Astoria Greengrass fiddled with the satin ribbon of her lace robe, an heirloom worn by all the women in her family on their wedding nights. How surreal, she thought, that this morning she awoke Greengrass, and by noon, she was Malfoy.

The pretty brunette fingered the lace negligee again, smoothing over the fabric with careful hands. One other heirloom rested on the second finger of her left hand, the Malfoy family ring. Her wedding band was an intricate design, lovely and old like everything Astoria cherished. Her slippers (plain white flats with inlaid crystals), though quite new, were borrowed from her sister Daphne, who had married just three years before Astoria. Beneath the robe she wore a cropped corset and underwear of cream satin and mesh. And on her skin, a scented oil her mother-in-law gifted her. Apparently, it was one of Draco's favorite scents.

Astoria had hoped this would aid her in gaining her husband's attention tonight, a man she had hardly spoken to prior to their engagement and nuptials. He seemed to loathe the idea of an arranged marriage to her, though she couldn't fault him for it. Their futures seemed out of their control and so final. It was quite terrifying knowing that no matter what, she may have to stay with her husband through what could prove to be an unhappy marriage.

But Astoria was a positive person, pragmatic of course, yet ever the optimist. Surely there was a way she could get Draco to express himself, to open up to her. And surely, with time, he would fall in love with her. Many boys their age did. Why shouldn't he be like one of them? Why shouldn't he desire her too? She was very attractive after all. Narcissa herself said she was even prettier than imagined, prettier than her elder sister even.

Her new relation was so happy to have a daughter, and Astoria was happy being doted on by a woman as graceful and refined as Narcissa. Astoria thought, quite cunningly, of how very glad she was to have Narcissa's ear. She knew it would come in handy in winning her husband's heart. If there was one thing she already loved about Draco, it was his respect for tradition. A daughter-in-law that gets along with her husband's mother is a sure sign for a long marriage. Narcissa was her ally, and she would not give the woman any reason to dislike her. She would dote on her new mother like a good little wife, and eventually Draco would love her, and she would bear him a son.

Astoria looked into a reflection on the vanity mirror once more before pinching her cheeks and biting down on her lips for an all over flushed look.

"You are clever," she told herself. "You are beautiful."

Quickly, she rummaged through the drawers, pulling out a small vial given to her by Narcissa, a potion to make her first time less painful and more pleasurable. She downed the whiskey colored liquid in one swig, feeling her anxiousness subsiding and her confidence take over. She then withdrew another vial, a contraceptive. Technically—that is, by contract—Astoria was obliged in producing an heir as soon as possible, but she wanted more time with her husband before their lives got hectic with a child. She wanted him to love her before they conceived. Surely that wasn't asking much, and whatever Draco didn't know wouldn't hurt him. With that, she turned away from the mirror, kicked off her slippers, and entered the room where her husband was waiting.

"Astoria," the man spoke when he became aware of her presence. He folded the paper he was reading and set it on the nightstand, his shoes and socks off, the first two buttons of his dress shirt unbuttoned. Astoria noticed he was reading the article on their wedding. She caught a glimpse of her mother and Narcissa standing on either side of her, smiling beautifully into the camera. "You look lovely."

"Only lovely?" she teased, making her way around the bed so that she was standing before him.

"What would you have me say, Astoria? You already know you're beautiful."

"You think I'm beautiful?" she probed, pretending to be flattered.

Draco did not respond. He would be the last man to inflate his wife's overly large ego. Beauty was important to him, that much he couldn't deny, but he most certainly wasn't the one for female hysterics. He simply would not give in to Astoria's games.

"This robe," the girl motioned, pulling at the ribbon holding the front together so that it hung loosely, her undergarments exposed. "It's been in my family for nearly six generations. Isn't it pretty?"

"It's quite nice," he answered, his fierce gaze connecting with her own, his hand reaching out to caress the lace and the warm body beneath it. She belonged to him now after all.

"I agree. Perhaps I should place it somewhere safe. It's an antique." She allowed the fabric to fall from her shoulders, pleased that Draco was participating. He caught the robe before it reached the floor.

"I'll take care of that," he offered, rising and stepping around her, an entire foot taller than his wife.

When he returned to her, she lay in the bed as stiff, as delicate, and as lovely as a doll. He sat on the bed, turning towards her, and they were silent for a moment, simply staring at each other. Astoria moved first, drawing nearer to her husband and placing a hand on his thigh, another against his torso. She marveled at the strength and solidity she was sure she'd find beneath the shirt.

Draco pulled her onto his lap, his hands cradling her bum and thighs. "Kiss me," he commanded.

Astoria's hands crept up the sides of his arms and neck until she was holding his face in them. She searched his grey eyes for something, she didn't know what, before capturing his lips with her own. Draco was a phenomenal kisser. He was gentle, yet firm and ardent, and he tasted so wonderful. She could kiss him for an eternity and never tire of it.

The brunette felt him groping her flesh, which reminded her that she should have been undressing him. She reached between them, undoing the remainder of his shirt buttons. When the pieces hung to the sides, she allowed herself to explore his torso, teasing him lightly with her nails as she reached the top of his pants.

Draco pulled away from her mouth and watched her get off the bed and onto her knees as she yanked at his trousers, pulling them off completely. She returned to his lap, happy with the very solid mass she felt poking at her bum, and removed his shirt from his arms. How very fair he was, she noted. She stared at him again, and this time, Draco pressed his mouth against hers, feverishly nipping and pulling and sucking her full lips. Astoria's hips rolled over him of their own accord, and she gasped, pleased with the pleasure it brought her.

Draco nearly choked. He moved his mouth from hers to tease her neck, gaining more of the pretty little sounds his wife made. Finally, he moved to the top of her breasts, puffing attractively out of her corset top, and he sucked and licked and bit and kissed the soft, pillow-y mounds.

"Draco," Astoria sighed. This was certainly better than she had hoped for. Her man shifted their positions, and now he was lying on top of her.

"Draco," she said again. "I'm-

"I know."

"Be gentle."

"I will," he promised, kissing her again. "By the way, is that mimosa I smell?"

"Yes," she replied, smiling innocently.

"You're a clever girl, Astoria."

"So I've been told."