"How are things...at home?" Hermione asks, her eyes trained on the corner of the picture frame she's toying with. It's turned away from her, but she's familiar enough with Rosanna's office to know. It's a picture of her and Draco, snogging at the burrow last Christmas; in their 'D' and 'R' knitted sweaters, Molly had made them years ago.

"Things are fine," Rosanna tells her. "You don't have to beat around the bush. Lucius showed his ass at Leo's wedding, and I haven't seen him since."

"He should at least apologize to you." Hermione scoffs, sitting up straight, in the leather chair. "Those things he said, calling the you irresponsible, and scolding you like a child-"

"He wasn't wrong," Ro sighs, "we should have had extra wards up. Especially with everything going on."

"For all we know those wards could have been down for days. In all fairness he lives on the lot too, he should have made sure." The wanker couldn't even be bothered to attend Leo's ceremony.

"I get it, you know; what he was saying. Leo is a prophecy baby, who broke over a hundred years of tradition, just by being born. I don't forget who I am, he was wrong about that. Rosanna McVay or Malfoy, promiscuous teen mother, odd one out of the golden trio. Whatever label people want to put on me; I try to be mindful of it. I have to be. But I'm a mother first, and I was trying to make the day perfect for Leo. That was my focus and it came back to bite me." Nothing new there, Rosanna thinks, somewhat bitterly.

Hermione nods, pursing her lips. "I used to wish it away when I was younger. Sometimes I still do, when Ron and I are out and some yells, 'where's Harry?' I used to dream about being 'normal.' But through all of that, I realized if I were normal; if we were. Who would've helped defeat Voldemort, who would've reformed blood status injustices or fought for house elf rights? Maybe someone else could have succeeded, or maybe it had to be us. Maybe the world would've been worse off, if we'd just been normal."

"I don't know." Rosanna sighs, with a tired grin. "I'm just glad that Nott was out in the open, and that Polaris and James were smart enough to go to Lucius for help."

"You didn't need his help, is what I'm saying. You do everything for your children, tirelessly day after day, and Draco too. A person would be mad to say otherwise." Hermione's cheeks are flush in her enthusiasm, as they often are when she rants. "And what else has been going on?"

Rosanna's fingers twitch nervously against her desk. "This isn't something I like to talk about..."

Hermione leans in, taking her hands. "It's alright, whatever it is."

"After Bellatrix died and her husband, Rudolfus, was sentenced to life in Azkaban. Their possessions, including their vault at Gringotts, was left to next of kin." Rosanna explains.

"Narcissa." Hermione nods in understanding.

"Right," Ro says, "so when Narcissa was facing time in Azkaban, she left it to her next of kin."

"Draco." Hermione is still following.

"But that was the same time Draco was on trial." Rosanna reminds her.

"So she left everything to Draco, and Draco left everything to you. Making you the sole owner of the Malfoy fortune and estates. Including the Lestrange vault, and any remnants of the Black family inheritance." A light bulb goes off behind Hermione's eyes.

Rosanna moves to withdraw her hands, but Hermione holds firm. "I took the money out."

"You're the one who sent Harry two millions galleons anonymously." The brightest witch of her age riddles out.

"I knew he'd never accept it from me, but as far as I'm concerned that money should have belonged to Sirius and Andromeda. Sirius would have wanted Harry to have his share. Teddy got his too, I halved it. Anyway it's the non monetary part that was left sitting in there. It never felt right to touch it. I didn't want to pawn it off on someone else. Six weeks ago, someone broke in, I think that's where the time turner came from." The strawberry blonde chews her bottom lip.

"How would Theodore get in your vault?" Hermione wonders, security measures at Gringotts have at least tripled since she, Ron, and Harry were able to sneak inside all those years ago.

"I don't know. It would have to be someone with clearance, and I mean blood clearance. Descendants of the owner, I had to leave something of mine in the vault for the enchantment to work. Since Bellatrix never had any children, it was the safest way to secure it." The matter of Rosanna owning the Malfoy/Lestrange vaults was a top secret ordeal. Only a handful of higher ups at the bank even know it's hers.

