A/N: Hi everyone. I apologize for posting later than promised. I had training this week and I only found out about it on Monday. Had to get up super early and go to the city every day. For a small-town girl like me, the city's traffic is something straight out of hell. Anyway…
This is it. The final chapter. I am so nervous about it and really hope you like it. The chapter is split into two parts–Draco's POV and Hermione's POV.
Thank you for taking this journey with me! Your comments, favourites and follows are appreciated very much.
Triggers: Referenced PTSD and explicit sexual content. I think that's about it.
Songs to listen to:
Jessie Ware – Champagne Kisses
Miley Cyrus – When I Look At You
Hedley – Pocket Full Of Dreams
Dashboard Confessional – Stolen
Jeremy Loops – Better Together
Kodaline – The One
Chapter 30 – Epilogue:
Two years later
19 June 2008:
DPOV
The thing about trauma was that while it sometimes left visible scars, the worst scars were usually hidden on the inside.
Trauma wove into bone, cells, neurons and soul, always there, no matter how much time passed.
It became a visceral part of a human being. So visceral, in fact, that it made a person shy away from any triggers. Any patterns or paths that resembled the ones taken leading up to the traumatic event.
And while therapy was the best way to address, overcome or help weather these traumas, it didn't always fix everything.
Some scars could never be erased.
While Draco had overcome a lot of trauma and erased many scars, a certain level of paranoia had refused to be silenced.
One example was the paralyzing fear he'd experienced after he'd had sex with Hermione because he'd been convinced that he wasn't allowed to be happy and that something would eventually tear them apart. But being presented with the options to walk away or take the risk had knocked some sense into him.
He'd always choose a life with her. Nothing but that would ever make him happy.
Another example of his PTSD was proposing to Hermione.
Therapy had gotten them to the point where they could trust each other again. Could love each other without reservation and plan a life together as husband and wife for a second time. But he couldn't bring himself to cave to Hermione's request that they marry on the same date as the first time. Nor could he stomach slipping the same engagement ring onto her finger as the one he'd proposed with at the end of their eighth year.
He firmly believed it would be asking for bad luck. Looking for heartbreak. Begging for history to repeat itself.
Not even Hermione's reassurances and pleas could sway him.
Naturally, when his mother had started weaving herself slowly but surely into Hermione's and his life after his father's death, Draco had been distrustful and fucking terrified to allow her anywhere near Hermione.
Had it not been for Hermione's patience and her overwhelming desire to help him mend his relationship with the only parent he had left, he'd be getting married today without a single parent in attendance.
It had all started with coffee dates a couple of months after his father's funeral.
While his mother and Hermione had been carefully optimistic about burying the hatchet and becoming actively involved in each other's lives, Draco had been nothing but hostile toward his mother.
He wanted to protect his second chance with Hermione in any way possible.
Eventually, hostile, uncomfortable coffee dates had progressed to include awkward dinners and later, birthday celebrations, Christmases and New Year's parties.
And when Draco proposed to Hermione on Christmas of 2007, it had been in front of his closest friends and his mother.
Hermione wanted to get married on 2 September again—a hard no from him. But in the end, she'd selflessly respected his boundaries and wishes and had agreed to a June wedding instead.
He'd gritted his teeth and grudgingly accepted it when, one morning, his mother had shown up at the door to Hermione's and his shared quarters at Hogwarts, ready to help them with the wedding plans.
Apparently, Hermione and his mother had been writing to each other regularly. And after the topic of their upcoming wedding had been brought up a few times in their letters, Hermione had thought it a good idea to include his mother.
Somehow, Hermione had gotten his mother to open up about her past during their regular coffee dates and wedding planning meet-ups. And while he'd known some of the details, the rest of his mother's story had shocked and horrified the hell out of him.
He'd never truly realized the extent of the damage his father had caused his mother. Or the ripple effects it caused.
It was hard not to look at her differently after that, and they were slowly trying to fix what his father had broken.
It helped to know that his mother has always loved him, even when she had to do it from the sidelines.
But it was only when his mother walked into the dressing room where he and his groomsmen were getting ready—her chin wobbling with suppressed tears as she straightened his tie—that he finally accepted she was truly going to let him be happy. That there wasn't some hidden agenda.
She was honest to Godric trying…
"You look so dashing, Draco," she sniffled and dragged her pinky fingers delicately under her eyes to remove any runny mascara. "Thank you for allowing me to be a part of today."
Draco looked over at Theo, who gave him a melancholy smile and an encouraging nod.
"I'm glad that you're here today, Mother. Thank you for your persistence when I'd almost given up hope of fixing our relationship."
She gave a watery laugh. "Persistence might be too mild of a word, but you deserve to have your parents fight for your happiness and well-being." She pursed her lips. "Unfortunately, your father and I failed you in that regard. It was high time I started making up for our mistakes."
Suddenly overwhelmed with emotion and unable to get a word out, Draco nodded and looked down at his feet, trying and failing to swallow the lump in his throat.
He shouldn't be craving his mother's validation like this anymore. Even if he understood her better now. He was a grown man, for Godric's sake. But he'd needed her support and affection for so long that he couldn't help but greedily palm in as much of it as possible.
"Now…" his mother said as she fiddled with his boutonniere and avoided his eye, trying to give him a moment to compose himself. "I have come to collect Potter. You boys should head downstairs for the ceremony. It's almost time."
xxx
Draco knew exactly what Hermione and his wedding ceremony would entail, right down to a t.
He'd helped his mother and her with the invitations—emerald green parchment with gold calligraphy.
He knew the colour schemes for the wedding and the number of chairs that needed to be set out for their guests.
He knew exactly how many roses and peonies there would be in each flower arrangement. Knew what material would be tied around the chairs, would cover the tables and how many candles would line the aisle.
He knew the names of the violinist, flautist, pianist and harpist. And that wasn't even including the food, the cake or the music for their reception.
But seeing it all come together was a whole different story.
They were getting married in the gardens of Auchen Castle, where they'd had their first date in 2005.
Things had looked pretty bleak for their future back then. So bleak that he'd been convinced they'd never get to where they were right now.
But the venue was perfect. It symbolized second chances.
A moss-covered stone path led down through a tunnel of arched white wisteria trees. The cascade of snowy flowers hung low enough that they almost brushed the top of Draco's head as he, Theo and Blaise walked through the sea of guests on either side of the aisle.
Under the arbour waited a very old Ministry officiant, his grey beard rivalling that of the late Albus Dumbledore.
Their wedding was much bigger than he, Hermione or his mother had anticipated in the beginning, but by the time they'd sat down together to compile a guest list, it had become clear that they'd underestimated how many people they wanted to be present for their wedding.
Their initial plan was to invite about fifty guests, but they ended up with a list of almost a hundred and fifty names.
Aside from their friends (the entire Weasley clan included), they'd invited their colleagues, a few family members that hadn't been in Voldemort's inner circle, and of course, quite a lot of students with whom they'd grown close over the last few years.
