Chapter Text
They spent the morning of the last day snogging.
Hermione’s back hit the wall hard as Malfoy lifted her, hitching her legs over his hips. She clung to his shoulders, kissing him furiously as he ground his erection against her center. Distantly, she wondered if there were any long-term health risks of being hard for nearly twenty-four hours straight.
She whined high in her throat as he broke the kiss to lick hard against the underside of her jaw.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” he murmured, sucking at her neck. “Are you going to let me taste all of you tonight?”
Her fingers raked through his hair as his teeth closed over the sensitive skin. “Yes,” she gasped. “Wherever you want.”
“Good girl.”
She moaned against his lips as he kissed her again, and part of her wanted to check the time. She wasn’t exactly sure how it had been decided that they would wait until the last night to finally consummate, but the build-up had been its own kind of exquisite torture.
Malfoy seemed to be of the opinion that now he had proved there was no reason she shouldn’t be able to have an orgasm with him, there was no sense wasting any more of them before they actually had sex. She had spent the previous afternoon and evening in a sort of lust-fueled haze, floating somewhere just below conscious awareness of the world outside of his lips and hands.
It was another tactic; she was sure of that. But with the way he kissed her, Hermione could hardly complain. Her body seemed hyper-attuned to the approaching event, and the pent-up anticipation could only help to achieve their ultimate goal.
Plus, it was really fucking fun to snog all the time.
“Ah—” She bit down on his lip as his thumb brushed over her nipple. “Don’t tease me.”
“You like being teased,” he said, pulling away to suck on her neck again.
“I know, but…” She flushed at that admission. “But I’m going to want more.”
He rocked his hips forward, pressing her damp knickers against her. “You can wait.”
“We don’t have to,” she argued weakly, pressing her chest into his hand. “We could—”
What they could do was lost in the abrupt roar of green flames from the hearth.
They both glanced over, and Harry’s voice shouted from within. “Hermione? Are you there?”
She groaned, pushing at Malfoy’s shoulders, and he dropped her back onto her feet. She quickly straightened her clothes before kneeling in front of the fire. “Hi, Harry. Yes, I’m here.”
Instead of responding, however, Harry’s head disappeared from the flames.
“Harry?”
She barely had time to scramble out of the way before the fire hissed and roared again, admitting Harry, Ron, and Ginny into the sitting room.
“What’s going on?” Hermione asked, getting to her feet and wiping the dust from her knees.
“What’s going on?” Harry repeated, sounding bewildered. “Hermione, you haven’t responded to our letters in days and it’s—” He cut his eyes to Malfoy for the first time. “It’s the last day.”
“Yes, thank you, Potter,” Malfoy said dryly, stepping forward and winding an arm around Hermione’s waist. “We are quite aware.”
All three of her friends dropped their eyes to the fingers curled possessively at her hip, and Hermione cleared her throat.
“I’m sorry I haven’t responded,” she said honestly, thinking of Harry’s last letter and one from Ginny that still lay unopened on her desk. “I guess I’ve been a bit distracted.” She ran her fingers nervously through her hair, and Ginny’s brows rose.
“So it would seem,” she said.
“Was that all?” Hermione asked, trying for a casual tone. “As you mentioned, it’s the last day—”
“Actually,” Malfoy interrupted. “I have somewhere I need to be. You should spend some time with your friends.”
Hermione turned to gape at him. Where could he possibly need to be?
He just smiled placidly, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to her frozen lips.
Harry gave a choked sort of gurgle.
“Have a nice visit, sugar,” Malfoy said quietly, though not quietly enough.
Hermione’s face flamed as she responded through clenched teeth. “Don’t call me that.”
Malfoy winked before turning and leaving the room. The four of them simply stared after him until he disappeared through the front door.
“Sugar?” Ron asked, breaking the silence.
Hermione shifted on her feet. “It’s an inside joke.”
His face visibly paled, and Hermione considered whether she and Malfoy having an inside joke together was more disturbing than the idea of him actually referring to her as sugar. She supposed from an outside perspective it might be about equal.
Clearly either option was too much for Harry because he staggered slightly before falling into an armchair.
“So, I take it things are going well?” Ginny asked, brows still raised.
“Erm.” Hermione shifted again. “Well, it hasn’t necessarily been smooth, but yes, we are making it work.”
Ginny nodded slowly. “But you haven’t…”
“No,” Hermione said quickly. Then added, “Well, not exactly.”
Harry winced. “I really don’t want to know what that means.”
Hermione dropped onto the sofa, bracing her head in her hands. “It means that things are more complicated than I originally anticipated—something to do with the ancestral Malfoy magic—but we’re managing it.”
“We?” Ron repeated, taking the seat next to her.
She glanced up at him, and after a moment, she nodded. “Malfoy has been very… helpful.”
A breath of a laugh gusted out between Ron’s lips and he shook his head. “There’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear you say.”
Hermione gave him a weak smile. “None of this is exactly what we’d planned for ourselves, but…” She let out a sigh. “I think it could be okay.”
“Really?” Harry asked.
Hermione looked over at him. “Yes,” she said. “It has to be.”
