Chapter 1: The Intervention

The things I do for my friends... Pansy sent up the thought as a silent prayer as she knocked knees with Ginny Weasley for the upteenth time under the small, cramped table in the corner of a stylish Diagon Alley cafe. The redheaded witch shot Pansy a sharp look, and Pansy found herself glad that she had chosen to call this meeting of wizards in a public space. The cafe was neutral ground, new to the neighborhood, and busy for an early weekend morning. Pansy was relieved when all the invitees had agreed to meet and only half-hoped they wouldn't up and leave when they realized what they had signed up for or whose knees theirs were knocking against under the tabletop.

A comforting hand rested on her arm, and she looked to her left to see Blaise Zabini, one of her oldest friends. He smiled reassuringly at her, causing the premature crows-feet wrinkles to deepen around his eyes, "Go on, Pans." he prompted. But Pansy instead found herself staring at those wrinkles that were a testament to the living hell they had survived, that had stolen their childhoods and years later still managed to press on them, bone-deep, making its presence physically known by the crows feet, and stiff joints, and scars.

She wet her lips and glanced across the table at the final wizard seated with them, the man with a face that in her mind was synonymous with the war. It was burned into her brain from countless wanted posters and newspapers and now stared back at her across a table of kettles and doilies. His face was older now, more filled out, and with a polite smile plastered on his lips. It was his testimony before the Wizengamot during those tumultuous months after the war that most likely had saved her, Blaise, and their former classmates from incarceration at Azkaban. Pansy had a sudden thought that even after she grew old and had long forgotten the faces of her mother and father, that she would still remember Harry Potter's, peering back through the years.

Noticing Pansy's gaze, Ginny reached over and laid a protective hand across her husband's knee, a ring sparkling on her finger. Pansy held the other woman's stare before opening her mouth to speak,

"Is someone else joining us?" Ginny interrupted, motioning to the fifth seat that sat empty between Blaise and Harry. The no-mans-land chair of demarcation separated the two groups.

"Yes . . . that's actually why I called everyone here today." Pansy began, as good a time as any to cut to the chase. She shifted in her chair, bumping knees with Ginny again, wincing as she earned herself another sharp glance.

"Who is it." Ginny intoned, the phrase barely a question. But Pansy could practically see the train of thought circling around the other girl's head; there were two of "us" and two of "them", another guest may tip the numbers unevenly in one direction or the other. The war may have ended years ago, but there were still subconscious habits born of self-preservation and necessity that persisted. Pansy knew that just as well as anyone; even after years of trying to retrain her thought process, she still defaulted to categorizing wizards by their blood status.

But damn it, if she wasn't trying here. Which is why she was grateful when Harry placed a hand over the one that Ginny rested on his knee, as if to call off her inquisition, "Pansy, you said earlier that this was something about Hermione?"

"Yes, it is, about Hermione and-" As if summoned, the wizard who's name was on the tip of Pansy's tongue strode in through the entrance to the cafe, one hand in his pocket, the other shaking snow from his blonde bangs as he scanned the cramped room, locking eyes with Pansy as he moved towards their table in the back. Draco Malfoy folded himself elegantly into the fifth seat of no-mans-land between Blaise and Harry, leaning back to survey the group.

"My, my, Pansy, this is quite the ragtag team you've assembled." The blonde heir drawled boredly, and Pansy could see Ginny stiffen even further in her peripheral. To his credit, Harry didn't bat an eye at the nails that were no doubt digging into his knee, nor the fact that his childhood tormentor sat next to him, pouring himself some tea from a kettle painted with bunnies.

"Draco." Harry nodded at the blonde, no doubt more used to his once-rival's presence now since the war.

"Potter." Draco responded, taking a sip of tea. The tenuous civility stretched between them, and Pansy would have rolled her eyes if she didn't need everyone on speaking terms for her plan.

"Good to see ya, mate." Blaise clapped Draco on the back in greeting, and earned a half-smile from his fellow Slytherin.

"So Pans, would you care to tell me why you asked me to trek through the snow on an early Sunday morning to bump knees with old schoolmates?" Draco asked, raising a pale eyebrow at Pansy. This table was definitely too small.

"Yes, well, now that you're here I can begin. Draco," She said, leveling a manicured finger at the blonde as he swiped a biscuit off the tray between them, "how long have you been dating Hermione Granger?"

