Champagne Witch
A HariPo oneshot
by mew-tsubaki
Note: The Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling, not to me. This pairing is a Mew and Mor's Weird Pairing, which you may find in the M&MWP forum (see my profile for details). Check out and join the forum FUN! Read, review, and enjoy! *Done for vitruvian8008 for the Weasley Fest for All Weasleys on AO3.*
- ^-^3
She tastes like the champagne that night last year, and it invigorates him.
Draco licks his lips before diving back for more, careful to have a hold of Dominique so no one gets hurt in the process. Dominique, he's learned, always clamps first, bucks second. Case in point: He works his magic for the umpteenth time that night (he's truly lost count—it's been an exciting night) and her shins collide with his shoulders and—
Dominque bucks, her back arched and her grip strangling the sheets. Draco barely has enough time to pull away as she shudders in pleasure.
He wipes his mouth and grins when she sighs. "Tired already? And here I feel young and spry, Weasley," he teases.
"Only because you have the snarky mouth of a teenager on you, Malfoy," Dominique retorts. But their banter is light, and her eyes find his beyond the haze of the room, and she reaches for him.
The reaching—that action is one that occurs more often nowadays, and it always throws Draco off-kilter a bit. Even if it's a means to pull him up flush against her, their chests grazing as they go another round, it ticks something in the back of his brain.
This.
This is different.
This isn't like last year. Because…
…because a year ago is now and calm and normal and uneventful. The last bit's perhaps a cruel thing to say at this, his only son's wedding, but Draco's never been one for weddings, and he and Scorpius have blown hot and cold throughout the Malfoy heir's life. Now that Scorpius is an adult and is marrying Rose Weasley, he and Draco are caught somewhere in the middle—lukewarm, Draco thinks. But it's a decent enough place to stand.
The wedding and reception are gorgeous, courtesy of Narcissa's touches despite Astoria's wishes to let her handle things. On the things that matter most (cake, dress, anything dearest to the couple), Hermione steps up to be Astoria's backbone because Molly Weasley's not up to fighting yet another Black sister and Draco's never been very good at saying "no" to his mother.
Sometimes Draco apologizes to Astoria, that he agreed to their arranged marriage. In love or not, she became his best friend after the war, and he agrees with her and Daphne that Astoria deserves better. When the wedding goes off without a hitch, he finds his wife at the reception to thank her for her work and, once more, to apologize for not standing up to Narcissa.
But, this time, here at Scorpius' wedding, Astoria returns his apology not with "I forgive you" or "I understand" but with glassy eyes and the hard clench of her jaw. Then she walks away.
It's not a catalyst, really. Draco sensed the staleness coming as their son aged. And he wonders if, now with Scorpius set in life, he and Astoria are going to have a change. He wonders if it'd be a kindness, if he got the ball rolling, himself.
He never wondered about the blonde with bronzed skin who came stag to the wedding until she walks up to him herself.
"Mr. Malfoy, congratulations," she says, raising her flute of champagne to punctuate her words.
Draco narrows his eyes. "…you're not from our side of the family, are you?"
She flips her hair back—platinum blond, brighter than Daphne's golden locks or Astoria's hazel hair—and taps her bare shoulder. "We don't all freckle the same way, but you can see mine a bit beside my dress strap here."
"Oh. A Weasley."
She snickers, and he averts his eyes, realizing how he must sound. "You really do live up to Aunt Ginny's stories…!"
"There are…a lot of you."
She snorts. "You're not wrong. And, someday, there will be even more of us." She rolls her eyes and sips her champagne as if she, too, can't fathom her family growing any larger. Then it finally hits her. "Oh, right. I'm Dominique, by the way. Same year as Rosie and Scor, but Hufflepuff. We were all prefects together, though."
Draco nods. He could care less about the details…but—he won't lie. It's hard to pull his eyes away from the judgmental way her eyes rove around the room while she gives her glass an irate little twirl. That's when he notices it's close to empty and, well, it's a party, isn't it? And both Astoria and Narcissa would chide him for not being a good host, so… "Well, Miss Dominique Weasley, it seems you could use a refill."
