Previously on PS:
"Ginny filled my suitcase with socks," she explained, sounding a bit embarrassed. "I guess she was trying to be suggestive... it was either this or sleep in my dress." Draco chuckled to himself, glad to have covered up his complete lack of courtesy toward her.
"I think there might be one more option," he said, moving suggestively closer. Hermione giggled and embraced him, letting her fingertips massage his shoulder blades while he nuzzled her neck.
"Okay..." she agreed, "But go slow... please." Draco let a hot breath slowly onto her skin, and Hermione closed her eyes, basking in his gentle kisses.
~*~*~*~
CHAPTER ELEVEN: Queen to E5
Hermione squinted slightly as she stared at the ceiling. The masterpiece painted there was literally amazing... a collage of angels and fairies... magical beasts, horses, unicorns, children, flowers... even a small section completely dedicated to writing. A pen, paper, book, inkpot, quill... anything one might need, muggle or magic. Honestly, she was completely enthralled.
As she let her eyes work out every brush stroke, she nibbled on a Chessman cookie. She found them adorable, and delicious. Ron and Harry had given gifts, even if they hadn't planned on letting her stay long enough to open them; their logic never failed the boundaries of insanity. Ron had been the giver of this massive bag of little buttery cookie squares, embossed with knights, kings, queens, bishops and rooks. No doubt trying to be funny. Hermione had thrown his card away and started in on the cookies immediately.
Either Maddy and Cissa had come to deliver presents (possibly as an ulterior motive. That and, of course, ceiling dusting), or they had been flued over that morning, as the kitchen (which was located directly off the foyer) was piled high with gifts. Most were tiny packages, but that didn't mean anything. They were gifts of wizards; shrinking charms were common.
Hermione finished off a knight and searched the bag for a queen. They were her favorite. True, they all tasted exactly the same... but the thought that she was privy to the queens was enough to keep her happy.
Draco ascended the grand and beautiful black marble staircase at approximately nine o'clock. Evidently, their evening escapade hadn't tuckered him in the slightest. Hermione smiled at him once he noticed her. Draco stopped at the top of the stairs and lifted an eyebrow at his wife, who was lying with her back to the floor, knees knocking together and a cookie bag tucked under her arm.
"What the bloody hell are you doing?" he asked, voice booming in the empty room. Draco winced; he hadn't expected that. Hermione, however, giggled.
"I'm looking at the ceiling," she said, expertly keeping her voice at a dull roar. Draco began his descent.
"Right..." he said, careful of volume. She smiled at him and popped another cookie into her mouth. "Are you wearing my clothes?" he asked a moment later, bare feet reaching the carpeted foyer floor. Hermione grinned and nodded.
"Of course," she said, swallowing. "I can't very well go to the airport in my knickers, can I?" Draco smirked and took a seat beside her, looking down at the black boxers/white t-shirt combination he'd donned just for the purpose of coming downstairs. Hermione was wearing something similar, however her shirt was black, and she had opted for knee-length camouflage shorts. They were going all out muggle on their trip, and therefore had packed muggle clothes. Draco found himself glad he'd over packed, having gotten the wrong instructions. He was under the impression they were to leave at midnight as opposed to noon.
"If it were a private jet, I wouldn't mind," he stated, lifting his eyebrows three times in succession. Hermione rolled her eyes and bit into another cookie.
"And here I am thinking that sleeping with you would get all the dirty jokes out of your system," she said, shaking her head, and Draco laughed. He fell onto his back beside her and reached his hand into the bag. Hermione didn't spare the energy to glare at him.
"That's what you thought," he said, then popped a bishop into his mouth. Hermione watched as he chewed delicately, taste-testing his morsel. She dug her hand into the sack again, rolling her eyes, and discarded three or four squares before finding another queen. "I could get used to these," Draco said, reaching over her and into the biscuit bag for a second time. "Where did you get them? I thought Mum said there wouldn't be any food here." Before Hermione could answer, Draco made a face and turned to her. "What if they were left by people before us? They could be twenty years old by now..." Hermione laughed.
"They were a gift from Ron," she stated, and Draco's combination smile/look of disgust fell into a complete frown. "I think he was trying to be funny. Anyway, it makes a good breakfast." A few dozen thoughts were running through Draco's mind. The most prominent; why wasn't she upset? Maybe sexual healing was more powerful than he had originally thought...
"Are you alright?" he asked, just to be safe, and Hermione turned to him, grinning as she chewed.
"I'm fine, why?"
