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A whirl of colours twisted and morphed, slowly shifting into focus. Hermione clung onto Draco’s arm, trying to steady her wavering feet. Whether it was from the apparition or the heady intoxication that lingered from him pinning her to the wall and thrusting his thigh into her cunt, she wasn’t certain.
A dull ache still throbbed between her legs, her stomach fluttering with a desire to push him into the lush, manicured lawn and mount him right there. His warm, rough palm covered hers, guiding her toward a stately, white-washed brick residence. Magic tickled the back of her neck as the wards rippled upon their approach, making room for Draco.
“That’s what you call a flat?” Hermione shrieked, her eyes sparkling in the setting sun. “That’s a miniature manor, Malfoy.”
“I never said it was a flat,” he drawled, palming the small of her back and steering her towards the front door. “And don’t be ridiculous, Granger. Malfoy Manor has two wings and no less than thirty bedrooms and fifteen bathrooms. My current home only has ten bedrooms and eight bathrooms; much too small to even be considered an estate, let alone a manor.”
Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes, a quip dying on her tongue. Two large hands slid along the small of her back, pulling her against a chiselled chest. The exasperation etched on the line of her brow faltered, her fingers flexing into the rigid muscles hidden beneath his jumper.
He wasn’t playing fair – not that she should have expected a Slytherin to.
“If you want to argue the logistics of real estate, anything over five bedrooms in the modern era is last enough to be considered an estate, you posh prat,” she huffed, still clutching the soft fabric of his jumper.
A soft breeze rustled through the trees, carrying with it the faint scent of espresso and cedar. The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. One of his hands moved lower, cupping her arse and squeezing. She moaned, biting her lip and hiding her face in his chest as a shiver shook her shoulders.
A quiet, fleeting chuckle hummed next to her ear. Draco feathered a barely-there kiss on her jaw; his whispered words made her stomach swoop.
“Salazar, you’re cock-twitchingly infuriating, witch.”
“Malf–,”
His lips crashed to hers, cutting her off. He backed her into the door, the wood digging in between her shoulder blades. His hands bracketed her hips while hers found purchase in the silken strands of his hair. Still brimming with indignation, she refused to relent to his tongue brushing along the seam of her lips, nipping back. He breathed a dark laugh, and a rush of heat churned in her belly.
“Fuck it,” he murmured along her swollen lips.
His arms tightened around her waist before they vanished in a wisp of magic, reappearing in a room accented with dark woods and plush bedding – smelling intensely of him.
Fingers curled tightly around her hips, walking her into a wall, his lips still fused to hers. She craved to taste him, to drink from him like an expensive wine. Her tongue licked across his lips. He refused to relent as much as she did, a soft growl humming in her chest.
Another low laugh purred past his lips as his hands left her hips. Before she could lament the loss, his hips pinned her in place and his hands burrowed into her curls, fisting them in a firm, almost bruising grip. She panted, automatically tilting her head back to expose her throat, her lips parting just enough to give him access.
“Is the lioness showing me her belly?” Draco asked, his teeth grazing her fluttering pulse.
“Fuck off, you insufferable prat,” she breathed with no real venom in her tone.
He broke away from their kiss, his hot breath feathering over her swollen lips. With one hand still buried in her curls, the other trailed over her lip, tugging it gently. The soft grey in his eyes shifted to molten silver, as smooth as pure mercury.
“Is that what you want? All you have to do is say the word, and I’ll back off.” He cupped her cunt, his hand moving across the soaked fabric, making her moan. “However, I don’t think that’s what you wish for, is it?”
Slowly, his thumb brushed across her clothed clit, sending a wave of desire skittering along her spine. Her knees buckled and her back arched against the wall.
“No,” she whimpered, hating how needy it sounded.
Giving her curls a yank, his mouth found hers once more. His tongue licked along the seam of her lips, slipping into her mouth as she moaned. His hand never strayed from her cunt, massaging in time with each swipe of his tongue against hers. He tasted like firewhiskey and chocolate – addictive and decadent. Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into the muscles flexing under his jumper.
A flame started to build in her abdomen, coiling tighter and tighter until she might snap. Frantically, her fingers closed around the hem of his jumper, trying to yank it off his head, increasingly frustrated about the amount of clothing between them.
