A/N: This short humour piece was written as a standalone epilogue for "Like Two Drops of Water" on AO3 (rated E; you'll have to log in for it to be available) and is dedicated to my sweet friend Hwaet. It can be read without the main story.
"Yo, Milaya!"
It was Saturday and Hermione had just returned home with some pastries from a local bakery to find Antonin sitting at their garden table, coffee in hand, sunglasses on, and enjoying the mild June weather. At his greeting, her eyebrows shot skywards. He'd gone through some odd phases over the past year as he discovered more Muggle culture, but this was a new one.
"Did you just say 'yo'?"
"Yeah, yeah, what up?"
She chortled in spite of her desire to attempt to keep a straight face. She noticed a pair of headphones lying on the table with an old disc-man that he had charmed to work off of magic instead of batteries.
"What have you been listening to this time?"
Antonin had become something of a regular at a local music shop and his new cd collection was becoming something of legend in their circle of friends.
"I have discovered something called…hop hip. No, no, wait, hip hop."
She had to turn to head to bite back a laugh. It was adorable when he mixed things up, but she didn't want to discourage him. It was good to see him excited about all the things that he had missed. That often she had missed as well.
"So what do you think of it?"
"I like the rhyming and the beat. It's fun. It makes me want to dance."
He stood and pulled the pastry bag from her hand, sitting it on the table.
"And did you know…there was this thing in America, a…what was it? A show called 'The Grind'? Have you seen how those people danced?"
"No, but I'm sure you'll want to show me."
She chuckled again as he spun her around and pulled her back against his chest.
"Like so," he murmured as he placed his hands on her hips and tried to guide her into some rhythm that was still playing in his head.
She closed her eyes and relaxed against him, feeling the heat of his chest through the back of her blouse and the way his fingers splayed across her thighs. The air, full of birdsong, was ripe with promise of warmer days and barbecues, of lazy Saturdays in the garden and evenings under the stars. Even the ever-present threat of rain couldn't spoil Hermione's mood. She wanted to savour all of this — the smells of fresh blooms coming from the nearby flowerbed, this new fad that made Antonin smile, and the way he was currently holding her close. Gratitude flooded her being that she was having such a morning as this. Breakfast could wait.