A/N: Okayyy, since I can't work on Ridiculously Short and Unimportant Messages due to very short laptop-time, I'm just gonna post this ficlet I wrote a month ago for Dramione Award's Special Challenge to try and appease some of your insatiable Dramione appetite. =D

Rest assured that I'm hard at work in penning the fanfic mentioned above and I'm currently on Chapter 17. On December 15th, I'll start typing and publishing them as promised.

Enjoy!

His platinum blond hair and pale skin lit up as sun light danced in his hair and upon his features. The wind whistled in Hermione's ears, caressing her face, before going in her husband's direction to attack his already-tousled hair. In that moment, Hermione felt sure she would never see anything as beautiful as the sight of him coming towards her in the golden field, a purple-petaled flower in hand. As much as she wanted to throw her hair back, close her eyes and just feel the sun light harshly burning her cheeks and the wind lightly kissing her skin in contrast, she did not. She kept her cinnamon eyes open to capture the scene in the film roll that was her memory.

Draco came towards her, smiling. He kneeled down beside his wife who was sitting in the midst of gold, looking at him with an intensity that could undo him. He touched her cheek as cerulean grey eyes met warm brown ones. "Happy birthday," he whispered to her, brushing back a stray lock of curl from her face and putting the flower in her hair gently.

"I don't think I've seen this flower before," Hermione said, her tone equally soft as she reached up to touch the said plant in her hair.

Draco's hand covered hers as he removed it and placed it in her lap so that she could have a look at it. "It's an aster," he said, looking at her closely as she examined the flower.

Hermione ran a finger along its petals, feeling its lush texture brush against her skin. Upon closer inspection, its colour was of a more lilac shade. She lifted it and placed her nose on its yellow centre. It smelt exotic like spices. Hermione felt it appropriate – it matched its wildflower beauty well. "It's beautiful," she smiled up at him then dropped her gaze to the aster once more. "It's only too bad for it shall wilt."

Draco struggled to stop the rumble that was his laughter from escaping him as he watched her disdainful expression. "Here, he plucked the flower from her fingers as he removed a journal from his pocket that would have been far too big to fit in there if not for magic. "This is my other gift," he gave her a smile. He drew his wand and tapped it upon the aster. Its petals plucked themselves, following the swish of Draco's wand, and laid themselves in every page of the journal, now flipping its own pages at an alarmingly fast rate to capture the petals. He dropped the book in her lap, "There."

Hermione opened it, her eyes lit with curiosity as her gaze lingered on her husband's smiling face. She stuck her nose in the pages and caught a whiff of the scent which was now her favourite. She smiled, threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. "I will always love you," she declared as a rush of affection washed over her.

Draco pulled back from her and looked deep into her eyes as he held her hand to his heart, "I will always love you, too."

Hermione opened the journal and caught the scent again. She inhaled deeply, feeling a fist clench around her heart as she did so.

So many years later, the scent still lingered. Like memories of that day, branded into her mind, the scent latched onto the journal like it was etched into every pore of its pages. The sun, the wind, and the god that was him… she still remembered every detail like it was yesterday.

Hermione brushed a loose greying tendril from her face and felt that fist around her heart squeeze yet again. Her tears threatened to fall as the smell of aster clung to the air she breathed into her lungs and reached into the pieces of her heart to find the ghost of him in her memories.

He will no longer brush her hair back from her face, touch her cheek or cover her small hands in his big ones. He will no longer smile at her, whisper to her or unmake her with his intense gaze.

In those little gestures he had told her he loved her… Suddenly, those little gestures did not seem so little after all.

Tell me what you thought!