“Impatient, darling?” he asked, ending their kiss with a nip on her jaw.
“Yes,” she said, finally removing the woollen top and tossing it aside. Her eyes widened, taking him in up close for the first time. She could feel the way he smiled at her while her fingers traced the artwork that covered his torso, disappearing below the hem of his trousers. “You’re stunning,” she murmured, meaning the tattoos as much as him.
“And you’re beautiful, Granger,” he purred, tugging off her jumper with little ceremony.
His gaze raked over her, lingering on the swell of her breasts cupped in the black lace bra that Pansy insisted she wore. A lump bobbed in his throat, dark flecks twinkling in his eyes like constellations splayed across a midnight sky. His thumbs dipped into the hem of her leggings, pulling them off to reveal the matching knickers to her bra.
On his knees in front of her, he growled, lathing wet kisses across her torso, his hands caressing the backs of her thighs in featherlight touches. She shivered, dancing from foot to foot. His mouth trailed lower, so close to where she wanted it. Her head fell back, curls spilling down her back. His nose nudged her clit, and she whimpered, bucking into his face.
“Gods. You smell divine, like all the sweets I was never allowed to have growing up.”
Her fingers slid into his hair, the white-blonde strands so soft. Her nails scratched along his scalp, trying to move his face where she wanted it.
“Take what you want, Malfoy,” she hummed, licking her lips.
Draco snarled, the sound low and deep in his chest as he picked her up and effortlessly tossed her into the mountain of blankets and pillows on his bed. She giggled a breathy sound, her curls fanned around her like a halo. He knelt on the edge of the mattress, crawling towards her with all the grace and lethality of a panther cornering its prey.
She clenched her legs, trying to ease the ache. No other man had ever made her so wet. Her knickers were ruined. His palms closed around her thighs, coaxing them open as he settled between them.
“Call me Draco, darling. It’s the proper thing to do, if you want me to make you come.”
Another rush of arousal went straight to her knickers as she wiggled, finding his hold on her unrelenting. She swallowed past the thick lump in her throat, nodding. Her chest heaved with each heavy breath that left her lips. She propped herself up on her forearms, her gaze landing on the bulge in his trousers before finding his eyes once more.
“Only if you call me Hermione.”
“As you wish,” he purred, slowly slipping her knickers down her legs.
The lace felt too coarse against her skin, itching until it was removed entirely. Cool air hit her cunt, and she stifled a moan. His thumb and forefinger rubbed the visible wet spot, a slow smile growing on his lips. Blush flushed her chest and cheeks, heating under the ravenous look he levelled at her.
“I wish,” she said breathlessly as Draco dropped the black lace to the floor.
He nodded, lying flat on the bed, his mouth hovering over her entrance. His hands curled around her waist, nearly covering the entire span of her ribs. The dark ink that kissed his wrists stood out against her coffee-coloured skin, and she loved the way they looked together. He trailed wet kisses along her thighs, torturing her with the slow ascent. She squirmed, legs twitching as he inched higher, getting precariously close to where she needed him.
“Don’t close your legs,” Draco growled, anchoring her to the bed with his grip. Her face pinched at the rough command, refusing to give into him too easily. She shifted again, trying to close her thighs, when his hands forced them open, his fingers leaving marks on her skin. “Who would have thought that Hermione Granger would be unable to follow directions,” he said, his voice low and hoarse.
“I can follow them just fine when they suit me,” she needled, desperate to see how far she could push him. Her eyes narrowed on him – a defiant glare that made his cock twitch.
He shook his head, hair falling artfully over his brow like it was purposeful. He rested his chin on her navel, her cunt fluttering desperately. His gaze met hers beneath hooded lids, his black pupils threatening to engulf the silver.
“Well, you know what suits me, Hermione?”
He purred her name, more like a threat than a prayer, and something trembled in her chest at the implication. He extended his hand, wordlessly summoning his broom from where it was perched in the corner of his room. She would have been impressed by the magic if the thundering pulse in her ears hadn’t drowned everything else out. He caught the glittering wood in his outstretched hand, his seeker reflexes at work.
