All Right

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at [Link]

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M, M/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Character: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Harry Potter,
Blaise Zabini, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Ginny Weasley,
Theodore Nott, Oliver Wood
Additional Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Fluff, Humor, Family, Pregnancy, Idiots in
Love
Language: English
Series: Part 6 of Rights and Wrongs
Stats: Published: 2020-03-25 Updated: 2021-10-10 Words: 2,570 Chapters:
7/?

All Right
by LovesBitca8

Summary

A collection of drabbles and short stories Post-TRTTD/ATWT. Marriage, kids, Grandpa

Lucius, babysitter Harry, Draco raising a teenage girl, etc.

Notes

I dub these... the Quarantine Drabbles. This is the collection of drabbles and short pieces of
life after TRTTD/ATWT.

We will jump around, we will do different POVs and tenses, we will do drama, we will do
comedy. There won't be a lot of need to mention triggers, but I will mention them if I feel
it's necessary.

See the end of the work for more notes

 Wedding Day, Part One

"Pansy."

Pansy turned over in her sleep, dreaming of Cedric Diggory's hard muscles.

"Pansy."

Since dying, Cedric Diggory had become quite skilled with his tongue, and she wondered if all
angels were given vast amounts of sexual knowledge upon death. It seemed only fair.

"Pans!"

She blinked awake, and turned over to see Draco standing next to her bed.

Well, this dream had taken an unexpected turn, but she'd take it.

Coming fully to consciousness, Pansy looked at the clock.

"Draco," she mumbled. "It's 4 a.m."

"Is it? Oh…"

He dropped down into her armchair. Pansy sat up, and took a good look at him. He was half-
dressed in his formal robes. He would need a good rumple charm if he insisted on sitting in those.

"What's wrong? Where are your trousers?"

He looked down at his trunks, as if just now realizing.

"Oh. I must have forgotten them." He hadn't slept, that was clear. He ran his hand through his hair.
She was about to ask him again when he suddenly said, "Why did we break up?"

She blinked at him. Oh wow.

"Draco, this is perfectly natural the night before. You are allowed to have pre-wedding jitters—"

"But I've only had one other relationship in my life. And I didn't do a good job with it," he sighed.
"What if I fuck this up too?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. Why didn't he bother Blaise with this bullshit.

"Draco Malfoy. We broke up because you were in love with Hermione Granger. I don't
think that will be the cause of your next breakup."
 My Brilliant Wife
Chapter Notes

Check out the LOVELY moodboard by my Bailey.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

When people say she's the brightest witch of her age, they don't even know the half of it.

She has discipline. She has drive. She is stubborn and correct until proven wrong. She catalogs
small details — colored light bouncing across walls with each turn of a crystal glass, the folds in
parchment that indicate how long a letter has been pressed in a pocket, the song of a bird on your
windowsill as it mimics the tune on the radio — but she would never bore you with these
discoveries in the moment. No, she holds onto them until weeks later when the bird finally coos
back an entire Celestina Warbeck verse, and when you mention how extraordinary it is, she just
shrugs and says, "Yes, he's been doing that. Clever, isn't he?"

When she puts two and two together to make four, it's a stunning thing to witness. From losing a
wristwatch to finding a loophole in a law, her mind can separate the necessary and the mundane,
sifting through details that feel completely out of place until they click like a puzzle in her mind.

She is sharp. She is thoughtful. She is vigilant. She need only have a piece of the whole in order to
craft a hypothesis.

So when she gets the flu and spends a full week with stomach cramps and exhaustion… When
she's upending her breakfast into the toilet for several weeks after… I don't even bother asking the
question. Because she's the brightest witch of her age.

I watch her excuse herself from morning meetings, returning grey-faced and glassy-eyed, and I
know I must be imagining things because… there's just no possible way she wouldn't know.

I sit with her in the bath, letting my hands wander along her sides as she reads to me, and my hands
slip to her belly, searching for a sign. She turns over her shoulder and smiles at me — and I
think, this is it. This is the moment she tells me that it's true.

But instead she winks, dropping the book and twisting around in my arms, sliding her soapy body
over mind, mistaking my wandering wands for arousal instead of research.

But who am I to stop her as she straddles my legs in the water. Her hands glide over my shoulders
as mine slot our hips together. And when she's rising and falling over me, sloshing water over the
sides, the suds drip down her breasts. And I know they're larger. I know it as if they were my own
— because they are mine. I've mapped them and pleasured them and fucked them and come on
them and they are swollen.

Her head falls back, breath panting harshly, and I say, "Are you pregnant?"

She laughs, her face tilting back to mine, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright, ready to poke fun.

But her hips pause.

 And her face freezes.

And I watch her click the pieces into place. The details she was too clever to notice. My stupid,
brilliant wife.

Chapter End Notes

Facebook group for Auction followers and the Rights and Wrongs series called Rights
& Wrongs . Come yell about socks with us.