Aside from Draco's first Quidditch Championship team and the two that had succeeded the first, many of the prefects were also in attendance.
They'd even invited Turpin (with her fiancé, Terence Higgs), Patil and Slughorn.
Wellsley and her girlfriend beamed at him as he walked by, and Bailey, who had his arm wrapped around Malik, leaned over to give Draco a fist bump.
And while all these faces could easily have kicked Draco's nerves into overdrive, knowing that ninety percent of them were here because they genuinely cared for Hermione and him, made him feel confident and at peace.
"Ready, mate?" Theo asked when the three of them turned to face the guests.
"So ready," he said with a grin and puffed a nervous laugh.
His pulse was thundering in his chest and his knees felt like jelly. Not because he was afraid of marrying Hermione again, but because he couldn't wait to call her his wife. Because he wanted her to take his name like before, and because he wanted to keep her forever.
They'd wasted so much time being apart, and he was eager to start rebuilding their life together. Make it stronger than before.
Astoria was the first to come down the aisle as the wedding march started to play. Pansy was next, followed by a very pregnant Ginny. And then finally, finally, Hermione appeared on Potter's arm.
And oh sweet Circe…there went his wavering composure.
She was an absolute vision in an off-white gown with flowers in her hair as she floated toward him from under the thousands of white wisteria. The candles lining the aisle flickered in her wake and the sighs of every single female in attendance rose above the music.
The gravity of this moment, combined with the way she was looking at him right now had him wrapping a palm over his mouth and tipping his head back to blink away the sudden tears.
He swallowed once, and then again when he couldn't curb the tears. Because, even after more than two years together, all the wedding arrangements, all the I-love-you's and the obstacles they'd overcome, he couldn't believe this was actually happening.
She'd shown up today. Had decided to give him another chance. She was tying herself to him forever. Again. And he'd make damn sure this was the final time.
When he'd gotten a hold of himself and focused his eyes on his bride, she gave him a wobbly grin while Potter led her the last few feet toward him.
Aside from the tears on her cheeks and the bouquet of white peonies that were shaking in her hands, she was beaming at him.
That smile…gods…it was a blend of love, victory, and an apology for lost time. It was a declaration of unwavering trust and a promise for a beautiful future together.
He swallowed again when his throat burned and his eyes prickled, overwhelmed by how much pain they'd traversed to end up here today. They'd fought so hard for each other.
They'd gone for hundreds of therapy sessions—as a couple and as individuals—to get back to each other as stronger, whole individuals who were prepared to keep fighting until their dying breaths.
It hadn't been an easy road, nor had it been a short one, but thanks to their immutable love for each other and thanks to the support from their friends, they'd come out on the other side wiser and even more in love.
Draco wiped the tears that tracked stubbornly down his cheeks and cleared his throat, accepting the offered handkerchief from Pansy on his right.
He gave Hermione a wet laugh when their eyes met again, this time only a foot apart.
Potter kissed her on the cheek and whispered something in her ear that made her chin wobble. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and nodded, but her eyes never broke away from Draco's.
He briefly wondered what Potter had said to make her so emotional, but lately, it didn't take much to make her cry.
As petite as she was, at twelve weeks pregnant, Hermione hardly showed. No one else knew yet. They'd managed to keep it a secret up until now, afraid of becoming too excited too soon. Past trauma and scars and all that…
But even in her tight gown with its full skirt, their secret was safe. However, it was only a matter of time before she'd start showing in earnest. Draco could spot the slightest curve to her stomach, but only because he knew she was pregnant. There was no way anyone else would notice yet.
On top of all the wedding stress, nausea and fatigue had recently set in, and it had been a challenging few weeks for Hermione who had to keep up appearances.
But thanks to his mother and their friends, they'd managed to get everything on their to-do lists done without any drama.
Hermione falling pregnant hadn't exactly been an accident.
After a visit to the healer for a general check-up, they'd been told that it might be a good idea for Hermione to stop using the contraceptive potion sooner rather than later if they wanted to fall pregnant in the very near future (which was exactly their plan). According to the healer, the potion disrupted a witch's menstrual cycle and by extension, often delayed the process of conception by months, sometimes years. And after Hermione's miscarriage and the reason therefore, the healer reasoned that the sooner they stopped the potion, the sooner they could address any possible fertility issues.
Turned out there were zero fertility issues. A month after stopping the potion, they found out Hermione was pregnant.
As surprising as the news was, they were both elated.
"Hi," she whispered when she took his offered hand.
"Hi, yourself," he grinned, pulling her into his arms. "You look unbelievably beautiful, love."
"So do you," she whispered, her body trembling as they turned to face the officiant, standing shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand.
"You okay?" he asked in her ear as the officiant straightened his glasses and cleared his throat.
Hermione squeezed his hand. "Better than okay. You?"
"Never better, baby."
Hermione and he kept stealing glances at each other, kept trading secret smiles while the officiant droned on—a generic, well-practised speech about love, commitment and trust.
With her hand clutched in his and the other firmly gripping the piece of paper that he'd written his vows on—a piece of paper he didn't need because he already knew the words by heart—he willed the ancient, bearded wizard to just get on with it so he could promise himself to Hermione for what would absofuckinglutely be forever this time.
"Hermione," Draco started his vows when the officiant finally ended his long-winded speech. "I've loved you for the better part of a decade, and while more than half of our journey was spent apart or fighting our way back to each other, I wouldn't change a single thing. Because it means I get to be here with you today. On the cusp of forever, stronger, wiser and even more in love than before. But more importantly, I'm prepared to fight for you for the rest of my life, because being loved by you and loving you in return has been the best thing to ever happen to me."
Hermione's hand tightened in his and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth while she tried to suppress her tears.
He lifted her hand, pressed a kiss to the back and drew a rattling breath before continuing. "I promise to never let you walk away from me again without coming after you. I promise to fight for us when you can't. I promise to be the best husband, friend, listener and father that you could ever need. I will be your biggest supporter—"
"And the best sex of her life!" Blaise cut in, making every single person burst out in laughter. Even his mother.
"That too, yes," Draco smirked at Hermione's watery laugh. "But what I'm really trying to say is that I hope you realize you're stuck with me once you say I do, love. Because there's no way I'm ever letting you go again."
Hermione puffed a nervous breath and, without a piece of paper in sight, started her vows.
"Draco, you and everyone here today know that I've read more books than I could ever count in my endless pursuit of knowledge."
The guests chuckled because she was right. Everyone knew what a know-it-all bookworm she was.
"But in all of those pages, nothing has ever prepared me for what it would feel like to fall in love with my soulmate. Or what it would feel like to lose the love of my life. It never prepared me for that bone-deep devastation of knowing I walked away from the only man I've ever loved. How regret would haunt my soul every second of every day. It never prepared me for how hard it would be to fight for us, or how scary it would be not knowing if we'd even win that battle. Our journey has taught me so, so much. You taught me that things were often not how they appeared and you showed me how rewarding it was to take a deeper look. Not just with you, but with Theo, Pansy, Blaise and Astoria. I can't thank you enough for fighting with me through all of the pain, fear and regret to get to where we are today. Getting to know you and falling in love with you was the best thing I've ever done in my life. I look forward to loving you, arguing with you and making up with you for the rest of our lives together."