"Leo couldn't have gone in by accident?" Hermione wonders.

"You can't get in by accident Hermione, you have to give blood, like I just said." Rosanna narrows her brown eyes at her friend.

"I wasn't implying... I was just asking if maybe, when she was withdrawing money for her holiday, someone saw her at a vault that wasn't hers."

"That's all Henry's." Rosanna shakes her head. "No maj- muggle money," she corrects herself.

"I like your way better," Hermione remarks, referring to the American slang for muggle. "It sounds a bit nicer, and I really wasn't trying to insinuate that Leo would take anything. I was just saying if maybe she was in the vault, someone may have followed her."

"I know." Rosanna nods, "I get it, just being thorough."

"I love her like my own, I love all of them." Hermione pauses, looking over at the wall clock. "We're about ten minutes out from interrogation. Do you want me to sit with you, or just leave you to it?"

Rosanna likes to collect herself before a rigorous Legilimens session, normally Draco will sit with her quietly. Stroking her hair, brushing soft kisses to her face; she is quite literally a trembling mess in lieu of him. "I'm fine, thank you. I'll see you there."

The initial sweep of Theodore's apartment, proves it to be vacant. Draco and Harry can now begin a more thorough investigation. The grand foyer is nothing short of a shrine.

"Malfoy, if you need to step outside-" Harry begins to offer, his own stomach in knots.

"I'm fine." Draco bites out, taking in more of the room. Hundreds of newspaper clippings, pictures and writings pepper the walls.

"Draco..."

"I said I'm fine Potter," Malfoy steadies himself. "Don't even think about taking me off this case. I'll just go behind your back."

"Alright then," Harry knows he's not bluffing. "Take some pictures, then we'll pack it all up for evidence."

"I think it's best Rosanna doesn't see this." Draco says, aiming the lens of the camera at the right wall first.

"She's part of the internal investigation. I can't withhold information." Harry reminds him, jotting down something in his notes.

"This is her, Harry. Her life, all of it." The subject of the photos is Rosanna...and Leo. Locks of hair, replica's of their Holyhead jerseys, and markings like Draco has never seen. All over the dry wall, drawn in what appears to be blood.

"Looks like some kind of binding ceremony," Harry notes, his fingers ghosting the worn edges of Rosanna's most recent picture. It's profile, her smiling eyes turned away from the camera.

Harry remembers being on the receiving end of that exact smile, the previous week, over their shared lunch. Ginny had brought chicken salad sandwiches for the lot of them, Ro's favorite. How could they not have realized someone was watching?

"It's incomplete, he was still collecting." Harry turns away from the image, to continue his walk through.

"Collecting what?" Draco asks, still snapping stills for the case file.

"Parts of them."

The room down the hallway is even more haunting, a fully dressed, four poster bed. On top of which lay a pristine midnight blue gown, and what could almost be mistaken for a choker necklace.

Draco swallows harshly, flipping up the heart shaped pendant at the front. "Christ." He whispers, it's a collar; simply engraved 'Ro.'

"Probably what he was trying to bind her magic to." Harry can make since of it now. "Once it was on...she wouldn't be able to use it."

Draco runs his fingers along the cherry oak dresser table. Finding it fully stocked, with undergarments and negligees. Nott wanted her to live here, his wife.

"Take the pictures Draco, we should move on. There's another room... I think, maybe it's best if you just stay in the hall." The boy who lived doesn't even want to step inside.

"It's for Leo." Draco understands immediately.

The room is painted a pale pink, with white wooden letters on the far wall. L-E-O, spelled out above a four post canopy bed. Draped over the frilly bedding was a pastel pink dress, sized for a woman but built for a child. Two ribbons beside it, ballerina music box on the side table.

A framed painting stared back at them from the north wall. Theodore Nott was sitting in a gold trimmed chair, Rosanna at his left side, a brunette to his right; wearing the dress from the room. Her hair was wavy and dark, some of her features where recognizable, the ones that were from her mother, the rest of her face was altered. She was beautiful, inhumanly so, this was meant to be Leo.

