"What was I thinking?" Hermione grumbled, falling onto her bed, back at Harry and Ginny's. She covered her face with her hands and groaned. "Of all the people, in all of bloody England, I had to go jump in bed with Draco Malfoy."
Hermione's mind and her body were at war with each other. Her mind was screaming at her for being so impetuous. Alcohol and sex were, of course, going to solve nothing. But it had been so long since she'd had both…. And Malfoy wasn't exactly unattractive. Quite the opposite actually. His white blonde hair had been cut short and it helped to soften his features, compared to the slicked back, pompous look he'd had in school. Then, when she got his clothes off, Merlin help her! Every inch of him was defined muscled, and she just couldn't resist running her hands over every nook and cranny.
Yes, the physical attraction was definitely there. But, if she was really honest with herself, what had lowered her defenses was how easy he was to talk to. Never once did it feel like he was putting up a front, and he was bluntly honest with her. She was sure that he didn't show his dark mark scar to everyone he met. She had finally been able to appreciate how much he had changed in the last five years.
And who was she kidding, the sex was good! Amazing, even! Not that she had much to compare it to. She had just bookended a multi-year drought. She had needed the sex; the touch, the rush, the relief it brought. The fact that sex with Draco Malfoy came with no attachments was the perfect package.
"Ooh, perfection in the package indeed," Hermione murmured, pulling herself from the bed, with a grin. She stripped off her rumpled dress and headed for the bathroom. Letting the water rise barely above the temperature of ice, she stepped in and cooled down her raging libido that had awaken at the thought of Draco's package. Afterwards, she left her wet towel on the floor, and started back to her room.
She barely made it two steps into the hall before seeing Draco, dressed in his Ministry robes, standing in her doorway.
"Malfoy! What the fuck?" she shrieked, turning back to the bathroom. The door promptly slammed in her face. Letting out another frustrated cry, she turned to see Draco twirling his wand. "What are you playing at? Can I at least get my towel?"
"No," he answered, simply. "You left me," he accused, pointing his wand towards her.
"And now you're going to curse me?" Draco lowered his wand quickly, but didn't break his gaze on her. "I thought of all people, you would know what a one night stand entails," Hermione sighed, walking towards him. He shifted uncomfortably as she got near. "Can I at least get some clothes?" Draco moved aside and let her pass.
"I've had plenty of one night stands, Granger. I know exactly how they work. It's just never…" he trailed off, as Hermione slipped on a clean bra and knickers. "Never mind," he muttered, turning to leave.
"You're the one that said no feelings," she called, walking after him.
Draco laughed, and Hermione felt a slight pain at the mocking tone. "It's not that. Forget it."
It finally dawned on Hermione what was irritating him. He wasn't used to being the one left.
"I guess it was a first for both of us," she said, softly.
He stopped and stared at her for a second. She could see his steely eyes trying to work out the meaning behind her statement, but he left the question unspoken. She watched as his blonde hair disappeared down the steps.
That day she sat and mapped out possibilities for Ginny's hen night. She knew that she would have to venture into London and scope out restaurants and shows. Those places didn't really matter, location wise. Hermione just wanted to try and keep the dance club within walking distance to the Leaky Cauldron, so everyone could safely floo home. She wasn't too keen on shoving a bunch of drunk witches into a muggle taxi cab, to take them to what the drivers would see as an abandoned, run down building. The idea of the Knight Bus briefly crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. The Knight Bus on a strong, empty stomach was risky. She didn't even want to imagine what it would be like paired with no sense of balance and a stomach full of alcohol.
That Tuesday was a free day for Ginny, so she accompanied Hermione into London. They were intent on at least securing tickets to a show, and luckily they didn't have to look far. The Drury Lane Theater was running a production of My Fair Lady.
"Oh, I remember mum and dad taking me to see this when I was ten," Hermione said, looking at the show's poster. A pang of sadness gnawed at her, remembering the afternoon out with her parents. "It's a fun show and I think the other girls will like it," she continued, glancing over at Ginny.
"All right, let's get the tickets, and then find some lunch. I'm starving," Ginny moaned.
"That's because all you had was toast for breakfast," Hermione scolded, queuing up in the ticket line.
