Disclaimer: I don't make profit out of writing this thing. Too bad. JK Rowling owns the HP books and the whole Potterverse. Too bad, again.

A/N: Most fanfics I've read about D/Hr show how Draco and Hermione got together in the first place. There's nothing bad about that, of course, but how about after they got together? Now, we'll see how they're like when they are married with children. Ah, nothing's changed. Draco is still Draco. :D You'll see what I mean.

*   Do You Know What Today Is?   *

Hermione woke up early this morning. She looked at her husband beside her. Draco was still sleeping soundly, almost drowning in the black silk blankets which he always insisted on using.

She smiled affectionately at her husband's sleeping form. She could not believe that they had been married for ten whole years. If people had told her way back during her Hogwarts years that she and Draco would end up marrying each other—and surprisingly, for love and not for anything else—she would think that they were daft. But here were both of them—Draco and Hermione—madly in love with each other like a newlywed couple. And here she was, the mother of his child.

Hermione felt that she was getting too sentimental, but she had a right to feel that way, because she and Draco went through all sorts of obstacles just to be together. They had a lot to fight against. Death Eaters, the Dark Lord, Lucius, Narcissa, Harry, Ron, the Weasleys, her friends, his friends, and society on general were all against their pairing.

She was just grateful that the war was over and that Ron, Harry, and all her friends decided to try to understand her because she insisted that she knew what she was doing. Draco's friends were too afraid to offend him so they didn't say anything negative in her face. She figured that they talked about her behind her back, but she did not care.

As for her in-laws…well, it seemed that they were slowly but surely won over and softened by their seven-year-old granddaughter. Probably because Ophelia—or Lia for short—had the Malfoys' look of pale skin, gray eyes, blood-red lips, and silver-blond hair. Lia was currently vacationing in the Malfoy Manor right now, with her grandparents.

Really, Hermione was very happy, especially today, her and Draco's tenth wedding anniversary.

She quietly left the bed, careful not to disturb her husband. She decided to prepare a wonderful breakfast (and thus giving the house-elves the day-off) for Draco. As she walked down the spiral staircases, she smiled to herself as she tried to imagine what beautiful surprise Draco might have for her.


Draco woke up from a deep slumber. Instinctively he reached out his arm to his side to cuddle Hermione, but instead of his wife, he touched a pillow instead.

He looked at the empty space beside him, puzzled. Most of the time they eat breakfast together in bed.

Oh well, she probably had to catch up on her readings. She was probably in her study or in her personal library. If she was in either place, she definitely wouldn't want to be disturbed.

His stomach grumbled. Draco realized that he was very hungry. He decided to go to the dining room and eat breakfast there. Somehow he did not want to eat breakfast in bed without his wife.

Draco got out of the bed and went to the bathroom. He gargled and put on a dark green silk bathrobe. Then he walked down the wide hallways and went down the stairs. As he neared the dining room, he smelled the wonderful and delicious aroma of blueberry waffles.

When he entered the huge dining room, he was surprised to see Hermione seating at her seat. A feast for a breakfast was laid out on the table--waffles, pancakes, bacon, ham, bread, butter, pasties, pastries, crepes, orange juice, and coffee.

Hermione—already in her best robes—smiled at him and said, "Good morning, hon. I prepared breakfast myself."

Draco went over to Hermione and kissed her on the cheek. "Good morning to you too," he said as he sat down on his seat. "Your cooking looks great. What's the occasion?" he asked.

"What do you mean, what's the occasion?"

"Well, I think you wouldn't prepare so much food if there was no occasion," he said after he took a bite of his favorite--blueberry muffin. Then he frowned. "Are Potter and Weasley coming over to visit? You could have warned me," he said.

Hermione frowned, too. "No, they're not coming." There was a pause. Then she said, "You really don't know if there's an occasion today?"

Draco made a huge show of thinking deeply, then he shook his head. "No. Why don't you tell me? Or did you just feel like making breakfast today? I must say, the food is really great," he said sincerely.

To Draco's surprise, Hermione stood up from the table and said coldly, "Well, if you don't know then I'm not going to tell you. I'm leaving for work now. I have to preside a meeting at the Ministry."

"What the hell—" Draco never got to finish his sentence. Right then and there Hermione Disapparated.

Draco sat there at the head of the table, frowning and thinking for a long time. He did not care that he was bloody late for the meeting of the editors he himself had set. Well, he did not care. He owned The Daily Prophet, anyway.

He thought over and over again the conversation he just had with Hermione. Had he said something to offend her? He was starting to get annoyed. Hermione could be dramatic sometimes. Then suddenly he remembered something…something terribly important.

Draco slapped himself on the forehead. "How can I be so stupid?" he asked himself out loud. No wonder Hermione was angry. "Of course today is the day," he mumbled.

He just had to set work aside for the day and do something to make up for his forgetfulness. He was sure that she was feeling very hurt, and Draco felt ashamed of himself.

He got to make it up to her. He just had to.


