Hermione heaves a sigh as she sits down on a nearby bench, pushing her sunglasses up on top of her head and rolling the sleeves of her linen blouse up to her elbows. When she had booked the cottage in Devon, as part of Draco's Christmas present last year, she hadn't planned on being eight months pregnant when the holiday eventually came.
"Come on, we need to get back to grandad's for lunch." Kyla, Neville's youngest daughter, tells her, pulling on her hand in an attempt to get her to stand.
"I just need a little rest," Hermione mutters, mopping her brow with a floral handkerchief that Narcissa had sent her a few days ago, along with a note wishing them a happy holiday. "You should catch up with your Mum," She tells the child.
Kyla hops onto the bench beside her, swinging her legs beneath her. "When's your baby gonna get here?" She asks, looking up at her.
"It's not long now, another five weeks and the baby will arrive," Hermione tells her.
"KYLA!" Joelle shouts from further down the path. "MUM SAYS TO HURRY UP!"
"Go on, go catch up with your sister. It won't be long." She assures the young girl who jumps down and runs alongside the river to where Joelle, her mother, aunts, and cousins are walking Hyperion's new dog, Millie.
Hermione spends what she thinks is a few minutes watching a mother duck with her ducklings swimming under a footbridge and along the river. It's not until Draco sits down beside her that she realises she's been there longer.
"How are you feeling?" He asks, handing her a bottle of water.
"I'm rather tired." She admits with a smile, sipping at the refreshingly cold drink. "I think I better go for a lie down after lunch." She tells him.
"Well lunch is ready at the house," He smiles. "We made sandwiches, a salad, then there's some crisps and a fruit trifle."
"You have been busy," She kisses his cheek. "Help me up, please." She sighs, holding her hand out.
Draco stands, pulling her gently up into an embrace. "Not long now." He kisses her forehead. "Five more weeks."
"Five more weeks," Hermione sighs, resting her forehead against his shoulder, enjoying the comfort.
"Let's walk back to Hyperion's before all the food has gone." He jokes, taking her hand as they walk along the side of the river and up a slight incline to Hyperion's house.
"Lovely for you to join us, dear," Sarah says, setting up a plate for Hermione. "Would you like a side of cheese and onion crisps?" She asks.
"I'd love some, thank you, Sarah." Hermione sits at the dinner table with a sigh of relief.
"How are your ankles doing, Hermione?" Danielle asks, popping a grape in her mouth with one hand as she feeds a small piece of cheese to Annabella in her highchair. "My ankles got so swollen I could barely walk to the toilet in the last month," She smiles at her daughter.
"I can't believe she's a year old," Hermione says.
"I know, it goes so fast, I'm warning you now," Danielle stares at Hermione and Draco. "Saviour every moment. I miss when she would wiggle around on her stomach. She's getting ready to walk now." She admits proudly.
"For our baby's first year, we have parental leave and will spend every moment with them," Draco says, leaning against the back of Hermione's chair as he steals a lettuce leaf from her plate.
"Draco, if your hungry, make your own plate, dear, it's rude to take food from a pregnant woman's plate." Sarah chides him, handing him a spare plate.
"Thank you, Sarah." Draco takes the plate, shaking his head when Hermione sends him a smirk.
Sarah takes her plate carefully into the conservatory where Carol, Neville and their children are sat with Hyperion and Alarte enjoying their own plates of food.
"Have you got the nursery ready, mate?" Richard asks Draco.
Draco nods. "We've had it done a while. It doesn't take us long to decorate or create furniture." He mentions, kneeling beside Hermione since all the chairs around the kitchen table were taken.
"You don't look like a carpenter," Richard mentions with a knowing wink.
Draco smiles and nods in confusion. Hyperion's whole family knows about magic, including his children-in-law, so he's not sure why Richard is trying so hard to avoid suspicion.
"Do you have any plans tonight?" Arania asks. "It's just us five are going out for some drinks tonight. Dad and Granny are watching the kids." She motions at Avis, Richard, Abe, and Danielle.