Her friends exchanged confused looks, and Hermione steeled herself. “That’s one of the reasons I didn’t respond right away,” she admitted. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you that even if we’re able to prove that the matches are politically motivated, it’s become moot.”
“Moot?” Ron repeated.
“For me, at least,” she clarified. “I’ll still help look into it. This law is unethical all the way around, and I’ll protect anyone else from it that I can, but…” she trailed off, twining her hands in her lap. “This is it for me.”
“Malfoy is it for you?” Ginny repeated as though she just wanted to be sure.
Hermione nodded, feeling a reluctant smile tug her lips. “Yes, he is.”
Ginny glanced back and forth between the two boys, but none of them seemed able to process this new development. “All right,” she said, sitting on the edge of the coffee table and leaning forward. “Explanation. Now.”
***
They were mostly understanding.
There was a bit of an outburst when Hermione explained about the core bond, but it seemed all three of her friends were in reluctant agreement with Malfoy about the choice Hermione would have made if she’d known about it ahead of the marriage ceremony.
And the fact that she was now looking forward to the potential future they had together rather than dreading it with every fiber of her being probably went a long way towards keeping any of the three of them from tearing off to go hex Malfoy within an inch of his life for trapping her in a lifelong commitment.
Hermione was incredibly thankful that they seemed to take her assurance that everything was going to be okay to heart.
Of course it would only be okay if her husband decided to show back up at some point.
Hermione tried not to be rude while she talked with her friends, but as long as Malfoy was elsewhere, it seemed part of her mind would be, too. After far too many times of catching her checking the clock, Ginny finally took the hint.
“Well, I’d wish you good luck,” she said with a smirk as she pulled Hermione in for a hug. “But I hardly think you’ll need it.”
Hermione blinked in confusion until Ginny reached out and touched the side of her neck. “Not with such an enthusiastic partner,” she finished.
Hermione clapped a hand over the spot where Malfoy had been sucking earlier that morning. “Right,” she said weakly, not quite managing a laugh.
Ron and Harry both avoided her eye as they hugged her farewell.
“I’ll let you know how it goes,” she said and then promptly snapped her mouth shut.
Ron flushed crimson.
“I meant,” Hermione said quickly, shaking her head, “I’ll make sure to let you know that I won’t be dragged off to Azkaban.”
“Right, thanks,” Harry said brusquely.
“Feel free to let me know how it goes,” Ginny said with a grin.
Hermione stifled a laugh as Harry strong-armed Ginny into the fireplace and called out for Grimmauld Place.
Ron gave Hermione one last look as the other two were swept away. “I’m glad you’re—” He broke off, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Well, I’m glad it—”
Hermione smiled as he gave a helpless sigh. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I guess I’m just glad,” he finished.
Hermione could relate. Despite everything, she was glad that she wasn’t going to prison. Glad that it wasn’t someone worse. Glad that everything was going to be all right.
She nodded. “Thanks, Ron. Me too.”
***
That feeling of confident contentment only lasted so long into the afternoon though. As the hours passed and Malfoy failed to return, anxiety began to seep in around the edges. Irrational worries formed in her mind as she puttered about, nibbling at her lunch and tidying up the already neat house.
Her gaze lingered on her reflection in the black television screen as she ran her wand over it, banishing non-existent dust from around the edges. Surely Malfoy hadn’t changed his mind about going through with the consummation; he had seemed quite committed to the idea that morning. The arrival of her friends couldn’t have changed anything.
Her eyes flicked over to the front door for the hundredth time. What if he wasn’t staying away by choice? What if something had happened to him in the Muggle world? She swallowed involuntarily as a horrible image of him being struck by a car as he crossed the street unfolded in her mind. He wouldn’t have any identification on him. If he was injured, she would have no way of knowing.
She realised that the fingers of one hand were unconsciously rubbing over her breastbone, and she shook her head firmly. No, if something had happened to him, she would feel it. She didn’t know what it would feel like through the bond, but undoubtedly a mortal wound would feel like something.
Focused as she was on the steady hum of her magical core, Hermione failed to notice the commotion happening outside and dropped her wand when someone knocked loudly on the front door.
She flew across the room, wrenching the door open and staring for a moment at the empty space beyond it. She blinked in confusion for the span of a second before her eyes dropped several feet to Gemma’s upturned face.
“Hi, Hermione,” she said brightly.
Hermione returned the little girl’s smile, feeling her heart unclench. Of course Malfoy wouldn’t have knocked.
“Hi, Gemma,” she said and reached out compulsively to tighten the chin strap of the girl’s lopsided helmet.
“Is Draco here?” Gemma asked, shoving her fringe back under the yellow plastic shell. “I can show him my bike. So he can see if he wants to learn.”
“That’s very nice of you to offer,” Hermione said, “but actually, he’s not here.”
Gemma’s brow immediately creased with concern.
“He’s just out at the moment,” Hermione quickly clarified. “He’ll be back soon.” Our lives literally depend on it, she didn’t add.
“Where is he?” Gemma asked, rather nosily.
Hermione sighed. “I don’t know.”
The little girl’s lips pursed with disapproval as though Hermione really should be doing a better job of keeping track of her husband. In this particular circumstance, Hermione couldn’t help but agree.
“I’m sure he’d be happy to see you ride your bike another time,” she added.