“You taking everything I give you until you’re begging me to stop.”
Her stomach swooped. He murmured a spell she didn't recognise and leather cuffs sprouted at each end of the broom handle. His rough fingers wrapped around her ankle and yanked. She squeaked, her body now pinned under his dark, unrelenting stare.
All at once, the defiance from earlier melted away, leaving her panting beneath him. His thumb stroked the back of her calf, making gooseflesh erupt across her skin.
“Any issues with being restrained?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble.
Truthfully, she rather enjoyed it…with the right partner. She hadn’t done it in a long time, not trusting the men she met at the clubs enough to engage in it. But she knew Draco - trusted him - and fuck it all if she didn’t want to give that control to him.
“No,” she answered, licking her lips.
With a knowing smile, he secured the leather cuff to one ankle and then the other, leaving her spread open for him with nowhere to hide. She wiggled, testing the restraints, quickly realising there was no way out of them. They forced her legs as wide as they could go, just on the edge of too much. Her wetness glistened on her cunt. She could feel it dripping down to the bed. Draco shucked off his trousers and briefs before sitting back on his haunches, admiring her like a piece of art in a museum.
His cock sprang free, slapping across his stomach. He was longer and thicker than anyone she had been with. Her eyes widened, heat rolling in her gut. Pre-cum leaked from the swollen head as he fisted himself, stroking lazily.
The tattoos stood out against his alabaster skin, another one spanning his leg that she hadn’t seen earlier. A black serpent slithered along his thick thigh, the head looking like it was biting his hip.
“Which snake are you eyeing, darling?” he purred, dragging his tongue along the points of his teeth. She tried to speak, but nothing came out, her gaze piercing the thick length clasped in his calloused palm. “Don’t worry; it will fit, just have to get you warmed up first.”
Before she could respond, he gripped the broom, flipping it and manoeuvring her onto her stomach. She yelped, surprised by the motion. Her fingers slipped into the bedding when his hands bracketed her hips, forcing her to all fours.
“Malfoy,” she hissed, looking over her shoulder at the smug prat.
“Draco, darling,” he corrected.
Before she could say another word, the flat of his tongue licked a long, languid swipe through her entrance. A drawn-out whimper fell from her lips, all coherent thought vanishing from her head, immediately forgetting what she had been about to say. Draco moaned, his hands palming her arse as he devoured her. Her chest fell to the bed, no longer able to hold herself up.
He swirled his tongue around her opening, alternating between licking and dipping into her core. She fluttered around him, desperate for something more to clench around.
“More. Draco. Please,” she begged in a staccato, pressing her cheek into the duvet.
“Oh, darling. How can I deny you when you beg so prettily?”
One thick finger slid into her cunt. She should have been embarrassed by how easily he added a second, the sound from between her thighs wet and lewd. She fluttered around him, a tightness growing in her belly as heat licked up her spine. He continued to lick in time with his strokes inside her, nudging that spot that made her vision blur.
“Oh, Gods,” she whispered, arching her back when the broom prevented her from clenching her thighs. “Please. Please. Please,” she chanted almost incoherently.
“Say my name and I’ll let you come,” he growled, slowing his pace.
“Draco!” she screamed.
“Good girl,” he purred.
Everything inside her boiled over, his fingers stretching her deliciously with each stroke. He licked around her opening, his hand pressing between her shoulder blades as she started to buck. Her thighs trembled as she tried to wiggle away from the pressure building at her apex but was unable to.
“That’s it, darling,” he cooed, his tone laced with heat. “Come all over my fingers.”
Her vision darkened as she shattered, her cunt squeezing him until he could no longer move inside her. Waves of heat clawed up her spine, her entire body aflame with the sensation. She whimpered a soft sound when Draco removed his fingers, the evidence of her orgasm sticky on her thighs. Her lips parted in a soft o as Draco slipped his slicked-covered fingers into his mouth, growling a low, possessive sound while he sucked them clean. He removed them with a pop, grabbing the broom and flipping her onto her back while she still tried to catch her breath.
Calloused fingers brushed along the hinge of her jaw before he brushed a swath of sweat-soaked curls off her face. She panted, trying to swallow down more air. Her release glistened on his chin, and another unfamiliar sound trilled in the back of her throat at the sight.