The hardest fucking thing for Draco had been the decision to prove to Hermione that he truly believed nothing could ever come between them again.
He would fight tooth and nail for her. Always.
Every.
Single.
Time.
But as mentioned, scars, trauma, and years without her in his life had left its mark.
And taking her first engagement ring out of his vault at Gringotts where he'd hidden it away in the furthest, darkest corner and then having a custom band of diamonds made to fit with it, had terrified the ever-loving shit out of him. Giving the Malfoy engagement ring back to his mother and making the conscious decision to put a ring on her finger that had led to the best and then eventually the absolute worst years of his life was excruciating.
But seeing her face when she realized what ring he was slipping onto her finger right now; breaking down the last barrier of trauma and fear between them was the best feeling in the world.
Hermione pressed her hands to her face to hide the tears from everyone, but the way her shoulders shook gave away how emotional this moment was for her. For both of them.
Only a handful of people in attendance understood the significance of the gesture.
Draco pulled her into his chest and pressed a kiss to her flowery hair to soothe her.
"Gods, I love you so much, Draco Malfoy," she hiccupped into his chest after a minute to compose herself. "You have absolutely no idea how much this means to me."
When the officiant cleared his throat to move them along, Blaise whispered, "You better not be trying to interrupt them, my friend." The warning was followed by what sounded suspiciously like cracking knuckles.
He'd laugh if this moment with Hermione wasn't so pivotal and tender. He'd just proved to her that he would never allow anything, not even his paranoia and trauma, to come between them.
xxx
You would think their reason for slipping away together just before the entrees were served would involve an indulgent, desperate quickie up against a vertical or horizontal surface somewhere. A newlywed (again) couple high on excitement, love and lust. And yet, you'd be wrong…
While Draco wanted nothing more than to indulge in his wife at some point tonight, right now they were in the antechamber of the reception hall where he was handing her a Vitamin vial and a potion to settle her stomach.
Shortly after making their entrance—after spending more than an hour taking photos—he'd noticed Hermione looking utterly exhausted and rather green around the gills.
Planning a wedding, spending the entire morning making sure every last detail was perfect and then getting ready for the wedding (without a nap) while growing a little witch or wizard inside of her body had tapped every ounce of her energy.
"Are you sure you don't want to go and lie down for a bit," he asked, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "I could make up an excuse."
"There is absolutely no way I'm leaving our wedding reception for a nap. I'll be right as rain after these," she pointedly lifted the vials he'd given her and downed them one after the other. "Besides," she said and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, "I've been looking forward to the food all day. I was too scared to have a proper meal in case I looked even more bloated in my dress and people started asking questions."
"Love…" he admonished gently and shook his head. "Who cares if people start asking questions? It won't be long before you start showing, anyway. And you need to eat so our baby can grow and so that you can have enough energy to function."
He rubbed Hermione's stomach, hardly a bump yet, and pulled her gently into his arms.
These days, he was always gentle. Since they'd found out she was pregnant, he'd taken extra care not to hurt her, or let her hurt herself.
"You need to take care of yourself and the baby. I don't ever want anything to happen to the two of you."
"I will, I promise," she said against his shoulder and sighed. "I guess I was just a little overwhelmed today."
He pressed a kiss to her crown. "Feeling better yet?"
"Much," she said and pulled out of their embrace. "I think I'm ready for some food now."
xxx
Draco and Hermione were outside with their friends, his mother and his aunt Andromeda, taking a break from all the mingling. He could see that his wife was starting to get tired again and hoped some fresh air would do her good.
With drinks in hand while Blaise, Theo and Potter puffed on cigars (he'd declined) they were all discussing Hermione's and his upcoming honeymoon to the Maldives.
Hermione was sipping on sparkling grape juice without anyone noticing that she wasn't drinking alcohol. He's been switching out her champagne for sparkling grape juice during the evening so they could avoid any questions.
They were planning to surprise everyone with the news of the pregnancy once they were back from their honeymoon.
But then Luna and Rolf Scamander breezed by to say a quick hello, and right before they walked off again, Luna said, "Congratulations on the pregnancy. You look radiant, Hermione. It suits you."
The ensuing silence was instantaneous, and every eye turned to Hermione—or more specifically, her stomach—before volleying back to Luna.
"She's not pregnant," Pansy scoffed. "She'd have told us if she were."
"Right," Ginny said defensively, and as an afterthought added, "Besides, she's been drinking champagne all evening."
"It's obviously sparkling grape juice," Luna countered, pointing at the glass in Hermione's hand. "Look at the colour. It's just a tad lighter than all of yours. Not to mention the way her hand slips to her stomach every so often. And Draco's been watching her like a hawk all evening, hovering protectively by her side."
Hermione's eyes met his, wide and questioning.
And then Ginny, Pansy and Theo dove for her champagne glass to have a taste.
Draco stepped in front of his wife before they could descend, afraid that they might hurt her. "Easy…" he warned.
Their friends paused, and Ginny's eyes widened with excitement. Pansy's mouth popped open in surprise and Theo grinned, delighted by the subtle confirmation.
"See," Luna said. "Protective."
"We were going to tell you soon," Hermione blushed and offered their friends an apologetic smile. "I swear."
"I'm going to be a grandmother?" Narcissa asked with misty-eyed awe.
"Yes, Mother. In about six months."
And then all hell broke loose.
Questions were fired at the two of them in rapid succession. Careful hugs were given, and glasses were clinked in cheers and congratulations. On the sidelines, with Aunt Andromeda's arm around her shoulder, his mother was wiping her eyes and grinning like a loon. It was the strangest thing to witness.
It was just one more worry falling away to know that his mother genuinely wanted to see him build a life and a family with Hermione.
After answering a bunch of questions and explaining that no, it wasn't technically an accident but that they hadn't expected it to happen so soon, they told their friends and family what the healer had said.
Eventually, when Hermione looked like she was feeling better, they headed back inside to mingle with their guests.
They cut what his mother and Hermione referred to as a 'naked' cake with white and green icing and silver embellishments. They danced together—mostly to slow songs.
Hermione wasn't quite up for spinning around on the dance floor in her condition…on a full stomach.
At just after one o'clock in the morning, he'd put his foot down and whisked Hermione away from their guests and up to their room for the night.
They were leaving for the Maldives tomorrow and had to get up early.
Draco planned to help his wife out of her dress and let her get a few hours of shut-eye. Sex could wait. They had three weeks of uninterrupted bliss ahead of them and he was planning to keep her in bed for long stretches at a time.
She, however, had other ideas and would not take no for an answer.
She'd barely given him time to get the skirts of her dress pushed out of the way before she had his trousers open and his cock in her hand, pleading with him to fuck her.
Up to their ears in tulle and silk, Draco and Hermione made love while fully dressed.
