Chapter 1: A Disastrous Marriage Indeed
Chapter Text
They married on a warm Saturday afternoon in June. Her forearm was delicate beneath his hand, her fingers wrapped tightly around his own as they whisper the incantation, thin ribbons of golden magic intertwined with their flesh as they declared themselves man and wife with their mind, body, and soul.
The rich brown of her irises glimmer from the flash of light, the afternoon sun bathing her in gold, twinkling through her thick curls. Her cheeks are rosy, lips ever so pink and plump as they lean in for their first kiss bound together.
He supposed he was rather lucky to have gotten himself a pretty wife.
They turn towards the gathering of family and friends, hands clasped together, and walk away Lord and Lady Malfoy.
It was such a shame they weren’t in love.
The announcement of their engagement had been met with unsurprising mixed reviews.
His mother mourns the loss of their precious pureblood lineage, lip wobbling for only a moment before her eyes lock on the glowing review of their engagement in the Prophet. The gears turn quickly, face quickly pulled back to neutral before looking back to Draco.
“You have a plan?” She asks, “Your father will be much more reactive.”
“I have a plan.” He reassures, “She’s agreed to a love story, it will be…it will be good.”
There’s a pause, tension thick as they both peer down the hallway to ensure his father won’t pop around the corner.
“Make quick work of it. Things must be set in stone before anyone can argue.” Is her only warning, gaze wavering before snapping back to the paper, sending Draco on his way.
A quick wedding it would be.
His friends on the other hand have very mixed reactions.
“Why marry her? This cannot be your last option, Draco.”
Draco sighs, kicking off his boots before lounging his feet up in the settee. Rather improper, but it had been quite a day.
“I cannot marry a pureblood wife if I ever plan on entering society again. She’s the perfect option.” Draco says.
“Well, I like the idea.” Blaise chimes in, knocking back the rest of his whiskey while Pansy huffs.
“No, you just want an excuse to be around Padma Patil more, and you know Granger is friends with her.” She says, eyes narrow.
Blaise shrugs.
“I didn’t say it was a good idea, I just said I liked it.”
“What exactly did you agree to?” Theo asks, leaning around to refill Blaise’s glass.
“She gives me at least one heir, and I sign her permission form to pursue a mastery.”
" She’s getting married just to pursue her mastery? ” Pansy screeches, throwing her hands up in frustration.
“Well yes, Pansy. Her father certainly can’t sign the form now can he?” He drawls. “You couldn’t honestly believe after Hogwarts that Hermione Granger would just sit around and be a diligent wife?”
She grumbles, grabbing Blaise’s glass from his hand and taking a swig.
“Hey!” Blaise protests as she hands back his whiskey.
“You can’t stand each other.”
“We’ll barely see each other. Your parents have managed not to commit homicide after all.”
“Fine! But when this all blows up in your face, don’t say I didn’t say anything!”
“Pansy, I would never accuse you of not saying anything.”
She throws her fan at him. How undignified.
Lady Hermione Jean Granger Malfoy
That’s what she writes along the dotted line of their marriage certificate for the ministry. Harry fucking Potter signs just below her as their witness.
Draco raises a brow, but says nothing, enough of a gentleman to know when to keep his mouth shut.
She had no guardians, the line empty next to the glimmering ink that was still wet from his own father’s signature. He reminds himself this is beneficial to both of them. A deal. They both got what they wanted.
Potter rests a gentle hand on her shoulder as she steps back, leaning into his touch.
The ministry official takes the certificate, putting it into a briefcase before pulling out a file and handing it to Draco.
“As her husband, you now have access to Miss Granger— err , Lady Malfoy’s estates. You should find the deeds and any other information needed within the file.” And with a crack he’s gone.
Draco stares wide eyed at the file.
“Estates?” Is all he manages before her delicate fingers take the papers from him.
“Oh yes, I am a woman of means, Lord Malfoy. With my parents gone and I the sole heir having the misfortune of being a woman, if I didn’t marry then the familial properties would have gone to some third cousin once removed.” With a flick of her wrist the file disappears from between her fingers. “Thank goodness I have a husband to manage it properly.”
Her voice was thick with sarcasm, and Potter cracks a smile.
“Shall we return to the reception, my lord?”
Granger links her arm with his, guiding him from the parlor back into the veranda where all the guests socialize.
Potter follows close behind.
Granger holds herself with grace and poise, her hand postured perfectly into the crook of his elbow as they make proper rounds to thank guests.
“We’ll pose for our portrait tomorrow.” He informs and she hums in acknowledgment, wandering over to where couples dance.
“We haven’t danced yet.”
“Oh.” He blinks. “Would you like to?”
She nods.
Her waist is soft under his hand, radiating warmth from beneath the fabric of her gown, her gentle scent of lavender and lilac soothing as the breeze carries it around him.
Draco didn’t know she could dance. They had lessons in school of course, but nothing to this extent.
Clearly, he knew nothing about her. Her parents had status before their death, properties that were now under his name that he would at least have the decency to let her keep an eye on. Granger had come from money, from a family of means.
She danced like it, elegant as she let him twirl her, skirts billowing as they turn.
Potter steals her from him as soon as they finish, whisking her back around the dance floor.
It was going to be a long evening.
“The Malfoy name is now listed on the deed to muggle land?” Father drawls, expression bored but Draco knows better.
“It would seem so.” Is all Draco says, deciding not to butcher any good graces he can achieve with his new wife. “Think of what the Daily Prophet will say.”
The papers were having a field day with them as it was. The Malfoy name already lifting itself as it came into association with Hermione Granger. Rita Skeeter wrote that they were in love, utter moon eyed fools that carried a forbidden love affair during the war.
Granger is nice enough to agree to it all.
Potter and Weasley must be informed just as his own friends are, his back could be practically turn to shreds from all the sharp glances he’d received through the evening.
Draco steals his wife back after she makes her rounds with Arthur Weasley and each of the damn brothers. Quite enough Weasley’s for his taste.
She was unfortunately an excellent partner.
He decided to make it the last dance of the evening, making a big show of dipping her low and kissing her, those not aware of the farce clapping as they fool them with their apparent moon-eyed love.
Idiotic indeed.
She wasn’t a virgin.
Granger had told him so before officially agreeing to marriage. She had told him that he had a right to know, brows raised as she surely expected this would be the thing to turn him away from the agreement.
In a typical pureblood marriage contract it absolutely would, many different pureblood witches sent away to marry in different countries if her reputation were less than agreeable in the area. Before the war his own parents had upturned their noses at many contracts.
But this was not a pureblood marriage contract and his own reputation was less than agreeable, his parents had sealed him right into it.
He agreed to an unbreakable vow despite it all.
It’s not like he was a virgin either, fumbling into bed with Pansy Parkinson the night they all thought they were going to die. He imagined Granger had probably found herself in a similar situation.
How he sits and waits on her bed, gaze drifting from the book he had snagged from the bedside table to the door of the master bath where she prepares herself.
Draco isn’t quite sure what to expect, prepared to take lead if needed and try to give them both a more positive experience. How was a husband expected to have intercourse with his wife? Was there a need for passion when the only goal was procreation?
His thoughts are interrupted by the creek of the door, Granger tentatively stepping out in her nightdress, dark gleaming curiously in the low light. The white silken fabric flows over her, little trims of lace decorating the bodice, her neckline dipping temptingly low and revealing her ample cleavage.
He realizes that this is the first time since their childhood that he’s seen her hair undone, curls falling around her shoulders, much tamer than he remembers.
The candles flicker as she steps closer.
“Shall I—“ He tried to begin, but then she unties her night dress, the silk falling to a puddle at her feet with such fluid it could have been water.
Oh dear.
Hermione Granger was– well to put it lightly , she was the most bewitching creature he’d ever laid eyes on. She was soft, flesh supple, his hands itch at his sides to roam the plains of her curves. Her hips were wide, breasts full and heavy, he wanted to sink his teeth into the curve of her thigh.
Then, as if she hadn’t just stolen the air from his lungs, gestures for him to do the same. It takes just a moment for his brain to catch up with his motor functions, shedding his shirt before fumbling with the ties to his breeches.
Her eyes flicker over him, gaze catching on his cock as it sits at half-mast and rising as he continues to look at her. Her expression reveals nothing, giving him no sign of whether she feels similarly pleased with his body.
“Lie back.” She instructs, voice soft as a lullaby that he is helpless to disobey.
Draco feels as though he’s caught in the call of a siren song, slipping down onto the sheets as she crosses the room, her curls swaying as that curious glint returns to her . The candlelight weaves shadows across the both of them, soft as the darkness curls about, the bed shifts as she crawls over him.
He thinks perhaps there is a trap to her gaze, sucked into the deep mahogany of her irises.
Granger is warm as she hovers, his blood like fire in his veins as she perches on his thighs, looking curiously at his cock. He wonders vaguely who had been her first. Was it Weasley? Or perhaps Potter?
They had gone on the run together after all, Draco had heard the gossip of the scandalous tent they’d stayed in. Improper, and if they hadn’t saved the wizarding world then their reputations surely would have been dragged through the mud.
She pauses in her movement, looking back up for permission as he nods, breathing deep as her fingers explore the plain of his abdomen. It’s all much more intimate than he expected, biting down on his tongue as her hand wraps around his cock, holding back a groan at the very sight of it. She’s gentle, guiding him upward so she can hover over him.
Tension makes a thick blanket over them, little strings hold him together, their gazes never breaking as she waits. He’s not sure what she’s waiting for, but he holds fast, wondering if he’s even breathing as they stare.
Granger gives him no warning, everything breaking as she finally sinks down, swallowing his cock into her heat and he swears at the very feeling of it. She doesn’t stop until she’s fully seated, taking him all in a practiced way that has him worried about his performance all of a sudden.
It was too perfect, too much as her little hands rested on his chest for support.
It’s as she sits perfectly still that he remembers he has hands, resolve breaking as he finds the swell of her hip, gripping handfuls of her flesh. She is just as perfect beneath his fingertips as she is to his eyes, soft and supple as he guides her up and then back down again.
She lets him pick the tempo, following what he pleases, and he wonders if she’ll allow his hands to wander up and palm her breasts, to drag his thumbs over the dark pink peaks of her nipples and feel the heavy weight of them.
He’s a coward, keeping hold of her hips, squeezing greedily as pleasure builds low in his abdomen. His gaze finally flickers up from the glory of her body, drinking in the rosy flush that sits high on her cheeks, the flames of the candle waver in the gleam of her eyes.
And she— she just stares up at the sweeping curtains of her bedpost, looking quite bored.
Granger might as well have taken the sharpest blade she could find and drag it through his chest to let him bleed out and die a slow, painful death.
What was he doing wrong?
She didn’t seem to be in any discomfort, the slide in and out of her cunt fairly easy— although he supposed she could have casted a lubrication charm…
What more could she need?
Draco is tempted to ask, but the squeeze of her around his cock makes his thoughts fuzzy. There had been so much layered between them only moments ago, the soft touch of her hands nearly sending him spiraling. Perhaps he had been right about passion being unnecessary for husbands and wives.
Granger catches him staring, blinking at him in surprise and her flush burning a little brighter.
He feels caught in her, warmth flooding through him at having her attention, his hips bucking as his nails dig into the curve of her arse. Her walls flutter around him, a groan tearing from his throat at the feeling, watching the pink of her tongue wet her lips.
He’d quite like to kiss her again.
