Hermione raced across the tiny living room and knelt by the side of her unconscious husband. "Harry," she said raggedly, as she checked for a pulse. "He's still breathing, oh thank Merlin."

"What the hell was that Hermione?" Harry ran his hands through his hair, rooted to the spot.

"I don't know," Hermione whimpered, as her eyes flooded over with tears.

"It was an accident?" Harry asked in shock. "Aren't you a bit too old for accidental magic?"

"Stop quizzing me and bring him back to consciousness," Hermione snapped, bordering on frantic, as she tried to rouse Draco.

Within two strides Harry was by her side. "Sorry," he said gently. He pointed his wand at Draco, "Enervate."

Draco stirred feebly and tried to sit up, before falling back to the ground. His usually pale complexion had taken on a sickening ashen look, and as he flopped listlessly on the tent floor, he looked not unlike a corpse. Harry tried to revive him again, but his second attempt was just as futile as the first. Each attempt to revive him worked for a few seconds, until Draco collapsed back into unconsciousness, his breathing laboured and his pulse worryingly weak.

"He needs something to replenish him," Harry said quietly, as he knelt by his former arch-enemy's side. "He's too weak."

Hermione was up in a trice, and she swiftly retrieved her garter from the kitchen table. She carefully felt around the tiny pockets until she extricated a miniscule vial of powder and an unusually large pewter mug that automatically expanded on removal. She held out the vial to Harry with shaking hands, who complied with her unspoken request and enlarged it. Hermione swiftly emptied the vial into a plain mesh infuser and set about procuring hot water from the magical kettle.

Harry kept his curiosity at bay, knowing that Hermione worked best in silence, until he couldn't hold back any longer. "What is that?"

"Last year I did some experimentation with potions," Hermione said, as she poured boiling water into the pewter mug. "I noticed that the Wizarding world doesn't have anything to replace pills. Potions are effective but most of them have a very narrow shelf life, unlike pills, so I tried to come up with an alternative. I used the dregs of different potions to come up with a powder that, when mixed with boiling water, makes the potion it was retrieved from."

"Hermione, that's just…" Harry trailed off, shaking his head at his best friend's brilliance. "So you just add boiling water and mix?"

"Not quite," Hermione gave him a shaky smile. "I had to do a lot of calculations to work out just how much powder and water was needed, which is why I have the cup. It's pewter, just like most cauldrons are, and it automatically enlarges to exactly one-fifteenth the size of the standard cauldron. The powder goes in the infuser and it needs to be stirred the way the potion would be if it were being prepared normally. For example, I'm making a simple Replenishing potion, so I will have to stir the infuser three times clockwise and then twice anti-clockwise, just like I would've if I was making the potion from scratch."

"Is it as effective?" Harry asked, as he Levitated Draco onto the couch, earning a grateful smile from Hermione.

"Yes, so long as I follow my calculations exactly," she said, as she began stirring the boiling water using the string of the infuser.

Harry shook his head again. "How do you come up with these things?"

"I have a tendency to prepare for the worst I guess," Hermione gave him a rueful smile. "It never hurts to be prepared for things to go wrong. I didn't want us to be stuck somewhere without viable potions, and it would be too much of a bother to keep restocking my emergency supplies."

"He'll be fine," Harry assured gently, as he watched Hermione's hand's shake, making the infuser look disturbingly as though it was having a small seizure. "We'll give him the potion and try to revive him again."

Hermione's eyes swilled over with tears again. "I really hope so Harry," she said earnestly. "I don't know what happened back there. I've never had a burst of accidental magic like that before."

"Never?" Harry was shocked. Accidental magic was a part and parcel of all magical children and adolescents' lives.

"Never," Hermione confirmed over spirals of steam. "Even as a child, all my magic was controlled. I could do things if I wanted to, but even when I was really mad I never lost control over myself like this." She pulled out the infuser and carefully carried the pewter mug over to the couch. Harry could see that the potion had turned the correct turquoise colour, and he exhaled quietly with relief.

