An Indefinite Amount of Forever (A Harry Potter Fanfiction--Dramione)

Still Want to Marry Me?

Draco threw back a nerve-calming potion, the equivalent of Muggle Valium, hissing at the bitter taste that burned as it trickled down his throat.

Good. It made him feel manly and brave, which was exactly the sort of outdated rot Hermione's father valued. He hoped the low dosage would be enough to rally him for tonight. Shaking himself and slapping his face with both hands, he heard the distance whoosh of the Floo downstairs, signaling the arrival of his fiancée.

He ran his hands down the front of his simple gray dinner jacket, examining his appearance in the mirror. Nice, but not too nice. For some reason, it seemed to vex Edward even more when Draco dressed particularly well. Tonight was not about vanity. It was about preservation.

"Hermione and I are getting married," he muttered, practicing as he examined his hair from all angles in the mirror. "Hope that's alright. Sorry I didn't ask beforehand, but you scare the living hell out of me, Dr. Granger."

"Well, aren't you adorable?" Hermione said, leaning against the doorframe. She was a knockout, dressed in a simple, smart navy sheath dress that hugged her lithe figure fantastically. The nude-colored, patent-leather, peep-toe pumps on her feet made her legs appear to go on for miles, petite though she was. She wore a cranberry-tinted stain on her lips that matched her manicure and pedicure.

"You look stunning," he said, examining her with eyes full of admiration and more than a bit of lust. "How do I look?"

She rolled her eyes. "Bee-you-tee-full. Trying to look good for my dad, are you?"

He winced, pulling the sleeve of his shirt down a bit more. "Just trying to set the right tone. Nice, but understated, seems to work best with him."

"You're overthinking this. My parents will be thrilled that their little girl is finally getting married. I think they had resigned themselves to the idea that I was going to die alone, surrounded by feral cats."

"Well, you're the sexiest cat lady I've ever seen, love."

"D'aww. You're such a sweet-talker," she said, straightening the collar of his shirt.

Draco chuckled and brought her hand up to his lips, kissing her palm. "Do me a favor, yeah? When they ask about the proposal, maybe leave out some parts."

"What parts?"

"Pretty much all of it. I don't think your father needs to hear about 'daft cow' and the subsequent beach sex."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And the subsequent-subsequent living room floor sex?"

Draco smirked. "Not to mention the even more subsequent shower sex."

She giggled. "What should I tell them, then?"

He smirked and circled around her back, shifting her hair to one side. "Give them the details of how it was supposed to go," he said, nuzzling her neck.

"Mmmm," she hummed, leaning into his touch. "And how exactly was that? You never told me how you had planned to do it."

He nipped her ear. "The best chef in Capri was coming over to prepare a private dinner, which we would have had on the balcony overlooking the sea at sunset," he said, tracing his lips up her neck. "There was a nearly priceless vintage of champagne I had stored in the cellars which would have paired beautifully with the most delicious tiramisu you'd ever tasted. And afterwards I would have gotten down on one knee, pulled out this ring," he rubbed her left ring finger, bearing the stunning diamond, "and told you that you rekindled a part of me that I thought no longer existed. That I loved you beyond comprehension and that I couldn't bear the thought of living the rest of my days without you as my wife."