“Will he be here tomorrow?” Gemma asked hopefully.
There was a sudden crack of Apparition from the upper floor of the house, and Hermione’s grip on the door handle loosened as relief flooded through her.
“Yes,” she replied with an easy smile. “He will be here tomorrow.”
Gemma seemed satisfied, and with a nod that sent the helmet sliding down her forehead again, she turned and bounded down the front steps. Hermione watched her scoop up her bicycle from where it lay discarded on the lawn before closing the door and leaning back against it for a moment.
Her eyes trailed up the stairs to the mouth of the dark hallway, but Malfoy didn’t appear. She took a deep breath before starting up the steps on slightly trembling legs. She wiped her palms down the sides of her jeans as she traversed the well-worn carpet of the landing, feeling ridiculous at the nervous anticipation tingling through her chest.
The door to Malfoy’s room was open, and she stopped in front of it, surveying the scene for clues to his previous whereabouts.
He was standing in front of the bureau, fiddling with the cuff of one sleeve, and he looked exactly as he had done that morning. Same black shirt and trousers; hair still in its standard coif. Her eyes ran over the various surfaces of the room but there were no bags of shopping, no parcels or packages. She couldn’t see any immediate evidence of what he had been up to.
The floor creaked beneath her as she leaned to peer further into the room, and Malfoy glanced up. His lips pulled into a smile at the sight of her, and her stomach somersaulted.
“Where have you been?” she asked, trying for accusatory and coming out needy.
He tutted sympathetically as he stalked toward her, and Hermione took an instinctive step back. “Were you worried I forgot about you?”
“No,” she said honestly. Of all the scenarios she had considered, the consummation simply slipping his mind hadn’t been one of them.
His brows lifted momentarily. “Just missing me then?”
“No,” she repeated, wincing when her voice cracked. Her shoulder knocked the door frame as he backed her out of his room and into hers.
“It’s all right,” he said in a low voice. He reached forward and hooked a finger through one of her belt loops, reeling her in. Her breath hitched as his free hand slid into her hair and his lips brushed against hers. “I missed you too, baby.”
“Don’t—” She swallowed the rest as he opened her mouth under his.
Any doubt Hermione had about whether it was going to happen now was swept away by the flood of intent coming off of him. As her hands wrapped around his neck, she could practically feel it seeping between her fingers. He gave a satisfied hum as she pulled him down to her.
She was still curious about where he had been, but she supposed it could wait. Especially when liquid heat was dripping down through her belly as he slid his tongue against hers again and again. Her eyes squeezed tight shut as she gripped the smooth skin of his jaw and cursed his horrible, perfect mouth. He gave a delicious groan as she sank her teeth into his lip, his hands raking up under her shirt.
She drew back just long enough for him to pull it over her head, and she could barely suppress the whimper that threatened to slip out at the sight of his lips shining with the evidence of her kiss in the golden evening light. They were back on hers in an instant, trapping her hands between their bodies as she worked open the buttons of his shirt.
The clasp of her bra slipped free as she finished the row, and she broke the kiss again to watch his face as he reached a hand up to her shoulder. She held her breath as he paused for a moment, nudging the strap painfully slowly with one finger. When it finally slid off down her arm, letting the cups fall away from her, he let out a long exhale through loosely pursed lips and shook his head.
“Fucking incredible.”
Her eyelids fluttered as both of his hands grazed up over her stomach, lifting the weight of her breasts in his palms, his thumbs finding her nipples.
A sigh caught in her throat, coming out loud and broken as the first strokes sent a jolt through her cunt. His mouth closed back over hers as though to taste the sound on her tongue, and she fed him a desperate whine as he pinched and plucked at her chest. Arousal blazed through her, twitching her hips to rub against him. He stepped forward again, and she thought for a moment that he was accommodating her need for friction, but then the backs of her legs hit the bed and she sat.
She was tempted to complain for a second, but the sight of him sinking to his knees in front of her ripped the urge directly from her chest before the words could form. His fingers on the button of her jeans promised something even better, and her breath stuttered through her shaking throat.
He glanced up, and she felt her face burn with the knowledge that she was probably sucking and gasping like she’d run a marathon. But as he let his tongue roll slowly between his lips to the soundtrack of her zipper lowering, she couldn’t bring herself to give a fuck.
Let him see, she told herself as she lifted her hips enough for him to peel her jeans down. Somehow he was able to turn her on more than anyone ever had, and why should she hide it? That was exactly what they needed. It was a good thing. She was lucky.
As he pulled the denim from her ankles, he looked up at her again.
“On or off?” he asked, tucking one finger into the top of her sock.
She bit her lip, feeling oddly shy. “Off,” she said quietly.
He gave a short nod and stripped them off, catching her completely by surprise when he squeezed her feet hard with both hands, digging his fingers into her arches.
She moaned loudly, as she had the last time, and he gave a lopsided grin at her look of wide-eyed outrage.
“Just wanted a refresher on what I’m aiming for,” he said smugly.
She shook her head, but her lips pulled into a smile despite herself. It was difficult to maintain the desire to kick him when his hands felt like heaven incarnate on her feet. Her eyelids dropped closed as she marvelled at the strength of his fingers, her hips rolling unconsciously against the mattress as they worked up the insides of her calves to her thighs.
