AN: This started out as just one drabble, but the plot wouldn't leave me alone. Enjoy.

The Invitation

Hermione sighed and took a long drag of her cigarette, tilting her head back to gaze at the sky. Releasing her breath, she peered through the smoke. The stars were bright tonight, even through a haze of nicotine, gin, and the smooth croon of a saxophone oozing its way out of apartment 3A. A breeze floated in, bringing with it the sweet smell of jasmine. Cicadas buzzed noisily in the trees. Sliding down further in her wrought iron chair, Hermione hummed lazily, taking another drag. Looking up as the door slid open, she smiled at her husband.

"Come here."