Hermione tenderly lifted Draco's head and with Harry's help, forced him into a sitting position. He helpfully passed her a transfigured spoon and watched as she painstakingly fed her husband the potion. Harry was forcibly reminded of the way Hermione had tended to Ron when he had splinched himself during the Horcrux hunt. He sighed indistinctly at how far they'd come from those times. Even though they'd had the horror of a war thrust upon them far too young, at least he had taken his relationships for granted. These days, it felt almost as though his and Ginny's relationship was the only constant left. While he was fervently happy that Ron and Lavender appeared to be so blissful together, he couldn't help wishing that Ron and Hermione had stayed together. They could've all truly been family then, their kids would've been cousins and they would've had enviously utopic lives.

"Try revive him now, Harry," Hermione broke into his thoughts, as she placed the empty cup back on to the coffee table.

Harry was quick to comply. "Enervate."

Draco stirred again, and this time he managed to stay conscious for more than a few seconds. He forced himself into a more comfortable position. "Why do I feel as though I just got hit by the Hogwarts' Express?"

Before anyone could answer him, Hermione had thrown herself at her husband and had enveloped him in what looked like a rib-crushing hug. Draco looked at Harry in bewilderment as he cautiously reached out and patted some of Hermione's curls, while she sobbed into his neck. Draco's expression of discomfort sent Harry over the edge, and he found himself almost doubled over in laughter.

"What's so funny Potter?" Draco scowled, as he tried to disengage himself from the vice grip of his wife's arms. He could feel trails of her tears run down his chest, and it was most unpleasant. He fervently hoped that there wasn't any snot in the wet patch that was rapidly developing on his left shoulder.

"Your face," Harry managed, between fits of laughter. "You look as though Voldemort just hugged you."

Draco flinched. "Well excuse me for being cautious, the last thing I remember is her attacking me, and now it seems her new plan of killing me involves strangling me to death by hugs." Bipolar bitch.

Hermione immediately jumped off Draco's lap and wiped her eyes. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened, I've never lost control over my magic before. Did I hug you too hard?"

"I may have a few broken ribs," Draco teased. "Perhaps I should take off my shirt so you can inspect?"

"No!" exclaimed Harry, springing off the couch and backing away from Draco. "I'd rather live without being subjected to that twice in one day."

"That offer was for Granger's eyes alone Potter," drawled Draco, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I know I'm devastatingly handsome but please, control yourself."

Harry flushed. "You were the one that was excited when we were bound together."

"Excited? What?" Hermione interjected.

"Nothing," supplied Draco quickly, as he shot Harry a glare. "Potter was joking."

"Embarrassed are we?" Harry grinned wickedly. "I know I'm devastatingly handsome but please, control your excitement next time."

"There will be no next time!" Draco spat, as his face flushed.

"Are you both done flirting?" Hermione interrupted, as she placed pillows behind Draco's head.

"We're not flirting!" Harry and Draco exclaimed together.

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Right. Well I was thinking, now that Draco is conscious and back to his charming self, maybe we should have a small celebration tonight."

"Sure, I'll get the streamers and the music ready," said Draco sarcastically. "We can partake of some more delicious stew and get drunk off some hot chocolate."

"I was thinking we could have a bonfire actually," Hermione said calmly.

"That actually sounds kind of all right," smiled Harry.

Hermione smiled back as she reached into her garter and pulled out a miniscule plastic bag filled with tiny white pellets and a small bottle. She picked up Harry's wand from the coffee table and enlarged the packet, revealing it to be filled with soft sugary blobs that made Harry's mouth water as soon as he saw them.

"Marshmallows?" he asked in disbelief.

"I thought we could toast them over the bonfire, and I also have this," Hermione enlarged the miniature bottle.

"Firewhiskey?" Draco gaped at her like he couldn't believe his eyes. "You thought to pack alcohol? I think I dismissed you as a goodie-two-shoes far too soon."

Hermione bit her lip. "It has warming properties that would be useful in the case of hypothermia," she said defensively.

Harry snickered. "Of course," he said, nodding solemnly. "I foretell we will get cold tonight and suddenly require it."