"Are the others not invited?" Hermione asks.
"It's Damion's birthday tomorrow, so Al's spending the night at his house." Abe answers.
"They're going into Exeter tomorrow to see some film and have some drinks," Avis adds.
"What about Neville and Carol?" Draco asks.
The five other people at the table glance at each other.
"Neville, he gets..." Arania starts, her voice quiet.
"He's not the most pleasant person when he's had too many drinks." Avis states.
"You probably haven't noticed. He rarely drinks, especially not around the kids," Arania adds.
"Dad usually has the kids overnight if we all go out, so he'll have more than usual." Abe continues.
Hermione looks at Draco a little concerned. None of her family or friends really drink that much. The exception being Ron after the partner ceremony when he was drowning his sorrows. He did get quite mean, but he's cut down his drinking since Pansy fell pregnant and the twins were born.
"He's not physical or anything." Abe quickly clarifies. "Just obnoxiously loud and gets into arguments over anything." He sighs.
"I'd love to join you all, but I really need a rest, and I don't think I would be much fun," Hermione admits.
"Nonsense, you don't need to drink to have fun." Danielle comments.
"But it sure helps." Avis smiles, picking up her glass of white wine.
"Avis!" Abe hisses at her.
Hermione chuckles. "It's fine, I don't think I would be very comfortable anyway." She says, turning to Draco. "If you want to enjoy some time with your cousins though Draco, I'm more than happy to stay and help Hyperion and Sarah with these two." She smiles at the two babies sat in highchairs.
"I apologise, but I'll have to wait until next time. This is our last breakaway before the baby arrives and I'd rather spend it with my wife." Draco states.
"No problem, our next one probably won't be until Christmas anyway, plenty of time for you both to recover from the miracle of childbirth." Arania mentions.
"Mom, can I use grandad's phone, I need to call my dad." A tall, blond-haired, sixteen-year-old peers around the kitchen door.
"You better ask your grandad, Spence, you know calls to America cost more." Avis reminds him.
"Yeah," he sighs, walking through the kitchen into the conservatory.
"He's shot right up, hasn't he?" Abe comments.
"Well, that's what happens when you don't see your nephew for a year," Arania adds.
"Don't you start too," Avis complains. "Dad keeps telling me to remind Spencer to call him at least once a week. The poor lad is busy. He's going into his Junior year of high school next week."
"Mom, Grandad said to use your cell," Spencer returns.
Avis sighs, picking up her handbag from the floor. "What club is it you're apart of, Spence?" She asks.
"I'm in model UN, debate, and I'm an editor on the school newspaper." He rolls his eyes, trying not to make a big deal out of it.
"That's impressive," Richard says.
"Thanks, my GPA is 3.4, so I'm hoping to boost my college application with the more exciting extracurricular activities. I want to attend a good college." He explains.
"And a 3.4 is not good?" Abe asks his nephew.
"It's above average." He shrugs. "Last year I averaged at 89%, mainly getting B pluses so this year I got a tutor for math, my weakest subject. If I can bring math up, I should be able to cross the threshold and average at least 91% this year." He explains.
"Here Spence, five minutes only," Avis hands over her mobile phone to her son.
"Thanks, Mom." He smiles, typing in a number as he walks away.
"It costs a fortune to call Florida." She sighs.
"How do you get your head around the American school system?" Abe asks.
"I don't, he tells me what percentage he gets and the letter grade. That's as much as I can understand. I thought B pluses were great. I got into Exeter with B pluses." Avis admits boastfully.
"You got in because Mum still worked there and you were predicted three A grades," Abe shakes his head.
"Well, I was only a few marks off an A, and I was seven months pregnant at the time." She finishes her drink off, standing up. "It's been five minutes; I better tell Spence."
"It's been three at most," Abe mutters as his elder sister leaves in such of her son. "She's never forgiven Ben for taking Spencer over to America." He adds.