Perhaps it’s because he’d rather die than see that bored expression on her face again or because he’s drunk on the smothering heat of her cunt, but he sits up, pulling her into him for a kiss.
She gasps against his lips, falling forward as his cock presses deeper into her. Her pelvis tilts forward and he watches in awe as her lashes flutter, teeth pulling at her bottom lip as her cunt grips at him.
Granger wraps her legs around him, pulling him impossibly tighter, her gaze darting across his face as she seems to search for something.
“Do that again.” There’s that siren song, soft and smooth as it drips across his brain, his cock throbbing at the sound.
Draco does as he’s told, pulling at her hips so her pelvis tilts against his again, she grinds down against him in response.
A little moan slips from her lips, bottom lip wobbling as she becomes impossibly slicker, looking at him through heavy lids.
Then her lips are crashing against his again, arms wrapping around him and pressing her breasts against his chest, skin to skin as he slips his tongue into her mouth, the taste of champagne bubbling over him.
He learns quickly that in order to keep her making those sounds he needs to keep rocking her forward, bodies pressing close together, hands winding up in her curls and tugging until her head tilts back and exposes her throat.
Draco stares at the smooth skin of her neck, wondering if she would like it if he peppered kisses up and down, or perhaps sank down until the indents of his teeth lingered.
He didn’t have time to debate on these thoughts, because suddenly her eyes snapped open, the sharp curve of her nails scraping across his shoulder blades, pitch peaky as words tumble from her lips.
“Malfoy, I—” Another gasp as he rolls his hips into hers, “Something is— I don’t– I’ve never—”
Because he’s not a complete imbecile, he gathers rather quickly what’s going on.
Draco isn’t quite sure how to soothe. Comforting feelings were not his strong suit and having his cock buried deep in her cunt certainly wasn’t assisting in his thought process. Instead he tries to encourage it to just happen before she can overthink it.
How very Granger, overthinking an orgasm.
He keeps a steady pace, rocking her exactly how she likes and trying to smother the loom of his own climax until she finishes first.
“Just like that,” He encourages, murmuring low as he watches her carefully. “Follow it— you’re doing so well—”
Her eyes are panicky, but must trust him enough because she listens, which is an odd feeling. She begins to flutter around him, trembling in his grasp as she hangs on the edge.
“Let go, I’ve got you– just let go for me—”
And she does.
Granger’s eyes roll back, lashes fluttering as her body goes limp in his grasp, each wave of her climax wracking through her little body. It’s a little embarrassing how quickly his own orgasm hits him once she topples over the edge, unable to hold back any longer, each pulsing squeeze of her cunt milking him as he spills inside her.
His vision fuzzes over, dropping his forehead to her shoulder, mouthing at the top of her breast as he continues to rock them through the aftershocks. Granger mewls, chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath.
For a moment it is only the two of them in the world.
Bodies sticky as their breath fills the air between them, candle smoke and shadows curling through the room as his lips linger on her skin until he has the good sense to look back up at her. All the time he had taken to catch his breath was wasted because the look of wonder on her face just steals it all right from her lungs.
Her eyes sparkle, pupils swallowing the pretty mahogany of her irises and leaving only a little ring of the rich hue, and he thinks they may swallow him up too.
“I didn’t know it could be like that.” She whispers, hands gentle as she sweeps his hair off his sweaty forehead, slow as her knuckles brush across his cheeks.
His heart thumps wildly in his chest, surely she can hear it, rattling against his ribcage as he holds her in his lap.
Draco didn’t know it could be like that either. He’d had his fair share of experiences, twice with Pansy and a few dalliances with some parlor girls on his trip to France, but nothing had ever felt like that before.
It’s only after realizing that his cock is beginning to soften inside her that he removes himself, watching with a worrying fascination as his spend leaks from the swollen lips of her cunt and drips down the creamy skin of her thighs. Something stirs low in him, tempted to swirl his fingers in the mess and press it back up inside of her.
He pushes down the thought, instead laying down on the bed next to her, staring up at the dark ceiling of her canopy.
Granger shifts, leaning on her elbow and tilting her chin to look at him properly. Her curls tilt with her, rich brown pooling in the sheets around where she rests her arm. She has that glint in her eye, the one when she wants to know something, desperate for knowledge.
Draco had become rather familiar with that look during their shared years at school.
“How did you know to do all that?”
He can’t help the scoff that leaves his throat, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.
“I’m assuming the same way you did Granger, neither of us were virgins—”
“No, at the end.” There is no playfulness about her, deathly serious as she raises her eyebrows expectantly. “That’s never happened to me before.”
Draco had gathered that much, clearly from the way she had completely panicked at the feeling.
“Well it wasn’t hard to see you weren’t enjoying yourself at first.” He states simply, expecting a reaction but gets nothing, just that same expectant expression. “I wanted to—”
He cuts himself off, refusing to admit that he’d felt compelled to kiss her again.
“I wanted to see if changing the angle would be better for you.” He decides on instead, watching as she considers his words.
“Oh.” Granger blinks in surprise. “That’s just what I thought intercourse felt like, before–before you moved.”
Now Draco really wonders who she’d been fucking before this, he had a few questions for the lad. Not that he was the best by any means, but you’d have to be blind not to notice she wasn’t feeling anything.
“Always?”
“What?”
“That’s what it always felt like? Before?” He clarifies and she nods.
Draco wonders suddenly what all she’s actually experienced. Has she ever had her neck kissed? Or hands roam over her body to grope and squeeze each curve? Has anyone ever left little love bites across her flesh?
More importantly, would she let him?
Granger stands suddenly, as if everything she needs to know has been decided.
“Well then, I’m off to take a bath.” She snags her nightdress from the floor, draping it over her arm. “Goodnight, Malfoy.”
He watches her with confusion, but does take a moment to let his gaze drop and admire her bum as she walks back to the master bath connected to her bedroom.
An odd bird, Granger was.
Taking the hint, he wanders back to his own bedroom and does his best not to think about the fact that he’s a married man, and married to Hermione Granger of all people no less.
Chapter 2: A Hands On Experiment
Summary:
“It took me quite a while to find a proper diagram with an explanation, but after combing through the entire library, I’ve finally found something.” She moves her finger to the text below the diagram. “After the hint of information here and some of my own testing, this is what we did correctly.”
Draco lets his eyes wander over the text, brows furrowing before looking up to the corresponding part of the diagram. External stimulation?
His brain is caught on her words, catching up to the meaning behind them.
“You did your own testing? What does that even mean?” He looks up at her again, now quite curious, the erection he’d already woken up with now much more interested in the conversation.
_
Hermione makes good use of the library, and who is Draco to deny her idea of a more hands on experiment?
Notes:
Hello my loves,
Many apologies for the delay! I went on vacation and then my body decided to immediately get sick when I got home! Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter because it was a hoot and a holler to write. Hermione is nothing but an academic, and if she has questions, you bet your ass she's going to get herself an answer. Lucky for Draco this sometimes works in his favor.
Our two favorite idiots get to know each other a little better and spend some quality time together.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“There’s a library here, yes?”
Draco turns his head, blinking at her in bewilderment.
“Lord Malfoy, you must remain still.” Hisses the poor artist that had been working on their portrait for the past hour.
Right, focus.
He turns his head back towards the painter, flexing his grip on the chair she currently sits in. His feet ache, joints still from standing in one position for so long. At least she got the sit.
“Yes, there’s a library. It’s not quite as large as the one at Malfoy Manor, but it’s good sized.” He thinks for a moment. “I’m surprised you haven’t found it yet.”
“There are a few rooms in the house where I can’t get the door open.” She mutters, annoyance oozing from her tone.
Draco tries not to wince, flexing his hand again.
“My apologies, there must be some wards we missed when clearing the dark magic.”
“It’s fine.” She pauses. “Would you care to make it up to me?”
Draco hesitates, Granger could be an utter wild card somedays.
“How would I make it up to you?”
“I suppose you won’t be freeing your house elves?” Draco snorts at the question, quite undignified and ungentlemanly, but she deserved it.
“No, I will not.”
“Fine, then my request is that I do not want to be served by them.” She says.
“You’re ridiculous.” He sighs. “How do you expect to get dressed in the morning?”
She turns her head, exasperation written across her features.
“Magic.” She says so plainly, as if he’s the one being foolish .
“Lady Malfoy!” The artist snips, causing Granger to snap forward. “Please sit still.”
Draco watches as she settles back into her seat, adjusting her posture, gloved hands smoothing down her skirt.
She looked more lovely than he’d care to admit out loud in green. She’d refused to wear the color at first, old house rivalries rearing up as she glared at him over breakfast. He’d won the argument only by pointing out she needed to be in Malfoy house colors and by reluctantly agreeing to allow a much lighter shade.
Her curls were pinned up with pearls, dainty and delicate as they were swallowed by her mass of hair.
“No.” He says, still much too annoyed with her, refusing to be swayed by her beauty.
She huffs, posture wavering for just a moment before straightening again, he can practically feel the anger rolling off of her.
They sit in silence for another hour and a half before the artist finishes, calling them forward to look at the canvas.
She was made to be painted, created with loving swirls of golds and pinks, the rich mahogany of her irises as striking through the canvas as they were in real life. Draco feels as though he’s been struck by a bludger at the image of the two of them together, at the soft curve of her cheek, the little dots of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
“There will be finishing touches, and then we’ll move on to individual portraits.” The artist bows as he takes his leave, leaving just the two of them left in the hall.
He softens.
“I’ll take Mippy off your current schedule.” He relents, watching as she brightens. “But you cannot leave here unaccompanied, you must take a house elf with you if you go anywhere.”
Her smile is like sunlight, a beam that leaves him worryingly warm, a rosy hue to her cheeks that matched her portrait. She raises a brow expectantly, confusing him for a moment before he realizes what she wants.
“And I’ll remove the wards barring you from the library.”
She’s off in a flurry, a whirl of taffeta skirts as her heels click across the tile. He’s left in the quiet of her wake, standing alone with their portrait.
After wiggling her way into the library, Draco barely sees her over the next few days.
Which is fine because Draco was kept plenty busy trying to organize their current property, while he’d helped his father with estate matters back at the manor, he’d never actually done any management on his own.
He can honestly say that he’s quite surprised when she barges into his room at the ungodly hour of half past six in the morning, still dressed in her nightgown and clutching a book under her arm as she shakes him awake.
“What the fuck—” He hisses, all sense of propriety out the window because as he stated before, it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet .
“A truly charming way to speak to your wife.” She says, sitting herself at his feet and opening up the leather-bound book. “I’ve been doing research.”
Draco is going to lose his mind.
“I swear to Merlin—”
“I’ve found the reason why I enjoyed what you did.”
Then, because Draco has definitely lost his mind, perhaps even slipped into another dimension— Granger tilts the book forward to show him a diagram of female genitalia.
Maybe he was still dreaming.
No, this was too bizarre to be a dream, even by his standards.
Utterly speechless, he just stares, rubbing his hands over his eyes to ensure this was actually happening.
Granger is not deterred by any of his reactions, pointing a finger at the diagram.
“It took me quite a while to find a proper diagram with an explanation, but after combing through the entire library, I’ve finally found something.” She moves her finger to the text below the diagram. “After the hint of information here and some of my own testing, this is what we did correctly.”
Draco lets his eyes wander over the text, brows furrowing before looking up to the corresponding part of the diagram. External stimulation?
