Simple Kind of Life: The Sequel to 'Bathwater'.

With growing intensity, one that was so luminous and brilliant on its own, rays of sunlight rose in from the heavens and sent its warming gleams to penetrate everything in sight; including the open windows of the houses before it.

And in through a certain window, one with a thick emerald curtain hanging loosely by the window-frame, the sunlight crept in with ease. It found its way into the small gape the emerald curtains made and into the master-bedroom of the muggle home. It slithered in and flew up an inch, rising up towards the sliver sheets of the grand bed; stopping for a few seconds as an unconscious body laid on the floor caught its attention instead. But deciding against it, it continued flying up the sheets without giving the body a second thought.

And there in a tangled mess of those silvery sheets and claiming territory of the entire bed, the sunrays laid perfectly neutral on the face of a different body coming to life.

Bright and wide brown eyes blinked abruptly; waking up as soon as a small glint of light invaded their sleep.

"Aperio." With a groan and a hand rubbing those eyes, the emerald curtains of the grand room burst open to the sides of the windowsill; illuminating everything inside of it with great pleasure as the rays hurried their way past each other.

Feeling the warm wash of the sun on their skin, the brown eyes fluttered for a few seconds and then directed themselves to the body on the floor. Annoyance grew fast behind those orbs. "Wake up, you git," the woman said, a frown taking over her face. "Wake up!" she repeated a little louder.

And if almost on cue, the body on the floor sprung upward into a seating position. Stormy eyes opened wide with fear, worry, and irritation. "What — What's going on?" It croaked, a wand was whipped out from the pillow beneath the body's head and it was being pointed at every direction in the master bedroom.

"It's time to get up," the woman said, her face still in a scowl.

Throwing one look of deeper irritation after the lack of threat became obvious, the face that belonged to those gray eyes frowned and proceeded to close its eyelids once more; landing back on the tousled sheets on the dark carpet with a light thud.

"Honestly," the woman sighed, her brown eyes flicking towards the alarm clock laying on the nightstand on her right. With the same wand that allowed the rays of the sun to witness the little interaction, even allowing a glimpse of it to the gossiping skies and nosy clouds, the woman pointed it to the muggle-contraption inside her room.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

And once again the body on the floor flew up; this time on its feet with the scowl even more pronounced on his pale, pointed face. "Alright! Alright!" He growled, rubbing his grey eyes as the mocking sunlight pierced his vision. "...Bloody menace."

Hearing those mumbles underneath his breath, the woman smirked at the blonde man with self-satisfying satisfaction. "Oh, darling, you're up. Did I wake you?" Sarcasm dripped and the sunrays rose higher in applause; drenching themselves more through the gap in the window. "I'm so sorry, you looked so comfortable on the rough floor. Please, forgive me."

"You're a ruddy evil witch, you know that?"

"Perfectly, Malfoy," the woman smirked even more, gracing her bright eyes with a smug tint. "I mean, it comes in handy after fifteen years of mindless torture at your side."

The blonde wizard frowned, folding his arms across his pale, naked chest. "Is that so, Malfoy? Because, believe me, it hasn't been all chocolate frogs and rainbows for me."

The brunette grinned. "Well, the job description never came with rainbows and promises, Draco. You certainly know that, right? Especially with the miserable fate you gave me."

Frowning roughly with his nostrils flaring in his thick fury, Draco Malfoy walked his way towards the grand bed, lowering his fists onto the silver-sheet covered mattress. He leaned forward and glared at the woman on his bed, "don't think that I've been having the time of my life either, Granger."

"Granger?" The witch scoffed, unmoved by Malfoy's piercing gray eyes. "Stupid comeback, you ferret."

"Gone back to old nicknames, eh, Bookworm?" The man hissed, leaning more towards the middle of the bed.

"Dunno," the brunette replied indifferently, "are you going to stop coming home late at night, drunk off your ass?"

"Are you going to stop tossing me to the floor every time I do?"

"Will you stop being a complete idiot when I'm trying to sober you up?"

Groaning, the blonde man dropped himself on the mattress. He started mumbling a few curse words as a pain ached at the sides of his head, the reminder of the after effects of drinking for six hours at a shady pub in Knockturn Alley coming back to the surface. "I hope Zabini got a worse punishment than I did," he grunted as he turned over on his back, silver eyes looking up at his wife as she rolled her dark ones in annoyance.

"You just slept on the floor, Draco," the woman responded, turning her body around and laying herself on the bed; their heads touching at the corners of their foreheads as they looked at opposite ends of their bedroom. "Give thanks to Merlin that I'm a kind person and didn't make you sleep in the garden and turn on the sprinklers late a night and watched you beg to open the door when you were trapped from apparating inside because of the nosy neighbors gawking at your shame."