And her khaki-color eyes sparkle like gold, just as…
…they do now, with Draco hovering over her, his face near hers, their noses close, his mouth a mere centimeter away—
—and he sees it, that there is something else there, something besides lust in her eyes. It makes him wary and want to back away.
Dominique senses and feels the change in him. She blinks, and that something else is gone or buried, and she laughs and holds him tighter. "Don't literally back out now, Draco," she says, her voice loud, her tone a tad strained right before she laughs again. "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times: I like sharing our pleasure. I always do the necessary enchantments."
Her words ripple through him, no matter his control, and he shudders to a finish. He pouts, since Dominique got her way again, and Dominique tries to kiss that pout, though she only gets the corner of his mouth as he sits up and to the side so they may catch their breaths.
"I'll have some more, whenever you're ready," Dominique states, a lilt in her tone this time. She lightly smacks his rump for good measure.
Draco rolls his eyes but chuckles. He doesn't ask if she means sex or kiss and rarely does…
…and his mind wanders the more he and Dominique chat at the wedding reception. She sits so close, which is strange because most people know who he is and the things he's done and those who know and aren't family don't sit this close to him. And family? Family's different; his family keeps an extra eye on every single member.
"Honestly, I'm rather over this scene," Dominique announces, turning her head Draco's way. "Recommendation for disappearing from this joint?"
Draco blinks. "Oh. Ah, the back door, through the kitchen."
"Brilliant. Thanks, Draco."
He wonders at what point she began using his first name, but he supposes it isn't that strange with his son's generation, given the close ties and six-degrees-of-separation to everyone in his own class. Suddenly, he finds himself on his feet and escorting her from the room. "Please, let me show you the way."
Dominique's eyebrows rise, and he can feel that her gaze isn't the only one on them as they leave (is Astoria looking? Is he imagining a separate blond shadow Dominique left behind at the drink table?). But he ignores it all because he's got pretty Dominique's attention and that's enough for him. It's nice to meet someone else with similar criticisms of those around them.
The kitchen staff come and go quite obviously through a set of unremarkable white doors around the corner at the end of the hall. Draco gestures grandly, feeling rather small. "Yes, well, there you are. It's a straight path through the kitchen to outside, so…"
Dominique chuckles. "Needed some air, too, I suppose," she guesses.
He mulls it over, not even debating returning to the reception. "I suppose," he fibs. He gawks at her as she clamps a hand down on his arm for balance. "What the bloody hell are you—?!"
"Shucking these stupid things," Dominique replies, flinging her heels aside. "Mum wouldn't let me wear boots and Rose would've had a cow if the family photo didn't have all us witches in heels, so. Now I'm a free woman!"
"You aren't actually going to abandon those things there, are you?" he grouses before he realizes she's pulling him along past the kitchen door, to skulk about the rest of the empty corridor.
"Why not? I hate them, but someone else might love them—let it be someone's lucky shoe night."
Draco groans. Now he recalls why he hates getting involved with Weasleys…
Dominique cracks open the third door they come to on the right, peeks inside, and grins. Then she looks at Draco over her shoulder. Even without heels, they're nearly eye to eye, so he doesn't miss the glint in her eye. "So, tell me: Is the person who stumbles upon my gift in the hall the only one with luck tonight?"
He swallows the rest of his groan—especially as the sound in his throat changes, with the way her hand moves up his wrist to his arm…
…sort of like now, she's reaching again, but this time she's satisfied with just his arm, and it's a small victory that he doesn't shy away. It's always a victory when he doesn't pull away his left arm. But it was perhaps sixth months ago when he noticed he didn't mind Dominique touching the scar there, left behind from the removal of the taint of Him. …still, that's not the only thing her touch brings to mind, so Draco turns, brow knit together, and motions to her hand on his arm with his chin. "What does this mean, Dominique?"