"There's a lot of family drama coming out today." Arania smiles, awkwardly at Hermione and Draco.
"It's fine, we've all got family drama," Hermione says.
"My father is in prison," Draco admits.
"So is my Aunt; my parents adopted her four children," Hermione adds.
"You've been a part of our family for over a year now, you're entitled to know the family secrets." Arania grins.
"What family secrets?" Richard asks.
"You already know," She shushes her husband.
Andrew slams his fists into the tray of his highchair, demanding attention before he starts crying.
"I've got him. He's long overdue for his feed and a nap." Arania picks him up, cuddling him to her chest. "I'll be in my old bedroom." She adds, leaving the kitchen with Richard following after her.
"So, these family secrets," Draco prompts.
"The only family secret we have is that Mum and Dad were in a student/teacher relationship at university, but Al told you that, right?" Abe asks.
"Yes, he told us." Draco nods, standing up to take Arania's vacant seat beside Hermione.
"Great sandwiches, Draco." Alarte laughs as he steps up into the kitchen from the conservatory.
"Thanks, I heard you're going into Exeter tomorrow, for Damion's birthday," Draco says.
"Um, yes, we are." He places his plate beside the sink.
"Wish him a Happy Birthday from me then," Draco adds.
"Yeah, of course," He nods, sitting in Richard's seat. "Did I thank you for those Pulp tickets? Damion said thanks too. We got to go backstage and meet Jarvis." He grins, but it falters. "Actually, I need to talk to you privately." He nods to the door.
Draco follows Alarte into his bedroom where his cousin closes the door behind them.
"I'm just going to come straight out and tell you, but please don't be angry," Alarte states, his face paling. "Damion knows, about your world. It was Jarvis, he mentioned that you'd told me about his other band and gave us both a record of their music. Damion kept quiet, and Jarvis went on about how weird it was to talk to Muggles about the magical side of his life. Then I asked him to sign the record, and he made a pen out of a cigarette just in his hands. We left after that ad Damion was freaking out, so I had to tell him. He's completely chill about it all now, so there's nothing to worry about. He hasn't brought it up much since, and I forgot to tell you." He blurts out nervously.
Draco sighs, rubbing his face. "It's alright, do you mind if I come with you tonight to meet him." He asks.
"You're not going to do anything, are you?" He asks worriedly.
"No, I just want to talk to him, make sure he understands that he can't tell anyone about anything." He clarifies.
"Okay, I was going to leave in ten minutes," Alarte admits. "It's only a fifteen-minute walk, and it's in the direction of your cottage." He adds.
"Hermione's driving us back, I'll get her to drop us off and wait for me. I won't intrude long."
Alarte nods, "I'm sorry for this mess."
"It's okay. I'm in enough trouble as it is with my government, if they find out Damion knows, they find out your whole family knows, and that's my fault. I'll take the blame." He assures his cousin.
"Thank you so much." He gives his cousin a side hug as they leave his bedroom.
In the kitchen, Hermione is sipping at a much-needed cup of tea, her first of the day. Danielle and Abe had left not long after Draco and Alarte, excusing themselves to put Annabella down for a nap. Hermione takes in the brief moment of solitude before Draco enters looking a little stressed out, which is what this break away is supposed to combat.
"I've told Alarte we'll drop him off at Damion's house, it's on the way to our cottage." He explains.
"That's fine." She yawns. "Are we going soon?" She asks.
"In ten minutes; we just need to do our goodbyes, and then we can leave." Draco answers.
Hermione nods, finishing off her tea, then stands up, stretching her back.
They stand on the step of the kitchen, leading down into the conservatory, where the rest of their family is sat chatting and enjoying the view of Sarah's beautiful garden, which is in full bloom with butterflies and bees fluttering around.
"We're heading out in a few minutes," Hermione announces. "I need a short nap, and we're going to drop Alarte off at Damion's on the way.