His brain is caught on her words, catching up to the meaning behind them.
“You did your own testing? What does that even mean?” He looks up at her again, now quite curious, the erection he’d already woken up with now much more interested in the conversation.
“Meaning I tried it, it was quite successful.” She says simply, clinical in a way that made him raise a brow. He’s not quite sure how to respond. What was her purpose for waking him up to show him this information? Did she think he had been as curious as she was?
Taking his confusion over the situation as confusion over how it worked, she tilts her head at him.
“Would you like to see?” She’s already lifting her skirts, exposing her plush thighs and creamy skin. Now that gets his attention.
Yes, Draco thinks he would like to see.
Just as before, she was unashamed in her nudity, not a moment of hesitation as she lifts her skirts higher and parts her legs to show him.
He hadn’t looked at her so completely on their wedding night, the peak of her from between her thighs. His cock twitches excitedly below the sheets. She was dark pink satin before him, shiny and glistening as if just the idea of teaching him something was arousing to her.
Draco would also consider himself somewhat of an academic, quite interested in seeing how it all worked.
“This is the area that responds to external stimulation, the clitoris— this is the only text that gives it a name.” She informs, a little smile flitting across her lips.
“Should we…try again? With more direct stimulation?” He asks, “I can use my fingers.”
His cock twitches at the idea, memory flashing to the pretty little noises she’d made before. Granger also seems rather intrigued by this, rising up from where she sat to crawl over his legs.
She lets him pull back the blanket, raising an amused brow to find him nude.
“Somehow, I’m not surprised.” She mutters, but her expression betrays her, eyes dark and heavy lidded as she looks at him.
The glide into her is terribly easy, fingers digging into the swell of her hips, groaning as her cunt sucks him in.
Draco tugs at the silk of her nightgown impatiently.
“I’d like this off–”
Granger complies, pulling the fabric off to reveal that she was just as perfect as he remembered. He thought perhaps he had imagined it, but it was every bit as tempting as before.
“Can I touch you here?” He asks, testing the waters, sliding a hand up the soft plain of her belly, ghosting beneath her breast.
She looks at him curiously, brows furrowing as she nods.
“Has anyone ever touched you here?”
“Why would they want to?” She asks.
Sweet Merlin, what giant idiot had been fucking Granger before this?
Draco gives her a tentative squeeze, overflowing in his palm as he drags his thumb over her nipple. Her eyes widened in response, the walls of her cunt fluttering.
She seemed to have liked it when he kissed her before, so he indulges again, rocking her body forward and pressing his lips to hers. She parts sweetly for him, tasting of morning tea and sugary pastries as his tongue dances along hers.
She’s so snug, overwhelmingly tight and warm as he tries to get ahold of himself, lost in the sensation of pressing farther inside her and the feel of her lips.
Granger is an impatient little thing, fingers wrapping around his hand to guide him lower, just above where their bodies meet. There’s a dull pulse beneath his fingertips, puffy and sticky as he swirls her slowly.
Her sounds are his reward, eagerly swallowing each one as her thighs tighten around him. He watches her carefully, trying different movements to see what she likes best. She tightens around him when he draws quick circles.
“Faster—” She encourages, lashes fluttering so prettily as he complies, lewd noises echoing through the bedroom as their skin smacks together.
His heart thuds heavily in his chest, one hand working its way into her hair like before, pulling back to press open mouthed kisses across the column of her throat, teeth scraping as pleasure builds in his abdomen.
“Oh yes–that’s–that’s—” She trembles around him, “Malfoy–”
“Tell me what you want, darling.” He drags his tongue down the hollow of her throat, mouthing at the top of her breast before suckling at her nipple and she practically keens for him.
“It’s happening again, I’m so close—I feel—” Her lower lip wobbles adorably as he looks up at her through his lashes, watching her on the brink of losing control.
“You’re doing so well, let me feel you—” Draco praises.
Granger breaks so beautifully, pretty lips parting as she moans, eyes rolling back as her climax takes hold. Her cunt clamps around him, sending him spiraling into his own orgasm, his vision fuzzing as he spills inside her.
He holds her in his lap for a moment, bodies pressed together as he comes down from his high.
Draco decides to pull her down into the bed with him, it was much too early to be awake anyway. He didn’t normally rise until eight o’clock. They had at least another hour.
She pauses for a moment, unsure as she stares at him.
“What?”
“I can go.” She offers and he rolls his eyes.
“Are you capable of relaxing?”
Granger huffs, shimming down into the blankets as he closes his eyes, drifting off into the warmth around him.
She was gone when he woke up, clearly she was not capable of relaxing. Perhaps one of these days he would tire her out.
“Tell Mippy to let me leave the house.”
She stomps into his office without even bothering to knock, dressed sharp and hair put up. It’s odd to think he was inside of her only a few hours ago.
“You know, knocking is considered polite.”
“You told me I could leave if I took Mippy with me, but Mippy said I cannot leave!” She huffs, arms crossed and eyes deadly serious.
“Well yes, I did say that because it’s technically true. Just not right now, neither of us can leave for the next two weeks.” He puts down his quill, leaning back in his chair to look at her properly.
That catches her off guard, arms dropping to her sides as her eyes widen.
“ Two weeks? Whatever for?”
“We’re in our honeymoon. Pureblood couples are not to leave their estate for the first two weeks of their marriage, otherwise it’s considered bad luck for conception.” Draco says.
“That’s what you lot call a honeymoon?” Granger frowns, the corner of her lips pinched in displeasure.
“Why? Do you have a different definition?”
“Yes, a honeymoon is when a newly married couple take a trip together to celebrate their nuptials.” She says. “You’re telling me I’m trapped here because your people decided now is the time to be making babies?”
“You’re not trapped, don’t be so ridiculous.”
They stare at each other, unblinking and unyielding as she glares.
“Can people come here?”
“No, this period is just for the couple to become familiar with each other.”
“You’ve got to be joking, just you and I for two weeks? Pray tell what exactly we should be doing.”
Draco gives her a grin.
“I do believe you said making babies, yes?”
Granger leaves the room in a whirl of skirts, huffing the entire way. He returns to his work.
She was being rather ridiculous. It’s not like he was trapping her purposefully, it was simply tradition, and they couldn’t risk the appearance of their relationship already.
Plus she had the entire library, surely she would put it to good use.
It only takes her a day to approach him with three letters of application to different mastery universities in need of his signature.
He lets his eyes skim over the contents as he signs, little snippets of her interests, peaking into the research she so badly wanted to be involved in.
She leaves his office humming this time, and it’s a pleasant change from the huffing and puffing from before.
Another six letters of application in the next two days, the sun glares in from the windows behind him as he signs the most recent letters.
The heat is miserable, sweat sticking at the back of his neck as he casts a cooling charm over himself. His gaze flickers up as he hands the letters back to her, catching on the bead of sweat that rolls down her neck.
“How many more universities are you going to apply to?”
“No more, these were the last ones within flooing distance.” She says, careful and precise as she tucks the parchment into each envelope. He assists in sealing them, melting the wax and watching as she stamps each one with the Malfoy crest.
“Whatever shall you do with the rest of your free time?” He teases, leaning back in his chair, undoing the buttons around his collar, tugging to give himself room to breathe.
Granger watches him, head tilting ever so slightly, that curious look fluttering across her features.
Then, she sets the envelopes down, slowly crossing back behind his desk, fingers dragging across the glossy mahogany. She looks at him through her lashes, a little smile crossing over her lips.
It’s quite pathetic how quickly his heart responds to her, picking up speed with no hesitation, keeping his expression neutral as she stands in front of him.
“What was it you said before? About what we should be using this time for?” Granger lowers her face closer to his, she smelled of perspiration, of sunshine and lilacs. Her linen skirts sway temptingly around her hips, bent just enough forward to give him an eyeful of her cleavage beneath her neckline.
Draco turns towards her fully, giving her room, and she carefully climbs into his lap. Her weight is a welcome addition, the perfect fit as he wraps his arms around her, pulling her against his quickly swelling erection.
“It’s traditionally a couples time for conception, it's supposed to be good luck.” He drags his nose up the column of her throat, inhaling her scent. Her skin is salty, sweet like her perfume, he rests his chin against the soft curve of her breast.
“Then I suppose we should put that good luck to the test.”
Notes:
Thank you all so much for reading, and thank you all so much to those of you who commented such kind words for the last chapter. You're all dolls, and I'd give each one of you a smooch if I could.
A teaser for next chapter would be welcoming Blaise, Theo, and Pansy back after a little break and Draco gets some mixed signals from his darling wife. Hijinks ensue as always.
If you’re interested, you can find me over on Tumblr and Twitter
Chapter 3: Practice Makes Perfect
Summary:
“You’re upset with me.” He says (accuses really).
“I’m upset with you?” She asks, brow raising even higher.
“Yes.” He steps further into the bedroom, standing to proper height. “And might I say that it’s rather rude of you to be upset with me and not even bother to tell me what I’ve done. Yes, quite rude indeed because that has certainly never been an issue for you before.”
“I’m not upset with you.” She says, the corners of her lips twitching ever so slightly.
Because he’s a mature well-adjusted adult, he stomps across the room to her bed, causing her to sit up in surprise.
“Then why have you been ignoring me?”
___
With their honeymoon period over, Draco and Hermione return to society to make their appearances as husband and wife.
Except something is clearly bothering Granger, and Draco can't help but feel that his wife won't tell him what she's upset about. Not that he truly cares...obviously.
Notes:
Hello my dears, a bit of a longer chapter here, the plot seemed to get away from me.
Draco and Hermione make quite a few fun discoveries together in this chapter and I hope you enjoy it just as much as they do!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Draco shouldn’t have been surprised that she was so eager to learn.
She is Hermione Granger after all. There wasn’t anything she wanted to be second best at.
She wakes him up in the morning, pressing her clever lips to his neck and wriggling beneath his covers. Still much too early for his brain, but his body responds without issue.
This had become their routine. One he quite looked forward to.
She always comes to him first, pressing her body on top of his, skin warm and the silk of her nightgown cool. Her hand dipping low and gently stroking his erection, hard and aching for her.
He dreams of her now, it didn’t seem quite fair how she had invaded his brain.
His mind is foggy, slow in wake, thrusting unconsciously against her.
Granger is sweet against his lips, her curls cascading around him as her head tilts down, surrounding him in her scent. She presses herself against him, her cunt slick and warm, and he can’t help the groan that escapes his lips at the feel of her.
Draco rocks his hips, rutting against her as he regains function of his body.
Eyes finally opening, the sight of her steals breath from his lungs each time. Cheeks flushed and lips parted as she sighs. Fuck if it wasn’t the perfect way to wake up.
She’s not shy in her nudity, but she didn’t quite seem to understand the delight he takes in her body. Granger always comes to him dressed, but doesn’t stop him when he tugs the silk off of her, tossing it to the floor without care and devouring her.
His lips wrap around her nipple, suckling and nipping across sensitive flesh, fingers digging into her hips at the little noises she makes for him.
Arousal coats his cock as he continues to slide against her, not quite ready to slip inside.
He’s learned that she can get quite desperate if he makes her wait for it. He likes her desperate.
Draco flips them over, knees bracketing her hips to keep her from moving things further. Her bottom lip pushes out into a pout.
“Malfoy.” Granger warns, nails digging to his shoulders, trying to pull him down.
