Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human.

Chapter 30 Seize the Carp!

Hermione pulled her car into the lot of the library just before Draco was due to get out of work. She'd already packed the car for their trip and dropped Apollo and Artemis by Ginny's place for their two-week play date with Jamie. Not that Jamie could do much besides screech at them and shake his fists, but the puppies appreciated his enthusiasm – and his odor –nonetheless.

Hermione knew she was more than half an hour ahead of schedule, but she was wriggling with excitement and nervous energy.

Finally!

Two weeks in Italy!

She clapped her hands together and squealed, then remembered that she was an adult and in a public place, and tried to gather a modicum of poise. She quickly checked her reflection in her rearview mirror, then exited her car and ducked into the library to escape the chilly afternoon wind.

"Good afternoon, Wanda," Hermione said evenly as she paced to the information desk. "How are you?"

"Oh, hello dear! Good heavens, girl! Aren't you leaving for Italy this evening? Why the long face?" Wanda asked.

Hermione twitched. "Oh bugger it!" she cried. "I'm trying not to explode! I'm so excited!" She clapped her hands over her mouth as she started giggling.

Wanda laughed quietly, and shook her head. "You two are so funny. Draco's exactly the same. He's so keyed up he can hardly stand still. You'd think neither one of you had ever been on holiday before."

Hermione bit her lip. Wanda was right in so many ways. Obviously she and Draco were just recently independent adults, but even setting that aside, the last time either of them had experienced anything resembling a holiday had been long before Voldemort had risen. So really, maybe five years or more.

Just the idea of flying away from the sunset towards the Mediterranean with Draco by her side was so utterly, deliciously different from anything she'd experienced with her parents as a young girl, that Hermione's very toes curled in anticipation. She also knew what Draco had not-so-sneakily stuffed in the rucksack he'd uncharacteristically insisted on packing himself. The small velvet box that she'd briefly seen during their huge row weeks before was currently residing alongside his passport, a few books and some other traveling odds and ends.

'Try not to think about it, Hermione,' she told herself firmly. 'Draco's a man and you have to let him work this out himself.' She wrung her fingers together as she grinned sheepishly at Wanda. "We are both pretty excited. Speaking of Draco, where is my elusive librarian?"

Wanda rolled her eyes. "He's in the break room." She reached down under the counter she stood behind and plucked Draco's keys from their peg. "Here, you might as well go ahead and take him and go, dear. He's been useless this afternoon anyway."

Hermione beamed and accepted the keys, then dashed around the shelves towards the back of the library. As she passed the rack of magazines, her gaze caught on a gauzy white bridal dress, and her footsteps faltered as once again, she was swept away in heady fantasy.

'Just think, two weeks in Rome and Pompeii, and I could possibly come home as the future Mrs. Draco Malfoy…Mrs. Hermione Malfoy, oh my…oh no, not again, snap out of it Hermione!' She turned her head and resolutely marched towards the break room.

Hermione was particularly horrified by the moments she found herself doodling Mrs. Hermione Malfoy over and over again on scraps of paper. She'd seen this particular weakness of mind portrayed in her schooldays by Lavender Brown in her Won-Won days, and by Pansy Parkinson for a few awkward weeks after the Yule Ball when she'd hoped Draco, at fourteen, would be interested in an arranged marriage.

Hermione snorted. 'Take that, Parkinson,' she thought to herself. Then her shoulders sagged. Within twenty-four hours after she'd seen the ring box during their fight – and no, she'd not tried to find it on her own to look at the ring itself; she didn't want to spoil Draco's surprise – she'd gone into full-on, hormone fueled, girl mode.

Hermione had dragged her sorry carcass over to Ginny's as soon as Draco had left for the library on the Tuesday after their reconciliation.

"He bought a ring!" she'd wailed.

Ginny called in the reinforcements immediately. Within the hour, Molly, Fleur, Penelope and Angelina were all commiserating with Ginny and Hermione over her previous foolish behavior in avoiding Draco over the prior weeks. Then they had worked with her on how she was to behave now that she knew.

