Hey lovelies! :) Well, this is my first HP fanfic that I've uploaded, so I'm pretty nervous about what you guys all thought. With the residue Pottermania still lingering from DHp2 last year, I've been kinda neglecting my fanfic account, so I figured I might as well capitalize on my Pottercraze and try my hand at the HP fandom.

For new readers of mine, I just wanna say hi, and thanks for reading this! Feel free to check out my other fics in the Hunger Games fandom! As for my regular readers, or readers who have me on alert, I hope you enjoy the story, and I'd really appreciate it if you could leave a review. Tell me if you think I'm better at HP fics, or I should just stick to HG ones. Tell me about your OTP, or about your opinion on the Dramione ship. I'd love to hear from you guys more! :)

Also, last thing, I'll like to dedicate this fic to my lovely beta, Skylark Dreams, .k.a. Hazel as a little birthday present. Love you dear! To all my readers out there, go check her out on ! Her fics are amazing, and I'm sure it'll be great if you could read, review and wish her a happy sixteenth birthday! :)

Disclaimer: JK Rowling is the QUEEN of all things canon, and the entire Harry Potter series belongs solely to her. Characters, distinctive phrases used, as well as all references to past events from canon are all under her property. I do not own anything whatsoever. However, I for one, wouldn't mind owning dear Draco for a day! ;)

Memoirs of an Amazing Bouncing Ferret

"This is bloody ridiculous!" Draco grumbled aloud, throwing his quill down on his parchment and feeling a mild satisfaction at the growing inkblot that appears. "Of all the things to critique, it's the bloody title?"

"Oh come on now, Draco," The bushy-haired witch plopped herself down next to him. She busies herself with vanishing the ink blot and righting his parchments into one neat stack, before continuing.

"We all know the title's the most important part of the book! Parvati sa-"

"Yes, well, I don't really give a fuck what that giggly, gossipy Gryffindor says. This is my book, and I will call it what I want!"

Hermione Granger huffed in annoyance, rolling her eyes a little at the blonde. "That giggly, gossipy Gryffindor is the editor of the Daily Prophet, and has published five other autobiographies before yours. And you say Gryffindor like it's a bad thing."

Draco glanced up at the hurt expression on his girlfriend's face. A funny feeling blooms in his chest, pangs of…. Guilt? Could it be?

It doesn't matter what he's feeling, he decides. He has felt it enough to know how to make it go away.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

She turned away from him, but not quick enough to hide the single tear inching down her cheeks. He shifts closer towards her on the sofa, hesitantly drawing his arms around her petite frame. Years of living like a cold, aristocratic brat have made it difficult for Draco to initiate human contact, but that wasn't the reason for his hesitation.

He knew, from personal experience, that when a woman, particularly his Hermione, was in a mood, one move could cause anything from a giggle or a kiss, to a particularly cruel Bat-Bogey Hex. Hell, he even knew from Ron Weasley's recently published war journal that this particular witch was rather fond of more… creative… ways of self-expression. Draco shuddered as a mental image of a flock of angry yellow canaries pops into mind.

Thank Merlin, the sniffling witch in his arms didn't seem to have particularly avian tendencies today. She melted into his embrace, as he leaned further forward and gently kissed the rogue tear away.

"I'm sorry. I really didn't mean it that way. I was just frustrated with all this editing, that's all!"

More tears. More gentle kisses, like the flutter of a butterfly's wings on her smooth, creamy cheek.

Draco tries a different tactic. "I've tried everything! Honestly, you'd think that Parvati would be better off naming it by herself, if she thinks I'm so rubbish at this! Honestly, there's nothing wrong with Tales of a Reformed Death Eater. 'Something more creative, Draco! Something more eye-catching!' That bloody woman!"

Hermione giggled softly, her warm eyes crinkling with laughter. Draco's heart soared. Success! Finally!

He continued with his mini-rant, more to hear her peals of laughter rather than for his own emotional well-being. Draco scooted over to make more room for her on the couch, pulling Hermione tighter against his torso.

"So then I try for something more innovative. But the bloody woman throws it back at me again! 'No, Draco! Bedtime Stories with the Master of the Elder Wand is no good! Its not true, for one!'" Draco mimics his editor's high-pitched, whiny voice. "She's mad! And besides, it's not untrue. It's just technically a misrepresentation of information. Of course I was going to include it in the fine print that Harry bloody Potter, the Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Bloody-Die, overpowered me. Just in really small print. Maybe just barely scrutinizable by the use of a Reading Charm, as well as 3 of those Muggle devices, what were those called again? Magnifying lins? Lans? I don't really know…"

This earned him a full laugh from the know-it-all in his lap, her musical laughter drawing out his own deep chuckles.

