A Perfect Day to Elope

September 19, 2003

The dust on the windowsill was gathering sunlight and a gentle summer breeze was blowing warm air through a pair of homey-looking curtains. The leaves on the trees were at that shining point between summer and fall where they've turned to the fiery shades of autumn, but do not yet wish to fall. Yes, it was a perfect day to elope.

Made even more so by the fact that it was her, Hermione Granger's, birthday- though she had yet to know that it was also to be her wedding day.

She'd gotten the usual: a novel from Harry, a nice sparkly bracelet from Ron, chocolates from the Weasley twins (she hadn't touched those), a fuzzy brown sweater from Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, a packet of biscuits from Hagrid (she hadn't touched those either), a green T-shirt emblazoned with the word "Virgo" across the chest from Luna Lovegood, and a DVD player from her parents (along with a couple of DVDs). She hadn't expected anything more, really. Turning twenty-three wasn't like turning eighteen, or even twenty-five for that matter. It was just another year to say proudly- "Nope, haven't died yet." Not that Hermione expected to die any time soon- in fact she planned on living a long fruitful life, though perhaps she'd do something fruitful after she'd finished her breakfast.

"Well," she said to her toaster, which was humming happily on her kitchen counter, "it's not as though I could really honestly expect him to remember, really. I mean it's not as though he remembered our anniversary-- but no, that's not fair. He did remember that, he was just working is all." Her toaster reflection forced a smile- but even stretched on stainless steel she looked silly. She turned around so she could lean back on her elbows. "He did get me a nice Halloween present." She was now talking to her telephone (which she kept for calling her parents, as they'd never quite figured out owl post), "And that nightie he got me for Valentine's day was very expensive looking, though I think he was quite keen to see me out of it," she snorted, "once he'd seen me in it.

"And he got me a lovely Christmas present. Who would have thought he could be so s--"

"Now really Granger, are you going to talk to your kitchen appliances all day, or are you going to let a bloke give you your birthday present?"

The man crawling out of Hermione's fireplace was remarkable only for the fact that he was dangerously attractive, which was odd as he was neither tall, dark, nor astonishingly handsome. He was only a bit taller than average, which was still taller than Hermione, his skin was pale-on-the-verge-of-sickly, and his pointed face was arranged around a pair of unremarkable cold gray eyes. The only notable thing about him was his hair, which was silvery white-blonde; sometimes the color of a peeled banana, sometimes the illusive silvery tones of moon glow (which unfortunately cannot be bottled and so is coveted by those lucky enough to be born with the hair of an angel). Yet he was dangerously attractive, if only for the fact that he possessed the air of someone who was used to getting what they want. He was cunning, and so consequently suave, charming, and irresistibly smooth.

"Well?" He stood, brushing soot off his pants.

"Well what?" She was still watching him from beside the toaster.

"Are you going to let me give you your present?" He leaned into the counter next to her, smirking at her confusion.

"Why didn't you just send it over- or did your owl run away again?" she snorted.

"Owls don't run, Granger, they fly. And no, Sineese hasn't flown away. She's actually sleeping... or eating. I swear that bird thinks she's a dog," he grinned mutinously.

"Alright." She dove her hands into his pockets. "I'd like my present then." She could tell what he was doing and by no means whatsoever was she going to let him weasel his way out of giving her a birthday present.

"You silly tart!" he sneered, leaning so close that she could feel his breath on her forehead. "It's not in my pockets-" he whispered, his breath tickling her ear, "it's in my pants..."

She immediately drew her hands out of his pants and jumped back, as though he'd turned to fire. Or ice, she thought, since he's always on fire.

"Don't look at me like that, I'm not that big of a jerk," he laughed. "It was a joke".

"Okay then," she snapped, "where is it Argh, really! Where is it really? And call me Hermione for Merlin's sake!"

"Alright, but I'm not going to call you Hermione. Granger is a--" he sneered, as though about to utter a really foul word, "pet name."

"Fine, well I have more important things to do, anyway" she sniffed, turning to fiddle with the toaster.

"Well then-" he started, but she'd turned away from the toaster and pierced him with a McGonagall-worthy glare before he could escape. She was surprised to see he looked almost... nervous!

"Yes right, Granger-- fine her-my-oh-nee, yes right Hermione, we've been..." but what they'd been Hermione never found out because at that moment there was a loud pop and the head of a very disgruntled young woman with her auburn hair done up in a messy ponytail appeared in Hermione's fireplace.

"HER-MIIIII-NEEEEEEE!" she shouted, not bothering to notice that Hermione was already kneeling by the flames.

