Hermione Granger had always prided herself on being an extremely sensible witch. She was almost always early, she had a heart that bled for those she loved and she constantly strived to reach her never-ending goals. Yes, she had a lot in her life to be proud of. That is, of course, until Draco Malfoy had come into her life and royally fucked up her sense of sensibility.
The first time her sensibility had been threatened had come in the form of a chance encounter with the ferret at Ginny and Pansy’s wedding. When the two headstrong females had become the power couple they were, they’d been quick to tell Draco and Hermione to put their childhood differences aside for the sake of their union. Hermione had promptly nodded her head and given them her word, while Draco rolled his eyes and kissed his teeth in a way that caused her to click her jaw in annoyance.
As couples had started flooding the dancefloor, she’d found herself being dragged up by none other than Draco Malfoy. Despite the protests of her lack of dancing ability, he’d pulled her against him and brought a broomstick-calloused hand to grip her waist. She’d irritatingly found herself leaning against him quite comfortably. When he whispered in her ear that he was staying in a room not far away from their current location and she was welcome to join, she’d slapped him across the face and marched away. Quite the scandal.
A year later, when Luna and Blaise had been hosting their engagement party, she’d once again found herself in the company of the looming presence of Draco Malfoy. Had he always been that tall or was he determined to tower over her in some alpha sign of masculinity? Either way, she’d done her very best to be sensible and avoid him for the entirety of the night. Even when he’d reached for her hand in an attempt to tug her towards the dancefloor again, she’d kept her composure and politely declined - feigning tiredness and sat watching as he danced with Pansy instead.
The third encounter had been a mistake. She’d had far too much to drink at a Ministry function - unfortunately so had he - and so she’d been the one to seek him out and bring him to the floor as her waltz partner. He’d whispered filthy suggestions in her ear as the Minister smiled at her from his table and she’d found herself blushing furiously. In a moment of madness, she’d allowed him to escort her back to his room where they shagged each other’s brains out while mumbling that they shouldn’t be in such a compromising position.
Then they’d been caught shagging at the theatre by Theodore Nott. And the Leaky Cauldron’s bathroom by none other than Percy Weasley who had shielded his eyes and ran into a nearby table - almost completely breaking it in half. Then by Harry when they’d been back at Hogwarts for the anniversary dinner. Then by Blaise. Then by Luna, who’d been instructed by Blaise to go and check out who was shagging in their downstairs loo.
Yes, Hermione Granger’s sensibility had been well and truly corrupted by Draco Malfoy and unfortunately, after six months of being interrupted and questioned by their friends - she’d agreed to be his girlfriend. Not very sensible indeed.
When their first child was born two years later, she cried as Draco suggested the perfect name for their son on the spot - Sophronius. It fit the little curly-haired blonde devil perfectly and she knew it was meant to be.
It wasn't until a year later when they'd been putting in a repeat performance of Sophronius' conception, that Draco had fessed up about his heir's naming origins. Sophronius, the masculine form of Sophronia, belonging to a 7th-century saint - translated roughly as sensible. Seemed fitting.