At night, when Hermione Apparated back at their own home, the Malfoy Estate, she was still feeling very angry towards Draco. She knew her husband well. As much as she wished that he was joking about not remembering for the sake of surprising her later, she knew that he forgot about their anniversary, plain and simple. She did not feel like seeing Draco for the remainder of the night. She also did not feel like giving Draco the ring she bought for their anniversary. It was no ordinary ring. It was the long-lost heirloom of the Malfoys. The platinum-gold and emerald-studded ring was among the many Malfoy possessions which were confiscated during the war years ago. The possessions—except the ring— were returned after it was discovered that underneath a façade of buying people for purposes of slavery, the Malfoys were, surprisingly, actually buying people to save lives. During the war, many witches and wizards desperately wanted to work for the Malfoys, because nobody died under their supervision. Nobody who was working for the Malfoys during the war had been turned over to the Dark Lord.

The Malfoys, who started off as war profiteers and labor exploiters, had a change of heart somewhere down the road. It was something that never failed to amaze Hermione every time she thought about it.

Too bad the ring was never returned. She had never known its existence until Draco mentioned it to her a couple of years ago. Unbeknownst to Draco, Hermione decided to hire detectives and researchers to help her search through papers, records, and documents for any clue as to where the ring might be now. And after two years of searching, the ring was tracked down in an antique jewelry shop owned by a Muggle in the Philippines. Hermione had to buy the ring and it had cost her a fortune. Thank goodness both she and Draco were earning a lot of money.

No, despite the years of effort and money spent on searching for the ring, she would not give it to him today. Maybe next wedding anniversary. That was, if he would be able to remember.

As she walked down the main hallway of the mansion, Melbourne, the elderly butler, intercepted her.

"Good evening, Madame Hermione," he said with a slight bow.

"Oh, good evening to you too, Melbourne," she said. "Is Lia back from the Manor?"

"Ah, that is what I would like to talk to you about, Madame. Master Lucius and Madame Narcissa had sent their messenger. The messenger said that they would bring Miss Ophelia here tomorrow instead of today so you and Master Draco could spend your anniversary alone," he reported. "And Master Lucius and Madame Narcissa send their greetings on your and Master Draco's anniversary."

"Oh, thanks for telling me, Melbourne," Hermione said.

"My pleasure, Madame." And with that, he bowed and left discreetly.

Hermione smiled a little despite of the anger and frustration she had over Draco. She knew that her in-laws had not completely accepted her yet, but as time went by, they have manifested subtle gestures indicating their gradual acceptance of her. It was very thoughtful of them to think of her and Draco's privacy. Hermione felt a bit touched that at least her in-laws remembered.

Too bad her husband did not.

She finally reached their bedroom, and she slowly opened the door. She peeked inside. No, Draco was not there. Probably he was in his study, or still over at the newspaper office, or at one of their companies' offices. She did not care. At least she did not have to see his face while she was still angry.

She went inside the room, and her attention was caught by a big box on the bed. Out of curiosity, Hermione lifted the lid of the box and lo and behold…

A beautiful evening dress lay inside. It was midnight blue, made of velvet, with a haltered top and A-line bodice. There was a high slit at the side of the dress. She was also delighted to see a pair of matching strappy sandals, a little evening purse, a pair of long white gloves, and a diamond jewelry set.

Then she noticed a piece of parchment Spellotaped at the inside of the lid. Hermione detached it and read:

My darling Hermione,

Are you surprised? These are all for you to keep.

Wear the dress, the jewelry, and the shoes. Don't forget to use the purse. After you've changed and gotten ready, open the purse and take out the one thing inside it. Do not take out the thing inside if you're still not absolutely dressed and ready. That's another surprise, and I'm sure you don't want to ruin the surprise for yourself.

I love you.


P.S. I did not forget.

Hermione felt like crying with happiness. He did not forget! All at once, her anger disappeared, and she felt very excited about his surprise for her and her gift to him. She quickly took off her robes and carefully changed into the blue dress. As she looked in the mirror, she felt satisfied that her figure was still very good, especially for a thirty-four-year old woman.

Using a few cosmetic spells which she had perfected after years of using them, she was ready in a matter of minutes. Her hair was pulled in a French twist with a few loose tendrils framing her face. She was wearing a bit of make-up, which highlighted her simple and natural beauty.

She slipped her feet into the shoes. After that, she wore the jewelry and the gloves.

When she was ready, Hermione surveyed herself in the mirror. Despite of being rich, Hermione never really dressed up that much. She felt a sort of girlish glee as she saw herself in the mirror.

"Hmmm, not bad for a woman my age," Hermione murmured.

"Oh dear, definitely not bad. You look gorgeous! You and your husband make a very attractive couple," the mirror commented.

Hermione could not help but blush a little at the compliment. "Thank you, you're being too kind," she said with a small laugh.

