Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: You guys are so spoiled. I wasn't going to post this but since a) it's almost a holiday here in the states that I have a blessed day off for and b) My story Sins of the Father was nominated twice at the Granger Enchanted Awards, I thought I might as well give something back!

So, first things first. This story is probably going to be a little cheesy and/or fluffy and for that, well, we all need some sugar in our lives occasionally. It will also deal with family and children but since I have a copious amount of children (both mine and those I am a caregiver for) in my life, I tend to lean more towards writing those types of stories. You know, write what you know and all that.

Lastly, this story wouldn't be here without my Huffletwin HufflepuffMommy. She is amazing and lovely and just a peach. She's also nominated for the Granger Enchanted Awards (because she's awesome.) She helped me pick the title for this story which is based off an old euphemism for...well, you'll see...

One

The barkeep set her drink down on the bar in front of her, not even bothering to ask if she needed anything else before walking away, and Hermione Granger sighed heavily. It wasn't that she expected much, she actually quite enjoyed the anonymity that came with being in New York City's wizarding world.

While the news had travelled between continents, her name was far less known here as it was in Europe and her face was even less than that. It was rare that she complained of peace and quiet but in all honesty, she missed the service that sometimes came with being one-third of the golden trio. She smirked to herself and tipped back her drink, looking around the small bar.

She had come to New York on assignment from the ministry, working closely with MACUSA in tracking down some illegally sold dragon eggs. It wasn't even her area of expertise but she was the only one in their department who had even the slightest bit of knowledge of the states and how their magical law system worked and she was also able to understand basic muggle transport. She shook her head, remembering how mad her colleagues had been when she had been asked to go. To them it was a week's long vacation in America. To her it was a week's long business trip.

So when her contact hadn't shown up, twice in a row, Hermione had decided to live a little and had found herself in the small wizarding bar that seemed to be a slightly more upscale version of the Leaky Cauldron. She was currently four drinks in and while the edges were blurry she still felt like herself. She really didn't see what all the fuss about alcohol was.

The thought alone was enough to sober her as she thought of Ronald and the problems that had led to the end of their decade long romance. She hadn't really thought it unfair when she had asked him to choose; her or the firewhisky, she had said. It hadn't taken him long to decide which one he couldn't live without.

So she had left then, staying with friends before she finally found a flat in downtown London. She had hardly had time to move her things in before the ministry had requested her here. She sighed as she looked around at the witches and wizards around her. It was a funny thing, she thought, the difference an ocean could make and she wished, for a moment, that Harry and Ron were here with her to see it.

She shook her head as she realized the absurdity of her statement. While she might be relatively unknown here in the states, The Chosen One was famous everywhere. She had even seen little caricature dolls of Harry when she had visited Japan's wizarding community a few months ago. She had jokingly told him she was going to buy some for him and Ginny's future children and had earned a nice singed eyebrow for that one. She was also joking herself if she thought Ronald would appreciate her current location. Ron fed off of the attention that came with being Harry Potter's best friend. Of course he loved Harry, and her too she presumed, but living so long in the shadow of his older siblings and his extended family had left a bitter taste in his mouth. She assumed it was why he loved the taste of Old Odgen's so much. Anything to forget who he really was.

"Excuse me," Hermione turned then to see a young blonde witch smiling at her, "Is this seat taken?"

Hermione shook her head, hiccupping slightly, "No, go ahead."

The witch smiled, "You're not from around here are you?"

Hermione blinked, "England actually."

"You're accent," the witch supplied with a nod, "you know, you're the second person today I've met from England. Tell me; is it as wonderful as they say?"

Hermione snorted at that and shook her head, "Anywhere is only as wonderful as you make it."

The witch looked downtrodden for a moment as the waitress appeared to hand her a drink but perked up again, "Speaking of the English!"

Hermione swiveled in her chair, her jaw dropping as she caught sight of the man walking towards them.

She had seen him; of course she had, over the years since they had left Hogwarts. She had testified, alongside Harry, for his actions in the final battle and also those of his mother. But seeing him now, as he moved towards her and the blonde witch beside her, was sobering. Whereas Hermione had grown, aging and changing, he looked much the same. She swallowed as she swiveled back around on her stool to pick up her drink and take a long pull. She was going to need it.

