A/N: Enjoy!


The moment their song had started, there wasn't a soul at the wedding whose eyes hadn't drifted in the direction. Young and old. Married and unmarried. It was a rare sight after all. A connection so deep, it swept through the wedding in warm, all-consuming waves.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Granger asked, glancing to Ron and Daphne from across the dance floor.

Sparing no more than a second to look, Draco could hardly separate the newlyweds from the rest of the crowd. Only as he glanced back at Granger, taking in the whisper of longing in her warm brown eyes, did he process the words she had said. "Undeniably."

At the sound of that, she redirected her attention, the faintest hint of self-consciousness colouring her cheeks as she realized he had scarcely looked away. "I think I've had too much to drink."

"I thought I was the lightweight."

She rolled her eyes, smiling. "Had I consumed more than a bite of cake at dinner earlier, I would be drinking you under the table right now."

"The food really was awful, wasn't it?"

"Genuinely the blandest I've ever had," she readily agreed, darting a quick look around after. "Er … maybe don't tell anyone I said that."

He couldn't help but laugh. "You care entirely too much, you know that?"

"Given our proximity, I'd argue I don't care enough."

"Fair enough," he agreed, taking her by the hand and giving her another quick spin as a few pairs of eyes continued to bounce looks in their direction.

Only as he caught her in his arms, her chest rising and falling in the confines of her neckline, did she blink up at him in that way again. Beyond the layers of curiosity and vigilance through which she viewed the world, there was a flicker of uncertainty. A soft glimpse into her subconscious.

Parting her lips as she drew in a quick breath, he lost all train of thought at just the sight.

"Do you want to know something?" she asked, quietly.

He lifted his gaze to her eyes, the music and the other wedding goers fading to the background as they continued swaying together despite the song change. "Don't leave me in suspense too long."

On the edge of a smile, she glanced down as she gathered her thoughts. "At the risk of killing the mood, I'm glad I was wrong about you."

"Are you referring to my reformed bad boy act?" he joked, both of them leaning in a little as they laughed together. "For what it's worth, Granger, I was wrong about you, too."

She nodded along, as though she had anticipated as much. "Most people expect the same uptight, bookish little witch they remember from Hogwarts."

"You were only perceived as uptight because you were forced into the role of caretaker," he said, plainly. "Half the Gryffindor lot would never learned how to lace their boots without your help."

Pressing her lips together to keep from laughing, she didn't deny it. "Thanks, I think."

He smirked. "They're probably going to have a few questions for you after tonight."

"After? I'm surprised they've not physically cut in right here and now."

"Potter and Ginny have been eyeing you the past couple of minutes."

Instinctively glancing in their direction, she paled a little. "I might need another drink after all."

"Any requests?"

"Er …" She darted a look at the open bar, giving it some thought as Hey by The Pixies filled the reception. "I've got a better idea."

He lifted an eyebrow, having just barely parted his lips to ask what it was she had in mind only to glance down as she grabbed him by the hand and forged a path away from the excitement.

Within seconds the pair of them had ducked into the back garden of the property, the music in the distance having been reduced to a faint th-thump. For a moment he had glanced back, waiting for one of the Gryffindor lot to come barrelling through thinking he had abducted their friend.

Only that didn't happen.

Hanging back a couple of steps, he watched as she lifted the skirts of her dress and made her way to the stone outhouse on the far end of the garden. Although it was considerably smaller and less manicured than the garden at Malfoy Manor, there was a slight charm to the wildflowers and the crooked, overgrown hedges that cradled the uncut grass.

"Coming?" she asked, hovering by the wooden door of the outhouse as she glanced back at him.

Without a word, he followed.

Five Minutes Later

"Found it!"

Swiping the bottle of firewhiskey she had hidden in the outhouse many summers ago, Hermione glanced through the dimness to find Malfoy examining the broomsticks propped on the wall. She had always imagined the outhouse was meant for gardening supplies but the Weasley's had only ever used it as a makeshift broom shed.

Rows and rows of broomsticks lined the walls. Old and new. Some were chipped and broken and some were pristine. One in particular, held together by a long strip of magical adhesive tape, had seemed to have caught Malfoy's eye.

"Harry's old Firebolt," she uttered, finding his side. "He left it here the summer after the war."

"I take it the two of you had spent a lot of time here in the old days."

She nodded, opening the bottle and having a sip before handing it to him. "For a few years it was like a second home to us," she described. "I had practically moved in one summer."

Taking in a mouthful, he held the silence a moment before he had said it. "Is it strange being here now? After everything that's happened."

"Yes and no," she thought, out loud. "It's like a museum of the life that I had thought I wanted."

He glanced to her, a knowing glimmer in his cool grey eyes. "You were never cut out for it."

Although she didn't know for certain what he had meant, she could tell by the conviction with which he had said it, that he had come to a similar realization in his own life. Some were meant to follow a straight path onto every stepping stone and some were meant to pave their own way.

Only as she had another sip of firewhiskey, allowing it to fill her insides and disentangle every knot along the way, did she look up at him in the dark of the broom shed and sink into the feeling she had been sidestepping all night long. By the time she had set the bottle down, the scent of his cologne lapping her chest cavity in warm waves as he leaned in, she had already closed her eyes and lost herself in the feeling of his lips.

Slowly they kissed, the softness of his touch rendering her still at first.

Part of her had always wondered what sort of man he had become since the war that had changed everything. The deeper he kissed her, running his hands through her hair and pressing her gently to the door as she kissed back, the more she wanted to find out.

Not a sound, not a thought had entered her mind beyond how badly she wanted him.

Knowing that, he dragged his kiss down her neck and grabbed handfuls of her dress as she tilted her head back. One of her sleeves slipped an inch or two down her shoulder, revealing more than she had intended, but she didn't bother to correct it.

"Have you got a condom?" she asked, as they broke apart a moment to gather their breath.

He nodded, sparing no time before he had shrugged his coat off and lifted her against the door, in a tangle of clothes, lips and body heat. Considerably less gentle now, he made his way down her body, her slip-on heels dangling from her toes.

It was all happening so fast and yet not fast enough.

Only as he came back to her lips, grazing the tip of his tongue against hers as she moaned into it, did he lean back an inch and have the nerve to say it. "Now I'm flirting."


A/N: Thoughts?