"Because you can't push him, dear," Molly said.

"Oh, no, cherie," Fleur laughed. "It must be in their own way, in their own time, or they will not do it at all, savez?"

"But you can nudge," Angelina chimed in.

"Oh, definitely," Penelope agreed. "You need to give him little clues to indicate that you're ready, or open to hearing him. Or at least that you won't run away screaming, which is what most men seem to think we're all really going to do at the first sign of a bended knee and an open ring box."

The Weasley ladies, plus Hermione, all laughed.

"Really though, Hermione dear, just enjoy your time together. You're young yet. There's no hurry," Molly said.

When all the girls in the room started coughing into their hands words like "hypocrite" and "seventeen,", "honestly, Mum," Molly had the good grace to laugh.

"Fine then, Hermione, and all you lot. Carpe diem. Make the most of every moment you have together. Goodness knows Ginny and Harry certainly did, judging by this little pork-pie," Molly said as she hefted a round-bellied Jamie into her arms.

Ginny blushed and covered her eyes. Fleur and Penelope put their hands on Ginny's shoulders and gave sisterly squeezes of comfort.

Angelina quickly leaned over and patted Hermione on the knee and said cheerfully to dispel any damper on the mood of the day, "that's right, Hermione. As the boys always say, 'seize the carp!'"

'For pity's sake, Hermione, you can think about seizing the carp – ugh – the day – later,' she told herself sternly as she shook herself out of her daydream – again – and rounded the last row of shelves that concealed the break room door. Through the open door she saw her boyfriend hunched over a yellow pad of paper. He had scrawled and scratched out several lines of text, and even had several pages torn out and wadded up on the table next to him.

"Hey," Hermione called out.

Draco's head snapped up, and his hands immediately wadded up the paper he'd been writing on into a tight ball. "Hello, Little Girl. You're looking awfully happy right now. Did you have a particularly good day, or is your tail wagging so vigorously because you're delighted to see me?"

Hermione laughed and jingled Draco's keys in her open palm. "Wanda says you've been completely useless because you're so excited about your holiday, Mr. Pot. So grab your coat, because we're leaving!"

Draco's eyes lit up as he stood from his seat. "Brilliant! And I'm most certainly not Mr. Pot, Ms. Kettle, because my tail is not wagging. Yours however seems to be wagging harder the closer I get to you. Hmm…"

Hermione's heart rate sped up as Draco slid up next to her and tossed his collection of wadded up paper into the rubbish bin with one hand while grabbing her around the waist with his free hand. She wound her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Mmm, do you realize you're vibrating like a tuning fork?" Draco mumbled into her hair as he reached for his jacket with his free hand.

Hermione scoffed. "I beg to differ. You, however, are trembling with pent up giddiness. Yes, you are as giddy as a schoolgirl."

Draco narrowed his eyes as he released his grip on Hermione so that he could slip into his coat. "You're going to regret that statement, Girl."

Hermione shrugged and said cheekily, "Don't care. Catch me if you can!" And with that she tore off through the shortest route possible down the aisles. She dashed past Wanda with a hearty wave, and sprinted out the front door with a chuckling Draco hot on her heels.

Wanda sighed happily as the two called their goodbyes to her. It was amazing, simply amazing, how much that boy had changed since he'd first started working with her. The quiet, solemn Malfoy boy that she'd first trained in July had been barely alive compared to the happy, healthy creature that had just flown out the front door. Hermione really had made a great change in him. But then, he'd brought about a great change in her as well. Wanda reflected on the Hermione she'd first been introduced to, and happily conceded that the two young people were, indeed, two peas in a pod. No two young people that she'd ever met completed each other so well as Draco and Hermione. It struck her as very odd that they hadn't gotten together while they were in school, and as Wanda set about cataloguing returns, she absently wondered what had kept the two from realizing their potential together when they were younger.

