Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, I just play with her fictional works.

Hermione couldn't sleep. Again. It was always the same nightmare: Voldemort was casting Avada Kedavra at Draco during the Final Battle, and instead of him ducking out of the way, the spell hit Draco square on the chest. She screamed as her boyfriend crumpled to the ground, and then she woke up with a start, heart pounding, sweat saturating the back of her pajama shirt.

The memories were still so vividly haunting, even after seven years away. Her and Draco had left Britain shortly after the end of the war to settle at one of the small, unused Malfoy estates in Greece. The coastal villa was nearly paradise for Hermione, though it had taken some getting used to before the idea of not working for a living was palatable for her. Draco, on the other hand, was immediately right at home. They only kept one house elf, Mira, that occasionally delivered supplies to the villa. Otherwise, Draco and Hermione shared in the cooking and various chores.

Tired of tossing and turning, Hermione slipped out of the sheets and quietly slipped out onto the terrace. The sound of the waves usually had a calming effect on her when she couldn't sleep. A sliver of moon hung in the sky, illuminating the white sand. Hermione sat on the low brick wall and swung her legs over the side.

"What are you doing out here, love?" Draco's sleepy voice grumbled from the doorway.

"Just some thinking." Hermione sighed, "I couldn't sleep."

"What about?"

"Whether Harry and Ron ever wondered where we disappeared off to."

"I'm sure they did, Hermione. Potter, at least. Not too sure about Weasley." Draco laughed as he walked over to join Hermione on the wall.

"I haven't spoken to them since we left." Hermione said, reaching over to grip Draco's hand in her own, "I wonder if Harry has married Ginny yet."

"We could send an owl, if you'd like."

"Would you ever go back?"

"To Britain?"

"Yes."

Draco frowned. He squeezed Hermione's hand gently. "Perhaps for a short visit. I could see my Mother. You could see your friends."

"I wouldn't even know how to start explaining everything." Hermione groaned.

"How about, 'Hey guys, I know I've been gone for seven years, but here I am married to Malfoy. Oh, and he's a Veela so don't say anything stupid or he'll eat you.' How does that sound?" Draco laughed.

"You're such an arse." Hermione laughed along with him, but she knew that Ron would definitely say something that fell within the boundaries of stupid.

"A cute arse, at least."

"You're lucky that you are or I would hex you."

"I can think of other things you could do to me instead."

The very thought sent shivers down Hermione's spine. She knew that Draco was releasing his pheromones, even though he never needed too. Hermione was a perfectly willing partner, and she loved Draco more than anything. The pheromones simply amplified their senses and emotions, but it was especially prominent in the throes of sex.

"And what did you have in mind?" Hermione whispered as she leaned over to softly meet his lips with her own.

Hermione lazily traced over Draco's scarred chest as he snoozed softly. The sunrise was streaming in through the terrace doorway, throwing specks of light over his skin. She knew that her mate did not often get a good night of sleep. If it wasn't her nightmares waking him up, it was his own, and Hermione firmly believed that his were far worse. He had been the one that had to live with Voldemort in his home for over a year. He had been the one to literally rip his aunt limb from limb after she had tortured Hermione for information on the floor of Malfoy Manor with the Cruciatus curse.

They had dated since their Fourth Year, with the knowledge that Draco's Veela would awaken on the day of his sixteenth birthday. Hermione had been thankful for those two years of preparation. The whole thing would have been so much worse had it been sprung upon her suddenly on that day. How Draco had known Hermione was his mate a full two years before his awakening, he still could not explain. It had been something in the way she smelled, or maybe something in her voice. Whatever "it" was, it had called to him, even as a dormant 14-year-old Veela.

Hermione, of course, had not been amused. But many weeks and several apologies for past behavior later, Draco had secured a relationship with her. They had kept it secret, of course. It was easier to do since Draco had not yet become an active Veela, so he felt very little involuntary pull to be around Hermione at all moments of the day. Innocent study sessions in the back of the library and not-so-innocent snogging sessions in various hidden alcoves had been perfectly agreeable to the both of them. Harry and Ron, oblivious as they were, never thought Hermione's constant disappearances to the library were anything other than normal behavior.

Ginny was a little more perceptive, and hounded Hermione about which boy or girl she constantly disappeared to go visit. Ginny assumed it was someone from either Slytherin or Ravenclaw, as it would have been obvious if Hermione was dating a Gryffindor, or even a Hufflepuff. Hermione never slipped a clue, which frustrated Ginny to no end. She gave up on discovering who it was in exchange for juicy details about Hermione and the mystery someone's escapades. Ginny also never spoke a word to Harry or Ron, as the hapless duo would have gone to even greater (and stupider) lengths to figure out who Hermione was dating.

Hermione had been the first to learn about Draco's task from Voldemort once the school year had started. He had been devastated, and Hermione had spent the entire night holding him close in the Room of Requirement. She helped him come up with decoy plans to placate the Dark Lord about Draco's progress. They planned, and waited. Waited for the day his Veela would awaken, and Draco would become much more powerful.

Veelas were naturally resistant to spells. Very few things could hurt Draco, especially if Hermione was threatened in anyway. The greater the potential danger, the more invincible Draco would become. If Hermione were to ever fall pregnant, Draco's senses and possessiveness would heighten exponentially until the child was born, and gradually mellow out until the child's first birthday.

Draco stilling Hermione's hand with his own interrupted her thoughts. He peered at her face with one eye open, making Hermione blush.

"Thinking again?" Draco inquired sleepily.

"Perhaps." Hermione whispered, leaning over to kiss his nose. "Would you want kids?"

"Kids?" Draco's other eye popped open as his eyebrows flew up his forehead.

"Yea, kids."

"Of course, I want kids. Why?" Draco squinted at Hermione's face, "Are you pregnant?"

"I think you'd be able to tell if I was, you silly man." Hermione laughed. Draco growled and pulled Hermione on top of him, forcing her to straddle his hips.

"So why are you asking?"

"I was thinking about quitting the contraceptive potions. I'm 25, you're 24, I think we've waited long enough to decide whether to have children together." Hermione could feel Draco purr deeply beneath where her hands laid on his chest. Veela were typically very enthusiastic about children, and Draco was no different. She smiled, "I can tell you agree."

"How soon until the last potion you took wears off?" Draco whispered, kissing up and down Hermione's neck and shoulder.

"Two days."

"That's so long from now."

"Gives us time to practice."

"Brilliant idea."