A late fall rendition of Shakespeare's Romeo & Juliet just let out and Andrew was in the midst of receiving a parting hug from a stunning red-headed woman...err.. witch who had kept their group cozy with a warming charm in the open air theatre.

Witches and wizards, Andrew soon discovered, were quite handy to have as friends. Though Andrew didn't believe he wanted magical power himself, he did enjoy the benefit of their unique abilities. And when he found himself completely gobsmacked by anything they did or discussed, Andrew coped by pretending Hermione and her mates hailed from some lovely foreign country. This was especially helpful when one of them did anything that was particularly... charming.

Ginny Weasely waved goodbye as she snuggled up to Harry Potter. Harry had spoken very little the entire evening. His demeanor continued to be one of quiet wariness even months after their first introduction and numerous double and triple dates. Harry's tall red-headed friend, Ron Weasley, however, was an entirely different matter.

Andrew wanted to growl at Hermione's first real boyfriend, who'd just slapped him on the back, telling Andrew to take care of his girl. Andrew barely managed to stop the menacing sound rumbling in his chest, but couldn't keep from putting a fair amount of force behind the hard smack on the back he'd returned to Hermione's first beau as they bid each other farewell.

Ron's latest fling, a nameless Holyhead Harpy, from that wizard sport, Qui-something, seemed to have sensed the growing tension between the men and dragged Ron off to follow Harry and Ginny with little more than a waggle of her fingers as a goodbye.

At their parting of ways on the street just outside the New Globe Theater, Hermione shot Andrew a look.

"Why did you hit Ron so hard?"

Andrew shrugged.

"He didn't mean anything by it, not really. It's just that, I think they're tired of picking up the pieces after my heartbreaks. Harry especially, that's why he won't allow himself to get to really know you until you've passed the test."

"The test?"

"The No Tears for a Year test."

"Malfoy was that bad?"

"Worse, if you can imagine that."

"Well, it's nearly been a year. A couple more months to go"

And it had been. Andrew and Hermione were planning on spending the December holidays with his mum and commuting to see her friends after the 25th to exchange gifts. To Hermione's delight, her parents would be visiting in the New Year. Andrew had already met Hermione's father when he visited London over the summer and they'd hit it off well, much better than Malfoy fared.

It was easier, obviously, since Andrew was what Hermione's dad called, "gallant and real," a lad worthy of his only daughter. Even Malfoy reluctantly agreed that Andrew and Hermione's Muggle match seemed far more magical than the disfunctional romance he and the witch once shared — that is, only after Andrew flatly refused to sign an affidavit that would disallow him from dating Hermione. And somehow managed, instead, to talk Malfoy down enough to allow the final signature to be drawn on the merger papers. The two had worked side-by-side ever since.

"Take care of her, Wright," the blond had said quietly the evening before, when Andrew had told him of his upcoming plans with Hermione. "I never quite managed to. You seem a good match for her even though it's only been—" Malfoy stopped short, uncertain how to finish. He took his time straightening his papers before approaching Andrew who was still seated at the other end of the conference table.

"It will be a year in December, Draco," Andrew had supplied. Malfoy appeared confused for a moment, then somewhat relieved at the time frame Andrew had just given him. "I'd only met her that day— the day we began signing for the merger. You remember."

"And that kiss?"

"Was payback."

Malfoy muttered a scornful, "bloody witch..." then sent Andrew a look that was a curious combination of disdainful approval. "So, Wright, under that good-natured, boy-next-door demeanor, you are a shark after all."

"I am that, if being a shark means going after exactly what you want," replied Andrew.

"Regardless, you seem an honorable bloke. The sort she deserves," Draco allowed. "And despite our close working conditions, I am quite satisfied that Hermione decided to choose you above all else.

"Hermione hasn't been asked to choose yet," Andrew said, tilting his gaze up to stare at Draco. "But for the record, should she truly choose me above all else, I certainly plan on taking very good care of her."

"Good to hear it mate," Malfoy said softly, clapping Andrew's shoulder. "Oh, and by the way, if I hear otherwise, you should be warned that I'll hex you to kingdom come far sooner than Scarhead and the Weasel even begin thinking about doing the same... Just for the record."

Andrew had balked at the crystal clear warning he'd thought only possible from overprotective fathers. Malfoy smiled dangerously and then shifted gears so fast that Andrew had to blink.

"Now, Wright, since you've at last been made privy to the secrets of the Wizarding world– thank you Hermione –Let's talk about replacing those damnable owls with some modern technology." And with that, the inquiry into Andrew's love life was no longer deemed Draco's domain.

An interesting tragic hero this Draco Malfoy, Andrew thought as he now gazed down at Hermione still holding his hand. She was peering up at him, eager to hear him say he understood her friends' overbearing behavior. He caught her lips in a quick chaste kiss to relieve her anxiety.

