Bringing everyone to Malfoy Manor had been a terrible idea.

Most everyone was watching England play in the Women's World Cup, Draco among them, but tension was heavy in the air. Of all the chairs that had been placed in front of the large television in the drawing room, Draco chose the seat next to Ron Weasley. He had questions and Weasley was the only person who could truly answer them. Well, him and Viktor Krum. Weasley didn't greet him, nor did he stand to leave. Draco supposed that was as much of an invitation for conversation as he was likely to get. As the match wound down, England clearly heading to victory, Draco leaned to his right and asked,

"Could I trouble you to answer a personal question?"

Weasley shrugged, not bothering to look over. Draco watched the light of the telly bounce off and on against the side of Weasley's face through the ballroom's dim lighting. He presumed Hermione was still hanging around the back wall, while Bastien was in one of the far chairs next to Padma, as tense as Draco had ever seen him. Theo and Tracey were hanging around the Longbottoms, having hit it off rather quickly. Though Hannah Longbottom seemed to keep popping in and out—

"About me or Hermione?" asked Weasley.

"Sex with Hermione, so both, I suppose."

"I haven't slept with her since the incident. Sex is a bit different, now, I imagine."

Draco sighed and grimaced, his stomach twisting into a knot. He was ashamed to admit what he was about to reveal to Ron Weasley, of all people.

"When we initially talked about being together, she told me she hadn't slept with anyone since you. As I bungled our first opportunity together, she went off and shagged Viktor Krum. In addition to me not having sex since my wife died, now I've got to match up to Viktor bloody Krum." Draco huffed, "I cannot imagine a higher standard."

"You're right." Weasley conceded, "Not to think too highly of myself, but Hermione's always had very high standards in this area."

"I dunno how aware you are of my reputation in this area—"

"Very aware of your history." Weasley smiled wryly. "I keep close watch on the people around Hermione. She is fragile now, but she's stupid about it. She's always been stupid about it, and if she is around the wrong people—"

Draco flashed back to Graham Greengrass with his hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"—she gets hurt."

"Understood."

"Look," Weasley sighed again, "Harry's always been a bit jealous of people. He'd never admit it, but Gin was his first girlfriend and he's never so much as kissed a man. When you find someone you want to be with the way they've always wanted to be with each other, nobody else really matters. Why waste time on another relationship?"

Theo and Tracey were just the same.

"Ten years back, he wanted to go to clubs just to be around your sort of people but he wasn't out so he didn't. Didn't want to be the bloke the tabloids said cheated on the best female footballer in the country with some twink. He wouldn't, of course, he'd never do Gin like that. But you know how the papers are. If he went, that's what they would print."

Draco knew the papers well enough to understand how true that was.

"But Harry kept tabs on things because he was interested. Living vicariously. You and Zabini were very active in that scene, as I recall."

"Pictures of my cock slapped across pages of every gossip website for weeks." Draco laughed and admitted, "I look back on it now, and all I can think is that I didn't appreciate my abs when I had them."

"What do you need to know for Hermione, then?"

"Just …" Draco grimaced. "What the expectations are."

"The usual shit."

"No, I mean to ask whether she's got any expectations of me because I've been … around."

"Oh."

Weasley laughed. Draco clocked the precise moment he put the pieces together.

"You're worried you're going to finish too soon?"

"Great, could you say that any fucking louder, please?"

"Look, Hermione's the sort of woman who sleeps with men she loves. She isn't judgmental in bed. Doctors advised against us being intimate for months because she was healing several different muscles, they were fucking up her skin everywhere, and looking at her broke my heart. Spent a week praying for my wife to survive, only for her to go through even more pain for months and months. Then Hermione went back to BBC two full months before she was medically cleared to leave."

Draco winced.

"I hate to say it, but that sounds exactly like her."

"When you ask about Hermione's expectations, it's just sex. If she loves you, she won't care you've got a bit of a timing issue."

"I care," said Draco. "I'm all-in, but not sure my cock's received the notification. My reputation in this area was well-established with both men and women, and now I'm left wondering whether I can get it up for my girlfriend."

"What's the issue?" asked Weasley.

"She told me the first man she tried to sleep with after you rejected her because he thought her arm looked hideous and couldn't get it up."

"Bollocks. Men like that guy will fuck anything."

"I know that and you know that, but Hermione doesn't. It messed with her in a deep way and I am worried if I can't …" Draco groaned. "If I can't, then it will only make her feel worse about herself."

"If she shagged Krum, it's probably a boon for you because Hermione realized men will still find her attractive." Weasley's face darkened. "Bastard was all over her that summer they were together. They fucked more than they talked. Anyway, I was asking what the root of the issue is for you."

