Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling!!!

Yankee Accents

Chapter Nineteen: Guns 'N Roses

Written By: Auburn Lily

"Hermione, where are those books I let you borrow?" Jessa yelled from the doorway of Harry's rooms. "I need them to finish packing!!"

A muffled reply answered this demand and Hermione came hurtling down the steps a few moments later, three trunks following her. "I know Jessa, you told me earlier this morning and last night and yesterday morning. I know you need them. Hold on a second. Besides we're all going to the same place, so be a little more patient okay?" Hermione answered, quite irritably.

Ever since Harry had found Draco and herself having an intense snog session in an empty corridor a few days earlier, he had been extremely cold and distant towards her. This had not done wonders for her mood, in any case.

Hermione stared around the empty common room, looking for any misplaced items. The bookshelf in the corner had been cleaned of all books on Arithmancy and Ancient Runes that Hermione could find, and Hermione had already searched under all of the couches for any offending objects that may have crept under them.

"Well?" Jessa asked rudely, her hands on her hips. "I'm almost done packing and I want to get over there as soon as possible. Sinead said they're all going down to the beach. I love the beach."

"Jessa, we're only a floo-away. Calm down, Merlin all mighty, I tell you." Hermione replied as Crookshanks curled around her ankles, brushing his bottlebrush tail against her bare legs. "They're packed, anyways. Can't you just wait until we get to their house and unpack?"

"No, I need everything to be in its rightful place, or else I feel as if I'm forgetting something and I hate that feeling."

"Fine," Hermione huffed, and threw herself in front of one of her trunks, causing Crookshanks to hiss rather over-dramatically and shoot out from under her. She lifted the lid violently to reveal hundreds of books somehow packed into the small confines of the trunk. Hermione shoved a few books aside, and then found the ones Jessa had let her burrow, tossing them to Jessa before shutting the lid again. Dust flew up in little puffs of smoke. "Happy?" Hermione asked, her mouth set in a thin line of annoyed anger.

"Yes," Jessa replied calmly, now much more content that she had gotten her way, however trivial it may have seemed. "Where's Harry?" she asked curiously, looking around the common room for any sign of the man.

"He left," Hermione replied bitterly, levitating her trunks once more and directing them over to the fireplace. "Right after the students were gone yesterday morning, he left for Ron's place."

"Oh well, I'm almost done, I'll be over in a bit with the rest of my trunks okay?" Jessa announced, before taking her leave through the door once more.

Hermione set her three trunks down inside the fireplace and after adding a few pinches of floo powder yelled "Number 7 Wilgus Cemetery Place!" The luggage disappeared in an instant. She sat down heavily on the couch, waiting for Jessa to return, and thinking bitterly of Harry's attitude towards her the last few days.

He really was being incredibly disagreeable with her. He barely spoke to her, and when he did, it was short, concise statements, like "yes," and "no," and "sure." She knew, of course, that he was upset with her for fraternizing with Draco, but what was she supposed to do? Draco was here in the school, a few hallways down, so what was she supposed to do, sit back on her fat rear sulking all day long? Not likely.

And it hadn't been her fault anyway that Draco had found her; if he wasn't so nosy and maybe if he wasn't so insistent about always knowing where Hermione was all the time, he wouldn't be feeling so downcast right now.

"Humph," Hermione spat gruffly, folding her arms over her chest. 'Well, he'll have to be friendly to me when I get to Ron's so we can keep up this double act thing going on,' Hermione thought in a satisfied way.

About ten minutes later, a bunch of raucous was heard outside the door, which announced that Jessa was having serious issues with her trunks. Hermione waited for Jessa to successfully place all five of her trunks into the fireplace before she stood up and sent them on their way.

"Thanks," Jessa said as she wiped sweat from her brow.

"Sure," Hermione replied calmly. "Let's go."

Upon arrival at Number 7 Wilgus Cemetery Place, Hermione and Jessa found the house in absolute uproar. The children were running all over the place in their little, brightly colored bathing suits. They were clinging to what looked like toy broomsticks and some even had fake muggle guns that were emitting puffs of smoke and loud noises every few moments.

Allyn, who pretended to be sophisticated and "grown-up", was leading a pack of about 9 younger children, all of who appeared to have war paint on their faces. Hermione could pick out Siobhan and Aidan in this particular group, and the children were chanting some odd kind of war cry.