"Mm?" Dominique sits up, not bothering to cover herself with sheets (she rarely does; "Sheets are for when you're cold," Dominique said last winter). She smiles but doesn't remove her hand. "Sorry. Does it bother you?"
It doesn't and she knows it doesn't, but it's kind of her to ask whether that's changed, so Draco shakes his head. He meets her eyes. "You're awfully…touchy-feely tonight."
As though hit with the Stunning Spell, Dominique stills. She withdraws her hand a moment later to draw up her long hair over one shoulder. "Hmm, am I? I wasn't aware; my bad."
"I didn't say—"
Dominique winks. "No, you're right. Besides, it's nearly time for me to go, so I should dress anyway."
Even before her words, that wink is a sign. Draco's reinforced their boundaries and—
—and they are breathless, which is quite the feat for two people who haven't shared a single breath in the time they've spent hiding out in the vacant room at the reception venue.
But Draco's got his hands in her dress and Dominique's got her hands in his hair and his dress cloak is somewhere on the floor and—well, it's a miracle they're still vertical at this point. He's busy nipping at any exposed flesh, and she keeps chasing after his mouth with hers, but they've all but kissed at this point.
"I-I'm sorry, I—" he splutters after turning his head away for the fourth time that evening.
"Oh! Oh, no, I'm so sorry," Dominique rushes. She rests her forehead against his. "AGH, I'm such an idiot. Look, I know I dragged you in here, but I quite like this, so I'd love to continue—but only if you want to."
He swallows the tiny lump of guilt that forms from…well, from not really having any guilt over the matter. "No, it's not that," Draco mumbles. "Just—no snogging."
She blinks at him.
"Nothing on the mouth. It's just…" Sweet Salazar, is there a non-embarrassing way to explain he's only ever kissed two women before?!
Dominique's hands slide from his hair to his cheeks to cup them. She smiles. "Hey. No judging here. I get it. We all have our things. If you don't mind being a bit rough with me or me with you, then I can honor your boundaries, too."
Draco furrows his brow. He knows it'd be a bad time to point out that his lack of tolerance for violence made him a shite Death Eater. But he also knows it's been a long time since he had both kindness and passion and held it in the form of another person. He tenderly brushes a lock of hair away from her eyes…and then he helps her out of her dress.
Dominique's unabashedly herself when in her own skin, or perhaps she's ignorant of the fact as she undoes the buttons on Draco's shirt and tugs it free before helping with his trousers. She gives him an appraising smirk when viewing him from the front and an appreciative little smack on his backside as they cast aside fabric.
"What?" Draco grouses, one eyebrow raised.
"Just thinking I landed myself quite the treat," Dominique replies. Then she kneels in front of him and playfully smacks his backside again, causing him to jerk in front of her. She laughs in utter delight before getting down to business.
Any further grouses die somewhere in the back of Draco's throat that night.
But tonight? No, not tonight—he doesn't want to leave things hanging here. He's got to—to speak up! "Dominique, wait."
"Why?" she pushes back. She checks the dainty gold watch on her wrist (so pointless; she says the graduation gift from her parents broke years ago, not long after she finished Hogwarts) and clicks her tongue as though the light around his bedroom window isn't telling enough. "As I said, it's time for me to go. You don't like me staying long. I don't like staying long."
"We both know we're full of it." He stops himself from adding, Can't be trusted with sticking to the initial rules we set ourselves.
But Dominique already has her undergarments on. She pulls her denims on next and pauses buttoning them to slip her rumpled blouse on first, half buttoning everything. She settles him with a dry look as she does.
Draco frowns. This isn't how he wants to remember tonight, to remember her—
—unbuttoning everything haphazardly, that's how he describes it, in his mind. Since their first night, at the reception, he's seen her a handful of times in the past two months, and he finds it both appalling and fascinating that Dominique is far less put-together than she seemed during their first meeting.
