Sitting in front of the crackling fire, the heat warming her face as she snuggled under a blanket, Hermione let out a long, contented sigh. She had been looking forward to this break for weeks, but she knew it would take a while for her to come down from the stress of the rest of her life. Staring into the glowing flames, Hermione felt herself slip into an almost meditative state as she tried to let the fire melt the last vestiges of her worries away.
Work had been intense lately, for both of them. Hermione had spent months – years, really – campaigning to be Minister for Magic, and the realisation of her dream, while wonderful in many ways, had resulted in a busier schedule than even Hermione had been prepared for. In fact, on more than one occasion in the six months since she had taken over the top job from Kingsley, Hermione had found herself wishing they hadn’t smashed the Ministry’s entire collection of Time Turners back in fifth year. If it hadn’t been for Draco taking over responsibility for the majority of their personal life, in addition to his responsibilities as a Senior Auror, Hermione knew she would be drowning. They had decided to take a weekend away, to spend some time just the two of them before the inevitable chaos of the Christmas period.
As though her thoughts had summoned him, Draco walked into the living room of the cosy log cabin, a smile crinkling his eyes as he caught her staring at him. Even after more than fifteen years together, there were moments when the reality that he was hers still took her breath away. As he took a seat next to her on the comfortable sofa, he handed her a steaming mug. Hermione mumbled a thank you before inhaling the intoxicating smell of the spiced wine, the woody scent of cinnamon and cloves, and the citrusy orange, blending perfectly with the fruity scent of the wine. Taking a sip, Hermione savoured the flavours bursting over her tongue.
She made a contented sound as Draco pulled her towards him, angling her body so that she had a perfect view out of the floor to ceiling sliding glass door. It was early November, and the sky outside was dark, lit only by the soft glow of a lamp.
“Look, my love.” Draco whispered as one of his hands snuck around her waist to pull her even closer to him.
Hermione let out a small gasp, as the first flakes of snow started to fall. It was late Autumn, still quite early for snow, but in that moment, with the cosy warmth of the fire, the scent of wine and the comforting presence of Draco at her back, it felt perfect. Magical, Hermione thought to herself with a small laugh.
Turning her face towards Draco, she captured his lips in a spicy kiss that sent a new kind of warmth fizzing to every part of her body.
It had been more than thirty years since Hermione discovered she was a witch, but moments like these still made her appreciate the magic of everyday things.
She snuggled closer and looked back out the window. Perhaps it was best the Time Turners were gone. To protect time… because today, she wouldn’t change a thing.