"You're more than welcome to take one of our spare bedrooms if you want a little rest." Hyperion offers.
"I think they're all taken, but thank you for the offer. I'd also like a warm bath to relax a little." She explains.
"Of course, well we'll be seeing you tomorrow night, no doubt. I told you about our takeaway night?" Hyperion asks.
"Yes, what are you having this week?" Draco asks.
"Most likely fish and chips."
"Perfect, we'll be over around four o'clock, we've got some plans tomorrow." Hermione smiles up at Draco.
"Do we?"
"You'll have to wait and see." She teases.
"I'm ready whenever you guys are," Alarte announces from behind them, a bag over his shoulder.
Hyperion stands, hugging both Draco and Hermione goodbye, wishing them a pleasant day tomorrow.
"Did you tell Hermione?" Alarte asks, from the middle seat in the back of Andromeda's car, that Hermione had borrowed again.
"Tell me what?" She frowns.
"I didn't want to risk your father hearing," Draco mentions.
"Fair enough," He nods, turning to look at Hermione's eyes in the mirror. "Damion knows all about the magical world. Jarvis kind of mentioned some stuff at the concert when we met him backstage, so I had to fill him in."
"Oh," Hermione sighs. "What are you going to do?" She asks Draco, glancing over at him as she turns down Damion's street.
"I'm just going to talk to him," He assures her, knowing what question she wanted to ask. He would not obliviate his cousin's boyfriend unless it became an absolute necessity.
"He lives just here," Alarte points at a small terraced house.
Hermione pulls over behind the car, parked in the driveway. "I'll wait here." She tells them. She'd never met Damion and doesn't think her sudden presence will help the situation.
Draco and Alarte climb out, walking up the driveway to the front door. Alarte knocks. A woman in her early forties answers the door.
"Hi, Al, you brought a friend?" She asks, opening the door further to allow them entry.
"This is my cousin, we all hung out in Birmingham a few months ago. He wanted to wish Damion a happy birthday for tomorrow." Alarte tells Damion's mother.
"He's in his room," She closes the door. "Just head straight up."
Alarte leads the way up to Damion's bedroom at the back of the house, bursting straight in through the door.
"Al!" Damion screams, throwing a pillow at his head. "Learn to knock."
"Draco's here," Alarte tells him as he steps into the bedroom, glancing around the beige room with a few posters, one above his bed of pulp.
"My Mum decorated." He mutters, looking a little nervous. "Long time no see." He smiles.
"Yes, Alarte told me it was your birthday tomorrow, your twentieth, right? I came to wish you a happy birthday." Draco mentions.
"Yeah, thanks," He gets off his bed, staring awkwardly between Alarte and Draco.
"He knows that you know, he just wants to talk." Alarte throws his bag at the foot of his friends' bed and kicking his shoes off.
"I'm not going to tell anyone," Damion promises, eyes wide. "I swear, I haven't told a soul, and I've known for months."
"It's fine, Damion." Draco holds his hands up. "I just need to know that you understand the severity of this situation. You aren't supposed to know, Alarte isn't supposed to know, despite being the son of a man who was born and lived in our world for nine years. If the Ministry in my world finds out, they will make you forget, and they will make you forget more than our existence." He warns him.
"What does that mean?" Alarte frowns. "You said you would take the blame."
"I will, but my connection to Damion is through you, so if they find out he knows, they'll take his memories of you since your relationship risks him finding out again." He tells them. "But they won't take yours, Alarte, as a warning of what they'll do if you tell anyone else." He sighs. "That's why, if you ever tell anyone, anything about the magical world, you have to tell me straight away so I can deal with it."
"Deal with it as in..." Alarte prompts.
"By taking removing their memories of magic. It's a simple spell that I've used for this reason before. It doesn't hurt them, and I will only take their knowledge of magic." He assures them. "I need you both to promise me, if either of you tells anyone, to contact me. Alarte has my number, he can give it to you, Damion." He says.