She's a witch who stomps around in boots (as promised) and wears her shirts partly undone and untucked like the lads. She stupidly tucks her wand into the back of her waistband—but perhaps that judgment's incorrect, given how fast she whips it on him when he attempts to prove a point and pluck it from her person. She's also not merely the suggestive, sly siren she came across that first night.
"I think it's time we change it up a little," Dominique declares. She sits on his lap in bed not long after arriving, and she has her arms around his neck. A mischievous little smirk curves her dark lips.
Draco pulls a face and glances down at their attire. "Oh, Merlin. Clothes on, then?"
"And ruin my favorite shirt? Hardly." She shakes her head. "I still haven't forgiven you for trying to snatch my wand, you know."
He pales. "That was last— I wasn't— It was to—" Draco huffs. "I wanted to make a point. I haven't used another's wand against them since the war. I haven't used any magic against anyone since the war!"
"Calm now, Draco," Dominique insists with a pat of his cheek. "Just strip, luv."
He grumps but does so anyway, rolling his eyes when he realizes half the task is impossible if Dominique stays put. But she laughs and gets out of the way to shed her clothes, as well, and then she beckons to him with a wave of her hand and a sultry smile. Of course he goes to her.
"Ah, ah, ah," Dominique scolds when he moves automatically towards her collarbone. "Turn for me, will you?"
"What for? I've got no wand hidden behind my back…"
Dominique snickers and waits for him to listen. When he does, a familiar palm greets his backside. "That's more like it."
"Hey! That's harder than usual!"
She caresses the tender spot and rests her chin on his shoulder from behind. "This is what I mean by being rough with me and a little rough with you, Draco. You've been good about it up until now, but tell me now if this doesn't work."
He shoots her a tiny glare. "No one's ever so much as rested a finger on me, Weasley," he growls.
She grins. "Happy to be your first, Malfoy." She blinks, slow and serious. "But, really, Draco. If you can't handle the pain, what about doling it out?"
Now he grimaces. What a cruel thing to ask of him. Whatever wasn't covered in the updated history texts surely must've been covered by Potter and the others, at least to Dominique's generation. "…that was a low blow," he mumbles.
Dominique jerks. "Oh! Oh, holy Helga, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Draco, I didn't mean— That came out— What I meant was—" She wraps her arms around his middle and kisses his shoulder. "Oh, fuck me. I just meant to ask if you'd rather spank me."
…he's just as embarrassed hearing the words. Judging by the heat of her cheek against his shoulder blade, she's embarrassed, but Draco would hazard a guess it's over the misunderstanding and not from her request. More than that, he—he can't believe he's considering it. Just this once, but still.
What kind of ridiculousness has gotten hold of him? (It's the Dominique Effect, he supposes.)
"I'll try," he says.
Dominique squeals in delight, squeezes his middle, and goes to the bed to lean on the post there. "Then I'll have whatever you're willing to give," she assures him with a wink.
Draco frowns. He's aces at giving others orders and was convincing at scaring some people back in the day. So this should be no difficulty. He draws back his arm and—
"Oh."
"I told you it hurt!" he points out, certain that was the same force she just used.
"No, I mean—you can go harder, Draco. Honest!" she adds after a beat. "Look, just watch." With no other warning, Dominique smacks herself, hard, just enough to straighten a little.
Draco winces, and yet his eyes are drawn right to the redness off her soft skin. Another whack, and the red deepens, pulling his attention in. He takes a step closer to her, reaching out to massage the spot as she did for him moments ago.
Dominique winces. "The sting's good," she insists.
He doesn't understand, doesn't know if he wants to—but he understands the desire to do things that go against the grain, to choose the unusual, to search for the things that make one feel. He shakes his head and chuckles to himself, pulled in both by Dominique's allure and the draw of the red. He rewards her by moving his hand somewhere better.
"OH!" Dominique says with a surprised jerk.
No wonder one night has turned into two months (and counting).
