One of Draco Malfoy's greatest pleasures in life was watching his wife skillfully work a room.
Leaning back against the wall, a champagne flute dangling from his long fingers, he watched Hermione as she glided through the ballroom, from one table to another, charming the stuffiest of wizards. Even the most patronizing witches would pull her aside to admire her jewelry, the finest diamonds Malfoy money could buy, or her sleek, custom-designed gown, or the elegant sweep of dark curls that spilled over her bare shoulders. Their admiration for the young woman was blatant and Hermione accepted it with her usual self-deprecating grace.
In the years since Draco had been forced to choose a Muggleborn witch to marry, he'd grown ever more dazzled by Hermione Malfoy's power and natural beauty. It was only appropriate, in his opinion, that everyone else in the wizarding world share his sentiment.
Hermione looked especially lovely tonight. At six months pregnant, she glowed with an inner light that seemed to envelope everyone fortunate enough to be standing near her. She was dressed in a form-fitting gown of the palest ice-blue satin, cut scandalously low in back and hugging the rounded bulge of her stomach.
Unlike most witches who tended to favor the traditional and modest maternity robes common in their society, Hermione had embraced each of her three pregnancies, confidently dressing in clothing that showcased her changing body rather than hiding it from view. While she was carrying their first child, Devon, she attended a Ministry charity ball in a flowing white gown that exposed her generous cleavage to the extent that the Minister of Magic had tripped over his own wife's fur cloak as they greeted the Malfoys, his bulging gaze fastened on Hermione's plump breasts.
Lucius had been livid, even going so far as to lecture Hermione almost to tears on the conduct of a 'proper Malfoy wife." However, it got him nowhere and he gave up once faced with both Narcissa's and Hermione's inflexibility on the issue.
Draco, after an initial period of jealous rage due to the rabid attention she garnered from other men, quickly learned that a happy, pregnant Hermione was an amorous and very enthusiastic Hermione indeed. Draco would have heartily approved of her strolling starkers through Knockturn Alley if it kept her content and receptive to his affection.
With narrowed eyes, Draco watched as Hermione tossed her head back, laughing merrily at something Adrian Pucey, the newest Deputy Minister of International Magical Cooperation, was whispering in her ear. Her left hand rested on his arm; the large platinum-set diamond on her ring finger sparkled in the light of the chandelier overhead. Draco took a sip of his champagne, licking his lips as Pucey touched Hermione's bare back, his fingers lingering a moment too long for Draco's taste.
Setting the glass down on a nearby table, Draco crossed the ballroom floor, his silver silk robes billowing behind him.
"Pucey. You aren't trying to seduce my wife, are you?" Draco drawled as he joined Adrian and Hermione. To his satisfaction, the older man quickly stepped away, his hand dropping back to his side.
"Draco! Darling, be polite," Hermione replied, giving Draco a dazzling smile. "Adrian was just telling me about his latest trip to Serbia. He ran into Viktor at the Ministry in Belgrade."
"Really? How is old Krum these days?" Draco said as he looped one arm around Hermione's waist and pulled her against his side. Giving Adrian a lazy smirk, he leaned down and kissed Hermione's bare shoulder, his lips lingering against her smooth, fragrant skin. He felt her tremble delicately and he grinned, pleased that he could elicit such a reaction from her with nothing more than a single kiss.
When he raised his head, their eyes met and it was his turn to shiver in desire. Hermione's dark eyes burned lustfully and she gave him a teasing smile, one that promised a long night of carnal delight. With his other hand, he caressed the swell of her abdomen, wordlessly asserting his claim to both her and their child. Adrian dipped his head briefly, an amused smile on his handsome face.
"Hermione has been kind enough to tell me about her proposal regarding educational reform. It's brilliant, of course, and I've pledged my support," Adrian said mildly, keeping his eyes on Draco in an effort to silently reassure the prickly young man that he had no designs on his tempting wife.
Hermione turned towards Draco, still encased within the circle of his arm. She smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Adrian's going to set the proposal before the International committee and try to engage both Durmstrang and Beauxbatons as well! It would be wonderful if all three magical institutions – the other being Hogwarts, of course - could share a uniform curriculum. If all goes well, we could extend the program abroad, to Salem Institute and the Académie de Magie Québec!"