/…../

By midnight they'd arrived in Rome via private jet and gotten settled into a tiny hotel situated on a discreet side-street not too far from Vatican City. The next morning Hermione congratulated herself as she sipped from a tiny cup of espresso as Draco hid behind an Italian newspaper and perused the local headlines. The café she had chosen for their morning breakfast was the perfect blend of posh and mundane that seemed to be what kept Draco entirely within his comfort zone when it came to Muggle life.

It was with this same goal in mind that she'd booked a private jet to fly them to Rome in the first place. Draco had never flown in an airplane before, and Hermione had carefully balanced his distaste for public transportation at home against his horror at portrayals of commercial flight in the cinemas, and decided the small fortune she would pay out to hire a private flight would be more than worth it.

It had been. Much like when she'd first purchased her car, Draco had been enamored with the various buttons and functions in the plush seats of the luxurious jet. He'd also gotten decidedly sick when he tried to flip through the magazine Hermione had brought him, and spent a good deal of the flight stretched out with his head in her lap. Hermione had tried teasing him into feeling better by mentioning the tiny but well-appointed bedroom in the rear of the plane.

A dark grey eye had snapped open to glare at her. "Girl, are you just desperate for me to vomit on you, or do you honestly believe that I'm a pathetic, sex-starved tosser that longs more than anything to join the mile-high club?"

Hermione had laughed at his indignation, and settled back in her seat to watch the darkening sky. Just as she'd hoped, the sunset had been lovely to behold from the view out the tiny windows. Draco had been able to drift into a feeble attempt at a nap as Hermione's idle fingers had traced patterns across his temples and into his hair.

Now, as Hermione sat across the table from Draco on their first of fourteen days in Italy, she wanted to implement some of the advice the Weasley women had given her weeks before. She set her espresso cup down in its saucer and leaned back in her chair. "Draco?" she queried. Her boyfriend hummed in response, then promptly folded the newspaper and sat it on the table. He cocked an eyebrow in her direction, and Hermione cleared her throat.

"So, ahem, I was thinking," Hermione began.

"Naturally," Draco quipped.

"Draco, honestly. I wanted to thank you for bringing me here. I mean, I know we haven't done anything yet, outside of sleep and drink a spot of coffee. But really, it means a great deal to me that you care enough about me to take me away to explore the world."

Draco nodded. "You're very welcome, love. In all honesty I think you gave me a far better Christmas gift. The puppies have been unlike anything I've ever known, and I can't compare a simple two-week holiday to the long-term commitment you've given me with Artemis and Apollo."

Hermione smiled and looked down at her hands. "It just seemed right. You're wonderful with them, and they certainly love you. But coinciding with that, I wanted to talk about us. Or, the future, somewhat." Hermione reached down into her day-bag and rifled around until she came across the battered, green paperback copy of The Song of the Dodo. She set it carefully on the table next to her espresso cup and traced the outline of the dodo bird on the cover as she continued her prepared speech.

"Anyway," she continued, "do you remember when we first started seeing each other, how I said I wanted to sort of lay low for a while so that I could heal myself and clear my head after the war?"

Draco nodded. "Yes, I remember being very worried you were looking for a therapist, when all I wanted to do was stick my tongue in your mouth."

Hermione flushed at the memory of those first brief days that they teetered on the edge of being allies and friends before they tumbled headlong into love. "Well, you certainly did that less than twenty-four hours later, oh master of seduction."

Draco smirked. "Hey, carpe diem, love. I had to mark my territory before some other wanker tried to swoop in and stake a claim."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Mission accomplished, darling. Aside from getting 'Property of Draco Malfoy' tattooed across my forehead, I think it's fairly obvious to every male within a hundred kilometers of Little Whinging that I am unavailable."

Draco grinned cheekily at her, "I think a tattoo bearing my name somewhere on your body is a brilliant idea, Little Girl. Perhaps we can explore that idea while we're in Rome?"

"Absolutely not! I was joking!" Hermione wailed in horror.