"Yes, Tamryn, what? This is my day off!" Hermione snapped. The head of the woman called Tamryn turned her eyes on Hermione. "It's bad 'Mione! We've got a Malfoy," she sobbed. "And- oh, it'd appear that you've got one too." Tamryn spotted Draco, who was glaring daggers into the fireplace.

"Oh bloody hell Tammy! Why today?" Hermione mentally slapped herself, ignoring Tamryn's last comment. "I'll be there right away," she sighed, tucking a few flyaway hairs behind her ears.

"You better be!" Tammy snapped, and then with another resounding crack Tammy's head was gone and Hermione was grabbing a little purple pot off the top of the refrigerator. She threw a handful of floo powder onto the fire and it roared emerald green.

"Honey, I'm really, really sorry. How 'bout I'll meet you for dinner at erm... ooh! We'll stop by Ginny's and pick up some sandwiches and eat them in the park." She stood on tiptoe to kiss him. "Okay? And you can give me my present then, okay? Okay..." She jumped up to kiss him on the cheek and then ran into the fire, shouting "Diagon Alley!" In one smooth motion she was gone.

*******************

A few soot-filled moments later she tumbled into Flourish and Blotts.

"Morning Her-"

"No, thanks. Urgent business" she screamed as she ran at full speed out into the morning crowds of Diagon Alley. She pushed her way inside a little building that was indistinguishable except for the abnormally small mannequins in the window, one of them sporting petite parachute pants, another swathed in a miniscule top hat and tails.

"Ah, the cavalry's arrived," a cold voice drawled as she burst into the store, gasping for breath.

"Morning Lucius," she panted, smoothing her shirt and heading behind the cashier's desk.

"Hermione he... and he said... and..."

"Calm down Tammy! It's not like he's still got his wand!" she snapped, and Tamryn ran off into a back room, where she could be heard noisily moving a box from one wall to the other.

"Now..." Hermione turned to Lucius, who was sneering at the happy house elves beaming from the SPEW posters that covered the walls, "for what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Mutual, I'm sure," he sneered, then stiffened and became very business-like. "Now this, you call it a business?" Mr. Malfoy drawled, all too silkily for the bite behind his words.

"Yes, we do make a profit," Hermione replied, fingering the cold handle of the top-desk drawer.

"Well then, this business is under the ownership of one, or rather two, Misters Fred and George Weasley?"

"Yes, for the moment, Fred and George gave the shop to me as a... present."

"Really?" he sneered, dragging his hand across the countertop as though expecting to lift a cloud of dust. "And they leave all financial matters to you?"

"That's right," she had now wrapped her fingertips around the steely handle.

"And so you are fully aware that your... business, is failing miserably," he drawled icily, letting a cold smirk play on his lips.

"I... well... uh, wait... who sent you?" she glared at him, letting her grip on the top-drawer handle tighten.

"Now really Ms. Gr--"

"Who the bloody hell sent you. Was it PAEN? RAW? Those morons over at the CAC? If I've told them once, I've told them twice, I have every right to sell clothes to free house-elves who can afford it. If the People Against Elven Niceness or the Coalition Against Change can't handle that, it's their own ruddy problem, but I am NOT doing ANYTHING illegal here."

The silence following Hermione's rant was broken only by a solitary "whoop!" from the back room.

"Well then, if you're doing nothing wrong you wouldn't mind if I 'poked around' a bit," he sneered defiantly.

"Actually, Malfoy..." In one smooth motion she'd flipped open the top-desk drawer and was waving a slip of paper in front of his nose. "I have every right to kick you out of this store, as it is officially my property, with legalities to Fred and George Weasley, as of two weeks ago," she pointed at the certificate in her hand.

Lucius eyed it suspiciously and then with a swish of his cloak glided coolly out of the store, muttering something about muggles and hippies.

"Yeah 'Mione!" Tamryn burst from the back room, waving miniscule pink pom-poms that had come from their Halloween collection.

"Hermione, Hermione, she's our man!

If she can't do it, no one can!

Hermione, Hermione, she's our girl,

Her hair's got more than one curl!" Tammy ended her cheer with a dramatic flourish of the ribbon-filled pom-poms and leapt into the air, pumping her arms furiously.

"Wow Tammy, did you make that up all by yourself?" Hermione teased, placing a hand on her chest in mock surprise.

"Yep," Tammy nodded furiously and bent low to the ground in a bow worthy of a house-elf.

"And to think I wanted to hire competent workers." Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to the front door.