For a moment, Draco drank in the sight of her. She felt so good in his arms, so warm and familiar, that his heart ached with love for her. He didn't deserve her, not by half, but when she looked at him the way she was now, as if he were the most important man in the room... well, to say that he was smitten would be an understatement.
"I think it's a wonderful idea and I have no doubt in my mind that you'll be able to convince the educational committee that it's the best option for reform. Now, if Pucey would excuse us, I'd like to have the next dance."
With a murmur of assent, Adrian moved off and Draco led Hermione to the dance floor and pulled her into his arms. He held her tightly to his chest, content for the moment to simply hold her and breathe in the scent of her hair. Hermione laid her head on his shoulder, sighing with contentment.
They were so wrapped up in each other that they missed the fond and knowing looks of their friends and acquaintances.
The tempestuous romance of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger – from childhood enemies to devoted lovers – was a well-known fairytale. Long gone were the days when an angry, misguided Draco would taunt and threaten the brilliant, Muggleborn witch. By a controversial, and fortuitous, edict by the Ministry of Magic, they were betrothed and not a day went by that Draco didn't offer praise to God that he was blessed with Hermione and their two, soon to be three, children.
"You look a million miles away," Hermione murmured, reaching up to touch his forehead, smoothing the faint lines that had gathered there. "What's troubling you?"
He grasped her hand and brought it to his lips, bestowing a kiss upon each finger. "Nothing at all.
I was just thinking about you and our children. About how beautiful each of you are. Even this little one," he said, dropping their joined hands to her stomach. They began to sway gently together, not as much to the music surrounding them but to the tune of their own bodies.
"Devon and Gelsey are beautiful, absolutely. Me, however...I'm just fat," Hermione said dryly.
Draco's lips curved into a frown, however.
"That's bloody nonsense and you know it. If anything, you're even more beautiful than usual. I like when you're pregnant. I may just keep you that way, what do you think about that, Madam Malfoy?"
Hermione's laugh was a joyous sound that attracted the attention of nearby dancers. "You must want something, because you are laying it on thick," she teased.
"You know what I want," Draco teased, nipping at the tender flesh just below one diamond adorned ear. "Naked and spread out on our bed, begging me to fuck you, would be a start."
"Draco! Goodness, you're incorrigible!" Hermione gasped with feigned shock. "What would our guests think?"
Draco's hand skimmed over her silken hip and boldly cupped her bum. "They'd wonder what was taking me so long dragging you upstairs," he whispered in her ear, punctuating the lustful growl with a lick to the delicate curve of flesh. "I want you, Hermione. I want you so badly I can hardly stand it."
All pretense of humor disappeared from Hermione's face, to be replaced by a desperate, mounting desire. "Don't, Draco. We have guests," she whispered as he molded his body to hers, the evidence of his yearning for her pressing against her belly.
"I don't care," he whispered, surreptitiously grinding himself against Hermione as she moaned helplessly. "I want these people to leave. Now. I want you."
Hermione turned her head, their lips meeting, and it was all Draco could do to not rut against her like a randy dog. The kiss was light; to the casual observer, it was nothing more than an affectionate peck between spouses, but to Draco and Hermione it was a scorching prelude to the night ahead. Hermione's fingers tightened on his arms, her lips parting just enough to welcome the tip of his tongue inside. She touched it with her own, stroking the damp, tender skin just inside his bottom lip.
"Mmmm, champagne," Hermione moaned, looking up at him through her lashes. "You taste bubbly."
"God, woman... the things I'm going to do to you. You won't be able to..."
"Draco." The voice was cultured and smooth, but unwelcome all the same. Draco glanced over and found his father giving him a raised eyebrow and a cautionary smile.
"Father."
Lucius's pale gaze flicked over to Hermione, whose cheeks were now flushed like those of a naughty child. "I think I would like to share a dance with my daughter-in-law. Go attend your mother."
Draco gritted his teeth but knew that Lucius was wise in separating him from his wife for the moment. With a willpower he hardly realized he possessed, Draco stepped away from Hermione and arranged his robes, thankful for the well-tailored trousers holding his erection at bay.
Hermione gave him a wistful little smile as Lucius whirled her into a waltz and into the crowd of dancers.
Taking a deep, cleansing breath and willing his body to relax, Draco went in search of Narcissa.