Find me on Tumblr and Twitter .

 Ambition

"And then, once I'm Head Girl, I will graduate at the very top, and they'll let me give a speech at
the end of the school year, and I will go to a Muggle university for four years to make sure I didn't
miss anything," Lucy babbled, balancing on the edge of her chair. "And then, once I'm done, I will
come back and take over Malfoy Consulting Group because Daddy will be old and Mummy will be
Minister of Magic by then. And then, when I'm older, I'll be Minister for Magic. And then all of
my friends will come to my parties and I won't have to go to any of theirs because theirs aren't as
nice as mine and they will bring me all the presents I want and I can tell Oliver Burns he can't
come because he said he didn't like my pink dress last week and I don't need a stupid pure-blood
boy at my parties anyway — I'll be Minister for Magic!"

The seven-year-old took a deep breath and continued. Hermione and Draco looked at each other
across the dinner table, and simultaneously said, "She gets this from you."
 Pygmy Puffs
Chapter Notes

I may not be able to post a Drabble tomorrow so I can prep for the Auction update,
FYI. I'm so glad you guys are enjoying these. More brand new ones coming soon.

"LUCY!"

The nine-year-old wobbled down the stairs into the entry hall and looked at her father.

"Yes?"

"Did you do this?" Draco asked. He didn't even bother gesturing toward the mess.

Lucy looked over the entry hall at the six dozen Pygmy Puffs littering the floor, tumbling around
each other and squeaking wildly. She turned back to her father over the pink and purple sea of fluff,
and said, "No."

Draco lifted a brow. "No?"

She shook her head, lifting a brow right back.

"How intriguing," Draco said, pacing through the Puffs. "Because I only just got home, and your
mother would never allow such a disgusting display of fluff in her home." He stopped and looked
at her. "So I would assume that the person who has been pestering me for a Puff to bring to
Hogwarts would have conjured them."

"What an interesting conclusion," Lucy said flatly. "Well, since they're already here, I might as
well keep them."
 Special Occasion

The restaurant was far too nice. Hermione felt underdressed just standing on the sidewalk. Draco's
hand on her back guided her inside, and she shifted from foot to foot as he spoke lowly with the
maître d'.

Within moments they were being led to a table near a window, and she felt every eye on them on
the long walk. She'd suggested going to a Muggle restaurant, but he insisted. He already had a
place in mind.

The menu was decadent. The wine list extensive.

But she and Draco hadn't spoken a word to each other since they left her flat. And maybe they were
no good at this. Maybe they should stick to sex. Maybe the only meals they should share were
lunch in his office as they redressed—

"Are we celebrating anything tonight? Any champagne?" the server asked.

Draco looked at her from over the top of the menu. His eyes were a pale grey, flickering over her
anxiously.

She turned her face up to the server to decline, and Draco replied, "Yes, thank you." He met her
eyes. "First date."

She felt her cheeks heat as the server offered his congratulations and well wishes. Biting her lip,
she looked back to the menu, focusing on how the phrase "first date" made her feel.

Like a promise of many more to come.

 Godfather

Over the heads of the cooing females surrounding my wife, past the neutral yellows, greens, and
beiges, just beyond the pile of discarded gift bows that Pansy says we have to keep to make a
"cradle" out of, Blaise looks like he's falling asleep.

In fact. He is asleep.

I can recognize Oculus Dolus anywhere. His eyes are trained on Ginny Potter as she collects the
guesses for gender, birthdate, weight, and all that rot, but they don't blink. And his head is lolled
against his palm.

I lean into Pansy's side and whisper, "I'm going to take Blaise for a walk. Or a stiff drink."

When I slap Blaise's shoulder, he jumps, jerking the non-alcoholic pumpkin juice in his hand.

"Good nap?"

"Draco, it's ten in the morning. On my weekend." He rubs his face. "Who planned this thing?"

"Ginny Potter. And Pansy. Who still hasn't forgiven you."

"I know, I know," he says as I lead him from the sitting room and down to my father's old study
where the expensive stuff is kept. I pour him a glass. "You enjoying the last of your freedom?"

"Trying not to see it that way, but I suppose." I take a sip from my tumbler.

"Well, you certainly won't be able to sneak away for a drink with me in London anymore. But" —
Blaise sits in my father's old chair and kicks his feet up on the desk — "you and me can take the
brat to the park. Maybe they can spend a day with their godfather in Honeydukes so I can buy their
love. That sort of thing."

My eyes flicker up to him. "Been wanting to talk to you about that." I set my glass down on a shelf.
"Is that something you'd be interested in?"

"Godfather?" His lips quirk. "I thought that was a given."

"Well, Granger wants Potter, of course—"

"Oh, bugger off. You don't want Potter influencing your spawn, do you? They'll all be in
Gryffindor like that." He snaps. "I want it. Give it to me. I want it. I'll take the brat to the park and
push it in a swing and teach it how to ride a broom..."