"I thought it might be fun to have a couple of drinks," mumbled Hermione, flushing.

"I never thought I would be this happy to see a bottle of alcohol," said Draco with a hungry gleam in his eyes. "I think I love you."

This time Harry held back his laughter as Hermione and Draco both went comical shades of red and resolutely looked away from each other. Who would've known that being third wheel to the world's most awkward couple could actually be fun? Harry couldn't wait to implement some of Ginny's matchmaking ideas for the wayward couple. They really had no idea what they were walking into. It was time to show Draco Malfoy that Gryffindors were nowhere near as chivalrous as he thought. Harry restrained the urge to cackle.

"Never have I ever dated a redhead," Draco said smugly, as Harry and Hermione groaned.

"Now that's just not fair," Hermione protested.

Harry chimed in. "Besides, you already got us with 'never have I ever dated a Weasley'."

"I believe the rules of this game are to get the other parties as intoxicated as possible," reminded Draco, with a smirk. "Considering I'm playing with two Gryffindors, I figured I should play by the rules."

"How kind," said Hermione dryly. "My turn. Never have I ever been a Seeker."

Harry and Draco clinked glasses and drank, both struggling to keep a straight face at the thought of Hermione on a broom, playing Quidditch.

"Never have I ever had a tail," grinned Harry. He had purposely been picking truths all night that highlighted just how much Hermione and Draco had in common. It was executed seamlessly, under the guise of trying to 'win' the game. He idly wondered how much longer he could push their buttons before they started working together to take him out. Ginny would be proud.

Draco shot him a look of pure loathing. "Thanks, Potter." To his surprise, however, Hermione had gone red and was taking a sip of her drink. "Wait a second, you got turned into an animal?"

"This isn't Truth or Dare," Hermione shot back, her cheeks positively scarlet. "I don't have to elaborate."

"But I can," reminded Harry, with a shockingly Malfoy-like smirk. "Hermione botched up a potion and got turned into a cat."

"I would like to remind you Harry that my potion was perfect," said Hermione frostily. "I botched up the hair. Instead of human hair, I added cat hair."

"How could you possibly botch that up?" Draco asked incredulously. "Human and cat hair look nothing alike."

"I was thirteen, can we just forget about this?" Hermione snapped.

Draco obliged. "I believe it is my turn again, never have I ever had sex in a public place."

Harry and Hermione both blushed, before taking a sip of their drinks.

"Seriously? Even you Granger?" Draco asked in surprise. "I was hoping to target Potter."

"I'm surprised you haven't," Hermione shot back, as she ducked her head to hide her flaming cheeks.

He shrugged. "It never came up."

"Maybe you'll have a chance to change that soon," Harry waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"I really hope that's not an invitation Potter," Draco said, his face a moue of distaste.

Harry sputtered on his Firewhiskey. "I was referring to Hermione, Malfoy, get your mind out of the gutter."

"You get your mind out of the gutter Harry," Hermione seethed. "And stop talking about my sex life this instant. Both of you."

Harry capitulated. Hermione's wrath was a malevolent force that made grown men quake in their boots. If Voldemort had ever seen Hermione in a temper, he would've immediately abandoned all attempts to kill him. Harry could vividly see Hermione yelling at a cowering Voldemort about elf rights and the inhumanity of murder. Harry chuckled, perhaps I have had a bit much to drink.

"Harry?" Hermione prompted, reminding him that it was his turn.

"Never have I ever watched television for more then three hours straight," said Harry, picking the first thing that came to his mind. To his shock, both Hermione and Draco sipped their drinks.

"You know what a television is?" Hermione turned to her husband in surprise.

"I can like something muggle you know," he said defensively.

"I bet you can," Harry snickered, with a pointed look at Hermione.

"My turn," said Draco rapidly, changing the subject. "Never have I ever had exclusively been involved with Quidditch players."

Harry laughed. "Drink up Hermione," he taunted, as he started ticking off on his fingers, "Krum, McLaggen, Ron…"

Hermione made a face. "I think it covers you too, Harry, Cho and Ginny were both Quidditch players too."

