I was going to suggest to readers that they pop over to read 'Longing' before they started 'Longing Fulfilled', but instead I just posted it here as a prequel.

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The longing Hermione felt inside was sometimes a dull ache, but in this moment, threatened to wash over her like a ten foot wave. The growing intensity was more than she could handle sitting at her desk, so she got up to take a walk.

She worked in the Department of Rights for Magical Creatures, established just two years before and funded by an anonymous donation. But Hermione knew, or at least suspected, just who the money came from. She smiled at the thought.

Leaving the Ministry of Magic during the day wasn't such a big deal, but Hermione's escape attempt was hindered by the waves and greetings of her co-workers and friends. Everyone she knew seemed to be in between her and the door, and for one maddening moment, she considered just turning on the spot to the first secluded place she could think of and deal with the consequences later. Let them think what they wanted.

Hermione didn't, of course, because she's far too courteous, but inside, she was screaming for them to all leave her alone, to just give her a moment's peace, and some much-needed privacy. They didn't know the longing she felt, the memories she wanted to indulge so desperately, so she'd finish with one co-worker, start for the exit once more, when a friend would stop her.

When she'd successfully navigated the halls and elevators, and mercifully reached the front doors, Hermione discovered it was raining.

Perfect.

She walked outside anyway, not bothering to protect herself from getting wet. It was an otherwise balmy afternoon late in July, and Hermione made her way to a nearby park. She took a seat on a wooden bench in a secluded corner.

After looking around to make sure she was alone, Hermione put her head in her hands and closed her eyes.

And she remembered.

She remembered the way he had looked at her. Once was all it took, one look just for her, and Hermione was lost in them. The most beautiful color, unlike any other she had seen before or since. So uniquely him.

She remembered the way one finger traced the side of her face, from her forehead, down her cheek, along her jawbone, and then the feeling when his lips replaced his finger. Never in her life had Hermione trembled at a man's touch. Until then.

The first time his lips touched hers, Hermione thought she'd cry. His kisses were tender and soft, delicate and wanting. She returned his kisses just as hesitantly, but equally full of desire. As beautiful as those were, they soon grew to blatantly passionate explorations.

What followed felt like it lasted a lifetime.

She remembered unbuttoning the first button on his shirt. There was a gasp, and Hermione looked up at him. He'd taken both her hands in his, kissed them softly, and laid her down on the bed. Her hair was splayed out around her, and she felt him shaking as he undid her blouse. She continued to unbutton his, and when she slipped the shirt from his shoulders and touched his skin, she saw him close his eyes.

When he opened them again, Hermione came undone. The raw need staring back at her drew out a visceral groan from a place inside her she'd long suspected existed, but hadn't discovered until that moment.

In fact, she hadn't discovered it. He had.

Somehow, they're clothing lay neglected on a pile next to the bed. Hermione thought how silly it was it had taken them that long to get rid of it.

She remembered how his lips insisted on becoming acquainted with every inch of her. Every inch, from behind her ear, to the back of her knee, from the tip of her shoulder to her ankle. And she quaked when she felt his hands replace his lips.

Just one finger sent radiating pulses wherever he touched, and if Hermione had died at that exact moment, she would not have cared, or possibly not even noticed. Every fiber of her being was focused on the man discovering her body, and how she was fervently looking to return the favor.

Without one word from her, he seemed to sense just that, and smiled at her. He laid on his side, facing her, and she began her journey over the incredible specimen next to her. She was as fascinated as he had been, and quickly learned exactly where and how to touch him.

She remembered the moans that escaped his lips, and wondered if he was even aware of them. It seemed such a primitive response, and Hermione thought she had never heard such an erotic sound in all her life.

When she couldn't resist any longer, she engulfed his most intimate place in her mouth. It was much more than she anticipated in size, but found she loved the feel of him there so much she worked to accommodate him.

She heard him gasp loudly, and looked up to see he was watching her. Hermione's response was a growing warmth, pooling in a place that was aching to know him.

She remembered how she worked on him for a few minutes more, before rolling off onto her side.

For a moment, he stared into her eyes, almost like he was asking permission. She nodded, knowing she never in her life had wanted anything more.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him, and kissed her with wild abandon. There was no going back now, and neither one of them could have even if they wanted to.

She remembered how his fingers wandered through her hair, how from that exact second, he never closed his eyes. He didn't, because he wanted to press these moments into his brain, so he wouldn't forget. He didn't ever want to forget. And he never would.

Neither would she.

She remembered the exact moment he plunged inside her. Her back came up off the bed, and she cried out his name.

He wrapped his arms around her and laid down on top of her. Hermione's legs instantly went around him and pulled him deeper into her.

When he began to move, Hermione's eyes, now dark with passion and need, never left his. They were one now, and long after this night, they still would be. No matter what.

She remembered how it felt when her breasts moved against his chest as he pushed into her over and over. Every thrust sent her already heightened nerves to the edge of endurance, and Hermione was on fire. Sweet, hot, intense flames that would burn, burn for him for years to come.

Hermione lost all sense of time. She began to meet his every move with her hips, and she watched as his eyes grew dark. He worked into her, looking like nothing else in his entire life had ever mattered but this.

He pushed, withdrew, pushed, pulled out, tenderly stroked her insides with his arousal, nearly made her whimper when he pulled back, and shoved inside her with such fervent energy that Hermione no longer had any control of the sounds coming from somewhere deep in her throat.

She remembered the moans and groans and gasps came from both of them as their passion grew to fever pitch. Her whole body was trembling, as was his, and with power she was sure shook the world, he buried his length to the hilt and came inside her. Hermione saw stars, and her entire being quaked as her release took over her.

How long they laid there, still joined, Hermione wasn't sure.

But she did know now that she was his.