“You know what I want to hear.” He hums, grasping his cock and carefully dragging the head over her clit.
What a magically little spot. It was quite a sight to see to watch her brain go fuzzy, her thighs trembling around him as her lashes flutter.
She fought him every time, wiggling her hips to try and slip him inside. But he always won.
“Ah, ah—“ He tuts, pulling back and smiling at the whine that escaped her lips. “Nice try.”
Draco dips his head back down, teeth scraping over her nipple, suckling over the sensitive flesh. He groans, she was too fucking perfect, burying his face in the plump flesh of her breasts.
“Malfoy—“ Her tone is breathy, almost exactly where he wants it. He slides himself slowly over the slippery mess between her thighs, feeling the tempting pulse of her.
But he can be quite patient when he wants to be. And this result was always worth the patience.
Granger huffs in frustration, a hand winding in his hair to tug him upwards, brows furrowed and looking utterly adorable.
“Darling, you know what I want to hear. Just tell me and I’ll give you what you want.” He promises, tilting his head forward to kiss her, tapping the head of his cock over her clit and watching with a grin as her eyes roll back.
There it is, just exactly what he wanted.
“ Please,” She whimpers, melting so perfectly in his grasp. “Please—“
“So pretty when you remember your manners.” He gives in eagerly, slipping inside her, biting at the inside of his cheek at the snug sensation of her cunt swallowing him.
It was perfect, she was perfect, he could die like this—
She’s so wet, such an easy slide in and out of her. The walls of her cunt flutter around him as his hand slowly slides down her body, teasing before finally swirling around her clit.
Her legs wrap around him, heels digging into his lower back to pull him impossibly deeper.
“Give me what I want—“ He begs, watching her so carefully, gaze never leaving her as his fingers continue their assault, hips snapping against hers.
Her nose bumps against his, pupils blown wide and swallowing the deep mahogany of her irises. Sunlight peaks in through his curtains, casting her in a glow, her flesh pinking beneath his attention.
Her lips part, breath stuttering, body trembling as he coaxes her.
“There it is, just like that— such a good girl, give me what I want now.”
Granger is quite good at following instructions, cunt clamping around him, pulsing as her orgasm crashes over her.
Draco is incapable of resisting her, quickly following her over the edge, his vision fuzzing over as his pace stutters. He tucks her carefully into his side, watching as he pulls his cock from her, seed spilling over the plush expanse of her thigh.
She’d begun to indulge him more, letting him hold her hostage in the morning until it was officially time to get up.
He was fairly certain that she didn’t sleep, but she let him hold her snug against him until breakfast. Even better, he got to watch as she stood, his spend dried on her inner thigh, shining in the bright morning light.
It tugged at something in him he didn’t quite understand.
Yesterday had been the last day of their honeymoon, today technically being their first day back in public. They would need to make an appearance together in town.
“What is one expected to wear in their first public appearance as a wife?” She asks over breakfast, swooping her spoon into her porridge with an elegance he couldn’t quite understand.
Draco sips at his tea.
“Something cohesive, I’ll be wearing green.”
She rolls her eyes.
Later she emerges in a lovely, cream colored gown that compliments the rich gold of her skin. Light muslin fabric flows at her hips to help with the brutal humidity of late June.
“Is this your hint to me that your wardrobe needs more green?” He teases, extending his arm for her to take.
“I have two green dresses, and that will be plenty.” She assures, carefully adjusting the ribbon in her hair.
They pop off in apparition, her grip tight at his elbow when they land.
“I wrote to Ginny, she convinced Molly to let her run errands today so she can see me.” She says.
Draco turns towards her, adjusting his jacket, fully ready to tell her that he couldn’t care less about her little friend but the words get caught in his throat.
She’s beaming, wonderfully bright and glowing in the late morning sunlight. Rays reflect off the dark espresso of her curls, freckles smushing together adorably as she smiles, the bridge of her nose scrunching just so.
His summer bride, made of sunshine and blue skies, the breeze curling carefully around her as though even it knows to mind its manners just for her.
There’s a pretty pink flush blooming high across her cheeks from just the few minutes they’d been standing in the heat.
His pulse quickens, hands clammy in his gloves, tongue dry in his mouth. What the hell was wrong with him?
“Of course,” He says, “I’ll accompany you.”
Perhaps he’s sick? Or maybe it’s that he’s spent too much time alone with her.
He supposed there was worse company than Ginevra, it could have been Ronald. The interaction was brief as Mrs. Weasley had to get back home, but Granger was so delighted he couldn’t even bring himself to mock that they had to attend to their own house chores.
Yes, he was certainly sick.
“What’s the matter with you?” Granger asks, pulling him into the shade after Ginevra and Mrs. Weasley take their leave.
He flinches as her hand presses against his forehead.
“Nothing—“ He nearly swats her away.
She pulls away, looking quite suspicious, but leaves it alone.
Draco makes a hasty escape to Nott Manor after returning back to their own home, not even bothering to give Theo a warning to his arrival, leaving his wife behind in the dust from the floo. She had Mippy, it wasn’t like she couldn’t keep herself entertained, she could pop off to her precious Weasley hovel.
It occurs to him then that she could interact with Ronald, an idea that weighs heavy in his belly. She couldn’t possibly still fancy the bloke, right?
His train of weasel involved thoughts are thankfully quickly derailed by the appearance of one Theodore Nott.
“Well, look who’s still alive!” He announces cheerily, “I figured Granger would have taken care of you but it looks like I’ll have to finish the job myself.”
Draco huffs, dusting soot off from his robes as he stands from the hearth.
“Shall I call Blaise and Pansy for a proper reunion?” The other wizard disappears without even bothering for Draco’s opinion.
Oh well.
“Do tell us of your honeymoon, dear Draco.” Pansy implores as she pours herself a class of cabernet.
“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.” He mutters into his own glass of firewhiskey.
“Good thing you’re not a gentleman then.” Blaise quips.
Why did he even bother with this group? Was this really his only option for friendship?
“Oh yes, how is the new Lady Malfoy? I see you didn’t bother to bring her along.” Theo says, sitting himself in his armchair.
Draco scoffs.
“That’s perfectly fine by me, the less I have to see Granger, the better.” Pansy says from the sofa, ankles precariously crossed.
“It wasn’t terrible,” He mumbles, watching his ice clink around in the crystal glass. “We’ve managed to get along.”
The silence that his statement meets is heavy, his gaze flicking up to watch them all look at him with raised eyebrows.
“What?”
Pansy rolls her eyes while Blaise and Theo exchange a look.
“You’re getting along?” Theo asks suspiciously, while Blaise wears a smirk that does not bode well for Draco.
“Yes…why is that so surprising?”
Pansy traces the rim of her wine glass with her finger, looking quite uninterested.
“Because that means one of two things Draco dear, I suppose these two are trying to figure out which one it is.” She says, leaning back against the sofa.
“Oh, just Theo I believe.” Blaise chimes in, “I’ve already got it figured out.”
Theo scoffs indignantly.
“How dare you! You certainly do not have it figured out!”
“Oh yes I do, I think it’s quite obvious.”
“Very obvious,” Pansy mutters into her glass.
Annoyance prickles at him, wondering why on earth he had such a group of friends. He had no idea what sort of stories they were making up, what could they possibly mean that simply getting along with Granger meant two things?
He would figure it would be very simple.
“Are you all quite finished?” He asks, deciding he certainly needed more alcohol if he was going to be dealing with this.
“Don’t get fussy Draco, we can’t help that we know you best.” She sniffs.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says and Pansy tuts, exchanging a pitying look with Blaise.
“Poor boy.” Blaise mocks, standing to give Draco a pat on the shoulder. He swats him away, slouching further in his seat.
“Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out eventually.”
“I’ll just take my leave then—” Blaise pushes him back down into the chair as he tries to stand.
“Alright, alright, we’ll leave it alone.” Pansy smiles. “Terribly sorry for teasing you.”
Draco is very aware that she’s absolutely not sorry in the slightest, but he’ll accept it if it means he can move on. Theo takes the helm of conversation, deciding to instead discuss possible marriage options for himself and getting Pansy’s complete attention as she gives her full opinion on Henrietta Hargrove ( Certainly not a suitable marriage option, Theodore!), and Draco decides not to dwell on the overhanging cloud of thought that revolved around Hermione.
Instead, he settles into the chair with a fresh glass of firewhiskey, watching his friends argue about anything but his own relationships.
She’s a vision as she rides him, curls bouncing with each rise and fall of her body. It’s horribly warm, but she glimmers with perspiration, her eyes sparkling as she gazes down at him.
Her cheeks are ruddy, bright pink as she leans down to press her lips to his.
There’s a haze, a fog that floats over him, lost in the deep mahogany of her irises. Pleasure flutters low in his abdomen, fingers gripping desperately at her hips, digging into the soft swell of her flesh.
“Malfoy–” She coos, nose brushing ever so gently against his.
Perhaps she’s made of sunlight, the warmth of her glow overwhelming as his heart pounds in his chest. He wants her to say his name, to hear each letter drip from her pretty pink tongue, and wonders what it will take to make such a feat happen.
His mind is fuzzy, floating along the river, sinking deeper into the silk sheets. His climax pricks low in his belly, a warning as she nuzzles herself closer to him.
“Granger–” He warns, “What do you need? Let me—”
His hands are frozen at his side, blinking stupidly up at her as she tilts her head.
“What’s the matter?” She doesn’t stop her movement, pushing him farther and farther to the edge.
Panic bubbles beneath his flesh, she hadn’t finished yet—
“Please—” The words tumbles from him. “I want you to— please let me—”
Draco wakes in a panic.
He sits up, blankets flying out as he reaches around him for—for—
The spot beside him is empty.
He blinks, taking in the bright stream of sunlight bursting in from open curtains. It was eight o’clock already?
And he’s alone. His wife was nowhere to be found.
This does not ease his panic. He hadn’t gone a morning without her since the beginning of their honeymoon. She’d woken him yesterday, had something happened?
Draco dresses quickly, finding her already taking breakfast in the tea room.
And she…she looks just fine.
Her hair is pinned up like normal, dressed in a light blue that compliments well with her complexion. She reads the Prophet with half-interest, lips quirked as she stirs her tea.
“Good morning.” He greets neutrally, gaging to see how she reacts to his presence, thinking back to anything he could have possibly done in the past twenty-four hours that could have upset her.
“Good morning,” Granger responds, tone perfectly normal, looking up from the paper to give him a nod. “It feels as though all the Prophet wants to do is fill up their pages with anything but government restructuring. How are the citizens supposed to be properly informed on what they’re changing after the war?”
She scoffs, turning her attention back to the paper before sipping at her tea.
Draco wasn’t quite sure what her angle was. Surely if she was angry with him then she would let him have it, that had certainly never stopped her before.
Perhaps she wasn’t upset?
He sits in his normal seat across from her, thinking back to how she wasn’t aware of what a honeymoon was at all. Did she not want to have sex with him now that it was over? Did she think they would need to wait and see if she was pregnant?
His stomach drops at the thought.
Would she be able to know by now if she was pregnant? Draco knew that was the goal, but he wasn’t exactly mentally prepared for it immediately. Which is perhaps something he should have thought of before finishing inside her nearly every single morning for the past two weeks.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Hermione interrupts his train of thought. “You were acting funny yesterday and you just went pale.”
He simply stares at her, gaze dropping to her midsection, which was pointless because she was covered by her skirts anyway. Not like she would be showing at this point anyway.
