Relationship: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Rose Weasley
Additional Tags: POV Draco Malfoy, Step-parents, Step-Dad Draco, Divorced Hermione Granger & Ron Weasley, Ron Weasley Bashing, Quidditch, Minister for Magic Hermione Granger, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, warm and fuzzy, Good Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy is Good with Children, Children's Little League Quidditch, Rose Weasley has Draco wrapped around her little finger, Quidditch Coach Draco Malfoy
Summary:
When Hermione Granger gets a call from her ex-husband that he can no longer coach their daughter's quidditch camp, Hermione's husband, Draco Malfoy, steps in.
Quidditch Camp
by SarahFraser
Draco, wearing an apron, stood at the stove as he eyed his latest creation. This shouldn't be too hard; he was a master potioneer; this was just like that…right?
"You're joking?" Draco smiled as he watched his wife fly down the stairs and into the kitchen. Her bright sky-blue pantsuit made her legs look long and like she was in absolute control and the most powerful witch in the room.
Which she was, seeing as how she was the Minister of Magic.
However, the scowl on her face as she reached out for the cup of coffee Draco had prepared, with her earbuds in her ears, was the only indication that she wasn't speaking to Draco. "What the fuck, Ronald!? What am I supposed to tell her?"
Draco's full attention was on his wife as he watched her march over to the extra large calendar that took up nearly an entire wall, laying out all the different meetings, activities, chores, and whatever else his wife deemed necessary to be scheduled, which was everything.
"Well, I wouldn't be so pissed if you weren't supposed to be the bloody coach for the camp!" Hermione snapped, pulling open their junk drawer with such force. Draco was surprised it didn't come off its rails. Digging through all the various cords, instruction manuals, markers, and other things carelessly thrown in there, Hermione finally pulled out a contact book that was one of his wife's prized possessions. "No, forget it; I'll tell Rose something and find someone to cover your commitment. No, enjoy Barbados; I can't imagine how hectic your life is, and you deserve another vacation." Hermione seethed into the speaker and then tapped her ear to end the call.
When his wife turned toward him – his fierce warrior – Draco felt his heart sink as he watched her shoulders sag, and her eyes fill with tears. Draco held out his arms, and his wife rushed into them, her body melting into his hold as she sniffed.
"He forgot he was supposed to run the little Quidditch camp?" Draco asked, running his hands over Hermione's back soothingly.
Hermione sniffed again, resting her cheek against his chest, "He just started seeing this girl and wanted to impress her by taking her on a week-long vacation. He asked if I could find a replacement, contact all the parents, and cancel the camp. Ginny and Blaise are out with Luna, due to give birth any day. Harry and Theo are on their honeymoon, so Harry's unavailable."
Draco heard her sigh as she pulled away from his hold, turned back to her contact book, and began to flip through the pages. "I think Oliver or Viktor–"
"You're not contacting an ex-boyfriend as a replacement," Draco stated, crossing his arms over his chest. Hermione merely glanced at him through her lashes and shook her head.
"Then perhaps George, he and Angelina–"
"Granger," Hermione looked up at him and raised a brow. "You are forgetting that I know a thing or two about Quidditch. Arguably, I know more than Weasley and must be better than sprogs."
Hermione looked at him, smirking at the sight of him wearing his 'kiss the chef' apron, and cocked her head to the side. "Don't you have a company to run?" She asked, but Draco shrugged.
"I'm the boss; besides, I'm sure Pansy will be happy to have me out of her hair for a week," Draco said, smoothing down the stray curl that had worked its way loose during her call with Ron. "How hard can it be to run a Quidditch league for five-year-olds?"
Draco began to doubt himself at Hermione's smirk, but he refused to retract the offer and let her down. "I guess if you're sure…" Hermione trailed off, and Draco couldn't help himself, leaning down and capturing her lips. Honey and coffee, the taste that Draco had long ago come to associate with his wife.
"I'm positive, now, off to work. I'll take care of everything." Draco promised, pulling away, loving how her whiskey eyes shined in the early morning light.
"Well, if you insist," Hermione said, pulling away and walking over to the counter where her work tote lay with everything she needed to take into the office. Draco's entire body warmed when she turned her attention back to him. "Oh, and Draco," she murmured, shouldering the tote.
"Hum?" He smirked, raising a brow in question.
"Your pancakes are burning," she purred, and with a peck on his lips, she was out the door.
–
As Draco stood at the edge of the practice pitch looking out at all of his players, he realized that he might have misplaced his confidence. The children of his old classmates and their spouses, ages five to seven, had taken to the air as if each child were made of stone. The most he'd done was get a few of the brooms from the shed, knowing that to start, it would be best to get the basics of the game with their feet firmly planted on the ground.
The children hadn't agreed.
"Barnaby!" Draco yelled, watching as one of the children flew toward a tree; the only thing halting his speeding process was the barrier put in place to keep the kids from wandering off. "I was wanting you to practice catching and throwing the Quaffle!"
The youngest son of Marcus Flint toppled to the ground, though he didn't appear injured. He was one of the youngest children, having just cut off by having his fifth birthday last week. Draco need not have worried because the child jumped to his feet and ran across the grass, trying to see how many times he could do a summersault before he was too dizzy to stand.
"Draco?" the sound of the most angelic voice he'd ever known whispered behind him, and Draco turned his attention away from the chaos before him and looked down at the little red-headed girl who'd stolen his heart three years earlier.
"Hm?" He asked, smiling at the little girl with her bright red hair in two little buns on the top of her head. Her bright blue eyes were wide and curious as she watched him, and Draco could feel his heart melting as he looked at her.
Looks wise, she was the perfect mixture of her parents, with her mother's button nose and round face while having the Weasley freckles dusting her cheeks and the pale skin tone. She was like one of the porcelain dolls that his wife collected.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked, her voice so little and making her even more precious to him.
"You are going to be the seeker; do you know what that is?" he asked, squatting down so that he was at eye level with her. Her little lips pursed, and then she shook her head violently, and he was shocked that one of her little buns didn't fall out of place. "No? Well, that's arguably one of the most important jobs. Only the seeker can end the game; their job is to catch the snitch."
"Oh, like Uncle Harry!" She exclaimed, her face lighting up as she realized what Draco was describing.
"What? Like me! You've seen me play against Potter before," Draco argued, and Rose let out a squeal of giggles in response.
"Yes, but Uncle Harry always wins," Rose teased, covering her mouth with her gloved hands as she snickered again.
"Why, you cheeky little thing!" Draco exclaimed, reaching out and snatching her off the ground so that she hung in the air, another round of laughter coming from her. "You take that back; Potter hasn't won the last three matches we played!"
"Because Uncle Theo stole his glasses!" Rose replied, struggling in his grasp while Draco tickled her sides.
"You're ruthless," Draco stated, setting the girl back on her feet. Her cheeks were flushed a bright pink, and her smile was back in place as she stared up lovingly at him. "Alright, go warm up with the other sprogs. I'm sure you can teach them a thing or two on how to swing the beater's bat."
With another smile in his direction, Rose took off running, and he shook his head in disbelief as he watched her join the other children. Though it wasn't a glamorous life, it was his, and there was nothing Draco would change about it.
Notes:
Here's a little one-shot to celebrate 1,000+ followers on Twitter (X)
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