It was well past midnight by the time the last guest left Malfoy Manor and the house-elves set about cleaning the ballroom. After bidding his parents goodnight, Draco and Hermione hurried down the wide hallway leading to their wing of the manor, eager to reach the privacy of their spacious suite and the solace of each other's arms.
Stepping aside so Hermione could precede him into the sitting room, Draco reached out and caressed her bum on her way past. She tossed him a flirtatious look as she continued on into the bedroom.
"I hope you weren't planning on getting a good night's sleep, Hermione," he drawled as he loosened his tie and shrugged out of his robes. "I plan on keeping you very busy."
He paused in the doorway, his words trailing off. Hermione turned to look at him, a finger pressed to her lips. She gestured towards the bed.
Curled together on the silk duvet lay their children, their tiny hands clasped together as they soundly slept. They were in their nightclothes and bare feet; six year old Devon's burnished bronze curls contrasting with three year old Gelsey's thick platinum tresses as they cuddled close, rosy cheeks pressed together. They were a perfect vision of sweet innocence.
Hermione drew closer and sat on the bed beside Gelsey. She gently rubbed the backs of her fingers along the little girl's cheek. "Gelsey. Gels, wake up, darling," she whispered, gently coaxing the child to consciousness. "There's my sweet, sleepy girl!"
"Mummy..." Gelsey whispered, turning away from her brother to curl against Hermione's swollen belly. "Wanted to see you after the party, Mummy."
"Did you now? You should be in your own bed, my sweet," Hermione murmured soothingly as she cuddled the child close, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. Sensing the loss of his sister's comforting presence, Devon's eyes opened and he too scooted closer to Hermione, until he was pressed against her side. He curled his arm around Gelsey and slipped his fingers into his mother's hand, then promptly fell back to sleep, snoring softly against Gelsey's shoulder.
Draco could honestly say that nothing on earth gave him more pleasure than to watch his family during moments like this. They were happy, they were safe, and they were his entire life, his sole reason for existence. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he would go to the ends of the earth and beyond for them.
Draco crossed over to the bed, basking in Hermione's loving and still amorous smile. He slid his hands into the mass of her hair and gently tugged her head back. Their lips met in a deep, languid kiss, tongues swirling sinuously together. Even with their drowsy children between them, their desire for one another was blistering. He trailed kisses along her jaw line, before pressing his lips against her ear.
"Let's put these two to bed, before I lose control and shag you senseless with them in the room."
Hermione laughed and smacked him on the chest. "You would, wouldn't you? You're so depraved, Draco Malfoy. I honestly don't know why I agreed to marry you."
"You didn't have a choice, as I recall. And, in any case, all it took was one night in my bed and you were practically dragging me down the aisle," Draco teased as he lifted Devon into his arms.
The little boy grunted softly and burrowed his face against Draco's shoulder. Hermione followed suit, Gelsey cradled against her chest, and her arms and legs twined around her mother.
"As I recall, Mr. Malfoy, I had you gagging for it for months. You were like a pathetic, starving puppy, following me around all hours of the night and day. I could barely function for you groping at me all the time," Hermione replied tartly, but as she walked past him, she let her hand trail lightly over his groin. "Mmmm... you are an anxious boy, aren't you?"
Draco bit back a groan as her touch reawakened his passion. "You're playing with fire, witch."
Looking back at him, over the top of her daughter's pale head, Hermione blew him a kiss. "I can't wait for you to make me burn."
The children's nursery was across the hall. Each had their own bedroom, which adjoined a central playroom. Another adjacent room, once used for nannies, had been turned into a quiet retreat for Hermione and the new baby, once he or she arrived.
After getting both children tucked into their own beds, with stuffed toys and lots of kisses and proclamations of love, Hermione and Draco made their way back to their suite.
Draco crossed immediately to the bed, which had been turned down in their absence by the attentive house-elves, the pillows fragrant with the heady scent of Narcissa's own roses.
Hermione, with another kiss blown in his direction, continued on into her dressing room and Draco could hear her humming as she prepared for bed. He stripped out of his clothing and with a casual flick of his wand, sent them flying off in the direction of his own wardrobe, then stretched out nude on the cool sheets. While he waited for Hermione, he cupped his hand over his cock, loosely encircling the semi-rigid flesh and stroking himself to the tune of his wife puttering around in her en suite bath.