Hermione and Jessa proceeded into the kitchen, where they met an even more bizarre scene. Baby Brina was sitting in a high chair with noodles and cheerios stuck on her face and Arthur was attempting to feed her mashed-up peaches out of a glass jar. Sinead was standing near the stove, next to three other red headed women, who were all within an inch of Sinead's height. They were all stuffing a bunch of food into a lined box that resembled a muggle cooler. At the table sat Brendan, and eight other children that Hermione didn't recognize. They were all shoving food into their mouths at alarming rates.

"Sinead," Hermione yelled across the racket that was being made in the kitchen. The Wizarding Wireless was blaring out something that sounded remarkably like the dead legend Selena. Arthur was now cooing very loudly at Brina, and Brendan and his companions were picking up the war chants again. They had decided to circle the table in some sort of ceremonial dance, humming and shouting sporadically. And to add mess to the already brimming cauldron, Ron entered the kitchen through the other door, bringing Fred and George with him.

"What?" Sinead shot back, not really aware who was calling for her.

"Sinead, do you need any help?" Hermione asked, but as she spoke the words, she saw that it was going to be near impossible to cross the kitchen tiles, as the children were now snaking under the table legs and chairs, and through the legs of Arthur, Sinead, and her three sisters.

"Oh, hi Hermione," Ron called from his doorway. "Sinead, we do NOT need that much food!!!"

"Ron, if you're not going to help, then get out. Can't you see how crowded it is already?"

"Sinead, where are all the kids? They're all over the place and I can't find any of them!!"

"Does it look like I would know?" Sinead demanded loudly, as she placed an open bottle of firewhiskey precariously atop a stack of apples. "Go find them, we're leaving soon. And get this," she added, gesturing to the children who were now shooting fake bullets at themselves, "out into the garden. NOW!!"

"Okay, okay, I'm going," Ron replied, shaking his head exasperatedly at Hermione from across the room. "Stay there, I'll tell you what to do when I get over there!" he called to her.

Hermione nodded back at him, and waited for him to come through the hall from the other side. When he did, she noticed that Fred and George had already gone. She supposed that they got separate assignments.

"Now, this is going to be hard," Ron was saying, looking at the children. "There are about six different tribes like this located all around the house. I already sent Fred and George to find two of them, and now we can each find one. I'll send this one out into the gardens. Maybe they can start de-gnoming like I asked them to earlier."

Hermione was sent to search the first floor, while Jessa went to the second, and Hermione soon found out that the entire house was like the kitchen. In the sitting room sat a whole bunch of redheads Hermione couldn't recognize who were all arguing so intently over something that they didn't even notice when she came in to search the room. They kind of reminded her of a bunch of Greeks.

However, Hermione found no tribes in this room either, so she carried on to the next, which was the drawing room. Some more people were in this room, and a few at least said hellos, although they were gathered around what looked like a muggle television set. Hermione wondered why on earth Sinead and Ron had a muggle television in their house and how it could possibly work well with all of the magic floating around in the air.

Then she remembered that Arthur was there.

Upon closer inspection, Hermione found a few smoky, suspicious looking arrows that were clinging to a few paintings. So, after getting rid of the arrows with a swift flick of her wand, she carried on into the next room.

This room, which looked like a study, was devoid of people. However, it did appear that the tribe had visited this as well. A large globe, which was covered in multi-colored tacks, had been knocked to the floor, and the bookcases that lined the walls were empty of books, because they were all lying on the faded carpet that was depicting a very messy goblin rebellion. It appeared that the children, or natives, or whatever you wished to call them, had deemed it necessary to climb up the bookcase. Papers lay strewn over top of the ancient books, and the desk in the corner rattled.

A boggart.

After Hermione cleaned up the mess that the children had made, she carried on out into a hallway. She really didn't want to deal with the boggart at the moment. She didn't even want to know what it was her worst fear would be.

A few old statues lay on the ground, and a few more paintings were hanging crookedly off the wall. After straightening these out as well, Hermione stepped through the first door she saw and she finally found one of the groups.

Inside was Allyn's group, which was a relief because she didn't know how she was going to get a bunch of them to listen to her if they didn't even know her.

This room was some sort of warped playroom; the walls and floor were rough stone, and torch brackets hung from the walls. A faint dripping of water could probably be heard if the yelling and screaming hadn't been ricocheting off of the walls at that moment. But the floor was covered in some sort of worn rug, which was decorated in geometrical shapes and faded colors that were probably once bright. A huge, out-of-place couch (it was covered in white leather that had pink and orange juice stains all over it) was placed smack dab in the middle of a bunch of broken toys that were strewn all over the place. Some child counting music was drifting out of another Wizarding Wireless box in the corner of the room.