"You know," Harry mused. "I never realised that. I never thought of myself as having a type, but I really do go for the Quidditch players don't I?"

"Is Malfoy next on your list?" Hermione teased.

Harry and Draco both winced. "Never," they said in unison.

"This whole unison thing is really freaky," Hermione commented. "It also doesn't help your cause."

"Speaking of unison," Harry started, forcing himself to look like a neutral observer. "You and Malfoy have been quite in sync lately. You both regularly have similar expressions and mirror each other's actions."

His proclamation was met with two stubbornly indignant expressions that were hastily rearranged when the newlyweds exchanged a glance. Harry bit down on his lip as hard as he could to stop himself from grinning as Hermione and Draco looked away from each other, each trying to force their face into a blank mask. Obstinate idiots.

"You're nutters, Potter." Draco declared, shaking his head in disbelief.

Hermione stopped herself from shaking her head along with her husband.

Harry shrugged, biting back a triumphant grin. "Say what you will, it's true."

They continued to play fiercely, until Harry declared himself defeated. As he had suspected, Hermione and Draco had soon collaborated to take him out. Between Hermione's extensive knowledge of his past and Draco's Slytherin cunning, Harry's vision was currently impaired by multiple versions of every object he saw. Hermione and Draco had openly toasted to their success while Harry had privately toasted to his own: the ice between the newlyweds after their argument had been broken. Eventually, a companionable silence fell, each of them lost in their own thoughts as they watched the elegant twisting of the flames in front of them.

"I miss Juls," Draco said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Hermione exhaled. "Me too," she agreed softly. "What do you suppose he's doing?"

"Sleeping, I hope," said Draco with a slight chuckle. "Or he'd be driving mother up the walls."

"Maybe he's with Teddy," Harry said, forcing himself to sound cheerful as he thought of his godson. "I really hope Teddy and Juls aren't missing us too much."

"We'll make it up to them," said Hermione resolutely. "We'll do something really nice with them when we're back."

Draco smirked. "We could take them shopping for toy brooms."

"No!" Hermione exclaimed. "I don't think I could take the heart attacks that are sure to follow from seeing them up in the air like that."

"Hermione, those brooms barely go up three feet," Harry said exasperatedly. "Sirius got me one when I was little, and apparently I knocked over a really ugly vase that aunt Petunia sent my mother."

"We do have a shocking amount of ugly things at the Manor," Draco grinned fleetingly, and winked at Hermione. "Think about it Granger, we could finally get rid of that revolting statue in the living room."

Hermione pursed her lips reproachfully. "Your mother loves that statue."

"But it's an eyesore," Draco protested.

"So are you, you don't see me flying into you with a broom," Hermione retorted.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Touché. Besides, I'm devastatingly handsome, even Potter thinks so."

Harry groaned. "Why am I being dragged into this? I'm beginning to think you do like me Malfoy."

"Better watch out," Hermione giggled. "Ginny does a mean Bat-Bogey hex."

"I remember," said Draco darkly.

The reminder that the three of them had not always been on pleasant terms cracked through the air like an Unforgivable. Hermione shifted uneasily, things had changed so much between them, yet so much from those days was left unsaid. A quick glance at Harry's troubled expression informed her that he was thinking of the same thing.

"Malfoy," Harry ran a hand through his hair, before steeling himself to finish his sentence. "I never did apologise for that day, you know, in Myrtle's bathroom."

Draco stiffened momentarily, and then relaxed. "Thank you, it's only seemly that I should apologise too. I wasn't exactly playing fair."

"I almost killed you, but honestly I didn't know what the spell did," Harry said earnestly.

"It was my fault too, I almost used an Unforgivable on you," Draco reminded.

Harry checked himself at the reminder. "Did you really hate me that much?"

"How would you feel if someone walked in on you during one of your weakest moments?" Draco's face darkened at the bitter memory. "Especially someone who was your arch nemesis?"

"I would hate it," Harry agreed vehemently. "I was upset enough when Ron and Hermione witnessed my bad moments."

