Hi everyone! Thank you so much for your feedback, they really make me smile. It's great to see you all enjoying the story - it's always a challenge creating a sequel that's as enjoyable as the original, so I'm extra happy that you're having a good time. Keep em' coming, please, and tell a friend!

Morning.

Lying in his lonely bed, Draco opened an eye to discover the sun streaming through the window, Crookshanks kneading his pillow and a happy Hermione bouncing up and down on the mattress.

Not, however, in the way he would have preferred.

'You're full of beans this morning,' he grumbled.

'Of course!' Hermione kept bouncing. 'It's sight-seeing day! It's going to be so exciting!'

Draco groaned and rolled over, only to have his nostrils filled with orange fur. He sneezed and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He held out a hand to Hermione. 'You're beginning to make me sea-sick, love.'

'Sorry,' she smiled. She took his hand and sat next to him, ousting an indignant Crooks, who jumped off the bed, stomped around it and jumped back on to sit on Draco's other side. 'Good morning, Mr Malfoy.'

'Good morning, woman I love.' He smiled sleepily, drew her in for a one-armed hug and dropped a kiss on her forehead.

With his free hand, Draco patted Crooks, who immediately revved up his purr. Turning back to Hermione, he said 'You seem very excited for someone who lives in London and has seen everything a dozen times already.'

'That's because I'm excited for you! There are so many things to see and do, and it will be really fun to see London through the eyes of a non-Muggle-born wizard.' She kissed his cheek. 'That's where you come in.'

He raised an aristocratic eyebrow. 'You mean, you're using me for a social experiment?'

She cocked her head and thought. 'You know? I would never have thought of it that way.' She gasped with delight. 'Maybe I could write a paper on it for my Healer's course? Oh, but to do it properly, I'd have to dump you somewhere in London and expect you to visit all the destinations and find your way out by yourself without using magic, and' –

Draco clamped a hand on her mouth.

'I was just kidding,' she grinned, when he cautiously removed it.

Draco looked sceptical. The woman had a very singular focus when it came to education.

'I'll make breakfast if you want to have a shower,' she suggested.

In reply, Draco closed the bedroom door with his wand and jumped, au naturel, on top of Hermione. 'Are your parents home?' he whispered, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

'Dad's gone to work, but Mum's still here.'

Draco dropped his head in disappointment, burying his head between Hermione's breasts. Which were clothed, unfortunately.

Meanwhile, Crooks had developed an interest in the lightly golden, sculpted perfection that was Draco's arse and slunk his way over for an inspection.

Hermione wrapped her arms around Draco. 'Should we listen to Mum's sex lecture?' she asked carefully.

Draco thought. 'Not yet,' he said thoughtfully. Then: 'Ow!'

He and Hermione glared at Crooks, who had unsheathed a claw and had given Draco's bum an experimental poke. He stared innocently back.

Hermione wriggled out from under Draco. 'I'll see you downstairs. C'mon, Crooks!'

She strolled out of the bedroom. Crooks ignored her.

Draco looked at the furry orange beastie. 'Are you allowed to have sex?' he asked.

Going by the look on Crooks' face, he didn't think so.

Draco gathered up his clothes and towel and headed to the bathroom he shared with Hermione. Starting the shower, he shrugged himself out of his robe (which he wore for the sole purpose of not wanting Andrew and/or Jean to bump into him in the hall and see for themselves what their daughter already has first-hand knowledge of), dropped it to the floor and answered the call of nature.

He cautiously returned to the robe, which was writhing about on the floor, lifted it up, discovered Crookshanks underneath it, tossed him out of the bathroom and hopped into the shower.

After washing all there was to wash, he took his semi-hard cock in his hand and stroked it into hardness.

At least, he tried to stroke it into hardness.

But hardness was having a hard time achieving its desired state.

Draco was alarmed. This hasn't happened before.

He leaned back against the shower tiles and sighed. It was the house. Or, more specifically, Hermione's parents. Although they were lovely and well-meaning people, the thought of having sex with their cherised daughter under their roof, likely just a few feet away from their bedroom, made Big Drake the One-Eyed Snake's interest fall a little flat.

What were he, Hermione and Big Drake going to do, then?

'Have you got everything, dear?' Jean asked from the kitchen doorway.

'I think so, Mum! I'll just check.' In the hallway, Hermione heaved her backpack onto the side table and pulled out its contents. 'Purse, phone, bottled water, map of the city, sunscreen, mini first aid kit, hat, sunglasses, snacks, sight-seeing schedule, sweatshirt in case it gets cold. And wand. Yup. Got everything!'

