Chapter Text
Hermione vibrates with giddiness. She can't recall a time she's ever been so purely and absolutely enthralled—no, enraptured—by life. She sits, unable to stop fidgeting. Her stomach flutters and her heart pounds enthusiastically against her ribcage. She smooths her eggplant-purple robes for perhaps the dozenth time. He should be back by now. Hermione knows Draco is perfectly capable of handling himself, but the silence gnaws at her regardless.
Harry and Blaise had cursed her and chased her, making absurd accusations that Ronald of all people was living at Malfoy Manor. She can’t understand it. Everyone knows Ronald Weasley has been dead for months. When Ginny had arrived at Harry's side, she parroted the same horrid claims. Hermione had been shocked to see Neville and Luna join them not long after. What on earth?
Everything will be fine, Draco is dealing with it. It might take a few weeks for everyone to calm down. Give it two months, and they'd all have a laugh about the whole misunderstanding over pints.
Try as she might to convince herself, Hermione's body still quivers with an anxiety she can't place. She glares at the grandfather clock too many times to count. Time seems to move like molasses. Draco sauntered out of the Library an excruciating twelve minutes ago. The front door slammed four minutes ago. She didn't know if that meant Draco had dealt with the situation or simply taken things outside.
Hermione cranes her neck to look at the grandfather clock again, scowling at the minute hand that has yet to budge. Where the bloody hell is Draco? She wrings her hands and is about to find out for herself when something rockets into the large space.
The silvery-blue form isn't enormous by any stretch. It's perhaps the size of a small dog. The strange Patronus whips through the air, angling its body artfully on invisible winds. The curious thing soars on sinuous, bat-like wings to Hermione. With surprising accuracy, it halts midair just above her knees.
It is fascinating to behold. Hermione realizes its wings are those of a dragon carrying aloft a gorgeous lioness, regal and rippling with muscle. Beside her magnificent head is a second: the stoic face of a goat with long, gnarled horns that sweep towards its back. Both pairs of the chimaera's eyes rest on Hermione with a look of pride, its many tails swishing contentedly.
"Aren't you gorgeous," she gasps quietly. "Who do you belong to?"
The chimaera opens its mouths in unison and speaks. The voice that floats to Hermione is smooth and smokey, and sends a shiver trickling down her spine.
"Our guests have left. Come to our suite." Draco's voice is all but a purr. When his words finish, the chimaera flaps its wings once more before dissolving into nothingness.
Excitement pools low in her abdomen at his command, and Hermione is on her feet before she knows it. Dark purple robes swirl as she sprints out of the Library. She doesn't know what possesses her. The two of them have lived together for months, but it feels like she hasn't seen Draco once during that whole time.
Her work shoes clack on the smooth marble as Hermione tears down the hall and up the impressive staircase. She's lived at the manor long enough that it no longer feels absurd and imposing. It’s certainly excessive, but she hardly notices. Especially with Draco waiting.
Hermione is facing their door in no time. She grabs the intricate dragon handle around its middle and pushes, the heavy door swinging open with virtually no force. The lamps are set low, casting pools of warm light. Rich greens and plush textures give the room an impression of a secret garden at dusk. All hurry leaves her.
Draco sits on the edge of their bed looking as relaxed and confident as ever. His white-blonde hair makes him stand out like a beacon in the dim room. He wears his typical dark button-up and trousers: a stark contrast to his porcelain complexion. Light from the fireplace flickers across him, painting Draco’s striking features with dramatic brushstrokes. As his eyes lift to hers, the corners of Draco's mouth quirk into a mischievous smile. His gray irises twinkle, mimicking the silver ring glittering on his little finger.
"Come here, beautiful,” he says with a voice like velvet. He crooks a finger at her and smirks.
Hermione's legs carry her obediently to him. He reaches up a hand and strokes her cheek. She practically melts into the sensation, cherishing the warmth of his hand on her skin. Her eyes want to flutter shut, but she won't let herself miss a second of him.
“I forgot how stunning you are," Draco drawls, and his buttery smooth voice is already unraveling her.
"Th-thank you, Draco," she says automatically, causing Draco's smile to widen like the Cheshire Cat’s.
"Hmmm," he hums in faux contemplation. "You must have been desperate for me to come back to you.” Draco leans close, each syllable dragging deliciously across her ear. “What have you been fantasizing about all this time?”