Draco smirked, dragging his thumb across his chin, wiping up the remnants of her arousal before tossing his broom and her spread legs over his back and across his shoulders.
“Another one, darling,” he said, licking over her still-sensitive clit.
“I can’t…not that fast,” she muttered.
“Oh, I think you can ,” he purred, trailing his fingers through her opening. “Those boys you’ve been with just didn’t know how to make you sing, and if you’re to take my cock, darling, you’ll need to come at least once more.”
His mouth closed around her clit, sucking and licking. Her back bowed as her fingers clung to his hair, holding him there. He groaned at the contact, licking with more fervour. Without any preamble, he sunk two thick fingers into her soaking centre, curling them upward. An array of colours swam in her vision as she squeezed her eyes shut, a familiar heat already blossoming in her abdomen.
Draco set a steady pace, tapping that spot over and over again, her chest tightening with each stroke.
Her nails dug into his scalp, making him hiss, but he didn’t relent. He sucked her clit steadily, circling the swollen bud with his tongue in time with each thrust of his fingers. Blush crawled up from her chest to her cheeks, and Draco’s steely gaze met hers from between her legs.
“I can feel it,” he said, his voice muffled. “Give it to me, darling. Let me watch you fall apart for me.”
Another orgasm crashed over her, more powerful than the last. The force of it shook her tiny frame, splayed open for Draco’s pleasure; she couldn’t wiggle away from it. Draco worked her through the aftershocks that followed, each pump of his fingers slower than the last until he stopped completely, kissing her clit as he pulled away.
With a silent flick of his wrist, he vanished the broom, sitting back on his haunches and pumping his cock – the head swollen and ruddy with want. Her knees fell to the mattress, and she sighed a quiet sound, sucking her bottom lip at the sight of him. Her nipples pebbled against the thin fabric of her bra, the sensation almost painful.
She forced herself onto her knees, splaying her palm across his chest and pushing him onto his back. He huffed a small laugh, falling into the blankets. She grinned at him, knowing he could have stopped her if he wanted, but that he was as weak for her as she was for him. He arched a pale brow in challenge. Hermione straddled his thighs, running her hands over the lithe muscles that framed his torso. Later, she would ask him what every tattoo meant, for the story behind each one, but now all she wanted was to feel how perfectly his cock would stretch her.
Draco sat up, claiming her lips in a delicate yet demanding kiss as his nimble fingers undid the clasp of her bra. The lace fell away, pooling on the bed. Breaking away from their kiss, his gaze roamed lower, his pupils blowing wide when he landed on her breasts.
Inwardly, Hermione reminded herself to thank Ginny for convincing her to replace the jewellery before tonight. She had found the snitch barbells at a magical tattoo shop at Horizont Alley, buying them for Hermione on the spot. Based on the dazed expression on Draco’s face, Ginny had been right about their effect on a certain Seeker.
“Hermione,” he hummed, her name definitely sounding like a prayer this time. His thumbs trailed the underside of her breasts, the touch sending a shiver down her spine. “Bloody fuck. How long have you had these?”
The piercings had been an impulsive decision when out in muggle London one night with Pansy and Ginny. At first, she had been worried she might regret it, but nothing had ever made her feel so powerful and pretty. She enjoyed the way they made her look and even more how they felt when a partner showed them the proper attention. She had never climaxed from someone just playing with her nipples, but she wondered if this man would be the one to do it.
“Two years. However, the barbells are new.”
A feral growl rumbled in the back of Draco’s throat as he palmed her breast, gently thumbing the gold wings. Delicious buzzing sensations zinged along her spine, making her head fall back and her eyes glaze over. Her cunt clenched, and she ground against his cock, making him grunt and twitch under her.
“Did you wear these for me?” he asked, unable to hide the possessive glint that danced in his eyes.
“Yes,” she admitted, nibbling on her lip.
“You’ve fucking ruined me, witch,” he groaned.
His tongue flicked her nipple before his mouth closed around the bud, his tongue nudging the jewellery side to side, making her whimper with the warm, tingling feeling that spread through her chest. He smiled along her breast, his hand massaging the other one, giving them equal attention.