"Draco! You'll never believe this! This witch is from England too! Maybe you know-"

"Granger?" his voice asked, cutting off the other woman.

She steadied herself, taking another drink, before she finally turned to face him, "Malfoy."

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

She scowled, "I could say the same thing of you."

"Come on Draco, have a drink." The witch beside Hermione nearly purred and Hermione rolled her eyes before she turned herself back around to the bar and picked up her own tumbler.

Not one to be outdone she could feel as Draco stepped forward, pressing himself up to the bar as the barkeep slid him a drink. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he downed it, slamming the glass back down on the bar once he had finished the contents inside. She forced herself to tune them out as she went back to her own drink, their listless conversation floated in and out and the bits of pieces she did hear just supported her decision not to eavesdrop as the blonde witch cooed over the man beside her. She wondered, briefly, if the witch had any idea what kind of man she was flirting with but she couldn't bring herself to say anything as she downed yet another drink- this time relishing the burn.

It wasn't until the barkeep had handed her yet another drink- she had stopped counting- and his hand reached out, stilling its journey to her lips that she realized the conversation had stopped.

"You're going to drink yourself into St. Mungo's Granger," he said sharply.

She frowned, trying to think of something to say before the man finally sighed and let go of her wrist only to pry the glass from her hand.

"Here," he said simply, setting the glass down to reach into his pocket and pull out a small vial.

She recoiled, "Why would I-"

"It's sobering potion and if you really are as bright as they say you are you'll take it now before that gigglewater kicks in."

She glared as he shoved the bottle into her hand and turned back to his own glass.

She fumed as she looked at the little vial in her hand and her eyes refused to focus, the lines blurred and shifted and the world seemed to tilt and all at once she made the decision as she popped the cork and downed the small amount of liquid in one gulp.

Almost instantly she felt different, the fog lifting from her mind as her hands came back into focus and her head stopped swimming.

"Better?" his voice asked low and gravelly next to her and she looked up at him startled. "My own personal recipe." He explained, lifting his glass to his lips.

She narrowed her eyes at him but said nothing more as the bartender appeared again and she ordered a pumpkin juice without much hesitation and she saw Draco smirk out of the corner of her eye.

"Where did your cohort go?" she rounded on him.

Draco blinked.

"You know, blonde witch seemed willing to do just about anything you asked of her?"

Draco scoffed, "Hardly."

Hermione raised a brow.

Draco smirked, "Okay, perhaps… anyway I don't know and I don't much care to know."

"Didn't seem your type anyway," Hermione quipped as the pumpkin juice appeared in front of her and she picked it up to take a small sip.

"How in Merlin's name would you know my type ,Granger?" Malfoy asked, exhaling as he turned to lean on the bar, facing her entirely.

"Please," Hermione scoffed, "I watched you grow up at Hogwarts, you always had some girl on your arm but you don't think I noticed? Lacey, Marigold, Venatula, Pansy… they weren't stupid Draco. Perhaps not bright but no, not stupid."

Hermione chanced a glance at the man then and was surprised to find him looking at her oddly and she wondered, for a moment, if he had slipped veritaserum in her drink. She quickly dispelled the thought away anyway and went back to her drink as she let the man stew in her words. She wondered if it bothered him, knowing that Hermione Granger knew his tastes. Because she hadn't been lying, all of the girls who had clung to him in school had been simpering idiots but they were clever, intelligent girls who had good marks in their studies. Brains hidden beneath extended lashes and a too straight smile; perfect for finding a pureblood husband.

The thought made her ill.

"Where's Weaselbee?" Malfoy finally said and Hermione merely shrugged. "Really? I thought you would have settled down now, had a few children."

Hermione stiffened at his words, her throat growing dry as she focused on the condensation rings on the bar top below her fingers.

She had always pictured it that way; marrying Ronald, having a child or two with red, curly hair. She was not getting any younger and every day the idea seemed more and more bleak.

