Hermione bit down on her forearm in an attempt to stifle her grunts and moans as Draco sent her over the edge.
His head was between her thighs, and his tongue flicked quickly right where she needed it. She thought she might naw off her whole arm, or at least leave teeth marks as she arched her back into him. That'd be fine. She would rather not wake up their child this way.
When he'd finished her, he rolled up to his haunches smugly and raised his eyebrows at her.
"What?" she asked breathlessly, feeling another bout of satiated laziness coming on, "are you looking for a performance review?"
He wrinkled his nose at her and slapped her thigh in jest.
"My daughter will be up soon," he said, making her chuckle, but she wouldn't tease him for being possessive. He liked saying things like that, "MY daughter," as if testing the words and forming them into habit.
It made sense after everything they had been through.
"Yes, I suppose you're right," Hermione sighed as she made to hoist herself up.
"No, you stay there," he said with a wink and he rolled off the bed.
"Gladly," Hermione breathed, collapsing back into the self sheets. She felt the slash of morning sun from the window on her face, warming her as she rested her eyes.
She must have dozed off, because the next thing she heard was the door opening. Two sets of silvery grey eyes met hers as Draco held a sleepy Lyra tightly, their cheeks touching.
The girl had a sour look.
Hermione's chest warmed at the sight, despite Lyra's obvious issue with being awake.
Plates of fresh fruit, pastries, clotted cream, and bacon zoomed in past him, arranging themselves on a tray at her lap, and Hermione ignored the coffee that dribbled from the side of an incoming cup as Draco caught it like a snitch with his free hand.
'What's all this?" Hermione asked, animatedly, hoping the tone would perk up the girl.
"It's Mother's Day," Lyra said flatly, as if she didn't understand why Hermione was pretending not to know.
"Oh, so it is," Hermione said, giving Draco an amused look.
Draco rolled his eyes, "Don't be a grump, Lyra," then he tossed her on the bed next to Hermione, and flopped down beside her.
Hermione trailed her eyes across his bare chest, watching the muscles of his abs ripple as he reached for a blueberry scone.
Draco handed the pastry to his child, who seemed to perk up at the offering, and put his arm around them both.
His fingers played with the loose curls draped around Hermione's shoulder.
Lyra's matching curls, yet the color of gold, sparkled in the morning light. Their own personal sunshine.
With a wave of Hermione's hand, the window was magic'd open to let the spring air in.
At this moment, all was well.
[This is a scene from a WIP I am working on, but I couldn't help but share for Mother's Day.]