Draco, not wanting to be truthful and have it backfire and upset her, pretended to look angry.
"Well," he said, mock-haughtily. "I would think you would have waited for me before opening OUR presents. You didn't marry yourself, you know..." Hermione laughed.
"You are such a dolt, Draco. They weren't even wrapped. You try telling me you wouldn't have started EATING without waiting for me first."
"I could try, but I doubt you'd believe me," Draco agreed, pushing up onto his elbows. "Say..." he started. "We've got two hours... it won't take me that long to get ready. What say we break tradition and open something?" Hermione couldn't help but smile at him.
"We're not supposed to..."
"So? On every other present-bearing occasion, you get to open your presents ON that day. What makes this different? We should have done it last night, in my book... whose idea was it to put them ten feet away from us and say 'You can only look. Next week, you'll see what's inside.' I'll kill the bastard."
"Don't swear," Hermione scolded, but she was already laughing. Draco shrugged at her and grinned.
"Just proving my point, love. Come on, please?"
"I don't know why you're so excited," Hermione said, sitting up and rolling up the bag. "It's not your birthday... we aren't going to get Quidditch gloves and Fillibuster fireworks. It'll be China, knives, nick nacks... if we're lucky, some furniture... nothing fun."
"So? They're wrapped, that makes them fun," he said, ignoring the aspect of her rant which said 'no, we can't' and getting up to start for the kitchen. Hermione rolled her eyes before following him.
"You're such a child, honestly..."
"If so, then what you did last night was illegal," Draco shouted through the rips of paper. Hermione groaned and yet another crude sex joke.
"Wait for me!"
~*~*~*~
After the first five or six presents, Hermione gave up. She was honestly not thrilled with most of the things they had received, but was not disappointed, as they had acquired a table and chairs, which was well and good enough to make up for ceramic cats and turtledoves.
So, instead of boring herself, Hermione complained of a paper cut (to which Draco raised an eyebrow) and settled herself in a now full-size mahogany chair, upholstered with a deep red velvet, and opened her bag of cookies. She was more than enough amused by Draco's reaction to the less-than exciting presents; she needn't take part.
"Bloody hell," Draco said, tossing the cover of a gift box over his head. "There are only two of us, why do these people assume we need so many plates?" he groaned upon viewing their third set of dishes. These, however, were practical... made of a bright orange glazed ceramic, upon which they might actually choose to eat, unlike the two sets of china before them. Hermione, however, looked at them strangely.
"Draco," she said and he tiredly looked up at her. "Does it say what sort of plates those are? Look on the bottom..." Draco, without question, flipped over a plate and recited the label embossed on the bottom.
"'Fiestaware, copyright 1962'. Hey! I bet they found these in the attic or something and decided they'd make a nice gift... what cheep gits!" he ranted, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "I've been they've even eaten off them before..." She laughed.
"I hope not, for their sake," she said, nibbling on yet another cookie. Draco gave her an odd look.
"Why? What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, curious, and Hermione gave him a devious smile.
"Because..." she started. "Those plates are radioactive." Draco simply lifted an eyebrow.
"Radio-what?"
"Radioactive," Hermione said, then expanded. "They give off low level radiation..."
"Wait," Draco interrupted. "Like CANCER radiation?" She nodded, and he dropped the serving plate he was holding back into the box, as if it had bitten him, managing only to pop a few of the packing bubbles.
"Careful, love," she scolded. "And go find that box top. In fact, don't break anything or loose a nametag..."
"You mean, we're going to keep these? In our HOUSE? Do you hate me THAT much?" he asked, knowing full well that she didn't hate him in the slightest. Hermione giggled.
"Of course we're going to keep them. What if whoever gave them to us comes over for dinner? We'll have to show them how much we appreciated their gift..."
"You are so evil," Draco said seriously, shaking his head and shoving the top back on the box. Then, he looked down. "I can't believe it..."
"Can't believe what?" Hermione asked through a mouthful of cookie.
"My own grandmother..." he stated softly, and Hermione choked on a laugh.
"Nanny Clarabell? Really? Did she even come to the wedding?" she asked, but Draco merely shrugged. He looked as if she'd just broken the news about Santa Clause. "Oh, come now Drake, I'm sure she didn't even know..."
"That's not the point," he stated in defense, and Hermione laughed.
"It's not? What is it, then?"
Draco remained silently staring at the flatware, eyes as glazed as the plates. Hermione lifted her eyebrow at him, and waited until he dropped his guard and hunched his shoulders.
"Okay, maybe that was the point..."