******************

"Now really Kyle, if I've told you once I've told you a thousand times, YOU CAN'T LEAVE THE GRILL ON! IT'S DANGEROUS! WE COULD ALL DIE!" Ginny Weasley was not in a good mood, made even worse by the white-blonde man who had chosen that exact moment to enter her innocent little deli.

Draco Malfoy was followed by Hermione, who was holding his hand as she made her way to the back of the restaurant and, ugh, towards Ginny.

Ginny briefly registered that Hermione was wearing the sweater she'd made her, before sinking into her chair like she always did when she saw Hermione's hand entwined in his. Ginny didn't like seeing Hermione much anyway- it made her think of Ron, which made her think of Ron and Hermione, which always made Ron sad, and so thus made Ginny herself a bit edgy.

For some reason they were smiling. Well, he wasn't smiling, he really never did, honestly; but she was smiling, she was smiling and dragging him towards the blinking sign that read "Order Here".

"Hey Gin!" Hermione waved her free hand.

"'Lo 'Mione," Ginny forced a smile and pulled herself up on the bar stool she had positioned herself on beneath the menu that kept shouted recommendations at the customers that were waiting for their orders to be filled.

"You're doing well." Hermione nodded at the packed tables.

"We do alright, how's the store?"

"It's... good," she lied.

Draco snorted.

"That's nice," Ginny sighed, "So what'll it be?" she balanced her Calcul-o-matic Quick Quill on its tip and it began vibrating excitedly.

"Oh, I don't know...("Try the tater tots!" the menu shouted) what do you want Draco?" Ginny flinched involuntarily, ew, she was calling him by his first name.

"I don't like sandwiches but... er..." He let his eyes rove over the menu, "How's the beef?"

"Divine! Like the nectar of the gods!" the menu shouted.

"She wouldn't be a very good business woman if she said no, now would she?" Hermione poked him playfully between his shoulder blades.

"Fine then, I'll have the beef, no tomato, and one espresso, no foam," he drawled, leaning back so he could see into the kitchen, which- Ginny was pleased to see- was spotless.

"And you 'Mione?" Ginny turned to Hermione, who was eyeballing the menu.

"How about a salad? Yes, I'll have the Mediterranean salad, light on the dressing with extra noodles," she announced, talking more to the menu than to Ginny.

"And to drink?"

"Nothing, I'll have some of his coffee," Hermione replied, entwining her thin fingers tighter into his. Ginny waited until their backs were turned to roll her eyes-

"Hey Kyle! One vampire special, no blood, a midnight mass, sans moon glow, and an East End salad, light on the slime, extra crunch," she shouted to the kitchen, where she could hear the grill simmering again.

"Restaurant code." She smirked at the confused look on his face.

"So, Gin, how's the family?"

"They're okay. Fred and George just opened another store- but of course you'd know they're successful."

"Yeah."

"Mom is only too pleased with 'em now, though- but you know what she was like when they dropped out."

"Yep."

"Ron's doing fine, he's got that job with the canons now."

"I heard, how's he like it there?"

"He likes it alright. But of course, he'd rather be playing."

"Of course."

"But he makes a good manager anyway. Being so stingy and all."

"Yeah, he would." Hermione laughed.

"He misses school, I think- now with Harry so far away, and you..." Her eyes flicked automatically to Hermione's hand, which was still intertwined in his. "He misses... things, I think,".

"Don't we all miss... things," he interrupted, sarcasm dripping from his pale lips.

"Oh shut up, we all know you've never missed anything you heartless git," Hermione teased, it all made Ginny feel a bit, ill...

"Oh, but what a sexy git," he replied, and Ginny ran into the kitchen, she didn't think she could maintain her well practiced cool if they started snogging.

"Kyle!" she whined, "are those sandwiches nearly done, the dynamic duo is being especially dynamic."

"That bad, huh?" Kyle was a lanky man with a boyish face and curly blonde hair that did nothing to take away from the boyish look.

"Yes, ohmygod, you'd think after practically abandoning my BROTHER at the altar she'd be, I don't know, more DISCREET about dating someone else, and I mean a MALFOY, honestly."

"She didn't really leave him at the altar though..."

"Well, no, do you think I'd be even ATTEMPTING to be civil if she HAD?"

"No, of course not."

"No, but still, don't you think that when you're ENGAGED to someone you should maybe, I don't know, TELL THEM you're not so keen on them anymore... don't go run away with their rival. I mean GOD, that TART. No, no, that's not fair of me, I know. But really Kyle, don't you think, I mean..."