"Oh come on, Hermione. You could get a little 'I heart Draco' tattoo on your lower back like a – what did Sue call it?"

"It's called a tramp stamp, and can we please get back to the original topic instead of this potential list of things that I will never do?"

"Ah, you mean the list of places you would like to visit now that you feel stable and confident enough in your life because you have the world's best boyfriend to accompany you?"

"Exactly! Or, well, not because of you, but along with you, obviously. Look Draco, you've read this book. We've read lots of books. But I don't want to just sit at home and read about these places; I want to see them! I want to experience them!" Hermione said vehemently as she tapped her finger against the worn green cover of her book.

Draco leaned over and picked up the book. He casually flipped through the pages, and then looked up at her. "You know, Hermione, these aren't major cities that the author is popping in and out of. This book is comprised of remote site after remote site. I like nature as much as the next bloke, but are you sure this is the kind of traveling you want to do? There won't be five-star hotels and world-class shopping-"

Hermione leapt up and yanked the book out of his hands. "I am well aware of that, you prissy little thing. Don't even try to put that over on me. Do I really need to remind you that I lived in a tent for nearly a year?"

"That was a magical tent, and you were able to use your magical powers to magically keep away any creatures that might do you harm. Whereas in that book you're wielding like a weapon, most of the far-flung locations the author visits are rife with poisonous creatures, or man-eating creatures, or poisonous, man-eating creatures…"

Hermione scoffed. "Poisonous, man-eating creatures? Hogwash. There were no magical beasts in this book, and you sound like a sniveling coward hiding behind your mummy's skirts to stay away from-"

Draco cut her off. "Komodo dragons are poisonous, man-eating creatures, and I don't want to go anywhere near them. They sound bloody dangerous, and I refuse to venture anywhere around them without magical reinforcement."

Hermione blinked. "Well, yes. I suppose you're right. Komodo dragons are bloody dangerous. All right, we'll stay away from Indonesian islands populated by Komodo dragons. And also, we'll stay away from the Amazon River. I have a fairly healthy, if unreasonable, fear of piranhas."

Draco stared at her for a second, and then burst out laughing. "Well that seems like a perfectly healthy fear to me, love. All right, so we'll plan some trips over the next few years using your book as a guide. But any areas with Komodo dragons or piranhas are off the board, no questions asked. I think that's perfectly acceptable."

Hermione grinned. "So you're perfectly fine with my planning a trip for us to visit, say…Tasmania?"

"Or Mauritius," Draco offered.

"Or the Seychelles?"

"Or the Galapagos," Draco returned.

"Or Rakata?"

"Krakatoa just sounds better, don't you think?" Draco countered.

"Agreed," Hermione replied.

Once the waiter had delivered a steaming new cup and saucer to Hermione's side, she sipped it carefully and said, "You know, Draco, even if we were to visit three different locations every year, it could be a decade or more before I ran out of ideas. I hope you don't get tired of me dragging you around the world for so many years, because I'll always want you with me. You're rather good company." She smiled shyly at him and waited for her words to soak in. 'Carpe diem, Hermione,' she thought to herself. 'He's got to understand that hint.'

Draco must have understood her hint a little, because his cheeks flushed a dull pink as he swallowed convulsively. He looked down at her hand, still sprawled across the cover of The Song of the Dodo, and covered it up with his own. "That's good to know," he said quietly, and then he lifted his chin towards the waiter to signal for the check. "Come on, Little Girl, let me introduce you to the parts of Rome I already know, and then we can explore the other bits together."

Hermione and Draco stood and gathered their jackets, and Hermione stuffed her battered green book into her day-bag. Then they clasped hands and ventured down into the streets and into the winding history of Rome, and set about making some history of their own.

/…../

It was equally amusing and frustrating to wander the streets of Rome as a Muggle. Draco would make a turn, murmuring about a shop or small architectural wonder, and come upon a brick wall, and then curse in irritation more often than not. More than once, Hermione's guide book had to lead them back into a reasonable territory so that they could regain their bearings and find a backup plan.