Hermione laughed a bit, making Draco smile.
"Don't worry yourself over it. We'll get rid of that and get a new set; she won't even know the difference. That is, if she ever DOES come for dinner," she suggested, and Draco nodded, sliding the box near the growing pile opened gifts. "Go get dressed," Hermione said, assuming they were finished with gifts for the time being. "I want to leave soon." Draco looked at her strangely.
"Why? Our flight isn't for another two hours... it only takes five minutes to get to the airport."
"Well, yes... but we have to get through security, and I want to be on that plane a good long time before it takes off... just to be safe," Hermione explained, then pouted. "Please?" Draco rolled his eyes, but stood from the tiled floor and approached his wife. Hermione smiled as he kissed her and stole another biscuit, but stopped him before he left and took the cookie back again.
"Hey," he said, furrowing his eyebrows. "Those are mine, too." Hermione nodded as she clamped his cookie between her teeth for safekeeping, then placed a king in his hand.
"Yes..." she agreed. "But not the queens."
~*~*~*~
"Are you alright?" Draco asked, eyeing Hermione oddly as she gripped the armrests and kept her eyes closed. She seemed startled as he spoke, jumping slightly in her roomy first-class seat on the plane.
"Will you switch seats with me?" she asked from her position by the window, cracking an eye to view his reaction. Draco looked amused.
"Why?" he prompted, but Hermione just let out a deep breath.
"Please?"
Draco sighed and stood up, watching with a soft smile as Hermione sighed in relief. She stood as well and slipped in front of him as to allow her husband to occupy her seat. Draco placed his hands on her upper arms as he slid toward the window; they might have been first class seats, but there was hardly enough room for two teenagers to stand single file. Being the gentleman he was, Draco waited until Hermione was seated before bending his knees and falling back into the cushy seats. Hermione sighed in relief and turned back to him, smiling.
"This is much better. Thanks, Drakey," she said, wedging a hand into the crook of his arm and resting her cheek on his shoulder. Draco shook his head.
"Why do you people insist on calling me that?"
Hermione chuckled and tilted her head upward.
"Us people?" she asked, referring to the night before, and smirking. Draco joined her.
"Yes, you people. Pansy used to call me that, too," he explained, and Hermione's lips turned into a devious grin.
"I know she did... because I told her to."
"You what?" he asked, chuckling. "Why?"
"I knew it would annoy you. Didn't want you getting any indecent ideas about her..." Hermione explained and Draco lifted an eyebrow at her.
"Surely you know me better than that..."
"So what if I'm innocently paranoid?" she asked artlessly, fancying him with a sultry smirk. Draco rolled his eyes and turned to the window.
"Why'd you make me move, anyway?" he asked, turning back to her with a curiously quirked eyebrow. Hermione shuddered slightly.
"I hate the window," she said icily, eyes trained on the glass. Draco chuckled.
"And why is that? We've got a wonderful view of... well, water. You like water, don't you?" he asked mockingly, peering out the portal. Hermione shook her head.
"Not when I'm thousands of feet above endless miles of it with my only protection a flimsy window... what if I fall asleep and hit my head on it? It could break and suck me right through... then where would the water get me?" she explained in a hushed voice, as if not wanting the other passengers to hear. Most were either sipping soda or sleeping, either way not paying much attention. Draco, however, laughed out loud.
"What? Maybe you are a bit paranoid... honestly. I knew you had a thick head, love, but enough to break bulletproof glass? I learn something new everyday..."
Hermione gave him a loathing glare and wrenched herself from his comfortable arm, crossing her own over her chest. Draco chuckled.
"Hey, don't be mad at me... if you thought that true, the only thing you accomplished by moving was to put ME in danger. I love you too, Mynee, good Lord..." Draco said, completely sarcastic. Hermione took a moment to pout before she turned to him with a Charlie Brown worthy grin.
"No, love. What I did was ensure the safety of the entire plane. Your ego has made your head so big you wouldn't fit through the window, but would instead plug up the hole, keeping us all safe and sound."
"Ha!" Draco exclaimed. "What am I supposed to say to that?"
"How am I to know?" Hermione asked. "I'm not supposed to SUPPLY you with a witty retort, Draco. What would be the point of that?" Draco stared for a moment, then turned back to his ocean view.
"You're mean," he stated simply, making Hermione laugh and take his arm in her grasp again.