His reaction must have confirmed her suspicions because she crosses the table to feel his forehead.
“Well, you’re not warm. Perhaps you should still stay in today, just in case you’re catching something.” Her hand is soft as it moves to his cheek, holding him in place as she inspects him for the suspected illness.
Warmth spreads through him so quickly he thinks he might be sick, pulse stuttering as she bends over slightly to get a better look at him.
“Well, I—” Words fail him, stuttering for a moment as she raises her brows, waiting for his response. “Perhaps I will go lay down.”
Granger approves, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder before returning to her side of the table.
“I’m going over to Harry’s today–” Draco opens his mouth to comment but she waves him off. “I’m bringing Mippy, no need to lecture.”
He nods, the rest of breakfast finished in silence as she passes him the quidditch scores from the Prophet, sipping quietly at their tea before she goes her own way, leaving him on his own in the dining room.
His thoughts of her grow louder as he tries to drown it out with quidditch articles. Perhaps she left him alone because she thought he was sick? Or maybe it had been a fluke.
Perhaps everything will be back to normal tomorrow?
His tea and scone sit heavy in his belly, pushing the rest of breakfast away.
He decides he does need to lie down, he must be sick. Because there was certainly no way he was upset about Hermione Granger.
Everything would be fine.
She had buried herself somewhere deep in his subconscious, living in his dreams each night they lay apart.
He hates it.
There’s an anger that wells within him, annoyance and resentment each morning he joins her for breakfast and she goes on like nothing has happened.
Perhaps it wasn’t fair.
When they originally agreed to marry, Draco figured he wouldn’t want anything to do with her. That despite her pretty looks, her know it all attitude and constant need to try and liberate his fucking house elves would keep him away.
Her sexuality had swayed him in some odd way. Perhaps he needed to take a mistress to remind him that there were other women to satisfy his thirst.
Right. Surely that’s what he could do.
Perhaps his genes were at fault, devotion to one’s wife seemed to run in the Malfoy family for as long as Draco can remember. He’s tempted to ask his father as they sit together working over the different estates, glimpsing at the odd muggle land that belonged to Granger that now bore his name.
His father closed the folder, meeting nearly adjourned when curiosity got the best of him.
“I’d like to ask you a question about the familial magic.” He says, gaining a curious side-eye from Lucius.
His father nods, settling back in his chair, gesturing for him to continue.
“Is there anything I’m not aware of?” He asks, taking the seat across from him.
“Such as?” Lucius drawls, making Draco regret asking in the first place.
“Is there anything besides ensuring that each line will have a singular male heir? Anything to do with connections in relationships?”
Lucius considers him, arms crossed as he analyzes Draco in a look he’s more than familiar with at this point. He braces for whatever response his father is going to give him.
“Is your marriage to Miss Granger not going as planned?”
That was an understatement by all measures.
“It’s well known that Malfoy men are typically very devoted to their wives, does that have to do with our familial magic?” He finally asks.
His father pauses, expression flickering for just a moment before finding its way back to impassive, lips twitching downward. Draco could feel the eye roll bubbling within him, ignoring the annoyance building at his father’s dramatics.
“Malfoy men are devoted to their wives through dedication and persistence, we are raised to be gentlemen and will always act as such.” His tone is sharp, but there’s a curiosity that lies beneath his gaze. “Whatever situation you have currently got yourself wrapped up in is your own doing and has nothing to do with any familial magic.”
“I made a decision that was best for this family and myself.” Draco quickly defends, very aware of his father's looming disapproval over his marriage decisions.
“Yes, so you’ve said.” Lucius’s eyes narrowed. “I won’t pretend to understand you, but you’re a man now, and you must face the consequences for your actions. Perhaps you should take time to reflect instead of placing blame on what does not control you.”
He stands, signaling his end to the conversation.
“Visit your mother before you leave, she’s concerned for you.” He says, turning to take his leave.
Draco’s mood sours immediately, not caring at all for whatever implications his father has just made. What consequences? Did his father think he despised Granger?
It felt as though nothing made sense anymore.
He feels as though his madness is going to break him on the sixth day.
She’s acknowledged nothing, going about their day as though nothing is abnormal. They continue to share meals together and then go about separate business.
Draco doesn’t miss her. That was a ridiculous thought for idiotic fools and actual love matches, which he was neither of. He would like to be shallow and blame it on her beauty, that perhaps if he had an ugly wife then the temptation to shag her constantly would abate.
He slips away to a parlor with Blaise and Theo that evening, eager to pull one of the girls into his lap and remind himself that other women in this world existed and he didn’t need to be hung up on Hermione fucking Granger.
He feels spiteful, something bitter coating his stomach as he knocks back a whiskey and smiles up at a petite blonde. She giggles, soft and sweet as she trails a finger over the collar of his shirt, refilling his glass and letting him pull her into his lap.
And—and—
Draco frowns, glancing over to his two friends as they flirt on with their own parlor girls. Something is missing, something acidic burning at his throat as he tries to push down whatever is driving him completely batty.
“Are you alright, my lord?” The blonde asks, hands tentative as they rest on his arm.
“Perfectly fine.” He says, “Just ensuring my two friends are behaving.”
He smiles at her, trying so desperately to admire her features and the feel of her body in his lap, but he pathetic brain is wandering and yanking at memories of a certain witch that sits back at home in the library and—
He drinks more instead of thinking about it.
He’s drunk and foolish. Just enough liquid courage to send him stomping to where her bedroom sits in the manor.
Not even bothering to knock before throwing the door open to reveal his very unamused wife, already in bed for the evening, curls loose and tumbling down her shoulders, the neckline of her nightgown dipping just low enough to peek at her cleavage.
Damn her— no, her feminine wiles could not distract him from his mission.
“Can I help you?” Granger sets her book on the bedside table, raising a brow as she looks at him.
“You’re upset with me.” He says (accuses really).
“I’m upset with you?” She asks, brow raising even higher.
“Yes.” He steps further into the bedroom, standing to proper height. “And might I say that it’s rather rude of you to be upset with me and not even bother to tell me what I’ve done. Yes, quite rude indeed because that has certainly never been an issue for you before.”
She simply stares at him, lips pursed, and eyes light.
“I’m not upset with you.” She says, the corners of her lips twitching ever so slightly.
Draco falters for just a moment, caught off guard by her denial before annoyance rears its head, because that could not be true. Not after the week they’d had.
Because he’s a mature well-adjusted adult, he stomps across the room to her bed, causing her to sit up in surprise.
“Then why have you been ignoring me?”
“Malfoy, what the hell are you talking about?” Granger flips to face him fully, blankets skewing around her. “I’m not upset with you and I certainly haven’t been ignoring you. We have all our meals together everyday!”
“But you–you—” There’s the smallest hint of embarrassment, something warm that flashes through him, perhaps a small amount of panic that she hadn’t even thought about the fact they hadn’t shared a bed in almost a week. “We haven’t…”
He trails off, suddenly rethinking this entire escapade.
“Oh!” She exclaims suddenly, eyes going wide, and to his utter surprise her cheeks go pink as well. “You mean—”
“Yes.” He interrupts, looking down quickly, suddenly very interested in each crack and crevice of the wood flooring.
“Malfoy, I assure you I have not been ignoring you and I’m certainly not upset with you. I very much enjoy our morning escapades.” He can practically hear her grin, the tips of his ears growing warm at the thought of her pink lips turning upward.
He says nothing, waiting for further elaboration only to be met by silence. Draco relents, looking up to find her smiling, but a blush still firmly set across her cheeks.
“You cannot leave me in such suspense, Granger.” He demands (certainly not begging) .
“You cannot be this stupid.” She mocks, huffing in annoyance when he was the one who was actually suffering.
Draco is certainly not stupid. He had top marks all throughout his schooling right below hers, she of all people should know that considering the constant fight that was Potions.
“I am not stupid.” He looks down at her with narrowed eyes. “You’re keeping secrets from your husband of all people—”
“Oh for god’s sake, Malfoy— I’m not keeping secrets, I was on my cycle.” She hisses, collapsing back onto the bed, covering her face with her hands. “It ended yesterday! I wasn’t keeping anything from you!”
Draco shuts his jaw so quickly he’s fairly certain he’d cracked a molar, a faint ringing starting in his ear.
Oh.
He had not considered that. Right. Of course.
Yes, women menstruated. He’d learned that.
Fuck, he was an idiot.
“Right—” He stutters, back to looking at the floor— it was so interesting after all, “Of course, I do wish you would have mentioned something but—”
“Mentioned something?” She screeches, making Draco very aware he’s said the wrong thing. “Why on earth would I mention something to you? That’s private!”
“Private?” He gapes, completely flabbergasted. “Says the woman who woke me up at six in the morning to show me a diagram of female genitalia!”
Granger gasps indignantly, snapping up from the bed so quickly he’s sure she’d get whiplash.
“That’s different! I wanted to show you—”
“Oh, show me indeed! You certainly showed me something!”
“So terribly sorry for teaching you how to pleasure a woman.” She spits out through clenched teeth, cheeks aflame, her hair nearly sentient as it floats around her.
She’s a vision in her fury, dark eyes full of heat as she glares, little crackles of magic emanating from the very core of her. It’s electric, tension sparking between their bodies. Merlin, he missed her.
He’s on her without a second thought, sending them crashing back into her bed. She’s perfect beneath him, lips meeting his without hesitation, teeth nipping at his bottom lip as her legs wrap around his waist. The skirts of her nightgown slide apart, exposing the plush expanse of her thighs that his fingers immediately find.
“I missed this—” He admits, not needing to include the details about missing her in particular.
“Yes–” She gasps in agreement as his lips descend to her throat, suckling at her pulse point. “I had to do everything myself—”
Now that gets his attention, pausing in his movement down to her breasts, looking up at her curiously.
“Do what yourself?” He asks.
“Don’t play stupid again, you just played stupid and it annoyed me greatly.” She warns, fingernails sharp against his shoulders.
The thought of her tucked beneath her sheets late at night, fingers playing between her thighs is dizzying. His cock aching for attention in his trousers, pressing himself against her inner thigh.
“Can I try?” He asks slowly, hoping to hide any hesitancy.
“You have.” She looks at him in confusion, sitting up on her elbows.
“Not like before, like the way you do it.”
She scoffs.
“Why? It would be a waste of your time.” Oh, but Draco would disagree, he doesn’t think it would be a waste of time at all.
He wanted to watch her unravel just for him and him alone. He wanted to be the only one to bring her pleasure in such a way.
His hand slips beneath her skirts, tugging upward, smiling as she complies in letting him throw the garment off of her.
Seeing her naked again nearly brings him to tears.
“I should have you painted.” He murmurs, trailing a finger slow and steady down her body, tracing over the curve of her breast and the soft plains of her belly. “Keep a portrait of you so I never have to go a day without seeing you like this.”
A blush paints her cheeks, parting her thighs for him as his hand trails lower.
“Pretty words.” She mutters as if he would lie about such a thing. Clearly, she needed convincing, not quite understanding just how much he wanted her.
“We’re married, yes?” Draco leans forward, closer to her, soft hints of lavender wafting over him.
Granger scoffs.
“Of course, almost a month now.” Her breath hitches as she watches his hand pause at her inner thigh.
“And you’re going to give me an heir, hmm?” His cock leaks at the thought, pressing his hips to the mattress in an attempt to relieve some of the tension.
