TITLE: Compromises in the great outdoors.
AUTHORS: Mexx and NQDonne.
DISCLAIMER: All characters property of JKR. Not stealing, just borrowing for naughty fun.
RATING: NC-17. That’s smut, by the way. Go away small children.
FANDOM: HP.
SUMMARY: Future fic; Hermione and Draco apparate to their honeymoon in the Cotswolds.
FEEDBACK: Would be much appreciated… give these two estranged D/Hr writer’s some love, mmkay?

“I would just like to make a little speech –hiccup- to congratulate Hermione and –hiccup- Draco on their wedding.” As Harry began his speech in a drunken slur, Hermione sent her new husband a worried look. Draco looked hopefully towards the door. The guests at the wedding reception looked at each other uneasily; this was Harry’s third speech of the evening and though he was an admirable Wizard, and a courageous hero, he really wasn’t too good at holding his drink.

“’ would have never thought that even after –hiccup- Draco decided that he wasn’t evil after all—”

Hermione sent Harry a warning glare; Draco’s history was something best left in the past, she was really quite happy with her doting, un-evil and rather sexy husband and didn’t need reminding of his immature, evil self.

“—that he and Hermione would have ever gotten together…”

Hermione lent closer to Draco, hiding her whisper behind a kiss to his ear; “I think this is going to get embarrassing… want to apparate out of here?”

Draco moaned under his wife’s kiss, but was more interested in the promise that ‘apparating out of there’ held. It had six months since she’d let him touch her, six months since they’d set the wedding date and she’d gotten some silly idealistic notion in her head that it’d be romantic to wait to have sex again until their wedding night. Six months of begging, and nothing but the occasional hand-job in-between. Draco really couldn’t understand what Harry meant when he said he’d been evil—what Hermione did to him was sheer torture.

But now their wedding reception was drawing to a close, and as the night wore on Hermione was getting more and more amorous. Apparently Draco wasn’t the only one suffering from Hermione’s little idea and quite frankly neither of them could wait to get to their honeymoon destination.

A fraction of a second after hearing her husband’s moan, Hermione slipped her lips from his ear to cover his mouth, licking his lips suggestively.

Draco took this as a sign of her compliance. He apparated with a pop; taking Hermione with him. They ended up just outside the cottage Draco had rented for them in Cotswolds.

"Draco!" She jumped out of his embrace, scowling. "I didn't mean right then!" she sputtered, clearly miffed.

A look of feigned innocence played on his features. "Ahh, love, I'm sorry. I thought you meant to get away from Potter's senseless prattling."

"He wasn't prattling!" she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest in frustration. "He was making a lovely, lovely toast to our future happiness!"

"Hmm, his third, if I recall," Draco smirked. "And though I would have loved to stay to hear his sentiments with regard to my bad, naughty ways, I'd much rather be here, having my bad, naughty way with you."

Hermione rolled her eyes, slightly swayed from her anger by her own desire to do bad, naughty things with him. "Draco, that's not the point. I didn't even get to say goodbye…"

"Hermione, love, they're our friends - we'll see them again."

"I wanted to throw the bouquet, it's tradition," she whimpered, frowning.

Draco sighed and walked over to her, placing his arms on her shoulders. "It's okay, Hermione. We know who's going to be married next, anyway."

She raised her eyebrow sceptically, "Do we now?"

"Oh, yes," he declared, pausing to take her up in his arms so he could walk her across the threshold. "Potter and Weasley have been eyeing each other for months now."

Hermione frowned as she put her arms around his neck for support. "That's funny," she mused, "I thought Ginny was with Neville, last I checked."

"Who says I'm talking about Ginny?" He grinned devilishly.

"You're horrible!" She pawed at his shoulder playfully.

"Yes, quite," he started off towards the door of the cottage.

“But Draco--” she jokingly sulked, catching his arm and forcing him to spin around and face her.

Draco practically growled; there was no force on the earth—wizardly or otherwise—that would stop him from marching his wife into their honeymoon suite and shagging her senseless. “What?”

Hermione paused, pouted, and then shrugged nonchalantly.

Draco strode toward Hermione and wrapped his arms around her. He couldn’t help himself; they hadn’t even gotten in the door and he couldn’t wait, his lips sought out hers and kissed her passionately, delighting in her wonderfully familiar taste. His tongue slipped into her mouth slowly, enjoyed the path between his lips and her own. “Can you honestly say,” Draco asked, drawing momentarily away from her lips, “that you’d rather be listening to Potter’s drunken ramblings than here…” he dropped a singular and gentle kiss on her lips, “with me?”