He leaned forward suddenly, wrapping his arms at her waist and hugging her so tightly that his cheek pressed hard into her stomach. Her eyes popped open as her legs bracketed his ribs, and her hands landed gently on the top of his head below her. There was something so intimately tender about the embrace that she felt her chest tighten with emotion. Her fingers sifted lightly through his hair as he placed an open-mouthed kiss below her belly button.
Her hips twitched forward again as he pressed the next kiss lower, and his hands shifted to grip her arse in response. She let out a quiet moan as he kissed over the front of her knickers, but it finished in a gasp when she felt his teeth on her waistband.
Throwing caution to the wind, she dug her fingers into his hair and moved against his face as he licked and nipped at the cotton covering her. He answered her with a groan as his movements became more frenzied, his fingers digging almost painfully into the flesh of her thighs. The gust of heat from his breath pooled between her legs until she felt nearly slick enough to slide off the bed.
A yelp squeaked out of her throat as the elastic band snapped against her skin, and he murmured with his nose pressed into the crease of her hip.
“I need to taste you.”
Her head swam at the immediate prospect of having his tongue on her. “Yes. Okay,” she breathed.
He yanked her knickers down before she could even begin to lift herself, stinging the backs of her thighs.
“Fuck,” she gasped, falling back onto the bed.
When her feet were free of the fabric, he leaned back in, forcing her legs open wider and wider with the breadth of his shoulders. She panted at the ceiling, fingers twisting in the covers as he breathed over her.
Her heart clamoured against her ribs as she waited, and her hips jolted at the graze of his lips against the skin above her pubic bone.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, reaching up around her leg to slide a warm palm over her belly. She raised her head to look for a moment, and her eyes widened at the sight of his spread fingers nearly spanning the entire space between her hips.
“Oh, god,” she whined because it wasn’t okay at all. He placed another kiss just above her clit, his chin pressing against it, and it was possibly the furthest she had ever been from being okay in her life. She was absolutely wrecked and he hadn’t even—
“Oh, my—fuck.” A moan wrenched out of her as he placed his open mouth onto her cunt. The sheer enormity of the sensation pressed her head back into the mattress and the air out of her lungs.
His tongue traced a slow path up the length of her slit, and Hermione felt ridiculously on the verge of tears. Her fingers sank helplessly back into his hair as her hips rolled, and he gave a hum of approval, closing his lips gently over her clit before opening them onto her again.
“That’s—god—so good,” she panted, wanting him to know.
“Good, baby.”
“Fuck,” she nearly sobbed as her stomach clenched, drawing one knee up in reflex.
Malfoy caught it, palm against her shin, but instead of guiding her heel over his back like the other was, he kept her knee bent until her foot settled on top of his shoulder.
She pushed against it instinctively and let out a guttural moan as she realised the steady base he had given her to press against as she thrust her hips. She mirrored the position with her other leg at once.
“Oh, my god, it’s—you’re—”
Words failed her as he pressed his tongue exactly where she’d shown him she liked to be touched. Ankles perched by his ears, she rolled against it over and over.
In the past, her partners had always tried to do so much when they went down on her, but now, Malfoy was doing almost nothing. He was simply providing her with his mouth—warm and wet and perfect—to rub against, and fuck if it didn’t feel beyond incredible.
You know what you like, he had told her.
“You’re fucking brilliant,” she panted, not caring about his already problematic ego.
That earned her a chuckle and a nuzzle against her clit with his nose. It was probably meant to be a tender gesture, but she nearly blacked out.
“So sweet, baby,” he murmured fondly. “I think you deserve something special.”
She raised her head in time to see his cheeks hollow briefly as he gathered the saliva in his mouth. Her jaw dropped on a heavy moan as he opened his mouth and let the tip of his tongue drip directly onto her clit. A thick, glossy strand stretched between them for several seconds before he lowered onto her again, and she actually felt her eyes roll back as he swirled the slick over her swollen nub.
“Fuck—oh fuck,” she cried, rocking against him as he pursed his lips and began sucking steadily.
The hand on her belly stretched up to graze over her nipple, and Hermione’s gaze caught on the glint of gold on his finger. She retrieved her own left hand from his hair and laced her fingers between his. Their wedding bands clicked quietly together, and suddenly, her orgasm was on her in an instant.
“Oh, god, I’m—wait—Malfoy, stop!”
He lifted off just in time, likely thanks to the desperate yanking on his hair, and she suppressed a whine as her clit throbbed with the need to come.
“Yeah?” he asked, wiping the back of his hand over his glistening chin.
“Yeah,” she said, nodding fervently. “I’m—yeah.”
He shot her a smirk before pressing a chaste kiss to the inside of one thigh, and she whimpered as he leaned back from between her legs.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he cooed over the jingling of his belt buckle. “After this time, you can come on my tongue whenever you like.”
Despite her current discomfort, that promise was quite comforting. Especially since she had already seen his spectacular cock and was very much looking forward to coming on that instead.
Malfoy got to his feet to remove his trousers, but as soon as he stood, he leaned over with a groan, one hand braced on the mattress, the other palming his still-clothed cock. He took a couple of deep breaths before shaking his head and shooting Hermione an accusing look.