"Do you ever wonder what would have happened if the heroine chose differently?" Hermione asked suddenly as he slung his arm around her shoulders, holding her close as they made their way to the Tube.

"You mean, how would Shakespeare's story have changed if Juliet jettisoned Romeo and had chosen Paris instead?" Andrew asked for clarification.

"Yes, exactly! Paris, if you think about it, was really Juliet's perfect partner."

"I imagine that had Juliet chosen Paris," Andrew began, "Well, first, she wouldn't have died in some idiot 16-year-old boy's arms. She would have, instead, led a very fulfilling life. She would have grown old with her loving and devoted husband and had a mess of kids, an adoring family and an age old rivalry with the Montagues to tend to."

"But what sort of romantic love story would that be, Andrew?" she pressed, her sable eyes smiling up at him.

"You asked the question, Hermione," he smiled, hugging her closer. "There are no great audiences that pay to watch the ordinary, every day kind of love. All the great sagas tell us that romantic love must be tragic, ending in death and all that. Some think true love can only be proven when it wins against all odds.

"But what if there is no battle to be fought?" he continued. "Isn't there beauty in a quiet sort of love that grows with time and commitment? What of a love that is discovered and matures as the couple does? The sort that believes in forever and works toward making it reality... even without the aid of magic?"

"That sort of love does sound quite heavenly," she sighed, dropping her head to his shoulder while they stopped at the corner to wait for a light. A cloud of steam formed at her mouth. He pulled her coat collar more snugly around the cream colored scarf wrapped around her neck.

"I've something for you."

Her lips quirked at the unfamiliar tone in his voice. So serious.

What was this?

She watched his hand reach into his jacket pocket and pull out a small box tied with a white satin ribbon.

Tiffany blue.

Hermione noticed his hand slightly tremble as he tugged her hand back into his, placing the gift in her palm.

"Open it, Hermione."

She savored the unwrapping of it, relishing this moment and purposely teasing him. The tension in him visible at the pulse point in his neck and the short breaths he took as he watched her fingers fumble with the bow. Hermione lifted the cover of the small velvet box and glanced at what lay inside. She swiftly caught his worried gaze and let out a sigh.

"Oh, Andrew it's..." She managed to compose herself just quickly enough to wave her hand and send out a charm that kept him from falling to one knee on the cold cement sidewalk.

The look of confusion and wonder on his face at having his half-bent knees cushioned by an invisible pillow of air had her laughing lightly. He smiled. "I don't know that I'll ever get used to your many charms, Hermione."

She smiled at the double meaning, still staring at the twinkling diamond ring in the box. With arms outstretched, he toyed with the cushion of air, bouncing lightly up and down in wonderment of the magic.

"Well, even though you've stopped me from striking the proper position, I'd still like to propose in the customary way."

Still resting his knees on the invisible pillow of air, he took her hand in his. She blinked back happy tears as he said, "I'm no legendary savior of the world, no famous magical athlete, nor some rich, pureblooded bastard. I am, however a man who loves you with all my common Muggle heart. And even without the magical power of a wizard I will do everything to make you deliriously happy for all the days of your life.

He watched a glittering tear fall, sliding down her cheek. He reached out to cup her face in his palm. With his thumb he carefully wiped it away.

"That tear doesn't count against Harry's test," Andrew whispered as she let out a watery giggle, placing her hand atop his that was still cupping her cheek.

"I'd like us to try for an enduring love, Hermione. If you agree to marry me, I suspect you and I will discover that the love we share is defined in the living of it and not in the telling. After all, what we've got isn't for an audience. I imagine it will be quite heavenly since everything in me tells me that you and I belong together. And when you get right down to it, I have a feeling that I will deeply adore being the Paris to your Juliet."

She tipped her head at him with a lovesick smile on her face.

"But, Andrew what if this Juliet doesn't like to call out sappy poetry into the moonlight but would much rather cackle, 'Bubble bubble toil and trouble' into an iron cauldron?"

With his face breaking out into a grin he replied, "I suppose I'd be handing you the eye of newt when you asked for it, love."

"I do believe Mr. Wright, that you truly are my Mr. Right. My answer is, 'Yes!' A thousand times, yes!"

Hermione stretched out her arms to him and he gathered her up and swung her around. His mouth claimed hers in a kiss that rivaled all the others she'd ever experienced... and beat them by a mile.

An indescribable joy took flight within her and Hermione was lost in the wonderment of how she felt in his arms— inebriated in a way she imagined one might feel after drinking a lethal combination of Elixir of Euphoria, Amortensia, and Felix Felicis.

This unique and enchanting draught of delight flooded her senses and she recognized it at once as the age-old magic of love that even the greatest wizards still could not simulate. Hermione gazed again into the adoring eyes of her sweet Muggle man, Andrew, who help her discover the charm of this elusive magic at last.

~finite incantantum~