"I'm mean? That's all you've got?" she prodded. Without warning, Draco turned to her and pecked her on the lips before turning back to the window, sour face never changing. Hermione giggled, then reached her right hand, which was near the aisle, to his left cheek, turning his face toward her. Draco released his knotted eyebrows, quite surprised at her. "If you're going to kiss me..." she said, "Kiss me like you mean it, hm?" Draco smirked slightly before capturing her lips again. Hermione smiled as they broke apart and cuddled into him again without so much as a word. Draco watched her for a moment, then turned back to the window.
~*~
"Hermione... Hermione, love, wake up..." Draco whispered loudly, prodding her stomach with a finger. Hermione crossed her eyebrows and placed a hand over the spot he had damaged. Draco smiled, but shoved her with his arm. She woke up immediately.
"What, what? Are we there already?"
"No... the flight attendant said about half an hour until we get to New York, but then we have to switch planes before we get to Vancouver," Draco explained hurriedly, eager to get to the real reason he'd woken her. Hermione wearily nodded and rested her head back on his shoulder again.
"Alright," she said, "Wake me in twenty-five minutes." Draco smiled, but lifted her head up.
"No, I need to ask you something," he said, somewhat seriously, and Hermione blinked her eyes back open, smiling drunkenly.
"What?" she asked, watching him through parted lids. Draco sighed slightly and leaned closer.
"I was thinking about that kiss earlier..." he started, and Hermione smiled in remembrance. "And, well..." Draco sighed again. "Did you mean what you said?" She laughed lightly.
"About kissing me like you meant it? Don't be a dolt, Draco, I was just kidding..." she said, pecking hislips. "I know you meant it the first time." Hermione made to lay back down, but Draco pushed his shoulder upward again, jostling her from sleep. "What?"
"That's not what I'm talking about," he said and Hermione smiled.
"What then?"
"I mean what you said yesterday... at the alter. Did you mean that?" Draco corrected her and Hermione took a moment to think, a warm smile on her face as she recalled one of the better events of the day prior. As she picked out what he was talking about, she frowned and turned to him.
"When I said I loved you?" she asked, voice hushed as so not to be overheard. Draco gave a half smile, as if embarrassed. "Oh, Draco, of course I meant that..." He sighed and turned back to the window.
"The same way you meant it when we were seven..." he said, more to himself, and Hermione frowned. She suddenly felt nervous, as if he were apt to get up and walk out of her life at that very moment. Subconsciously, she tightened her embrace on his arm.
"Draco..." she started, unsure of exactly how to approach correcting him. It didn't feel right to just call him wrong... but there was something beyond that the bare-essential bond they'd shared as children.
"Is there ANYTHING more?" he asked, and Hermione immediately nodded. She shifted in her chair as to lean her forehead against his jaw. "You're not just saying that?" Hermione shook her head furiously.
"I would never..." she promised, voice deep with honesty. "I did mean it when I said that, Draco... and I meant it the way I should have, saying it at our wedding. I DO love you... I do." Draco kept his eyes on the window, but dug his jaw affectionately into her hair. Then, he sighed.
"What happened to 'us people' making your life so miserable?" he asked with more sadness than spite, and Hermione lifted her head, somewhat startled.
"What?" she asked, although fully aware of what he was referring to, and Draco remained silent. "Where is this all coming from?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow, and he simply shrugged. Hermione moved her hand to lace their fingers and tightened her other arm around his. "Don't think on that for a minute, Drake. I was just upset because... well, first my mother completely taking over everything... and then the hoard of people just... touching me at the reception... then Harry and Ron... plus..." She sighed. "Let's just say... you were wrong." Draco rocked their hands a bit, to get her attention and Hermione smiled softly, looking up at him.
"I was wrong?" he prodded gently, and his wife shrugged a shoulder.
"You said they wouldn't forget my birthday," she said softly, looking almost embarrassed. Draco frowned.
"Hermione, I..." he started, but Hermione shook her head and placed a slightly prolonged kiss on his cheek.
"We'll be there soon," she said, changing the subject. "I'm going to freshen up before the landing." And with that, Hermione detached herself from Draco's arm and fled to the back of the plane, disappearing into one of the little closets. Draco sighed and once again turned to the window.
~*~*~*~
A/N: Not much to say about this one... sorry it's been so long since I've updated. I've just had so much to do, what with school and everthing... and I started a new fic, it's called Tangled Up in Blue (TUB for short) and I wrote two chapters of that... it's not fair, I know... but it started out as a FLYT chapter and it just got so long that I made it into a real fic instead of trying to finish it up and post it as one FLYT. Anyway, that's all I've really got to say. Hope the chapter was worth the wait....