"Ronald decided to pursue other endeavors," she finally gritted out.

Malfoy sighed and the silence stretched on before finally he stood up, "I'm- look, I'm making an arse out of myself and- I didn't come over here to argue Granger-"

"Then why did you come? Over here I mean. Why did you stay?" she ground out as she moved to stand, "because you miss home? Because you wanted to see how the infamous Hermione Granger has fared after Hogwarts? Because if so you might as well have just left with the witch from earlier."

"Or, perhaps," Draco said coldly, his voice low and clipped as he slipped out of his own chair, "I was trying to right a wrong of the past. Perhaps I wanted to show you that your efforts weren't wasted."

Hermione blanched, "Right a wrong? It would take a lot more than saving me from my own glass of giggle water to right the wrongs of your past Malfoy."

The man's nostrils flared at that, his chiseled jaw clenching tightly as he stared down at her with his steely gray eyes, "You don't think I know that? You don't think I spend every waking moment of every day atoning for what I've done? We can't all be perfect little witches like you Granger."

Hermione felt the laugh that bubbled at her lips as she stared up at the man, "You think I'm perfect?"

"Perfect grades, perfect record, perfect job, perfect life…" Malfoy amended with a roll of his eyes.

Hermione swallowed, "Bad blood though."

"No," Malfoy said quietly, his body leaning slightly over hers as they stood nearly toe to toe, "I'm sure that's perfect too."

It felt like every sound in the bar had fallen away at that and Hermione searched the eyes of the man before her, looking for what she didn't know but she knew whatever it was she didn't find it. Instead her fingers found his shirt, curling in the fabric as she pulled him down to her, pressing her lips firmly against his.

She would have liked to blame it on the alcohol, the way her body reacted to the man as she pressed herself even further still against him. The ache that settled between her legs as he, finally and blessedly, responded to the kiss. His tongue probed her lips and she greedily accepted it as she parted her mouth and her tongue found his.

"Granger," he whispered against her lips and she breathed heavily as she pulled away, grabbing her things from the barstool behind her and draping them over her arm-tossing some money on the counter top- before she held out her hand.

Malfoy looked at her outstretched palm and then back to her face before finally he grasped her hand and with one final tug she pulled them away.

The little flat that the ministry and MACUSA had provided had been a welcome relief. She knew they could have put her in a wizard inn or- in rare cases- a muggle hotel but the nature of her job in the states meant that her hours were dictated by the job and not by the clock. As such the little studio had been her home away from home the past few days and as they landed she hardly had to think about it as she tossed her things down on the sofa behind her.

She didn't want to stop or talk herself out of what she was about to do so instead she reached up and hurriedly pulled apart the top her blouse, listening as the buttons skittered across the floor and forcing herself not to care in the slightest. Malfoy grinned lopsidedly as he moved forward, cupping her breasts in his hands before his lithe fingers traveled around her back and deftly unhooked her bra. His mouth was on her then, his tongue swirling around her nipples one at a time as he lavished attention on each one and she cried out, arching her back against his mouth.

"Who would have thought," the man said as he raised back up to meet her gaze, "That Hermione Granger- resident swot- would be such a dirty little minx."

"Shut up," she laughed, pushing him away slightly and turning to walk towards the alcove that housed her bed. She didn't- however- stop as she reached up to unbutton her pencil skirt and let it slide down her legs, exposing her backside to the man.

She heard him growl as she finished her walk to the bed but he was already there, ridding himself of his pants before he joined her on the bed, hovering over her.

They didn't talk anymore as he used his teeth to remove her knickers and his own erection was pulled free as he slid out of his boxer briefs. But as he entered her it felt like something inside of her had uncoiled. As though she had been a wind-up toy stuck perpetually in one spot. It wasn't long before he had her coming undone, his tongue lapping at the skin of her collarbone as he held one of her legs around his hip. He followed soon after, his nails digging into the skin of her thigh and the sheets on her bed until finally he rolled beside her. They lay there together, side by side but not touching, in the dark of her flat as somewhere a clocked ticked until finally, Hermione's eyes drifted shut.