kissing Hermione Granger

epilogue

The nine hundred and sixty-eighth time Draco Malfoy kissed Hermione Granger…

He did it because she was his. The white silk of her gown fisted in his hands, the scent of her bouquet close and cloying and almost-but-not-quite overpowering the ever-pervasive smell of her hair, the tickle of her veil against his cheek, the cheers and catcalls from the crowd watching them, all of it melting and melding into one perfect moment where everything was right with the world.

Hermione pulled away, breathless and flushed to whisper admonishingly, "Goodness, Draco! Our mothers are watching."

"I don't care if the resurrected corpse of Voldemort himself is watching, you're my wife now and I'll kiss you as I damn well please."

She laughed softly, swaying into him as they turned to begin their walk back down the aisle together. "Still, we've got the whole reception to get through, and if you keep kissing me like that, we'll never make it."

"Ah yes, the insatiable Mrs. Malfoy. Forever ruined her reputation on her first day of marriage with a most scandalous display at her own wedding reception. Our children's children will write ballads of our epic and licentious romance."

Her soft laughter swept over him in waves, leaving that feeling of satisfaction and completion that he only ever found with her.

"Of course they will, dear. But until then…"

Draco pulled her against him at the end of the aisle, the eyes of the whole congregation still following their every movement. "Yes, until then…" he lowered his head and kissed her, like it was the first time, like it was the last time, like no one was watching.

The end