Her hips rocked, coating the hard length of him in her arousal.
“Potter’s not the only one that can say he’s caught a snitch in his mouth now,” Draco murmured, circling the dusky bud before sucking it back into his mouth.
She hummed a breathless laugh, grasping the hair at his nape and pulling his head back. A smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth; his lips parted as he stared at her.
“You really want to talk about Harry right now?” she asked, stilling her movements, only slightly exasperated with him through the haze of heat that clouded her thoughts.
“I’d rather find out what your silky cunt feels like wrapped around my cock,” he admitted with a growl. He ran the backs of his fingers along her curves before gripping her hips. He flicked her nipple a final time, smirking at the shudder that shook her frame. “Now, ride me, darling. I know you are going to look stunning impaled on my cock with those breasts of yours bouncing beautifully.”
“You’re bossy,” she huffed.
He grinned, twirling a curl around his finger and tugging slightly. She gasped at the slight twinge, another rush of her arousal slicking his cock.
“I’m a spoilt, only child, darling, and based on that pretty flush of yours, I think you rather like it when I’m bossy.”
Rather than give him the satisfaction of answering, she reached between them, curling her fingers around his length and positioning the tip at her entrance. He was too thick to palm him entirely, and her body heated in anticipation of how perfect he would feel. Slowly, she sank down, a breath catching in her throat at the stretch of just his head.
“That’s my good girl,” he praised, and she whimpered.
His hands rubbed along her arms, allowing her to go at her own pace. Sweat beaded off her brow, her gaze locking with his darkened one. She rocked her hips, taking more of him a little at a time until he was fully seated deep in her cunt.
“Merlin,” she hummed, her breath coming in stuttered pants.
The slight burn of him stretching her to accommodate his girth faded quickly, twisting into a roaring flame that threatened to swallow her. His cock twitched and she shuddered, the tip nudging that spot behind her clit.
“This fucking cunt,” he hissed, a muscle in his jaw jumping as his nails dug into her hips. “You are bloody perfect, Hermione. You feel like how I imagine ambrosia tastes – honeyed and everlasting. I want to claim you, fill you full of my essence until you're round with my heir. Will you let me, darling? Will you let me mark you with my seed so that no one ever doubts who you belong to?”
Hermione shuddered as the questions fell from his lips like a broken plea. She nodded, her throat closing with emotion and desire, knowing that her implant would never let him impregnate her until she was ready, but Merlin, if it wasn’t the most erotic thing anyone had ever said to her.
“Then take it, witch,” he moaned, his head falling back into the blankets, bucking his hips gently into hers to encourage her.
Hermione dug her nails into his chest, supporting the brunt of her weight as she raised her hips until just the tip remained inside before thrusting back down until their bodies were flush.
“Godric.” “Salazar,” they moaned simultaneously.
Circling her hips, she ground her clit along his pubic bone. Desire bloomed on her cheeks, her features twisted in pleasure as she kept her gaze locked on Draco’s. She increased her pace, bouncing on his cock faster, moaning with each thrust.
“So pretty. My pretty, pretty girl,” he purred, keeping one hand anchored on her hip while the other skated up to palm her breast, his thumb toying with the gold snitch pierced through her nipple. She whimpered, tossing her head back while her cunt squeezed him. “So close. Come for me; let me feel you shatter around my cock.”
She pumped her hips one more time, her climax tearing through her as sweat slick down her neck and her release coated her thighs and Draco’s cock. She twitched, shuddering as her body faltered. Draco growled, curling an arm around her back and pulling her flushed body on top of his chest. He bucked his hips, pumping hard into her. She huffed heavy breaths, her body still quivering from the remnants of her climax.
“So. Fucking. Good,” Draco snarled in her ear, nipping at the lobe as he pushed her curls to one side, nuzzling into her throat. “You feel so good. Going to spend an eternity buried in this cunt. Keep you so full of me until you’re filled with my heir. Everyone will know that you’re mine. All mine.”
“Yours, Draco,” she breathed.