"Well, the catacombs you were looking for were most obviously in the wizarding section, Draco, so, how about these ones?" Hermione gestured with her finger towards a glossy photo of the Catacombe di San Callisto.

Draco shrugged listlessly, and obligingly flipped his hand out to summon a cab. "It's sort of disappointing, Blaise and I spent so much time hunting through those ones back there, and we really thought we were great explorers, hunting through ancient barbarian Muggle history. It turns out we were in the wizarding section all that time? How utterly anti-climactic."

Hermione patted his arm.

Hours later as they sat at dinner in a small trattoria with a view of the Tiber, Draco seemed lost in his thoughts as he swirled around his glass of malbec and gazed out at the river. Hermione was content to let the conversation rest and her sore feet relax. They'd walked a great deal, above ground as well as underground, and she'd nearly swooned at the Biblioteca Angelica…oh, it had been breathtaking!
Suddenly Draco let out a sharp bark of laughter. "You want to hear something funny?"

Hermione looked up from her angel hair and quirked an eyebrow at him.

"I was just thinking of Blaise and I, rummaging around in those old wizarding catacombs, thinking they were Muggle bones. We used to play with their skulls."

Hermione's jaw dropped.

Draco held up a hand. "It was horribly disrespectful, obviously, but we told ourselves we were gathering facts of nature. Proving that Muggles were different – you know? We measured their skulls, and recorded our results, and congratulated ourselves that they were obviously in some way far smaller than ours, or different in some way that made them inferior."

Hermione gave a tiny, grim smile as Draco shook his head.

"And all that time, they were wizards. Besides that, they were humans, and there's no difference whatsoever anyway. But it really kind of brings me back. Blaise and I, we thought we were good kids. Smart, well-mannered, protective of our families. But in all actuality, we were awful, horrible children."

Hermione reached over and patted his hand sympathetically for not the first time that day. "Draco, I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but most little boys are slightly macabre or at least a little bit dreadful in one way or another. I mean, granted what you and Blaise did was across the board disgusting and unholy, but you were just raised wrong." She grinned at him.

Draco glared at her. "That was a completely sexist statement."

Hermione nodded. "It was. I have to admit I am horribly biased. I can only hope we have daughters instead of sons."

Draco's eyes widened, and Hermione blushed. She was saved from further discussion when the waiter returned to take away their plates and refresh their wine glasses, and she quickly changed topics to their plans for the next day.

/…../

"Hello?"

"Hey, dickhead! Did you miss me?"

Draco drew up from his prone position on the hotel bed with a gasp. "Blaise?"

A familiar, but thoroughly Americanized voice chuckled from the other end of Draco's mobile. "Naturally. Can you believe it? We're both alive! One million points to Slytherin for out-smarting and out-maneuvering He Who Wouldn't Take No For An Answer. What an asshole."

Draco laughed at his long-missing friend's avant-garde eulogy of the late Dark Lord. "Can't say I disagree with you there, mate. He was indeed an asshole. So, how are things? So, how's your mum and the principessa?"

Hermione smiled to herself as she listened from their suite's plush window seat that overlooked a tiny side street. The timing couldn't possibly have been more perfect. Draco's phone call from his old friend Blaise Zabini was bound to keep him occupied for at least half an hour or longer, which would give her adequate time to complete the next phase of her carpe diem agenda. She quickly sat her book down on the window seat, grabbed her day-bag and waggled her fingers at him. "Be right back," she mouthed to her preoccupied boyfriend.

When Draco had mentioned the other morning that he had thought it a terribly charming idea that she tattoo his name on her body, she had summarily shot it down. But yesterday afternoon two things caught her eye while Draco had been consumed by the local headlines: a fantastic little lingerie boutique had some positively charming knickers in a multitude of colors, and a tailor's shop had a sign in their window that she was able to roughly translate to read, 'we do embroidery'.