It reminded Hermione strongly of the dungeons at Hogwarts. This reminded her of Draco because he taught in the dungeons.

And atop the couch, and the toy shelves, sat or stood the children that Hermione had seen in the hall. They didn't even notice that she had entered the room they were yelling so loudly.

"Silencio," Hermione yelled, lifting her wand. Immediately, the sound was cut off in the room, and the children were left mouthing war chants. Confusion etched itself on their faces as they slowly realized that they weren't making any noise. "Sonorus," Hermione added, pointing the wand to her throat. The children were slowly acknowledging her presence. "Now," she announced. "My name is Hermione. Allyn knows me," she said, nodding to Allyn who blushed a bright crimson. "We are all going to go outside, and you will continue your war or whatever it is that you are doing, out there. You are NOT, under any circumstances, to re-enter this house. When we get outside I will lift the spell. Now, follow me."

And the children followed her through the house and out the front door. She walked them around the back, where three of the other tribes, including Brendan's, were now congregated. It appeared that they were conspiring, as they were all huddled together tightly. As soon as they caught sight of the group Hermione was leading, they broke apart, running around and screaming at the top of their little lungs, their arms thrashing and flailing madly.

Hermione muttered the counter spell to the silencing charm that she had placed on her group, and then whispered "Quietus," before letting herself back into the house through the kitchen door.

Currently in the kitchen was Sinead, her three sisters, Arthur, Brina, Fred and Jessa. The huge cooler that was being packed earlier was now sitting atop of a towering stack of beach toys. The Wizarding Wireless in the corner was now singing softly about bubbles and toils and troubles. It was a version of the famous song Hermione had never heard before.

"Hello, everyone," Hermione announced.

"Hello, Hermione," Sinead said from the stove, still taking great gulps out of the firewhiskey she held. "Have I introduced you to my sisters?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Oh, well, this one's Bridgett," she said, motioning to the one who was leaning against the refrigerator. "And this one's Ciannait," she said, pointing out the one next to her. "And this last one's Enya" she said, gesturing towards the one who was standing next to Fred. They all looked alike, with their long red hair and sea-green eyes and each had the others smile when they nodded their heads at Hermione.

"Hello, nice to meet you all," Hermione replied politely. "Sinead, I don't mean to be rude, but who're all these people in your house? And whose are all those kids?"

"Oh, well," Sinead began. "I have a very large family. They're all staying here because someone's just got married. I invited them to stay a little while more, to see my baby," she explained, patting her large, round belly.

"Where will they all stay?" Hermione asked, for the first time in her life staring at someone dumbfounded.

"Well, a few weeks back, after you came to stay for that weekend, Ron and I decided that we should go through all of the rooms and get rid of everything dark that was in them. So we did, and we came across this door that led into these amazing underground rooms. They were already furnished, all of them, like these up here. It's perfect to keep a bunch of people in."

At that moment, Ron entered through the door Hermione had just entered into, and knocked her on the bum. "Scuse', Hermione," he muttered, searching the room for his wife. Upon finding her, he announced that all of the children had been rounded up and were all playing in the back yard.

"Did you remove the war paint?" Sinead asked, taking another particularly large gulp of firewhiskey. The bottle seemed to automatically refill.

"Damn," Ron cursed. "I knew I had forgotten something." He said, turning to the back door again. "Has anyone seen Harry?" he asked curiously, pausing with his hand on the doorknob.

General murmurs of negativity could be heard all around the kitchen, until Jessa volunteered eagerly to look for him.

"Actually Jessa," Hermione said. "I'll come with you. I have to unpack anyways."

As they entered the hallway, they heard Ron yelling at Sinead for the amount of beach toys they were taking down the cliff.

Most of the summer spent at Number 7 Wilgus Cemetery Place was rainy, gray and overcast. The sky was heavy, the grounds saturated in water, and when Hermione stood outside staring over the cliff out into the ocean, she wasn't able to tell the sky and sea apart. It was all varying shades of gray.

And this only reminded her of Draco.

But, not all the days were humid and wet. A few were fresh and hot, with cool breezes floating in over the ocean. And on these days was Number 7 Wilgus Cemetery Place was a truly charming home. Lush and green and bursting with the unexpected it was, with gnome gardens hidden in parts of the yard and vegetable plots and exotic flower beds popping up all over the place.