However this was not Draco's daughter; she was Tom Riddle's. What Theodore imagined her true face to be.

"That's not her." Harry says, clearing his throat. "Let's finish up and get out of here."

"There's a reason people think you've carried the dark lord's child." Theodore muses, basking in the company of his interrogator. "It's a bit like telephone; did you ever play that as a child? Things tend to get mixed up as they go down the line. So let me tell you what the truth is, from someone close to the source. The dark lord did father a child. He spoke about it regularly, to those of us who weren't disgraced like the Malfoy scum. The child, was meant to reign at his side. A perfect prodigy, and he would hide it in plain sight. Right here," Nott presses a finger against Rosanna's lower belly.

"Don't touch me." Rosanna slaps it away.

"All this time you didn't know? Couldn't you feel it, all that power growing inside you. Didn't you wonder why he was so sweet on you?" Theodore cocked his head to the side. "Why he didn't come down on the Malfoy's with an iron fist, when you let Potter escape? The baby was his. His seed, the mixture of light and dark magic, more powerful than the world has ever known."

"I never slept with Voldemort," Rosanna scoffs, "kind of an important part of conception. So I'm not sure what he told you, or why, but he lied."

"Are you absolutely sure about that?" Theodore cocks his head to the side. "I've read your fairytale rubbish; you were under the imperius curse. So can you say, without a doubt, that an unfamiliar didn't enter your bed using polyjuice?"

"Draco would have noticed." Surely if some else had...been with her, he would've known.

"So you were never alone then, even for a few moments?" The man blinks up at her.

"Leo is Draco's, that's what I know." Rosanna looks down at her notes, preparing to move on to the next subject.

"Because she looks like him? You think the most powerful wizard of all time couldn't have charmed her to look however he pleased?" Theodore is sure Voldemort's magic would hold, even in death.

"Voldemort hid behind his followers," Rosanna turns her back to him. "He wasn't powerful, but he was smart, the Horcruxes were hard to find; even harder to destroy."

"And what is a child besides the ultimate Horcrux? To have a piece of you live on, a piece of your soul."

"Tell me about the time turner." Rosanna's done with the rambling. "So you take Leo back in time, show her to Voldemort. Then what?" She rests her lips against her steepled fingers.

"Then what?" He laughs. "Then he'd know Draco was unworthy and unable to keep you under his thumb. That the bastard was going to betray him. The dark lord would have his head."

"What would that do for you exactly?" She gets it, he hates Draco, but why?

"I, being the one to save him from his untimely demise, would be rewarded handsomely. Given the opportunity to guard his most prized possessions." Leo and Rosanna would've been his. Her power would have been his.

"Even if he was her father, and he thought I was working against him...he would've cut her out of me." Rosanna says cooly.

Draco is silent as he photographs the scene and starts gathering the evidence. There's no need for gloves, magic moves all the artifacts into proper bags.

"If it were Ginny and Lily-" Harry wants to keep Draco's mind occupied.

Draco cuts him off. "No offense Potter but I'm not in the mood for small talk."

"I was just going to say," the raven haired man breaks off, "you're handling this well. I don't think I could keep calm long enough to finish the job."

"You could and you would Harry," Draco pauses to look at his partner. "You'd do anything for your family."

"I'd do anything for yours." He reminds him.

"And I yours."

"Your mind tricks won't work on me." Notts is entertained by her attempts to penetrate his memories.

"I've been doing this a long time." Rosanna arches a brow at his cockiness. Surely, she just needs to focus, she's performed successful sessions on the world's most skilled occlumens.

"Go on then, it'll hurt you more than me." He chuckles.

"What makes you so sure?" Rosanna demands, her head aches, what is he doing to her?

"You've got a little," he motions to the underside of her nose.

Rosanna swipes her sleeve over the trickle of blood that escaped her nostril. Smearing some of the remains over her cupids bow.

Nott likes his lips perversely, he wants a taste.