She was tight and hot and wet when he tugged her knickers to the side and pushed inside of her. And oh gods, she was so eager and horny, bucking her hips and pleading with him to go harder, faster, that he had to clench his teeth to restrain himself; to take it slow.
She'd been insatiable lately and claimed that the hormones were responsible, but he was more than willing to meet her needs as many times as she wanted him to. Just with more care than usual; he was so scared of hurting her or the baby.
They fell asleep after three in the morning, utterly exhausted. He had Hermione tucked tightly against his chest, palm splayed protectively over her stomach while they spooned.
They'd taken their time with each other after he'd helped her escape her wedding dress.
He'd sucked on her sensitive nipples and traced every single freckle and beauty spot on her skin with his tongue. Had her begging for him to move at times when all he wanted was to hold still while buried deep inside of her to savour the feeling of her around him.
He'd marked her skin with bruises. Made her come all over his tongue. Had her crying his name when he bucked his hips just so to hit her g-spot with slow strokes—not enough to make her come, but enough to drive her to the very edge, over and over again—until she was shaking in his arms.
At one point, she'd wrapped her lips around his cock to tease him until he was delirious and cursing up at the ceiling. Swallowed every drop of his cum when he exploded down her throat. Sucked on his jaw, tightened her legs around him and dug her nails into his back when he pushed her over the edge.
And when she could no longer keep her eyes open but was still too stubborn to agree to sleep, he'd promised her that he'd make her come again as soon as the sun came up. And as much as she wanted for the rest of their lives. "But you need to get some sleep so you can enjoy what I have planned for our honeymoon."
Fifteen years and some months later
December 2023:
HPOV
Hermione could hear cheering and laughter coming from somewhere outside—probably the backyard—when she apparated onto the front porch of the house.
The lake lapped quietly against the shore and the icy wind whispered through the trees that surrounded their house.
It didn't snow as often here in Portland as it did in Scotland, but rain was a frequent occurrence.
The seven pairs of boots that were arranged from big to small and lined the porch next to the front door, was proof of that.
This was, and would always be Hermione's one true happy place. Even more so than Hogwarts.
She could smell the familiar burst of cinnamon the minute she walked into the comforting warmth of the house, and called out, "I'm home!"
She shrugged off her coat and hung it on the coat tree when the loud yapping of two Crups and the subsequent tapping of paws on the hardwood floors followed.
"In the kitchen, darling!" her mother-in-law called just as the Crups appeared around the corner, skidding across the floor in their haste to greet Hermione.
"Hello my babies," she cooed when they bounded toward her, wagging their forked tails with excitement. "Mama's home."
She crouched down when Virginia Woof whined for attention, spinning around and around in circles while Bark Twain belched loudly and rolled onto his back to beg for a belly scratch.
"I missed you two," she said and scratched them lovingly.
They followed her to the kitchen at a slower pace, and when Narcissa toed their shiny bowls out of the way to hide the evidence of the treats she'd given them, Hermione good-naturedly rolled her eyes.
"I see someone's been spoiling you rotten while mommy wasn't here," she said to the Crups and put her suitcase down at her feet before raising a brow at her mother-in-law.
Narcissa shrugged, pulled on a pair of lime-green oven mittens and turned away to take a large batch of cinnamon buns out of the oven. "You try saying no to them when they flash you those sad, pathetic little puppy dog eyes," she told Hermione and set the tray down on the marble counter.
Narcissa pulled off her mittens and untied her apron, set it down beside the tray, and then she rounded the marble island to greet Hermione with a kiss on the cheek. "Welcome back, darling. How was your trip?"
She returned Narcissa's greeting and set her handbag down on one of the stools at the island. "Everything went well, and while the stay was comfortable, I missed all of you terribly."
Their casual displays of affection had not been an instantaneous thing after she and her mother-in-law had made amends. But their tolerance for each other and their love for Draco had grown into mutual respect, and eventually evolved into a relationship as easy and natural as breathing over the years. And now, without any doubt in her mind, Hermione could say that she loved and adored Narcissa very much. It was a turn of events that she never could have predicted.
"Where is everyone?" she asked, but she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.
Narcissa rolled her eyes but smiled fondly nonetheless. "Up in the air in the backyard playing Quidditch, of course. I swear they pay no mind to the freezing temperatures. But I put my foot down when they mentioned taking Carina outside with them."
"Thank you," she grimaced. "The last thing I want is for her to catch a cold after Caelum's bout of stomach flu two weeks ago. Where is she, by the way?"
"I gave her a bottle and put her down for a nap about fifteen minutes ago. She's been fussy all day, but I think her gums are itching because she keeps chewing on her dummy."
"Oh, poor thing," Hermione pouted and her heart gave a painful squeeze.
Six-month-old Carina, Draco's and her youngest—or more accurately, their late lamb—had just gotten her first tooth right before Hermione left for the curse-breaking symposium where she'd given a talk on rare blood curses.
Just as she was about to head upstairs to Carina's nursery, Draco walked inside, followed by Harry, Theo and a whole slew of kids.
Four of these children belonged to Draco and her, and with little Carina upstairs, they had five altogether. The other three belonged to Harry and Theo. Two identical fourteen-year-old girls and their younger, seven-year-old brother.
Lyra was Draco's and her firstborn. She was petite like Hermione, but that's where the similarities ended.
With long, golden blonde hair and eyes the colour of a glacier, she was the spitting image of Narcissa.
She was a beautiful little swot who happened to like sports, too. But she couldn't be bothered with things like dressing up to attract boys when there was Quidditch to play and so many books calling her name at the same time.
Lyra, like Hermione, loved to read. Like her grandmother, she enjoyed gardening, and like Draco, excelled in Quidditch. She played chaser for the Slytherin house team and had just turned fifteen at the beginning of December. But, according to Lyra, she had no intention of pursuing a career in Quidditch after school. Draco was still holding out hope that his daughter would change her mind over the next two years before she graduated.
While Draco was complacent about Lyra's disinterest in romance for the time being, Hermione knew the time would come when their daughter would start showing interest in boys. Or girls. Who could tell at this point? And then, Draco's protective side would rear its ugly head.
Scorpius was the carbon copy of Draco at age fourteen and also played Quidditch for Slytherin. He and Lyra had an age gap of eleven months between them, a lesson to Draco and Hermione that breastfeeding certainly did not count as a safe form of contraception.
As soon as Hermione had been given the all-clear six weeks after Lyra's birth, she and Draco had gorged themselves on each other with headboard-banging, toe-curling, back-breaking sex that made them feel like teenagers all over again. And so, a few weeks later, they'd discovered that Hermione was expecting again.
While Scorpius was extremely attractive, like his father, and was very much aware of it, Draco and she had taught him to respect women as well as the act of sex, hoping he wouldn't follow in Draco's footsteps by jumping into bed with as many girls as his heart desired.
After the surprise that was Scorpius, Draco and she had been very mindful of using the contraceptive charm, and thus, Orion and Caelum had been very well-planned arrivals.