“I’ve never been so hard that I got light-headed before,” he said as he stripped off his trousers and pants. “Your fucking cunt is going to give me brain damage.”
Hermione couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face as he tossed his clothes away. “Is that right?”
“That’s right.” He stroked his cock with a loose fist for a moment as she scooted further up toward the pillows, and though she was hardly an expert, it did look exceptionally hard.
He crawled onto the bed over her, lowering himself between her legs.
“If that’s the case,” Hermione asked coyly as she stroked a finger along his cheek. “Why are you smiling?”
“Because I get to make my wife come—”
“You’ve made me come before,” she argued.
She gave a grunt of surprise as he suddenly shoved the middle two fingers of one hand into her mouth.
“And if you’d quit being so mouthy,” he hissed, “I might do it again.”
A moan vibrated around his fingers as he rubbed slowly back and forth across her tongue.
“I was going to specify—before I was so rudely interrupted—” he went on pompously, “that I get to make my wife come on my cock.”
He shifted his hips as he finished reprimanding her, and she felt the smooth head of his cock nudge against her entrance. Her eyes dipped closed as he continued fucking her mouth with his fingers.
“Would you like that, baby?” he asked.
She nodded desperately as her cunt clenched.
He gave her a devious grin. “I didn’t hear you.”
She whimpered and gurgled yes the best that she could with her mouth full. A trickle of drool escaped the corner of her mouth, and he quickly withdrew his fingers and leaned down, catching the drip with his tongue and tracing it back to her lips.
“Good girl.”
Her hands went to his face at once, tugging his mouth to hers, and she moaned into the kiss as he dropped his weight onto her. She writhed beneath him, lifting her hips in a desperate bid to pull him inside her. As it was, grinding against the hard muscles of his abdomen felt pretty amazing, too. She felt him smirk against her lips as her kissing grew broken and breathy.
“Ready?” he murmured.
She answered, “Yes,” (though it sounded like please) clutching his shoulders as he reached down to position himself.
Her fingers dug into his skin as he dragged the head of his cock between her slick folds, and her back arched on a moan as he began to push inside.
“Fuck—” His mouth went slack around the edges as he rocked into her with shallow thrusts. “You feel… so fucking good.”
She could only nod her agreement as he slid slowly between her walls, working her open. Her chin lifted on a whine as he bottomed out deep in the back of her cunt, and she felt his fingers brush her temple as he paused for a moment.
“Are you comfortable?”
She opened her eyes to find him looking down at her with intense consideration, but that particular word choice brought a smile to her face as she was reminded of how far they had come—of the progress they’d made.
She reached up to trace a fingertip over his lips as she answered him with a grin. “Ten out of ten.”
It only took a second for him to place the reference, and when he did, his smile rivalled her own. He leaned down to kiss her, pressing forward, and she returned it the best she could with her jaw dropping in pleasure. He mostly got messy breaths and clumsy lips against his cheek as he began moving over her.
It wasn’t thrusting exactly; at least not in the sense that it was limited to his hips. Instead, the motion seemed to originate lower, more from his knees, driving into her with his entire body. He braced his weight on one elbow, leaving a hand free to caress every inch of her that wasn’t already pressed against his chest or stomach or legs.
She shuddered under his touch: a gentle graze along her arm, a palm covering her ribs, the dig of fingertips behind her leg. His ministrations were slow in a way that would have seemed lazy if they weren’t so methodical. But instead, the drag of his nails up her neck felt… patient. Like they had all the time in the world.
He was replicating the slide inside her along the entire length of her body, dipping his tongue into her mouth like he wanted to savour her taste.
All of it made her feel wanted in a way that was so profound it was almost cruel.
She sucked in a breath as his thumb brushed her nipple. “So… good,” she got out between uneven sighs, tilting her hips up to meet him.
“You like that?” he asked, circling the sensitive skin until it drew tight.
She moaned as her cunt clenched with the way she loved those little checks he did. The questions he already knew the answer to. Excuses for her to vocalise her pleasure.
“Yes,” she told him, watching shamelessly as he touched her.
“Want a little more?”
His tone was like smoke, low and solicitous, seeping through her brain and smothering the last of her inhibitions.
She whimpered for him. “Uh-huh.”
He brought his hand to his mouth, swiping saliva into his thumb and smoothing the slick pad back over her. She cried out as the sensation zipped like an electric shot straight to her cunt.
“Oh, god—it’s—it feels like...”
“Like what, baby?” he prompted when she trailed off.
Her eyes rolled as he grazed the very tip of her nipple in a deliberate tease. “Like touching my clit,” she admitted.
He made a little appreciative sound in the back of his throat before ducking his head and licking across her breast.
“Shit,” she sobbed, eyes squeezing shut.
“How’s that?” He closed his lips around her nipple, his hips snapping forward.
“Good—fuck—so good.”
“Like kissing your little clit?”
She nodded desperately, curls scraping over the pillow, as he pressed kiss after kiss against her. “Yes, yes. God—” He sucked lightly, flicking with his tongue, and she let out a heavy moan. This was almost better. This way she still got to feel his cock sliding in and out of her. Every ridge dragging against her walls before filling her perfectly again.