"In your line of work surely you've heard of a magical conduit. They can choose you, willingly; that's the best way, truly." He regards her bitterly. "Or you can bind yourself to them; unwillingly. In short, your magic can't work against me. Because I control your magic, but have at it again." He taps his nose once more, she's still bleeding. A steady flow of droplets gather near her pretty lips. "Might want to have that checked out."

"The wand chooses the wizard. You have to win their loyalty, and even still, people aren't conduits." Rosanna says, steadying herself against the table between them.

"And you're not as well read as I thought you were." He grins widely.

A pained scream erupts from behind the closed door. Hermione is pacing in front of it nervously, looking down at her watch.

"How long's she been at it?" Draco demands, as he comes to a stop in front of Hermione. He needs to see Rosanna, to remind himself that she's here, she's safe. But instead, she's locked in the interrogation room, with the very man who wanted to take her away from him.

"Draco-" Hermione jolts upright.

"Everyone knows one hour is the limit. One hour and she's out of there!" Draco roars, he doesn't give a damn about Hermione's title. A few passers by stop to see what caused the outburst, before moving on, with their eyes on the floor.

"Keep your voice down," Hermione shushes him. "Rosanna asked me not to. You have to understand; we are so close."

"You remember what happened last time. Don't you care?"

"Of course I do, but this case-"

"I don't give a damn about the case," Draco cuts her off, "let me into that room."

"I can't do that." She blocks his path.

Another frustrated howl.

"She's going to hurt herself," Draco rakes a hand through his slightly disheveled hair. "She can channel through me. Take some of the strain off her mind."

"Draco, I'm sorry." Hermione truly is. "But you're just going to have to trust-"

Rosanna stumbles from the room, crimson spots staining her coral blouse. She presses her fingers together over her nostrils to settle it.

"Damn you," Draco snarls at his wife, whipping the handkerchief from his breast pocket. Despite his anger, Draco rushes to her aid. His hands gentle, cradling the back of her blonde head, as he holds the silken material firmly to her nose.

"Follow my finger." He demands.

Rosanna does so, without arguing.

"Who are you?" He asks, his thoughts falling back to a much darker time. When she didn't remember him. The time she pried so deeply into another person's mind, she lost her own.

"Rosanna Malfoy." She searches his icy blue gray eyes for some indication of how the search had gone.

"Who am I?" He relaxes marginally.

"Draco Malfoy." Her answers are simple, but necessary.

"How old are you?" Draco continues.

"Thrity-Eight." Rosanna's head throbs furiously.

"Do we have children?"

"Yes."

"How many?"

"Six."

"It appears you haven't ruined everything." He draws back from her abruptly. "Well done." Draco turns on his heels and leaves.

"Draco," she tries to follow, but her legs are still too shaky. "Please," she calls after him.

He pauses momentarily, his back still to her.

"Baby...I-" Rosanna breaks off to collect herself. "Draco, I'm sorry."

Then with a shake of his head, Draco continues down the corridor. Off to find Harry, Potter can collect whatever information Rosanna has acquired and close the case. Right now, he's so angry he can't see straight.

Hermione puts a hand on her friends shoulder. "Let's go sit in my office. We'll get you some coffee, water too, and talk."

Draco hasn't spent a night away from his beloved wife since his last mission took him abroad. He wants to see her, his drunken state amplifies his need. "I better get home," he slurs at Harry, who's been getting pissed with him since mid afternoon.

"You think you can make in the floo? I can go with you." The other man offers.

"As if you're any better off." Malfoy scoffs.

"Actually I've had one glass to your two, and I've taken a sobering draut."

"Rosanna's got you wrapped around your finger." Draco shakes his head, throwing back the rest of his glass.

"Don't be too hard on her, she loves you. Still not sure why, be she does." Harry remarks teasingly, "I promised to keep you safe, best I can."

"She has that ability you know, to bend people to her will." He wants to be angry, but he's not.

"Friends look out for each other."

"Have you finally admitted to being my friend, Potter?" Draco shakes his head to clear it.