But Draco worries that a year was most certainly pushing it, despite his lovely, pushy witch sticking around all this time. Sometimes Dominique would come to him and oftentimes she would draw him from the vast loneliness of Malfoy Manor. It's not that he's used her to chase away his loneliness in this house. But… But…
(Is it so wrong, to admit aloud, that she brings out more of his old self, his real self, before a war and Dark magic ruined everything? He wonders how selfish that sounds. [Ah, selfish—just like Draco Malfoy.])
"You can't leave," Draco finally settles on.
Dominique snorts. "I am fully capable of exiting this abode on my own. And you know someone will come looking for me if I never show up anywhere else." She pauses and frowns, throwing a sorry look his way. Yeah, that was a straw too far.
But that's the least of his worries right now. "Dominique, don't. You have fun with me—"
"I can find fun elsewhere."
He narrows his eyes at her as she searches the floor for her purse. "Is that so?" he retorts. He doesn't buy her bullshit one bit. Especially the harder Dominique tries to avoid his eyes.
She hesitates. Then she says something that catches him unawares: "Sander came home from Bora Bora two days ago. All in one piece, same as his parents."
Fuck. Lysander Scamander. Dominique's blond shadow at the wedding. "Why bring him up now?" Draco rasps.
Dominique doesn't answer. She doesn't answer and she doesn't meet his eyes. She just shrugs.
Draco suppresses the growl in the back of his throat. Weasleys! Weasleys and Potters and Scamanders—
"—tell me," he says, interrupting his own train of thought as they venture outside for a proper date in the early autumn weather. How strange—he never imagined him and Dominique as more than bedfellows, but she's surprisingly easy to talk with and be around. Sharing coffee and treacle ice-cream with her is as easy as sharing sweat.
"Tell you what?" Dominique asks between bites of ice-cream (no, she doesn't lick it; she bites it—insane woman, honestly).
"I've seen you peeking around my bedroom door whenever you come over. Just ask what's on your mind."
"Ah. That." Dominique dabs at her mouth with her napkin and bashfully glances at Draco from across the small table they share outside the café. "Well…does Astoria know?"
It surprises him, that he's not shocked to hear Astoria's name out of her mouth. He considers the implication as well as Dominique's question. "Perhaps. I've not spoken with her since Scorpius' wedding, though, except over small household matters. I…don't want to hurt her more."
"I see."
Draco internally sighs. He debates the merits of confiding current events in his wife. He also sees the irony: There was a hubbub ages ago when his own parents split and Daphne caught Lucius' eye, but Daphne and his father are so natural and old news that there's no point in arguing anymore.
(Besides, Daphne and Lucius, Dominique and Draco are not.)
"What about you? Am I taking up your free time?" he teases with a smirk.
"Please do soak up all my free time," Dominique insists. Her nose wrinkles (how cute) when she pulls a face. "I've had an on-again/off-again thing with Lysander since…fifth? No, fourth year." She rolls her eyes. "He's sweet, like his mum, but he's so tame. So bloody boring, especially now that we're adults, if you ask me."
Draco scoffs. "So toss him."
Dominique raises her eyebrows. "There was a time when Sander and I thought we'd marry, you know."
He shrugs. "Unless you're betrothed and only your parents have a say in the matter, then only your opinion matters." He finishes his coffee and rolls his eyes when he catches her grinning at him. She does that a lot, four—no, five months in. "What?" he asks, snappish.
"Nothing," she says. Then she catches his eye and purposefully licks the ice-cream. "Today's day out has been nice, but I think I wouldn't mind spending tonight indoors…"
Draco knocks his (thankfully, empty) cup off the table and twists around, searching for the waiter. "Ch-Check!"
She said nothing to him then and she says nothing to him now, but Dominique's body language betrays her. She snatches up her purse, half hidden under the bed, and stands—but she's too rigid. She's not ready to leave. She's not ready to return to Scamander. She's not ready to return to a half-baked love with someone so tame despite his love of wild creatures.