"Ginny filled my suitcase with socks," she explained, sounding a bit embarrassed. "I guess she was trying to be suggestive... it was either this or sleep in my dress." Draco chuckled to himself, glad to have covered up his complete lack of courtesy toward her.
"I think there might be one more option," he said, moving suggestively closer. Hermione giggled and embraced him, letting her fingertips massage his shoulder blades while he nuzzled her neck.
"Okay..." she agreed, "But go slow... please." Draco let a hot breath slowly onto her skin, and Hermione closed her eyes, basking in his gentle kisses.
~*~*~*~
CHAPTER ELEVEN: Queen to E5
Hermione squinted slightly as she stared at the ceiling. The masterpiece painted there was literally amazing... a collage of angels and fairies... magical beasts, horses, unicorns, children, flowers... even a small section completely dedicated to writing. A pen, paper, book, inkpot, quill... anything one might need, muggle or magic. Honestly, she was completely enthralled.
As she let her eyes work out every brush stroke, she nibbled on a Chessman cookie. She found them adorable, and delicious. Ron and Harry had given gifts, even if they hadn't planned on letting her stay long enough to open them; their logic never failed the boundaries of insanity. Ron had been the giver of this massive bag of little buttery cookie squares, embossed with knights, kings, queens, bishops and rooks. No doubt trying to be funny. Hermione had thrown his card away and started in on the cookies immediately.
Either Maddy and Cissa had come to deliver presents (possibly as an ulterior motive. That and, of course, ceiling dusting), or they had been flued over that morning, as the kitchen (which was located directly off the foyer) was piled high with gifts. Most were tiny packages, but that didn't mean anything. They were gifts of wizards; shrinking charms were common.
Hermione finished off a knight and searched the bag for a queen. They were her favorite. True, they all tasted exactly the same... but the thought that she was privy to the queens was enough to keep her happy.
Draco ascended the grand and beautiful black marble staircase at approximately nine o'clock. Evidently, their evening escapade hadn't tuckered him in the slightest. Hermione smiled at him once he noticed her. Draco stopped at the top of the stairs and lifted an eyebrow at his wife, who was lying with her back to the floor, knees knocking together and a cookie bag tucked under her arm.
"What the bloody hell are you doing?" he asked, voice booming in the empty room. Draco winced; he hadn't expected that. Hermione, however, giggled.
"I'm looking at the ceiling," she said, expertly keeping her voice at a dull roar. Draco began his descent.
"Right..." he said, careful of volume. She smiled at him and popped another cookie into her mouth. "Are you wearing my clothes?" he asked a moment later, bare feet reaching the carpeted foyer floor. Hermione grinned and nodded.
"Of course," she said, swallowing. "I can't very well go to the airport in my knickers, can I?" Draco smirked and took a seat beside her, looking down at the black boxers/white t-shirt combination he'd donned just for the purpose of coming downstairs. Hermione was wearing something similar, however her shirt was black, and she had opted for knee-length camouflage shorts. They were going all out muggle on their trip, and therefore had packed muggle clothes. Draco found himself glad he'd over packed, having gotten the wrong instructions. He was under the impression they were to leave at midnight as opposed to noon.
"If it were a private jet, I wouldn't mind," he stated, lifting his eyebrows three times in succession. Hermione rolled her eyes and bit into another cookie.
"And here I am thinking that sleeping with you would get all the dirty jokes out of your system," she said, shaking her head, and Draco laughed. He fell onto his back beside her and reached his hand into the bag. Hermione didn't spare the energy to glare at him.
"That's what you thought," he said, then popped a bishop into his mouth. Hermione watched as he chewed delicately, taste-testing his morsel. She dug her hand into the sack again, rolling her eyes, and discarded three or four squares before finding another queen. "I could get used to these," Draco said, reaching over her and into the biscuit bag for a second time. "Where did you get them? I thought Mum said there wouldn't be any food here." Before Hermione could answer, Draco made a face and turned to her. "What if they were left by people before us? They could be twenty years old by now..." Hermione laughed.
"They were a gift from Ron," she stated, and Draco's combination smile/look of disgust fell into a complete frown. "I think he was trying to be funny. Anyway, it makes a good breakfast." A few dozen thoughts were running through Draco's mind. The most prominent; why wasn't she upset? Maybe sexual healing was more powerful than he had originally thought...
"Are you alright?" he asked, just to be safe, and Hermione turned to him, grinning as she chewed.
"I'm fine, why?"