"You're piss drunk." Harry laughs, "up you go."

Rosanna is flipping through one if the many books on conduit magic she and Hermione had acquired from the ministries archives. They'd each taken a stack full, hoping to divide and conquer as quickly as possible. To see if what Nott was spewing was bullshit, or not.

Rosanna had been able to penetrate his mind, but it was harder and longer than any interrogation she's ever performed or even witnessed. She hears the tinkling of piano keys from the lower level, rolling Corina off of her chest and onto her side. The little girl immediately stretched out, claiming the center of the bed as her own. Ro smiles, tucking her in softly before leaving the room. Door slightly cracked, incase she wakes up.

Draco hears her before he sees her, largely because he can't be bothered to look away from the keys in front of him.

"You been drinkin'?" Rosanna slides into the top of the grand piano, her legs criss cross in front of him.

"Perhaps I have." He slurs, "where's Corina? Do we have a stow away?" He tugs playfully at the cups of her soft yellow nightgown.

"No quite, she's upstairs." Rosanna nods toward the upstairs. "Right in the middle of the bed, spread eagle. It's like she has to keep the bed warm."

Draco grins, taking another swig of fire whiskey from the glass tumbler. Placing it back down beside Rosanna. "She's nothing if not thorough."

"I heard you, playing." Rosanna finishes the liquor for him and then summons another. "Melody's super depressing, maybe put it in a major key."

"What if it's meant to be a sad song?" Draco raises a brow.

"It's beautiful and sad, just like my husband, when I met him." Rosanna taps his noise.

"Are you implying that I'm no longer beautiful?" Draco cocks his head to the side.

"Still beautiful," Rosanna acquiesces, "but generally speaking, less sad."

Draco regards his wife for a moment, getting lost in her warm chocolate eyes. He wishes he could take up residence there. He watches the easy smile that graces her full lips.

"Come here," he hums, pulling her hips forward, to the edge of the piano. Finding the band of her knickers and sliding them down her legs. Flipping up the hem of her nightgown, to see her pussy as he spreads her wide. "Christ, you're perfect." Draco praises, softly. "All the more reason it's impossible to stay cross with you."

"What are you doing?" Rosanna asks, breathless in the wake of his sudden urgency.

"Just drawing a little inspiration from my muse." Draco smirks darkly.

"Oh, so the song's for me?" Her husband has composed a number of songs through out the years, many for her, others for their children. But none of them sounded so...

"In a way. It's about obsession," he kisses the inside of her right ankle. "To watch but never speak, to look but never touch, to know you and never feel your love. Very dark," his lips move higher. "Very dangerous," another open mouthed kiss, this time along the joint of her knee. "Heartbreaking."

"Theodore isn't in love with me." Rosanna sighs, reaching down to stroke Draco's face. "He wanted to use me." She doesn't tell him exactly how, that can wait until he's sober enough to understand.

"He's in love with the idea of you, that's even more maddening. To have dreams of a life with you. The power you could give him, the light inside of you- Drawn to it like a moth to a flame. You don't mean to, but you burn. Oh my love, you burn everything you touch."

"Draco, you're hurting me," Rosanna says, covering his hands with hers, as the nails sink into the flesh of her inner thighs, pinning them open against the piano top.

"Tell me to stop," he says in warning, his cast iron grip loosens slightly; enough to be bearable. "If you don't-"

"What? Tell me." She insists.

"If you don't, I'm going to do what other men wish they could. After the day I've had...I won't be gentle." He would never, ever hurt her, or use sex to punish her. But he would push her; to the place where pleasure met pain and keep her there.

Rosanna whispers, "it's ok."

Draco naws his bottom lip, he used to do this a lot. When he had first become an Auror, when the work seemed to follow him home without invitation. When that darkness would bleed into him and he would bury it in her. He hasn't in years, counseling had provided better coping mechanisms. But this was different, he couldn't compartmentalize work, because his wife and daughter had become the work; entwined dangerously so.

