"Draco."
He looked up, rather grateful for the excuse to forget about the rest of the preparation he has to do for the meeting tomorrow with the Ministry Trade Commission, as Ginny slipped around the room to sit on the desk in front of him. She was dressed in one of his school shirts that had mysteriously managed to survive to the present day. It hung down to the middle of her thighs, and when she parted her legs slightly to let him step between them and twine his arms around her, he could see the barest hint of green knickers. He took a moment to think about how good she looked in his clothes, on the desk, in this house.
"My love?" He nuzzled her neck absently, and she shivered.
"Draco."
"Mmm."
She pushed him away from her for a moment. "Draco, this is serious." When he tried to move towards her again, she put a hand firmly in the middle of his chest and held him off. He sighed in resignation and gave her a look that said he was listening but clearly they could be doing more interesting things than talking, like wrinkling all the scrolls on his desk for tomorrow. She had her nose scrunched up as she usually did when she was thinking too hard, so he did try for a least a moment or two to regain control of his libido.
"What do you think of maternity robes?"
Draco blinked in surprise. "Hypothetically? Or as a wardrobe choice? Because I think you look better in this," and he leaned into her and pinned both her arms behind her back, gently scraping his teeth along the underside of her jaw, running his tongue down the firm line.
"I was thinking—mmm—as more of, um, a—a lifestyle choice," she finished breathlessly.
He froze. "Do you mean…?"
She looked nervous and hesitant all of a sudden, but her nod was all Ginny, decisive and challenging and only slightly vulnerable. "Are you, um…fine with this?"
He proceeded to show her exactly how fine he was on his desk. And then in their bedroom. And finally, somehow (the details were quite lost to him), on top of the dining room table.