"Granger?"
"Coming," she called out. "Don't start without me."
Draco grinned, brushing his thumb lightly over the slick glans. "Wouldn't dream of it. But, I'd advise you to move your arse before I change my mind."
Her laughter was throaty and so full of promise that Draco shivered all over and he closed his eyes tightly in an attempt to stem the rising flood of passion threatening to overtake him. When he opened them again, Hermione had emerged from the bathroom and while he pushed himself up onto his elbows, watching her with hungry eyes, she waved her hand to dim the lights. She glided towards him, still graceful despite the bulge of their child beneath her breasts.
"You look magnificent," Draco whispered.
And indeed she did. Clad in a diaphanous negligee of black chiffon, her hair flowing down her back in a waterfall of warm, brown curls, Hermione was every inch a woman. His woman, his witch. Draco was again thankful that she was his and that she loved him every bit as much as he loved her.
"You're overdressed," he said as he turned over onto his knees, crawling to the edge of the mattress as she approached.
"This old thing?" she said, twirling around. The floaty fabric swirled around her legs and Draco could see that she was gloriously nude beneath the offending robe. He raised up, his now-erect cock bobbing between them.
"I've been waiting all night for you, Hermione. Don't tease me any longer," he pleaded, wishing he could hide the plaintive need in his voice. Hermione's smile faded and she came to him then, rushing into his arms and flinging herself against his body.
"Oh, Draco..." she moaned as his hands made quick work of the black negligee, the garment flung aside as he pulled her onto the bed. Hermione arched up as he slipped his hand between her thighs, gently parting her swollen, tender flesh. He knew, after their years of marriage, which touches would drive her wild, which words he could whisper in her ear that would have her spreading her legs in wanton invitation.
Draco knew Hermione's body as well as his own, worshiped it as he would pray to the gods. He had learned from Hermione's previous pregnancies that she was extraordinarily responsive during this time, her body so attuned to his and thrumming with the magic that made them what they were that he could scarcely keep up with her accelerated libido.
Almost instantly, Hermione was writhing against his hand, her fingers clutching at his arm so tightly he could feel the sting of her fingernails in his skin. She turned her face towards his chest, her breath coming in hot, moist pants. He looked down at her, drinking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and riotous tangle of hair spread across the sheets.
"Draco, God... please..." she whispered harshly against his skin, her fingernails digging halfmoons in his arm as her hips arched awkwardly off the bed.
Draco leaned over her as her mouth opened in a wail of pleasure. "Come for me, Hermione. Come all over me," he said, before pressing his mouth to hers, his tongue plunging past her lips, her teeth, to swirl around her own. He swallowed her muffled scream as he brushed his thumb directly across her clit, once, then twice. A third time had Hermione practically levitating in his arms. It took such little effort, he mused to himself, to have her begging him for more. Such an enthusiastic kitten, his lovely Hermione.
The scrape of Hermione's fingernails on his scalp preceded her fisting her hand in his hair and wrenching her mouth from his. For a bare moment, an apology sprang to Draco's lips, only to fade away when he saw the look of raw need in her dark eyes. "Fuck me, Draco," she whispered harshly, her crude words sending a refreshed bolt of lust straight to Draco's cock.
"My pleasure." Withdrawing his slippery fingers from between her thighs, Draco caressed her stomach lovingly, then pressed a lingering kiss above her navel. "Ride me tonight?"
He lay back on the bed as Hermione rolled onto her side. As she supported herself against his chest with one hand, Draco helped her straddle his hips. She still retained much of her natural grace, but the extra weight of their child made skillful maneuvering next to impossible. By the time she was poised above him, she was a bit winded and they were both giggling madly.
As she guided him into her body, sinking onto his cock with a sigh of contentment, Hermione grinned impishly down at Draco. "This must be like having sex with Shamu."
Draco, too caught up in the delicious friction of Hermione surrounding his now very happy penis, frowned distractedly. "What's a shamu?" He reached around and cupped her arse with both hands as she lifted herself up and down.
"Never mind," Hermione said with an affectionate smile. "Just love me."
"Always."
For several long minutes, those were the last coherent words they spoke. Instead, they communicated in an age-old language, one that was spoken in soft, guttural moans and loving caresses. Hermione leaned over as far as her stomach would allow, her hands braced for balance on Draco's shoulders and her hips rising and falling over his as she instinctively sought her pleasure with his body as her instrument.