Draco, not wanting to be truthful and have it backfire and upset her, pretended to look angry.
"Well," he said, mock-haughtily. "I would think you would have waited for me before opening OUR presents. You didn't marry yourself, you know..." Hermione laughed.
"You are such a dolt, Draco. They weren't even wrapped. You try telling me you wouldn't have started EATING without waiting for me first."
"I could try, but I doubt you'd believe me," Draco agreed, pushing up onto his elbows. "Say..." he started. "We've got two hours... it won't take me that long to get ready. What say we break tradition and open something?" Hermione couldn't help but smile at him.
"We're not supposed to..."
"So? On every other present-bearing occasion, you get to open your presents ON that day. What makes this different? We should have done it last night, in my book... whose idea was it to put them ten feet away from us and say 'You can only look. Next week, you'll see what's inside.' I'll kill the bastard."
"Don't swear," Hermione scolded, but she was already laughing. Draco shrugged at her and grinned.
"Just proving my point, love. Come on, please?"
"I don't know why you're so excited," Hermione said, sitting up and rolling up the bag. "It's not your birthday... we aren't going to get Quidditch gloves and Fillibuster fireworks. It'll be China, knives, nick nacks... if we're lucky, some furniture... nothing fun."
"So? They're wrapped, that makes them fun," he said, ignoring the aspect of her rant which said 'no, we can't' and getting up to start for the kitchen. Hermione rolled her eyes before following him.
"You're such a child, honestly..."
"If so, then what you did last night was illegal," Draco shouted through the rips of paper. Hermione groaned and yet another crude sex joke.
"Wait for me!"
~*~*~*~
After the first five or six presents, Hermione gave up. She was honestly not thrilled with most of the things they had received, but was not disappointed, as they had acquired a table and chairs, which was well and good enough to make up for ceramic cats and turtledoves.
So, instead of boring herself, Hermione complained of a paper cut (to which Draco raised an eyebrow) and settled herself in a now full-size mahogany chair, upholstered with a deep red velvet, and opened her bag of cookies. She was more than enough amused by Draco's reaction to the less-than exciting presents; she needn't take part.
"Bloody hell," Draco said, tossing the cover of a gift box over his head. "There are only two of us, why do these people assume we need so many plates?" he groaned upon viewing their third set of dishes. These, however, were practical... made of a bright orange glazed ceramic, upon which they might actually choose to eat, unlike the two sets of china before them. Hermione, however, looked at them strangely.
"Draco," she said and he tiredly looked up at her. "Does it say what sort of plates those are? Look on the bottom..." Draco, without question, flipped over a plate and recited the label embossed on the bottom.
"'Fiestaware, copyright 1962'. Hey! I bet they found these in the attic or something and decided they'd make a nice gift... what cheep gits!" he ranted, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "I've been they've even eaten off them before..." She laughed.
"I hope not, for their sake," she said, nibbling on yet another cookie. Draco gave her an odd look.
"Why? What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, curious, and Hermione gave him a devious smile.
"Because..." she started. "Those plates are radioactive." Draco simply lifted an eyebrow.
"Radio-what?"
"Radioactive," Hermione said, then expanded. "They give off low level radiation..."
"Wait," Draco interrupted. "Like CANCER radiation?" She nodded, and he dropped the serving plate he was holding back into the box, as if it had bitten him, managing only to pop a few of the packing bubbles.
"Careful, love," she scolded. "And go find that box top. In fact, don't break anything or loose a nametag..."
"You mean, we're going to keep these? In our HOUSE? Do you hate me THAT much?" he asked, knowing full well that she didn't hate him in the slightest. Hermione giggled.
"Of course we're going to keep them. What if whoever gave them to us comes over for dinner? We'll have to show them how much we appreciated their gift..."
"You are so evil," Draco said seriously, shaking his head and shoving the top back on the box. Then, he looked down. "I can't believe it..."
"Can't believe what?" Hermione asked through a mouthful of cookie.
"My own grandmother..." he stated softly, and Hermione choked on a laugh.
"Nanny Clarabell? Really? Did she even come to the wedding?" she asked, but Draco merely shrugged. He looked as if she'd just broken the news about Santa Clause. "Oh, come now Drake, I'm sure she didn't even know..."
"That's not the point," he stated in defense, and Hermione laughed.
"It's not? What is it, then?"
Draco remained silently staring at the flatware, eyes as glazed as the plates. Hermione lifted her eyebrow at him, and waited until he dropped his guard and hunched his shoulders.
"Okay, maybe that was the point..."