(Wait, love? When did this become about love?)
Dominique walks over to Draco's side of the bed and pats his cheek (still she won't meet his eyes). She pecks his forehead. "You're right," she concedes. "I have a lot of fun with you. I've just—I need to figure out if that's all I have with you, Draco."
The voice in him that wants to cry out about their boundaries dies out as he jumps to his feet and tries to follow her. But he trips on the bedsheets and Dominique scurries downstairs and out of his life.
They truly are different. They aren't like last year. Even six months ago—
He sighs, sleep weighing his eyes. "I never imagined being so exhausted," he grouses into Dominique's hair.
She chuckles into his chest, placing a kiss there. "Find the right partner, you can get this good a night's rest any ol' time," she insists.
"Hold on—you're still a mess, luv," he mumbles. He runs his hand lazily up and down the thigh she still has slung across him.
"If I'm a mess, so are you." To make a point, Dominique grinds against him, waking his lower half just a bit.
"Oh, for crying—you've emptied me, you bloody badger. Let me rest a bit first!"
Dominique laughs and lightly smacks his chest for once. "All right, all right, old man! I concede…!"
He cracks open one eye. "'Old man'?" he snarls.
"Pfft. Don't be mad, Draco. Just rest while I snuggle. We'll both have our energy back in no time."
He tucks her head under his chin with a "hmph." "You better. I won't take it easy on you!"
"Ohh, is that a promise?"
He grumbles, but Draco calms in her arms. After some time, he becomes more alert. That's because he notices Dominique drawing lazy circles on his scarred inner forearm. He turns the arm ever so slightly so she knows he's awake.
"Shall I stop?"
"No," he answers, surprising himself. When she doesn't ask about it, he prompts her. "Surely, you're curious about the Mark?"
But Dominique shakes her head. "I know everything I need to know about you, from you. Anything I don't, I'll learn from you eventually."
The room is quiet and still. Draco's certain she can hear his heart beat.
Does she know the magic she cast on him, just now?
"…your fingers stopped moving," he points out.
"Oops," Dominique squeaks. She resumes the lazy circles on his arm, and it's the first time he's ever felt glad to have the scars.
But having and losing Dominique is its own unique scar, and Draco wonders what's wrong with them, that they let themselves get carried away, that they let themselves get involved.
(That they let things get this far.)
He thinks of visiting her—and doesn't. He doesn't know where she lives or if she's moved since they last met up a month ago, and he wouldn't know how to explain his presence if another person answered the door, Scamander or not.
He thinks of writing her—but the words never come. He never was especially good at writing letters, and Malfoy men are not known for wooing with words.
Draco also thinks that perhaps they had an expiration date and simply didn't know it. And perhaps this is his chance to put distance between himself and the (UGH, perish the thought) Weasley side of the family.
Then the invitation comes.
"How kind of Al," Astoria says as she and Draco eat together (despite everything, dinner with a friend is better than dinner alone). She passes the invite to Draco. "We're not even family and yet he wants us at his and Callie's wedding."
Draco cocks his head to one side. "Hasn't everyone become family, at this point? With Scorpius marrying Rose, we're extended family… And Pansy and Blaise are like family to us, so we'd be there for Calytrix, really."
"Hmm, I suppose." She takes the invite back to tuck under her plate. "I always thought it funny, that Al liked coming over here to spend time with Scor. Scor says it's because Al found the family entertaining, but." Astoria shrugs. A shrug really says it all: But look at us now.
Still, it's hard to put distance between himself and Weasleys as the days turn into weeks and the Potter–Zabini wedding closes in on them.
He could always make up a last-minute excuse to join Narcissa on her vacation in France…
(Three days away.)
He could send Astoria to represent them both and fake sick! Al's a good bloke; he'd understand.
(Two days.)
He could just. Not show up.
(Tomorrow.)