Orion, who'd turned eleven in March, had started his first year at Hogwarts earlier in September this year, and Caelum, two years his junior, was practically marking down the days on his calendar until he could join his sister and his brothers at school.
While none, NONE of Hermione's children took after her in the looks department—all favouring the Malfoys with varying shades of blond hair and blue eyes—Orion had at least inherited her nose and eye shape. But that was the extent of it.
She'd basically spent close to half a decade growing her beautiful babies in her belly, only for them to come out looking like their father.
Carina had been her last hope for brown hair and honey eyes. Alas, at six months old, she sported a thick tuft of platinum hair and grey eyes exactly like her father's. And while
Lyra was reserved and bookish, Hermione had a feeling little Carina would be giving Draco all his days once puberty hit. Maybe even before that.
You might be wondering why on earth Draco and she had thought it a good idea to have another baby when she had already been forty-three at the time of Carina's conception. The answer was simple: they hadn't planned for a fifth child.
As if they hadn't already learned their lesson…
For Hermione's forty-third birthday, their group of friends had gone on a week-long trip to Spain while Narcissa had offered to stay behind to look after Orion and Caelum.
Having an entire child-free week together for the first time in years, coupled with lots of day drinking (sangria, of course) and hot tubs, had led to lots of sex and very little consideration for contraception. And tada! Carina had been conceived in Spain. Probably in a hot tub. Or a pool. Who could say, really? The details were a little fuzzy.
But they were very much content with five kids, and it was nice having a baby in the house who didn't groan and complain (read: Lyra and Scorpius) when Hermione showered them with hugs and kisses.
Her four children pushed their way past Draco and over to her to greet her with long hugs—a rare occurrence these days, saved for when they've been apart for a while. Teenagers…
She pressed kisses against as many cheeks as she could manage, and wrapped them all up in a group hug, breathing a sigh of relief. This was the best feeling in the world—getting to hold her children close and drawing in their familiar scents. It was cathartic somehow, and having them go off to Hogwarts for long periods at a time left her with a constant emptiness in her heart and her home.
When the kids simultaneously started telling her about their week without her, about how Daddy, Uncle Theo and Uncle Harry had taken them tobogganing at Multorpor Sno-park a couple of days ago, how Grandma had let them help her bake and decorate Christmas cookies, and how Carina had vomited all over Uncle Harry yesterday, right after she'd finished her bottle of milk, Hermione grinned and lifted her eyes over their heads to meet Draco's.
And, oh boy, he looked handsome with his windblown hair, bright grey eyes and the week-old scruff that lined his face. Yum!
At forty-three now, Draco looked better than ever. He was still unfairly beautiful, muscled and fuckable as sin with all of his tattoos and that ever-present Malfoy smirk. But his eyes had a softer edge that had taken up permanent residence since Lyra's birth. The moment he'd held their daughter for the first time it altered him irrevocably.
It was plain as day to everyone close to Draco that he was truly happy. That he was content and at peace with this life that he and Hermione had built together. And nothing made her happier than experiencing this side of Draco.
Narcissa had moved in with them permanently right after Scorpius had been born.
Hermione had been planning to do a two-year advanced curse-breaking programme at the time, while Draco was getting his second apothecary up and running in Portland after opening a very successful one in London the year before.
Narcissa had almost begged them to let her help out with the kids, and honest-to-Godric, it's been the best decision they'd made when they'd built a cottage for her off to the side of their house.
After Orion's arrival, knowing that they still wanted another child, they had expanded their house quite a bit. And what a blessing that had been, because with five kids now, and friends who often came for extended visits, their own kids in tow, their house was often bursting at the seams. Just as it would be from this evening when the rest of their friends arrived for the week of Christmas and New Year's.
"All right, my darlings," Narcissa called out to the kids. "Why don't we give your mum and dad a chance to say hello to each other? The cinnamon buns are ready and I know you're all probably starving after an entire day on your brooms."
Harry and Theo joined the kids, knowing if they didn't help themselves right now, there would soon be nothing left of the cinnamon buns.
Hermione mouthed a "thank you" to Narcissa over her shoulder, but before she could say a word to Draco, he had a hand on her cheek and another on the back of her neck to pull her in for a very proper hello kiss.
They broke their kiss when Lyra called out "Gross, you guys," and pretended to gag.
"Get a room," Scorpius joined in, pulling a face at them.
"Did we raise these cheeky kids?" Draco asked with mock indignation, and then playfully stuck his tongue out at their oldest two.
Hermione grinned at him, her pulse beating a steady rhythm of desire behind her breastbone while watching him interact with their children. There was nothing sexier than Daddy Draco. "I think we're allowed to attribute half of their cheekiness to your mother," she murmured.
"I heard that!" Narcissa said and narrowed her eyes mockingly at Draco and her.
"Fine," Draco said and gripped Hermione firmly by the hips, throwing her over his shoulder. He ignored her yelp of surprise and turned to his mother and the kids. "We'll be upstairs if you need us. I'm sure Hermione wants to check in on Carina before she unpacks."
"Mmhmm, sure," his mother said with a skeptical brow raise.
They did check in on Carina on the way to their bedroom, but their youngest was fast asleep. Her dummy squeaked every few seconds when she gave a couple of soft pulls and then let the dummy slip ever so slightly from between her lax little rosy lips.
Draco wasted no time undressing Hermione as soon as their bedroom door shut and locked behind them with a quiet click.
And after a hasty contraceptive- and- silencing charm, he dragged her under the hot spray of the shower.
"Merlin, I missed you, babe," he whispered against her lips and sucked her bottom lip between his. A tug of his teeth on her lip had her moaning and arching into his body, suddenly overwhelmed with desire for her husband.
Her hand slipped down his torso, enjoying every dip and swell of muscle on the way to her target, and when she reached his cock, he was harder than steel for her.
His hips jerked when she wrapped her palm around his shaft, and when she gave a testing pump, he steadied himself with a hand against the shower wall, right beside her head.
Another pump and he said, "Look, baby. I'm going to be really blunt with you. It's been an entire week without you and I'm going to come in the next ten to fifteen seconds if you keep this up."
His words inspired a mix of pride, victory and satisfaction in her.
"You didn't take care of it yourself while I was gone?" she asked, giving his cock another firm pump.
His knees buckled and his eyes squeezed shut.
"No," he panted in a rough, breathy voice. "The kids tired me out this week, and Carina hasn't been sleeping well."
"Oh, my poor husband," she pouted playfully. "Then let your wife take care of you, hmm?"
Before he could respond, Hermione dropped to her knees, whispered a cushioning charm and sucked the crown of his cock into her mouth.
"Hooo—ly shit!" he cried and fisted a hand in her hair, the other still braced against the tiles.
She wrapped her hands around his thighs and tipped her head back to let him know he could take over and fuck her mouth just the way he liked.
His hand slipped away from the tiles to join the other in her hair, and his grey eyes were swirling with so much desire that it made her clit throb painfully between her legs.