"It's a magnifying lens, Draco! Its really simple, really. It takes the light and bends it within the concave surface of the lens so that the light rays will refr-"

"I know, darling. You explained it last week." He looked at her with fondness in his eyes. It still amazed Hermione to see the intense emotions in her lover's steely-grey eyes. They were often cold and shut off, but for her, the best part was the emotions. Regardless of what other unfeeling Slytherins may say.

"You're thinking too much again, 'Mione." He kissed her, a teasing peck on the lips. "I can almost hear you!"

"Well, what are you going to do about it, Mr. Malfoy?" Her voice dropped to a sultry whisper, earning a guttural groan from her male counterpart.

He attacked her lips, her neck, her bare shoulders, biting and sucking and nibbling at what were sure to be marks the next day. Pausing at the hollow, just under her throat, he murmured his reply.

"Distracting you, of course." Draco's nimble fingers raked through her bushy hair, scraping her scalp slightly and sending shivers of pleasure down her spine. His talented mouth drew a line down her collar bone, teasing his way into the valley below. Hermione lost herself to the sensations, her mind floating to higher realms of pleasure.

"So," Draco drew the word out, playing with the monosyllable on the tip of his tongue. Hermione didn't understand how his tongue still had so much energy to do such mundane things. She imagined it would've been quite tired after their exhausting session.

"So." Hermione repeated the word, testing it out in her mouth. It sounded strange, and foreign, like it was leading to something more, something better. She rather liked the feeling, though she rarely used the word. She was a Gryffindor through and through, and much preferred to go straight to the point rather than beat around the bush, toying around with pointless words like that.

"We still haven't figured out the title to my book yet." Draco pointed out the obvious, idly tracing patterns on her bare stomach. We placed a tiny kiss on her right shoulder, right atop a small mole that he had discovered years back. It gave him a good feeling, knowing it was there. Knowing he was the only one who knew about it. "We've already heard my opinions. What do you think, Hermione?"

"I think, that you should stop doing that before I'm late for work!" The curly-haired witch teased, reluctantly pulling away from his ministrations to slip into her robe. Her bare feet padded across the carpeted floor, tracing a familiar path to the bathroom where she would start her morning routine.

Sighing and falling back onto the warm bed, Draco half stared at the blank ceiling, and half listened to the soothing sounds of Hermione taking her morning shower. Oh, how tempted he was to join her, but he knew it would make her late, and that in turn would make her angry. An angry Hermione never bode well for Draco. The last time she was mad at him, he slept on the couch for weeks.

"Draco?" Her lilting voice floated out of the bathroom. He sat up eagerly. Perhaps she had changed her mind? Perhaps she didn't mind being late today? He could barely keep his excitement out of his voice when he called back.

"Yes, Mione?"

"Brew me a cup of coffee, will you? I'm coming out in a few minutes."

Grumbling to himself, Draco stumbled out of bed and made his way to the kitchen. Pulling out her muggle 'Kofee' contraption, he pressed the appropriate buttons that Hermione had long drilled into his head, and waiting for the fragrant drink to brew. He would never admit it, but he did love the smell of Hermione and her little Muggle home, with the coffee on boil and the clothes freshly laundered in another of her Muggle devices. He grinned a little at the idea.

"What are you smiling at?" Ah, the object of his affection had finally emerged, her damp towel still wrapped around her wet hair.

"Just thought of another idea for the book."

"Oh, and what's that?" Her confident hands poured herself some coffee, setting aside another cup for Draco.

"What do you think of Diary of a Henpecked Boyfriend?"

Hermione chuckled at the thought. "Glad you know it, dear. But I don't quite think that Parvati would approve."

Draco groaned again. "What else does that ruddy woman want?"

A light went off in Hermione's eyes. She finished off the rest of the coffee and headed towards her door, grabbing her bag alongside her.

"I have to go for work, but here, I've an idea." She scribbled hastily on a notepad by the door, usually reserved for their random little notes, or messages from the fellytone next to her door. "Bye honey, I'll see you back home for dinner. Tell Parvati I said hi!"

With a couple of blown kisses and a sweet smile, Hermione stepped out the door and Apparated away.

Curiosity overtook Draco, and he dived forward to take a peek at her brilliant suggestion. One glimpse told him everything he needed to, and he cursed, crumpling the paper in his large palm and tossing it to one side.

That tricky witch! He thought, recalling those cheeky six words on the paper.

Memoirs of an Amazing Bouncing Ferret.

Draco would rather die.

Well, that's it! I've planned for this to only be a one-shot, but if there's enough demand for it, I might consider expanding it into a full fic. Please leave a review and let me know what you think!