Hermione laughed a bit, making Draco smile.
"Don't worry yourself over it. We'll get rid of that and get a new set; she won't even know the difference. That is, if she ever DOES come for dinner," she suggested, and Draco nodded, sliding the box near the growing pile opened gifts. "Go get dressed," Hermione said, assuming they were finished with gifts for the time being. "I want to leave soon." Draco looked at her strangely.
"Why? Our flight isn't for another two hours... it only takes five minutes to get to the airport."
"Well, yes... but we have to get through security, and I want to be on that plane a good long time before it takes off... just to be safe," Hermione explained, then pouted. "Please?" Draco rolled his eyes, but stood from the tiled floor and approached his wife. Hermione smiled as he kissed her and stole another biscuit, but stopped him before he left and took the cookie back again.
"Hey," he said, furrowing his eyebrows. "Those are mine, too." Hermione nodded as she clamped his cookie between her teeth for safekeeping, then placed a king in his hand.
"Yes..." she agreed. "But not the queens."
~*~*~*~
"Are you alright?" Draco asked, eyeing Hermione oddly as she gripped the armrests and kept her eyes closed. She seemed startled as he spoke, jumping slightly in her roomy first-class seat on the plane.
"Will you switch seats with me?" she asked from her position by the window, cracking an eye to view his reaction. Draco looked amused.
"Why?" he prompted, but Hermione just let out a deep breath.
"Please?"
Draco sighed and stood up, watching with a soft smile as Hermione sighed in relief. She stood as well and slipped in front of him as to allow her husband to occupy her seat. Draco placed his hands on her upper arms as he slid toward the window; they might have been first class seats, but there was hardly enough room for two teenagers to stand single file. Being the gentleman he was, Draco waited until Hermione was seated before bending his knees and falling back into the cushy seats. Hermione sighed in relief and turned back to him, smiling.
"This is much better. Thanks, Drakey," she said, wedging a hand into the crook of his arm and resting her cheek on his shoulder. Draco shook his head.
"Why do you people insist on calling me that?"
Hermione chuckled and tilted her head upward.
"Us people?" she asked, referring to the night before, and smirking. Draco joined her.
"Yes, you people. Pansy used to call me that, too," he explained, and Hermione's lips turned into a devious grin.
"I know she did... because I told her to."
"You what?" he asked, chuckling. "Why?"
"I knew it would annoy you. Didn't want you getting any indecent ideas about her..." Hermione explained and Draco lifted an eyebrow at her.
"Surely you know me better than that..."
"So what if I'm innocently paranoid?" she asked artlessly, fancying him with a sultry smirk. Draco rolled his eyes and turned to the window.
"Why'd you make me move, anyway?" he asked, turning back to her with a curiously quirked eyebrow. Hermione shuddered slightly.
"I hate the window," she said icily, eyes trained on the glass. Draco chuckled.
"And why is that? We've got a wonderful view of... well, water. You like water, don't you?" he asked mockingly, peering out the portal. Hermione shook her head.
"Not when I'm thousands of feet above endless miles of it with my only protection a flimsy window... what if I fall asleep and hit my head on it? It could break and suck me right through... then where would the water get me?" she explained in a hushed voice, as if not wanting the other passengers to hear. Most were either sipping soda or sleeping, either way not paying much attention. Draco, however, laughed out loud.
"What? Maybe you are a bit paranoid... honestly. I knew you had a thick head, love, but enough to break bulletproof glass? I learn something new everyday..."
Hermione gave him a loathing glare and wrenched herself from his comfortable arm, crossing her own over her chest. Draco chuckled.
"Hey, don't be mad at me... if you thought that true, the only thing you accomplished by moving was to put ME in danger. I love you too, Mynee, good Lord..." Draco said, completely sarcastic. Hermione took a moment to pout before she turned to him with a Charlie Brown worthy grin.
"No, love. What I did was ensure the safety of the entire plane. Your ego has made your head so big you wouldn't fit through the window, but would instead plug up the hole, keeping us all safe and sound."
"Ha!" Draco exclaimed. "What am I supposed to say to that?"
"How am I to know?" Hermione asked. "I'm not supposed to SUPPLY you with a witty retort, Draco. What would be the point of that?" Draco stared for a moment, then turned back to his ocean view.
"You're mean," he stated simply, making Hermione laugh and take his arm in her grasp again.