"You would too if you spent your entire morning retching."
Hermione grimaced and rubbed her friend's back. "I know the feeling," she muttered.
"Morning sickness is a bitch," Ginny grumbled.
With tickets in hand, the two girls found a small diner, a few blocks away, with an available booth. After placing their orders, Hermione smiled at Ginny and sympathized, "The first month or so is the worst. So I've heard," she quickly added.
"Yeah, I remember when Fleur and Ang were pregnant, they said their first trimesters were the harshest. I never really understood why, always thinking the last would be the worst, with being as big as a house," Ginny explained, holding her hands out in front of her stomach in demonstration. "But no, I think throwing up every damn morning is pretty bad.
Though, Harry actually stopped at a muggle bookstore and got me a book called What To Expect When You're Expecting. Reading ahead, the rest of the process doesn't seem too appealing either."
"You're a tough cookie. You'll get through it," Hermione reassured, giving Ginny's hand a squeeze. "Are you guys going to find out if it's a girl or a boy?"
"I don't really care, but I have a feeling Harry will want to know as soon as possible. You know how he has to have all the details, about everything"
"He just likes to prepare for every contingency. Can't really fault him for it. Can I make my prediction now?"
"Go for it Sybil."
Hermione scrunched her nose at the comparison to their former Divination teacher, making Ginny giggle. She leaned over the table and placed her hands on Ginny's belly, closing her eyes for affect.
"In your future….I see….a bouncing baby….boy!" Hermione declared. "And he'll look exactly like his father."
Ginny laughed and said, "I can live with that."
"Girl or boy, your child will be gorgeous." Hermione sat back down and grinned at her friend. "I can't believe you guys are going to be parents! I wish I could be here to see that."
"Not like you couldn't," Ginny replied, shifting her gaze upwards as she sipped her water. "I'm positive Kingsley would welcome you back in a heartbeat."
"Let's not go there," Hermione warned. "The reason I left England is still in England. And he's none too happy with me still. Not that I'm pleased with him either, after Sunday."
"My brother's a prat. You knew this when you married him, and it's why you divorced him. I'm sure what you're feeling right now is just the shock of seeing each other for the first time in two years."
"I like New York, though. I've built up a life and career over there," Hermione insisted. "I have a new position waiting for me when I get back, and I'll actually get to move out of that closet I call a flat."
"I know, it's just that…." Ginny pursed her lips and her eyes glistened with tears. "I miss you so much, Min. It hasn't been the same here, with you gone. And now…. now everything is going to change again!" Ginny's tears were flowing freely now and she blew her nose into her napkin.
"Oh, don't cry please!" Hermione rushed around to sit beside Ginny and hugged her tight. "I'm sorry, I know how hard it must be."
"No, I'm sorry," Ginny sniffled. "So many damn hormones and I can't control any of my emotions. You know, I broke down last night, before bed, because Harry had gotten cinnamon toothpaste instead of peppermint. I never saw him so confused and helpless!"
"You're fine, don't apologize for anything," Hermione soothed, stroking Ginny's hair. "You know I will be back over here as soon as this kid makes his or her grand entrance."
"I know," Ginny sniffed, drying her eyes. "And you'll be the most awesome Godmother ever. I just really, really miss you."
"I miss you guys too," she whispered, tears now sliding down her own cheeks. "I promise I'll start coming back here more often and not make you guys do all the traveling."
Once they composed themselves, Hermione moved back to her seat just as their food arrived.
Hermione frowned at her sandwich. She had insisted 'no mayonnaise', yet mayo dripped off the sides. "Every time," she mumbled, attempting to scrape it off on the side of her plate.
"So, I've been meaning to ask you," Ginny started, drowning her chips in vinegar. "Where'd you get that kinky little mark on your neck?" Hermione's hand flew to the spot just below her ear and Ginny smirked. "Don't think we didn't notice you never returned home Sunday night."
"I had a few drinks at the bar, and then had a little fun…" Hermione answered, concentrating hard on her sandwich.
Ginny shook her head and grinned. "Mmm hmm…. So, will you be calling on this gentlemen again?"
"Very doubtful. Let's just leave it at that it had been a while and when the opportunity presented itself, I couldn't pass it up."
