✧ ᴏғ ғᴏᴏᴛsɪᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ᴍɪsᴇʀɪᴇs ✧

ᴏɴᴇ sʜᴏᴛ ᴏɴᴇ

~Hi! I'm back, already finding it impossible to stay away from this story! So, I'm gifting you a One shot nobody asked for but I wrote anyway. It takes place around the next February after the Battle of Hogwarts. Hope you enjoy and let me know if and what other One shots you'd like to see! They can be at any stage throughout the book, it doesn't have to just be in the time skip. I already have some ideas but I'm interested to hear yours too!~

"𝕳ow was your day?"

Grumbles of Oonagh's favourite kind, loud and tetchy, immediately thunder through Draco's chest as he locks the blue door behind him. His day. His excruciatingly long, exhausting day. It was certainly no holing up in the Room of Requirements, staring at a broken Vanishing Cabinet until his eyes physically burned and the Dark Lord's phantom chastising whispers brought him to tears, but he reckons his narkey hole of a boss breathing down his neck every five seconds was a close second.

Swiftly, he kicks off his formal winklepickers, ensuring that they don't disturb the neat collection of Uggs on the shoe rack. Even the slightest change of position and he'll have a suspicious detective on his hands. Somehow, she always knows and Draco doesn't want any more surprises when he opens up the kitchen cupboards, searching for something that actually belongs in the kitchen and discovering them instead.

He hangs up his atrocious lime green robe, ecstatic that he doesn't have to wear that abomination of a professional uniform for three days. Ecstatic that he made the cracking decision months ago to book this coming Friday off and have himself a long weekend, spending free, flexible time with his wife. His wife, who's as blatantly nosy as ever, he learns, spotting her craning around an extensive amount to gain a peep at him from where she's currently sitting.

The grouchiness tight and unfaltering inside his chest finally slackens and begins to fade as he strides towards her, feeling the warm tickles of the sun. Not the giant, cosmic ball of hot gas that rises and sets prettily every day, but his own, personal Sunshine looking so adorable snuggled up on their  conservatory couch that Draco's heart swells three times as big in the short journey it takes to get to her. When he bends down, she smiles up, smiles into the doting kiss never in a million years he could resist.

Oonagh's heart giggles as he slumps down besides her with a deep groan, raking a hand through his devastatingly handsome fair locks,

"Not regretting your decision already, are you?"

Decision. The decision to not accept the offer to return to Hogwarts for his final year. It had been an easy one for Oonagh to make, not too put out by the thought of skipping the dreadful NEWT exams that she's witnessed seventh years weep in stress over. Oonagh's never been the one for academics. Draco always has. Always strived to achieve good marks in his classes, more often than not falling not too behind the brightest witch of their age, who jumped at the chance to return, unlike Oonagh, Harry and Ron.

The Irish witch had made it clear it was Draco's and Draco's decision alone whether he chooses to return, and whatever decision he made, she would support. They would make it work, find a way to make time for each other, being newly weds and all. And like he should've, Draco had debated it, long and hard, but when a healing apprenticeship at St Mungo's came up, in his mind, there was no other option for him. It's a win, win, really. He's able to do something he's always secretly aspired to do and return home to Oonagh every day — his favourite part.

"No, not in the slightest" He answers truthfully, rolling his head in her direction, catching her eyes.

Oonagh nods once, leaning forwards to loosen up his smart tie, popping open the first couple of stiff shirt buttons, informing,

"I have you something snuggly on our radiator when you're ready"

Draco groans again, this time, one of pure admiration and reverence. She's good. His wife is good, so good that he has to physically stop himself from flying back out of the door to shout it off the clifftops. His hand finds hers, bringing it up to his lips, kissing the accumulation of symbolic rings that she never takes off.