"You aimed a hex at me, Hermione, when I tried crawling into bed," Draco reminded her, feeling the slight sensations of electric shocks running inside his system still. "Remember?"

Hermione laughed, sighing with the memory of her husband's shocked face as she aimed the Stupefy spell at him. "Highlight of the day, if I may say."

Muffling another crude, colorful word, Draco grunted. "...Do you really think you're living a miserable life with me, Hermione?"

Her ears perked up to the hesitant whisper the man gave to her, rolling her eyes as she heard some attempting-to-be silent footsteps outside of their room. "Have I not given you a life full of chocolate frogs, rainbows, and even pumpkin pasties?" She turned around so her light-toned face was an inch from his, her eyes meeting his chin and her chin meeting his forehead. "Hmm?"

"It...has been a sweet life," Draco said with a blank expression, reaching up to place his hands around her neck. (Softly, of course. The years where he wished he could choke her with his bare hands seemed like ages ago. He would only handle her aggressively when she would ask, or when they were in a very commanding situation. But even then, nose off, Draco Malfoy handles his woman as he pleases.)

"How sweet?"

Grinning as he felt a shudder of delight crawl on the exterior of his skin by her tone, Malfoy traced his hands down from her neck and towards her shoulders; gripping her with a quick wink of his left eye and then flipping her over. Carefully maneuvering her so she could do a skilled front flip with a bit of a twist, she landed on him with a giggled 'uff' and a slap to his face for such act. (Now, who ever said Draco Malfoy was not skilled in his bed? He knew more tricks than Dumbledore and his Elder Wand.)

"Idiot—" Hermione's complaint was silenced when a pair of lips came pressing down on hers. A pair of soft, warm hands finding their way down to her waist, rubbing thumbs across the silky material of her nightgown; giving her sides a squeeze as she pressed herself into her husband. Forgetting her anger of his previous drunken night and the stunt that could have broken her back, Hermione snaked her fingers into his platinum blonde hair. She tugged at the edges like it was the very first time; as if fifteen years had not gone by since the Marriage Law was passed and she was doomed to tie her life with the greatest bouncing ferret the Wizarding World had ever seen.

She kissed him with as much force, as much passion as the first time she pressed her lips to his, except this time she wasn't blaming it on Nargles. It was a kiss that has been sending her soaring through her personal heavens for fifteen years. An action that always led to the most caressing of touches, to the most careful of clutches, to the most blissful waves of pleasure. The most wanton of kisses among husband and wife; the most lustful of kisses between Gryffindor and Slytherin.


"—Well, well, when did you get a tattoo?"

Freezing their hungry lips and fast-moving hands, Draco and Hermione Malfoy moved their contrasting eyes to the sudden words that filled the room; interrupting the grunts and silent incoherent words from the married couple.

"Does Scorpius know you have his name tattooed on your lower back, 'Mione?" Sneering like a true snake—even though he couldn't be considered one for almost two decades—a man with emerald eyes and beautifully dark skin batted his eyelashes mockingly at the pair tangled into each other. "On your lower, lower back?"

Grunting as she pulled the black nightgown, that Draco had bought her for a special occasion, down to cover her exposed skin, Hermione pushed her husband off of her settling body. "This is right about the time it stops being so sweet, Malfoy."

"I gave you the option of moving far away, remember?" The blonde wizard retorted, ripping the tangled silver sheets from the end of the bed and towards his body to cover up his perkiness. "There was nothing wrong with Greece or Alaska, but you chose to stay close to the 'family'."

"Now, now," the interrupter clucked his tongue, shaking his dark hair at the bickering going around. "Before either of you can get into a debate of how much you love and can't live without me, I must say that's not the worst I caught you in, remember?"

"What do you want, Zabini?" Hermione asked too rudely, trying not blush at the memory of the man's wide eyes and his screaming of seeing a certain part of Draco's body that he hadn't seen since Theodore Nott and Marcus Flint tossed them into the Black Lake in nothing but their family jewels a long time ago.

Blaise shrugged, his green eyes looking at the floor as he scoffed his shoe on the rug beneath his feet. "…I just wanted to see if Drake could come out and play."

The brunette woman furrowed her brows, turning slightly to the blonde wizard sitting next to her for any input. It didn't come. She turned back to Blaise with an annoyed frown. "Why are you here?"

"Cho threw me out." He shrugged, still looking slightly dramatic with his feigned innocence. "I went to ask if Potter could come out, but Ginny said he was not to come out of the house but only for work and later on today to the train station. He's grounded."

"Did you try Weasley?" Draco asked, feeling slightly better about the whole incident with his wife earlier today. (Who would have guessed? Hermione Granger a good witch? Ha!) "Pansy usually lets the git slide by with anything."

