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Draco Malfoy had faced war, prison, and a homicidal Dark Lord. Yet none of it compared to the prospect of earning the approval of one Mr. Granger, DDS.
Hermione’s father was a dentist. A Muggle dentist. Draco had no idea what that meant in practice, beyond an alarming number of pointy tools and a professional obsession with teeth. But if dentistry was the Granger family trade, then clearly the way forward was obvious: demonstrate respect by becoming, himself, a dental masterpiece.
Thus began Operation Dental Valor.
September – The Cleaning
Hermione booked it. Draco would never have gone on his own.
He sat stiffly in the waiting room, leafing through a children’s magazine with thinly veiled disgust, until his name was called. Ten minutes later, he was flat on his back in a reclining chair while a hygienist hummed to herself and scraped at his gums with what Draco privately suspected was a cursed blade.
“Open wider, please.”
“I am not a Hippogriff,” Draco muttered.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing.”
By the time he emerged, pale and shaky, Hermione had finished three chapters of her book. Draco clutched a complimentary toothbrush like a battle trophy.
“I endured,” he croaked. “Your father will admire my fortitude.”
“It was just a cleaning,” Hermione said, tucking her bookmark in place.
“Exactly,” Draco replied gravely. “A trial by metal.”
October – The Whitening
They went apple-picking with her parents in early October. Mr. Granger asked politely about Draco’s work, but said nothing about the cleaning.
Draco seethed.
A week later, he greeted Hermione in the library with a grin so blinding she dropped her quill.
“Sweet Circe!” she yelped. “What did you do?”
“They’ve been whitened,” Draco said smugly. His teeth glowed with such intensity that Crookshanks hissed and fled under the sofa. “Like pearls. Or perhaps—diamonds.”
Hermione shielded her eyes. “You look like you swallowed a Lumos charm.”
“They radiate purity.”
“They radiate migraines,” she muttered, turning back to her parchment.
November – The Braces
They spent a dreary November weekend in Oxford with her parents. Mr. Granger discussed politics with Hermione; Draco spent most of the visit smiling pointedly, but still received no comment about his dazzling teeth.
So Draco escalated.
“Braces,” he announced one morning, lips stretching to reveal gleaming silver brackets.
Hermione dropped her toast. “You didn’t.”
“I did.” Draco snapped the elastic bands with a satisfied click. “Green and silver, for house pride.”
“Your teeth are already perfect!” Hermione wailed.
“Perfection,” Draco said loftily, “is the bare minimum. These are dental shackles of devotion. A noble burden.”
Hermione buried her face in her hands. “Dental shackles of idiocy.”
December–January – The Veneers
Christmas with the Grangers was tense. Draco brought expensive wine and made a visible effort at civility, but Hermione caught her father staring once or twice at his mouth. Draco was convinced it was admiration. Hermione suspected horror.
In January, he returned from a day trip London with a new plan, which he wanted to tell Hermione about right away. He found her organizing her grandmother’s linens in the closet off the kitchen.
“How do I look?” he asked, flashing a grin so wide Hermione nearly screamed. His teeth were enormous, square, gleaming like porcelain tiles in a bathroom showroom.
Hermione dropped her teacup. “You look like a deranged rabbit!”
“They’re symmetrical,” Draco protested.
“They’re terrifying,” she shot back. “No one wants to be proposed to by Bugs Bunny, Draco.”
“Your father will recognize the craftsmanship.”
“My father will recognize that I’m dating an escapee from a petting zoo.”
Her mother, overhearing from the kitchen, coughed discreetly into her tea.
February – The Gold Inlays
Valentine’s dinner was meant to be romantic. Hermione had booked a quiet restaurant. Draco had other plans.
“Observe,” he announced, tapping his front teeth with a fork. Golden initials winked in the candlelight: D.M.
Hermione froze halfway to her wine glass. “You engraved your own initials into your teeth?!”
“It demonstrates legacy,” Draco said proudly. “A Malfoy mouth is worth more than any vault. Surely your father will respect that.”
Hermione nearly choked. “He will not. You look like you lost a bet at a goblin nightclub.”
The waiter tactfully pretended not to hear.
March – The Crown Jewel
Dinner at the Grangers’ was going well. Mrs. Granger had made shepherd’s pie, Hermione was telling a story from work, and Draco had managed—miraculously—not to say anything offensive.
Until he smiled.
An emerald glittered in his left canine, catching the dining room light every time he opened his mouth.
Hermione’s mother gasped. Hermione dropped her fork with a clatter.
Mr. Granger stared for a long, silent moment before calmly setting down his knife. “Draco, why is there a gemstone in your tooth?”
“Symbolism,” Draco explained at once. “Emerald for fidelity, green for Slytherin, permanence of devotion—”
“Enough,” Mr. Granger interrupted, rubbing his temple. “Listen carefully. If you want my approval, you don’t need to mutilate your mouth. Just treat my daughter right. That’s it.”
Draco blinked. “That’s all? No root canal of loyalty? No bridgework of devotion?”
“Absolutely not.”
Hermione groaned into her napkin.
Draco, however, lit up — emerald sparkling like a lighthouse. “Splendid! Then I’ll cancel the molar implants at once.”
Hermione dropped her head to the table with a muffled thud.
Mrs. Granger quietly offered her more wine.
Epilogue – April
It was spring when Draco finally gave up the dental theatrics. Sort of.
As they walked home from her parents’ one evening, Hermione muttered, “You’re impossible.”
“I’m dedicated,” Draco corrected, smiling proudly.
“Dedicated would’ve been flowers,” she said.
“Flowers rot,” Draco sniffed. “Teeth are eternal.”
Hermione threw up her hands. “You’re lucky my dad didn’t hex you.”
“On the contrary,” Draco said smugly, “I believe I’m well on my way to approval.” He tapped his gleaming tooth. “Emerald progress.”
