A gift for Raven_maiden. HAPPY (belated) BIRTHDAY HEAUX! I hope you love this fic please feel free to 'what the fuck from Veep' me if not haha. A massive thank you to NuclearNik for the beta and to Paris Hilton and Riverwriter for casting their eyes over this too.
Enjoy.

"I'm not wearing them."

"Okay."

"I mean look at them." He thrust the offending trousers in her direction, and Hermione bit her lip so she didn't outright laugh at him.

"They're not that bad," she said, taking them.

Draco glanced at her over his shoulder from where he was standing in their walk-in-wardrobe, a look of disbelief painted on his face.

"They're bare-bottom trousers—"

"Assless chaps," she corrected.

"—and I won't be wearing them. I don't know what Potter was thinking."

"Why are you so offended?" Hermione asked, unable to contain her glee at the absurdity of the situation and openly laughing now. "You have a nice bum."

"Apparently Potter thinks so too," he said lowly.

"Draco."

"I'm not wearing them."

He was huffing now. Hermione could tell—even though she couldn't see his face—from the way he'd obviously folded his arms across his chest causing his shirt to stretch across his shoulders. He plucked a pair of dress trousers from a hanger, and Hermione crossed the room, snagging them out of his hand as she passed.

"Here," she said, chucking him a pair of worn jeans that he occasionally wore around the house on a Saturday afternoon. "You can't wear dress trousers on your stag. Put these on instead."

He pulled them on, hiding his nice bum from her view and mumbling incoherently in the process.

When he was dressed, Hermione stepped up behind him and wrapped her arms around his middle, resting her head against his back.

"You will try to have a good time tonight, won't you?" she asked, voice muffled by his shirt. Draco took her hand and turned in her embrace.

Cupping her jaw and stroking his thumb over her lips, Draco nodded. "Yes. But it will be fine. What's the worst that could happen?"

"It's a cowboy themed bachelor party," Hermione said, smirking at Draco as he pulled his newly purchased, tailormade dragonhide cowboy boots from their box. "I dread to think the kind of mischief you'll get up to."

"What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be in there, getting them free?"

"I've had the most brilliant idea."

Hermione looked up from sliding her umbrella away into her bag and stared at Pansy.

"What have you done?"

"Nothing bad," Pansy said, staring at Hermione with what she assumed was an innocent expression but all it really did was worry Hermione. "It's just a laugh."

She pulled Hermione into the police station by the hand; Hermione did her best not to slip on the wet tile as Pansy waved her hand and the doors opened for them.

"You know you're not supposed to use magic on Muggles," Hermione said when Pansy simply waved to the desk sergeant and guided Hermione through the very official Police only doors that separated the station from the public.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Are you kidding me?" Pansy turned to Hermione, looking incredulous. She opened a door, and Hermione stepped through, Pansy following close behind. "They deserve this."

"Okay," Hermione said, eyes flicking over the other occupants of the room—Daphne and Ginny—both of whom were staring through the window that Hermione knew was a one way mirror. "But they're naked."

"I know," Pansy said gleefully. Hermione was sure she was three seconds away from clapping her hands like a child at a birthday party. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"Is it?"

Pansy pulled Hermione towards the window, smirking at her. "You're telling me you've never thought about the size of Harry's cock?"

Hermione shuddered, grateful that for the moment at least, Harry's cock was covered by his hands. "No."

"Well, your loss. It's spectacular."

"Uh huh. You've seen Draco's. Why on earth are you so excited?"

"Because it's funny."

"They've seen each other naked before."

"But it's different," Pansy said, shrugging off Hermione's indifference. "They're always all going on about who has the biggest cock and now—" She gestured towards the glass, through which Draco, Harry, Ron, Neville, Theo, Blaise, Anthony, and Adrian were being nudged into place by what Hermione sincerely hoped wasn't a police officer under the influence of the Imperious Curse. "—Now we have evidence."

"This is the worst idea you've ever had. Including the time you thought it would be fun for us to go skinny dipping in the Black Lake."

"That was fun," Pansy protested with a huff.

Hermione snorted but said nothing until Daphne sidled up on her other side and nudged her with a wide smirk. "They're going to kill us," Hermione said.