"This is going to be quick, love," he grunted as he thrust his hips forward to hit the back of her throat.
Draco wasn't kidding…
It took only six bucks of his hips before he groaned her name and spilt his cum with choppy thrusts down her throat.
She swallowed the thick, hot ropes of cum until she could feel the way his hands relaxed in her hair and how his legs trembled under her palms.
She was still licking his spend from her lips when he roughly pulled her onto her feet, pushed her up against the tiles and crouched down in front of her.
He hooked one of her legs over his shoulder and then his mouth was on her pussy, dragging his tongue through her slick slit.
"Draco…oh my gods! Yes!" she cried out when his tongue plunged into her cunt, fucking her with a hunger that had fire weaving through her belly.
His fingers took over, thrusting deep into her cunt while his hot tongue found her clit, flicking and circling with the perfect pressure that had her fingers curling in his hair. "Fuck, baby, don't stop! Right there!"
If she'd thought Draco had been good at getting her off like this when they'd been younger, it was nothing compared to an older Draco with years of experience with her. He'd learned every single spot on her body and how to manipulate it in a way that made her body sing with pleasure and made every single cell and neuron explode with ecstasy.
Another curl of his fingers and a swirl of his tongue had her back arching and her hips pressing closer to his face.
And thank Merlin for silencing charms, because the volume and the kinds of words that were slipping from her mouth were not meant for anyone's ears, let alone little ears.
Barely washed and dried, Draco hauled her onto the bed and helped her to her knees on the mattress. His body curled over hers, his chest pressed firmly against her back, and then he ordered in a no-nonsense growl, "Grip the headboard, baby. You're going to need it."
Fingers curled over the headboard, she looked over her shoulder to watch Draco. He was on his knees behind her with his thick cock gripped in a tight fist while the other reached out to smooth over her arse cheeks.
But his eyes were focused like laser sights between her legs.
"Face forward," he ordered without looking away. But she knew he always rewarded good behaviour in the bedroom.
When she complied, he murmured, "Good girl," and stroked his hand from her shoulder blades down to her arse. "So fucking sexy when you're wet and ready for me like this."
She shivered in response.
The mattress dipped when he moved closer, and her breathing picked up in anticipation of what was to come while he made her wait for his next move.
Her cry of surprise as his palm cracked loudly against the skin of her arse morphed into a long, low moan when he thrust into her with one sharp buck of his hips.
And true to his word, he started fucking her with so much vigour that she had to tighten her grip on the headboard as it thumped loudly against the wall.
He praised, cursed and grunted against her shoulder—shameless, erotic words that pushed her over the edge within minutes. But Draco didn't ease up.
He kept fucking her with a brutal, unrelenting pace, squeezed her breasts, tugged on her nipples and fisted her hair almost painfully while he brought her to climax two more times.
Just when she thought he couldn't make her come again—her body tired and her thigh muscles burning—he coaxed one last orgasm from her body.
This one washed through her in slow, punishing waves that had her eyes squeezing shut and her body jerking against his chest while his fingers strummed her clit.
Her walls fluttered and clenched around his cock, over and over until she was breathless and panting. And just when she thought she couldn't take any more of this perfect torture, his fingers tightened around her hips and he followed after her with a growl. "Never going to get enough of you, Granger."
He stilled inside her after four bone-jarring thrusts and dragged his lips sensuously over her shoulder, planting soft kisses against her skin. "Can't we lock ourselves in here for the rest of the day and just forget about everyone else?"
"I'm pretty sure your mother will blast this door to pieces if we try."
"Or…she'll eventually send Pansy to come and get us," he shuddered. "That thought is scary enough to make me reconsider."
"I tell you what," Hermione placated as Draco pulled out of her, a hot gush of liquid following that turned her on all over again. "I'll let you fuck me all night long, as soon as everyone goes to bed tonight."
"You better be prepared to follow through on your promise, babe. Otherwise, I'm tying you to the bed and having my way with you until you can't keep your eyes open."
xxx
After cleaning up and getting dressed, Draco and Hermione peeked into Carina's room to find her wide awake and sucking her dummy with little smacking sounds.
As soon as she spotted Hermione, those big grey eyes widened and she stuck out her hands to be picked up. She smiled the widest, one-toothed smile that made her dummy drop to the mattress.
And Hermione melted instantly.
Her own smile was brilliant. She'd missed her baby so much that some nights she ached to leave the symposium early and go back home.
Every night she'd gone to bed wondering if Carina was missing her, and hoping that Draco secretly put her in their bed to snuggle with her and soothe her while Mommy was away.
They'd been quite strict while sleep-training all their children, but knowing Carina would be their last made them a little more lenient with her. As a result, they let her sleep in their bed when she was fussy or sick.
Draco liked having Carina fall asleep on that broad chest of his, and Carina, it seemed, enjoyed it just as much.
They often woke up early in the morning to find her playfully slapping Draco's chest or prodding her little fingers against Draco's tattoos, enthralled by the pictures on her daddy's skin.
"There's my little girl," Hermione cooed and picked Carina up. "Mommy missed you so much, baby," she said and pressed a kiss to her daughter's chubby cheek. She dragged in a lungful of that perfect baby scent that clung to Carina's skin and stroked a hand over the tuft of unruly hair that refused to be tamed by anything other than magic.
With her daughter on her hip, Hermione turned to find Draco watching them with an indulgent expression. But there was a look in his eyes that made her stomach flutter and a warning light flash in her brain all at the same time.
Uh-oh…
She knew that look…very well.
"Oh, no, Draco." She narrowed her eyes at him. "No, no, no. Absolutely not! Don't you dare give me that look."
He huffed a laugh and lifted his hands innocently. "What? I didn't do anything."
"You didn't have to. That…" she pointed at his face, "Is your 'lets-have-another-baby' look."
"But you're such an amazing mother, and we have enough money to support six kids. I just hate the idea of a quiet house. Soon, all the kids will be at Hogwarts or moving out of the house. Lyra and Scorpius only have a few more years before they graduate."
"I'm forty-four, Draco. Merlin…it was risky enough having Carina at forty-three. And she'll be in the house with us for another ten-and-a-half years. I promise you that by then you'll be excited to have a quiet house. Besides, you'll probably have grandchildren by then."
"Fine," he conceded. "But it was just a fleeting thought. I love our big family."
"Any more kids and we might as well change our surname from Malfoy to Weasley."
The irony of their big family wasn't lost on her. In school, Draco had always teased Ron mercilessly about having so many siblings. And yet, as soon as he and Hermione had started dating, he'd changed his opinion very quickly.
Draco was a total sucker for his kids, and while he'd never received nurturing and love from his parents as a child, he knew exactly how to love all five of his own.
He was patient, supportive, affectionate and playful. And there was nothing more beautiful in her life than experiencing him as a father.
When they had to decide whether to send their kids to Hogwarts or Ilvermorny, Draco had agreed with her that they wanted their children to experience Hogwarts. But ultimately, the final decision had been left up to the kids.
