A/N - This is just another fun, light-hearted one shot. Enjoy!

The second Hermione Granger stepped out of the floo network at home, she flung her jacket and bag onto the sofa and stalked into the kitchen, kicking off her heels as she went. Fishing a bottle of chilled rosé wine out of the fridge, she poured herself a generous glass and took a decent swig of the liquid before topping up her glass and placing the bottle back into the fridge. After the afternoon she'd just had, she needed something to help her relax.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Her fiancé sniped as he entered the kitchen. "I've just almost tripped over one of your shoes."

"Pity you didn't," Hermione muttered.

"What's gotten into you? You were fine a few minutes ago when we left my parents' house."

"Seriously." Hermione shot her fiancé an incredulous look, hardly able to believe he was so oblivious. "You honestly need me to explain what's wrong?"

"Yes."

"How about your mother for a start."

"I thought you liked my mother," He said with a confused frown.

"I do, but not when she's trying to take over our wedding," Hermione protested.

"She's not trying to take over the wedding," Her fiancé said with an amused snort. "She just wants to help."

"This afternoon was not helping, it was taking over and dismissing my opinions," Hermione retorted as she took another large gulp of her wine. "She was so overbearing this afternoon."

"She's just excited about the wedding," Her fiancé responded with a casual shrug as he fished himself a beer from the fridge. "She's just looking forward to you being part of the family."

"I understand that, but that doesn't excuse the fact she's trying to take over everything," Hermione argued. "Every suggestion I made, she shot down. It's our wedding, and I feel as though I have no say in things. We're doing things the traditional wizarding way and to hell with my muggle origins."

"You know my mother has no problem with your muggle heritage. She just believes in following traditions."

"And what about my family traditions?" Hermione glared at her fiancé.

"What family traditions?" He asked, knowing full well the Grangers had no specific traditions involving weddings.

"Okay, so we've got no traditions exactly, but we could have," Hermione replied. "I'm sick and tired of hearing how things need to be done the wizarding way. Apparently even my taste in wedding dresses is too muggle. Apparently I need something more traditional, and white, don't forget white."

"Why white?"

"To signal that I'm pure," Hermione answered with a roll of her eyes. "Apparently all decent witches get married in white to symbolise their innocence and commitment to their future husband."

"Ah, the virgin thing," Her fiancé smirked. "To be fair when the traditions started most witches were virgins when they married."

"Well I'm not, and everyone knows it."

"I'm sure not everyone knows it," Her fiancé argued.

Again Hermione looked at the wizard she was going to marry as though he had no brains at all. "We've been together for five years, three and a half of which we've lived together, I think people are aware we've had sex."

"For crying out loud, does it really matter what colour your dress is?"

"It matters because your mother thinks she can just take over and tell me what I'm going to wear," Hermione said. "I don't mind her helping, but she's taking over. You have to stop her."

"Stop her?" Now it was the turn of Hermione's fiancé to look at her as though she was the crazy one. "How can I stop her?"

"I forgot I was marrying a mummy's boy who doesn't have the balls to stand up to his mother," Hermione snapped. All afternoon she'd been waiting for her fiancé to stand up for her and interject when his mother was taking over all the wedding plans, but he just sat with his mouth shut and didn't say anything.

"You're more than capable of standing up to her yourself," He snorted in reply. "You're not exactly a shrinking violet, Hermione."

"Thank Merlin one of us has some balls," Hermione sneered. "I mean really, would it have killed you to have told your mother to back off. You had to have seen how annoyed I was getting."

"I didn't want to interfere," Her fiancé replied with a shrug. "I thought it best to let you sort things between yourselves."

"More like you were too chicken," Hermione retorted. "I don't know if anyone's told you this, but you're marrying me, not your mother. I should be the one whose side you take."

"It's not a bloody war," Her fiancé snapped before turning around and stalking back towards the front room.

Hermione stared after her fiancé for a minute, before slamming her wine down onto the kitchen counter and going after him. When she entered the front room, she found he'd settled down on the sofa and had picked up the television remote.

"Don't you dare," She cried, snatching the remote and flinging it across the room before he had a chance to put the television on. "We're not finished."

"What else is there to say?" He asked as he magically retrieved the television remote, although he did have the sense not to use it. "You think I'm a coward, and you hate my mother."

"I do not hate your mother," Hermione screamed, annoyed that her fiancé still didn't seem to grasp her problem. "In actual fact most of the time I really like her. She just needs to back off and realise this is our wedding, not hers. And yes, I do think you're a coward. Any real man would tell their mother to back off and keep their fiancée sweet. I think you're forgetting that angering me results in more problems for you than if you upset your mother."

"Just what do you mean by that?" Her fiancé asked, narrowing his eyes at Hermione.

Hermione smiled sweetly as she leant over to whisper in her fiancé's ear, giving him a perfect view down her top as she did so. "You know exactly what I mean by that. An angry fiancée does not feel like giving her future husband any sort of sexual gratification."

"You're going to withhold sex?" He snorted as Hermione stood back up.

