Draco pondered his wife's words. "Perhaps, perhaps. Unfortunately for my mother's chances of ultimate success, she often thinks that because people think she is never wrong means she isn't. She is convinced by her own charm."
He savored his wife's kiss, returning it by allowing his tongue to ignore the conventions he would otherwise force it to abide by. When she began to pull back he had tried to make her stay, but like usual, his wife won. "We will. Once our son is well again." And preferably not acting like a Gryffindor. Although Draco wondered, once you go Gryffindor can you ever stop?
Draco chuckled. "Oh, we'll survive the Dark Lord. And Potter's reign of ineptitude as Head Auror."
"If he thinks what spawned him was magic, then he still has some lessons to learn," Draco laughed. "To be honest, I hope he doesn't tell me all about it."
"That's the way he liked it," he replied as he walked backward so his eyes didn't leave his wife.
When they reached the dance floor, he was elated to find the crowd move away for them. Some thing is still right in the world, he thought as he spun his wife and began the Gweniverian Waltz.