But Draco had sulked and wallowed for an entire week after sending Lyra off on the Hogwarts Express. And it had been exactly the same with Scorpius and Orion.
"I can't believe you just said that," Draco gasped with affront and followed her toward the stairs. "Take it back." He widened his eyes at Carina. "Tell Mommy to stop being so mean."
"I said what I said," she smirked at him over her shoulder. "Deal with it."
Draco grumbled all the way down the stairs, but at least Hermione had nipped the idea of another baby in the bud.
While they had more than enough money to support six children, their life—their family—was perfect the way it was.
The money from Draco's inheritance that Narcissa had given him before their wedding was steadily growing in their vault at Gringotts and they were making a lot of profit from Draco's four apothecaries and Astoria's ever-growing beauty line, not to mention Hermione's income as a curse-breaking consultant and her investments.
Theo greeted them with a smirk and a cocked brow when they entered the kitchen with Carina.
The kids were entertaining Narcissa and Harry with stories from school while Virginia Woof and Bark Twain begged for Theo's undivided attention.
"Got lost on your way to Carina's room, did you?" he asked them.
"Don't get smart with us, Nott," Hermione warned and shifted Carina's weight on her hip. "As if you and Harry never sneak away."
Her retort effectively shut him up, and he gave her an exaggerated eye roll before turning back to the Crups.
Getting to experience a married Theo Nott was a delight. He was a wonderful husband to Harry, an incredible father just like Draco, even if they'd had terrible examples while growing up.
After getting married at the same safari lodge where Harry had proposed six months prior to the wedding, they'd adopted Lily and Addie as babies about a year and a half later through the International Wizarding Child Welfare Association. And seven years ago when they felt ready to add to their family, Harry and Theo adopted James through IWCWA as well. The twins had instantly fallen in love with their baby brother as soon as they'd laid eyes on him, and the bond between the Potter children was a heartwarming sight to behold.
Secretly, she knew Harry wanted one more child. He'd told her so in confidence. But with his job as Head Auror at the DMLE, while Theo stayed at home to raise the kids, he'd admitted to her that he felt too guilty to add another child to Theo's already overflowing plate.
Raising kids wasn't an easy job, and while it was incredibly rewarding, Hermione knew she and Draco would have had a much tougher time juggling all their responsibilities without Narcissa's help.
"Honey, I'm home!" A voice called from the front door before two eleven-year-old boys barrelled inside, followed by their older brother, and then the owner of the voice.
Proud mother of three boys—two of whom were the rowdiest, wickedest boys ever to walk the planet, and one very well-behaved fifteen-year-old—Ginny Zabini entered the living room with an armful of shopping bags and a massive smile for Hermione.
Blaise followed soon after, hauling in the luggage with the help of a charm, unlike his wife.
When Blaise and Ginny had decided they were ready to start a family, not a single one of their friends had expected the Zabini children to be anything but little terrors. And while their firstborn, Sloane, miraculously turned out to be an angel, the twins…were exactly the opposite of their older brother.
The twins were aptly named Dash and Wilder and lived up to their names by causing chaos, destruction and fires (yes, fires) wherever they went.
"I NEED a fucking drink!" Blaise declared to Draco and Hermione as he plopped down onto one of the sofas, looking harried.
Draco barked a laugh and summoned a bottle of firewhisky and some glasses. "You know what they say, don't you?"
"What's that?" Blaise said after accepting and downing his drink in one go. He wiped his mouth and motioned to Draco for another.
"What goes around, comes around."
"Sod off, mate," Blaise scoffed and flipped him a middle finger. "I was never that bad..." he said and motioned to Dash and Wilder who were currently busy colouring in Bark Twain's white spots with a blue permanent marker. He sighed, "Besides, we can't all have well-behaved children like you and Granger do."
"Where the fuck did they get a Sharpie from?" Ginny hissed and set the groceries down at her feet to march over to the twins.
Blaise shook his head and grimaced at the scene that was about to unfold. Ginny Zabini was the only one who could put the twins in their place, evident from the way they were staring up at her with wide eyes as she pressed her fists into her sides and fixed them with a withering glare.
"Oh please, you were absolutely that bad," Pansy said and dropped down onto the couch beside Blaise, her arrival with her family much less dramatic. "It's nice when karma decides to pay a visit to those who deserve it the most."
"Scoot up," Astoria told Pansy and joined her on the only available couch. Aside from the two other couches where almost a dozen children were squeezed in together like sardines, there was the lumpy couch in the corner that nobody ever seemed to want to sit on.
As if to confirm Hermione's thoughts, Astoria pointed to the lumpy couch in question and said, "I'm definitely not sitting on that fucking thing."
"That fucking thing" that Astoria was referring to, was none other than the lumpy couch from Abigail Merriweather's office.
On the very last day of couples therapy, Draco had presented Abigail with a brand-new couch. His only request had been that she allow him to take the couch with him and "personally set it on fire" so that he could save the rest of the wizarding world from experiencing the utter discomfort of that "abominable excuse for a couch."
Surprisingly, the "abominable" couch had followed them back to Hogwarts first, and then to their current home when they moved back to Portland. And while Draco would rather die than admit he'd formed some weird, nostalgic attachment to the lumpy couch, Hermione knew the truth.
Because, even though it was a true eyesore and neither they nor anyone else ever 'sat' on the couch, Draco, to this day, refuses to get it restuffed, refurbished or get rid of it.
Another reason the couch was given a wide berth was that, for some reason, all of their friends have had sex on that couch while drunk. And every single couple had been caught in the act. Every damn time.
Draco also believed that Orion had been conceived on that couch, and while it was very possible, Hermione refused to admit it out loud to anyone.
There was something about that "abominable couch" that turned drunk adults into horny, teenagers.
"Whatever you're thinking," Astoria scrunched her nose, following Hermione's gaze, "Don't. That couch has seen way too much action, and the last thing it needs is for you and Draco to have sex on it tonight."
"We're not having sex on that couch," Hermione insisted.
"Agreed," Draco said. "Besides, it's been over a year since that couch has seen any action."
For some reason, that thought turned Hermione on something fierce.
Perhaps, later…
"Not true," Scorpius said offhandedly as he walked by with a large bowl of popcorn. "Just the other day, Grandma was snogging her new boyfriend on that couch."
"We couldn't exactly see where her boyfriend's hands were, but she was definitely making an 'o face'," Lyra pitched in.
"Lyra Malfoy!" Narcissa gasped from the kitchen, looking outraged.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Hermione interrupted. "Two questions. One, how do you know what an 'o face' looks like, young lady?" she asked Lyra. "And two, since when does Grandma have a boyfriend?"
"And three," Draco turned to Hermione with wide eyes, "Why are we only now finding out that Lyra and Scorpius caught Grandma on the couch with her boyfriend while making said 'o face'?" He looked a little green around the gills as he asked this.
"If anyone needs me," Narcissa said, grabbing a wine glass and a bottle of white wine before she walked with her head held high toward the sliding doors that opened onto the porch in the backyard. "I'll be drowning myself in wine. Or in the pool. Who knows, really."