Her breath caught as she recognised the space between her hips tightening with tension. It filled her belly, feeling somehow heavy and light at the same time.
It was going to work. She was going to come. They would achieve joint pleasure.
Her eyes snapped open on a gasp. Joint pleasure.
“Oh, my god, I’m—” She gripped his arms. “Do we need to—together? Are you close?”
His pace faltered as he blinked at her panicked rush of words, and terror seized her heart. Why hadn’t they planned for this? She was so close; if she lost it now…
He crushed his mouth to hers again, grinding his hips hard and deep. His head dropped next to hers on a groan as she clenched around him in reflex. “Fuck, you don’t have to worry about that,” he ground out, lips pressed against her ear. “Yes, I’m close. Of course I’m fucking close.”
She shivered as every word sent a rush of warm breath over her neck, pooling in the crook of her shoulder. He sounded almost pained as he went on, “I’ve been close for fucking days, Granger.”
Gooseflesh rippled over her arms, and she moaned as his chest grazed her taut nipples on every thrust. Her hands slipped down to his back, urging him just a little bit faster.
“Keep going,” she whispered.
Whether he misunderstood her request or he couldn’t stop now that he’d started, she wasn’t sure, but though she was referring to the pace he had set, he also continued talking.
“You think you can just give me this perfect cunt and then ask me if I’m close?” His voice was low and rough, and she cried out as his teeth scraped the shell of her ear. “You think I could stand to feel you fall apart—squeezing me, soaking my fucking cock—and not come?”
He groaned like he could already feel it happening, and she shuddered as she felt his tongue on her earlobe, the hinge of her jaw. She thought her hair must be getting in his mouth, but he only pressed closer, sounding half-crazed and too far gone to care.
“You’re mad,” he muttered, seemingly more to himself than her at this point. He sucked hard over the pulse in her neck, his forehead rolling against her jaw as he drove into her again and again. “Out of your fucking mind if you thought that.”
“I didn’t—” she gasped, barely able to keep up.
He released the suction on her throat with a pop and raised his head to look at her again. “Come for me and see what happens.”
She whined as his hand dropped to the back of her thigh where her knee was inching along his side. He pressed it up and open, sliding even deeper. “Come on, baby,” he whispered, the words slipping out soft and sweet. He let the tip of his nose brush along hers. “Come for me and I’ll come for you.”
“I—I will,” she promised, clinging to him as it welled within her again.
“I know you will.” He nodded against her forehead, his voice going tight. “Because you’re—fuck—such a good girl.”
Her nails dug into his back as her hips drew tight. “Fuck,” she breathed, riding the crest. “Oh, fuck, I’m going to come.”
“That’s it, baby,” he said, and he sounded so proud. Like she’d earned it.
Her mouth fell open on a cry as the first pulse ricocheted through her. Pleasure flooded out from her core in sharp, relentless waves, and she watched Malfoy register the sensation through heavy lids.
The effect was immediate, just as he’d told her it would be, and even if she hadn’t been able to see it in the tension of his neck, the ripple of gooseflesh across his chest—if she hadn’t been able to hear it in the hoarse groan from his throat—if she hadn’t been able to feel the throb of his cock joining her own echoes—she still would have known.
Energy was shimmering behind her breastbone, more intensely than she’d ever felt before, but unmistakable nonetheless. She met Malfoy’s eyes, wide and clearly reflecting the awe she felt too as the bond between their magical cores was completed.
One of her hands came up between them, pressing over his heart, and wordlessly, he mirrored her. A blissful contentment, bone-deep and far beyond the realm of a normal orgasm, seeped outward from his touch, dousing her limbs in heavy satisfaction. Her eyelids dropped in a slow blink and she vaguely registered the trickle of moisture down over her temples.
She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, simply staring at each other, but Malfoy’s breathing had returned to a normal rate by the time she had regained her faculties enough to form words.
“It worked.”
As far as commentary went, it fell woefully short of encapsulating the literal mind-body-spirit transformation they had just undergone—looking into each other’s eyes as their magic knit together, binding them irrevocably. Forever.
Not to mention the earth-shattering orgasms.
Apparently, Malfoy was not so changed that he could resist the opportunity to rib her. “Told you so,” he said with a smirk.
When she rolled her eyes, he shook his head in exasperation. “Are you close? Merlin, Granger.”
“I didn’t want to assume!” she said defensively. “I suppose that’s why you like so much foreplay.”
To her surprise, he laughed loudly at that. “What?” she snapped as he shook on top of her.
He was regarding her with a kind of fond pity, the sort of expression one might bestow upon a little turtle that found itself stuck shell-side down. She didn’t care for it one bit.
“I truly cannot believe that someone has to tell you this,” he said. “But you are the one who likes foreplay so much. Potentially more than anyone else in the world. So much so that your master plan was to engage in nearly two weeks of it.”
Her head drew back in confusion. “That’s not—it wasn’t…”
As his words sank in, however, she supposed that technically their progression through the number scale could maybe be lumped into a similar category.
She gave an indignant huff. “Well, it’s not like there was another option for getting here.”
His lips pressed together as though to suppress a smile.
“You would have proposed something else?” she asked in disbelief.