A hum of agreement leaves her lips, eyes dark as she considers him.
“I think that a husband should know exactly how to please his wife, especially if it takes time to produce an heir.” He says.
He can tell she wants to argue, that she just doesn’t understand how important this was. But that was alright, he could show her.
Slow and tentative he dips between her thighs, swirling her in slow circles, watching with delight as her arousal smears across his fingers.
Granger sighs, fingers digging into the sheets as he works. He hadn’t touched her from this angle before, and not without his cock inside her.
She’s slick and silky under his touch, a dull pulse beneath his fingers, glistening and shiny— she gets wetter with each swirl.
It’s intoxicating, watching her unravel so prettily.
The scent of her is rich, tempting as his heart pounds, his cock aches impatiently.
He wants to get closer, to rub his cheek against the softness of her thighs and— and—
Draco pauses, a whine leaving Granger’s lips as his motions stall.
“I’d like to try something.” He says. “An experiment.”
He has her attention now, her gaze focused on him, her interest piqued. He could always count on her unyielding thirst for knowledge.
“You’ll have to tell me if you don’t like it.” He warns, gently pressing against her knee, watching as she carefully parts her thighs wider until there’s enough room for him to squeeze right between them.
Her thighs are soft against his ears, he can see the pretty sheen of arousal pooling between the puffy lips of her cunt. He wonders how it would feel to press his fingers inside, to feel her squeeze and pulse like she does to his cock. He wonders how she would feel against his tongue, wonders if she would like it.
Draco is aware he probably should have given her a warning, some sort of hint to his plans, but he just can’t help himself.
He’s a man starved, belly empty and full of need for something only she could fulfill.
He licks a broad stripe across her cunt, digging his fingers into her hips to keep her still as she bucks against him in surprise, a gasp ringing sharp from her lips, thighs snapping tight around his head.
It’s heaven.
She is spun sugar across his tongue, warm and sticky as he devours, exploring each part of her to see what she likes most. Draco looks upward to watch her, dark eyes wide and chest heaving as she stares at him in utter disbelief.
“Malfoy— you don’t have to—” Words leave her in puffy breaths, dying in her throat as his tongue gives attention to that special little bundle of nerves that she was delighted to teach him about.
“Oh, I want to.” He assures, pulling away from her for only a moment before testing out a new idea, wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking.
A shriek leaves Granger’s lips, her eyes rolling back in her head in a way that nearly makes Draco finish in his trousers. Quite a dangerous thing for her to do. Her legs tremble around him, her arousal smearing across his cheeks, dripping down his chin as he works her, utterly unrelenting.
He’s addicted now. She’d never made that sound before, never reacted to him in such a way. He could never go back, it wouldn’t be the same.
Granger’s hands find his hair, fingers digging into his scalp, tugging at him until he pulls back.
Her gaze could light him on fire, his erection nearly painful as she pants.
“You couldn’t possibly be enjoying this, it’s not fair that I—” She’s trying to argue with him, which simply won’t do, he needed her incoherent apparently.
Draco gently presses a finger inside her, then decides to slide in a second as he watches her lashes flutter. She’s searingly hot, his cock twitching at the memory of her fit perfectly snug around him, wetness dripping into the palm of his hand.
“Lay back for me, darling,” He murmurs, starting a slow push and pull. “You feel so perfect around my fingers, so messy for me— shall I show you exactly how much I like this after I’m done?”
His lips press to her inner thigh, delighting in the flutter of her cunt.
“Well, I just— you don’t have to—”
“I know, I know,” He soothes, “But you’re doing so well, aren’t you? Do you feel so good?”
Granger’s eyes glaze over, a whimper leaving her lips as his fingers crook inside her, his heart giddy at the new little spot he’s discovered.
“That’s right, you can trust me, you know that– don’t you? I’ve always made you feel good.” His thumb swipes across her clit, “Now you’re going to listen to me and let me make you come— oh I know , such a good girl, aren’t you?”
Her grip on him breaks, and he immediately tilts his head back between her thighs, tongue laving over her as he nuzzles himself deeper. She’s a vice around him, her clit pulsing as he suckles at her, wrapping an arm around her middle to hold her still as she trembles.
“Please—” She sobs, pitch peaky in that wonderful way that lets him know she’s perilously close to the edge, she just needed a little longer. Her thighs are nearly suffocating him and he couldn’t be happier, only slightly light headed as he breathes her in, his nose brushing against her thatch of curls.
It only takes a moment longer and she breaks, orgasm wracking through her little body as she twitches, her cunt clenching around his fingers as she spills into his palm, pulsing heavily beneath his tongue as he moans at the sensation.
His hips grind against the bed, dangerously close to his own orgasm as he forces himself to pull back, little spots dancing across his vision as pleasure flutters low in his belly. He’d heard the term cunt-drunk before, an insult hurled at men supposedly obsessed with the women in their lives, and now he thinks he understands the obsession.
Granger’s legs fall limply around him, shaky as she whimpers through her aftershocks.
Draco sits up, quickly tugging at the zipper of his trousers as he takes her in, flushed such a pretty pink as her curls reach new heights of volume. Her eyes are hazy, watching his fingers with rapt attention as he finally pulls his cock out, red and weeping for attention.
“So wonderful,” He praises, “Can I show you how much I liked that?”
He moves her carefully, hooking her knee over his shoulder in that wonderful way that lets him bottom out inside her, the searing heat of her cunt swallowing him whole. A groan tears from his throat at the feeling of her, so slick and needy for him, the walls of her cunt still fluttering and pulsing from her orgasm.
Draco starts at a slow pace, letting her adjust before quickening the snap of his hips, gaze darting between the bounce of her breasts and the way her eyes roll back in her head.
It occurs to him that his desperation to have her might be slightly concerning, that he’d apparently been unable to go less than a week without being buried inside her. He should most certainly ruminate on such a thought, perhaps do some self-reflection on why exactly he’d turned to practically throwing a temper tantrum, however— any coherent thoughts are quickly tossed out the window as a moan leaves Granger’s lips in that peaky pitch.
His eyes widened, heart stuttering for a moment. Could she come again?
He’d never thought about the possibility.
“Malfoy—” She gasps, hands flying behind her to grasp at the bedframe, squirming away from him. “I’ve never– I don’t—”
“Don’t you dare—” Draco warns, yanking her back down to him. “Follow it, darling— I’ve got you remember? What happened to my curious girl? Don’t you want to see what happens?”
A whine leaves her lips, trembling in his grasp as he pistons his hips right into the spot that makes her squeal. Her trust in him is a dangerous little thing, making something warm and gooey blossom in his chest, a little flutter in his belly that sends him into a high like no other.
“Please, it’s different than the first one, it’s quicker— it’s too much ,” Her voice wobbles, “I feel so sensitive—”
Draco thinks he might be on fire, to watch her so utterly undone, so affected by what he was doing to her.
“Sensitive?” He coos, “Oh dear, I wonder how this will feel then?”
He reaches his hand between their bodies, a featherlight touch to her clit that has her shrieking, she writhes in his arms, fingernails scratching down his back. She’s never been this wet for him before, his cock is utterly drenched as he fucks her.
“Malfoy— please, please , I can’t—” She begs.
“You can,” He assures, his pace never faltering, the sound of their skin smacking together echoing through her bedroom. “You can and you will.”
“Malfoy—” She tries again, but he simply won’t have it.
“Try that again, darling,” He leans his head down to nip sharply at her breast. “What’s my name?”
Granger looks at him in confusion, barely getting out a confirming statement when he increases his pressure on her clit, playing her in quick circles.
“Oh god, Draco—” She sobs his name, and it’s music to his ears.
“Fucking hell, good girl. Such a good girl.” He praises, certain that if she doesn’t finish in the next few seconds he’s going to be tipping over the edge before her. He simply can’t have that. “So fucking perfect, can you give me what I want, love? Please, love?”
Hermione breaks so beautifully, pulsing and clenching around him as she finishes for him again. His name leaves her lips in a wail, sending him spiraling into his own climax, his vision going white as he spills inside her, the walls of her cunt milking him until he’s empty.
He’d never felt anything like it before, he’d never came so hard in his life, a moan breaking from his lips as his head drops into the curve of her neck.
Draco gently untangles them, lowering her leg from his shoulder and tucking her into his side, simply laying skin to skin as they try to catch their breath. He stays inside her until he starts to soften, gently pulling out as she hisses, eyes immediately drawn to watching his seed spill white and creamy from the swollen lips of her cunt.
Through the sex-idled fog of his brain, he vaguely wonders how long it would take her to get pregnant. He pictures her swollen, skirts billowing off the bump of her belly, and heat flares through him, blinking rapidly to look back at her.
She’s beautiful in the low candlelight, curls wild as they flare across the pillow, skin flushed and dewy as she stares up at him. Her expression of wonder catches him off guard, his heart fluttering suspiciously in his chest at the glimmer in her eyes.
“I didn’t know it could happen twice.” She has that little smile on her face, that little grin of delight when she’s learned something new. “I suppose it makes sense that there’s no refractory period given the differences in our genitalia.”
Draco sighs, letting his head thump back against the headboard. He figured if anything, at least two orgasms would tire her brain out, but apparently not. He wonders how much it would take to leave her absolutely dazed and hazy.
“And what you did with your tongue— how did you think of that?” She asks excitedly, bouncing up to lean against his chest, her face so close to his as her eyes sparkle.
Their skin is sticky as they press together, heat radiating off of her, her smile open and toothy as if he’s given her the greatest gift. That fluttering is back, a horrid sensation of butterflies trying to escape his chest.
“I just— it just—” Embarrassment floods through him at the idea of sharing his thoughts to her, of having to utter the fact that his desire for her seemed to know no bounds.
You see Granger, it’s just that your cunt looked absolutely divine, and suddenly all I could think was how I wanted to devour you.
No, Draco would not be saying that.
“I was curious.” He decides instead, stiff as he turns his head away from her gaze. “Women have been performing fellatio since the dawn of time, I wondered if it worked both ways.”
He sees her deflate slightly in his periphery, turning towards her slightly to watch her blink rapidly.
“Oh?” Her lips pinch together, leaning back towards her pillow, his chest cold with her gone. “I didn’t— I didn’t know.”
The silence sits heavy, nothing but the sounds of crickets slowly chirping in from outside her windows. She pulls the sheets over her body, burying herself beneath them as she looks away from him and stares at the ceiling.
It occurs to him that he’d acted like an utter fool. Barely able to handle a week without fucking a wife that should have no hold over him whatsoever. It’s not his fault that she’d caught him off guard. She was just more thrilling in bed than he’d imagined, and he needed to move past it.
Just her face peeks out from the sheets, seemingly deep in thought, and when he realizes that he wants to ask just exactly what she’s thinking about— he quickly retracts. They’d been married for a month for Merlin’s sake and he was acting like an idiot.
Draco sits up, reaching for his discarded clothes from the floor, feeling her eyes on him.
“I apologize for barging in like I did.” He says, dressing quickly. “I’ll let you get back to your book.”
He leaves without looking at her, closing the door and standing still for just a moment to try and regain some of his bearings. His heart thuds painfully in his chest for reasons beyond his comprehension.
It was time for him to be done with whatever nonsense was currently existing between him and Granger. They’d married each other in a deal and for no other reason beyond that.
Draco pushes himself away from her bedroom door, walking down the hall to his room to sleep on his own.