Blaise huffed silently to himself in despair. "She sent him to mother's," he informed as he looked up at the couple through his eyelashes. "Mrs. Weasley said I could stay too, but I'd have to help Ron de-gnome the garden, but come on. It's me. I'm not made for hard labor."

Shaking her brown hair, Hermione inhaled deeply to try and get rid of her annoyance. "Alright, Blaise, you can stay—but only for just a little while I get everything ready around the house, understood? After that, I'll drop you off to Cho."

Smiling widely, a clever way to hide the smirk in his eyes as his charming facial expression did all the work, Zabini rushed towards the bed. Jumping onto the small space next to his best mate, he threw an arm around his shoulders. "Oh, we're going to have a blast, Drake. I'm thinking a small round of Quidditch after several Sobering Potions, yes?"


"It's not true!" Bang. "I didn't do—" Gray eyes that matched Draco's perfectly well stared in the most incredulous manner ever possibly managed as the master bedroom suddenly became silent; and two more people entered the room.


"Good morning, kids!" Blaise grinned, waving his dark palm at the little figures gaping at him with raised eyebrows and disgusted faces. "Come say hello to your Uncle Blaise!"

"You know, Mum, every time I shuddered at the idea of coming into your bedroom unannounced," Scorpius Malfoy—now a glorious teenage boy—crossed his arms over his chest, "and startling upon something that would scar me for the rest of my days, this is not what I assumed it would be."

"Cho threw him out, Scorpius," Hermione informed, lifting herself off of the mattress and sliding on her slippers onto her feet. "Again."

"How is it that she's still with you?" Smirking with a slanted grin, one that has been passed down from generations of Malfoys, a girl with caramel-colored hair handed an infant to Hermione's outstretched arms. "Is it tough love and all that rubbish you adults are always going on about?"

Returning the smirk, Blaise pushed his friend back a few spaces to the side; trying to get as much room in the bed as possible. "More like rough love, my darling Ariana. But you'll understand what I mean when you get much older, love."

"Zabini!" Draco hissed, punching his once fellow Slytherin on the arm.

The dark-skinned man flinched. "Oi! That hurt!"

However, Draco ignored him purposely as he looked up at his daughter. "Ignore him, Ariana, he's still drunk."

"And that makes it better?" Hermione asked bewildered, bouncing a blonde baby girl on her hip.

"I'm godfather, 'Mione, I'm here to assist you in their raising and to guide them in their life," Blaise chuckled, pulling the blankets away from Draco and towards himself.

The brunette woman frowned very unpleasantly. "You're godfather only to Ariana, Blaise. Besides, being godfather means you're here to shower her with gifts and, Merlin forbid, take her in if something happens to Draco and I. But even then, that's stretching it. I'd rather give her to a pack of trolls or giants."

"Don't make it sound terrible, Mum. She has the same intellectual level as they do, so they'll live in perfect harmony—"


"Oi, what was that for, you ugly beast?!"

Hermione frowned, clutching on to Ariana's skinny arm before she could fully attack her older brother. "Seriously, you two?"

With a huff and a determined look not to show that the hit was actually stinging him, Scorpius decided to leer at his thirteen year-old sister. "I'm just pointing out the truth, Mother. It's not my fault she can't handle the truth."

"And I'm just going to murder him, Mother," the girl repeated in the same tone as her brother had; same mocking, sarcastic tone. "It's not my fault he can't handle that."

"Alright, alright. That's enough," Hermione's voice rose a few degrees in volume that even the two elder Slytherins stopped their bickering of sharing pillows. (Honestly, how many children could be in a room at a time?) "Scorpius, go and make sure you've packed everything in your trunk and that you haven't forgotten anything. Ariana, go take a shower, dear, and please don't send curses at your brother. Kingsley will only allow certain slip-ups before he actually expels you. And, Demetria—" stopping as the barely two year-old baby gurgled and giggled, Hermione sighed at the youngest of her children. "How about some breakfast, Dem?"

With arms crossed in frustration, Ariana said, "how come Dem gets fed?"

Scorpius leered bigger. "Because you're losing your figure, sister of mine."


Pushing the two fighting teens out of her bedroom in a hurry, Hermione turned to face the two men sitting on her silvery sheets; her baby still attached onto her hip. "You better make yourselves useful, you prats."

The two men raised their brows at her in question.

"Draco, fix the bed and clean the room," Hermione snapped. "And, Blaise...Just sit there and I'll take you to Cho as soon as possible."

Laughing as the blonde man stood from the bed quickly from the order his wife gave, Blaise outstretched his legs on the mattress; looking quite smug as his best friend glowered at him as he made himself comfortable. "Well, you heard your wife, mate. Clean the room, chop, chop."

Oh, yes. This was the sweet life.