The cliff on the grounds was steep and sharp, but at the bottom of the rocky steps was a strip of beach, complete with golden sands and gray-blue foamy waves that crashed on rocky crags. Algae and seaweed swam in the ocean water, tickling the children's toes as they looked for shells and worn bottle glass. Dolphins could be seen each morning leaping over the water, which was stained pink and gold from the brilliant sunrises. Pine trees sat back a bit from the beach and pine mixed with salt had to be the sweetest scent Hermione ever did smell. Everyday at the beach was spent listening to shorebirds calls and children's laughter and the latest hits on the wizarding wireless. Every evening was spent sipping tea and coffee and laughing at each other's jokes.

The days that did dawn bright and cloudless were spent listening to Ron and Sinead's petty arguing, which was done over things like the amount of food that was to be taken down to the beach or why the children needed so many toys if they never even played with them. These spats were usually won by Sinead.

Hermione also found that upon closer inspection, and forced meetings by Ron, that Sinead's family was indeed like a bunch of Greeks. They barely had any Greek in them, however, as one of Sinead's aunt's, christened Liadan, had insisted on informing Hermione of. They were an incredibly odd family, with their infectious weirdness pervading throughout the walls of the house and their intense arguments that included everyone. It seemed that they argued over everything, right down to which fork was to be used if one were to partake in a formal dinner party.

The most bizarre and eccentric member of the family that Hermione met, however, probably had to be Uncle Niles, as the children called him. One night, he deemed it absolutely necessary that Hermione hear his entire life story.

"Now," he started. "As you can see, I'm a vizard." For some odd reason, he was speaking in a forced Bulgarian accent. Sinead had already explained to them that Uncle Niles liked to sporadically pick different types of accents and jump back and forth between them. Eventually, if he were talking for a long enough period of time, he would unknowingly lapse back into his normal Irish. "I vanted to be an auror, but after two and a half years of training at the Irish Ministry, I decided that it vasn't vhat I vanted to do. It vas much to tedious and vorrisome.

"So, I attended a muggle college for about fifteen years or so. I studied for, and earned, about five different degrees, because I couldn't properly decide what it was zhat I wanted to do. Zhere were zhings zhat after I earned zhe degree, I decided zhat my interests still lay elsewhere." Now, he had switched from Bulgarian to some sort of western French accent, and Hermione was finding it hard to follow his mutating speech. "A few of zhe zhings zhat I studied were veterinarian work, neuron-surgery, and teaching.

"Now, you would understand zhe first two, as you are muggle-born, but zhese other uneducated dunder-'eads be'ind me," he said, gesturing to the family members who were gathered in the room, "zhink zhat it is much too unethical to be cutting someone up, no matter what zhe problem is. So, after I wandered around for a few years, I decided to go to a beauty school, where I learned how to apply make-up, and give massages and pedicures, and even do hairstyles. As you can see, I am able to keep up to date with the most trendy styles of the day, and I am constantly wooing all of the ladies," he announced, sweeping back his personal rendition of the Elvis hairstyle.

Hermione doubted, however, that he really was "wooing" all of the ladies, because his hairstyle was more than fifty years old, and it was not the inky-black that Elvis' was. He had also switched accents again, currently talking in a botched rendition of American speech. Finally, after a few more words, he was speaking in Irish once more.

"But, alas, I could not follow such a glamorous dream forever. I am currently in trading, with things I should probably not talk about in front of such young company," he finished, gesturing to the teenage family members who were all clustered at his feet, playing gobstones.

Meanwhile, Hermione and Harry were able to effectually cover up their lie, even though Harry was still cross with Hermione for her sporadic rendezvous' with Draco. Hermione presumed that he thought it as cheating. They held hands in the presence of the rest of the family, stole kisses on the cheeks and even on the mouths, every now and then; Harry usually instigated these. They also slept in the same room, the room that Sinead had showed Hermione upon her first visit to the old house. But Hermione knew that Harry would never try anything funny unless Hermione wanted him to. Harry knew that Hermione didn't want him to.

Hermione caught furtive glances being cast at her by Jessa whenever she and Harry were in close proximity to each other. She didn't let this be known to Harry, however, and she had a feeling that no one else noticed those odd looks. Hermione couldn't help but feel a bit protective of Harry in these situations. Sometimes, she felt surges of jealously rise inside of her. She felt defensive of Harry, and did not want anyone except herself to be subject to his love. Although she did not love him in the slightest way past incredible friendship, she couldn't help feeling this way. She blamed it on her pregnancy.