His answer was Hermione’s lips fusing against his; hot and sweet and tasting of peach from her pearly lipstick. “Let’s go inside,” she muttered hastily.

The door to the cottage took some opening, a result of neither of them being able to draw themselves away from each other for a second. Eventually Draco threw the key into the hedgerow in a fit of annoyance, and opened the door by use of his wand.

Only once the door was open did Draco release Hermione’s lips. Eyes wide and breasts rising and falling with every shaky breath Hermione allowed Draco to whisk her into his arms and step over the threshold to their honeymoon home. She barely spared a look at the lavishly decorated rustic cottage, simply motioned for Draco to carry her towards the stairs, speaking only to warn him not to tread on the train of her ivory gown.

Draco ambled slowly towards the landing of the stairs, pausing every few seconds to lose himself in her kisses. Despite her warning, Draco had a lot of trouble avoiding her train as he began to climb the stairs. The fabric was sheer and slippery, and Draco pitched forward, still managing to settle Hermione gracefully on the step in front of them.

Her first reaction was one of anger, as she didn't want to see her dress ruined, but she then drifted into a pleasant state of amusement. She rolled her eyes at his clumsy display, crossed her arms, and laughed at Draco - still trying to untangle himself from the folds of her gown.

"Fuck this," he erupted in frustration. "Turn around.” Hermione threw him an indignant look that said 'excuse me?'

He emphasised his point with a withering look and she obliged him. Quickly and deftly, Draco undid the clasps holding her dress together. Once finished, he stepped over the dress that now draped several stairs and offered his hand to Hermione. She took it and stepped out of her dress, proceeding up the stairs in her slip, hosiery, and shoes.

Once they had conquered the obstacle of the stairs, Draco returned to kissing her. During the dress/stair debacle, Draco had begun to sweat and it gave him a sexy musk that Hermione was more than keen to taste. She pulled away from his kisses and went to town on his neck and chest as they made their way down the hallway. As Draco was concentrating on the sensation that her tongue snaking along his collarbone produced and on not falling on his arse as he awkwardly walked backwards, he scarcely noticed when Hermione rid him of his jacket and dress shirt, ripping all the buttons off in the process.

Shirtless and aroused, Draco backed into the bedroom. In the hallway, Hermione divested herself of her tights and shoes before following Draco into their bedroom wearing only her silken underwear. She found Draco lying on the bed; his hair mussed from her wandering hands, and his lips swollen from hers kisses. She surmised she must look much the same.

“God,” he whispered as she sauntered toward the bed, “I’ve missed this so bloody much.”

“Hmm,” she smiled, and crawled onto the bed, the mattress dipping under her weight as she slinked toward him. “I missed this too.”

Hermione’s nimble digits made quick work of the fly on his trousers, and she was soon yanking them down his legs, admiring his near naked body that she’d been deprived of for so long. Kicking off his boxers, Draco tugged at Hermione’s slip and underwear, attempting to divest her of her underwear whilst struggling out of his own.

Both naked now, Hermione looped her leg over his and straddled him; her naked sex brushing over his stomach. Her heart beat heavily in her chest; they were finally being together again after her stupid rule, no more tapered kisses or demure touches with nothing but promises of what was yet to come, this was it; they were husband and wife now, free to be together for the rest of their lives. Draco ran his hands over her torso, pausing to dance his fingers over her aching breasts. She leaned into his touch, moaning softly as her dusky nipples peaked under his touch.

Hermione’s moan morphed into an audible hiss as Draco’s left hand slid down her side to softly caress her hipbone. He knew her body well, every stroke and touch that would make her whimper and moan and shudder against him.

“Hermione, it’s been so long, *too* long… I can’t wait, I…” his other hand slid down to her opposite hip, pushing her upward.

She got the message and elevated herself on her knees, inching backwards so that she was hovering over his erection. They were both breathing heavily, lost in the sensations of each other after half a year of no sexual contact between them, and added to the eroticism of their first time together as husband and wife was almost too much to bear. And as Hermione lowered herself over his shaft they both cried out words of pleasure and love.

He marvelled at the feel of her around him. No matter how much they coupled, and at their peak that was pretty often, she was always delightfully tight. Her inner muscles tightened around his penis, and he realised that if they stayed like this – her on top, him on bottom – he’d loose control.

“Hermione?” He grasped her hips to stop her wriggling about.

“Hmmm?” was all she could manage.