"Grief, mostly. I lost all desire for sex when my wife died. The crux of it: me having sex with her is what killed her. Hard to get it up when each time you do, all you can think is that the woman you loved is dead because of your dick."

Weasley considered that, then nodded in understanding.

"Have you told Hermione this?"

"Yes."

"Then you've got nothing to worry about. She knows what she wants and if she's decided you are the man she wants, she'll work with whatever you give her. If you tell her I said this I will murder you," Weasley lowered his voice to a near-whisper, "and I will deny I ever said it."

"Understood."

Weasley looked down at the ground and laced his fingers together.

"I offered to be intimate again once they stopped taking skin from her legs. I thought, y'know, her upper half was mostly off-limits but I could still get her off. She didn't want it. Hermione was too afraid of what she looked like for me, me of all people, to see her intimately the way she looked then."

Draco frowned and asked, "Really?"

"When she first began talking to me like it might be alright, like she might be ready to have sex again, I could tell it was more for me than it was for her. She was terrified I wouldn't find her as attractive as I did, even though I'd seen her starkers through the entire process. She wasn't thinking logically, for the first time in her life. Her whole world had been turned upside-down and word started going 'round that BBC had moved on from her to Marietta Edgecombe. They planned to make Marietta permanent if she was in the post for a year. Hermione felt like a failure and was unbearably depressed. When BBC phoned because there was an attack on the American embassy in Libya …" Weasley shrugged. "It was ten months into Marietta's term and Hermione saw it as the only way to keep her job. She wasn't cleared to go back to work so Hermione lied to BBC so they would put her back on assignment. I left her because I couldn't watch her do that."

Draco's heart sank. He heard the ache in Weasley's voice, deeper than what Hermione had imparted. The way she spoke about their divorce, his actions seemed somewhat callous. Listening to him, it was evident Weasley had very deep feelings about that decision. Guilt chief among them, if the sudden depth in the lines of his brow was anything to judge by. Draco could hardly blame him for divorcing her, knowing how careless she was with her own life. Weasley clenched his jaw, just waiting for Draco to say something, fearing he'd said too much.

"Having lost a woman I loved, I don't blame you."

"I'm done talking about this and we'll never speak of it again."

"Understood."

"I, uh, well …" Weasley grimaced. "I can tell you care for Hermione. This conversation was awkward as hell, but I appreciate you bringing it up. It's not as if leaving her was something I wanted. I know I broke her heart, but it broke mine to do it, too. I care for her and always sort of hoped she would find someone who can love her for all the things I gave up on."

"I don't think you gave up on anything; Hermione gave up on everything that wasn't her career. I do love her, and we've both lost so much that we can meet each other in that darkness. That grief. Whether she truly loves me in return? I can't say."

Weasley stood up and said, "I wouldn't be here if she didn't."

.oOo.

Draco woke to someone knocking on his bedroom door. He looked at the empty half of his bed and flung the covers onto it. Hermione hadn't appeared at all in the evening, leaving Draco cold and alone. He didn't know where to direct his anger. He trudged over and flung open the door to reveal the head of house. Draco pressed the heel of his hand into one eye and groaned,

"Lewin, it's got to be six o'clock. What the bloody hell do you want?"

With a straight face, Lewin revealed, "It is seven-thirty, sir."

Draco's heart skipped a beat. He overslept? He never overslept.

"Is Scorpius awake?"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, the young sirs Scorpius and Albus Potter watched the sun rise on the portico with Miss Lovegood. Evidently, she paints them."

Draco yawned and asked, "She paints children in the morning?"

"Sunrises, Mr. Malfoy. She likes to sit and paint the sunrise."

"Oh." Draco blinked himself awake and conceded, "That makes more sense. I apologize for sleeping so late."

"No need, Mr. Malfoy. It is your house."

"And you run it well. However, you've got a look in your eyes I don't like."

Lewin's face fell. He sighed. Lewin never sighed. Hell, Lewin was rarely seen. He'd been head of house for decades, and he aged as well as the house itself. The four hundred thousand quid and free housing most likely helped with that, but Lewin was part of the house. He managed all the manor's ins and outs, nooks and crevices, probably had the manor blueprints memorized. Most problems were solved before Narcissa or Draco noticed; if Lewin was concerned, something had gone terribly wrong.

"I am not meant to meddle in your affairs. However, word has passed through the staff that Hermione Granger slept in the blue guestroom along with Ron Weasley and Harry Potter."

Draco was unmoved.

"They are her best friends and married men."

"Her ex-husband, sir. It is not a good look."

Draco rolled his eyes and insisted, "You know me well enough to trust I would not have invited someone to the manor if I believed they would sleep with my girlfriend. Hermione would never do that to me, and I don't care how it looks."

Lewin raised an eyebrow as if to say, We both know you do.

