Carpathian

Epilogue: One Year Later

- NOT MY WORK ALL CREDITS TO @/niffizzle ON AO3 - 

"Hurry up, Draco! Our Portkey leaves in thirty minutes."

Draco popped his head out from behind the curtain. "You know," he said with a coy smile, "I would have been done ten minutes ago if we had showered together like I suggested."

"Or," Hermione pressed, "it would have taken twice as long because you would have found other things to do while we were in there."

"In which case, the length of our single showers or the length of one double shower would have been equivalent, and I would have gotten to ravish you senseless before I'm forced to endure this wretched evening."

Draco waggled his eyebrows, and Hermione aimed a washcloth at his water-slicked chest. "Don't make me get in there!"

He smirked. "Threat or promise?"

Metal scraped across the curtain rod as Hermione slid it shut amidst his amused chuckles.

"You now have twenty-eight minutes," she said, ignoring the heated flush of her cheeks. "And before you suggest it, no, you cannot Charm us another Portkey if we miss the first one. We will not be late for Ron and Susan's wedding."

The bathroom door shut behind her, hardly concealing Draco's continued laughs. Then again, their Verdellian studio flat was so small, it was impossible to go anywhere without hearing him—not that Hermione would have it any other way. Merlin, she adored that wizard, even when he was being purposefully ridiculous.

A few minutes later, the pounding water shut off and Draco stepped out of the bathroom, towel hung low around his waist. Hermione's attention pulled from their wardrobe as her stomach involuntarily flipped.

"Would you look at that? Hermione Granger still stares at me when I get out of the shower."

Hermione laid her dress robes on their bed and admired her boyfriend. "What can I say? Old habits die hard."

She kept her gaze on Draco, not caring one bit if she was staring. Of course she was staring. How could she not? It was even more impossible not to admire him ever since Draco had gotten his most recent tattoo: a string of vines covering the scar he'd gotten from that curse. It was her favourite tattoo of his... for now. Locked away was the memory of Draco saying that he hoped to one day connect the stars in his mountain tattoo with the constellations after which his children were named. Hermione couldn't help but picture that too.

A year into their relationship, certain aspects of it still felt surreal. The mere fact that Hermione was even dating Draco never ceased to amaze her. Not because of his past—they had long ago moved beyond that aspect of their history— but because she couldn't believe how fortunate she was to have found him again. Sometimes, Hermione wondered about a different version of her life: the one where she hadn't taken Charlie up on his offer to visit the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary. A world in which she and Draco both settled for the lives they thought were enough, unaware that happiness wasn't that far out of reach, if only their paths crossed once more.

They were never more than a few feet away from each other as they finished getting ready: Draco in silk black dress robes, Hermione in forest green. The robes were far more expensive than anything she and Draco could afford on their own, but Narcissa had insisted that they couldn't attend such a high-profile wedding in something they already owned. The final bill from Madam Maulkins had cost more than Hermione's half of their Verdellian and Diagon flats. And while Draco had argued with Narcissa for the countless time that he and Hermione were perfectly happy without her Galleons (especially after the dragon keepers' recent raise), Hermione secretly wasn't complaining. As good as Draco looked shirtless, he was just as irresistible in dress robes.