"They won't even remember," Ginny said from where she was leaning over a computer beside another dazed looking officer. "Besides, what are they gonna do?" She straightened and crossed the room to join them at the mirror, stroking her finger over the silhouette of Blaise before leaning across to do the same to Draco—Hermione smacked her hand away. "Deny us sex?" she asked with a smirk.

"Besides," Daphne added before Hermione could argue her point, "it's a funny story. One for the best man's toast."

"I'm sure Narcissa will be delighted," Hermione said, shuddering as she remembered that Lucius was supposed to have joined the boys this evening but had been waylaid by a last minute dinner invitation.

Hermione wondered if Draco had begged his mother to make one up just so he wouldn't have to bring Lucius along.

She was reminded of Draco's predicament when the boy's laughs suddenly burst through the speakers, and she turned to see Harry and Draco laughing at an increasingly pale Ron who was glancing between the dazed police officers in the corner of the room and Harry.

"You're joking." Ron was spluttering, and Hermione watched Harry snort into his hand, her eye flicking down over his lean form.

She blinked as she realised she was staring at his cock.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Pansy said, and Hermione jumped. She'd somehow leaned right over without Hermione noticing and was speaking right into her ear. "And he's a grower too."

Hermione glared at her friend but flicked her gaze to Draco, who was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, thumb and forefinger stroking his chin as though in deep thought. Hermione's eyes flitted down his frame and lingered on his cock, lying flaccid but thick and heavy looking on the inside of his thigh as he spoke.

"No, Hermione told me. They really do make you bend over in the showers for soap," he said.

"Yeah," Hermione sighed dreamily. "Draco as well."

"I remember," Pansy snorted, and Hermione jolted.

She cleared her throat and glared pointedly at all her friends when she noticed that they'd been staring at Draco too.

"Malfoy is pretty too," Ron said, surprising all of them. "I mean handsome." He puffed his chest out, forgetting himself and crossing his arms over it. Ginny groaned from beside them, averting her eyes as the girls laughed and watched Ron blush as red as his hair as he stuttered, "Don't start."

"Fair enough," Harry agreed, laughing. "Malfoy, assume the position."

Draco startled and turned to look at Hermione's best friend. "What?"

"You need to assume the position." Harry conjured up a bar of soap, from where Hermione didn't know, but she braced herself against the one-way mirror as Harry approached Draco. "You need the practise."

Draco turned on his heel and crossed the room. He began to shake the still dazed police officer. Hermione really hoped they were only confunded and not Imperioused.

"Now, you listen here—"

"Intimidation, classic Draco," Pansy said.

Hermione snorted and flicked her on the arm. "Shut up."

"My girlfriend—"

"Fiancée," Theo corrected without looking up. He was measuring his cock alongside Neville's, which Hermione did a double take at the sight of before turning her eyes back on Draco.

"My fiancée, is the hottest, shottiest lawyer this side of Diagon Alley, and if you lot don't let us go I'm going to—to..."

"Sue," Blaise contributed.

Draco pointed his thumb over his shoulder to where he must have thought the italian was standing. "That. Sue. We're going to sue. For... for... holding us against our will—"

"Without our clothes."

"For taking our cowboy hats."

"No tea. Shabby hospitality."

"All of the above," Draco said, "if you don't let us go immediately."

"We should probably let them out of there," Daphne sighed, watching Theo and Neville very closely in Hermione's opinion.

"Uh huh," Pansy agreed, smirking at Daphne. "Wouldn't want to leave you wanton."

"What?" Daphne asked, still staring.

"Waiting," Pansy said, voice tinged with mirth as she pulled Daphne towards the door.

"Is that really true?" Ginny asked Hermione, barely able to speak she was laughing so hard. "Muggles really use soap in the showers to… you know?"

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek and with her best straight face said, "No." Ginny breathed a sigh of relief and continued towards the door; Hermione smirked, following her out of the room. "They do it in Azkaban too."

"Where are we?" Hermione shouted over the din.

A song, something she vaguely recognised as Achy Breaky Heart was blaring through the club and a quick glance around told Hermione that they had somehow ended up in… a line dancing club?

"The Cactus," Pansy called back. Hermione's face scrunched up in confusion as she clutched Draco tighter.

"I thought we were taking them home?"