His pace faltered, his thrusts turning erratic as his cock twitched inside of her. His nails scratched along her back as he scrambled for purchase. Hermione rolled her head, exposing her throat to him. He kissed and nipped at the tender flesh, sucking marks into the skin as he came with a roar, thick ropes of hot cum spilling deep inside until he stilled, his softening cock still twitching in her pussy.
He burrowed into her curls, inhaling before kissing the underside of her jaw and rolling them until they were both on their sides facing each other. He slid his half-hard cock from inside her, a combination of their release spilling down her thighs. She huffed an indignant sound at the loss, nuzzling her face into his chest. Two fingers dusted under her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his.
“There is only one place this belongs, Hermione,” he growled, gathering his cum with his fingers and pushing it back into her fluttering core.
She whimpered, rolling her lip between her teeth. He feathered wet, open-mouthed kisses over her jaw and collarbone, slotting his lips to hers in a sweet, reverent kiss that made a different kind of warmth glow in her chest. Slowly, he removed his fingers, pulling her to his chest underneath the blankets. He ran his fingers through her curls, brushing them off her face before pressing his lips to her forehead, keeping them there for a long pause.
“In the morning, darling, I plan to wake you up with a slow, lazy fuck. One that will show you how precious you are.”
“Promise?” she asked, her eyelids drooping.
“Promise,” he echoed. “Sweet dreams, Hermione,” he whispered into her skin.
“Night, Draco,” she answered.
She curled into his chest, his arm wrapping around her like they had done this so many times before. Her fingers traced the black swirls that wrapped around his shoulder until she fell asleep, lulled by the fleeting touches of Draco’s fingers ghosting along the column of her spine.
A loud, shrieking sound permeated her dreams, forcing her awake with a start. She sat up, the blankets pooling around her waist, as she dazedly looked for her wand. Draco woke, springing upright and automatically splaying an arm across her chest, trying to shield her body with his.
“What the fuck?” he said, his voice thick and husky with sleep.
Across the room stood a familiar head of chestnut curls along with a messy swatch of jet-black hair. She shrieked, scurrying to collect the sheets around her waist, pulling them up to hide her breasts from her best friend and his boyfriend.
“Wait. Are those?” Theo turned wide-eyed toward his boyfriend. “Salazar’s rod, Granger’s got her tits pierced. Did you know about that, Harry?” Before he could respond, Theo continued. “What do you think, love? Maybe I should get one for my cock. Bet you would love the way it would feel inside of you,” Theo said, waggling his brows.
“Theo,” Harry hissed, his cheeks flaming with heat as he averted his gaze away from Hermione.
“What are you two miscreants doing here?” Draco hissed, running a hand through his hair.
“Sorry, ‘Mione,” Harry said, glaring at his boyfriend. “Theodore asked me to come with him to check on Draco because he wasn’t responding, and he was worried something was the matter.”
“Responding to what?” Draco hissed.
Theo shrugged his shoulders, looking like the gnome that got the galleon.
“I demand to be the godfather when you two start popping out little sprogs. As a thank you for facilitating this,” Theo said, gesturing between the pair of them.
“Yes. Yes. Now get out, you bloody menace,” Draco hissed, tossing a pillow at the smirking brunette.
Theo ducked the throw pillow at the last minute, smirking devilishly before threading his fingers with Harry’s.
“Come on, love. Let’s take a trip to that shop in Horizont Alley that does tattoos and piercings.”
Harry groaned, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses before shooting Hermione a pleading look.
“Sorry, Harry,” she laughed. “I don’t think I can’t help you.”
“Too right,” Theo beamed. “No one can save you. Cheers, you two,” he added, steering his boyfriend from the room.
The floo roared in the distance, and Hermione relaxed, dropping the sheet she had been using like a shield, allowing the luxurious fabric to pool around her hips. She eyed Draco’s hardening cock, hidden beneath the blankets.
“Where’s that lazy, early morning fuck I was promised?” she asked, allowing her eyes to rake over him hungrily.
“Insatiable witch,” he purred, rolling her under him and pinning her to the bed with his hips.
“You love it,” she smirked.
“Gods, help me, I do.”
