“Honestly, Draco! I cannot believe that you would want to subject a poor child to that name!” Hermione sighed in exasperation from her seat on their colossal bed.
Draco called back from where he was getting undressed in their closet, “Scorpius is a perfectly fine name.”
“I’m not naming our child after an arachnid!” she practically shrieked.
Moving out of the dressing room and into their bedroom, he poured himself two fingers of firewhisky and sat in the regal armchair that faced where she was tucked under the duvet. Smirking, he casually said, “I still think that we should name him Draco Abraxas.”
Hermione huffed. “Of all the patriarchal, misogynistic, self-centered ideas you’ve had, that takes the cake.”
“Oi! I do not hate women.” He faked offense then lowered his tone flirtatiously, “I quite like women,” and gave her a salacious wink.
The attempt to hide her smile was unsuccessful.
“It is prejudiced.” She looked back down to the book that was open in her lap and tried to find where she left off, thinking they would continue this argument another time. It had been a recurring argument for going on eight months. Ever since that glowing golden globe appeared over her navel.
Draco, however, was not finished for the night. “Well, you are carrying the next Malfoy heir, which requires something a little more refined than Hugo.” He loved riling her up.
“Hugo is a perfectly sensible name.” She slammed the book closed. Apparently she wasn’t going to get any further.
“It sounds like when your decrepit cat coughs up a hairball.” He explained smugly and sipped the amber liquid.
Her nose scrunched up in disgust. “Blech.”
“Besides, I’m basically spitting on my ancestors' crypts by giving you Granger-Malfoy as a last name, can’t you let me have the first name?” Tossing back the remainder of his drink, he stood.
Leveling him with her stare, she said snootily, “Oh you mean my father’s name?”
He grimaced. She had him there.
Moving to his side of the bed, he draped his dressing gown on the hook then sat on the edge, one leg propped up so he could face her.
“Love, you know that I’m not trying to upset you.” He reached toward her and laced his fingers with hers. “You knew when you married me that you were essentially marrying wizarding royalty.” He knocked away the pillow she levitated at his face. “Don’t deny it. I don’t say that to brag…”
She stuck her tongue out playfully at him. Of course she knew that. There had been a test. Well, not so much a test as a stilted luncheon with all of the society ladies hosted by his mother when they had gotten engaged. Knowing that they were going to be judging her on every little thing, she crammed as much pureblood history, etiquette, and even insider gossip as she could fit into her hair before the stuffy event. Narcissa had beamed at Draco when she recounted how magnificent his fiance had been. Hermione and Pansy vowed to take their ‘study sessions’ to the grave.
“...there are just expectations.”
Hermione thought about pointing out that he already bucked some of those traditions by marrying a muggle-born, but she didn’t want a pity win. And when she brought that up, he tended to give her whatever she wanted.
“The constellation tradition actually comes from the Black side. So it’s not a Malfoy requirement.” Draco’s smug look let her know that he thought that was a checkmate.
“A Black family tradition that is coming from our child’s father’s side.” Her smirk rivaled the Draco of their youth.
His eyes widened at the loss but he quickly recovered and sent her a devastating smile. Climbing onto the bed, he prowled toward her.
Pressing herself into the headboard she held out a hand to stop him. “Oh, no mister.” He nibbled on one of the fingers she held aloft. “That look right there is what got us into this mess,” she scolded, gesturing to rounded abdomen.
He pushed her hand down and moved to straddle her legs, capturing her face between his large hands, he devoured her mouth.
The argument waited for another night.
It wasn’t until she was 40 weeks and 2 days pregnant that they finally compromised on a name that appeased them both.
Malfoy Patriarch and Muggleborn Wife Welcome Newest Malfoy Heir
Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater turned spy for the Order of the Phoenix, and Golden Girl Hermione Granger-Malfoy welcome their son, Dramione Lucius Granger-Malfoy, to the world. The couple buck tradition in their unusual naming of the newest addition to two noble houses.
Hermione stopped reading what she was sure would be a complete embellishment of their perfect son’s birth announcement. Narcissa had insisted.
Two weeks later found the family of three in the Anglican church that Hermione’s parents had brought her to growing up. Her parents had requested the baby be christened and they were all too happy to comply. Draco was the picture of stoic perfection but she knew that he was nervous. They had never been to a church before so he was out of his element. Her parents and Harry and Ginny, who would be acting as muggle godparents, rounded out the small party.
Jean and David Granger had a small luncheon for all of them, plus Narcissa who joined after the baptism. Then, it was back to the manor for all of their friends to be introduced to the tiny Malfoy heir.
Hours later, Hermione had managed to put Dramione to bed and was enjoying a few glasses of wine. The medi-witch told her that if she could find the baby she could feed the baby, but she was still limiting it to two. Large ones.
Theo interrupted the merrimaking and asked the question that had been plaguing all of the occupants of the room.
“So,” he paused in his typical flamboyant way, “how in Salazar’s sac did you come up with the name Dramione?”
Eight pairs of eyes snapped to where the new parents were sitting on an antique loveseat.
Hermione gave a cheeky, wine induced grin, and answered proudly, “It’s a combination of our names!” then giggled.
Draco looked adoringly at his tipsy wife and continued, “we decided that his name needed to honor us both.” Kissing her sweetly on the lips, he ignored the few cat calls and one obnoxiously loud retching sound from the one good Weasley.
Red broke their bubble from the lap of her husband. “If we ever have a child, Blaise, let’s name them Blinny! It’s great! Very gender neutral.” She wasn’t even trying to hide her shit-eating grin.
The raucous laughter that rang out after her comment just made her smile grow more feral.
“You!” she screamed, pointing at Harry and Pansy who were seated on another baroque sofa. The furniture in here was ostentatious. “Hansy for your next offspring!” Whatever mixed drink Ginny was nursing sloshed over the side onto an amused Blaise’s trouser leg.
Pansy sniffed. Harry, feeling warm from the few glasses of firewhisky, tugged his wife closer into his side. “Handsy is what we get when we’re making the offspring.”
Draco actually spat his drink out. Hermione barely stopped laughing at her best friend’s horrific joke long enough to Evanesco the mess.
“I think Thuna would be a wonderful name,” came Luna’s whimsical voice from where she was swaying in front of the roaring fire. Theo gazed at his witch as if she hung the moon and stars.
Harry turned to his godfather and favorite DADA professor with a quizzical look. After noticing, everyone else followed suit to stare at the couple. Silently, they were all attempting to solve the same puzzle.
Remus grew uncomfortable quickly, but Sirius always did love to be the center of attention. He just smirked and raised one eyebrow in challenge.
“Do your worst,” he dared and lounged further into the cushion.
“Sirmus!” Ginny declared loudly.
“Remus! Wait,” Theo’s contribution earned another round of hysterical laughter.
After they had quieted, more options were thrown out and dismissed. Rerius. Sirem. Stanley, another from Theo. Blupin was even suggested.
“Wolfstar,” came a soft voice.
Everyone turned to look at Hermione. Remus’ eyes crinkled with his smile and Sirius gave her an appreciative nod.
“Wolfstar is lovely,” Luna chimed in. Everyone was nodding their agreement.
“Wolfstar.”