"Yeah, I promise, of course, you can trust me." Damon nods, passing Alarte his phone.
"Great, have a nice birthday tomorrow. Alarte, I probably won't see you again until your October reading week." Draco says since he and Hermione are set to drive back to London on Sunday morning in two days.
"No, you have to come to get me so I can meet your baby," Alarte tells him. "No straight away, obviously but I want to meet them. I'm going to be a second cousin."
Draco chuckles, "Okay. I'll get you when we bring the baby to visit your dad and granny." He promises them. "I'll leave you two; I've left Hermione in the car."
"We'll walk you out, I want to see your wife," Damion says, motioning for them to leave his bedroom. "Oh, she is pretty." He comments once he's opened the front door, waving at the woman sat in the driver's seat.
Hermione waves back, assuming the man is Damion. Draco bids them goodbye before joining her in the passenger seat.
"How did it go?" She asks, starting the engine and performing a three-point turn so she can drive out of Damion's street.
"Fine, I think I scared them into never telling anyone." He admits amusedly.
"Not too much, I hope."
"No, I just told them what the Ministry would do if they ever found out."
"They're close, aren't they?" Hermione comments.
"Yes, they've been best friends for eighteen years, and now they're dating, they aren't going to want to risk that." He mentions.
Hermione turns off onto a side road that leads them into the Devonshire countryside. A few miles down the road, she turns into a driveway leading to three cottages, the last of which is the one she rented them for five days.
"This is such a beautiful area," Draco comments as he climbs out of the car, taking in the fresh air.
"It is very quiet, tranquil, nothing like the city." She agrees, locking the car.
"Would you rather live in a city or in a small town like this?" Draco asks as they walk up the steps to their cottage.
"When we move out of the estate?" She asks.
"Yes, or just in general."
"Well, all my family live in London, but after living at Hogwarts and on the estate, I think I'd prefer somewhere quiet, in the country, but maybe halfway between London and Devon," Hermione suggests, sitting down on the bench on their porch.
"Wiltshire," Draco smirks.
"Not near your mother, no." She laughs.
"She's been playing nice since she found out about the pregnancy." He points out, sitting beside her.
"She should have been playing nice the whole time."
"Okay, not Wiltshire." He smiles.
"Perhaps Hampshire." She suggests, gazing across the rolling hills and wooded forests of the Devonshire countryside.
"If you stay here, I'll draw you a bath." Draco stands, unlocking the front door to their cottage.
He turns the hot tap on over the bath, adding some bubble bath to the steaming water. Whilst the water rises, he searches the drawers and cupboards for some matches, finding a box in the drawer below the kitchen sink. Striking a match, he lights a candle the owner had left on the bathroom window ledge. Almost instantly, the bathroom is filled with a relaxing lavender scent form the candle and the bubble bath. He's sure his mother once mentioned lavender naturally aids sleep.
While his wife enjoys her bath, with some soft music from the portable radio, they found in the kitchen on their first night in the cottage, Draco lounges across the couch, a newly published book from a prominent Peruvian potion maker in his hand. According to Madam Alvarez, adding the blood of a male decedent of a veela to polyjuice potion could potentially prolong the effect of the potion. Although, male decedents are extremely rare, and so she could not test the results since the last recorded one died in 1937.
Hermione, wrapped in two towels and her dressing gown, joined Draco on the couch as she ran mousse through her hair and scrunched it dry with a third towel.
"How's your book?" She asks.
"Fascinating," He replaces his bookmark, setting it down on the floor. "It's a shame she can't test her theory, but it all sounds plausible." He comments, opening his arms for Hermione to cuddle against his side.
"Shall we put that video on," Hermione suggests.
"The weird one or the ship one?" Draco asks, making Hermione chuckle.
"The ship one, my Mum said it's excellent. It made her cry." She tells him, struggling to stand up from the couch.
