Chapter 1 : Spitting Games
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Than push my limbs out toward you right there.
My heart is bursting in your perfect eyes,
As blue as oceans and as pure as skies.
I’ve always hated first dates.
I smile, casting my gaze to Draco, who is standing rather close to me, arms crossed, and clearly uncomfortable. After the war, and after everything had finally settled, three years after Ron and I split up, and here I was, on a date with the Draco Malfoy. We’d started seeing each other around Diagon Alley, the Ministry, London, and other such places, and it only became common place to nod hello, then wave, then actually speak, and, before long, we were making each other late for work, catching breakfast, chatting, and, then, we kissed.
The first time we kissed was something like magic. Corny, I know, but it really was incredible. I remember the first time I cast a spell, I never thought I’d be the same again. The first time Draco and I kissed, I felt like I was floating and like I would never come down again. It was simply beautiful.
After that first time, backed into a wall in some bookstore he’d spotted me in, we started seeing each other more regularly and on purpose. We went out to breakfast every morning, went to parks or little cafes every afternoon during my lunch break, and he always walked me back to my flat after we both got out of work.
Soon, it was obvious that these little routines were not enough, and then, all of a sudden, we were spending nights at each other’s houses and getting together on the weekends. It was Draco that first brought up the idea of a first date. He wanted to do something proper, something right. And so I made the plans, and they led us to a wonderful Muggle restaurant in the heart of London.
“Stop fidgeting,” I laugh, smiling as he slips his fingers in between mine.
“I don’t go to these places,” he mutters, shrugging, “They make me feel weird.”
“It’s just a regular restaurant, Draco; it just has Muggles instead of wizards serving us.”
“Okay,” he sighs, rolling his eyes and placing a kiss on my bare shoulder.
It’s fancy enough so that I’m wearing a dress and he’s in a nice shirt and dress pants, and I love every bit of us, how formal and classy we look, how amazing it feels to be standing next to this gorgeous man.
“Granger, table for two!” a voice suddenly shouts, and I pull Draco off, laughing when he mutters under his breath about weird customs.
“They’re the same customs, essentially, as us. Shut up,” I reprimand, stopping before the waiter.
“Right this way,” he says with a nod of his head before leading us off.
We follow him around the restaurant before he stops at a booth, and Draco and I slide in opposite each other.
“Just calm down, okay?” I laugh as the waiter sets down our menus, smiles, takes our drink orders, and leaves.
“It’s just weird. I’m sorry. I know. I’m being ridiculous.”
We fall into silence as we look through the menus, and, as I’ve been here a few times before, I easily navigate my way around, pick out what I want, and then sip on my drink.
Back in school, I always found Draco attractive. Of course, there was that very enormous part of me that despised him, but, in the darkest dredges of my heart, I knew that I felt a certain pull to him. I remember the day that we were brought to the Malfoy Manor while we were looking for the Horcruxes and how desperately I wanted to go to him and pull him against me, to whisper that everything was going to be okay and he didn’t have to do this. I remember watching him look back at me and feeling that pull and knowing that we would be alright, that he wouldn’t turn us in. And he didn’t.
“What are you thinking about?” he pulls me from my reverie, and I just smile.
“You,” I answer simply, and he beams before looking back down at his menu.
Years after, when I was sending Rose and Hugo to school and we saw Draco, my heart beat a little quicker and I almost walked over to him, with no idea of what I was doing and simply because I wanted to be in his presence. I’ll always remember the day Ron came home smirking, gossiping about how he and Astoria had split up. I couldn’t help but smile at this news, and only the very deep-rooted attraction for me admitted that it was because now I still had a chance.
I blink, focusing on the present, and he’s smiling over at me, a curious and humorous smile.
“Still thinking about me?” he jokes, and I just roll my eyes.
“Yes and no,” I say, sticking my tongue out, “Like it matters. What are you getting?”
He pouts, and I laugh out loud.
“Help me,” he mumbles sadly, and so I open my menu, listing off suggestions as I go.
He’s quick to keep up, and, soon, we’ve got him situated. The rest of the night progresses as such, with much laughter and chatter. And, when we finally leave, two hours later, he’s holding me close, and kissing different parts of my neck.
“Wanna come back to my place?” he purrs against my skin, and I practically melt in his arms.
“Only if you promise not to return me until Monday,” I whisper, and he apparates without another word
Three years later.
“Harry!” Ginny shrieks, and I look up from her kitchen table.
She’s just walked in from collecting the mail. She sits across from me, and I smirk as I see the white envelope in my hand.
“Harry!” she yells louder, rolling her eyes as a thud is heard from upstairs.
“Be right there!” he shouts, and, after a few minutes, Harry comes running downstairs much to the displeasure of his boys yelling for him to come back.
“What’re you doing with them?” she demands, eyes narrowed as she slices open a letter from Bill.
“Teaching them horrible things,” Harry retorts, making a face at her before he stops at her shoulder, “What’re you hollering about?”
He leans down to kiss her on the cheek, and her eyes light up, a smile gracing her face. I’ve always loved to watch them, to see how much they adore each other and how they continue to grow each day.
“Conspicuous letter,” she says, flashing the white envelope, “Wanna open it?”
He jumps at the surprise waiting inside, and instantly sitting haphazardly on the table, though he’s mostly just leaning on it. He slips a finger under the flap, lifts it open, and pulls the letter out. He drops it seconds later, wide eyes turning on me.
“Hermione!” he exclaims, mouth agape.
Startled, Ginny picks up the letter, reads it over four times, and then shakes her head.
“I don’t understand,” she says, aghast.
I just shrug and smile and then Ginny smiles because she understands.
“You really love him, don’t you?”
I just nod, and there’s already tears in my eyes.
“Oh, Hermione, I’m so excited for you!”
She gets up to hug me, and I cry tears of joy as Harry smiles over at me.
You are cordially invited to celebrate
the wedding of
Hermione Jean Granger
Draco Lucius Malfoy
On Thursday afternoon
November the 17th
at three o’clock
BOO YA, TWIST!
Okay, so I kind of got out of my rut enough to write this, and I really like it!
I’ve taken on a stupidly large idea that I’ve dubbed The Snow Patrol Project. This is part four of thirteen.
Some odd amount of months ago, I made my boyfriend a mixtape of only Snow Patrol songs, those only that reminded me of him, and so I’m taking those thirteen songs and turning them into oneshots that feature only three pairings: Harry/Ginny, Draco/Hermione, and Sirius/Lily. Yes. I know. It sounds crazy, and it probably is, but I think I’m going to have a lot of fun with this.
So. If you’re reading this now, look out for the next one: If There’s a Rocket, Tie Me to It. It’s a Sirius/Lily. And I hope anyone who reads this goes on to read the other twelve!
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