Draco looked on in amazement at the items that kept coming and coming out of the backpack.

Hermione crammed everything back in and slung the bag over her shoulders. She looked Draco up and down, taking in his jeans and two-toned, slim-fit slate shirt a little more hungrily than she should. He preened in her admiring gaze. Until she got to his feet.

'Are you going to wear those?'

He looked down at his black oxfords. 'Considering that they are on my feet, I believe I will be, yes.'

'Don't you have any trainers?'

'I don't know. What are they?'

'Well, they're like what I'm wearing.'

Draco looked at Hermione's feet and successfully supressed a shudder. She appeared to be wearing a type of shoe with cloth uppers connected to soles of that rubbery-looking material. The upper parts were coloured dark blue, light blue, pink and purple. Blue laces. In all, they were, according to Draco's wizard-honed fashion sense, fucking disgusting. And they clashed with her faded denim skirt and unbleached linen peasant top.

'No love, I don't have any of those… things,' he said, sounding a little too like Lucius than was comfortable.

She pursed her lips. 'We're going to be doing a lot of walking,' she said doubtfully.

'I'll be fine. Come on, let's go.'

'But you could transfigure them' –

'No.'

'Well, do you have a hat?' she asked exasperatedly.

Draco looked down his Malfoy nose at her. 'Woman, hideous glow-in-the-dark shoes and articles of clothing that hide my lustrous hair are not items that will ever darken the doorway of a Malfoy's wardrobe. I hope I have made myself clear.'

She sighed and left him to his stupid Malfoy pride.

'Oh, goody! There's space right outside Buckingham Palace!' Hermione dragged a rather white and shaking Draco along Birdcage Walk, heading to the magnificent London residence of Queen Elizabeth II, where they were going to watch the Changing of the Guard.

When she found a spot near the entrance to the Palace, she put down her backpack and looked at her boyfriend properly for the first time since leaving the Underground station.

'Oh, my God! Are you okay?'

Draco leaned against the Palace's railings and closed his eyes. Cold sweat trickled from his temples. 'Hermione. If you love me, you will never, ever, make me enter the belly of an underground monster ever again.'

Hermione scrabbled for a bottle of water and held it out to him. 'Wow. I didn't know you were claustrophobic. I'm sorry, hon. We can take buses instead.'

Draco took a large swig of water and splashed some on his face. 'I didn't know I was claustrophobic, either. Are there potions – er, medicines for it?'

'No,' she replied sadly. 'It's one of those things that's in your head. I understand that one type of cure is immersion therapy.'

'Oh? How does that work?'

'Well, you keep riding the Underground over and over and over' –

'Yeah okay, Granger, I get it. No thanks.'

He handed the bottle back to Hermione, who put it back in her bag and took out her phone to check for messages.

'Excuth me?'

Draco looked around for the source of the little voice, to no avail. Then he looked down, and saw the cutest little girl with nut-brown hair tied in two long pigtails, freckled cheeks and the hugest, greenest eyes he'd ever seen.

'Uh, me?' Draco asked.

The pig-tails bobbed up and down. The little girl blushed (which made her cute little cheeks a million times cuter) and she scuffed her shoe on the ground. 'Will you let my Mummy take a picture of me and you togevver, pleath?' she whispered-lisped shyly.

Oh, right. He's Troy Fendalton's doppelgänger. Funny how one tends to forget these sorts of things.

He glanced helplessly at Hermione, who registered the cute little darling staring adoringly up at her boyfriend. Over the sound of her ovaries dancing the Fandango, she whispered 'You might as well. She'll dissolve into tears if you tell her you're not Troy, and she probably wouldn't believe you, anyway. And then you'll feel like' – she mouthed the word 'shit.'

Oh, cripes. Sometimes he wished he could be a selfish prat again. Life was simpler then.

However, it was also Hermione-free, so that wouldn't do.

Turning back to the little girl, he knelt down, smiled and said 'Okay, but just one photo, all right?'

'Yaaaayyyy!' She skipped back to a nearby fashionable yummy mummy who had a baby strapped to her front in a carry wrap. 'He said yeth, Mummy!'

'Shh, don't wake Timothy,' Yummy Mummy gently admonished. 'Okay, just let me get my phone.' She fished around inside Timothy's wrap until she extracted a silver-backed phone roughly the size of the baby's head.