“As a man, yes.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged the best he could while still laying over her. “Start fucking on Day 1. Pack in as many attempts as possible, and spend the two weeks allowing the kinks to work themselves out.” He smirked. “So to speak.”
She mouthed soundlessly for several moments. “But—well—but, why didn’t you suggest that?”
The fond look was back. “For the same reason I didn’t let you try to force yourself to come before you were ready: a bad experience would have set us back much further than simply taking it exceedingly slow.”
Her eyes flicked back and forth between his, but he seemed completely sincere. Something shifted in her chest as she thought back to the night he’d left her on the sofa to take care of herself.
“You really knew I wasn’t ready?” she asked in a small voice.
His chin dipped in a nod. “I saw the moment you went distant—clear as day. At least getting off by yourself to the memory still put the image of coming with me in your head. Perfectly respectable progress for one day.”
“And you let me think that you were just edging me for your own amusement,” she said, her chest feeling oddly tight.
“I was perfectly comfortable playing the villain if that’s what you needed.”
“I had no idea I was being so transparent with my needs.”
His face broke into a grin. “Oh, trust me, I know. It’s actually incredibly convenient. The fact that you’re unaware of it is just an adorable bonus.”
She scrunched her nose as he pressed a kiss to the tip of it.
“How embarrassing for you to be so low maintenance,” she said with a sniff. “Apparently all it takes to render you completely useless is a perfect cunt.”
His brows shot up his forehead. “You’d better watch it with talk like that or you’ll find out how little it truly takes.”
She laughed, pushing against his chest and rolling him off of her. He went without protest, hissing slightly as he slid out, and though both of them clearly felt the mess between her legs, neither of them made any move to cast a cleaning charm.
It’s the bond, she told herself as Malfoy propped himself on his side and trailed a gentle hand over her belly. It must be.
“It won’t—” She broke off as he glanced up at her. “I mean, I won’t—” Her throat clicked as she swallowed. “It’s past the right time. For this month.”
His hand fell to the blanket between them, and she regretted voicing her thoughts. It was a stark reminder that they had only cleared the first hurdle required of them. This was really only the beginning of their trials.
“We can try to use that—the timing, I mean—to… put it off,” he suggested. “For a while, maybe.”
Turning onto her side to face him, one hand nestled beneath her chin, she gave him a small smile. “Yeah, maybe.”
She appreciated the offer even though it was a bit of a risky proposition. There was no guarantee she would get pregnant right away, and every month they intentionally skipped would be one less opportunity during the year allotment.
She wasn’t ready to be a mother, but that wouldn’t change in twelve months’ time. In the moments when she was feeling particularly honest with herself, she wasn’t sure she was really suited to parenthood at all. But as Malfoy looked at her with such a painfully soft expression on his normally haughty features, she thought that her husband probably was. And if the last two weeks had shown her anything (other than the fact that she probably had a few more dormant kinks waiting to be discovered), it was that he would do whatever he could to help her be ready when the time came.
They would take it on together.
She raised a hand to his face, brushing the slightly damp fringe from his eyes. Her lips quirked in a smile as she spotted a piece at his hairline that the moisture had coiled into a tight ringlet.
“Did you really let Nilly curl your hair when you were young?” she asked, plucking the strand and watching it bounce.
The way his mouth dropped open in shock was answer enough.
“She told you that?” he asked, though there was no other way she could know.
Hermione nodded.
He gave an indignant scoff, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “So much for loyalty. If she wasn’t already free, I’d give her clothes for that.”
Hermione smacked his arm. “Don’t joke about that.”
He smirked at her, apparently completely returned to form by the opportunity to be an absolute bastard, and she shook her head. But despite the fact that there was every chance he would be incorrigible about it, Hermione couldn’t help asking something she’d been wondering about for days.
“Why did you free her? You already treated her well.”
Malfoy looked away, and Hermione held her breath as she watched a muscle work in his jaw.
“I wasn’t willing to have someone bound to me in subservience,” he said after a long moment. “Compelled to do my bidding against their will. I—” He swallowed heavily, and Hermione suspected that if his left arm wasn’t hidden from view beneath the pillows she would have seen it twitch.
“I understand,” she said quietly.
He met her eyes again, and though he looked sceptical that she could really understand what that felt like, he nodded all the same. She debated pressing the issue further, but she had never really been good at letting things lie.
“Do you think more house elves would be amenable to freedom if they could keep the link to their ancestral magic like you’ve done for Nilly.”
“Yes,” Malfoy said simply.
Hermione chewed her lip. Their honeymoon was technically over; she would be expected back in Magical Creatures tomorrow. But with the way her progress in elf rights had been all but stalled by bureaucratic nonsense for the past several months, she hardly saw the point.
“Would you be willing to tell me about the spells you used? The ritual you designed?”
“Yes.”
She drew in a nervous breath. “And if other families wanted to follow your example, would you consider helping me to—”
“Yes.”
“I’m not sure how it would work outside the Ministry, but—”
“Hermione,” he interrupted, curling a hand over her hip. “Yes.”
She nodded shakily at the sudden heat in his gaze. Like he would indulge her in anything.
“What else?” he asked.
“Will you let Gemma teach you how to ride a bicycle?”
