No, you are not dreaming. Yes, I am uploading new piece. Yes, it is in a fandom I have never written before.

Prompt of "quidditch" from the DFFR 2.0 FaceBook group. Thanks for (possibly) getting me back into writing mode.

Unbeta'ed because I have insomnia and wrote this at 1 am on my iPhone.

J.K. Rowling owns all "Harry Potter" characters.

Quidditch

"This is stupid," Hermione whined, stomping her foot as if that would help prove her point.

"It's not." Ginny argued. She threw the green fabric at Hermione's face. "He'll love it."

Hermione glared at the offending article now in her hands. "This isn't even official. It's... It's..."

"It's bloody brilliant is what it is!"

"Shut up, Ron."

"You know I don't see you like that anymore, Mione," he said in a matter of fact tone. "But as a man, as a Quidditch enthusiast, I can say with absolute certainty that if my witch put that outfit on, I would —"

"You would what, Ronald?"

The redhead's face scrunched up before his lips parted to let out a small sound of disgust. "I did not mean to picture you and the Ferret in that type of position."

"No. No."

Both Hermione and Ginny turned to where Harry was leaning against a dresser. His eyes were shut tightly as he shook his head viciously.

"Alright there, Harry?" When Ginny asked him the question, he opened his eyes to see her smirking. "Had a little reminder?"

"I am leaving. Right now," he said quickly. He pointed at Hermione. "I do not want to know a single thing about you in this get-up. Ever. Understand?"

Not waiting for a response, Harry ran out of the room. A still grimacing Ron followed him, leaving the two women alone in the bedroom.

"Just put it on, Hermione."

With a heavy sigh, Hermione did as she was told. Why this was happening, she had no idea. It seemed incredibly — well, maybe pathetic wasn't the correct term, but —

"Shite, Hermione, he's going to die when he sees you!"

"Lovely," she muttered in response as she slipped the robe over her shoulders and tugged on the laces over her chest. "Am I supposed to have the robe or the cape? What, exactly, are the conditions for these particular pieces?"

"Really? That's what you're asking yourself right now?" Ginny shook her head at her friend and handed over the arm guards. "Here. I have the shin guards too."

"Are you mad?" Hermione sputtered. "I do not need the guards!"

"We are going for the full effect!"

"This is absurd!"

"Granger, why are you practically screaming bloody mur—"

Both ladies turned to the doorway at the slow and familiar drawl that stopped abruptly. Draco was frozen in the doorway, his eyes full of fire as he caught sight of his girlfriend - fiancé, he corrected himself.

"Malfoy!" This time, it was Ginny who stomped her foot like a petulant child. "You are early!" she screeched. "I said seven!"

"It's past that," he said off-handedly, still not taking his gaze off Hermione. "Turn around again."

Hermione sputtered at the command but Draco just raised an eyebrow at her and spun a finger in the air. With pursed lips, she turned in a circle, and heard a hitch of breath once her back was to him again. Ginny snickered next to her, and when Hermione looked over her shoulder, she knew why. Draco had an arm out, as if it were taking all of his strength not to grab her and throw her against a wall - something she was deeply intimate with, and his jaw was clenched tightly. His Adam's Apple bobbed as he swallowed.

"Like it?" Ginny asked impishly. "Think of it as an engagement gift."

His eyes flicked over to the redhead. "Have I ever told you that you're my favorite Potter?"

"Many times," she smirked before sighing. "So... No to these?" She held up the guards.

"No!"

"Unnecessary," Draco said simply. His mind registered Ginny's deep sigh and the shuffling sounds she made as she gathered her things and began walking toward him to leave. He heard her low complaints of hair still not done and how she had a whole set-up prepared. As she moved past him, his arm dropped to her shoulder and he bent down to whisper. "This is very much appreciated."

When the whoosh of the Floo echoed faintly, Draco lazily swiped a hand through the air, resetting the wards. Hermione had turned to face him again, and his gaze dropped to the floor where Hermione's bare feet peeked out from beneath tan pants.

"Those aren't regulation," he uttered.

"That's what I said!"

"I'm not complaining, Granger."

The pants were most definitely not bought with sports in mind. They were tight - molding to Hermione's legs, almost like they were painted on. He walked toward her slowly, drinking in the shape of her hips where the hem of a green knit jersey met the pants. When he reached her, his fingers tugged down on the fabric before he flicked his wrists to push the robe away from her body.

"Merlin, you're a vision," he said lowly.

His palms moved up her body, skimming past her waist and over her ribcage before he found the laces at the front of the robe. He pulled, loosening them slightly before he brushed the back of his hand over her breast, right where the silver snake rested.

Hermione's breath hitched - she'd never get used to the feelings that coursed through her when he was near her, touching her. She lifted her chin so she could see him more clearly. When her tongue swiped over her lips, Draco groaned and pulled her closer by the back of her neck.

"What did I do to deserve this treat?" he asked against her lips, breathing the words into her mouth. One hand still at her neck, fingers winding into her hair, Draco's right hand moved back to the small ties, ready to unlace them completely. He paused. "Will you put this on again later?"

Hermione let out a laugh. She leaned up and pressed her mouth against Draco's lips, tasting the Firewhiskey he must have had before coming home.

"Tell you what," she said after pulling away. "I'll let you take me up for a broom ride while wearing it. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" His eyebrow quirked up again.

"Well, I don't plan on going out again tonight," she answered a bit too demurely.

She bit her lip and Draco let out a soft, "You minx." With a slight upturn of his lips, Draco pushed the robe off of Hermione, the material pooling on the floor. As he pulled her toward the bed, he huffed out a laugh that Hermione cut off with another kiss. Right before she pushed him backwards, he glanced at the robe on the floor, smirking at the grey letters of his name that adorned the back of it.

It would be her name soon enough.