'Thanks so much for doing this,' she smiled, ushering her adorably excited daughter towards Draco. 'She's such a fan.' Then, obviously remembering that many of Troy Fendalton's movies were not altogether appropriate for children, she stammered 'She only watches your parental-guidance-recommended movies. Under strict parental guidance.'

Draco looked swiftly to Hermione for a translation.

Seeing her nod and smile, he in turn nodded and smiled at Yummy Mummy. 'Well - that's great.'

Someone should write a Muggle-Wizard lexicon, he thought.

He crouched down again next to the darling little girl and put an arm lightly around her tiny shoulder. Her face lit up, and before Draco knew it, she'd wrapped her little arms around as much of him as she could and kissed his cheek.

Click!

Mummy checked her phone. 'Oh, that's so lovely!' she cooed.

She showed her phone screen to Draco along with Hermione, who peered over his shoulder.

'Aww…' Hermione's bottom lip wobbled. It was a perfect photo. When the little girl kissed his cheek, Draco's smile broadened into a candid laugh. They looked like a beautiful mini family: a doting father with his adorable little daughter.

She looked around for a convenient but preferably private spot to take Draco so he could get her pregnant. They had ten minutes before the ceremony started. Plenty of time.

No! She shook her curls and took control of her hormones. 'That's a lovely photo,' she said to Mummy. Would you mind if you sent it to us?'

Mummy looked at Hermione with surprise. 'Who are you?'

'Um. Troy's… publicist.'

Mummy smiled widely. 'Of course! What's your Instagram address?' Then she frowned. 'You won't use it for publicity purposes, will you? I don't want dear little Matilda to end up somewhere unscrupulous on the internet.'

'Of course not!' Hermione assured her. 'This is just for Dra- uh, Troy's personal album.' Meanwhile, Hermione's internal voice moaned 'Omigod her name's Matilda that's so cute I'm going to DIE…'

Yummy Mummy smiled again, and entered Hermione's address into her phone.

Mummy, Matilda and a completely oblivious Timothy went back to their viewing spot, and Draco turned to Hermione. 'I'd forgotten all about Troy,' he said in a low voice. 'Do you think I'm going to get hassled all day – hey! What's wrong? Are you okay?'

Hermione turned her flushed face with a wobbly lower lip to Draco. 'Yes!' she said brightly. Then two tears trailed down her cheeks, and the wobbly lower lip picked up in wobbles.

Thoroughly alarmed, and mindful of surrounding busybodies looking on, Draco gathered her into her arms and hugged her tight. 'What's the matter, love?' he whispered. 'Take a deep breath and tell me how I can help you.'

Her body trembled in his arms. 'Don't make me say it!' she moaned.

He was completely at a loss. 'Don't make you say what?'

She stilled. Then she moaned and blurted: 'I want to have a baby!'

Draco's eyes widened. 'Really?'

'Yes! No! Hormones!'

Draco understood two of the three words, but once again he was washed out to the Sea of Total Fucking Confusion. But the one thing he did get was that the woman he loved was upset. And he hated to see her upset.

To be fair, Draco had spent all of his sexually active years avoiding getting anyone pregnant, but if Hermione wanted it, well… maybe he should put some thought into it, at least. He owed it to his lineage to populate Malfoy Manor with at least one sprog. His mother would kill him, otherwise.

And he couldn't see him having a child with anyone other than the young woman in his arms.

He articulated his response with caution. 'If you're sure you want to, then' –

Hermione snuffled into his chest and looked up. Her cheeks were still flushed, but the tears had dried up. 'It's okay,' she smiled. 'I saw Matilda and I got completely carried away. It's much too soon for us to even think about having children, let alone talk about having children. Not to mention actually having children.'

Okay. All right. Draco nodded. 'Sounds wise to me, beautiful.'

So why did he feel like a little part of his heart stopped beating?

Suddenly, Draco's ears were assaulted by a noise that he could only describe as a couple of dozen cats having their innards squeezed out by a troll.

Hermione turned in his arms. 'Oh, look! The Changing of the Guard's starting!'

Draco's ears were still ringing when Hermione led them to their next destination, just a hop and a skip over Westminster Bridge - across a stretch of water known as the Thames.

He'd also narrowly avoided going cross-eyed trying to figure out if the men in scarlet coats and enormous black fuzzy hats (Merlin knows what those could be compensating for) wielding monstrous drums or shiny screeching musical instruments were marching anywhere in particular. It seemed to him that all they were doing was going around, making sure that all the bystanders personally received their maximum daily allowance of Bloody Loud Noise.