"I'm not sure why you'd want to knowingly watch a film that'll make you cry." He says. "I'll put it on if you want to get changed." He offers.
"If you can remember how." She teases, heading into their bedroom to change.
When she returns, the film is paused, ready to play as soon as they've settled down on the couch with the cup of tea Draco has made in their hands.
"I'm impressed," she admits, sitting beside her husband and leaning against his side. "You know this as based on a real event, right?"
"I know what the Titanic is, Hermione?" Draco's rolls his eyes.
"Okay, no need for the sarcasm, we never learnt about it at Hogwarts." She says.
Hermione ends up falling asleep twenty minutes into the film and doesn't wake up again until twenty minutes before the end. Draco meanwhile had been completely enthralled throughout the film.
"What did I miss?" Hermione yawns.
"A lot, I'll tell you later after it's finished." He tells her, leaning forward.
"Okay, I'm going to wash up then I'll meet you in bed." She tells him, standing up and collecting their cups to wash.
Hermione is just about to drift off to sleep, wrapped up in the duvet and blankets of their cottage's king-size bed when she hears Draco shouting at the TV from the living room.
"Oh, come on, move over." He shouts.
Hermione laughs, rolling over to face the bedroom door. Five minutes later, she can hear Draco walking around as he presumably tidies up before coming to bed. He throws the door open, apologising as it bangs against the wall. He quickly changes out of his clothes and climbs into bed beside her.
"Didn't like the ending then? I thought you knew how it ended." Hermione jokes, wrapping an arm around him.
"I knew it sank, Hermione, but they took some liberties with the romantic plotline." He huffs, just adding to her amusement. "They both could have fitted on that bloody door." He turns to face her.
"Are these tear tracks?" She asks, running her finger along his white stained cheek.
Draco burrows his face in her shoulder. "What are our plans for tomorrow?"
"Wait and see, Draco." She kisses his cheek.
The next morning, Hermione wakes up thanks to their baby lying on her bladder and decides to make the most of the early hour by making herself some breakfast and enjoying it on the porch bench as the sun rises. Draco joins her an hour or so later with two cups of tea, one of which he hands to his wife.
"Thank you," She kisses him. "The sun is beautiful this early." She comments.
"It really is," He agrees, throwing his spare arm around her shoulders.
"I need you ready by quarter to nine for our plans." She tells him.
"Is this our last date before the little one comes?" He pats at her stomach.
"It might be." She checks her watch. "Eight o'clock, do you want to stay here for a little while longer?"
"Yes, I do." He sighs, placing his feet on the barrier of the porch, crossing his ankles.
"A cloudless, blue morning," Hermione mutters. "It should be a lovely day."
"One of the last since summer is over soon," Draco adds.
Hermione hums, leaning her head against his shoulder.
"This has been a lovely break away," Draco tells her. "Thank you." He kisses her forehead.
"You're welcome, but it's not over yet." She grins.
"Should we get ready; make a move?" He stretches as he sits up.
"Yes, probably," She takes his proffered hand as they both stand up. "It'll take us ten minutes to drive there." She tells him as they head inside.
Once they're both dressed, Draco in a pair of dark linen trousers and a shirt, Hermione in a floral maternity dress, she drove them down the driveway onto the country road until they reached a turning which was signposted as 'Rose's Strawberry Farm'. When she indicated, Draco was surprised.
"We're going to a strawberry farm?" He gazes out the passenger window at the multiple tents, supposedly filled with strawberry plants.
"Yes, it was actually Danielle who gave me the idea. Abe took them here on their first date six years ago." Hermione explains as she parks up.
"It's looking very- cute," Draco comments, for lack of a better word. "Where do we go?" He asks.
"To the barn," she points over to a converted barn, which houses a market and a tea room. "We collect a basket to take into the strawberry tent, pick our crop," Hermione explains, leading him into the barn.
"That's sounds delightful." He chuckles, kissing her cheek, as they reach the market counter.
"Can we have one basket, please?" Hermione orders from the middle-aged farmer.