"Okay, if that's all you're gonna offer up, I'll have to do some sleuthing of my own."
"Nothing to sleuth sweetheart," Hermione insisted, nicking Ginny's discarded pickle. "Just a fun little fling."
"Yeah, well I'd like to know who flung you," Ginny said, waggling her eyebrows.
After lunch, they walked up and down Catherine street, debating on which restaurant would be best for the hen night. After two loops, they finally settled on an upscale French restaurant that appeared to be quite popular. They were relieved to be able to snag an early reservation for the following week.
"And if we have any questions about the menu, we've got Fleur to save us," Ginny declared, as they set off again, this time in search of a safe apparition point.
By Thursday, Hermione had everything planned, reserved, and good to go. The muggle club she found was about a four block walk away from the Leaky Cauldron. Neville had assured her that he'd be awake, closing up shop, and that they would be more than welcome to floo home from there. She was hoping four blocks wasn't too much of a gamble for their large group. Ginny would most likely be the only sober one of the bunch, though she'd have to put on a drunken front. Needless to say it was going to be quite the evening.
Hermione relaxed on the couch with a book, happy to have the hen night planning under her belt. Three chapters into her millionth reading of Jane Eyre, Hermione startled at the sound of the floo. Harry's head appeared in the green flames, grinning at her.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he apologized.
"It's okay. What's up?" Hermione asked, placing her bookmark in the novel and sitting up.
"Ginny just floo called me and said that she is inviting the whole wedding party to the house, for dinner…..tonight," Harry grimaced. "Apparently she has 'something exciting in store' for us."
"The last time she said that, she told you she was pregnant. Did she find out it's twins now?" Hermione joked.
Even through the emerald flames, Hermione could see Harry's face pale. "That's not funny."
"I'm sorry, but it was worth it for the look on your face," Hermione snickered. "So, let me guess, you have almost twenty people coming over, but no food?"
"Do you mind?"
"Even I'm not a miracle worker, Harry Potter," Hermione scolded. She sighed, and continued, "But I could probably put together a few lasagnas by this evening."
"You're the best Min! People should start rolling in around five-thirty. I'm stuck here until six."
"I won't have enough time to make my own sauce. You'll have to get by on store bought," Hermione warned.
"We all have to make sacrifices I guess," Harry laughed. "But, no, that sounds brilliant. Thank you so much!"
"You're welcome," Hermione smiled. "Get back to work. I have to go shopping."
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Draco was ready for this week to be over already. He started it off irritated, and the feeling had lingered. His schedule had been filled with endless meetings and paperwork. And to top it off he had gotten called in to advise on an Auror case. At least they just wanted him to help review the details and give his opinions on it. People always seemed surprised when he said he had no desire to be in the field with the Aurors, squelching out dark magic, but it was the truth. He much preferred being alone, in the lab, tinkering with potions.
He wasn't able to focus his mind on his files or monotone co-workers droning on about pointless topics. He kept coming back to Hermione's comment about Sunday night being a first for both of them. What could she have meant? It certainly wasn't his first time sleeping with someone. Surely she knew that. And while he couldn't be certain, he was quite sure it hadn't been her first either, seeing as how she had been married for almost three years. It also wasn't like they had done anything spectacularly kinky that wouldn't normally happen during sex.
So what had she meant? How would she know what any of his firsts were anyway. She barely knew anything about him! And why the fuck was this irritating him so much?! Just another example of how Hermione Granger could get under his skin.
Draco looked at the clock. It was just before five o'clock. Harry wouldn't be home for their sudden wedding party dinner until six. Draco had planned on waiting for him, but thought he might drop in early on Hermione, and find out what exactly she had meant with her statement. Then maybe his mind might be able to rest easy. He scribbled a quick note on his Ministry parchment, and sent it flying to Harry's office, letting him know not to wait.
He apparated to just outside of Harry and Ginny's garden gate and let himself into the house. Music was blasting from the record player and he could hear Hermione singing in the kitchen, while the smells of Italian spices and baking cheese filled the air.
Draco rounded the corner and found Hermione at the kitchen island, back turned and unaware that she was no longer alone. She was chopping up lettuce as she danced and sang.