“We need to switch. I need to be on top.” He shot her an anguished look that let her know that he wasn’t being snarky, that he was serious.

She pouted, but conceded. She liked being on top, though so did Draco. Being submissive just wasn’t his bag, he said. They shifted so he was on top of her, controlling their rhythm.

She moaned throatily under his body, adoring the way he could manipulate her body under his touch. It had been so long, and she wanted every part of him. "Oh God... Draco--Oh God. I love you. Draco."

Her moans were well received, and every time she whimpered Draco thrust into her, pushing himself a little further into her core.

Knowing that he wouldn't last much longer, Draco moved his hand from its position on the headboard down to her hip. He lifted her hips slightly, indicating that she should bridge up to allow him to go deeper—she knew every indication he made, and what he wanted her to do. They’d been together long enough to understand each other’s every motion; making love making an art form. Hermione braced herself by clinging to his back, and swung her legs upwards, encircling them around the base of his spine. She gasped as he began to hit home.

His frenzied pumping increased, and Hermione clenched around him, biting her lower lip as his hand left her hip and settled on her sensitive flesh at the crux of their joined bodies. Draco's thumb found Hermione's clitoris and he fruitfully stroked it, slowly at first until he rubbed to match the rhythm he was setting with his hips smacking against hers. Writhing in ecstasy, Hermione returned to her enthusiastic verbalizations of her passion.

"Oh! Jesus Christ, yes… Oh God, Oh Draco. Harder!"

Draco grinned at her talking dirty; for someone so uptight and proper most of the time, she had a bedside vocabulary to envy that of a porn-star.

Her words, her soft body under his and her every tightening muscles were making Draco burn, and at the tightening of his groin Draco knew he wasn’t going to last. He closed the gap between their bodies, his chest pressing hotly against her breasts and his lips lowering to kiss her. As Hermione’s tongue thrust into his mouth Draco felt himself surge inside her, spurting his hot semen inside of her for the first time in far too long.

Draco relaxed when he finished inside her, and continued rubbing her wet and desperate sensitive bud, still relishing the feel of her around him. He continued thrusting into her, though he was spent. Draco was an incredibly generous lover, and he understood that the sex act was not only for his pleasure. Hermione loved this about her husband; she always left their bed satisfied.

Draco increased the pressure on her clit and stealthily inserted his index finger into her, joining his spent member.

"Mmmhhnnn," she moaned at the added sensation. She flashed him a look and he knew that he should continue on this vein. A second finger followed the first and she grabbed at the flesh of his back, marvelling at the feel of being filled.

Her orgasm had been building since the moment he entered her, and the added pressure of his fingers inside her tipped her over the edge. The knot of pleasure burning under her belly exploded in a rupture of bliss inside her as he swiped his fingers over her clitoris for a final time.

Hermione exhaled heavily as Draco slumped on top of her, resting his head on her heaving breasts.

“Oh God…” he sighed, “I missed that.”

"Hmm," she nuzzled his neck, "me too. I love you."

"And I love you," he sighed into her hair.

As neither of them were post-coital talkers and as it was around 2 a.m. (Harry had gone on a little long with drunk ramblings), they soon drifted asleep, their naked bodies wrapped around each other.

Hermione finally stirred as the last remnants of the stars gave way to the first pale streaks of pink and yellow as the sun rose. She untangled her body from Draco's and left their bed and waltzed lazily over to the large Bay window. Small patches of green littered the bleak blue and grey landscape that was partially frozen over from the evening's frost. An icy breeze hit her bare skin as she opened the window, and though she was enjoying it, she shut it once more as she saw Draco stir and sluggishly pull the sheets up around him in his half-waken state.

She smiled to herself. He was hers, forever.

**

Three hours later and Hermione was in the small kitchen attempting to fry eggs. Of all of the things she knew in the world, she was certain Draco hadn’t married her for her culinary skills. Throwing her spatula down in annoyance she sighed and flopped down heavily on one of the dining chairs. At this precise moment in time she’d honestly quite wanted to be in bed, wrapped around Draco’s rather naked sleeping figure, but to no avail; when they’d made the no sex before the wedding compromise she’d promised Draco she’d cook breakfast for him every day of their honeymoon. Little did either of them know she couldn’t actually cook.

Hermione sighed, frustrated. She stood up and turned off the cooker, reckoning that when the eggs start to turn black, they're probably done. A pair of arms caught her from behind and she jerked back in shock, falling further into Draco's embrace.

"Draco, you scared me!" she gasped, spinning around.