"Three years." He answered dismissively around the cookie, "You all know that. I've been forced to observe Potter's atrocious table manners for three Christmases now."

Harry scowled at Draco over his teacup. So much for civility.

"Nu-uh. It's been longer than that." Pansy pressed, "She testified at the ministry for you during our trials after the war."

"That doesn't mean we were dating." It was Draco's turn to scowl at Pansy.

"But you were something." Pansy pressed.

"Hermione's told me the stories." Ginny chimed in. Now that the redhead realized she wasn't the one being cornered, she was more than happy to dogpile on Malfoy's discomfort, "About finding each other on the battlefield and being unable to throw any spells, about your change of heart and joining The Order, the two of you bumping into each other at random safe houses—"

"Your point?" Draco asked icily, the remainder of his cookie abandoned on his plate as he crossed his arms.

"The point is that it's been much longer than three years." Pansy summarized. Draco scoffed, but it was Blaise's turn to chime in, counting the years off on his fingers,

"Let's see, the war disrupted our 7th year at Hogwarts where we were forced to fight for two years—although you switched sides early on, so I'll count that as one and a half-then the trials lasted for almost two years after it ended, when you were acquitted you disappeared for a year, then a few months of ministry training when you came home, and since then your three years of officially dating Granger." Blaise wiggled his eight raised fingers in front of him, looking to Ginny for confirmation, "Does that sound right?"

Ginny nodded, eagerly leaning forward and putting her chin in her hand conspiratorially, "Yes, that does sound like the eight years of hot-and-cold drama that Hermione's been regaling me with for so long."

"Only 5 years of drama, Gin. Remember, they've been official for three of the eight." Harry reminded his wife pleasantly, tapping her hand as he grinned over at Draco, who's glower seemed to darken with every counterpoint raised against him. The blonde leaned back in his seat, hands shoved in his pockets as he regarded the other wizards at the table,

"And you all felt the burning need to summon me on a Sunday morning to a dingy cafe to remind me of my tumultuous relationship history? I'm perfectly capable of remembering that on my own. I was the one who lived it, after all." Draco sneered. At this, all eyes turned towards Pansy. She was the one who had started down this line of questioning.

"So, when's the proposal?" Pansy asked with forced nonchalance, spinning a delicate spoon in her teacup.

"What." The little color that was there drained from Draco's face.

"I mean it's been between eight to three years, depending on your source. And everyone at this table knows that you two are meant to be, you're in it for the long haul—even if it took some of us longer to come around to it—but you and Granger have cleared more hurdles than some married couples do in their lifetimes and-"

"What she means, mate," Blaise interrupted, coming to the rescue of Pansy's ramblings, "is that it's obvious Granger's the last stop for you."

Draco was silent, his head tilted back to stare at the ceiling, as if calling upon a higher power to give him the strength not to throttle the only wizards that weren't still calling for him to be thrown in Azkaban. Minus Hermione.

"And we want to help you." Pansy said, cheeks flushed as she laid her hands flat on the table, glancing to Ginny for feminine support with what she was going to suggest next, "Let us help you plan the proposal."

"Oh—yes!" Ginny caught onto Pansy's intent with a glint in her eye, "We can help you iron out all the details!"

Draco passed a hand over his eyes, rubbing his temples with his forefinger and thumb.

"If you couldn't think of a way to propose, Draco, you could have just asked. No need to force Pansy to stage an intervention." Blaise teased.

"And I'm to believe you have nothing to say about this?" Draco deadpanned, peering out from behind his hand to address the Boy Who Lived sitting next to him.

"She makes you a better man, Draco." Harry grinned at the blonde's discomfort, "And like you mentioned, we already spend our Christmases together."

"So!" Pansy clapped, looking around the table at the four smiling wizards and one miserable Malfoy, relieved that everyone was in agreement and Draco hadn't tried to make a dramatic escape yet, "Right, I'll go first then. Here's my suggestion for your proposal . . ."

~

A/N: Alright, folks. I came out of fanfic retirement to write this one because I love the Dramione pairing. This fic is completely written, multi-chaptered (not many), and will be updated once a week until complete.

This fic is dedicated to all the mods, users, and contributors over at the DramioneAsks tumblr! Those guys are a fantastic community and work hard for this fabulous OTP. If you've ever found a fic using their side, you know what I'm talking about.

Big thanks to my beta, Chromat1cs!

Cheers!