"You've been spending too much time with Harry Potter, you're talking all... capslocky."

"Who cares, and is capslocky even a word?"

"If it's not it should be, don't look at me like that, I get it... oh, sandwiches are done..."

"Right..." Ginny took the brown paper bag from Kyle and trudged back into the deli, where Hermione and him were leaning against the counter, far closer than Ginny would've liked them to be.

She thrust the bag between them. "Bon Appetit!" She smiled in what she hoped was a friendly way, but really turned into a grimace.

"That'll be, twelve sickles and a knut." She watched as he counted out the change and then lead Hermione out of the store with his hand on the small of her back.

******************

"Agh! I ask for no tomato and they still give me tomato...you know, it looks like they gave me extra tomato." Draco stared in disgust at his sandwich, which was, in fact, dripping with suspiciously tomato-looking juices.

They had made their way through the busy streets of Diagon Alley into a nearly-deserted park that was filled with wilting gardens and a weak set of weather worn instruments that were attempting to play as a quartet. Hermione had settled herself on a warped wooden bench and Draco had reluctantly settled himself beside her- looking longingly over at a little café that skirted the drying green lawn.

"Here." She offered, taking the sandwich and scooping the tomatoes off the top, "I'll take these," she dropped them onto her salad, "and you will give me your espresso."

"No way, and here I thought you were being nice" he hooted, "You can have my espresso..." He waved the Styrofoam cup under her nose "...if I can have your salad,".

"Mmm... no." She shook her head.

"You can have this nasty disgusting sandwich." He made a grab for her salad but she pulled it back.

"Nope." She laughed.

"Oh come on Granger, a lovely, appetizing, highly inedible sandwich and a cup of superb coffee for your mealy salad." He took a sip from the cup, "mmm..." He coughed "Delightful."

"No."

"But I have-"

"No."

"But you-"

"No."

"But I'm just so charming!" He pouted, bringing his face much too close to hers than could possibly be allowed in public parks- however empty they may be.

"Nope." She laughed, lifting her fork and dramatically downing a mouthful of salad and noodles. "Yum..."

"That was highly insensitive."

"Was it now?" she took another large scoop of her Mediterranean salad.

"Yes, actually, and now, if you don't mind..." She made to block her salad, but rather than making another swipe at it he pressed his lips to hers.

"Mmm... good salad..." he murmured against her lips, his tongue darting out and tasting the tangy dressing mixed with her own intoxicating flavor.

"Fine, seeing as you've given such a convincing argument." She pulled away and with a wave of her wand produced a second fork in the air above his shoulder. "We'll share."

"If you insist." He sighed dramatically and accepted the fork.

All and all the proposal was less romantic than maybe she, or even he, would have liked it.

They were just finishing the salad in a manner that involved a lot of arm bending and finger intertwining.

"That is a good salad" she whispered, picking the last bit of lettuce from the bottom of the bowl and bringing it close to his lips, then raising her eyebrows and popping it into her own mouth. He snaked one irresistibly smooth arm around her neck and pulled her to him; so close they could be snogging; close enough so that she could feel his breath on her face and smell that intoxicatingly overwhelming balm that she associated with spontaneous midnight bonfires by the ocean, symphony orchestra halls, deserted Hogwarts classrooms, and him.

"Tease..." he murmured against her lips, letting his hands wrap around her thick brown hair as she pulled him into a deeper kiss.

"Hell Draco, you taste good," she whispered as he nibbled on her bottom lip, sending another wave of fresh sensations up and down her spine.

"Marry me..." he murmured against her lips.

"What was that?" she placed her hands on his forearms as he drew away ever so slightly and let his hands fall to her shoulders.

"Marry me?" he was looking deep into her eyes, deep brown as they were and wide with surprise.

"Really?" she whispered, her voice was hoarse and she didn't think it'd hold out much longer.

"Yes really you dunce." He laughed nervously, the moment having passed.

"Well, I... er... I... that's... wow! I mean...I don't know what to say to that..." she stammered, tangling and untangling her fingers with his, she knew she ought to say yes but the words just wouldn't form on her lips.

"Say yes then..." he whispered, his lips inches away from a kiss, if only she'd say yes...

"I... well then... of-" but Hermione did not finish her incoherent sentence because at that moment there was a loud, echoing pop, and she screamed and fell backwards off the bench.

He was up quicker than lightning, his wand at ready-

"Oh look! I look so stupid! Put down your wand you sexy beast!"

"Oh bloody hell, it is us isn't it? Dammit Draco! Do you have any idea how many laws we're breaking right now?"