Still, it was a well-co-ordinated spectacle. No-one dropped their instruments, skidded on a pile of steaming horse droppings or took a wrong turn and ended up in the Queen's bedroom by mistake.

He quite liked the horses at the front and rear of the procession, but Hermione said they weren't part of the Guard. They were Police horses. The Police are the Muggle alternative to Aurors, she explained. So, Draco presumed the horses were the Muggle alternative to brooms.

He smiled smugly. He was quite getting the hang of this Muggle business – oh, hang on.

'Mr Fendalton!'

Three Japanese tourists stood in front of Draco, sporting beaming grins and fearsome-looking cameras.

'Mr Fendalton!' saluted the middle one, a gent of about forty years old, wearing brand-new Levi 501s ('jeans,' to Draco) and a t-shirt that said 'I'm in London, Bitch!' He and his two companions, both young women, bowed.

Draco looked out of the corner of his eye to Hermione. She shrugged, but bowed back, so Draco copied her. Including the shrug.

'Mr Fendalton! Yes!' The young lady on the left beamed, and bowed again. She wore ridiculously short cut-off denims and a pink singlet with the Union Jack that said 'If I Lived in London, I'd be Home by Now.'

'I'm not Mr Fendalton,' Draco replied.

The young lady on the right said 'Mr Fendalton, yes!' and also beamed and bowed again. She wore identical cut-off denims, and her singlet said 'I Hate London if it's Not Raining.'

'I'm not Mr Fendalton!'

The trio looked at each other, then the man said 'Troy Fendalton, yes!' All three beamed and bowed.

Draco sighed. 'All right, yes, get on with it.'

Draco posed with the group while:

1. the man took a photo with Draco and the two girls

2. the girl on the left took a photo with Draco, the man and the girl on the right

3. the girl on the right took a photo with Draco, the man and the girl on the left

4. Hermione took photos, using each of their cameras, of the complete group.

You never saw three happier Japanese tourists in London in your life.

With many bows, thank-yous and bye-byes, the trio sailed off, cameras flashing like strobe lights.

Draco realised how much golden butt cheek each girl displayed beneath their shorts as they walked away, and his eyebrows shot to the heavens in shock.

And stayed up in appreciation.

'Ahem.'

Draco turned around and saw Hermione glaring at him.

'You'd look gorgeous in those shorts, love,' he said hastily.

She rolled her eyes.

'Well! Here we are,' Hermione said breezily. 'The London Eye.'

Draco looked up.

Slytherin's tits, that's a big wheel.

Hermione explained that there were thirty-two passenger capsules attached to the wheel, which passengers go in. It took about thirty minutes for the wheel to complete a rotation and you got jolly good views of London while you did so.

Draco's interest picked up. It had been months since he was on a broom for any reason other than flying morosely around Malfoy Manor, so he was certainly interested in what looked like would be a very slow ride above the London landscape. 'Sounds good!' he said.

'Great!' Hermione replied. 'Well, the ticket line is just over there. I'll see you later.'

She got one step away before Draco clamped a hand on her arm. 'Hang on a minute,' he drawled. 'And where are those ridiculously-coloured shoes taking you?'

'Nowhere!' she stammered. 'I was just going to sit on a park bench and read my phone until you got back.'

Draco crossed his arms. 'You're still scared of heights.'

Hermione and her hair bristled. 'I am not. It's just that – well, you know' –

Draco put a gentle finger to her lips. 'Do you know how this wheel thing was built?'

She brightened. 'Oh, yes! You see, it's a cantilevered observation wheel mounted on an A-frame' –

Draco's finger returned to her lips. 'You see, you probably know more about the construction of this wheel than anyone lining up to buy tickets. I have no sodding idea how it was built, but I'm prepared to trust the good people who designed and built this thing to get me safely around. As are all these other people.' He waved a hand at the orderly queue of tourists. 'Don't you think this is an ideal time for you to put your logic to good use? Nothing will happen.'

Hermione sulked. 'How do you know?'

He drew her in and kissed her gently. 'I won't let anything happen to you. That's how I know.'

Her heartbeat raced, and a smile spread over her face. This was one of many reasons why she loved him.

'All right, then.'

'Marvellous!'

They linked hands, and joined the ticket line.

Unfortunately, Hermione's new-found resolve deserted her when, locked inside the passenger capsule, the wheel started its gentle motion.

'I changed my mind. I want to get off.' Hermione lurched to the door, but Draco grabbed her hand and used her momentum to twirl her around.