Hermione's brow momentarily furrows. Fifteen minutes apart was hardly enough for her to get worked up, but perhaps this was Draco’s ego talking. Who was she to stomp on his fun? She had thought of him. That very morning, Hermione had accidentally ignored her boss three times in a meeting because she was too preoccupied wetting her knickers with thoughts of him. There had been a particularly intimate position that simply would not leave her mind.
Hermione licks her lips, loving how the small motion draws his full attention. When she opens her mouth to answer, Draco moves the pad of his thumb to her mouth to shush her. The way he drags it across her lower lip makes her practically woozy with want.
“Actually, I’ve changed my mind. Why don’t you show me.”
Draco pulls his thumb from her mouth and kisses her once sweetly on the cheek before leaning back on his hands. He blinks up at her expectantly through thick, blonde lashes.
Hermione takes a step back. The space makes her feel powerful, as if she's on display just for him. She reaches for the hidden zipper of her robes, tugging its slender tab down her side in one slow, fluid motion. The fabric loosens across her chest, its neckline teasing lower.
When she shimmies her shoulders out of the purple fabric and liberates her breasts, a low grown escapes Draco's mouth. Hermione doesn't stop there. When the fabric pools around her waist, she hooks her thumbs into the thick material and slips it over her hips, taking her knickers with.
Draco is transfixed, and Hermione watches as his pupils blow wider and wider. His eyes drag all across her body, lingering on her hips, her stomach, her thighs, her breasts… all his favourite places to kiss and bite. In turn, she stares at him with a mesmerized heat. Hermione never once looks away, loving the attention he gives her. She sees every little reaction flit across his face, every little hitch in his breath.
Triumphant, Hermione steps carefully out of her clothes. Tilting her body slightly away, she bends at the waist and reaches to unbuckle her shoes. His hot gaze tracks every movement as she presses her thighs together and pokes her bum out.
Without a word, Hermione steps to him, standing beside one of his knees. Draco smiles up at her. He probably expects her to straddle him, but Hermione has been thinking of this all day. With a jerk of her chin, she gestures for him to stand. He does so as she crawls onto the dark sheets herself. Draco watches with his mouth slightly agape as Hermione lies on her back, wriggling so her head just hangs off the foot of the bed.
"What—"
Impatient, Hermione rolls her eyes. She lets her mouth pop open and the pink of her tongue show. The gesture ought to be obvious enough. After seeing a few illustrations in "The Intimate Male," she's been dying to try this angle. For the life of her, Hermione can't recall why they haven’t tried already.
Draco doesn't hesitate. He reaches hastily for his belt buckle. In seconds, his trousers and boxers are down around his ankles. His cock is already standing hard at attention, clenched in his hand as he sidles close. Her forehead can feel the fine hair that stipples his thighs.
She's transfixed on the silky smooth erection bobbing in front of her. When Draco reaches forward to palm both her breasts, she startles. He strokes his way around her nipples, plucking at them gently. Draco's hands trace up the nape of her neck. His thumbs settle against the hinge of her jaw as he cradles her head in his palms.
"I can't tell you how much I've thought of this," Draco murmurs down at her.
Hermione adores how he handles her, always so careful when he's in control. Things had been slightly strained lately in the bedroom, and she is determined to obliterate that dam. There's a particular magic in unraveling someone with just your mouth, and Hermione thinks it's been far too long since she did just that. She begins to salivate with anticipation.
Draco tilts her head just so, and the tip of his cock brushes her lips. Hermione presses her tongue against it as it slips into her mouth. When she starts to gag, her hands fly to the back of his thighs. He stills, slipping out just enough to let her catch her breath. His fingers dig into her curls, massaging her scalp and making her melt.
"Are you being a good girl and breathing for me?" He asks, his voice like molten silver.
Hermione can do that. She syncs her efforts with his thrusts, finding it tricks her gag reflex long enough for Draco to slide even further down her throat. In, out, in, out. Just when a tickle thinks about forming, he's already pulling himself swiftly back out. Tears of effort trickle over her temples and into her hair, but she couldn't be happier. This is precisely where she wants to be.
“You've never taken me this deep before," he grunts from somewhere above her.
Just as she thinks it's too much, just as she's about to squeeze his legs in warning, she feels one of his hands let go of her hair. It wanders down her body, distracting her as she breathes heavily around his girth.
"Look at you, taking so much of me… Such a good girl deserves a reward."
