Disclaimer: In its use of intellectual property and characters belonging to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et cetera, this work is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. No profit is being made from this work.
Author's Note: This was a Secret Santa gift for pagan_toon, and she graciously said that I may share it with you all. :) Enjoy!
Heralded by the sharp CRACK! of Apparition, Draco and Hermione appeared in the middle of their bedroom, laughing and breathless and more than a little tipsy. The evening's festive celebration of Chinese New Year, sponsored by Malfoy Enterprises, Ltd., had been months in the planning. Their hard work had paid off. The gala event had been a huge success, improving trade relations between China's and the United Kingdom's magical communities a hundredfold.
Hermione's form-fitting, red Chinese cheongsam gown glowed in the light from their fireplace, which had been kept stoked by one of the Manor's house-elves. A single Chinese dragon, stitched in golden thread, writhed sinuously around her waist. Her hair was caught up in a bun at the crown of her head, held in place with lacquered hair combs. Draco's eyes hungrily raked over her, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He twirled her out, then quickly back into his embrace, as though performing an intricate dance.
"You look positively ravishing, my dear," he said as he leaned her back over his arm. As he kissed her, he carefully took her wand from her hand and tossed it aside.
Hermione didn't seem to notice. She laughed, clinging to his shoulders. "Why, thank you, Draco, but you know, you don't look so bad yourself." She ran a hand over the sleeve of his own Chinese robe, which was dark-green silk embroidered all over with silver dragons. The reptiles danced across the fabric, entwining with each other and spouting sparkling, glittery flames. "Very handsome."
Draco smirked as he gazed into her eyes. The fiery breath of his enchanted dragons was reflected there, making them twinkle. "No need for modesty, my lovely wife. You're gorgeous. Didn't you notice? The Chinese Minister for Magic couldn't keep his eyes off of you all evening." He began to leave a trail of kisses up her graceful neck. "Neither could anyone else," he murmured. "A less confident man than I might have been jealous."
"Oh yes? Confident, are you?" she asked, saucily. Draco smiled against her skin. With his free hand, he began to unfasten her dress as he nibbled her throat, his deft fingers making quick work of the little, silk-covered buttons. He drew the gown down, revealing her creamy shoulders.
Hermione shivered, but not from cold. Her husband's fingers, hot breath, and soft lips were driving her mad. She wanted to regain some control, so with a little difficulty, she reached up with one hand and managed to tweak the rounded, black Chinese hat from his head, mussing up his fine, almost-white hair. She flicked the hat like a frisbee onto the nearby settee. When he ceased kissing her throat and narrowed his eyes at her, she smirked and raised one eyebrow in a dare. "Just how confident are you, my love?"
He growled, and then set her on her feet, his hands holding her sides. For a moment he continued to silently study her, then with a dark chuckle, he suddenly tugged the dress down, ensnaring her arms while revealing her breasts. As she gasped in surprise, he lifted her easily, carrying her to their huge bed and dropping her onto it. Her skirt rode halfway up her thighs as he did so. With her arms pinned to her sides by the gown's short sleeves and her legs hampered by the tight silk, she couldn't for the life of her wriggle away. She lay there gaping up at him, bemused by her predicament.
Draco grinned down at his disheveled, sexy captive. A quick move of his hand had his own wand in his grasp, and with a twist of his wrist, his formal Chinese robe vanished in a puff of embroidered dragon flame. Placing his wand safely out of his clever wife's reach, he drew in a deep breath and watched her eyes darken as they slid over his lithe, muscular form. Standing over her in all of his haughty nakedness, he nodded.
"Confident as hell, sweetheart."