Pansy turned to look at her over Harry's arm, which was slung over Pansy's bare shoulders since she had practically dragged her extremely drunk boyfriend—Hermione wasn't sure how they'd managed to imbibe so much alcohol in the few hours they'd been out—through London. They'd thankfully managed to find the boys clothes—cowboy hats, chaps, plastic toy guns, and even one whip which Pansy had been very happy to see—and get them dressed before they left the station.

"One drink won't hurt," she said, pushing through the crowd and leading their group towards the back wall where a long table was—miraculously—empty.

Hermione heaved Draco's arm off her shoulder and shoved him into the long leather seat lining the wall.

"You're so pretty," he slurred, dragging a fingertip down her arm when she dropped into the space beside him. Hermione snorted and lifted his hand into her own, linking their fingers beneath the table. Draco lay his head down on the table, and Hermione hummed, shuffling over as the rest of their friends piled into the booth.

"I want to take you home," Draco said, doing his best to whisper and doing it loudly in the process. "Break some furniture." Hermione heard a snigger from across the table and felt a blush rise up her cheeks. Draco pulled his hand from hers and began running his fingers up her thigh, oblivious to her discomfort.

"I hope you've good balance, because you'll be riding bareback all night."

More sniggers.

Draco ignored them.

"Your Daddy must be a good farmer because you're one fine heaux."

"Jesus, Malfoy," Harry said, spraying beer all over the table as he gasped. "Save some for the bedroom."

"You're the one that gave him that book of cowboy pick up lines," Hermione accused, leaning forwards and pointing a finger at Harry before lifting her own glass. She downed half of the wine, staring at Harry over the rim. "You're the one that thought it would be a brilliant idea," she sneered, slumping back into the booth and the crevice of Draco's arm, snagging the cowboy hat off his head so nobody could see how red her face was.

Harry stared at her in shock, and Pansy patted his head. Everyone else was laughing and chatting, oblivious to Hermione's upset.

"What time do they open?"

Hermione lifted her glass to her lips once more and cast Draco a look from the corner of her eye.

"What?"

"Your legs," he said and Hermione choked on her wine. "They're lovely. What time do they open?"

He was grinning at her, drunker than Hermione had ever seen him, one hand still caressing the inside of her thigh and he used the other to spin a toy gun around his index finger; he hadn't touched his whiskey chaser.

Someone—Ginny—wolf-whistled, and Hermione narrowed her eyes at her fiancé. Draining her drink and standing, she declared, "We're leaving."

"Because your legs are opening?" Pansy asked.

Hermione glared at her across the table and dragged Draco up. "I really dislike you."

Pansy smirked from where she was draped across Harry's lap. "I know."

"Where are you going?" someone shouted.

"Yeah," another called, "I want to go to the opening of Hermione's legs too."

"I hate all your friends," Hermione said quietly, stepping away from the table.

"Hold on." Draco turned and before Hermione could stop him, he said, "I'm sorry, lads. But Hermione needs more than eight seconds to get off. So you're all out of luck."

"What's she doing with you then?" Adrian shouted to uproarious applause. Draco started towards him, but Hermione pulled him back.

She leaned up on her tiptoes, hands wrapping around his neck as her fingers curled at his nape and said, "Let's just go home." She slid her hands down his chest, sliding her fingers through the gaps of his and did her best to stare coquettishly up at him. "I missed you."

"Fuck." He cast a look over his shoulder. "Bye, arseholes," he called and began to pull Hermione through the club and out onto the street.

Hermione didn't even notice them Apparating home, but suddenly Draco was pressing her onto their couch, hands sliding up her thighs and under her dress.

"Draco," Hermione said, laughing as she nudged him up. "Stop. I have to pee."

Draco nodded. "Okay." He dragged his teeth down the column of her throat, his hands slipping beneath the lace of her underwear, one cupping her cunt with his index finger snug between her wet slit. He leaned back on his haunches. "Okay."

Hermione grinned up at him, swinging her legs over the side of the sofa. Draco snagged her by the wrist, and Hermione smiled down at him. She cupped his chin in the palm of her hand, smiling softly when he turned his head and pressed a kiss to the middle of it—he'd sobered up a considerate amount in the time they'd left the club.

"I'll meet you in bed?"

Draco nodded, and Hermione stepped from the room. She heard Draco moving around the kitchen as she performed her ablutions and when she arrived in the bedroom, Draco was nowhere to be found.

"Draco?"

