"Granger, I'm home!" was the call as the whoosh of the floo died away.
"Granger? …Alright, I give up – where are you?"
"Oh, Draco! I'm in our bedroom, darling. Come on up – I've something of a surprise waiting for you!"
At these words, one golden eyebrow arched elegantly in supercilious skepticism.
"Surprise? What sort of – "
Feet stopped dead in their tracks at the door, both brows simultaneously flying up into the overarching hairline.
Hermione stood, facing her husband, by the curtain-covered window.
"Congratulations on your promotion, love," she said. "Robards' owl arrived just this afternoon."
Crossing over to him now, her hands took hold of his tie; fingers stroking up and down slowly, softly.
"In honor of the occasion, I thought I'd greet you wearing your favorite of my nightgowns…"
Indeed, she was – tanned golden and silk-smooth under his palms, her own bare skin…the finest fabric could not compare.
"So – do you like your surprise?" she inquired, peeking shyly up at him through thick lashes, her own dark-winged eyebrows drawn slightly together in a moue of faint trepidation.
Draco's response – lips crushing down over hers without preamble, brows lowered in an expression of lustful contentment – told her his answer without need of words.