"Nothing further will be said of it. Second, I would prefer you to visit your mother in her study."

Draco frowned and asked, "Are you telling me to check up on my mother?"

"No," replied Lewin, "I am requesting you go to her. Anything more is not my place."

"I am not certain this request is yours to make," said Draco. "Were it anyone else, they'd be packing their bags. Is something wrong?"

"She ended her relationship with Miss Clearwater last night, and has not left her study since."

Draco's frown deepened.

"You know about Penelope?"

"I oversee manor operations, Mr. Malfoy. I have known that young woman for eight years and have immense respect for her. As it is, I am overstepping my role out of concern and respect for your mother. This is as far as I am willing to step, and I am only requesting you make your way to her study."

Draco grimaced.

"Fine. I will shower then check on her. But, Lewin?"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco hedged a bit before asking, "If you've known about Penelope the whole time, how did you get her into the manor without me noticing?"

Lewin's face gave away nothing, but that look in his eyes … It was sympathy. Pity. All the things that coloured his world once Astoria was ripped from it. Draco had been too wrapped up in his grief to notice Penelope Clearwater traipsing through his house. He sighed and shook his head before saying,

"Thank you for telling me this. I will talk her 'round."

"Thank you, sir."

Draco closed the door as Lewin turned away. He made for the bathroom, cursing himself the whole way. He made for the shower and turned the knob about one degree from scalding before shutting the glass door. Draco undressed, tossed his pyjamas on the floor and watched the steam build inside the shower. He grabbed a clip and twisted his hair tight against the back of his head.

Everything had gone to shit.

Total shit.

Draco opened the shower door and stepped directly into the rush of steam. He turned the knob toward cool and stuck his face directly into the stream. The water quickly cooled off and stung his cheeks. He glanced down at his dick and thought, Maybe tonight. Maybe this is the proper time. And if it isn't … You will have to be content with manual drive awhile longer.

Water dripped off the tip of Draco's nose. He reached for the soap and a loofah as his thoughts turned toward salvaging this get-together. Penelope Clearwater and Diggory were lost causes, wallowing in their separate miseries beneath the grey London clouds. But what of everyone else?

Parvati seemed helpless, but that was the one bit of this Draco might be equipped to handle. Padma and Bastien would be understanding and forgive her secrecy once they knew; it was up to Parvati when best to tell them.

Then there was Potter and Weasley. Hermione sleeping in the same room with them didn't bother Draco. It was sleeping in the same room with them while she should've been in his bed, riding his dick. Every day they pushed off sex was a day Ron Weasley knew what Hermione's tits felt like while Draco didn't. Each day they put it off was another day Draco was left to wonder whether it would ever happen. Perhaps they should admit that whatever love they shared wasn't the proper course to take, no matter how desperately they wished it to be. Of course that was total bollocks and Draco would fight whomever it took to keep Hermione in his life, and in his arms. But there was a tiny bit of doubt whether Draco would live up to her expectations and his own.

Then there was Dean Thomas. He seemed like a great man and a kind soul. He had the sort of qualities everyone wanted in a partner, and the very things wealth tended to force out of people. Blaise was too naïve to understand his money would change Dean's relationship to everyone around him, most notably his family. Paying for tuition is one thing, but what happens when they ask for a house? Would Dean Thomas deny them or take Blaise's money for his family's gain? What if they asked for a sports car? A flat for their friend? A trip to the Maldives? Love could get in the way of practicality, much as it ought to. Blaise needed to have a firm grasp of where Dean Thomas would draw the line, and Draco suspected neither of them had considered this reality.

Draco stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and looked at himself in the mirror. Not bad overall. Compared to the last time he shagged a woman, his body had changed. Twenty-eight to thirty-four was softer. Blaise had always been rather soft around the middle, raised on olive oil and bread, yet millions of blokes across the world still found him attractive. Perhaps there was something to be said for getting older—the one privilege Astoria never got to touch.

Draco dressed in a pair of jeans and a striped button-down. It felt a bit formal, a bit too work-like. This was breakfast with his mates, not a meeting. Draco took a deep breath and thought about whom he wanted to be that day. The answer that came to mind wasn't "Hermione's boyfriend" or "head of Malfoy Holdings." No, the most important thing Draco needed to be was Scorp's father. He initiated a wardrobe change by grabbing a pair of pinstriped trousers and a white half-button-down sweater with a polo collar. Draco grabbed one of his favourite navy watches and fluffed his hair. Another glance in the mirror showed him a man that looked far more comfortable in his life, and those trousers made him look taller.

Nice.

As he walked toward his mother's study, Draco noted the manor walls were full of life. The house hadn't played host to this sort of party in far too long. Certainly not a party of Draco's friends. Muffled sounds of frustration filtered through the door as Draco approached the green guestroom. Hermione's friends, the Longbottoms, had made the mistake of leaving the door slightly ajar. Draco peeked in to find them attempting to stuff a lampshade into a rather large case. Draco shrugged, supposing if they managed to fit it in then they earned the right to keep it.