'Come on, Granger,' he whispered. 'Don't want to let the team down in front of all these strangers, do we?'

Hermione looked cautiously around at the other passengers, most of whom had plastered their faces up to the capsule glass, ooh-ing and aah-ing at the mucky Thames water beneath. Only one kid, a boy of about ten with short black dreadlocks, looked their way curiously.

She clutched Draco's hand with a death grip. 'Don't let go,' she pleaded.

'I won't let go, love.' Draco didn't think he could, even if he wanted to.

They got to fifteen minutes in when Hermione started shaking. They were at the top of the wheel, so Draco presumed that all the blue sky and fluffy clouds was getting to her.

Draco pulled her into his arms and held her tight. 'You're doing really well, love.'

Inarticulate snuffling noises rose from where her head met his chest.

He stroked her back. If only he had some Calming Draught. He was surprised it wasn't in Hermione's bottomless backpack.

'She feeling poorly, then?' A grandmotherly-type with short hair tinted pink peered over at Hermione's trembling curls.

'She's not very good with heights,' Draco said apologetically. And I'm the one who made her get on this thing. And she didn't say anything about me hating the Underground. Merlin's minge, I'm a bad boyfriend.

'Chin up, luv!' the grandmother shouted. Godric knew why. 'Yer on the 'ome run now!'

Hermione peeked over Draco's arm and smiled a wobbly smile at the old lady. She beamed toothlessly back.

'I'm really sorry,' Draco said in a low voice. 'I shouldn't have goaded you.'

She shook her head. 'I know that what I'm feeling is illogical. And this experience hasn't been completely and utterly terrifying so far.' This time, her smile was a little stronger.

'Are you enjoying the view?' she asked.

'Sure am. Everything I've seen is beautiful,' he said, looking only at her.

She blushed, and Draco leaned down to kiss her, very gently, on the lips.

'Aww, ain't tha' luvverly?' cooed the grandmother, and all the other passengers turned around.

Draco joined Hermione in the blushing.

'Excuse me?'

Draco was starting to hate that phrase.

This time, the questioner was the boy with the mop-top of short dreadlocks. 'Yes?'

The dreadlocked boy peered at Draco suspiciously. 'Yer not Troy Fendalton, are yer?'

Draco was extremely happy to hear that. 'No, mate, I'm not.'

Dreadlocked boy nodded slowly, thinking. 'Didn't fink so. That's not Troy's girlfriend yer holding, at any rate.'

Draco braced for the comparisons between Hermione and what's-her-name's tits, but they never came. Still, you never knew. Ten-year-olds are very knowledgeable these days. Draco himself was rather taken with the female form back then.

'Can I get a photo of you anyway, then?' the boy asked.

He shrugged. 'Sure, I guess.' However, when he let go of Hermione, she shrieked and leapt onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, setting the grandmother off into hoots of laughter. Her denim skirt rode up indecently, giving the dreadlocked boy something to raise his eyebrows about.

'Uh, how about when we get outside?' Draco suggested, trying to pull Hermione's hem down with one hand.

Dumbstruck, the boy nodded and backed away. Draco didn't want to think about what the kid saw to make his eyes bug out like that.

He spent the last five minutes of the ride convincing Hermione that his body was not a jungle gym and that she really should get down now.

After that adventure, the couple decided it was time for elevenses. They bought takeaway coffees, strolled to St. James's Park and sat on a park bench. Draco cautiously eyed the absolutely huge resident pelicans who were nodding off in the sun while Hermione flicked through a newspaper that had been left behind by a previous bench occupant.

'Where did these pelican-things come from?' Draco asked. 'Do they normally live in London?'

Hermione looked up briefly from the paper. 'They're from North America usually,' she said. 'But some were given to King Charles II from the Russian Ambassador in 1664, and they've lived here ever since.'

Funny how he used to find Hermione's encyclopaedic knowledge really irritating at school. But now he thought it was awesome. All the answers at his fingertips, wrapped up in a rather tasty package, to boot.

'I think the joke was on the King,' Draco observed.

Silence.

'I said' –

'Uh-oh,' muttered Hermione. She picked up the newspaper and set it down between them.

A headline at the top of the page read: 'Ratbag Troy Cheats on Sage with Mystery Woman!'

And just below that was a photo of Draco and Hermione at the train station. Kissing.

A/N: very sorry for the cliff-hanger, and the lack of sexy times. Sexy times will be fulfilled in the next chapter. Or maybe the one after that. There will be considerable sexy times for Big Drake the One-Eyed Snake! Promise!