But when these occurrences were made, Hermione couldn't help but pick out all of the reasons why Jessa wasn't good enough for Harry.

And then she would ask herself why she thought that she was good enough for him.

Sinead's baby was to be due at the end of June, but it was late, and came July fifth. It was a boy, as was predicted, and Ron named it Keegan. He was a fat little thing, with a mop of dark red hair, and dark brown eyes that peered around curiously whenever a healer came into the room at St. Mungo's, or whenever someone else came to call. Sinead was round and happy, with rosy cheeks and glittering eyes, and always was something else when someone came to visit.

Keegan was indeed adorable, as all of the children (whose numbers reached an incredible fifty and Hermione was still counting) insisted on informing everyone at the house when Sinead and the baby had returned from St. Mungo's. They loved to touch and poke and hold and tickle. Hermione was surprised that one of Keegan's brown eyes hadn't fallen out yet, what with the amount of prodding the children did.

Soon, however, the last days of the break came, and Hermione, Harry, and Jessa were expected back at the school. Hermione was nervous about teaching all of her classes, but she was even more nervous about her peaking pregnancy. She was due early in October, and the days until then were promising to fly by very quickly.

Hermione had more to think about, however, than just her classes and pregnancy. She hadn't forgotten at all the warning that Narcissa had given her, and Narcissa's shaded face and dark hair tended to haunt her dreams at night. She constantly watched herself, and those around her, for any signs of danger, but she found none. She didn't fully understand what it was that Narcissa had warned her about, but she couldn't get it from her mind.

The night of the Welcoming Feast was star-shot and bright, with a huge silver moon hanging lower than it ever had before. Hermione sat up at the top table with Jessa and Harry. This was the only meal that Draco was required to attend throughout the entire year, but he was on the other side, and Hermione hadn't seen him yet. The students had already filed in, been sorted, and Dumbledore had already given his magnificent start-of-term speech. Now, all everyone was doing was tucking into their plates and stuffing their mouths.

"So Jessa," Harry was saying as he sliced up his chicken. "What are you starting the term with this year?"

Jessa talked for forever it seemed like, and Hermione excused herself very early from the table (the second course hadn't even started yet), claiming an uneasy stomach. Harry offered to walk her back to their room, but she declined the offer.

Outside the hall was cold and dark and Hermione swayed dangerously on her feet. She held out a hand for support from a wall, but before she could even steady herself strong warm hands grasped her waist, holding her up. She gasped loudly, and turned around to meet Draco's molten silver eyes staring back at her in the darkness.

"How was your summer?" he asked, releasing her after he was sure she could stand properly.

"It was fine," she replied breathlessly, wiping hair out of her eyes. "How was yours?"

"Lonely," he answered truthfully. "You met my wife and kids before, right?" Apparently, it didn't bother him talking about Auset in front of Hermione.

"Yeah, I did," Hermione replied uncomfortably. "Why aren't you in the feast?"

"I was, but then I saw you leave so I thought I'd join you," Draco said. "Would you like to go for a walk?" he added, gesturing towards the doors that led outside.

Hermione thought for a moment, but then consented, wrapping her jumper more tightly around herself as they headed out into the gusty night. It was unusually cold for the beginning of September.

They walked in silence for a while, heading down towards the lake. Hermione could hear singing emitted from the lake, and had a faint idea that it was the mermaids that resided in the water. They stopped at a large rock that was a few feet from the lapping water, and merely stared over the surface of the lake. The moon was painted on the smooth surface of the water, clear and bright, and before Hermione could do anything else, Draco decided that it was fit to tell her all about why he and Auset got married.

"Well, you know how my mother used to like to throw parties and the like for wealthy dignitaries and ministry members? Actually, I think she picked that up from my father," Draco said wistfully. "Well, one evening, in the winter, I decided that I was going to attend one, instead of moping around upstairs"

The Malfoy's grand banqueting hall was alive and fresh with iced garlands lacing the wedding cake of a ceiling, and braiding the banisters that led down to the dance floor. Gigantic Christmas trees grew from each corner of the room, gilded in gold icicles and red and green holly and mistletoe hung from every archway. The balcony was frosty, covered in opaline, pristine snow that had never been touched, and a beautiful string quartet was settled in one corner of the room nicely. Refreshment tables lined one wall, covered in perfect pastries, exquisite éclairs, and wafting cider that had been prepared by the finest French cooks in wizarding Europe.