By the next evening, Hermione had a dozen pairs of seriously adorable new cotton underpants that read in a careful inch-high script just under the back seam across her bum, 'Property of Draco Malfoy.'

Ha! It was brilliant, and surely one of those moves that would knock Draco sideways.

/…../

Draco's eyes boggled nearly out of their sockets when he saw the embroidered knickers for the first time. Hermione had slid one pair onto her bum as she was getting ready for their evening out when Draco attacked. He'd bent her over the bathroom countertop and ran his fingers across the stitching.

"This," he muttered, "is unbelievable. Why did you do this?"

"Thought you'd like it?" Hermione grumbled. "Let me up, Draco."

"Mmm, no. Stay," Draco commanded, and tried to push her feet apart so he could insinuate himself against the backs of her thighs.

"Hey!" Hermione cried in a muffled voice from her squashed position against her jeans and t-shirt, still folded neatly on the bathroom counter. She wriggled and pushed backwards. "Draco, you arse, we have dinner reservations in half an hour! The knickers were just for a lark, not an invitation to shag me whenever you got a notion!"

Draco huffed, and stepped back, but ran his fingers across the lettering on Hermione's bottom again. He chuckled darkly. "Christ, this is fucking ridiculously sexy, and I don't even know why."

Hermione whipped around before Draco could try and mount her like a randy farm animal again, and hopped up to peck him on the lips before she wiggled away from him to get the rest of her clothes on.

"Surely you know why, Draco. With all the licking and territory marking you always do?" Hermione rolled her eyes as she zipped her jeans.

Draco smirked. "Are you implying that your ass belongs to me?" He reached out for said derriere, but Hermione danced away from his fingertips.

Hermione smirked and gave her hips a little wiggle before she dashed out to the bedroom to find her shoes. As she was lacing up her trainers, she smiled beatifically up at her boyfriend, who was still staring determinately at her bottom. "I wouldn't say that, darling. More like there's no bloody way I'm getting a tattoo. Good compromise?"

Draco nodded his head enthusiastically, and then winced as he adjusted himself in his trousers. "Fucking excellent compromise, but for the fact that I'm going to be very uncomfortable for the rest of the evening."

Later in the evening as they walked through Rome at night, from the Castel Sant'Angelo, to the Piazza Navonna, past the Fontana di Trevi and all the way to the Colosseum, Hermione was amused to find that Draco kept sticking his hand down the back of her jeans. His fingers would run across the stitching that ran across the top of her underwear, and he would occasionally snicker to himself.

'Boys,' she thought to herself. They always loved to mark their territory. Well, it was far better than being licked constantly, and really, there was no way she would ever consider getting an 'I heart Draco' tattoo.

/…../

Draco glared down at the ring box in his hand. It had been defying him for weeks, nay, months now, with its passivity. How could something so small fuck with his mind so much?

'Passive-aggressive mind-fuckery, wrapped in velvet and tied up with horrid little heart-strings-'

"Draco? The concierge just called to say that our cab has arrived. Are you ready yet?" Hermione's voice called through the locked bathroom door.

Draco opened the box, pulled the ring out and quickly stuffed it into his dinner jacket's inner breast pocket, and called, "yes, all set. Just looking for my cufflinks." He threw the ring box into his rucksack and rummaged around for his cufflinks. The stupid things were never where he left them…

"Oh, you mean these cufflinks that I am currently holding? You left them on the night stand," Hermione said.

It was their last evening in Rome before they were to leave for Pompeii and the Amalfi coast, and Draco had booked them dinner reservations at a restaurant that also had live music and dancing under the stars.

It was supposed to be a warm evening, and the courtyard dining area was surrounded by overhanging grapevines climbing on arbors that created a frame for the open evening sky.

Hermione had opted to wear her deep red dress she'd worn to young Renton and Lindy's wedding last autumn, and Draco had been hard pressed not to flip her skirt up and take a peek underneath to see if she'd worn the same pink corset and knickers set she'd bought specifically for that dress, or if she'd gone for something different.

