Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
A/N: If Dramione isn't your cup of tea, just don't read it.
Every Time Like the First
The one thing Hermione could honestly say she regretted, after all these years of marriage, was that she hadn't been able to give her virginity to her husband. She'd given in to Ron's demands, buckled under the pressure. Her husband said he didn't mind, and she knew he didn't. He certainly hadn't been a virgin when they'd married, but despite his reputation, and the fact that she'd had sex before as well, he had never pressured her to move faster than she wanted.
So, though they'd certainly enjoyed pressing the boundaries, they hadn't actually consummated their relationship until their wedding night. She loved how patient he was – and still is – with her, how he took his time to make sure that she knew she was – and still is – loved. She'd been so nervous, because, especially compared to him, she was a novice. When she'd voiced this concern, he'd smiled fondly and laughed, assuring her that everything would be perfect. He was right. When he touched her, caressed her, kissed her, loved her, she could tell that no other man would ever be able to elicit such responses from her, that no other woman could please him the way she did.
"What are you thinking about, Love?"
Her husband's voice reached her ears a second before his arms wrapped around her waist, causing her to melt back into his chest. His lips briefly touched her neck, causing her breath to hitch. She felt his smile against her shoulder, and an answering smile graced her face.
"I was thinking about us," she confided. "How perfect we are for each other."
He squeezed her middle tenderly before he turned her face so she could see the wicked smirk on his face. "We are certainly perfectly compatible."
One thing Hermione would never understand was how he could still make her blush after all this time. Recovering quickly, she returned his smirk with one of her own, and rejoiced as his mouth found hers. As he lifted her into his strong arms and carried her from the library to their bedroom, Hermione felt the desire well up within her as it had all those years ago.
Hours later, they lay tangled together beneath their sheets, Hermione's head tucked into the crook of his neck, and his hand lazily stroking her hair; she couldn't imagine a better life, or a better man. There were many things in her life she had always wished she could do differently, and one thing she would always regret.
The one thing Hermione would never regret was falling in love with her husband, because every time with Draco felt just as new, just as amazing, as the first time.