"So hold me tight, tonight," she sang, swishing her hips. "It's you, you, you, you ooo ooo." Swish, swish went the hips again. She was in a snug, blue t-shirt, that fell to just the top of faded jean shorts. Draco was mesmerized, his whole reason for arriving early going out the window. "Hold me tight." Swish. "Let me go on loving you." Swish, swish. "Making love to only you." Swish.
Dammit. How could she be so damn irritating, yet stunningly sexy? It annoyed him to no end. He glared at her backside as she continued her tantalizing swishing and singing.
"Are you going to stare at my arse all night, or do you plan on making yourself useful?" Hermione suddenly asked, without looking back.
"Eyes in the back of your head now, Granger?" Draco sneered, walking over to the island.
"Saw your reflection in the fridge," Hermione explained, handing him a tomato. "Is it within your skill set to dice this up for a salad?"
"I think I can manage," he replied, pulling a knife from the drawer. He started slicing as Hermione peeled carrots. "So you shake your arse like that for everyone then?"
"I'm glad you enjoyed the show, but I wasn't 'shaking my arse' for anyone. I was enjoying the song. You're the one that was leering."
"Hard not to," Draco mumbled, staring at his tomato. He chanced a quick glance and saw a little smirk play across her lips. Merlin, she was infuriating! He knew the Hermione Granger from school would be beet red by now. This Hermione Granger seemed unfazed by anything he threw at her. He could tell he was able to irritate her just as much, but to her credit she could give and good as she got. In more ways than one….
"Fuck!" Draco shouted. Lost in thought, he forgot to pay attention to what he was slicing, and the knife had just gone across his left thumb. Bright red blood dripped onto the butcher block.
"Jesus Malfoy!" Hermione cried. She grabbed a tea towel and wrapped it around the cut, dragging him to the table. "Hold that on there," she instructed. She performed a quick cleaning spell on the island, siphoning up the blood, before opening up the medicine cabinet, above the cooker. "Can't even trust you to cut up vegetables…."
"Fruit."
"What?" she asked, exasperated, as she brought a small, brown bottle of Dittany to him.
"Tomatoes are fruit. I was cutting up fruit."
Hermione scowled. "You want your finger fixed or not?"
Draco winced as she unwrapped the towel from his thumb. It immediately started bleeding again. Quickly, Hermione dropped the Dittany along the clean cut and the skin melded back together, leaving a thin white line.
"Thank you," Draco said, standing up and heading to the sink, to wash up.
"No problem," Hermione replied, as she replaced the Dittany bottle. "I just have to remember, in the future, to arm you with nothing sharper than a bottle brush."
It was Draco's turn to scowl as he looked around the kitchen. "How are we planning on fitting everyone in here? There's what, fourteen of us? Plus two little ones?"
"We'll pull a Weasley and enlarge the picnic tables out back," Hermione explained, finishing up the salad. "Do you think you could do that, without losing a limb?"
"I don't appreciate the cheek, Granger," Draco sneered.
"You didn't seem to mind it the other night," she countered, opening up the oven.
Without a reply, Draco stalked to the back yard. He summoned Harry's two picnic tables together, on the large grassy area beside the pool. A quick wand flick, and they expanded to allow the group to sit together comfortably. Another flick, and the tops were cloaked in blue linen cloths. He returned to the kitchen, to cries of "Uncle Harry! Uncle Harry!"
Bill and George's children ran in, their eyes big and searching. When they saw that Harry wasn't there, their faces fell.
"He'll be home soon," Hermione reassured. "I'm so glad you're here though! I was just thinking about how I could use two big helpers to set the tables. Do you know where I might find some?"
"We can do it! Can we help?" Victoire and Freddy yelled. Hermione handed Victoire a basket of folded napkins and Freddy a basket of forks and butter knives.
"Now, put the napkin down first, and then place the fork and knife on top," Hermione explained. The two dashed into the back garden.
George pulled a stack of plates from the cupboard and said, "I'll take these and go oversee operations."
Draco sat down at the kitchen table and watched as Hermione greeted guests and pulled pan after pan of lasagna from the over. Along with the lasagna, she had prepared a salad, homemade garlic bread, and tiramisu. She floated a tray of red wine, pumpkin juice, and ice water to the tables and mixed up a quick vinaigrette for the salad.