Hermione batted his hands away. "That's for me to know and you to find out later, Mr. Malfoy. Now come on, our cab is waiting," she said, and clasped hands with her boyfriend.

Dancing with Hermione was, as always, completely wonderful. The simple music playing in the background allowed couples of all ranges of technical ability to wind their way around the floor. For Draco, merely swaying back and forth while shuffling their feet side to side wasn't quite on the menu for the evening, but it wasn't far from it. He was too focused on the feeling of holding her warmth in his arms, and seeing the stars reflected in her eyes, to concentrate on anything else.

Words, phrases, sentences, caught in his throat as images assaulted his mind.

Hermione, glowing in white and bedecked in flowers as she exchanged rings with him.

Hermione, pushing a white-haired baby in one of those ridiculous running prams.

Hermione, returning to the Ministry with him, gathering up their wands and their magic, and giving the entire magical community the two-fingered salute before turning their backs on the entire world they'd come of age in forever, and continuing on in the life they'd made together.

Dear God, there was nothing in the world that appealed to him more than this. She was worth it. He could leave everything behind and let the wolves have it all – the Malfoy fortune meant nothing to him. The Malfoy name meant nothing to him. It was just a last name. Like Smith or Jones or Granger.

But did she think he was worth it? As Draco spun Hermione around the dance floor, and later, throughout an exquisite meal, Draco pondered the question.

Fuck it. At this rate, he'd spun himself in so many redundant circles of self-doubt he didn't know what the hell he was doing or why he was trying so hard.

Hermione sat benignly across from him, sipping champagne and poking absently at her tiramisu as Draco struggled with himself. He felt like his tongue was swelling and shrinking in alternating cycles – along with his bollocks – as his palms flashed with cold sweat.

'Just fucking do it,' he thought to himself. 'Quickly. Hermione, will you marry me? Simple yes or no question. Nothing else, or you risk vomiting on the table. Bloody hell, it's crowded in here. There's going to be a lot of witnesses if this goes badly. Well, at least this also means she won't start shrieking or jump up and run away – at least out of politeness, if this isn't what she wants. That would be bloody awful. Oh for fucks sake, stop stalling, you wanker.'

Draco wiped his hands on his trouser legs, and reached for his champagne and took a last gulp to clear his mouth. As he set his glass down with one hand, he reached for his inner breast pocket with his other hand. "Ahem," he coughed to clear his throat. Hermione, who'd been gazing to her left, looked over at him quizzically.

Draco smiled at her. "Hermione, I-"

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed. "Draco," she hissed, and jerked her head to the left. Draco's eyes wandered over to see what she was so insistent he not disturb. It was at this time that he realized that the entire restaurant had fallen silent, as his eyes fell on the young couple seated at the table next to him.

The young man across from him obviously held his heart on a plate as he gazed at the doe-eyed girl across from him. She had her hands clasped over her mouth as if to hold back a gasp or a scream as her eyes focused on the delicate diamond ring her lover proffered to her, and the gathered patrons of the restaurant held their collective breaths as they awaited her response to his obvious question.

"Yes!" she cried as tears streaked out of the corners of her eyes, and sighing, clapping and cheering broke out across the restaurant.

The band started to play again, a lively Italian love song that made Draco nearly cringe with remorse. He'd been upstaged by – what, five, maybe ten seconds, by the ponce next to him? He turned to Hermione, who was positively beaming, and could barely hold back his outrage and regret. Bile churned in his stomach.

Draco gave Hermione a tight-lipped smile, and put his napkin on his plate. "If you'll excuse me for a moment," he mumbled.

Moments later, Draco was leaning against the cool stone wall of the men's loo. He closed his eyes and tried vainly to gather his thoughts. Vomiting was out of the question, as was murdering the newly engaged bloke out there. Wasn't his bloody fault he had piss fucking poor timing….