Draco played with the blades of grass at his feet. "I don't aim to injure unprovoked Potter, it was easy to channel all my hate against my circumstances onto you, but no I never truly hated you. Not to that extent in any case. I hated the position I was in, and you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I think it's safe to say," Hermione started, in a no-nonsense tone. "That we were all under a lot of pressure. We were all put in situations that we were too young and too unprepared to deal with. Malfoy wasn't the only one that did things that he regrets, and I'm sure that if we had the luxury of making decisions with the pressure off, we would all have done things very differently," she broke off and gave a prim smile. "Besides, it's not like we conducted manic dances around bonfires which were fuelled by flammable effigies with pale blonde hair…"

"…Much," Harry finished sotto voce, with a teasing grin. The three of them laughed.

"Do you think we can all truly forgive?" Draco asked, his eyes blazing.

Hermione considered the meaning behind his words, and then nodded. "Yes."

Draco subtly inclined his head, his hair falling in front of his eyes, momentarily hiding their intensity. "Thank you."

Harry rose, sensing that the newlyweds should take the opportunity to sort things out privately. "I'm going to bed."

"Will you be alright?" Hermione asked at once.

"I'll be fine, Hermione," said Harry firmly.

"Are you sure?" Hermione persisted. "I could sit with you until you sleep."

Harry found himself half exasperated at her perseverance, and half touched at how deeply she cared. "I will be fine," he repeated, and waved her off.

"Should I make you some hot chocolate?" Hermione asked, unconvinced.

"Really Granger, if you mother him anymore you will have to wrap him in swaddling clothes and sing him to sleep," Draco drawled, saving Harry the trouble of pointing out to Hermione that he could handle the preparation of a hot beverage all by himself.

Hermione bit her lip, but acquiesced. "Goodnight Harry."

"Goodnight Hermione, Malfoy," Harry nodded politely and retreated to the privacy of the tent.

Draco surveyed Hermione with a hint of apprehension. They hadn't been truly alone since their argument two nights ago, and from past experience, alcohol and sexual tension tended to give birth to intimacy. It was all he could do to bite back an audible groan at the thought of exploring his carnal desires with his wife.

"Shall I refill your glass?" Hermione asked pleasantly, her brain sufficiently alcohol infused to surpass any awkwardness.

"That would be nice," Draco replied, equally affably.

He watched her familiar movements as she refilled their glasses. He knew all of her little quirks by now, the way she elegantly twisted a bottle when she was done pouring to prevent a dribble, the way she always automatically cast a low, non-verbal lumos after every spell to prevent any malicious intents of a Priori Incantem, the way she always scanned a room as soon as she entered it to assess for threats. In anyone else he would've found the paranoia irritating, but with her it made him feel secure. Draco stiffened as he remembered a lingering question he had been forgetting to ask her surfaced.

"You're always so cautious, Granger," he started, as he accepted his glass. "I'm surprised you almost drank the de-aging potion."

Hermione looked at him in surprise. "I didn't think it could be anything dangerous, considering I non-verbally checked the wine for poisons. I never thought to check for a de-aging potion."

"I wasn't being accusatory," Draco assured her. "I was just curious."

"I thought it might be from your father," Hermione said cautiously.

Draco's eyes darkened with rage. "My father?" he spat angrily. "Why would that coward be sending anyone wine?"

"Lucius did a lot of terrible things," agreed Hermione, putting a placating hand over Draco's shoulder. "But he does love your mother, and she does love him. I would be very surprised if they did not correspond."

In spite of the denial that was on his lips, Draco's mind unwillingly replayed to him the many times he had caught his mother writing when she thought no one was watching. He remembered the secret half-smile that always played across his mother's lips as she bent her golden head over her parchments, and he remembered her reluctance to admit the fact that she was writing letters at all.

"If it had been… father," Draco fumbled over the word. "I would trust the wine even less."

"Everything he could've sent her from Azkaban would've been checked thoroughly, and even if he had asked someone else to, the guards read his mail so they would've ensured it wasn't dangerous," said Hermione placidly.