Draco watched her with a desperate hunger as her head fell back once more, her lush body trembling again with the force of her orgasm. She was so incredibly receptive tonight; she'd already come twice and he'd yet to reach his own peak. As she slumped bonelessly over him, Draco carefully eased her off of him and onto her back.
Hermione braced her feet on the bed and lifted her hips as she reached up to cup her own breasts, fingers lightly tweaking her dark, stiff nipples. "Don't forget a pillow," she gasped, but he'd already anticipated her request and had grabbed one of the many pillows piled at the head of the bed and tucked it beneath her hips.
"I've trained you well, haven't I?" Hermione said, giggling happily, as Draco maneuvered back between her upraised thighs. She watched him from beneath heavily lidded eyes as he spread her open again and pushed back inside. As he filled her completely, he brushed his thumb over her over-sensitized clit and she shuddered as the pleasure built again within her womb. "Mmmm... oh, do that again. And again again again again!"
The delicious feel of her cunt sheathing him had completely befuddled Draco's mind; he pulled back slowly, savoring the silken-wet sensation, then slammed forward with a jerk of his hips.
Hermione cried out, flinging her arms out to grip handfuls of the bedding as Draco set a punishing rhythm. He pulled her legs higher, until she was holding him within the cradle of her hips, helpless under his sensual assault.
"God, Hermione... you are... so... perfect. So fucking perfect..." Draco gasped as his thrusting grew increasingly erratic. He could feel his impending orgasm building at the base of his spine and between his trembling thighs, spiraling outward with each powerful lunge of his hips. Within moments, Draco was spilling inside her, filling Hermione with his warm seed as his vision darkened around the edges from the intensity of his climax.
Slumping forward, Draco pressed his sweat-damp forehead to Hermione's stomach, smiling as he felt the gentle flutterings of his child beneath the surface. "Sorry, baby," he drawled sleepily. "Did Mum and Dad wake you up?"
He reverently placed a tender kiss on the fullest part of Hermione's belly as he crawled up to lay beside her. She turned her head and smiled at him.
"I love you," she whispered, turning onto her side and snuggling into the circle of his arms. "Scoot over, the pillow's wet."
Draco laughed, but obliged her by reaching down and jerking the pillow from beneath her arse and tossing it over the side of the bed. Hermione sighed happily and cuddled close again.
"Mmmm... where was I?"
Draco smoothed the damp curls from her neck and kissed her at the juncture of her shoulder, sucking lazily at the soft skin there. "You were telling me what a fabulous, incomparable lover I am. I'm still listening."
Hermione smacked his bare stomach playfully. "Think rather highly of yourself, do you?
Although I will give you that... you are incomparable as I have no one with whom to compare you."
Draco caught her wrist in his hand, pulling it up to his lips. "Nor will you, my love," he murmured against her fingers. "If you ever feel the need to bring another man to your bed, send a killing curse my way first, for I don't think I could bear it."
She was in his arms in the space of a moment, peppering his face with frantic kisses. "Don't say such things, Draco! You're my love, my only true love, and I think I would die of grief if anything happened to you!" With a capricious turn of mood common to expectant witches, her dark, expressive eyes filled with tears. "Please say you won't ever leave me!"
Startled by Hermione's sudden lament, Draco turned to face her fully, curving his body around hers and cupping her face in his hands. With his thumbs he swept away the tears streaming over her flushed cheeks, then kissed her trembling lips again and again until she sighed fitfully into his mouth, parting her lips eagerly for his exploration.
Once he'd kissed her into silence, Draco pulled away, gazing deeply into her drowsy eyes. "My beautiful girl has had a very long evening, hasn't she?" he said, rubbing the backs of his fingers over her cheek.
"I'm not a child, Draco," she said petulantly even as her eyes drooped shut. Draco smiled softly and carefully tucked her into his embrace, while silently summoning the rumpled blankets to cover them.
"No, but you're heavy with mine and it's made you a bit tired, don't you think? Go to sleep, Granger. Go to sleep and have happy dreams."
Draco kissed the tip of her nose, but Hermione had already dozed off. He watched her until sleep claimed him as well.
~The End~