"I'll join you, Narcissa," Hermione said and summoned a wineglass for herself. To Draco, she said, "I'll leave you to deal with Scorpius and Lyra and the whole 'o face' ordeal." And with that, she hurriedly followed her mother-in-law outside.
"I'm sorry, but I have to hear about Grandma's new beau," Pansy said moments later as she took a seat on the wicker chair beside Hermione, eyeing Narcissa with glee. "I left Astoria in there to help Draco handle the situation. Because now, Elle and Delaney want to know what an 'o face' is as well."
"Jesus…" Hermione groaned and uncorked the wine with a flick of her wand. Another flick had their glasses filled to the absolute brim with wine, and before she said anything else, Hermione downed the entire glass. "Maybe I shouldn't have left Draco alone in there to deal with this shit storm. Sorry, Narcissa," she tacked on at the end. "Excuse my language."
Her mother-in-law waved away the apology. "Blaise's kids use much more colourful words than you'd believe. I'm becoming immune. As for Draco…he'll be fine. There are more than enough adults in there to handle the situation."
"Blaise doesn't count as an adult, just in case you wondered," Pansy told Narcissa, who grinned despite herself.
"Agreed," Ginny said as she breezed through the doors and onto the porch to join them. She had a wine glass in one hand and another bottle of wine in the other. "Even at fifteen, Sloane is much more mature than his father. Now," she turned to Narcissa, "Tell us all about your boyfriend." And then she filled her glass, took a seat and smirked deviously.
xxx
As it turned out, Narcissa's new boyfriend wasn't so new after all.
Noah Westwood was the muggle-born wizard that Narcissa had fallen head over heels for in her school days. He was the boy she'd intended to marry before she was forced to marry Lucius instead.
Hermione knew about Noah. Narcissa had told her all about him—about their whirlwind romance—during the time she and Hermione had grown closer and got to know each other better. And it was this, more than anything, that had given Hermione hope that her mother-in-law wasn't as bad as she'd initially appeared. While she'd made all the wrong choices after marrying Lucius, had been bitter, depressed, abused and oppressed, she'd once been 'just a regular girl' who'd fallen for a boy her family had taught her not to love. She'd shunned all the Sacred Twenty-Eight values once upon a time. And at the heart of it all, wasn't that what really mattered?
Thanks to Pansy's probing and a steady supply of wine, Narcissa had admitted that, yes, it had been an 'o face' she'd made on the couch on the particular day Lyra and Scorpius had caught her with Noah.
She hadn't expected the kids to be back from town so soon, and while things between her and her boyfriend had gotten heated, they'd not had sex that day. Nor had they been planning to have sex on the lumpy abomination of a couch.
Narcissa and Noah had bumped into each other in town one day while he'd been visiting with some family on his father's side, and once they'd started talking, it turned out Noah had lost his wife four years ago. His children, like Draco, were grown and married, living their own lives in England.
A quick coffee to catch up had turned into dinner, and from there, it had taken only a week for them to start dating officially.
She and Noah have been dating in secret for the last three months and were very serious about each other, but Narcissa insisted that if he wanted a future with her, he'd have to move to Portland because there was no way she was leaving her grandchildren for any man. Not even for him. She'd pandered to one man's whims for far too long to make that mistake again, thank you very much.
xxx
"I just can't believe you knew about this and haven't told me," Hermione accused with the beginnings of a slur, brushing Draco's hand away from the path it was taking toward her thong as he slipped his hand under her dress. When had her tights disappeared, anyway?
"To be fair, love," he defended, pulling her closer toward his erection while she straddled him on the lumpy couch, "I only found out about it four days ago. You were away and I was planning on telling you as soon as we had a moment to ourselves."
He rucked her dress up over her hips, squeezed her arse and then slipped one hand between her legs to resume his trek toward her thong. He made it to the damp gusset this time before she squeezed her thighs shut.
"Stop it, Draco. I am not having sex with you on this couch tonight," she huffed even though she was burning for his touch. "And we had time alone when we took a shower earlier. And after we got out of the shower…"
"No," he said stubbornly and pulled her hips harder against his straining cock. "That was so I could fuck you after an entire week without you in my bed. Not to talk about my mother and her boyfriend." He shot her a sexy smirk. "And I am definitely fucking you on this couch tonight."
"We're going to get caught, baby," she said but scooted backwards just far enough so she could unzip his trousers and pull out his cock.
"We're not going to get caught, love," he insisted, pulling her closer and flush against his cock. The only thing separating them now was the thin, soaked material of her thong.
"It's three in the morning. Everyone's either asleep or passed out."
"No," she shook her head. "You know how it goes. Someone always walks in on whoever's fucking on the lumpy couch. It's Murphy's law."
When Draco's fingers pushed the gusset to the side, she wasted no time lifting her hips and sinking down onto him until she was uncomfortably full and vibrating with the thrill of getting caught in the act. Anyone could walk in on them right now.
At least the kids were all staying in Narcissa's cottage for the night, and Carina's been fed and changed about an hour ago. She'd probably sleep through the night.
"I love fucking you on this couch, Granger," Draco groaned, his head tipped back while he worked her up and down on his cock with a firm grip on her hips. And something about the way he used her maiden name while they had sex drove Hermione crazy with desire every damn time. "It feels like we're twenty-year-old newlyweds again."
"Bet I can still make you come in under two minutes like we are twenty-year-olds," she gasped, eyes rolling back just as Draco hit that sweet spot deep inside her like only he could.
"Bet I can still make you scream like—"
"Bet you're going to wake this whole house up if you make your wife scream like a twenty-year-old," a voice interrupted with an evil chuckle. "Nice arse, by the way, Granger."
Pansy.
Hermione confirmed the identity of the intruder when she looked over her shoulder to find Pansy grinning at them, a glass of water in her hand.
She narrowed her eyes at Pansy. "Why are you down here for water, anyway? When I know for a fact that Narcissa left glasses and a large jug of water in every single guest room."
Pansy shrugged. "Ginny bet me that you and Draco would be the ones getting your 'o faces' on on the lumpy couch tonight. I had to see it for myself."
"Well, now that you've seen it for yourself," Ginny said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, "Pay up, bitch. You owe me fifty galleons."
"Go settle the score somewhere else, if you don't mind," Draco said and waved them away. "Hermione and I are trying to get our 'o faces' on, as you said. And you're ruining it for us."
"Just use protection this time," Ginny shot back. "Another baby and you might as well change your surname to Weasley."
And with a smug grin at Draco and her, Ginny pranced away with Pansy hot on her heels.
"And keep it down, will you," Pansy said just before she disappeared from view. "Some of us are trying to sleep."
"Oh, my gods," Hermione giggled and pressed her face against Draco's chest. "See! What did I tell you earlier about becoming the next Weasleys?"
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Leave your thoughts one last time if you enjoyed the fic.
Hopefully, I'll be writing more fics soon. I'm already playing with ideas for a shorter story.
xxx
Fictionallizzy