And he was hers.

Nothing could ever change that.

Not Ron, not Pansy, not his parents, not his friends or hers.

At that moment, it didn't matter to either one of them they were engaged to someone else. At that moment, it didn't matter than there was no way they could ever be together. At that moment, all that mattered was each other, and this night. It was all they had, all they could ever have.

Or so they thought.

For the rest of the night, Hermione and Draco made love, catching short cat naps to regain their strength. They discovered all they had longed to know about the other, what made Hermione scream, what made Draco call out her name like his life depended on it, and just how much they needed each other.

It was an indulgence neither one could resist any longer, and when the opportunity presented itself that evening, no words were exchanged, no promises made they knew would be broken. They knew all they had was this once chance to share their love for each other, and they took it.

She remembered how the early morning light had started to peek through the curtains, and the tears began to fall. It was nearly over.

It was then, Hermione knew, that her heart would belong to him for the rest of her life. She would marry Ron, Draco would marry Pansy, and life would go on. A part of her wanted to ask him for more, but she loved him enough to keep it to herself. She knew what was at stake for him if he didn't marry Pansy.

The Malfoy fortune had long been tied up with Parkinson's business ventures, and Draco and Pansy's parents had long ago determined their families to be joined by their children. Pansy was madly in love with Draco, but he couldn't have cared less. He was doing it for his family, out of obligation and duty. His heart had long lied elsewhere.

She remembered how he wiped the tears from her eyes, and for the first time all night, he spoke.

“Don't cry, my love.”

“Oh, Draco...”

He pulled her to him and made love to her one last time. It was bittersweet, and Hermione longed for time to stop, to freeze when he was inside of her, kissing her intently, as close as he could possibly be. But fate had other plans, and it was not to be.

She remembered getting dressed, and sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him pull on his shoes.

“I don't want to go either,” he told her, sensing her thoughts, “but we knew it would be this way, didn't we?”

“I know, but there's something I want to tell you before we leave.”

He got up from the bed and walked over to her. His feelings for her were still showing in his eyes, and he pulled her up so she was standing in front of him.

“I love you too, Hermione.”

She pulled him in for the longest kiss of her life, their last kiss. They wanted it to last forever.

“Draco, I love you more than you'll ever know. If you ever need me-”

“I need you every moment, Hermione. But this is all we have, the memory of this night. Every day, wherever you are, know that I love you.”

“Do you really have to move away next month?”

“I think it's best,” he answered honestly. “How do you think it would work out in the long run if we saw each other all the time?”

She looked so sad he thought his heart would break. Never would he have traded last night, for he would cling to the memory of being with the only woman he'd ever loved in the coming months and years.

“But New Zealand is so far,” she whispered as he held her.

“That's the idea, my love.”

How they ever left that room, neither of them can remember. It had to be the hardest thing they'd ever done.

One week later, Hermione married Ron, and a month after that, Draco married Pansy and moved to New Zealand.

She hadn't seen Draco since.

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“Hermione?” a voice asked, bring Hermione out of her nostalgia.

She wiped away the tears and looked next to her to see her best friend for years, Harry Potter.

“Are you alright?” he said kindly, and used his thumb to brush away a stray tear after handing her a handkerchief.

“I'll be fine, thank you. How did you find me?”

“I came by your office to see if you and Ron were coming over for dinner tonight, and someone said they saw you heading to the park.”

“Yes, we'll be over around seven,” she told him.

Silence passed between them, and eventually, Harry reached over and took her hand.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” he asked.

“Erm, not really, Harry.”

“You and Ron are about to celebrate your anniversary. Do you have any plans?”

“Not really. He wants to go on holiday since Quidditch season is over, and he doesn't have to start training again for another month. But I'm not sure.”

“Rose can stay with us, you know.”

“I know, and I'm sure she'd love that. I haven't really decided what-”

“Are you happy with Ron, Hermione?”

His perception caught her off guard, and for a moment, she was stunned into silence.

“It's alright, Hermione. All couples go through ups and downs. Every marriage has cycles, and maybe you're just in a down turn.”

“Maybe...” she said noncommitally.

Not one of her friends ever found out about the night she spent with Draco. Not even Ginny knew about the feelings Hermione had harbored for him, for Hermione knew her friends would never understand.

They had never forgiven him for his part in Dumbledore's death, and even though he had matured a lot after Voldemort died, he was still and always would be 'Malfoy'. Ron loathed him, and Harry could barely tolerate him. No, they would think she had lost her marbles if she'd even hinted at the fact she had fallen in love with him.

She wanted to reminisce how that had happened, but Harry was saying something to her.

“Did you hear me, Hermione? Where were you just now?”

She stood from the bench and smiled.

“In another time, another place.”

Hermione kissed him on the cheek and said, “We'll see you tonight, Harry,” and walked away.

She didn't go back to work, but went home and sent an owl to her boss that she was taking the rest of the day off. Since she had seventeen days of vacation coming, she didn't think he'd mind.

When she got home, Ron wasn't there, so she Flooed Mrs. Weasley, who was taking care of Rose for the day, and asked for Ron.

“He's here, Hermione, but he's out in the garden with George. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yes, I'll stop over in a little while. How's Rose?”

“She's fine, I just put her down for a nap. She's such a beautiful child, but I wish she'd gotten the Weasley hair instead of yours,” Mrs. Weasley laughed.

Hermione smile half-heartedly and broke the connection. She walked to the window and for what felt like hours, stared into nothing.

From the day Rose was born, Hermione wondered in the back of her mind if she was doing the right thing. In true Hermione fashion, she weighed the pro's and the con's of her decision, and once it was made, she promised herself she'd never go back. There was too much at stake.

She had never told a soul that Rose was Draco's child.

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