Draco fell silent at the logical response, and it was then that he realised that Hermione's hand was still on his shoulder. Sometime during their conversation, she had shifted so that she was right next to him, close enough to touch… Draco shook his head firmly in a vain attempt to dispel the direction his thoughts were taking. The next time we kiss it will be without the influence of alcohol, he swore to himself, I want her to come to me with no excuse to blame but her own desire.

They finished their drinks in silence and put out the fire. There was an awkward moment where Draco thought that Hermione would suggest that she keep guard, but the alcohol had loosened whatever inhibitions she might've had that prevented her from sharing his bed. The second Hermione's head hit her inadequate pillows, she was sound asleep. Draco smiled to himself as he got into bed. Hermione Granger did not sleep like a normal person, oh no. There was a significant amount of limb tucking, pillow molestation and contortionist positions being assumed before her highness was comfortable. She was amazingly flexible when she wanted to be. He bit back an audible groan, and wished for the umpteenth time that he could have something racier to refer to when he thought about his wife's flexibility in the bedroom than the way she slept.

The next morning found the three of them hopelessly hungover and completely out of sorts. Hermione had spent most of the morning snapping at Draco and Harry, who interrupted her reading by daring to play a boisterous game of Exploding Snap. Lunch had been a terse affair since none of them had any appetite for the stew, despite the two freshwater salmon Harry and Draco had managed to catch. The unceasing waiting for a Portkey had been weighing heavily on their minds, and had left them all in unusually irate moods. At tea time, Harry had finally roused himself from the quiet, almost vegetative state he had been in since lunch.

"Tea or hot chocolate anyone?" he asked, forcing the melancholy away from his voice.

Draco lifted his head from the vividly patterned rug he had thrown himself on face-down. "Tea please," he rasped.

"Hermione?" Harry ventured.

"What, Harry?" Hermione snapped, as she looked up from her research on wands.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and raised his hands defensively. "I was just asking if you wanted tea, next time I won't bother."

"Oh sorry," said Hermione sheepishly. "Tea, two sugars please," she added meekly.

Draco managed to rouse himself the second the fragrance of the tea hit his nostrils. Both he and Harry found their moods improve significantly after their partaking of the soothing beverage, Hermione however, continued with her sullen experimentation. It was only subsequent to an unsatisfactory dinner of stew that Hermione managed a breakthrough. She had finally managed to cast a full level lumos without passing out, and after a few tries managed to sustain the spell. Once she attained some level of control, she found it easier and easier to channel her magic through the ancient wooden table-leg. After an hour of successfully casting several low-grade spells, she forced Draco and Harry to experiment with her makeshift wand, much to their mutual chagrin.

"I can't do it, just let it be," Harry whined petulantly after his sixth failed attempt to produce any kind of magic from the wand.

Hermione was persistent. "You're just not trying hard enough Harry, and neither are you Malfoy. It's like Hogwarts all over again."

"I'm surprised you stayed the Boy Who Lived in the prolonged presence of Girl Who Makes Me Want To Die," Draco muttered in undertone to Harry, who grinned and nodded.

"Apply yourself, do the swish and flick," continued Hermione bossily. "Come on Harry, Wingardium Leviosa."

Nothing.

Harry swore under his breath and wondered if he should non-verbally stun Hermione with his actual wand. He shuddered slightly over the thought of her fury being unleashed on him as soon as she woke up. No, perhaps it was best that she stayed the way she was, as annoying as it might be, at least she was stable.

"Let Malfoy try," said Hermione, her brown eyes filled with disappointment.

Harry gleefully tried to hand the mutilated table leg to Draco, who shook his head and rose to his feet. "I feel like I need a walk by the brook to up my energy," he said, looking at Harry meaningfully.

Before Harry could respond, Hermione piped up. "Ooh that sounds wonderful actually, I might join you."

"Go," said Harry, feeling almost giddy with relief.

"Shall we, Mrs Malfoy?" Draco held out his arm to her and winked, feeling tingles of anticipation run up and down his spine.

Hermione cocked her head coquettishly. "By all means good sir, take me where you will."

The witch is going to be the death of me.