Chapter 4: My Own Worst Enemy
Summary:
Their marriage had developed a routine more befitting of their relationship, more proper, intensity tipping into a schedule that he could manage.
They dined together for breakfast and dinner, schedules differing during the day as he kept up with society events and managing the estates while she prepared for the beginning of her mastery program in September.
There was…just a bit of tension between the two of them.
-
Draco and Hermione work through the new changes in their relationship. Surely everything will work itself out eventually, right?
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Summer passes quickly. Time stuttering away at an odd pace that has Draco feeling as though it all changes in a few blinks.
The end of August burns hot, the sun scorching everything in its premise, the poor flowers of the garden needing extra charms to keep from wilting. If he dares to spend longer than five minutes out in the sunlight he’s left bright pink and burnt.
Granger, on the other hand, seems to flourish in the heat. She spends early mornings out on the terrace, dressed in light muslin layers in varying light colors, dark curls pinned up and off her shoulders. Her skin a rich gold and flushed a lovely pink, dewy some days when she stays out too long as cool morning air climbs in early afternoon.
Their marriage had developed a routine more befitting of their relationship, more proper, intensity tipping into a schedule that he could manage.
They dined together for breakfast and dinner, schedules differing during the day as he kept up with society events and managing the estates while she prepared for the beginning of her mastery program in September.
There was…just a bit of tension between the two of them.
At the beginning of July Granger had finally received an acceptance letter to the University of Cambridge’s healing program and since she had yet to become pregnant, Draco kindly offered to stall their attempts at conception until she finished her first year.
“There will be plenty of time.” He had assured over dinner.
She’d been quiet, expression neutral as she stared over the table.
“Of course, how thoughtful.” Her tone had made him think she did not find him thoughtful at all, which he thought was odd.
They hadn’t spoken of it since. Nor had he touched her since. He couldn’t think of a proper reason to bed her besides the simple fact that he wanted to.
Yet, he dreamed of her still.
Draco dreamed of her above him, beneath him, beside him— he dreamed of her with flushed cheeks and hazy eyes while he brought her over the edge again and again. The sound of his name rolling off her tongue haunted him, breathy and perfect when he was alone with his hand wrapped around his cock.
He’s tried to think of anything else, anyone else. Nothing would do but her.
Things were too new, he would get over it eventually.
September cools, bringing lazy sunrise and the bloom of morning glories.
Granger very reluctantly agrees to a birthday party, refusing a ball but allowing for a small garden soirée.
“I despise being the center of attention.” She’d told him very seriously over breakfast, pointing a fork at him as if that was some sort of threat.
He’d simply rolled his eyes and looked over her guest list, appalled by the entire Weasley clan being involved but doing as she asked. Now, he stood in his garden with too many redheads and not enough Slytherin’s to compensate.
Pansy purses her lips, eyeing Granger from across the garden.
“She is quite pretty, isn’t she?” She remarks casually, causing Draco to choke on his biscuit, doubling over as he coughs.
Blaise gives him a few whacks on the back.
“So dramatic.”
“I agree, Pansy, she is quite pretty.” Theo grins, giving Draco a particular look that would result in a hex if he wasn’t currently surrounded by Gryffindors.
“Enough, all of you.”
“It’s a compliment, Draco dear, you should be grateful you don’t have an ugly wife.” She tuts.
Granger turns her head towards the commotion, a few loose curls framing her face as she raises a brow at him. She’s draped in lovely layers of lavender, the neckline dipping to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage.
Memories of what she looks like beneath her gown flash through his mind, his face heating rapidly as he stands and promptly turns around.
“This is hardly appropriate.” He mutters, excusing himself to the refreshment table.
He grabs a pastry, the table full of all of Granger’s favorite sweets, stuffing it into his mouth and immediately regretting it as Potter takes a spot beside him.
“I must say, I was worried you wouldn’t throw her a party, but I’m grateful you did.” He smiles while Draco scowls, chewing rapidly in an attempt to get a word in. “I know that Hermione despises parties, so it’s a good sign for you that you managed to push through all that.”
Draco swallows ruefully.
“It would have been improper not to.” He defends.
“Ah yes, propriety and all that.” Potter says, “You know, she speaks highly of you.”
If Potter’s plan was to completely throw Draco off, then he was succeeding, because his original retort dies in his throat, leaving him blinking like an idiot.
“She–she– what?”
“Oh yes, at least she was.” A head of red hair pops in behind Potter, Ginevra Wealsey’s freckled face grinning at him. “Now she barely speaks of you, which I find quite curious.”
If only the ground would swallow him whole. Draco raises his brow, hoping to display the expression of a gentleman unaffected, pushing his lips into a flat line.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” He sniffs.
“We just care about Hermione’s well-being, that is what friends are for.” Ginevra retorts.
“Oh goody–” Weasley stops short in front of where they stand. “Are we finally harassing the ferret?”
“Is it everyone’s plan to gang up against me?” He scrubs his hand over his face. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Only Ginevra raises an eyebrow in response, eyes gleaming in a way he did not appreciate at all, as though informing him that she knew all. And perhaps she did, he would suppose that Hermione did have a friendship with the girl that could bond further than with Potter and Weasley.
The thought unsettled him, picturing her and the redhead gabbing about all his faults over tea. He blinks, trying to clear his thoughts, swiveling his head in a desperate attempt to find Hermione and shoo her annoying friends away.
But she’s nowhere to be seen.
“Has anyone seen my wife?” He asks suddenly, watching all three drop their suspicious expressions to search for her.
“She was just talking to mum,” Ronald starts, brows furrowed in confusion.
They separate to find her, Draco wandering farther back in the gardens, trailing along the hedge maze.
He freezes at the sound of sniffling, little hiccuping breaths that make him carefully turn his head around the corner to spy her.
Hermione sits in the shade, knees tucked to her chest and the brim of her hat covering half her face, but not enough to hide wet cheeks and the tremble of her lower lip.
The feeling of helplessness overwhelms him quickly, almost embarrassed at the notion that he didn’t have the slightest idea of what could have upset her or how to soothe her.
She takes a few deep breaths, lifting her head to reveal watery eyes. She wipes carefully at her tear-stained cheeks, casting a quick glamor to remove the evidence.
“Quite enough,” She murmurs to herself. “Crying does you no good. You have people who care about you still, be grateful.”
Then, she pinches the corners of her mouth upward in a shallow attempt at a smile before dropping it.
“Oh bother.” She gives her head a shake before walking off.
Draco quickly takes off to beat her back to the gathering, thoughts flying rapidly to try and figure out what she possibly could be talking about.
Be grateful? People who care about her?
“Where did you go off to?” Blaise asks when he emerges.
“To find my wife, she’s on her way back.” He attempts nonchalance, readjusting his jacket, glancing over to watch Granger walk back from the garden.
Blaise says nothing, simply letting his gaze wander over to Granger.
She looked fine, not at all like she’d just been sobbing quietly in the bushes. She smiles at the Weasleys, letting the family matriarch pull her in for a hug that wasn’t quite appropriate for a society event.
Her eyes close for just a moment, arms wrapping around the older woman as her lips press together, expression pinched so quickly before it’s gone and that smile is back.
Draco frowns.
He catches the youngest Weasley’s gaze, watching as she carefully raises her chin upward, eyes darting from him to Hermione. Then she turns.
She knew something.
They have cake, the group gathering to sing to the birthday girl and watch as she turns pink at the attention.
Draco manages to catch Ginevra right before the Weasley family takes their leave.
“Wonderful party.” She says, arms crossed, her shawl draped over her shoulders.
“Indeed,” He responds, “Are we going to play pretend, or shall we speak plainly?”
A little grin forms.
“Perhaps you should speak plainly with your wife.”
Draco blanches, quickly recovering by standing to full height, pulling a haughty expression to cover the ice crawling through his chest.
“If you have something you’d like to share, Miss Weasley, then do tell.”
“Nothing you shouldn’t be able to infer on your own, one would think.” Her expression sours. “Try to remember what truly led to your nuptials in the first place and try checking in, I imagine it could get quite lonely in that manor.”
The accusation lands square in his chest, a retort bubbling immediately at the idea of her accusing him of ignoring Granger.
“Have a good evening, Malfoy.” She dismisses briskly, turning on her heel to join her family.
Draco finds her later in the evening, tucked into the sofa in front of the fireplace while reading a textbook, a quill poised in one hand as she makes little notes across the pages. He takes a seat across from her in the armchair.
“Did you have a good birthday?” He asks, watching as her eyes flicker up to him for just a moment before going back to her book.
“I did. Thank you for the party.” She says, continuing her work.
He should say something, summon up the courage to ask what had been upsetting her lately. They could talk about such things, they were adults, right? They were married for Merlin’s sake, they would eventually have a child together, he should be able to ask her such a simple question.
She glows soft in the firelight, flickers of flames kissing across her skin, shadows dancing on the walls around them and tucking them in. She had changed out of her party gown, instead in her house robe, hair loose around her shoulders.
His fingers twitch in his lap, quickly smothering the motion by clasping his hands together.
Thought after thought runs across his mind, wording tying together as he stares at her.
Why were you crying? Are you alright? Why won’t you speak to me anymore?
Granger finally looks up, her eyes dark and the corners of her mouth pinched slightly.
They stare at each other for a moment and her expression softens slightly, gaze tired and worn, shoulders slumping slightly.
This too would pass, certainly. They just needed time. Right?
In the end, words fail.
She sighs, closing her eyes for a moment, then turns back to her book.
“Goodnight.” She calls to him softly as he exits the room, turning back to look at her for a moment.
“Goodnight.”
Public appearances at galas and balls were such a nuisance.
Nothing more than a cattle graze of the wealthy, a prize showing of grandeur, and the flaunting of high-ranking engagements and expensive clothing.
Draco used to love it. A snobby teen proud to stand next to his father and watch on in all their pureblood superiority, that they all deserved such luxury, relishing in the idea that he was naturally so much better than everyone else.
Now it just leaves a sour taste in his mouth.
Yet they must make appearances as husband and wife. Granger stands placidly beside him, her elbow linked with his as they stare on at the couples dancing in the middle of the ballroom.
Blaise and Theo chat at the bar a few feet away while Pansy lets herself be dragged around by any bachelor she deems high enough on her personal social hierarchy. Although she currently looks rather bored by Cassius Warrington.
Granger sips at her wine, letting her eyes drag across the ballroom in her own clear boredom.
She wore the dress he’d gifted her for her birthday, layers of baby blue silk embroidered with gold trim along the sleeves and skirt, beaded with patterns of morning glories. A matching set of sapphires adorn her ears and neck.
She was radiant.
There’s a sick satisfaction in watching people he once desperately craved the approval of admire and eye the woman on his arm. He’d gotten their approval eventually, thankfully just not in the way he originally wanted.
Later, he would spin her around the dance floor and grin at all the bachelors wishing to be in his position.
Granger’s eyes widened, turning to face him with interest for the first time the entire evening.
“The Patil twins are here, would you mind if I went over to speak with Padma?”
“Of course, I’ll be over here.” He nods, unhooking his arm from hers and watching as she scurries off to where the twins chatter.
Granger smiles brightly, letting herself be swept into the arms of the other two women. He can’t quite help as he smiles as well.
Draco wanders over to the bar, getting himself a glass of whiskey before joining his friends.
Blaise raises a brow.
“And where did the lovely Lady Malfoy go off to?” He asks.