"How do you do all this?" Draco asked. He couldn't help but be amazed by the meal. Growing up, he was always served delicious meals, but they were cooked by house elves. He couldn't remember his mother ever stepping foot in the kitchen to even get herself a drink, let alone cook something.
"I like to cook," Hermione said, passing Angelina a tray of goblets. "It's a good escape."
"Escape from what?"
"My mind. It let's me have tunnel vision and not focus on the zillion other things that tend to stress me out. Speaking of which…" Hermione trailed off, turning to the fridge. Draco looked over and saw Ron walk in.
"Evening Weasley," Draco greeted, politely.
Ron ignored both of them and walked straight through to the back yard.
"Merlin Min!" Harry cried, coming into the kitchen, with Ginny on his heels. "All you had to make was lasagna! We didn't need a three course meal."
"You should know by now, if I'm going to feed you, I'm going to do it properly," Hermione insisted.
"Has my mother possessed you?" Ginny asked, placing her hand on Hermione's forehead.
"Go sit down," Hermione laughed, motioning them to the back door.
Harry and Ginny exited to the garden and were instantly assaulted by Victoire and Freddy, asking to go swimming.
"Why do they call you Min?" Draco asked, suddenly curious. Hermione looked up at him in surprise, dropping the pepper mill. Draco quickly reached out and caught it before it hit the floor.
"Victoire couldn't say Hermione, when she was learning to talk. But, she could already say Gin, so I became Min. And it's just a name that's kinda stuck in the family. Do you mind?" she said, handing Draco the salt shaker. "Thanks, I just need to get the butter."
Draco followed her out to the tables, and they took the last two seats at the end, across from each other. Baskets of garlic bread were being passed around and Harry was doling out generous portions of lasagna.
"Thank you so much for all this Hermione," Ginny gushed. "It looks delicious."
Hermione blushed and nodded, saying, "It was really no problem. I think we're anxious to hear what you have planned for all of us though."
Ginny grinned and clapped her hands together, but before she could speak, Victoire interrupted.
"Auntie Min, what is this?" the little girl asked, shooting a disgusted look at her plate.
Hermione laughed and leaned towards Victoire. "It's called lasagna. I promise, it's yummy." The tiny blonde continued to warily stare at the pasta. "Tell you what. Give it a try. If you don't like it, I'll make you one of my famous toasted cheese sandwiches."
"It's good Vicky!" Freddy yelled, spraying bits of food onto his father's shoulder.
"I swear, you're exactly like your father," Angela muttered, brushing a napkin over George's shoulder.
"That's not a bad thing, mate," George assured, kissing the top of his son's head.
"So, what have we all been summoned for?" Bill asked.
Ginny started grinning again and announced, "I signed us all up for dance lessons! They start next week."
There was excited murmurings from the group, all female voices. Just about every man at the table horrifyingly glanced at Harry. Harry himself was giving Ginny a puzzled look.
"Darling, I love you, but why dance lessons?" Harry asked.
"So we don't all look like a bunch of uncoordinated gazelles on the dance floor," Ginny huffed, glaring at Harry.
"Pretty sure McGonagall gave us all the dance lessons we'll ever need," George asserted, shoveling lasagna into his mouth.
"That was almost a decade ago!" Ginny cried, swatting George's arm. "I thought it would be a fun way to bond with each other, as we get closer to the big day, and give us the benefit of maybe not having two left feet when we have to dance in front of a hundred and fifty people."
"I don't dance," Draco stated, sipping his wine.
"I dance!" Freddy squealed. In case no one believed him, the boy started wiggling his bottom on the bench and pumping his fists in the air. Hermione giggled and clapped for him, causing an ear to ear grin to spread across Freddy's face.
Ginny sighed. "Look, it's not mandatory. I'm not going to force anyone to go-"
"Even me?" Harry interrupted.
"You do remember you have to live with me, right?" Ginny retorted, scowling at Harry. "I booked four lessons, and they're only a half hour long, on Tuesday and Thursday nights. I'll give everyone the address. I think it will be a lot of fun."
