the pet name, but couldn't keep the hint of a smile off her mouth, so that was a good start. She stopped pacing and sat rather regally in her favorite armchair—if the dent of persistent use was any indication—and pulled a lap desk out from under it. Parchment and Muggle pen in hand she looked up at both of them,
"We need to talk about logistics, obviously. Let's start with names, well, my name to be precise. I like Zabini-Malfoy, personally. Sounds better than Malfoy-Zabini. Using all three would be a mouthful."
Blaise's mouth actually fell open, something Draco hadn't seen in a very long time. He found himself stifling a laugh with a cough, which earned him an immediate glare from both Blaise and Hermione. Which is when he started laughing outright, trying to explain through his wide smile and over-excited lungs,
"Blaise—your face—Merlin!" Reigning himself in a bit, he made a much better use of language on his second try,
"Are you really so surprised that she can compartmentalize? She needs to use logic to understand all this, so she's going to make a list. It's what she does when she's nervous." She smiled softly because he remembered and understood, and nodded to Blaise, who finally sat more comfortably, but was still curious,
"In which case, why are we discussing hyphenated surnames, when we ought to be discussing whether or not it's even legal for you to marry both of us?" But she was ready for that question, it seemed,
"Because I already know there's precedent, even if it hasn't been done in ages. As long as we don't exactly mention it to the Ministry beforehand, they can't do anything about it. And if it were expressly illegal, I would take it to the Wizengamot to get it changed—I am not going to marry Draco and hide you away—I refuse. You're not a dirty secret, you're both going to be my husbands and Our Marriage will belong to All Of Us." The capitalization was evident in her speech and Blaise's mouth fell open again,
"Princess, you can't take on the Ministry over—" She cut him off with a tone of white hot steel,
"Watch me." She stared at Blaise, daring him to question her again, and it was his turn to be the butterfly, so Draco decided to step in,
"I like Zabini-Malfoy."