Paste your document here...Draco had finally been able to get away. The baby had finally stopped crying, the Floo had stopped allowing calls and Hermione...all he had to do was mention furniture mending and off she was in the library looking it up, all the while muttering, "Why didn't I think of this before?"
He had climbed onto his broom, and soared high into the air before he felt something off. He lowered himself to about six feet off the ground, trying to think why his beloved broom would feel so odd...when it snapped cleanly in two, dropping him into a bog of mud.
.
"You see, Draco..." Hermione had started, a blush staining her cheeks quite red.
"All I see," Draco quietly seethed, "is my broom split in two." He did not want to wake the endless noise machine.
"I was trying to teach myself how to fly, and -"
Draco interrupted her. "You were trying to teach yourself?" he asked his wife. "Well then. If you insist on learning, I can arrange for lessons.." He leered at her. "But I am of the opinion that you ride my broomstick quite well..." he trailed off, his lips twisting in an amused smirk as he started to kiss her neck.
"Do I?" she asked, tilting her head, allowing him better access.
"Yes, well, as long as it's not actually made out of wood." She blushed again, as he caught her in his arms and started towards the bedroom. He was sure he could be the best teacher, especially when it came to riding a broomstick.