The wedding goes off without a hitch. There are a few near-explosions because Pansy's personality will forever clash with Ginny's, but Blaise and Potter are experts at taming their wives by now, leaving their children and guests to enjoy the festivities and ensuing reception.
Draco and Astoria make the expected rounds before Pansy yanks Astoria away to bemoan all the pre-wedding preparations that never happened because some Harpy canceled the "excessive displays of magic." Happy to have escaped Pansy's bitching, Draco wanders over to the drink table.
But Al and Calytrix didn't supply champagne at their wedding. They went with wine (Al's preference) and Madam Rosmerta's special-brewed firewhiskey (Calytrix's favorite).
His shoulders sag. The spirits don't matter anyway. Not only would they bring back unwanted memories, but the taste—nothing could taste like her.
"I'd say congratulations, but—last I knew—that's my cousin and…I thought I heard that Callie's godfather is whatshisname. Nott?"
Draco jumps and spins at the sound of Dominique's voice. He blinks. He opens his mouth. Nothing comes out.
Dominique musters a smile. "Want to talk somewhere a bit quieter?"
They head outside. This place isn't like the venue for Scorpius and Rose's wedding, with endless halls. No, this is an end-of-summer, under-a-tent outdoor wedding held at the Holyhead Harpies' pitch as a courtesy to Ginny. So "outside" truly is relative.
Dominique takes his hand and leads him up into the empty stands, hitching her dress and climbing over seats in her favorite dragon-hide boots. They sit and watch the lights from the reception far below them. "Equally gaudy as Rosie and Scor's wedding, I assure you," she jests.
Draco partly nods. "It's nice to see everyone happy, though," he mutters.
"Except you. You don't look particularly happy, Draco."
He faces her. It's the first time they've looked at each other properly in ages; perhaps it's easier in the glow of other people's happiness—after all, that's how they met. But he wants to explain that none of that matters, that the start doesn't matter, that others' expectations don't matter, that—that—
Dominique, his pushy, dominant Dominique, waits for him.
Draco cups the back of her head and kisses her. He will explain everything, in due time, but he realizes now that a kiss can say a lot…and he hopes Dominique can still read him so well after all this time. "I've missed you," he whispers.
"Fuck, I've missed you more," she says, her words a wet laugh against his lips as she returns for another. "The fun and the pain and the quiet times and the bickering—I've missed it all."
"Then stay, already," he orders.
"I think…"
…she leans over him, smiling as she pulls away from his kiss. Then she sits up straight. Dominique's a sight, atop him. She laughs in delight as Draco's hands tighten on her. "I think I'm quite glad I stayed," Dominique says. It's something she's taken to repeating every now and then in the weeks since they got back together, but it's something Draco hasn't tired of hearing yet and doubts he ever will.
He gives her what she craves. They move—she clamps, then bucks—and then Dominique collapses in a happy puddle against his chest. Draco nudges her chin up so he can kiss her, and truly it's best.
She tastes like that first night still, even after all this time.
- ^-^3
-w- Well! It's been a while since I wrote a Draco/next-gen ship, and my 1st Drominique even tho I'm familiar with Dractoire and in love with Louco, *LOL*. Since this fest fill also had the additional prompts of "infidelity" and "spanking," I did my best with the Explicit rating (muddied down to M for the eventual posting to FFN; original version stays on AO3 and tumblr c:). I confess that, while I'm aces writing infidelity in fics, spanking was a new one, so…I tried? X'D Alas, the older I get, the harder it is for me to write PWP, too. But I enjoyed how the story took on a mind of its own, with the Past and Present sort of talking to each other and keeping some of my usual headcanons going regarding the families and bkgd ships; not to mention this story's subtitle is most certainly "Two Weddings and an Affair," given that circle ending. ;P I just hope you enjoyed this, vitruvian8008! This was a lot of fun to write! :D
Thanks for reading, and please review! Available to reblog on my tumblr (camelliacats), too~
-mew-tsubaki :3c
