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Dramione Drabbles

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“You know all this excitement is very unbefitting your family name,” Pansy said teasingly out of the side of her mouth.

Draco turned to face his best friend and made a face at her.

Pansy couldn’t help but smile, as he continued to direct his wand to the oversized banner that he was currently putting up on the vast expanse of the south lawn of Malfoy Manor. Pansy glanced over to her own husband to see if he needed help putting up the marquee but he seemed to have it under control, albeit that meant occasionally squirting Harry in the face with Aguamenti.

“Where are your parents?” she asked.

Draco grimaced. “Hiding in their private quarters complaining about the invasion of blood traitors and moaning about how that girl has ruined the Malfoy name.”

Pansy patted Draco on the shoulder in consolation. Lucius and Narcissa might never dare call Hermione a ‘Mudblood’ in front of Draco, but that didn’t mean they had taken his marriage to the Muggle-born with any grace. They refused to call her by her name and made their objection to her connection to their family very clear.

Not that this was anything new. Pansy had encountered her own problems with her father when she had married Ron Weasley, but he had eventually come around. Lucius and Narcissa showed no signs of that despite Draco and Hermione having been together for five years and married for two.

“Just how did you get them to agree to host this party here?”

“I didn’t. I informed them that I would be holding a congratulations party for Hermione and that they could absent themselves if they so wished, but it would be held here nonetheless.”

Marriage to Hermione had done Draco good, Pansy reflected. His ideology during the war had undergone a change and, whilst he would always love his parents, he no longer sought to follow in their footsteps. He was also never behind in challenging their views.

It was a change common throughout purebloods in their generation. A realisation of just how wrong pureblood supremacy was and how stupid their parents had been in following Voldemort, had given Pansy, Draco, and their friends the conviction to break away from the traditions of their upbringing.

A horse patronus burst into light at the edge of the decorative lake that sat at the bottom of the south lawn and galloped across the grass towards Harry. “We’ll be there in five minutes,” it said in Ginny’s voice.

There was a flurry of last minute activity before they all heard Hermione calling Draco’s name. Pansy watched with a grin as Draco lead his wife outside and announced with pride, “It gives me the utmost delight to introduce to you Hermione Malfoy, the youngest ever Head of Department in the Ministry of Magic’s history.”

Obviously flustered and surprised at the party, Hermione flung her arms around Draco, kissed him and very clearly mouthed, “I love you.”

An arm snaked its way around Pansy’s waist, and Ron rested his chin on her shoulder. “They look happy, don’t they?”

“Yes, nearly as happy as we are,” she replied.