"We will be there, Ginny," Fleur insisted, patting Bill's hand.
Draco looked over at Hermione and found her staring at him with a smirk.
"What's that look for, Granger?"
"I remember you dancing at the Yule Ball, with Pansy. You weren't that bad, if I my memory is correct."
"I don't dance," Draco repeated, taking a bite of his dinner. Hermione smirked again and Draco scowled. "I take it you'll be attending these lessons?"
"It wouldn't be like me to skip a class, now would it?" Hermione smiled, reaching for her wine goblet.
"Still such a swot."
"And here I was actually starting to think we'd matured beyond the name calling, Malfoy," Hermione sighed, shaking her head.
They ate the rest of the meal in silence, letting everyone else carry on conversations and nodding their heads politely if the discussion reached them. As his irritation grew, Draco realized that he had never asked Hermione about her statement from the other morning. When she retreated to the house, to fetch the dessert, Draco followed and ambushed her.
"What did you mean Monday morning?"
Hermione stared at him and asked, "Could you be more specific."
"I believe your exact words were 'it was a first for both of us'. What did you mean?" Draco asked again, more forcefully.
"Is that why you've been such a prick all evening?" Hermione laughed, pulling the tiramisu from the fridge. "Jesus, you could have just asked me days ago, instead of acting like a scorned child."
Draco wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. She was right of course, he had been childish. He knew he was being childish. But in his, albeit weak, defense, he didn't really know how else to act. Passive aggressive was his mode of survival. Confronting feelings, whatever they might be, felt weak. Plus, it was the best way to get rid of witches that became too clingy, and wanted a second date.
"It was a first for me because I had never slept with someone before purely for the sex," Hermione went on to explain. "When you confronted me the next morning, all pissed off, I got the feeling that you don't invite women into your bed-"
"I've been with plenty of women, Granger."
"Let me finish, you prat," she snapped. "I assume you're used to being the one that does the leaving come sunrise, and having it done to you threw you off."
Draco gaped at her. Again, she was right. Damn, he hated how she was always right! He waited for that all-knowing smirk to grace her face, but was surprised when she just shrugged and handed him a plate of tiramisu.
"Why do you keep staring at me, like I'm some kind of alien creature?"
"Because somehow you are able to intrigue, seduce, and annoy the fuck out of me, all within the same damn minute," Draco lamented.
"Sounds like the perfect storm," Hermione quipped, heading back outside.
Perfect storm indeed…
After dessert, Hermione was accosted by shouts of, "Swim with us, Auntie Min! Come swimming!"
Hermione hesitated, eyeing up the pool. "Don't you think it'll be a bit chilly?"
"It's heated, don't worry," Draco informed.
"Thank you, Malfoy, for blowing my only excuse."
"Yeah, thanks Malfoy!" Freddy cried.
Hermione dissolved into a fit of laughter, to the point of tears. Draco scowled at her.
"Keep scowling like that, and you'll give yourself wrinkles," Hermione scolded, through her laughs. "Yes, I will come swimming with you. Let me go put on my suit. Who else is swimming?"
"Uncle Harry and Uncle Ron!" Victoire yelled, running for the pool.
"Walk!" Fleur called, running after her daughter.
"Brilliant," Hermione muttered.
"So just don't go swimming," Draco stated, watching Hermione gaze at the pool.
"You haven't met many children, have you?" Hermione asked, not looking back at him.
"I try to keep my distance."
"Well, they don't take too kindly to broken promises." Hermione sighed and trudged to the house.
Draco looked around at the hodgepodge of people Harry and Ginny had chosen for their wedding party. He still wasn't quite sure where he fit in with them all. Though, to be fair, he was never really sure where he fit in at most places. He always felt like he was just hovering on the outside of social circles. But that was better than what it used to be. His family was always at the center of the wizarding elite; his father had made sure of that. Since the end of the war, Draco had distanced himself from his father and practically everything the Malfoy name had stood for. Harry had played an integral part in that, and Draco would be forever grateful.
The back door slid open and Draco glanced up. Hermione was walking slowly towards the pool, wrapped up in a large towel.
"You do know you can't swim in a towel, right?" Harry called, dodging Freddy's splashing.
