Fore Play (Dramione)

Epilogue

Mr Draco Malfoy

The honour of your presence is requested at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on the morning of May 2nd to attend the 22nd Annual Remembrance Service.

The ceremony will take place at eleven o'clock in the Great Hall in remembrance of all who fell during the Second Wizarding War.

Guests are to arrive at ten o'clock sharp. The ceremony will begin at eleven o'clock and will end promptly at one-thirty. Light refreshments will be provided afterwards.

Please R.S.V.P. A.S.A.P.

Kindest regards,

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall

Anthony Goldstein, Events Organiser and Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

Draco tossed the invitation onto the table and stretched out on the lounger, staring out at the Perthshire mountains, deep in thought.

"You think you'll go this year?" asked Hermione, peering at him over the top of her book. He shrugged noncommittally.

"We turned up to the last one, but I don't think it's realistic to expect us to attend every year."

"They always expect Harry to," she mused darkly.

"Well, then thank Merlin you're not Harry," he smirked, giving her the once-over. "For more than one reason."

Hermione rolled her eyes and returned to her book, propping her feet up on to Draco's lap. He began massaging her feet and continued, "He should just tell them to bugger off. It's the Easter holidays - why should we all disrupt our trip for something we don't even enjoy?"

"I quite agree," she replied lazily. "I'd much rather spend the anniversary up here in the company of everyone that I love."

"Are you talking about me, your friends or the golf course?" laughed Draco.

"The golf course, obviously," she replied lightly.

The hotel door opened with a crash and two boys streaked towards them.

"Dad!" shouted Scorpius skidding to a halt in front of his father, Albus close behind. "Mr. Potter is organising a Quidditch match down by Loch Earn this afternoon and everyone is going to be there!"

"Uncle Ron and Aunt Cho - Mum and Dad are playing too," added Albus eagerly.

"Can I play with them?" asked Scorpius desperately. The sound of more feet drew their attention to the bedroom door which had been left ajar, and two more people jogged into the room, taller and darker-featured than the boys.

"Mum," breathed Polina. "Did Scorp tell you?"

"About the match? Yes," Hermione nodded resting her book on her lap. "I expect you both want to play?"

"Can we?" asked Mikhail keenly.

"Yeah Dad, can we?" asked Scorpius again. The children began chattering over one another, but they fell silent when Hermione raised her hand to get their attention.

"You can play," Hermione began and the twins high-fived. "But only if you both complete your Potions homework before the match."

The twins groaned, but Hermione spoke over their protestations, "And I'll be checking your homework's up to scratch before you step one foot onto the pitch. Understood?"

"Yes, Mum," chorused the twins miserably.

"Well, you better get to it if you want to get your homework done in time for the match," she said shooing them away. "Off you go, now. Come see me if you need any help."

"Will do," waved Polina and she slunk out of the room with her brother. Scorpius stood waiting patiently for his father's response, hopping up and down on the balls of his feet.

"So, can I play?"

"Have you done all of your homework?" asked Draco, already knowing the answer.

"Yes!" Scorpius nodded. Draco smiled.

"Then yes, you can play."

"Yes!" hissed Albus triumphantly. Scorpius hugged his dad tightly.

"One more thing," added Scorpius excitedly pulling away and standing up straight. "They want you to play, too! Please say you'll play, Dad. You're always saying you're a better flyer than Mr. Potter and I want to see you beat him!"

"Yeah, it would be hilarious!" laughed Albus. Draco looked inquiringly at Hermione and an unspoken understanding passed between the two of them in that moment. Draco knew that Hermione wasn't keen on him playing Quidditch - for obvious reasons. However much Draco may relish the chance at a rematch against Potter on the Quidditch field, he wouldn't do it unless Hermione felt confident enough that he would be safe. Hermione's peace of mind was worth more than a silly game of one-upmanship.

But Hermione gave him a curt nod, one that said, It's okay. Draco grinned and turned to Albus, "Tell your Dad that he's about to get his arse handed to him."

"Draco!" chided Hermione, kicking him lightly on the thigh with her foot, but he just laughed.

"Alright, tell him that I would be delighted to beat him on the pitch this afternoon."

The boys cheered and sprinted back out of the room and out of sight. Draco gave Hermione's foot an affectionate squeeze, "Are you sure it's alright if I play?"

"Yeah, it's fine," she assured him. "I still hate Quidditch and I'll never understand why everyone is so obsessed with it. But I don't have to understand it or like it. You guys go and have a great day and I'll just catch up with you this evening for dinner."

"Aren't you coming to watch?" he asked curiously. Hermione scoffed.

"Certainly not. I'm going to take advantage of the peace and quiet and get in a game of golf."

Draco laughed and Hermione settled herself more comfortably onto the recliner and went back to reading her book. The irony wasn't lost on her, of course - that it had been a snitch golf ball that had thrust Hermione and Draco back into each other's lives.

Hermione Granger still hated Quidditch. But she loved Draco Malfoy more.