She walked over to a painting on the wall and tapped the side with her wand. The painting opened like a door, revealing a hollow gold-walled space, which happened to be Hermione's secret and personal jewelry cabinet. There was a little black box among with the colorful jewelry boxes inside. Hermione took the black box and carefully cradled it in her hand. She then shut the opening with her wand.

Oh, she was excited to give the ring to Draco.

She was ready to go. But to go where, she realized she did not know. Then she remembered Draco's instructions. She reached for the purse and opened it. Inside was one thing—a white silk handkerchief. She placed the little black box inside the purse while staring at the handkerchief, puzzled at what kind of surprise it might be.

Holding the purse in her right hand, Hermione retrieved the handkerchief with her left. She stared at it, still puzzled. She tucked the purse under her arm and inspected the handkerchief with both hands. She unfolded it and stared at it. Nothing. She was starting to wonder just what kind of surprise this was when suddenly…

Hermione felt as if a hook had just caught her, and she lurched forward. Her feet fell to the ground. She was speeding forward in a howl for wind and swirling colors, all the while holding on the handkerchief as if holding on for life.

It all happened so fast. The next thing she knew, her feet fell solidly on the ground.

She looked around. She saw that she was in an expensively and beautifully furnished and decorated room, with steel, black, gray, and white as the predominant theme. She was sure that she had never been here before. All she knew was that the room looked like it was owned by a Muggle—an outrageously rich Muggle.

The handkerchief was definitely a Portkey. But where was she? Where was Draco? Why did she seem to be in a Muggle place?

Her question was answered almost instantaneously. Draco appeared from behind a sliding glass door which she had not noticed before. Despite her confusion, she felt her heart beat a little faster at the sight of Draco wearing a black suit. The Chinese-collared shirt he had under his coat was very appealing on him. Once again, she realized that her husband was a very handsome man.

"Well, Hermione, how do you like all these?" he asked huskily with a sweep of his hand. Then he paused to look her over with a smoldering gaze. "Do you know that my wife is a very beautiful woman?"

Hermione, too amazed to say anything, answered with another question, "Where are we?"

"We're in Las Vegas. Sin City. Look out the window, hon, and see the world at your feet," he said. Then he brought her to the sliding glass door and they stepped outside on the balcony. She could see the bright and inviting lights of the city below, giving her a fantastic view.

"We're in Las Vegas?" Hermione asked ecstatically. She had always wanted to go to Las Vegas, just to experience being extravagant and wild for once. But Draco rarely wanted to go to a Muggle place, and she could not ask anyone else to go with her because they might not believe that she—still Miss Responsible and Sensible—even thought of wanting to go to Las Vegas. She once suggested to Harry that he, Ron, and she ought to go to Las Vegas for a change, and the Harry looked at her as if she were mad.

Draco slipped both hands around her waist. "Yes, Hermione. We are in Las Vegas Strip. In Caesars Palace, to be exact. We'll party, drink, gamble, dance, frolic, eat, and just have a pretty wild time painting the town red all we want 'til tomorrow," he murmured in her ear. "Of course, we can have our own party here in the suite if you want to…" He trailed a finger up her arm slowly and tantalizingly.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Caesars Palace? Wow," she breathed.

"Nothing but the best for us," he answered, planting butterfly kisses on her cheek at the same time.

Hermione giggled like a schoolgirl. "How did you know that I've wanted to go here for so long?" she asked.

"I just have a way of knowing. You've been my wife for so long. I know you well," he murmured again as he nibbled on her ear.

Hermione turned her head to face Draco and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Well, I'm glad. Thank you," she said huskily. She kissed him again, this time with heat.

After a few breathless moments, she pulled away.

"I thought you forgot. I was angry," she said.

"You thought I forgot? I planned all this from the start," he said smugly.

Hermione sighed contentedly and leaned on Draco's strong chest. "I'm so glad you remembered," she whispered.

"How can I forget?" he said. Then Draco held out his hand in front of her. In his hand was a red rose.

"For you, Hermione."

"You've given me more than was necessary," she sighed happily. Then she gently took the rose in her hand. "I'm just so glad you remembered," she murmured.

"I would never forget today, Hermione. Happy birthday."

The End (of Draco?)

A/N: I bet a hundred Galleons that this did not go exactly as you thought it would. :lol: Mwahahahahahahahaha! Draco is toast!!! Mwahahahahahahaha! Hermione will kill him! :lol: Well, if Draco happened to be my husband and he did that to me, I would definitely kill him…or make him suffer in the very least. :lol: Anyway, this is the end—whether it's Draco's end or not, I really don't know. Let his fate be left to Hermione's hands, and let us just hope that she will spare his life (after all, he is her husband). Teehee. I'll just leave to your imaginations what Hermione will do to him. It's better this way, for pseudo-literary purposes. I simply don't know what to do to him after committing that major booboo. Er, I hope you got the ending. Well, I'm sure you do. :) And also, there is really a Caesars Palace. It's an internationally known and five-star hotel at the middle of the Las Vegas Strip (where all the establishments which made Las Vegas popular are).