He breathed a laugh. “Sure.”
“Can I pick the next movie we watch?”
He nodded, and she lifted her hand to trace over the lines of his chest. “Will you still let me sit on your lap?” she whispered.
His hand slid down over her arse. “Only if you’re good.”
Her eyelids fluttered as he squeezed hard, and she filed the potential of what he might do if she was bad away for later. Heat was pooling between her legs again, and the sight of his cock growing hard against his hip made her voice come out breathless.
“Will you make me come again?”
She sucked in a gasp as his arm wrapped around her waist, yanking her on top of him. His lips were rough against hers as he murmured, “I thought you’d never ask.”
***
Hermione hadn’t really been concerned that their first time was some sort of fluke, but she was pleased all the same to find that the sex continued to be inordinately good and that Malfoy was more than willing to get her off even when it wasn’t strictly necessary.
In fact, he’d done it twice in short order. She wasn’t exactly sure how short, but as a charmed envelope swooped into the room and landed on the bed next to them, she figured it was approximately the time it took for an owl to reach her house from central London.
“That is exceptionally disturbing,” Malfoy intoned from where he was laying between her legs.
“I couldn’t agree more,” she said as she scowled at the addressees.
Mr and Mrs Draco Malfoy
“Do you mind?” she asked him, thumb already sliding beneath the flap.
“Be my guest,” he said with his chin against her stomach.
She unfolded the parchment and quickly scanned the page.
“Well?”
“‘... heartfelt congratulations on the successful consummation of your union…’” Hermione read in a bored voice. “‘... sincere wishes for a lifetime of continued harmony in your marriage.’” She snorted. “... no greater blessing than compassionate partnership... hopeful for the swift addition of a child… duty to the Wizarding World… penalty for non-compliance…’”
She tossed the letter over the side of the bed. “A lot of words for congratulations on shagging, don’t forget you’re just a broodmare. ”
When she settled back against the pillows, she noticed Malfoy watching her intently. She didn’t even realise she’d been fiddling with her wedding band until she followed his gaze to it. She dropped her hand, and his eyes lifted back to hers.
“Will you marry me?”
Her breath caught. “W-We’re already married.”
“Will you marry me properly?” he amended, shifting higher on her chest. “With vows we write ourselves and your father walking you down the aisle. Where Nilly can fix your hair and you get to wear a real gown.” Her heart pounded in her chest as he pressed his lips to the bottom of the tattoo between her breasts. “As long as it’s cut down to your fucking belly button so I can see this the whole time.”
The ghost of a laugh puffed past her lips. “That sounds highly inappropriate.”
“It’s highly necessary,” he murmured, slowly kissing his way along the thick scar. “These flowers remind me of all my favourite things about you.
“Beautiful.” Kiss.
“Wild.” Kiss.
“Pest.” Kiss.
“Stubborn.” Kiss.
He lifted his head to look her in the eye. “Hard to kill.”
The words hung between them as she blinked against the sting of tears. It was terrifying to consider how close they had actually come to letting this mess destroy them. Especially after everything they had both survived before.
But though they hadn’t chosen each other the first time, there was nothing stopping them from doing it now.
“Yes,” she breathed. “We may have to compromise on the dress, but… yes.”
His teeth flashed in a wide grin, and she returned it as he shifted forward to kiss her. His hand sank into her hair, pulling her against his mouth, and she gave a contented sigh through her nose. He pulled back after a moment, breathing with his head resting against hers. She nuzzled into his palm, pressing a kiss against his wrist, and opened her eyes to the sprawl of black ink over pale skin. She gazed at the Dark Mark in front of her face, idly tracing the lines with her eyes and—
Her head drew back in surprise. “What the hell is that?”
Malfoy glanced down and then chuckled. “Oh, I almost forgot.”
She stared as he shifted around, sitting up with the sheet across his lap and extending his forearm for her inspection.
The Mark itself was the same, but next to the serpent’s open mouth, the thin outline of a speech bubble had been added. Inside it, three words were tattooed as though the creature was speaking them.
Live
Laugh
Love
Hermione let out a shocked laugh. “That is the stupidest thing I have ever seen.”
Malfoy beamed at her. “I know. Isn’t it brilliant?”
She shook her head as she looked down at the most infamous symbol of evil in magical history seemingly espousing the most basic tenets for finding happiness in this dark and depressing world.
“It’s perfect,” she said, feeling suddenly like crying again. Her fingers slid over the lines, freshly healed with a charm. “This is where you were today?”
He nodded. “The tattoo bloke thought it was hilarious.”
“I can only imagine.”
“But a wise person once told me that just because it’s silly, doesn’t mean it’s not good advice.”
Hermione looked up to find him watching her again. “I did say that,” she agreed quietly.
He reached out and took her hand, squeezing gently. “I’ve kept you alive, and I can make you laugh, but… I think I can help with the third one, too.”
Her chest heaved as she resisted the urge to look back down at his arm. She knew what he was referring to, of course, and so she held his gaze as she considered whether love might be a part of their life together.
He had told her once that he wasn’t asking her for happily ever after, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to give it to him anyway.
She thought maybe he was remembering that conversation, too, because he added, “If you’ll let me.”
Hermione smiled.
And she let him.