As they walked to the brook, Draco noticed that Hermione was in an unusually good mood, the sort that came from feeling particularly productive. The last time she had been this happy had been after she finished a particularly tiresome bill on the copulation regulations for magical creatures, and she had proceeded to curl up in his lap with a goblet of Butterbeer. Draco made a mental note to work out the specifics of the productivity/sex life ratio as soon as he had a chance. Hermione sashayed slightly ahead of him, looking pleasantly exotic in her long flowing black-and-white patterned skirt that hung low over her hipbones, and a white blouse held up by the thinnest straps he had ever seen. The blouse clung to her curves like a second skin and left several inches of tanned midriff on display, while the lantern she carried swung hypnotically by her side.

"Slow down Granger," Draco called, as Hermione picked up her pace.

She threw him a look so seductive that it nearly made him combust. "Not enjoying the view?" she arched a delicate eyebrow with the security of a woman that knows her allure.

Draco blinked at this sudden show of self-confidence.

"Why are you in such a good mood?" he blurted, suspiciously.

"I think it's the air," said Hermione seriously, as she tilted her head upwards, exposing the slender column of her throat. "There's a certain crisp magic in the air tonight, don't you feel it?"

At that minute Draco was incapable of focusing on any magic except for the sort that was rapidly tenting his pajama bottoms. He swallowed at the beautiful interplay of light dancing across her cheekbones, the slight upward tilt of her nose, and the hollow at her throat. "There's definitely something magical."

"Come," Hermione softened the imperious word by offering him a small palm. Draco hesitated for a split second before interlinking his fingers with hers. There was a certain intimacy in walking along the brook hand-clasped that reminded them that they were newlyweds after all. The air was thick with the sultry scents of the forest, and the full moon hung unusually low in the sky colouring the rivulets of the brook with silver. Hermione and Draco sat down on the low branches of a sprawling oak, as she lifted the hem of her voluminous skirt to curl her toes against the cool flow of the shimmering water.

"This reminds me of our wedding night," Hermione broke the silence, as she leaned back against the trunk of the tree and closed her eyes.

"Me too," Draco agreed quietly. "The moon, the Portkey, the water…"

She shifted so that she could lean her head against her husband's shoulder. "And the serenity," she added, basking in the moonlight.

"We never did have a first dance you know," the words were out of Draco's mouth before he could second-guess them.

Hermione looked up at him with a lingering smile, "I didn't realise you were this traditional."

"There is a lot we both need to learn about each other," Draco gave her a genuine smile. He stepped off the low branch and muttered a quick spell that caused the air to be thick with sweet, poignant notes from his wand. He placed the wand carefully at the roots of the oak and wordlessly offered her his hand. Hermione surveyed him for a second, her eyes filled with surprise, before she allowed him to help her to her feet.

The tingles returned to his spine as soon as she allowed him to sweep her into his arms. Unlike the formal Wizarding dances, they simply pressed their bodies close and swayed gently to the music. The shallow waters of the brook bubbled around their feet, seeping through the hem of Hermione's skirts. She looked up at Draco from the circle of his arms, watching the moonlight sparkle off the earring he always wore. Not unlike her wedding day, she was filled with a rush of emotion at the many different sides to the wizard she had married. The usual cold, aristocratic distance that Draco maintained had shattered to reveal the sensitive subtleties of his character. Emboldened by her pleasing scrutiny, Draco buried his head in the soft curls around her neck, breathing in the heady scent of vanilla as he nuzzled her neck. Hermione was right, the air was crisp with the old magic of romance.

"I– I– think we should take it slow," Hermione stammered, breaking the spell.

Draco bit back a hiss of irritation. "If you want," he managed to say, evenly.

"Thank you," Hermione said sincerely, as she relaxed in his arms and pressed herself even closer to him.

Evil seductive witch.

The song drew to a close, and the wand fell quiet. "I believe now is when I scoop you into my arms and whisk you away," smirked Draco.

Hermione drew back. "That's not necessary," she said, her voice higher than usual.

Draco stepped closer. "I think we've already established that I am a traditionalist."

