"You're hurting me," Hermione panted, but she doubted that he could hear her. At any rate she didn't really want him to stop. Yes, the conjured ropes around her wrists were cutting into her skin. Yes, his thrusts were rough and quick. Yes, she was utterly exhausted.

But she liked it.

There was a thin line between pleasure and pain, and she and Draco tested that line frequently. Tonight was no different. It had been opportune that as Hermione had left the bathroom, solely in her towel, Draco had come home. He had said nothing and done nothing except loosen his tie as he walked over and pulled her towel away from her. Hermione could barely get a smile or a greeting out before Draco dropped to his knees, kissing his way up her leg and dipping his head and tongue between her thighs.

That had been the beginning of a tiresome evening. One that had led to Draco picking her up, throwing her onto the bed, and using his wand to cast two perfect Incarcerous spells to tie her hands to the bed posts. Was there any better use of a bed that had them?

Draco and Hermione certainly didn't think so.

"Are you going to untie me now?" Hermione asked with a smile after catching her breath. She was smiling because Draco was trailing kisses from her shoulders and up her arm to her hand.

"Why?" he softly pondered. He stopped with the kissing when he reached the rope and let his lips lick across her fingers. When he was finished, he looked down at her and grinned. "I quite like when you're like this."

"Only because you like to torment me," Hermione playfully huffed. She looked away from his face, a wicked expression on her own as she noticed his cock very close to her face. She leaned up and licked it once, earning a very arched brow from the blond.

"Do you want me to untie you or not?"

"I won't be able to play with you if you don't."

Draco let the corner of his mouth curl up and he nodded. "Touché."

He finally untied her hands from the bedposts, and Hermione analyzed the damage. Red marks around her wrists, lightly discolored hands, her arms (and all of her) tired and achy. She happily eased herself off of the bed and could almost taste Draco's moan of complaint as she did.

"Forgotten me already?" Draco brooded.

Hermione laughed and lifted her silk robe from her dresser drawer, lazily tying the sash, so her font was still mostly visible. She faced her husband and leaned with one hand on her dresser top as she addressed him. "I'm exhausted, thirsty, and hungry. So, off to the kitchen I go."

"All that means is that you'll have to play with me in the kitchen."

"Or the living room," Hermione shrugged. "That's always been fun."

Draco's mind instantly filled with memories because yes, they'd had several moments in their living room to make their bedroom jealous. In fact, if his wife was headed in that direction, he'd might as well join her.

He quickly hopped out of bed, slipping on his pants from earlier because Merlin knew how much he loved when she undressed him. He made his way through the modest, yet lavish house and found Hermione not in the kitchen, but in the living room. It was quite opportune, but Draco, unfortunately, had forgotten what he had left there.

"Draco," Hermione said, privy to him having walked into the room. "How many times have I said no dead people in my living room?"

Draco stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked up to stand next to her. A somewhat elderly vagabond was laying on the floor with his throat slashed. Although blood wasn't exactly gushing , there was still a steady stream that had stained the carpet and the hardwood floor. Draco turned to Hermione and pursed his lips.

"Two?"

"Three," Hermione corrected and sighed. "And you made a mess."

"I was in a rush," Draco explained as he wrapped his arms around her torso. "I cleaned myself up first, coming back for him, but the magic… It came on quickly."

Hermione had had a feeling that was what their latest escapade had been due to. The days after the curse's fulfillment were often felt in waves. Effects that she could feel washing over her as Draco stood behind her, a hand on her hip and the other creeping its way up to her breasts.

Eight years. Eight deaths. If the Ministry had known that this would be the result, that marriage law would have never been passed.

Author's note: Originally posted on AO3, this was written for the Halloween Trope Fest hosted by the Dramione Fanfiction Writers FB group. A 3-chapter story (maybe 4). Lightly inspired by the twisted-ness that is the Addams Family.

An enormous shout-out to LightofEvolution for being such a lovely friend and beta :)

-WP