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring. Such a small thing, really. Such a tiny, insignificant thing that had utterly taken over his life and had revealed him to be a coward in ways that he'd never felt before. He flipped the ring in his fingertips over and over again as he absently contemplated his fate. What a fuck up the arse. He'd utterly been shown up, just because he couldn't open his bloody mouth ten fucking seconds faster and say, "Will you marry me?"

The men's room door swung open. Draco was reminded of that phrase Hermione mentioned once that went something along the lines of 'speak of the devil and the devil shall appear', because the newly affianced young man strode in. Draco stiffened, but maintained his pose against the stone wall, rolling the ring between his fingertips as the other man took a whizz, and then wandered over to wash his hands.

As the other man was checking his hair, whistling the entire time he did so, Draco said quietly, "congratulations."

The man glanced over and recognized that Draco was the man seated at the table next to him, and smiled. Then he noticed that Draco's gaze was focused on his own hands, and looked to see what he was doing.

The young man's eyes widened.

Draco looked up to meet the other man's gaze, and nodded at the question in the other man's eyes. "It appears that I will have to wait until another occasion. Two proposals in one evening…well. It just wouldn't feel appropriate anymore, would it?" Draco asked.

The other man shook his head. "No, it would not. I am sorry, my friend. But I have to say, it took me six months to get the nerve to ask my girl. So while I apologize for your lost chance, I am so glad my heartache is at an end! She said yes!"

Draco frowned in disgust as the other man clapped his hands once and turned to the mirror to check his appearance again. After digging a bit of something dreadful out of a back tooth – seriously, he proposed before cleaning his teeth? Hermione never would have gone for that – the wanker actually winked at Draco and shot him with a finger gun before cheerily saying, "carpe diem, my friend," and leaving Draco alone in the men's room.

Draco sighed and dropped his head back against the wall. He drew up one leg to rest his foot against the wall behind him, and sighed again. Bugger. He held the ring up to his eyes and gazed at the stone. It flashed gold-green-blue-violet in the yellow light, and Draco was once again taken aback by the utter unique beauty of it. Just like Hermione. He couldn't wait to give it to her. He just had to…say the magic words. Carpe mother fucking diem. 'Will you marry me?' 'I love you' was infinitely easier. Hell, 'Avada Kedavra' was easier.

With a groan, Draco stuffed the ring back in his breast pocket and pushed the door of the loo open so that he could collect his girlfriend and get the hell out of that bloody restaurant.

To Be Continued

Book Reference:

David Quammen: The Song of the Dodo: Island Biogeography in an Age of Extinction (Simon & Schuster, 1996)

P.S.: There isn't a day that went by in the past three months that I didn't struggle – and I mean epically struggle like Tesla vs. Cthulhu (!YES! I just did that!) – on this chapter. And you would know this if you were following me on Twitter (come play, we have toys and candy). Late October, right after I posted chapter 29, my adorable five year-old dumped a smoothie into my laptop. Fail. I wrote a lot of this chapter in notebooks, on yellow notepads, and on my iPad. This was another fail. Cutting and pasting a chapter together was a mistake. A fucking HUGE mistake. I couldn't get it to work for shit.

Oh, and happy Christmas. I spent time over the holidays writing a huge, awesome Dramione oneshot as a Christmas gift for you all, that consequently helped clear the cobwebs out of my head. Go find it on my page, it's called 'In Private'.

So, time passed, I got my laptop repaired, and I wrestled this beast of a chapter into submission. But a lot of time passed. Sorry folks. This was a hard chapter – and before you wonder why, since it seems fairly blasé and simplistic, please understand there were key pieces I had to put into play for things to continue as they must. This story is infinitely more complicated than it looks. Also, Chapter 31 is halfway written, and Chapter 32 is as well. So, I am working on them both immediately.

Phnxgirl had to read I think five different versions of this chapter before I posted, so, besides my abject apologies, one thousand cheers to her for her patience and encouragement. And thanks to all of you who checked in on me. I sincerely appreciate it.

acro