Before she could protest, Draco had swept her into his arms. He carried her back to the low branch they had been sitting on, and laid her down on it. Her curls fell over the edge of the branch, the ends lightly brushing the water of the brook, while her skirts splayed out, half over the branches and half rapidly soaking up the water.

"Traditionally now is when we would have been showered with rose petals," Draco murmured huskily, as he retrieved his wand and muttered a quick spell that caused the branches above them to sprout fat white roses, allowing them to fill the air with their heady, seductive scent. They were charmed to drop a heavy petal every two seconds, and sure enough, within a minute there was a steady shower of cool, fragrant petals over their trembling bodies.

"Malfoy, I–" Hermione finally found her voice.

Draco placed a finger over her lips. "I remember, don't worry, I promise not to touch you."

He leaned over her, careful to keep his word, and placed the lantern on a rock by their feet. The flickering light of the lantern dulled to a soft glow, gold flames mixing with the silvery moonbeams. Draco reached above them and plucked a fat white rose, enjoying the way Hermione's eyes widened with desire and curiosity. Then, gently, he ran the rose over the contours of her face, memorising the sharp war-induced angles. The rose felt cool against Hermione's hot skin, as she closed her eyes and arched her back slightly, leaning into his ministrations. She felt a deep burn start from the recesses of her body and spread down to the soles of her feet as she languorously curled her toes in pleasure. True to his word, Draco didn't touch her; instead he conducted his exploration of her body through the rose, running it up her bare arms, twirling it agonisingly slowly at the hollow of her throat, teasing her collarbones.

Hermione's breath hitched in her throat as he circled her breasts with the flower. Even through the flimsy layer of cotton between them, she felt her nipples pebble at the attention. The cool flower ignited fires as it trailed down her exposed stomach, while the shower of fragrant petals felt like sparks against her fevered skin. She moaned as Draco slowly pushed her skirt back, exposing her slim legs to the wondrous touch of the rose. Then, just as he had reached her thighs, he ran the flower along one scorching heel, slowly trailing it over the arches of her foot.

"Draco," Hermione breathed, as she arched again. "Please."

"Please, what?" Draco whispered, his voice like velvet against her earlobe.

The rose was once again trailing up her thighs. "I– just– please–" Hermione mumbled incoherently against the silky strands of his hair.

"I've kept my word, love," Draco purred softly against the inside of her jaw. "I'm not touching you."

"I know," Hermione groaned in frustration, as the rose circled the sensitive bundle of nerves mercifully covered by her silky underwear.

Draco brushed the rose along her other thigh languidly. "Do you want me to touch you?" he asked, as Hermione felt a jolt of fire run through her at his words.

"Yes please," she moaned, as the rose trailed up the underside of her arms. "Please, touch me."

He nearly came undone, his resolve breaking at her words. Draco leaned over her, committing the pleasing hitch of her breath to his memory. Hermione arched up again, eager for contact, but Draco brushed past her to retrieve the lantern.

"I made a promise," Draco smirked, as her eyes flew open.

Hermione made a strangled sound, her voice lost somewhere between indignation and arousal. "Cad."

"Hussy," Draco returned, easily.

He slowly uncoiled himself and swung his feet back to the grassy forest floor, now thick with a carpet of petals. Hermione sighed audibly as she regretfully untangled her skirts and hair from the branches. She lowered herself to the ground in a shower of fragrant petals, allowing their coolness to soothe the burn in her feet.

A/n: I'm back! Sorry for the absence, my muses decided to up and flee away. Thanks to everyone for your reviews, I was seriously re-reading them every day to keep myself motivated. Thank you also for the alerts and favourites. I know this chapter didn't have any other perspectives, but I felt that it was important to show the development of the relationship between Harry and Draco and Draco and Hermione. I know a few of you are eager to see Draco and Hermione get it on, but I'm trying to keep as true to Hermione's character as I can, and she wouldn't just hop into bed with someone she hated her whole life. As always, I would love to hear about parts any of you particularly enjoyed in your reviews. Thank you for reading! :)