My wife

HG/DM, HG/RW

NC-17

Autors note: Inspired by the song 'I saw red' by Warrant, an awesome hair band from the 80's. It's not a song fic, I'm just giving credit where it's due.

I don't care for Ron. Never have. Don't think I ever will. I only wrote this so I could say I did.

Everything else contained within belongs to JK Rowling. Except for Draco Malfoy. He belongs to me. :)

Dedicated to my buddy Matt: The only guy I know who read HP, and the only person I know who prefers cannon! :) Hope you like it!

That being said, enjoy.

My wife has been acting strange.

Sure, she's always been strange. I mean, she married me right? Nevertheless, she's been acting different. She's always been about schedules and organization. Her day is thrown off if the kids come home one minute late, or if she's one potato short for dinner. I mean, she can still function, but it's obvious that she's not happy about her day not going exactly to the letter. But maybe it's something only I can see. We have been married for twelve years now; it might just be something an outsider wouldn't see. When you've been married as long as we have, you get used to a person and their quirks. There's a sort of comfort level there.

And for the last few days, she's not been her usual self.

She's worked at the ministry for a few years now. Ever since Jacob started school. She told me she was bored and it would only be a few hours a day. We don't really need the money. My team won the Quidditch Finals for the second year in a row now, and our sponsors pay us quite handsomely. Next year we've got a good shot at going to the World Cup.

In the beginning, her work was only a few hours a week. It ended up being a few hours a day. Not that it matters. I'm always at practice and such, or doing something 'promotional' for a sponsor. And the kids are in school all day. She would come home before them and she would bake cookies and would sit and help them pile over homework while she made dinner for all of us. And she has always insisted on making dinner herself. Funny thing, her cooking is better when she makes it the muggle way. When she prepares it using magic, it's almost a given that she'll burn something or undercook it.

Our dinner has been magiked for the last two weeks. Tessa complains that mum sometimes doesn't get home until after they do, and she always runs straight to the bathroom and takes a shower when she does.

And her temper has been shorter than usual, which sometimes it is. Normally, it's only during that time of the month, but it's been a whole month now.

Maybe they're just things that only I would notice. Maybe.

Something is definitely going on with my wife. But maybe it's just me.

She's late most nights, and a few nights I've had to make dinner myself. She comes running in, with her cheeks flushed and her hair a muss and she'll apologize profusely and ramble on and on about an artifact that someone found that they think might have belonged to Merlin himself. She'll kiss the children and tell them she's sorry and then she sits down to eat, claiming that's she famished.

She helps clean up the house, using magic. She hates using magic to clean. And she sings while she does it. Sometimes she only hums.

When the homework is done and the kids are clean and in bed, she usually yawns and tells me she's going to bed, to read for a bit. I wait a few minutes and then join her. When I walk in, she closes the book and turns out the light on her side of the bed, and rolls over.

Sometimes I reach for her, when I crawl under the sheets. Most times she sighs loudly and tells me she has a headache, or a busy day tomorrow and she needs to get her sleep. I pull away, dejected.

Maybe she's not acting weird. Maybe it's just the stress of her job.

Now I know there's something going on with my wife. Something is definitely not right.

She's late every night now. Some times she skips dinner altogether. When she does come in, she won't look me in the eye. She acts like everything is normal, but she flinches when I touch her now. She tries to hide it, but it's so obvious sometimes.

She's been dressing differently too. She wears skirts almost every day now, and some of them are so short, I wonder if they belong to our daughter. Her shirts are more provocative too. When she came home the other day, the bust of her shirt was hanging open. I caught a glimpse of red lace. My wife has never worn anything except for matronly white bras. She's never worn any lace or pushups or fancy straps.

She's also taken to wearing those ridiculous thongs. She keeps them in a bottom drawer, underneath her biggest and bulkiest sweaters. She has quite a collection of lacey under things hidden there.

She wears her hair up now. Sometimes she braids it, sometimes it's a twist. A few times it's been a bun. She's been casting glamours on her face, adding color to her cheeks and eyelids. She's wearing a new perfume too. It's not her usual scent, but it's still very nice. It's the kind that smells expensive. She just shrugged it off and said she needed a change.

The other night she woke me up from a sound sleep. She had just put one knee over my head. She began to grind her sex against my face, forcing me to either make love to it, or suffocate. I licked and sucked and lapped at the juices that were running forth. She bucked and moaned and rubbed her own breasts chanting 'oh yes'. When she reached her peak she shuddered and collapsed at my side. I wasted no time, flipping her onto her back before she changed her mind. I began to pump into her, and I almost stopped when I realized she was thrusting back. Quite hard too. I tried to keep up with her fast pace. She began to run her fingernails down my back. I knew that she was drawing blood. My orgasm came quickly and hers was right behind. I rolled off her and tried to catch my breath. When I turned to ask her where that had come from, I noticed that she was already asleep.

Sex with her has never been like that. Ever. It's always been gentle and predictable. She's never been that responsive to my touch before, ever.

Maybe it's just hormones. Maybe.

I know what's wrong with my wife.

If someone would have told me that they knew, and had told me, I would have said it was impossible and they're crazy. Not my wife.

I found out the hard way.

I went to the Ministry to visit my father. He wanted to show me the new laptop that the Ministry had given him. It took him several minutes to show me everything that it could do. Well, everything that he had figured out. There was supposed to be a Muggleborn coming in to show him more.

I figured that as long as I was there, I might as well stop in and say hello. Maybe offer to take her lunch if she was hungry. I knew she had been busy, but what could it hurt to just stop in? Familiar with her department, I walked directly to her office, oblivious of the whispers and stares as people pointed at me. I mean, I am famous. That's why they were whispering, right? Her office door was closed, and I stopped, trying to figure out if I should knock, or just go right in.

I wish that I had knocked.

She was in there, all right. But working on something that I wouldn't have expected.

I knew without a doubt it was my wife. No one has hair like that. It was still the same chestnut color that it had been in school, but it was now more wavy than curly and hung down past her waist. It was hanging down now, down her back.

Down her naked back.

Her entire body was naked, actually. Save her shoes, and a very provocative pair of stockings that came up to mid thigh. She was lying on her stomach, stretched out across her desk. She was facing the other way, but I knew without a doubt that it was her.

What I didn't know, was who the man was that was slamming into her. Although I had a pretty good guess. His blond hair was almost white, and it hung down his back. He was standing directly behind her, and he was thrusting in and out of my wife. She was writhing and moaning and calling out in a way she never did with me. Ever.

I stood there, totally in shock and unable to move, as I watched the man reach his hand under her, to my wife's core, pushing the button that sent her careening over the edge of bliss. She threw her head back and screamed out, and it was the sexiest thing I had ever seen.

He must have joined her, his hands grabbing her hips as he grunted and his body shook.

I stood there watching as the man collapsed on my wife's sweaty form. He kissed her shoulder and I heard the murmured words of love.

Not just from him, but from both of them.

That was when I closed the door.

I don't think I'm going to love her anymore.

~fin~