About fifty or so couples graced the dance floor, partaking in a flitting waltz, the women being spun around and the men holding them up. Ball gowns done in gold and every color of crimson one might imagine brushed the floor lightly, along with sparkling glass slippers that clicked in time with the sophisticated music.

"Draco, dear?" he heard, and he turned on the last step of the grand staircase to face his mother.

"Yes, mum?"

"I'm so glad you decided to attend this one," Narcissa said, holding out a jeweled hand for him to take.

"May I have this first dance, mother?"

"Of course, love."

And so they danced, and they talked about everything and nothing in particular. The waltz that they were dancing to was a long one.

"I went to St. Mungo's earlier, to see your father," Narcissa said. "I wanted you to come with me, but I think you were out riding."

"How is he?" Draco inquired as he spun her around gently.

"Oh, you know, still thinks he's as sane as ever," she replied lightly, brushing off the matter as though they were discussing it over cocktails.

Draco sighed heavily. No doubt Lucius was at this moment plotting on how to be let out of St. Mungo's. He'd been in there for a little over three years, and Draco knew that he had to be getting restless.

"I told the Healers to increase the amount of security outside of his cell," Narcissa said, reading Draco's mind. "They said that he was never a problem, always terribly polite."

'No doubt trying to get on their good side,' Draco thought bitterly to himself.

"They all adore him," Narcissa commented, reading Draco's mind again. "Frankly, I don't know why. He's such a little brat, throwing tantrums and the like all the time." She shook her head mildly.

Draco snorted and the waltz ended.

"Come, Draco, there's someone I would like you to meet," Narcissa said, leading him off the dance floor and over to one of the small tables draped in glittering beige lace coverlets. Each little table could sit about four or five people, respectively, and each table had a candelabrum in the center, all eight candles lit.

At this table sat three people whom Draco had never seen before. "They're Egyptian dignitaries, very powerful at the Ministry there," Narcissa whispered into his ear, almost inaudibly, before they reached the table. Two of them were older, with wrinkled tan skin and shiny black hair. The other one, sitting directly across from Draco, appeared to have just gotten out of school she looked so young.

She smiled broadly, and reached a large, brown hand across the table to shake Draco's. "My name is Auset Naeem," she said smoothly, her voice swimming in rich, deep, accented tones.

"Draco Malfoy," Draco replied.

The woman, no doubt, was very beautiful. Half of her shiny black hair was piled on her head in little elaborate twists that looked like tiny roses. Embedded in her hair were golden-jeweled hairpins that reflected the chandelier light overhead. The bottom half of her hair fell down past her waist, shimmering and smooth, straight as a pin. Her eyes were amazing; Draco had to admit he had never seen eyes like hers before. They were ivy green, with a dark charcoal gray ring surrounding the iris. She stared up at him through dark, long, curled eyelashes, and her eyebrows were perfectly groomed, right down to the end hairs. Her skin was illuminant, contrasting splendidly with the dark brown gown that she wore, which over-accentuated her cleavage.

"What an unusual name," she commented in the smooth, icy voice that vibrated out of her slender throat. Around her neck was clasped an exquisite necklace. A dragonfly, beset in gold, amber, and emerald jewels, slid on a fine golden chain. "Auset Malfoy," she purred, rolling the name over her tongue. "Sounds perfect, doesn't it?"

"Would you like to dance?" Draco asked, trying to be polite.

"I would be simply delighted," she replied, allowing Draco to escort her to the floor.

"You see, Hermione," Draco suddenly said, breaking the flashback. "I was weak, so incredibly weak. I don't think I would've been able to survive if it hadn't been for my mother. I just didn't do anything anymore. I sat around all day†sometimes I rode the horses, but I didn't have a job. I had just turned twenty when I had met Auset, and you†you were still fresh in my mind†you will always be fresh in my mind. What was I supposed to do?"

He paused here, staring out over the lake. The anxious silence was marred by a loud splashing sound, which indicated the Giant squid swimming closely to the surface. Hermione could see its glinting tentacles reflected in the clear moonlight.