One Year Later
Draco stood there, sweat glistening across his brow, his quidditch leathers snug across his chest. He rested his broom on his shoulder, leaning against the door when he caught her lingering gaze. She licked her lips, enjoying the sight of her boyfriend.
Most nights, he came home from practice already showered and in fresh clothes. With the impending World Cup trials, he had been working later, determined to be selected by the British National Team.
His hair was windswept, and his cheeks were still pink from the cold evening air. Hermione smiled, closing the distance between them. She threaded her fingers behind his neck, urging him in for a kiss. Draco welcomed it, his lip brushing against hers, growling when she pulled away too quickly.
“Tease,” he groaned, adjusting his trousers.
His gaze raked over her breasts, pausing at the Falmouth logo embroidered there. He spun her around, growling as his fingers traced the Malfoy name splayed along the back. She purred, knowing what it did to him - seeing her in his jersey. She turned around, reaching up on her tiptoes and kissing the corner of his mouth.
“After dinner,” she cooed.
“Fine,” he relented, working his quidditch robes off his shoulders.
Hermione summoned her half-drunk glass of wine, leaning into the marble island as she unabashedly watched her boyfriend strip out of his quidditch kit. Her lips paused at the rim, the crimson liquid sloshing around while Draco undid his bracers, revealing his toned forearms.
“Like what you see, darling?” he chuckled.
“You know I do.”
Crookshanks ambled out of his bed by the fire, weaving between Draco’s feet in greeting.
“You’re up to something,” Draco said, narrowing his eyes at the half-kneazle.
“He’s happy to see you,” she said, shaking her head. “He’s not plotting your demise.”
In a flash, Crookshanks swiped at Draco’s tight trousers, swiping something from the pocket that had Draco chasing him through the townhouse.
“You bloody nuisance. Give that back,” he hissed.
The cat darted around the home, prancing over to the island with a tiny, ruby velvet box in its mouth. Hermione’s eyes widened, her lips parting as she slowly put her glass down on the counter. Blood thundered in her ears, and her heart fluttered in her chest like a nest of pixies. Her hand flew to her mouth, his gaze snapping from the box to Draco’s.
“Draco is that…? Are you? Tonight?”
The anger in his eyes faltered, instead giving way to something softer. His eyes sparkled with emotion, his shoulders dropping with an exhale.
“That menace ruins everything. First, my snitch, and now the engagement ring. That beast is half niffler, and you can’t convince me otherwise. This wasn’t how I planned the proposal going,” Draco sighed, palming his forehead and pushing the sweaty strands off his brow.
“Yes,” she said, her smile crinkling the creases around her eyes.
“Yes?” Draco repeated, something uncertain crossing his features. “You can’t say yes. I haven’t done it properly.”
“Too late,” Hermione hummed, wiggling her ring finger. “I should like it now.”
“I swear to Salazar, witch,” he groaned, his gaze landing on Crookshanks. “You hear that beastie? Your Mistress said yes. Now, kindly give me the ring back so I can put it on her finger.”
Crookshanks hissed, swishing his tail with an irritated flick before spitting the brocade velvet box on the floor. Draco summoned the box, cleaning it with a Scourgify. He opened the lush material, and Hermione sucked in a breath. Nestled inside the silk sat a brilliant gold band, twinkling branches flanking a glittering sapphire surrounded by diamonds.
“Draco,” she whispered. “It’s beautiful.”
“When our friends inevitably asked how I proposed, tell them it was something romantic, please,” Draco pleaded, hovering the ring over her finger. “If Theo finds out about this, I will never hear the end of it.”
“I won’t,” she laughed.
Draco slid the ring onto her finger, smiling as it resized to fit her, the protection charms glowing a dull blue before fading. She held her hand up, admiring how the sapphire caught the light. It was stunningly simple and everything she ever wanted. She beamed up at him and Draco cradled her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking the freckles on her cheeks.
“I love you, Hermione. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“I love you too, Draco. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Theo inevitably found out about Draco’s botched proposal during Hermione’s hen night. As predicted, he never really let it go.
And thus began the Christmas Eve tradition of Theo retelling the tale once everyone was properly pissed: The one of World Cup Champion Seeker, Draco Malfoy, who was bested by a geriatric half-kneazle.