Without warning, his fingers press between Hermione's folds. She has no idea how wet she’s getting, but the way he skates and slips around her entrance is mesmerizing. He groans above her, tracing circles across her dripping cunt.
Draco pinches her clit between two fingers momentarily, causing her eyes and mouth to open wide of their own accord. He takes the opportunity and pushes deeper down her throat. He rubs tight circles over her clit before easing a finger in her cunt. Hermione's lungs catch, stuck in a silent gasp as the single digit plunges inside her.
"Breathe for me, love. Breathe," Draco insists. "This is far too good to cut short."
Hermione funnels all her attention to her breathing. It's a much more challenging task now, the distractions of his cock and fingers warring in her addled mind. Draco pumps his entire length into her mouth and down her throat over and over, her saliva gathering in long, wet strings that slide up her cheeks. He adds a second finger, crooking them and teasing her inner walls with his fingertips.
"That's it, love. Just like that."
Suddenly, something sharp as ice shocks her very core. Hermione jolts and moans all at once, the chilling sensation piercing her clit and coursing through her body in glacial surges. It's unlike anything she's ever felt. The pressure undulates against her sensitivity, deliciously teasing her. Held thoroughly captive by Draco's flawless ministrations, she can no longer hear herself. Hermione’s moans have evolved into something else entirely: gasping feral sounds escape her between Draco's quick thrusts.
"You like how my ring feels, don't you? You certainly seem to… quite a lot, judging by how utterly ruined you are for me."
Her obvious arousal spurs Draco on, his thrusts growing deeper and faster as he fucks her mouth. The hand at the back of her neck curls deeper into her hair, clutching it for support and control. He slams into her faster and faster, clenching her curls tight as his fingers plunge in and out of her. Hermione's ears are filled with Draco's strangled breathing and the lewd sound of his fingers diving in and out of her sopping cunt.
"So good… So fucking good," Draco groans loudly above her. His unabashed praise feels like warm sunshine and Hermione's skin tingles. His signet ring pushes hard against her sensitive bud. Her groan vibrates around his length as he plunges so far down her throat that his balls graze her nose. Draco seems unable to hold himself together any longer. His thrusts devolve, quick and erratic, as Hermione vibrates and squirms her hips beneath him. His fingers move quickly in and out, dragging and thrumming against her slick walls.
All at once, hot ropes of salty cum stream from Draco's cock. The sensation is entirely too much for Hermione. Instantly, every muscle in her body seizes with pure pleasure. As he empties himself into her mouth, her vision goes white and her world unspools.
Hermione's orgasm rockets through her. Torrents of electricity jolt through her entire body. Her thighs quiver and spasm, closing around his hand in a silent plea for stillness. She hears him panting wildly as his fingers slowly slip out of her. Without thinking, she swallows and begins to lick every inch of him clean as he slowly softens. Draco's erratic breathing hitches, and she feels his intent gaze riveted on her. The hand clutching the nape of her neck relaxes and begins tracing soothing circles into her scalp. It feels like absolute heaven. Hermione takes in a steadying breath and attempts to reclaim her haphazard breathing.
"I've been dreaming of fucking your sweet little mouth again," Draco said as he pulls her gently up the bed. He begins to delicately dab rivulets of saliva from her face with a conjured towel. "You have no idea how much I dreamt of this."
Draco kisses each of her eyes, tasting her tears before swishing his left hand elegantly through the air. The entire mess instantly evaporates. Even the sheets are plush and dry beneath Hermione's heated skin.
"How do you think I cast my Patronus?" He chuckles somewhere above her. "'Muster up your happiest memory; the happier, the better' and all that? You, my dear, are entirely responsible."
Hermione's eyes snap open.
"My perfect girl, taking all of me so well," Draco purrs as he carefully checks her over. The pads of his fingers skate delicately along her flushed skin. "What wouldn't you do for me, I wonder?"
Hermione can’t pull together a sentence to save her life. Instead, she hums in appreciation, cherishing his praise and caresses. She's missed him fiercely. She can't put her finger on why exactly—after all, they share a bed and see one another every day—but some long-buried shard rejoins her heart, clicking into the space that had been empty for far too long.
Draco slides on top of the sheets beside her. She catches his hand as it dances down one of her arms and squeezes, funneling all of her love and devotion into the small gesture. The squeeze she receives in return says everything. He cradles her face with one hand and dots kisses across her cheek and into her hair.
"Happy birthday, Hermione."