"She got pregnant," Draco continued bluntly. "She wasn't what you were Hermione; she didn't even come close to comparing to you. I didn't love her. And yet, I felt determined to not make the same mistake with her that I had made with you. It was like I was trying to amend what I had done with you. I know it didn't work, because you never came back to me. You never knew what it was that I did." He looked at her with pleading eyes, but Hermione merely stared straight ahead, determined not to even give him a glance.

She couldn't start crying.

"So, I proposed, and we got married. It was quite a simple affair. No flowers or gorgeous gowns or elaborate reception dinners. We eloped at the Ministry. I didn't want to relive what I had done with you, because it wasn't the same marrying her. And she didn't want the shame of a huge wedding, when she was pregnant. So that was that, and then Lotus was born. And then a few years later Alarica was born, and then Zenden and then Nabiyre. They were all the most beautiful children, and I did love them, but it wasn't the same with Auset. I thought having children was supposed to be a glorious and wondrous thing. It wasn't what I had hoped for. It wasn't what I thought it would be with you."

But Hermione couldn't help herself anymore. What was she supposed to do, what with him telling her all of these things? What he was saying brought back dreadful memories of screaming matches and laughing contests. They had been such a happy pair, always happy. And now they weren't. Now they could never be together again. And Hermione would have to raise these children, the children that were curled up together in her belly, all on her own.

"But, enough talk of what was," Draco said, turning to her.

He took her hand in his, and brushed away the strands of hair that had melded to her cheeks in the tear tracks. He swept away all of her tears with the touch of his lips, and then caught her mouth in a feverish kiss.

This time, they weren't drunk, and they weren't passionately angry at one another. They were just there at the foot of the water, kissing each other calmly and sweetly, and basking in the warm air that was coming off the lake. Hermione had no regrets racing through her head at this contact, and she instigated more of it, backing into the rock and sliding down it onto the cold brown earth, letting Draco's entire form press against her gently.

And that was it†the lake water was still warm enough for them to lay in. And they did lay in it, Draco on top of Hermione, with their clothes shed back on shore. Hermione's hair floated serenely in the soothing motion of the tiny waves that crashed on the sand, and the dark locks clung to her chest and rounded stomach. They embraced Draco's lithe form, clinging to his chiseled chest and wrapping themselves around his arms.

What they shared that night was indescribable†it was so much better than that night at the inn and it was so much more memorable. All Hermione could think of was staying in his arms forever. She would be content then, wouldn't she?

She hadn't been this happy since her wedding day, which had been so long ago, in such a far away place. Hermione didn't dwell on it, however. How could she, when Draco was doing things to her that rendered her virtually thoughtless?

He somehow managed to kiss every square inch of her body, and then everywhere in between; he prodded and poked, sucked and licked every sensitive place on her that he could remember and then he found some more places.

At the end of it all, which came after much reluctance from both parties, they merely laid there in the water, which splashed angrily at their sides. Hermione's fingers were tangled in the seaweed, and Draco's fingers were tangled in her hair, and they just laid there, falling asleep inside of each other, lulled to sleep by the harmonious voices the mermaids cast across the water.

And that next morning, around three or so, when they trudged back up to the castle together, they noticed that in the midst of their love making, miraculously thousands of red roses had sprung up all over the bank of the lake, and had spread onto the lawn. They rippled gently under the fading light of the moon, blanketing the ground in crimson silkiness.

Even though it was September.

A/N: Ending on that note†finally Hermione and Draco get to both indulge in themselves, hmmm? I know you all have been waiting for that moment for a while.

Sorry this took so long to come out†I wrote it first, but then Serenity and I decided it needed to be rewritten, because it wasn't at all up to my usual standards. It was kind of scrappily written. But hopefully, this chapter turned out better than the other one I had planned on putting up†its about 50 longer than the original for one thing, and the format of the entire chapter isn't so abruptly done. If it was really badly done, please tell me in a review, okay?

I hope you liked Sinead's family†I really wanted to incorporate them into this chapter, because they have to be my favorite characters in the entire story. The huge family who argues all the time was a mapped out after my family. Believe me, you really don't want to know

Thanks to all those who reviewed†keep them coming, and you people who don't review but reap the benefits of this story†you should review too!

Thanks to Lady of Ankoku for her betaing, as usual†if she hadn't suggested rewriting the chapter, than I probably wouldn't have rewritten it.

Oh, and for anyone who is wondering, italics was a flashback from Draco†the first one in the story. I didn't want him to have to tell the whole story†I thought it would be better if I did it in flashback form†then you guys would get the whole picture better.