“She went off to discuss what I can only assume is academics with the Patil twins,” Draco says as he sips at his whiskey, rolling his eyes as his friend’s face brightens up.
“Oh , the Patil twins you say? Miss Padma is here?” His head turns, not taking long at all to find where they stand across the room.
“There she is,” Theo sings, “The future Lady Zabini!”
Blaise gives him a playful shove, knocking back the rest of his own drink before giving them both a nod and crossing the room.
“Do you think she’ll give him a chance?” Draco asks and Theo tilts his head in consideration.
They both watch as Blaise approaches, dipping into a bow and giving Padma a smile. Granger watches in obvious amusement while Padma looks rather dubious of the entire interaction. The group chats for a moment and Blaise finally makes his move.
Bless Padma, she leaves him hanging for a moment, staring suspiciously at his outstretched hand. The other two women exchange a look, a few blinks of unspoken words before Hermione leans forward, snapping her fan open to cover her face as she whispers in her ear.
Padma sighs, giving a little nod and finally accepting Blaise’s hand, letting him sweep her onto the dance floor.
“Atta boy!” Theo cheers, “A good bird, your wife is. Blaise certainly owes her one.”
“He’ll have to thank her in their wedding speech.” Draco says, “She’s even dressed in green, I think it’s a sign.”
“You’re right, maybe they’ll be engaged by the end of the night.”
They turn back to the bar, another glass of whiskey needed as they get roped into a discussion with a group of older men. Draco dreaded such discussions, dreary blabbering of politics and hardly hidden disgust in the changes of current society.
Old dogs never did learn new tricks.
They slide out by the skin of their teeth, edging themselves out of the circle as Theo shares a look of displeasure.
“Is that what our fathers used to sound like?”
“That’s what we used to sound like.” He says solemnly.
A frightening lesson of all they could have become, miserable old men with no hope left in the world. A ghost of old society as the world around them prospers.
Pansy finally departs from the dance floor, not even bothering to hide her annoyance as she stomps over to the two of them.
“Well, well, look who finally decides to grace us with her presence!” Theo welcomes cheekily, Pansy gives him a smack with her fan.
“Hush, I have a question for the both of you.” She snaps, right to business. Draco supposes he shouldn’t be surprised.
“Go on then.”
“I’ve danced all evening with gentlemen who graduated with us from our house, and frankly my perspectives are dull.” Her eyes narrow, “Not to mention just horrid, how can men so handsome be so terrible?”
“I think many men feel similarly to you, Pans.” Theo tuts.
Draco holds in his laughter as she gives him another smack, this one much harder.
“If you say another nasty thing about me I’m going to throw your drink right at you and make a scene.” She threatens, deathly serious as she does so, and Theo shuts his mouth with a click. “ Just as I thought. As I was saying, as I was bored beyond belief by Lord Warrington, I realized I might have to venture outside our house.”
“I encourage it,” Draco says, sipping at his whiskey. “Take a page from Blaise’s book, he’s out dancing with one of the Patil twins.”
Pansy hums in consideration, turning to watch the two dance.
“Anthony Goldstein is a Ravenclaw, yes?” She asks, already setting her sights on the man where he stands near the bar.
“He is indeed,” Draco answers.
“And his father is a lord, they have property in France too.” She purses her lips for a moment, then begins to smooth out her skirts, hands moving to her hair to fix any loose strands. “If you’ll excuse me gentlemen.”
He’ll give her one thing, she certainly knew exactly how to seduce a gentleman.
“And off she goes.” He mutters.
“Is it a match though?” Theo questions.
“She hardly cares about a true match. When it comes to Pansy, she has her own set of rules and regulations.”
Theo rolls his eyes, gaze seeming to catch on something in the process, brows furrowing.
His playful expression drops for a moment, enough to make Draco curious.
“Do tell what juicy gossip you’ve just discovered.” He says.
Theo hesitates for a moment.
“It appears your wife has an admirer.” He responds, looking back at Draco with an unsure expression.
That makes him turn right away, the words seeming to make his body react before his brain fully processes.
A man— some unimportant, surely low-standing gentleman based on the fact that Draco had no fucking clue who he was— stood right next to Hermione. Much too close in Draco’s opinion, it was hardly appropriate, much too personal as he tilted his chin down to look at her, body turned just so for her attention.
She chats on easily as if she was familiar with him, an odd heat bubbles low in him, acidic as it crawls up his throat and leaves a sour taste in his mouth, because she— she was smiling at him.
Who the hell even is he?
Draco takes his leave without even bothering to tell Theo, not quite listening as he hears his friend's voice mutter something.
He moves with purpose, that odd bubbling only climbing higher as Granger spots him, her expression uninterested, and turning back to the man.
“There you are, lady wife.” His jaw clicks as he forces a mild expression. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Her lips purse for only a moment before putting on a polite smile.
“Of course. Alexander, may I introduce my husband, Lord Malfoy.” Her hand gestures between them. “This is Sir Alexander Sterling.”
“Pleasure to meet you.” The man says, lips pulling into a grin, extending a hand. “I have the honor of working with Hermione at Cambridge.”
Hermione?
What corner of the world had this cretin crawled out of to not know how extremely inappropriate to address a lady without her title? And a man’s wife nonetheless.
His wife especially.
Draco’s grip tightens, a warning, as far of a threat as he can go currently without causing a scene. Sterling’s grin only widens.
“An honor indeed. She’s quite brilliant, my wife.” He refuses to be the first to relent, hands still locked in the grip.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself, I really am fortunate to have her as a research partner.” Sterling comments.
“Oh please,” Granger interrupts with a well-meaning eye-roll. “He’s quite modest, and based on most of those in the class I’d say I’m the fortunate one.”
Her nose crinkles as she smiles at him, freckles smushing, as they share a look. An inside joke.
It was highly inappropriate, not at all befitting of a married woman. Did she not know? Was such etiquette not common among muggles?
“Quite right.” He manages to grit through his teeth, hands itching for movement as he clasps them behind his back. “Join me for a dance?”
Except he doesn’t quite give her an option, sweeping her away and leaving Sterling standing on his own.
“Goodness—“ She hisses, fingers digging into his coat as she tries to steady herself. “Stop acting like a brute, what’s wrong with you?”
There’s a snap, a boil over as his eyes narrow at her.
“What’s wrong with me?” His voice is dangerously low, watching her expression change immediately at his tone. “Who the hell is that, and why is he addressing you in such a way?”
Surprise flashes across her face, brows furrowed in confusion.
“He’s my research partner, we see each other nearly every day. It’s hardly inappropriate, you certainly don’t have an issue with Harry or Ron.”
“Don’t even try to compare the situation, why didn’t you tell me you had a male research partner?” His grip is tight at her waist, fingers digging into the bodice of her dress.
There’s an ache deep within him at the memory of holding her so intimately, how long had it been since he touched her in such a way?
They whirl around the ballroom, her skirts fluttering around them as he spins her. Her curls whip around her head, sticking to the pink flush of her cheeks, her lips pulling back in indignation.
“All of my classmates are male—“ He’d struck a nerve, her pitch going high as her feet fell in line with his, eyes full of fire as she glared. “And you didn’t know because you never asked, you couldn’t be bothered speaking to me about anything. Don’t you dare take that tone with me.”
There’s a crescendo, a climb of violins and cellos, his heart making a rhythm in his chest as it beats. His blood pounds, the world around them a blend of colors as their pace increases, never losing tempo. “Don’t you accuse me — you’re the
one that stopped speaking to me—“
A sharp laugh wretches from her throat, catching him off guard.
“Is that how you see it?” She asks. “Poor little Malfoy being ignored by his wife for no reason at all? Some things never change.”
She practically spits her words, chest rising and falling rapidly, body pressed tightly against his as they move together in sync.
There’s a ghost of a memory, tangled together in bedsheets as he holds her impossibly close— a roll of her hips, thighs wrapped around—
The music stops, a freeze in movement as they hold the ending pose, practically nose to nose as they try to catch their breath.
“We’re leaving.” Draco manages to breathe out, taking a gentle step back, the sound of the crown bleeding back into his ears.
She doesn’t argue, anger melting into a plain mask he’s become all too familiar with at this point.
It’s not until they’re spit out the other side of the floo that she speaks to him again.
“My classes are only male, all of my future partners will be male.” The heat of her anger has softened, and she looks so weary, so tired. “You have no idea what it’s been like for me to even make a friend.”
“There are plenty of women pursuing higher education—“ he tries to argue but she cuts him off with a wave of her hand.
“No, not in the research field. They don’t even bother letting women in, I managed in by the skin of my teeth. They only recently started letting muggleborns attend, and I’m fairly certain they only allowed it because I saved the wizarding world.”
She turns away from him suddenly, shoulders shaking.
“No one takes me seriously, women in the healing field are shoved into labor and delivery. And my classmates have no issue reminding me of such, I’m lucky to have found a friend in Alexander, he at least respects me.”
If he were a good husband he would recognize the quiver in her voice, in the way her body trembles, and know she was at her limit.
But he’s so angry, weeks of frustration over her silence choking him at her accusation as she hadn’t been the one to ignore him.
It had been her to stop speaking to him.
“He doesn’t respect you, he only wants one thing from you, and if you can’t see that then you’re a bigger fool than I thought.” He seethes.
“Get out.” Her voice is so quiet he barely registers it.
“I’m only telling you the truth—“
“Get out!” Hermione whirls around, cheeks stained with tears, choking on a sob as magic crackles around her in her fury.
Draco stumbles back, all previous temperament melting instantly at the sight of her in such a state.
Fuck, he hadn’t meant to make her cry. Couldn’t she see that he was just trying to show her what was really going on?
Guilt simmers low in his belly. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know what she was facing in her classes. She should have told him, he could have spoken to the professors, straightened everyone out, and reminded them of how they should address Hermione Granger-Malfoy of all people.
“Granger—“
“I said get out!” The room seems to shake as he’s thrown down to the floor, smoke curling from her fingers as her hair breaks from its careful updo, frizzing around her head.
Draco grits his teeth, pushing himself up from the floor as his heart pounds.
They hold each other's stare, waiting for the other to back down.
Venom threatens to spill from his tongue, old words from their schooling days bubbling in his throat. A reminder of who he is beneath it all.
What was it he had thought about old dogs not being able to learn? Perhaps he was no different, biting at his tongue until it bleeds to hold in dangerous words.
He leaves before he can make it worse, the door slamming shut behind him, swallowing down the taste of copper.
He slides down to the floor, burying his face in his hands as he listens to the quiet sobs on the other side door.
Notes:
Forgive me?
This chapter was brought to you by listening to My Own Worst Enemy by Lit over and over again to really get into Draco's headspace.
Listen, in my defense...these two have never excelled in the whole 'communicating properly with each other' area. Heavy on the idiots in the idiots to lovers. Anywho...feel free to screech at me in the comments.
Many apologies for the month-long wait for an update my loves, who knew that being an adult could be so time-consuming? Huge thank you to everyone who commented on the previous chapters and left little notes for me on other social media platforms, it helped shoot some much needed inspiration into me. Who would have known I was capable to writing something serious and with no smut? Don't worry pookies, there will absolutely be smut in the next chapter.
I love you all so dearly, and I'm so incredibly grateful for each and every one of you. Thank you for always encouraging me on this journey of writing silly little stories 💕
If you’re interested, you can find me over on Tumblr and Twitter
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