"Yes, I know that," Hermione started, biting her bottom lip. She nervously glanced around and hugged her towel tighter. "Lizzie was helping me pack last week and, well, when I had my back turned, she must have swapped my swim suits. What I found in my suitcase is NOT what I had originally packed."
"Is there something R rated under there?" Harry questioned, putting his hand over Freddy's eyes.
"No!" Hermione hissed.
"Well, let's see it then, Granger," Draco urged, sitting down in a lounge chair. She sneered at him, and he shot back his most innocent smile. "You can't break your promise to the children now, can you?"
""Dammit, Malfoy," she muttered, undoing her towel. Hermione slowly unwrapped herself and revealed a halter-top bikini, in various hues of shiny blue. She tossed her towel across a chair and earned a catcall from George. "Shut it, George!" she yelled, hugging herself.
Draco shifted in his chair, more than a little turned on by Hermione's wardrobe change. He couldn't deny that she had a spectacular body. Every part of her was perfect. She wasn't stick thin, like so many strived for these days. She had curves, and that bikini accentuated every one of them.
Realizing that he was staring, very intently, Draco stood and shifted his gaze to Harry, and a slightly slack jawed Ron.
"Potter, I'm going to bow out early. I will see you Monday, bright and early, as usual. Tell your better half that I will think about dance lessons, but I'm not promising anything."
"Wish I had that same luxury," Harry muttered, tossing a giggling Victoire to Ron. "Thanks for coming tonight mate. See ya next week."
"Catch ya later, Granger," Draco said, giving her a gentle nudge into the pool. He disapparated before she could catch her breath and scream at him.
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"Malfoy! You rotten little ferret!" Hermione broke the surface of the water, spluttering and fuming, glancing wildly for the blonde haired annoyance.
"He's gone," Harry laughed. "Here catch!"
Hermione looked back just in time to receive a flailing Victoire.
"I like your bathing suit, Auntie Min! It's very shiny," Victoire giggled, poking at the strap to Hermione's suit.
"Thank you. Yours is very pretty too," Hermione replied, tickling the pink ruffles on the little girl's suit. "It makes you look like a ballerina."
"See, told ya Freddy! I'm a bal-reeeeena!"
Hermione laughed and tossed the giggling girl back to Harry. She swam from one end of the pool and then back again, stretching out her muscles. It had been a while since she had been swimming. Her and Lizzie had taken a weekend trip to Long Beach Island, in New Jersey, last summer, but they mainly just laid out in the sun and drank Sangria the entire time. She had also gotten to wear her own, sensible, one piece bathing suit. Not something that looked like she was ready for spring break in Miami Beach.
"I want Min!" Victoire screamed, struggling against Ron's hold.
"It seems as though everyone does, lately," Ron muttered.
"I'm coming," Hermione reassured, glowering at Ron. She held her arms out to Victoire and pulled her close, as little arms wrapped around Hermione's neck. "So, how do you like having a little sister?"
Victoire scrunched up her nose and pursed her lips to the side. "She's cute, but she doesn't do anything."
Hermione laughed and bounced Victoire up and down. "Don't worry, she will. And you get to the big sister that teaches her everything. Won't that be fun?"
Victoire thought about it for a moment, before answering, "I'm going to teach her how to catch gnomes!"
Hermione laughed, again, and the little girl scrambled around so that she could cling onto Hermione's back. Even though it hurt at times, Hermione loved being around kids. A few of her co-workers had little ones that came into the office sometimes, and Hermione found that for some reason they were all naturally drawn to her. She had started to keep sweets in her desk, for their visited. Growing up as an only child, with little extended family, Hermione always looked forward to the day when she would be able to have a large family of her own. A pang of guilt ripped through her, as she glanced over at Ron. He had a huge smile on his face as he dunked Freddy.
The trio swam with the kids until the sun set and little sets of teeth started chattering. George and Angelina were the last to leave, with Freddy yawning, yet insisting he wasn't tired. Harry dried off and went to help Ginny in the kitchen, leaving just Hermione and Ron in the pool.
"You're really great with the kids," Ron commented, breaking the awkward silence.