"Maybe," Hermione shrugged as she picked up her jacket and bag. Summoning her hells she slipped them back on and turned back to her fiancé, who was sitting watching her in bemusement. "Don't wait up."

"Where are you going?" He demanded.

"I am going to go and have a few drinks," Hermione replied. "Maybe I can drink enough to make me forget all about my afternoon from hell with your mother."

As Hermione turned to leave, she heard her fiancé's curse of 'bloody hell' as he slumped back in his seat. No doubt he would spend the next few hours working out ways to appease her, while she was going to spend the next few hours seeing just how much alcohol it took to relieve the annoyance she felt at the day she'd just endured.

Just over an hour later, Hermione was sitting in the local bar she and her fiancé favoured. It was a fairly new place that was actually just around the corner to where they lived, and it was so much classier than a lot of wizarding pubs. In fact the place was more like a wine bar, and had an extensive list of cocktails, both magical and wizarding.

Finishing up her cocktail, Hermione ordered another one. Just as the drink arrived she felt someone slide into the seat next to her. Before she got a chance to look up and see who had joined her, a familiar voice ordered a glass of firewhisky and paid for her drink.

"Thanks," Hermione said, looking up into the grey eyes of Draco Malfoy.

"You're welcome Granger," Draco replied. "It is still Granger, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Ah, so I haven't missed the wedding. How was it the Daily Prophet described it last week, the wedding of the decade?"

"Something like that," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes as she remembered the ridiculous article in the paper the previous week.

"What's wrong, trouble in paradise?" Draco asked, a hint of a smirk playing around his lips.

"If you consider the fact I'm going to marry an absolute git trouble, then yes there's trouble," Hermione replied.

"You're only just working out you're going to marry a git?" Draco asked with a laugh. "I could have told you that when you first started dating him back in school."

"Oh, I've always known he's a git," Hermione said. "He's just normally my git."

"So come on Granger, spill," Draco urged. "What's he done?"

"He's a spoilt little Mummy's boy with the backbone of a jellyfish," Hermione spat.

"Ah, parental issues," Draco chuckled. "Let's guess, he chose his mother over you."

"I wouldn't say he chose her over me, but she's trying to take over the wedding and he doesn't see it. He thinks she's just excited to be welcoming me to the family."

"Maybe she is," Draco suggested.

"I know she's excited about the wedding, but that doesn't mean she has to take over the entire thing. I swear, it's like she's the one getting married, not me," Hermione replied.

"And your fiancé knows this?" Draco checked.

"We spent the afternoon with his parents discussing the wedding. He saw first-hand what his mother was like," Hermione answered. "However, every time I looked at him he merely shrugged and gave me a look as if to say, what can you do."

"Prick," Draco snorted.

Hermione chuckled at Draco's response as she finished off her drink. "That's a pretty strong opinion."

"He's an idiot," Draco said firmly, before breaking off to order a fresh round of drinks. "Everyone knows, you keep the witch you're going to marry on side. Especially if she's a stunner like you."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Malfoy," Hermione said with a smile as she picked up her new cocktail.

"I'm just being truthful," Draco replied with a shrug as he picked up his own drink. "Your fiancé is a complete and utter idiot. He should be making sure you're his priority."

"Is that what you would do?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Draco answered with a nod of his head. "I would put you ahead of my mother any day of the week."

"Really?" Hermione asked with a disbelieving laugh.

"Really," Draco confirmed, his tone of voice leaving Hermione in no doubt that he was serious. "I'd make sure the woman I loved was always my top priority. If your fiancé's got any sense, he'll be working out a way to make it up to you."

"One can only hope," Hermione said.

"You don't think so?" Draco queried with a raised eyebrow.

"I would like to think my fiancé is planning some sort of big romantic gesture in the hopes of getting back into my good books, but you can never tell with him. He's very unpredictable."

"Maybe's he's working on a grovelling apology."

"I don't need a grovelling apology," Hermione replied with a sigh. "What I need is to know, is that I'm his priority. I need to know he won't sit back and let his mother take over our wedding."

"And what are you planning on doing in the meantime, just sit around drinking until he shows up and tells you that you mean the world to him and that he'll tell his mother to back off?"

"Sounds like a plan," Hermione replied. "Unless you have any better ideas."

Draco gave Hermione a wide smile as he finished off his firewhisky and placed the glass back on the bar. "I have a much better idea. Come with me and I'll show you a good time."

"Why does that sound like such a naughty idea?" Hermione laughed as she knocked back the remains of her cocktail.

"Because it is," Draco replied with a smirk.

Getting to his feet, he held his hand out for Hermione to take. Hermione looked at the offered hand for a minute or so, before deciding to be spontaneous. Taking hold of Draco's hand she allowed the blond to pull her to her feet and drag her out of the bar. Once outside the bar, he pulled her into his arms and they disappeared into the night with a sharp crack.

The second Hermione's eyes fluttered open she realised two things, firstly she had a hell of a hangover and secondly she wasn't in her own bed. Trying to ignore the pounding in her head, Hermione gingerly sat up and looked around the room she was. She was in a lavishly decorated bedroom, and she was currently sitting naked in amidst a sea of black silk sheets. As she continued to look around the room, Hermione's eyes fell on a glass of water and a vial of pale blue hangover potion beside the bed. Reaching for the hangover potion, she downed it in one and used the water to get rid of the bitter aftertaste. Within seconds the potion began to work and Hermione felt her head clear, she also began to piece together the previous evening.