He grinned slyly, "That was the point."

"Bastard," she muttered, trying hard to suppress her grin. "I didn't hear you coming down the stairs."

"Yes, you were probably making too much noise cursing over, um, is this breakfast?" he questioned. "I didn't know eggs could look like that."

Hermione frowned. "I said I would cook, I never said that I could."

"That's okay," Draco purred, "I wasn't hungry anyway. Not for food, that is."

Hermione glanced down and realized that he was naked. And *very* awake. She grinned. "Naughty, Draco."

"Hmm," he murmured, shuffling them over towards the kitchen table whilst disrobing Hermione. He frowned once he had uncovered her. "You're wearing knickers."

"Yes," she challenged sarcastically, "occasionally, I do wear knickers. It's a weird thing that people do."

“It's not very erotic though, is it?" he countered.

"I thought all the fun was in taking them off," she looked at him through lowered lashes and licked her lips seductively.

"Too right," he answered her and Hermione felt her backside hit the cool wood of the edge of the table.

Swiftly and deftly, Draco flipped Hermione round so her stomach rested on the sanded edge of the wood. Knowing what they both wanted, she bent over the table and braced her hands on the opposite end. She grinned, resting her head sideways so she could still look at him at an angle. Hermione loved table sex. It was just so… deliciously naughty.

**

“I don’t want to!” Draco pouted, his bottom lip protruding in a boyish manner. “You can’t make me.”

Hermione quite wanted to lick it, but refrained and cocked an amused eyebrow. “It’s just for an hour… We can’t spend two whole weeks in this place!”

“Oh yes we can. Especially if I tie you naked to the bed and…” his voice trailed off and a rather far-off expression took over Draco’s features.

“Honestly,” Hermione muttered to herself, and began extracting herself from under Draco’s body. The remnants of the kitchen table really weren’t the most comfortable place in the world to be lying, especially with ones husband lying spent on top of them.

The movement of Hermione underneath him drew Draco’s mind back from his mental land of fetishes and quite aware that his wife was quite set on getting away from him. “Where are you going?”

“For a walk,” she answered shortly. “Just because you won’t come with me doesn’t mean I won’t go at all.”

“You’re going to leave me alone on the first day of our honeymoon?” Draco asked, aghast.

Hermione nodded, having fully extracted herself from underneath him. She proceeded to walk towards the stairs; naked as the day she was born and to Draco’s delight swaying her hips in a very sexy manner and giving him a wonderful view. “That is,” she added, turning around, “if you’re not going to come with me.”

Draco opened his mouth indignantly, preparing to bitch, moan, and groan, but decided against it and followed Hermione to the stairs. If he was going to go out against his wishes, he could at least get a joint-shower session with Hermione out of it.

**

An hour later they were both showered and ready to go.

"Draco, dear," Hermione instructed, "You should really wear a heavier cloak, it's quite cold outside."

"Malfoy's are unfazed by cold, I'm fine," he scoffed. "And you, Mrs. Malfoy, might do well to discard that heinous wool… thing and dress more like the Malfoy you now are."

"I hate you," she said playfully and rolled her eyes. "I should have never agreed to take your name. You'll never let me live it down. And I *like* this 'heinous wool thing.' You only disapprove because you can't ogle any of my body parts while I'm wearing it."

"You're only saying that because you want me to say how oglable you are," he complained, still rather bitter that he couldn't ogle her.

"You know it's true." She smiled, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the door.

As soon as they stepped outside the door, the cool April wind skirted over them, and Draco resisted the urge to shiver. Instead he wrapped his arm around Hermione's woolly shoulders and pulled her close, insisting it was to be able to hold his sexy, if rather stubborn, wife and nothing to do with the climate.

A further ten minutes down a winding path in the depths of the Cotswolds and Draco whimpered.

Hermione looked at him with mock sympathy. "Cold, are we?"

"No," Draco scowled indignantly. "I'm just aware of how chilly it could get around here." He paused again, and a rather mischievous smile took over his face. "Here, let me hold your hands, would you. If you're forcing us to go on this damnable walk then I want to be touching you as much as possible."

"Ok, dear." Hermione smirked, and let Draco's hands slip around hers, full well knowing the only reason Draco wanted to hold her hands was because her hands were sitting in her toasty pockets.

They walked along the twisting dirt path, each gazing at the breathtaking scenery surrounding them. After a few moments silence, Draco spoke.