"I've discovered, in the last year or so, that I have a knack for entertaining children," Hermione laughed. "They do seem to adore their Uncle Ron though. I can see you being the fun uncle."
Ron smiled and Hermione relaxed a little. Maybe they could be civil to each other. Perhaps even nice, boarding on a possible friendship.
"You ever think about us getting back together?" Ron asked, suddenly.
Never mind…..
Hermione frowned and shook her head. "No, I don't," she whispered.
"You're going to tell me that you honestly don't miss me? Miss us?"
"I miss certain things," Hermione admitted. Ron looked at her, silent, yet expectant. Hermione sighed and continued, "I miss the things we had at the beginning of the relationship- the passion we had for each other."
"Every honeymoon period has to end. You can't have that fiery, new relationship feel forever."
"No, I know that. But the passion should last. Look at Harry and Ginny. Look at your parents. The newness wears off, but the passion for one another doesn't die. You and I were great in the beginning. Somewhere along the line we lost the passion and let things fall apart."
"Maybe if you hadn't moved to another country, we could have worked things out," Ron accused.
Hermione looked at him, openmouthed and completely dumbstruck. "No! Nuh uh! You're not pulling that bullshit with me," she cried, glaring at him. "I tried to make things work. I wanted to go to counseling and make our marriage work. You're the pigheaded one that refused to acknowledge anything was wrong. You don't get to just blame me."
"So then it's all my fault?"
"Merlin's sake Ronald, stop trying to play the martyr," Hermione grumbled, swimming for the ladder. "There were two people in the marriage. I accept that I'm at just as much fault as you. At the end of the day, we both changed and grew apart. And as much as I might miss some aspects, it's not enough to subject both of us, again, to the hell that was our marriage."
Hermione climbed out of the pool and snatched her towel from the chair. Ron pulled himself onto the edge and glared at her.
"So you've moved on?"
"Yes," Hermione lied.
"To Malfoy?"
"What is your obsession with him?" Hermione gritted, roughly running the towel over her head.
"What's yours?" Ron spat.
"I have no obsession! I only-" Hermione caught herself before she could let slip her and Draco's rendezvous after the dinner party. "He's Best Man now and I'm Maid of Honor. I'm trying to be civil and get along with him for Harry and Ginny's sake. It might be nice if you stopped pitying yourself all the time and did the same for your best friend and sister."
"If being civil means making bedroom eyes at him over pasta, then I'll pass, thanks," he growled.
"Oh for fuck's sake!" she yelled, throwing her towel back on the chair. She put more force into her throw and the chair clattered over, onto the cement.
"Everything okay out there, or do I need to start throwing up shields?" Harry called, his head sticking out the back door.
Hermione and Ron quickly, guilty looks on their faces. Hermione gave a wave and called back, "Sorry, Harry. We're done."
Harry glanced between the two before nodding and backing into the kitchen. Hermione caught Ginny's voice saying "I told you not to leave them alone," as the door closed.
"Why do you hate me so much?" Ron asked, pulling Hermione back to their conversation. "I can accept that, as a couple, we didn't work. But was it really so bad that you felt you had to move to a whole other country and end a decade of friendship?"
Hermione studied her ex-husband's face and felt tears stinging her eyes. He genuinely was searching for answers and closure, and she knew despite everything they had put each other through, he deserved that much. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but found that she wasn't quite ready for that part of the story.
Ron sighed and shook his head before maneuvering past her and retreating to the house. Hermione let the tears she'd been holding back escape and wrapped her arms around herself, as she slowly looked around the back garden.
All the guests had gone and the picnic table sat empty, returned back to it's normal, all traces of dinner wiped away. The flames of the torches lining the pool flickered in the night breeze and caused goosebumps to prickle across Hermione's arms. She cast a glance towards the glow of the house lights and hastily decided that she didn't feel like facing the inevitable questions from her friends, so she grabbed her wand and apparated to the first place she could think of. She knocked lightly on the door, then immediately doubted her decision. This was the last place she should have come. She was about to walk away, when the door opened.
Draco's eyes narrowed in concern and Hermione waved her hands, saying, "I'm sorry I disturbed you. I don't know why I'm here."
"That's okay," Draco said, grabbing her hand before she could leave. "I know why."