She tips his chin up, sitting up enough to reach him. His eyes flicker to hers, and then Rosanna kisses him. Deeply, tongue rolling against his, riling him to a fever pitch. "Don't stop baby," she sighs against his mouth.

"You are going to kill me," he half growls, his hand covers the expanse of her throat, forcing her back onto the piano lid.

She taps his temple, but his shield is up in full force.

"No," he tells her simply. "I love you," follows to take the sting out of his rejection.

"I know," it still hurts. Rosanna stares up at the ceiling, her fingers resting against the cool surface beneath her.

"Now you're angry with me." Draco purrs, his breath hot, against her center.

"I'm not." How can she be when he kisses her clit, just the way he knows she likes. Swirling the tip of his tongue in tight circles around the nub.

Rosanna sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, containing her groan of pleasure.

"Don't punish me." Draco scowls, "I want to hear you."

"You can't have everything you want. Isn't that right?" Maybe she was holding out on him.

"Be that way, we'll see who's laughing in the end." He works her up to the point of oblivion and then pulls her back. He's a prat, but he needs this.

"I want to cum." She says finally, frustrated and flushed as she glares down at him.

"No one's stopping you." Draco replies cruelly.

"Please Draco." Rosanna offers through gritted teeth.

He slips two finger into her heat, curling them against her g-spot. Now on a mission to take her over the edge. He doesn't stop when he does, not even when she starts pushing at his head. Making those lovely little distressed noises when he pulls her closer.

She never asks him to stop, so he keeps licking, sucking, and finger fucking her until her orgasms just seem to roll together.

He places one last appreciative kiss against her mound; before moving up to position himself between her legs. Shucking his pants and boxers onto the floor. His erection bobs against her belly.

"Are you crying because you're overwhelmed or because I've hurt you?" Draco asks, softly stroking sweaty hairs away from her face.

"I don't know, I can't think." Rosanna pants, spent and boneless.

"You don't know?" Draco chuckles, thumbing away tears, that have escaped her big brown eyes.

Rosanna can't seem to catch her breath, entire body trembling.

"Too much of a good thing will do that." Draco kisses her forehead.

"Fuck you." She releases his hair, so that it falls around them in a snowy white curtain.

"I'm trying to, but there's this pesky matter of consent, and must we always with the hair?" Draco chastises, gathering it over his shoulders, attempting to keep it out of his way.

"I'm yours," Rosanna murmurs, hotly into his mouth, "yours to please, yours to love; take care of me. And about the hair," she tacks on, "yes, we must."

"You know, people frown upon self preservation. But truly it's bravery they should be worried about. It's not a personality trait; it's a personality disorder." Draco rambles, burying his erection to the hilt in her swollen cunt.

"It's not a disorder." Rosanna argues, blunt nails raking over his back.

"It is when you think your only purpose is to serve the greater good. When your bravery leads you to believe that your life is meaningless and should be sacrificed at the first opportunity. You're not afraid of anything, I wish you were. I wish you weren't brave, I wish you were a slimey, cowardice, git like me. It would keep you safe." Each statement is punctuated by a rough thrust of his hips.

"You're not a coward Draco. You're drunk and angry, and I think sometimes arguing gets you off." But that was a topic to be discussed at a later date. "A coward wouldn't go against his families beliefs for a chance at a better life. A coward wouldn't stand between me and Voldemort. A coward wouldn't become an auror to help rebuild the magical world from the ground up. A coward wouldn't hold his head high and walk into a lions den of people who don't believe in him and change their minds." Rosanna never saw him as a coward.

Draco cups her cheek, mulling over her sentiment.

"And you're wrong, I am afraid of things." She turns her head into his palm, laying a kiss there. "I'm afraid of the people I love getting hurt. I'm afraid of losing my kids, I'm afraid of losing you."

"I'm right here," he breathes, capturing her pink lips once more. "I will protect you and our children, at any cost. You are so precious to me."

"Doesn't sound too self preserving." Ro accuses playfully.

Draco rains kisses over her neck and collar bone. "There is no me without you. Keeping you safe, is as self preserving as it gets." His movements are delicate now, reflecting his sentiments.