"It's five-pounds a basket, lovely." He says, taking a basket out from beneath the counter.
Hermione hands over a five-pound note in return, handing the basket to Draco.
"No eating the berries out in the tent, you hear." The man warns them.
"No worries, sir. We've just eaten our breakfast." Draco assures him, taking Hermione's arm in his and walking out of the barn.
The walk up to the first tent is a small incline, so they take it slowly, not wanting the heavily pregnant Hermione to be breathless in the tent.
"I'm feeling fine," She assures her husband when they reach the top.
Draco takes a plump, ripe strawberry off the first plant inside the tent and hands it to her.
"We should replenish our energy levels." He smiles, taking a second strawberry and biting straight into the fruit. "Deliciously sweet." He tempts her.
Hermione rolls her eyes amusedly but takes a bite anyway, and he's right. It is very sweet, and it does help her feel better.
"That's it, one each, we're not eating anymore." She warns him.
"I won't eat any more, but if my pregnant wife, mother of my unborn child is hungry or needs to increase her energy a little more, I'm sure Mr Grumpy-Farmer won't mind." He tells her, passing her another piece of fruit.
"Thanks for your concern, but I'll be fine." She places it in their basket, hanging from the crook of Draco's elbow. "Shall we," She gestures for him to follow her down the furthest row of plants that appear to be untouched.
Hermione ends up eating a few more strawberries, or rather Draco feeds her a few more, although she doesn't mind too much as they are delicious. It does earn them a disapproving glare from an elderly couple that seem to have been coming here for years since they knew all the best plants to choose from.
At one point, Hermione found a tiny strawberry, no bigger than a grape, that she threw in the air for Draco to catch, which he did, with his mouth, forgetting about the green leaves that he then spent a few minutes picking out of his teeth and complaining about, much to Hermione's amusement.
Once their basket is full, and Hermione's is feeling tired on her feet, they head back to the barn.
"If we take our basket into the tearoom, they'll make us a strawberry afternoon tea with our freshly picked strawberries," Hermione states interestedly.
"We're just in time for brunch; not quite the afternoon but it doesn't matter." He says as they find a table for tea beside a window, overlooking the field where the farm's cows are currently roaming, grazing the grass.
When the waiter arrives, they hand over their basket and ordered two strawberry afternoon teas.
Hermione suddenly starts laughing.
"What?" Draco frowns.
"Turn around." She tells him.
Draco glance over his shoulder and comes face to face with an impressively sized cow outside, only the pane of glass keeping them apart.
"I think she likes you." Hermione teases.
"Very funny," He chuckles. "I don't think I've ever picked strawberries, or any other fruit for that matter, before." He admits.
"As a child, my Grandma Emily would take me down to the allotments behind her church, there was this man who had a massive bramble bush, and he allowed us to fill up boxes full of the berries. We would then make jars and jars of jam to sell at the church for the collection, but she would save a small jar for me." Hermione reminisces.
"Mitty used to make a lovely jam when I was a child, although I was never allowed to help." He says.
"We can make some jam if you want?" She offers. "I'm not sure I can remember how but my Grandma Emily can help us."
"We do have a basket full of strawberries." He agrees.
The waiter returns with a pot of tea between them, and two-tiered serving plates of scones, cakes and sandwiches. A top of each cake was a strawberry, as well as some chopped up in the cream for their scones.
"Your table number is four so when you're ready to leave, we'll collect your strawberries from the walk-in refrigerator." The waiter informs them.
"Thank you,"
Hermione watches as Draco correctly prepares his scones, smiling at the memory of the first time he'd eaten one, which she voices to him. She laughs when he stops spreading the strawberry jam to stare at her.
"I think about that moment a lot," Hermione admits. "It always cheers me up."
"I'm glad my embarrassment brings you amusement." He goes back to spreading jam.
"Our relationship might have been a bit backwards, with us getting married and then falling in love, but we do have many fond moments from over the past fourteen months." She tells him.