"You know, my parents would probably have a heart attack if they knew that I married a…" he hesitated and finished with, "muggleborn." He gave her hand an extra squeeze. She knew that he still had the urge to utter ‘Mudblood’, as for seventeen years it had been a common term for him.

"Well, Draco," Hermione began in a quiet, joking manner, "that's a little hard, as the dead can't have heart attacks."

Only Hermione could mention his parents' death without meeting with an incredibly peeved Draco Malfoy. "Yes," he mused, "but I'm sure they're rolling over in their graves." He broke into a gentle smile. "Sod them."

Hermione choose not to respond verbally. They were past words on this subject.

A moment later she queried. "Why did you do it, Draco? You're breaking with hundreds of years of tradition. You could have married anyone you wanted, why did you choose me?"

"You know why - because I love you," he replied simply.

"I know that, Draco," she sighed, "its just that pureblood families like yours, hell-bent on keeping sovereign blood in the family, usually marry out of convenience rather than love. Sometimes I'm still surprised that you didn't."

"You know, Hermione," Draco soothed, "I may have to reconsider having children with you, as I don't wish to have offspring with this particularly dense streak you seem to be exhibiting."

"Excuse me?" she demanded, incensed.

He chuckled at her reaction, "Don't be such a daft cow, Hermione - I love you, that's why I married you. No questions about it; tradition be damned." He nuzzled her neck playfully, but she pushed him off in mock-frustration.

"How do you know I even want children?" she asked spiritedly.

"What?" he encircled his arms around her waist and pulled her into a hug.

"And give up the chance to piss off all my ancestors any further? Fat chance."

He slipped his hand back into her pocket and they continued their stroll.

“If we had kids,” Hermione smiled, and lent back against Draco, “would your oversized ego be able to handle the fact that they’re gonna be smarter, prettier and a whole lot more ruthless than you?”

Draco gasped in mock offence. “Just what are you implying?”

“Oh, come on…” Hermione smiled evilly, enjoying being able to taunt her husband. “My brains, your *charming* personality. Draco, honey, our kids are going to be better than you in everything.”

“Listen here,” Draco told her, whilst one hand slipped out from hers to cup her flat belly, “Just because the future Draco Junior will inherit both of our fantastic sets of genes does not mean he’ll be any better than me at Quidditch.”

“Draco Junior?” Hermione echoed in disgust.

“Yes,” Draco grinned, “What’s wrong with that?”

“You can’t honestly expect to name our future child after you! And besides, how do you know our firstborn will be a boy?”

"I'm also quite found of Dracila, so no worries," Draco answered her quite seriously.

"Okay: no," Hermione halted her movement and turned around, her hands flew up emphatically, "No child of mine will be named for the Latin that means 'dragon.' Maybe in your twisted 'pureblood wizard' world, but I'd prefer that our children *not* have the crap beat out of them at school."

"So, we should just named them after Shakespeare characters, like that's any better?" Draco challenged her. "I'm pretty damn sure you got far more flack for *your* namesake than I ever did."

Hermione rolled her eyes, not wishing to participate in this petty argument.

"So, let's see," Draco continued his rant, "if it's a boy we can call him something horribly flitty like Hamlet or Mercutio. And should we have a girl, we can just call her, I don't know, Desdemona or Perdita. No, they won't grow up hating their parents, not at all!" Draco finished sarcastically.

"So you think my name is stupid, huh? Flitty? You are *so* not getting shagged tonight, Draco."

“Who said anything about tonight?” Draco grinned, and tried to put his arms around Hermione.

Hermione’s eyes flew open wide. “Not outside!” she squealed.

“Why not?” Draco asked sulkily, and despite Hermione’s feeble protests embraced her, kissing her neck softly.

“Because we’re going for a walk. That constitutes moving one foot in front of the other, and not humping against a tree.” Hermione argued, and pulled away from his kisses.

“But it’s our *honeymoon*,” he complained in a whiney tone of voice.

Hermione groaned and continued walking down the hill, "Suddenly, I can truly picture what it will be like to have your children."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Draco demanded, catching up with her.

Hermione sighed, and linked her arm around Draco's. "Darling, your behaving like a child. And while this is our honeymoon and I love being in bed with you I would occasionally like to get out of the house for ten minutes."

Draco stared at Hermione in horror; the very idea that a Malfoy would behave in any way other than a mature, adult manner was alien to him. "I'm not acting like a child, in fact I think *you're* the one being immature and prudish because you won't shag outside."

“Oh bugger off!” Hermione retorted lamely, and picked up her pace, leaving Draco having to quickstep to keep up with his arm that was laced through hers.

