A/N: Another Dramione, ladies (and gentlemen - if theres a male reading this, please raise your hand).

This is another Dramione. Though, most of the descriptions are actual ones of my husband. We've been together for 14 years, and I've had the pleasure to give him many backrubs over the years. Should you ever read this, darling, this one is dedicated to you. I've been in a rough place in the past two years, and you cried with me, held me, and took my violent and self-destructive moods with a stride. Now I finally know we are enough. You and me and our love that's not designed to include a third or fourth heart.

We. Are. Enough.

The phrase "sweet baby dragons" was created by my awesome friend MrBenzedrine amd isn't mine.


Draco Malfoy was totally helpless.

His limbs dangled uselessly at his sides; the control over his body was practically non-existent.

He moaned, and the sound he emanated was soul-consuming.

Hermione loved it when her boyfriend was in this state of deep relaxation. Her fingertips trailed over the pale skin of his back, forming circles, letters, nonsensical patterns, while he made sounds of utter delight. Sometimes, when she reached his head, her fingernails scraped his scalp and his moans reached an almost sexual quality.

She loved the quiet evenings with him when he wasn't deep in Auror missions with Harry and she not too involved in her job at St. Mungo's. Just him and her and a movie. Though, she doubted he had opened his stunning grey eyes in the last 30 minutes to watch Stargate because he was lost in the oblivion of her loving treatment. In those moments, his soul was naked before her. He was exposed and raw, and lay all his love and trust on her care - or that's what she told herself.

Suddenly, the Floo swooshed and Draco made a sound of utter displeasure. Hermione giggled at it, his rumbling sound warming her heart even more.

"Blaise, why are you interrupting?"

The blond's best friends tsked through the green flames, taking in Draco's state of undress - you couldn't have a decent back rub with your shirt on, right? - wincing, while Hermione continued her treatment and Draco sighed.

"Salazar, you really should close your floo connection when you're going at it, Malfoy! Those sounds you're making! Like a lion in heat!"

"Zabini, what do you want?"

"I wanted to see if you're up for a bit of pub crawling in Diagon Alley tonight, but I see you're occupied."

Hermione kneaded the hard muscles above Draco's shoulder blade, eliciting a loud moan from him. "Ten points to Slytherin for their striking observational skills," the brunette witch answered instead of her distracted better half.

The Italian chuckled. "Okay then, I'm going to leave you alone now. But please refrain from making sweet baby dragons until after the wedding, yes?"

Hermione laughed when Blaise disappeared again. However, Draco had only processed tidbits of the conversation. "So, Blaise will finally tie the knot with the Weaselette? Took him long enough."

Hermione scowled, "Him? How long will it take you?" She was only half teasing.

"I can't very well put a ring on your finger when you're half way on stroking me into oblivion."

"I could stop." Her fingers left his warm skin, tingling from the ongoing touch.

"No!" he objected, blindly grabbing her wrist and steering her hand back to his neck.

"Just continue, please! Five more minutes?" he pouted, the eyes still closed. Warmth spread in Hermione's heart as it did every time when he was so vulnerable like he was now.

"What do I get when I keep this up?" she asked and resumed kneading and touching his skin.

"You know that already," he answered, his lips curling into a smile that was half teasing, half seducing. They both were aware that usually a long round of lovemaking followed these cuddling sessions, no matter whose turn it was.

"Three more minutes," Hermione insisted, fully aware but not at least ashamed of how eager she sounded. "And you disconnect the Floo until tomorrow morning."

It wasn't obvious if the moan that followed was a result of her thumbs digging into the muscles of his lower back or the anticipation of what would happen in their bedroom in some minutes. "Anything you want, Princess."

Hermione smiled. He was hers as much as she was his, no matter if there was already a ring on her finger or not.

All was good.