"Such as-" He smiles, knowing Hermione's been walking down memory road a lot this past couple of weeks.
"The first time we went shopping together," She states.
"Ah, Nessie," He smirks.
"Oh, you remember her then?" She frowns.
"The first time you got jealous over me." He laughs.
Hermione shakes her head. "Not the first time you were oblivious though." She takes a bite of her sandwich.
"I thought she was just nice."
"Another fond memory of mine is the first time you used an escalator, or a revolving door, or travelled in a car." She laughs.
"I see you're focusing on my more embarrassing moments," He sips at his tea. "One of my favourite memory of us," he smiles, "is the first time you kissed me."
"Oh goodness," Hermione buries her face in her hands. "I'm trying to forget that specific memory."
"Why, it was cute and completely unexpected, but then you ran off and locked yourself in the bathroom. I probably would have kissed you right back had you not run away." Draco admits.
"Really, after a week?"
"Perhaps, I guess we'll never know." He shrugs.
Hermione chuckles, going back to her afternoon tea, but she can't stop thinking about what would have happened had Draco kissed her back.
The thought follows her from the strawberry farm, to down by the canal where they enjoy a slow walk, to Hyperion's house at four o'clock ready for their fish and chips takeaway.
Draco has noticed throughout the afternoon that something wasn't quite right with Hermione. She had been quiet, lost in her thoughts, and it hadn't taken him long to recount their topics of conversation back to the first kiss. When they get back to their cottage for their final night, Hermione asks him if he would like a cup of tea.
"We've already had three today, more than Healer Heath recommended." He answers.
"I'm just going to have a small glass of warm milk while we wind down, would you like a cup of tea?" She asks him.
Draco smiles from the couch and calls, "Yes, please." An idea forming in his head.
Once the kettle had boiled, he stands up, leaning against the kitchen counter.
"Hermione!" He calls her name to gain her attention.
"Yes," She mutters, not turning around as she stirs his cup of tea.
"I'm glad we got paired together." He admits.
Hermione glance of her shoulder, looking confused as to why he's suddenly telling her.
"Without you, I would have been looking at an inevitably lonely, depressing future." He tries to remember his lines.
Hermione drops the teaspoon in the mug, turning to face him with concern. "Draco, what are you saying?"
"It's true." He says, and Hermione's eyes widen.
"Are you teasing me?"
"No, I'm just as serious today as I was then. The path I was going down was miserable, and you saved me, I'm not sure I would have become who I am today without you." He improvises his new sentiment.
"You better kiss me back this time," Hermione tells him as she strides across the kitchen, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him closer.
Draco smiles, wrapping his own arms around his waist. "Kiss me and find out."
Hermione presses her mouth gently against her husband's, in a chaste kiss, waiting for his answer. He teasingly makes her wait for two seconds before kissing her back. Hermione smiles into the kiss, enjoying it until they separate.
"You know, you've helped me become who I am today too." She admits. Draco frowns in disbelief, his wife was pretty amazing before she became his wife. "It's true," She repeats his line from earlier. "Do you really think the old me would have stood up to Kingsley the way we have? You've helped me become more selfish." She says.
"Selfish?" He frowns.
"Well, you've taught me I can put myself first sometimes."
"Self-preservation," He suggests.
"Perhaps, and if it's possible, I've become more determined." She adds.
"You've always been determined."
Hermione smiles, pressing a kiss to his lips for a second. "Your tea is getting cold." She tells him, removing herself from his embrace to finish his tea.
"Hermione!" He calls her name again.
Hermione chuckles but glances over to him.
"I love you," he tells her.
Hermione shakes her head, handing over his cup of tea. "I love you too, darling." She smiles.
"My dear," He laughs at their little inside joke.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As you may have noticed, I have changed my name to Delilah Wise as I dislike Dumbledore's Wisdom. I hope it doesn't cause too much confusion.