Draco/Hermione (later life, dog)
When Hermione had suggested they get a dog, Draco’s first instinct had been to chuckle and shake his head no. Dogs weren’t magically useful, he’d told her fondly, going back to making her breakfast. She’d scoffed, as if personally offended by his (objectively accurate) statement and when he glanced over his shoulder while waiting for the toast to brown, he’d seen she’d gone back to her redlining. Or so he’d thought.
When he’d placed a plate of eggs, toast, and baked apple down in front of her, he saw she’d been compiling a list. He took it without complaint in exchange for a kiss to her temple. He didn’t need to look at it to know she’d swayed him.
She’d been especially tender all month after Lyra had graduated from Hogwarts and immediately gone abroad to chase after dragons, a profession he viewed with equal amounts of awe and trepidation. Lyra had kissed his cheek when he’d fussed and told him not to worry: his namesake would never hurt her. So far, she’d been right on that score, her cunning and her courage working in harmony.
Scorpius’ sojourn from home had prepared Draco for the sight of watching part of his heart cross an ocean but it was never easy and he knew it tugged at Hermione in ways he couldn’t fathom. Scorp had heeded the call of love, accompanying his partner on their career-making move to America, so Draco would never have dared stand in the way despite what he saw it did to his wife. He knew what it was like to do crazy things for love.
And so, he got Hermione a dog.
The moment she’d seen him carrying the pup through in his arms, Hermione had burst into tears but he was familiar with her emotions after almost thirty years together so he’d just cuddled the creature down onto her lap and squeezed her shoulder affectionately, unperturbed. She’d collected herself with a few quick sniffs, not apologizing for it but saying thank you instead, beaming up at him before turning her attention fully on the wriggling mass of dark golden, curly fur.
He’d gotten her a beautiful dog, something intelligent and hardworking and sweet, drawn to those traits as he was. Hermione had named her Canis, shooting a flirty smile up at him at her adherence to his only request when it had come to their children’s naming scheme, a small tribute to his mother’s heritage. He’d kissed her for it, half in jest and half because he loved her so much it ached, and left the two of them to bond.
After becoming a dad, Draco had gotten used to his priority shifting around as the more helpless creatures in Hermione’s care had needed her more, so he half expected her to dote wholly on Canis given that he’d figured out instantly upon seeing Hermione’s list that her request for a dog had been to fill her suddenly empty nest.
But Hermione surprised him. She treated Canis with immense love and respect but Draco even more so.
“Not now, Caney,” she told the dog softly but firmly when Canis had nosed at her thigh after she’d sat herself on his lap on the sofa. “Back to your bed. Daddy’s getting some love first.”
It warmed him to see her interact with the animal and he surprised himself by falling a bit in love with Canis himself. She was a well-behaved dog but affectionate and playful, happy to run alongside him and play endless games of Spot the Snitch with him, something neither of his children had had the patience for.
He could see the way it warmed something in Hermione too, when he’d catch her watching them cavorting around in the back garden or when she came to collect him for some task only to find him drowsy on the sofa, Canis sleeping on him like their babies had once lain.
He hadn’t expected getting his wife a dog would lead to more sex than they had since becoming parents but Draco certainly wasn’t complaining about the added bonus. He could always tell when he’d done something for which he would reap the reward for later, the glint in her eye or a little laugh and shake of her head a few of the small signs he’d learned would herald her warm body wrapped around his. It was possible that Draco kept a careful catalog of which actions incited those little things so he could be sure to enact them in her presence — he was a changed man but a snake never fully shed its skin.
But the greatest thing about Canis was the way she always knew when she was needed. A heavy head resting comfortably on his knee when he’d gotten the letter from Lyra gushing proudly to him about how well she was advancing, tears springing to his eyes from seeing his little girl succeed.
Or when Hermione had twisted her ankle going down the garden steps in the rain, the stones slick and he at the office, only to find Canis there with the wand she’d left in the kitchen held gently in her mouth. She was a companion and a protector, something he knew that both he and Hermione would always be in need of, in the highest amounts they could find.
So in the end, it turned out that dogs actually were quite magical after all