As her headache receded, Hermione remembered the afternoon from hell she'd endured with her future mother-in-law. She then recalled the argument she'd had with her fiancé, and the fact she'd stormed out and set about drowning her sorrows in the nearby bar. Hermione could then remember Draco joining her and the pair talking before she impulsively let him whisk her away on the promise of showing her a good time.

Hermione couldn't help but blush slightly as she remembered the good time he'd shown her. After leaving the bar, he'd taken her to a private nightclub. The whole place had a very seductive feel to it, and they'd ended up dancing incredibly close for a couple of hours. By the time the dancing had turned to kissing and heavy petting, Draco had brought her back to a penthouse that overlooked the city.

Hermione could vividly remember admiring the views from the large windows in the front room. She could also remember, Draco undressing her and taking her as she was pressed up against the window, looking down on London. From there they'd entered the bedroom where they'd spent several hours making love in various positions, until they fallen asleep from exhaustion. Just thinking about the previous night's exertions made Hermione aware of the slight aching in her body. Even if she hadn't been able to remember the mind-blowing sex, she would have known it had happened just by the ache of her body.

For the first time, Hermione began to wonder where Draco was, since he wasn't still crashed out beside her. As if thinking about him summoned him up, the door opened and there he was large as life, naked and carrying a breakfast tray.

"You're awake," He said with a happy smile. "I take it you found the hangover potion."

"I did," Hermione replied as she pulled the covers over her bare breasts. "Thank you."

"Thank you," Draco said as he placed the breakfast tray on the bed next to Hermione.

"What are you thanking me for?" Hermione asked with a frown.

"Last night," Draco replied. "I'm not really sure I deserved to have such a good night."

"You earnt it," Hermione said. "Providing of course you meant what you said in the bar."

"I did," Draco confirmed with a nod. "I was a prick, and an idiot and other name you want to call me. I meant it when I said you were my world. You mean more to me than anyone else, and I'm sorry you felt otherwise."

"I guess I might have overreacted slightly," Hermione admitted with a small smile.

"No, you didn't," Draco said, shaking his head. "You were right, Mother was trying to take over and I need to make her stop. I promise, I'll talk to her and make her back off. This is our wedding, and we're going to have the wedding we want. From now on we're going to make the decisions, not her."

"Just don't be too hard on her, Draco," Hermione cautioned. "I don't want this causing any future problems. As I said, most of the time I love your mother, it's just too much at the minute."

"She can be overbearing at times," Draco admitted. "But don't worry, I'll handle it with diplomacy. I'll get her to back off, and I'll make sure not to offend her."

Hermione smiled as she reached out and gently pulled Draco down onto the bed with her. Being careful not to spill the breakfast tray, she leant over and gave him a kiss. What started out as a gently kiss, soon became more passionate, and things would have escalated if Draco hadn't put his hand right on the toast and gotten his hand covered in raspberry jam.

"Damn it," Draco cursed, looking down at his hand in disgust.

Hermione threw her head back and laughed as her fiancé stalked off to the bathroom. By the time he returned, she was sitting with the tray on her knee, enjoying her breakfast. Joining her on the bed, Draco grabbed a piece of toast that hadn't been squashed by his hand.

"So, I take it I'm forgiven," He said.

"Yes, just don't do it again," Hermione replied.

"I won't put anyone before you ever again," Draco promised.

"Good," Hermione said with a nod. "Although I have to say, I did enjoy your novel apology."

"I never quite meant for it to happen like that," Draco chuckled. Although he had enjoyed the slight role play they'd indulged in the previous evening. "I just came to apologise, and before I knew it we were conversing as though I wasn't your fiancé."

"I had fun," Hermione replied with a grin. "Although I do have one question."

"What?"

"Where the hell are we?"

Draco frowned, momentarily puzzled, before he remembered that they weren't at home. "We're in one of the company penthouses. Given what was going on last night, I didn't want to just take you home, I thought it might spoil the mood."

"You wanted to carry on with the naughty fantasy," Hermione deduced.

"Hell, yeah," Draco agreed with a smirk. "It was hot."

"Especially the window bit," Hermione agreed, a naughty twinkle in her eye.

"Fancy a repeat performance in the daytime?" Draco asked. "The views are just as stunning in the day."

"I don't know," Hermione said with a pout. "I really should be getting home, my fiancé will be getting worried."

Draco grinned at Hermione as they slipped back into their roles of the previous night. "After the way he treated you, he deserves to worry. Make him sweat, Granger."

"Oh, I intend to," Hermione promised as she placed the breakfast tray to one side and slid out of bed. "Now, does this place have a shower?"

"Allow me to show you around," Draco offered. "I'll give you the guided tour."

"That sounds like fun," Hermione purred as Draco took hold of her hand and led her into the bathroom, ready to continue their pleasurable activities of the previous evening.

The End.