"You know," Mrs. Malfoy smirks, "I was promised a rough buggering."

Draco's shoulders shake with laughter, "buggering is up the arse, sweetheart. Now not to say I'm uninterested in the prospect, but when I take your arse I'd rather it pleasurable for the both of us. That way you might feel more inclined to let me do it again."

"Do you...really want to do that?" Ro blinks at him.

"I'm a man," he grins sheepishly, "of course I want to do that. Same as I've wondered what it might be like to drink from your breasts or a number of other taboo things."

"Why didn't you tell me?" She wonders.

"I dunno Rosanna, it's not proper for a man to make his wife privy to all of his depraved fantasies." Draco wouldn't even be confessing any of this without the aid of fire whiskey.

Corina has nursed longer than any of her other children; as such, Rosanna's breasts haven't received their usual attention from Draco's skilled mouth.

He'd peck a kiss or sneak an occasional love bite to her nipples, but that was all, because Rosanna has always been somewhat reserved about what was appropriate. But now, once Draco expresses a desire...she's willing to give it a go.

"Maybe we save the butt stuff for a special occasion." She suggests, tapping her fingers against his shoulder.

"Very well," he shakes his head, his cock still hard within her.

"But maybe- you could try," she flushes scarlet. "I'm not sure what it'll taste like but-"

"You taste like heaven everywhere." Draco hums appreciatively. Tugging down the cups of her nightie, they push her breasts higher. Flushed nipples straining for his attention. He's back to fucking her now; lowering his mouth to her left peak first. Swirling his tongue around the tight bud of flesh, suckling at it.

It feels good, so good. Rosanna relaxes into it, not caring if she's supposed to be embarrassed. It's Draco and everything is so good with him. A familiar tingling at the top of her breasts lets her know that milk is rushing out to greet him and she holds her breath.

Draco groans into her tits, so sweet, all his.

She cums, almost immediately; still hypersensitive from his earlier assault.

His eyes are on her, boring into her soul as he picks up pace, not giving her a chance to come down from her high.

Rosanna whimpers, "shit," shaking her head frantically. "Please wait, just-"

"Shh," Draco soothes, slowing his thrusts to a steady grind. "I'm almost there love, I want you to cum with me."

"I can't." She laughs through a sob.

"Just once more, for me." It's an obscene plea, he's been greedy and he knows it.

"That's not fair," she grumbles, unable to deny him anything.

"Life isn't fair, sweet girl." His face alight with mischief.

"Fine," she rolls her eyes, "let's do this, so I can go to sleep."

"That's the spirit," he grins from ear to ear. This time he drives her to the brink slow and steady, taking mercy on his overstimulated love. His mouth occupies hers, swallowing her cries and replacing them with his own.

"Give it to me Rosanna," Draco encourages, feeling her on the precipice, "give it all to me."

A scream rumbles out from deep in her chest as she milks his cock for all he's worth, arms and legs holding him flush to her.

Eventually he withdraws, straightening his clothing and slipping her knickers back into place. His seed still dripping from her, he holds his hand over her clothed entrance.

She smiles, so sweetly; and in that moment, time is still. There was the world and then there is Rosanna; safety, acceptance, warmth...love.

"I need you. That's why I get so angry." Draco begins to explain, he doesn't need to. She understands, she always does. "I don't want to control you. I am a prat, but not that way. I need you safe, I need you with me. Forever."

"Are you still that disgustingly in love with me after all this time?" Rosanna smiles, her eyes searching his. Her tone isn't patronizing, but genuinely curious.

"I suspect I'll always be disgustingly in love with you. Is that going to be an issue?" The man arches a brow.

"Not at all," Rosanna presses her lips to his forehead. "The feelings mutual, even if you did just try to kill me."

"Poor thing, glad you pulled through. Could you imagine the headlines? Rosanna Malfoy, aged thirty eight, shagged to death by husband's sizable cock."

Rosanna gives a deep belly laugh, feeling the soreness between her legs as she sits up, "I hate you." She shakes her head.