"I'm mean? That's all you've got?" she prodded. Without warning, Draco turned to her and pecked her on the lips before turning back to the window, sour face never changing. Hermione giggled, then reached her right hand, which was near the aisle, to his left cheek, turning his face toward her. Draco released his knotted eyebrows, quite surprised at her. "If you're going to kiss me..." she said, "Kiss me like you mean it, hm?" Draco smirked slightly before capturing her lips again. Hermione smiled as they broke apart and cuddled into him again without so much as a word. Draco watched her for a moment, then turned back to the window.
~*~
"Hermione... Hermione, love, wake up..." Draco whispered loudly, prodding her stomach with a finger. Hermione crossed her eyebrows and placed a hand over the spot he had damaged. Draco smiled, but shoved her with his arm. She woke up immediately.
"What, what? Are we there already?"
"No... the flight attendant said about half an hour until we get to New York, but then we have to switch planes before we get to Vancouver," Draco explained hurriedly, eager to get to the real reason he'd woken her. Hermione wearily nodded and rested her head back on his shoulder again.
"Alright," she said, "Wake me in twenty-five minutes." Draco smiled, but lifted her head up.
"No, I need to ask you something," he said, somewhat seriously, and Hermione blinked her eyes back open, smiling drunkenly.
"What?" she asked, watching him through parted lids. Draco sighed slightly and leaned closer.
"I was thinking about that kiss earlier..." he started, and Hermione smiled in remembrance. "And, well..." Draco sighed again. "Did you mean what you said?" She laughed lightly.
"About kissing me like you meant it? Don't be a dolt, Draco, I was just kidding..." she said, pecking hislips. "I know you meant it the first time." Hermione made to lay back down, but Draco pushed his shoulder upward again, jostling her from sleep. "What?"
"That's not what I'm talking about," he said and Hermione smiled.
"What then?"
"I mean what you said yesterday... at the alter. Did you mean that?" Draco corrected her and Hermione took a moment to think, a warm smile on her face as she recalled one of the better events of the day prior. As she picked out what he was talking about, she frowned and turned to him.
"When I said I loved you?" she asked, voice hushed as so not to be overheard. Draco gave a half smile, as if embarrassed. "Oh, Draco, of course I meant that..." He sighed and turned back to the window.
"The same way you meant it when we were seven..." he said, more to himself, and Hermione frowned. She suddenly felt nervous, as if he were apt to get up and walk out of her life at that very moment. Subconsciously, she tightened her embrace on his arm.
"Draco..." she started, unsure of exactly how to approach correcting him. It didn't feel right to just call him wrong... but there was something beyond that the bare-essential bond they'd shared as children.
"Is there ANYTHING more?" he asked, and Hermione immediately nodded. She shifted in her chair as to lean her forehead against his jaw. "You're not just saying that?" Hermione shook her head furiously.
"I would never..." she promised, voice deep with honesty. "I did mean it when I said that, Draco... and I meant it the way I should have, saying it at our wedding. I DO love you... I do." Draco kept his eyes on the window, but dug his jaw affectionately into her hair. Then, he sighed.
"What happened to 'us people' making your life so miserable?" he asked with more sadness than spite, and Hermione lifted her head, somewhat startled.
"What?" she asked, although fully aware of what he was referring to, and Draco remained silent. "Where is this all coming from?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow, and he simply shrugged. Hermione moved her hand to lace their fingers and tightened her other arm around his. "Don't think on that for a minute, Drake. I was just upset because... well, first my mother completely taking over everything... and then the hoard of people just... touching me at the reception... then Harry and Ron... plus..." She sighed. "Let's just say... you were wrong." Draco rocked their hands a bit, to get her attention and Hermione smiled softly, looking up at him.
"I was wrong?" he prodded gently, and his wife shrugged a shoulder.
"You said they wouldn't forget my birthday," she said softly, looking almost embarrassed. Draco frowned.
"Hermione, I..." he started, but Hermione shook her head and placed a slightly prolonged kiss on his cheek.
"We'll be there soon," she said, changing the subject. "I'm going to freshen up before the landing." And with that, Hermione detached herself from Draco's arm and fled to the back of the plane, disappearing into one of the little closets. Draco sighed and once again turned to the window.
~*~*~*~
A/N: Not much to say about this one... sorry it's been so long since I've updated. I've just had so much to do, what with school and everthing... and I started a new fic, it's called Tangled Up in Blue (TUB for short) and I wrote two chapters of that... it's not fair, I know... but it started out as a FLYT chapter and it just got so long that I made it into a real fic instead of trying to finish it up and post it as one FLYT. Anyway, that's all I've really got to say. Hope the chapter was worth the wait....