I eye him. "Do you know what a godfather is?"

"Like, the extra amazing uncle."

He swivels in the chair.

"Er, no," I say, running a hand through my hair. "There is a bit of mentorship, maybe. But a
godfather takes responsibility for the child if anything happens to Granger and me."

"Right." He swivels again.

"As in… legally."

"Right." He sips his drink.

"As in… adoption."

The chair comes to an abrupt halt. "Ah." Blaise stares into his glass. "But Weasley will be the
godmother, yeah? So the kid can go live with her."

I frown at him. "What if the Potters die with us? Horrible accident."

"Right. Well your mother—"

"She's dead too."

"...Pansy could—"

"Pansy isn't their godparent."

I watch the fun of it all leave Blaise's eyes. He takes a deep breath.

"Look, sure. If you're all dead, I can take over." He waves his hand, then lifts a brow at me. "But
don't you worry, Draco. If you're dead, I'll take good care of her."

I grin. "Her? You think the baby is a girl?"

"No, no," he says, batting the air, as if trying to clear the word "baby" from the conversation.
"Granger." He smirks. "As godfather, it would be my solemn vow to you, that I'd look after your
widow." He winks. "Take care of all her needs."

My eye twitches. "That's not the role of the godfather—"

"I'll make it my role."

I turn on my heel and sweep from the room. "We're going with Potter."

"Better me than anyone else, Draco!" he calls after me.

 Wedding Day, Part Two
Chapter Notes

Thank you forgotten_traveler for headcanoning too close to my headcanon and forcing
my hand to write this today, and raven_maiden for a speedy beta.

It was unreasonably sunny. The perfect number of clouds swam under a radiant sun. The light
glinted off the pond, and the fucking peacocks were preening.

But of course it would be a perfect day for Draco Malfoy's wedding, Theo grumbled to himself.

He stood alone near the veranda, watching as the guests filed in. Pansy was inside getting Granger
and the Weasley girl ready. Blaise was best-manning. And Greg wasn't invited. Theo was still
trying to figure out how he had gotten an invite.

When the cream envelope had arrived by owl to his flat in the city, he'd almost crumpled it into the
fire. A sick joke — that's what Draco was playing.

He hadn't seen any of them for a year. After the Battle, and after his father had been sent to
Azkaban and his inheritance frozen, Theo had spent some time traveling with the money he did
have left. He'd met up with Pansy in France for a few months, and after a disastrous attempt to
remain heterosexual, he'd gone to Amsterdam.

When Draco was released from Azkaban and started at the Ministry, Theo had read about it, but
didn't reach out. Blaise wrote him once on his birthday, but he only kept up with rest of them
through the papers. He'd watched from the Netherlands as Rita Skeeter spun a ridiculous story
about Draco and Hermione Granger, and it wasn't until the Prophet printed an actual picture of a
date that ended with a kiss that truly believed it.

He'd thought about sending a note of congratulations at the engagement. He'd thought about letting
Blaise know he was back in London, if he ever wanted to grab a drink. He'd thought about sending
an owl to Pansy in support of the Parkinson line on the cover of all the major magazines. But he
could never get the nerve up.

So when the invitation arrived, his immediate thought was that Lucius must have made him do it.
Nothing else made sense.

So here he was, waiting for the appropriate moment to grab a seat as far away from Ron Weasley
as possible.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?" said a Scottish voice to his left.

Theo turned and looked up a few inches to find Oliver Wood standing with a halo of sunlight
breaking him into silhouette. He swallowed thickly.

"Right." Theo's voice croaked over the single word, and he cleared his throat. "Wood."

"What have you been up to since… well, the end of the world." When he grinned down at him,
Theo felt that same pull. The same desperate wish that had whispered across his skin in third year
 during a Slytherin and Gryffindor match as he watched the Quaffle slide into Oliver's grip.

"Traveling. Not much." Theo tore his gaze away. "You?"

"A bit here and there. Coaching a few amateur leagues in Quidditch. Bent up me knee well and
good about a year ago, so I can't play professionally."

"Right. Er, sorry about that."

"Ah, it's nothing." Oliver buttoned his robes and said, "You'll be sitting on Malfoy's side, I take it?"

"I… I don't know. I suppose. I don't know anyone here anymore." Theo sniffed and glanced
around, trying to look more detached than he felt.

"Me neither," Oliver said. "Let's grab a few chairs in the back then, yeah?"

Theo's eyes snapped up to him. The sun seemed to play tricks through Oliver's hair, across his
stubble, and he couldn't look anywhere else. He was nodding before his mind could catch up.

End Notes

Facebook group for Lovesbitca8 followers and the Rights and Wrongs series called Rights
& Wrongs . Come yell about socks with us.

Find me on Tumblr and Twitter .

Works inspired by this one

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!