"I'm coming," he called, and Hermione lay back on the bed, waiting.

She scraped her nails along the inside of her thighs and hoped Draco wasn't so drunk he wouldn't be able to keep his word. Her hands slid higher, nails scraping over her nipples through the lace of her bralette; they tightened under her touch.

She heard footsteps making their way along the hallway and bit her lip in anticipation, then burst into laughter when Draco stepped into view.

He was wearing the chaps he'd so vehemently refused to don earlier that evening with nothing else. He'd added—from where Hermione wasn't sure—a pair of spurs to the back of his tailor-made cowboy boots. A tea towel turned bandana was strapped around his neck, and he was chewing on a matchstick. He lifted the hat she'd stolen earlier on in the evening, tipped it in her direction, and whilst rotating his hips—which caused his dick to swing in a wide circle—he shouted, "Yeehaw."

"Draco," Hermione managed through gasping breaths as she rocked with laughter atop their bed. He'd advanced to stand at the bottom of it and was watching his cock swing. "What are you doing? I thought you were sober?"

He lifted his head, grinning at her lasciviously as he looked her over and took the match, which Hermione quickly realised was a cocktail stick, from his mouth. "I am. But I'm still gonna unload my six shooter in you."

"Draco." She couldn't stop laughing; he'd pulled the same toy gun he'd been playing with at the Cactus from its holster and pointed it in her direction.

"What?" He kicked off his boots and climbed onto the bed, crawling towards her. Hermione couldn't take her eyes off his growing erection, rising as it was between the gap in his chaps. He tossed the plastic toy gun to the side. "Don't you want to take a ride?"

He pinned her beneath him, his hips slotting between her open thighs as he dropped kisses along the bare column of her throat. His teeth dragged, nipping the skin and marking her with tiny hickeys that Hermione knew he'd grow hard at the sight of over the next few days if she didn't disillusion them.

"I hate all of these puns and pick up lines so much," she said breathlessly. She dropped a hand between them and wrapped it—fingertips not quite meeting—around his cock. Draco's head dropped into the space between her neck and shoulder, his breath hot as he groaned.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, doing her best not to sound smug and twisting her hand the way she knew annoyed Draco to no end. "Don't you like it?"

"I should have taken that whip when we were getting dressed," he said instead, and Hermione's hand stilled as she looked up from where her hand was sliding over his cock.

"Pansy looked so thrilled when she saw it." Hermione shuddered, and Draco snorted.

"Which one of them—"

"Oh, Merlin. Please don't," Hermione pleaded, biting her lip.

"So you think Pansy too—"

She tightened her grip on his cock. "Don't."

"There's nothing wrong with a little wrangling and tangling," he protested, shifting his hips and sliding his cock through her hands. "Fuck. Come on, love. Don't be stingy."

"Stop talking about my best friend being whipped for orgasms."

Draco laughed and ducked his head. "You'd love to tie me down and whip me into shape." He caught her earlobe between his teeth and nipped. "You don't have to pretend otherwise."

"You do need a strong—" She worked her right hand up his length and slid her left between them to grasp his balls, "—hand."

Draco snorted and with one hand on her waist, turned them so Hermione rested on his lap. He vanished his chaps and tapped her thigh, "Up."

Lifting the hat from his head, he placed it atop hers. "There. Now you look like the perfect cowgirl." He grasped her by the hips, and using wandless and wordless magic, vanished her underwear. "Time to ride the buckaroo all night long."

Hermione snorted but tilted her hips and slid down his length, grasping both of Draco's hands and slipping her fingers through the spaces of his. "You did not—fuck—did not just refer to yourself as a buckaroo."

"Why not... Fuck, you are so hot and wet. Tight." He leaned up, snaking one hand around her waist and wrapping his fist in her hair, tilting her head down to meet her lips. "Fuck. I'm sure bulls are very virile creatures. Massive loads."

Hermione's laugh quickly morphed to a whimper. She rotated her hips as she kissed him. "I love you."

"Yeah. Fuck." He dropped one hand between them and pressed his thumb to her clit. "I love you too."

"You're going to make me come," she said, fingers grasping at his shoulders as she bounced in his lap.

"Good." He began to move his thumb in tiny circles. "Come on my cock like a good girl."