Draco remained quiet as he marched alongside Hermione, allowing her to enjoy the beauty of the countryside while he pondered the best way to coerce her into a quick shag. Finally deciding the best way to get Hermione’s attentions was to let her think she was getting her own way, Draco proceeded to enjoy the walk with her—for the moment, at least.

Temporarily drawing his eyes away from his new wife, Draco found himself staring into an open field, before yelling in surprise; “Why is that bloke peeling a sheep?!”

Hermione whipped her head around in surprise, and followed Draco’s gaze, curious to know just exactly what he was screaming about.

"Oh, Draco," Hermione barely suppressed a giggle. "They're not *peeling* the sheep. They’re shearing the wool from them, to make clothing."

"Muggles clothe themselves in sheep hair? How… common."

"Draco!" Hermione exclaimed, "Where on earth do you think wool comes from?"

"Well, in that case," Draco smiled, and began prying Hermione woollen cardigan from her shoulders, "I really don't like the idea of you wearing *this*"

“Draco!” Hermione shrieked, but didn’t resist the hands that tugged off her cardigan.

Draco smiled against her skin as he kissed the line of her collarbone. He worked his right hand under the hem of her knee-length skirt and inched his fingers upwards.

"Draco," Hermione murmured this time, lightly pressing her hands against his chest.

"Come on, dear, it's perfect - I get a shag and you get the great outdoors." Draco scooted them over a few feet closer to a large tree that lined the dirt path.

"But it's cold, Draco," Hermione whined softly.

"I'm keep you warm," he answered saucily.

"How trite."

"You love it," he grinned and pushed her gently against the tree.

"Mmmm," she finally relented, slipping her arms around his neck. "It's freezing! You're going to have to do an awful lot to keep me warm..."

Draco kissed her neck again, and then backed Hermione against the tree. "I love it when you talk dirty."

"I don't particularly love it when you get my cardigan dirty!" she complained, referring to the moss covered tree trunk.

"Would you rather we went inside?" Draco inquired, pushing Hermione harder against the tree, and slipping his knee between her thighs.

"No, no... You're alright." Hermione threaded her fingers through his hair at the base of his skull, guiding the movement of his head to her most sensitive spot on her neck.

"God, I love you,” he murmured against her skin.

"I know," she answered, smiling. "And I know you love it when I give you direction, too. Lower," she ordered. Draco complied and moved his hand off her abdomen, brushing the line of her knickers.

"You're wearing knickers," he said.

"I thought we already had this conversation," Hermione simpered.

"My stance on the knicker issue has not changed, though."

Hermione grinned as Draco worked his fingers below the band and grazed the damp curls that signified her arousal.

"I'm getting all wet," Hermione declared a moment later.

"Hmmm," Draco moaned against her, "I know, you're so ready for me."

"No, Draco," Hermione huffed in annoyance, "I'm getting all wet - it's raining."

"Oh, that," Draco said matter of factly and went back to worshipping her body with his hands and mouth.

"Draco!" Hermione squealed, batting her hands at him to push him off her. "You may have diminished my morals so much so that I'll shag you outside, but I will *not* have sex in the rain!"

Draco stepped back, his bottom lip protruding almost innocently. He looked at her through hooded lids, "Don't you think it's kind of... sexy?"

Hermione starred at Draco, somewhat bewildered; given time enough she was sure her husband would be able to find something sexy about anything. "No I do not think it's bloody sexy! Beds are sexy, baths are sexy, hell, even shagging against a tree is sexy, but not in the pouring rain when more bits than intended get wet!"

"Well I'm not trekking all the way back to the cottage in *my* state!" Draco complained loudly, indicating his obvious erection through his trousers.

Hermione looked thoughtfully for a moment, before her face brightened in excitement. "What about that little abandoned cottage we walked past a minute ago?"

"That sorry excuse for a shed?" Draco asked, incredulously.

“But against a tree is ok?” Hermione demanded, and although he voice was angry, her eyes were laughing.

“Oh come on, you know you want to,” Draco replied, giving his wife a winning smile.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but smiled. Really, she *had* to concede. Draco was her husband now, and her mother had given her a lecture about the compromises and sacrifices involved in married life. Still, if it was this sort of compromise Hermione would be making for the rest of her life with Draco, she really wasn’t going to complain, especially if she got to be as naughty as she liked, and have Draco be under the misguided, but sweet, impression that sex in the great outdoors was all his idea.

-- finis