She met his stare; her thumb caught on his bottom lip, and he sucked it into his mouth before nipping the pad of it. "You're so fucking hot on my cock," he said, encouraging her. "Won't you come like a good girl?"

"Draco."

"You're so close." Leaning up he slid his tongue over a nipple and gently worried it between his teeth.

"Fuck." Draco grasped her arse with both hands and began to fuck up into her, and Hermione grasped the hat to her head so it didn't topple off. "Draco."

"There you go." His hips slowed as Hermione collapsed forward into his arms, tossing the hat off to the corner of their bedroom. "You're okay," Draco said, stroking his hands down her back reassuring her.

He tugged the bandana off then flicked the clasp of her teddy open; Hermione shrugged out of the garment, shuddering as he danced his fingers around her ribs and flicked his thumbs over her nipples. Sucking one into his mouth, he murmured around the puckered flesh, "Fuck. I love your tits."

He turned them gently so that Hermione was pressed beneath him, his cock still hard inside of her as he laved her breasts with his tongue.

"You didn't…." Hermione trailed off, sliding her hand between them to where Draco was still notched inside of her.

He shook his head and pulled off her nipple with a pop, grinning up at her. "No." He thrust up into her, and Hermione groaned. "You're not tired are you?" His grin morphed into a smirk. "I still owe you a wild ride."

"Oh god," Hermione laughed. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and crossed her feet, resting them at the small of his back. Pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, she murmured, "Please stop."

Draco snorted but nodded, pressing his lips to hers as he began to move. His hips snapped against Hermione's, her legs slipping from where they had been wrapped around his waist until Draco was holding them open, fucking into her with abandon.

Hermione's hands scrambled against his shoulders. "Draco."

"Merlin, you're so tight. Always so fucking tight." He punctuated each word with a thrust of his hips.

Hermione's clit throbbed, but as she moved her hand between them, eager to relieve the pressure, Draco slapped it away.

"No."

"Please," she begged. "Please, Draco."

"No. Not yet." He slipped from inside her, quickly turning her onto her knees and sliding his cock back into her. "Fuck." He leaned over her back, wrapping his hand into her hair and tugging until she was arched beneath him as he fucked into her.

His hips snapped harshly against her arse, balls slapping against her wet cunt with lewd noises while his other hand slipped around her waist and his fingertips slid over her clit.

"Now," he said, rubbing his fingertips quickly over her wet cunt. "Now you can come."

Hermione went limp in Draco's hold as her orgasm rushed through her. She was vaguely aware that Draco had collapsed behind her; his breath was hot against her sweat soaked back and goosebumps erupted over her body as she felt his cock twitch and empty inside of her. He pressed a chaste kiss to her skin, slipping from her gently, and as he cradled her in his grasp, he collapsed onto the mattress.

"You okay?"

Hermione tilted her head up. "I'm wonderful." She pressed her lips to Draco's, slipping her tongue into his mouth as she straddled his hips and relaxed into his touch. "How are you?"

He gripped her arse and moved his hips beneath her. "I'm great,'' he said, wiggling his eyebrows; Hermione snorted as she felt his cock twitch in appreciation.

"There's no way you have another round in you," she said, laughing as she rolled off of him and into his side. She trailed her hand down his sternum and dragged a fingertip over his still twitching cock. She dipped her thumb in the drops of come that had leaked onto his stomach and sucked it into her mouth. "At least not for a while," she said around the digit, looking up at him from beneath her lashes.

"If you keep doing that…" He trailed off pointedly, and Hermione snorted, lifting her hips and scrambling beneath the duvet.

She pressed her lips to his chest and said, "I'm tired." She looked up at him and laughed; he was yawning. "So are you."

"Yeah. It's hard work being a cowboy."

Hermione slapped her hand to his chest, laughing. "Merlin, please stop. I'm never going to forgive Harry for this theme. And I'm definitely not letting Pansy plan my Hen. Gods, can you even imagine?"

"What would cowgirls even wear?" Draco asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he considered it.

"Oh no," Hermione said, smirking to herself. "I'm sure she's thinking more along the lines of can-can dancers."

"Can-can dancers?" Draco asked. Hermione peeked up at him just in time to see his eyes widen. "Like those ones in Paris? At that Fancy windmill? The half naked ones?"

Hermione shrugged and turned her best innocent expression up to Draco's. "Maybe."