Draco knocked on the door to his mother's study. He heard her muffled shout from inside,

"I am not a child, Lewin! If you knock on this door once more, I will fire you!"

Draco knew that was untrue; Lewin's family had been head of house for four generations. He knocked again and heard something crash against the door, like glass shattering then falling to the floor. Draco flung the door open to find his mother face-down on her desk, in her party clothes from the previous evening. The broken stem of a wine glass was on the floor at his feet and the bowl of it had shattered into several tiny pieces. Draco tentatively asked,

"Shall I ask Lewin to send someone to clean this up?"

Draco watched his mother jump then bolt upright, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes before shaking her head.

"I am sorry, my son. Lewin has been far too officious this morning and I presumed you were him once again."

She placed her elbows on her desk and rested her head in her hands. Draco had never seen his mother look quite this far out of her head, discounting the day his father died. Narcissa's makeup had worn off in places, eyeliner was smudged below her undereyes, and her hair was a tangled mess. Draco couldn't recall a single moment in his life when he'd seen his mother look so disheveled. She was always composed, always terrifying, yet she looked like a broken woman.

"He sent me."

Narcissa rolled her eyes and muttered, "Of course he did. I have been the lady of this manor for thirty years and he thinks one bad night can ruin—"

"Mum?" asked Draco. "Are you alright?"

She nodded and insisted, "Of course. I am fine, I only need a shower," she tugged on the end of her sleeve, "then I will be right again."

"I don't believe you." Draco stepped further inside the room and asked, "What happened?"

"Miss Clearwater is no longer my … My girlfriend, as you said."

Narcissa stood up and tried to walk past Draco, but he pulled her into a hug and held her close. She stood there, rigid, and did not make a move to hug him in return. Draco kept his arms tight around her until she spoke.

"You were correct, my son, that I love her and I didn't want you to know. I have cried all the tears I have and it is time to move on. I do not have the luxury of lingering in that pain."

"I know." Draco rubbed her back as he said, "I won't pretend to understand your relationship to her, but if you love Penelope then I know you had proper reason to end it."

"She wants a family."

Draco looked down as his mother stepped back, looking into her eyes as she pressed her hand against her chest.

"She would never leave me of her own volition. I had to end our relationship so she could pursue that dream."

"Why did you not want me to know?"

Narcissa shook her head.

"It is embarrassing." She admitted, "How embarrassing to admit, as a mother, that you judged your own child for so long only to realize you are the reason he is the way he is."

Oh.

"I'd been alone for so long when I met Penelope. I knew my attraction to her was more than vanity. It began that way, a shallow attempt at providing for her as she provided for me. Once I knew she could care for me the way I cared for her, I finally admitted to myself and your father that I share your … Your …" Narcissa huffed. "I cared for a woman. I was ashamed, then I was ashamed of being ashamed."

Draco paused for a long moment and truly studied his mother. She couldn't meet his gaze and he ached over it. How long had she carried this? Except she already answered, hadn't she? Eight years she had kept this inside and only now chosen to allow Draco to see this part of her heart. Draco placed both hands on her shoulders and said,

"I think you are giving yourself a lot of credit for something you had very little to do with."

Narcissa didn't so much as flinch.

"You loved someone. Loving someone who became part of your life, who made you feel cared for? Someone you hoped would one day be your equal? That does not make you bisexual, it makes you human. My sexuality has nothing to do with you, except to say that you have been my biggest supporter."

"Because you are my son," she replied. "I would never permit your father to hurt you, to curse you, to cast you out as he did. You are my son, Draco Malfoy. Your father showed me what you would be up against your whole life, so yes, I hoped you would be normal. I hoped so desperately that you would fall for Blaise and have a happy life with dual-citizen Italian babies. Then you found Astoria and your father and I both got what we wanted. I saw my son so happy, I saw my son become a father only to lose every bright bit of his soul the day afterward." Narcissa's breath stuttered when she revealed, "Your father fought so hard to be at the funeral only for it to be pulled from beneath us."

Draco's heart sank lower. He never knew his father planned to attend. He never knew his father cared enough … Bloody hell, he never knew his father cared.

"You put your marriage on the line for me, because of what he did. My father treated me like I was disposable and you were the only person who made me feel I wasn't."

"My son." Narcissa finally met his gaze and placed her hands on either side of his face. "Your father gave me this life, and I gave him you. I think you misunderstand why the Granger girl is making you feel so deeply."

Draco admitted, "People continue to tell me that I will love her the way my father loved you. That does not feel true to me, but I keep hearing it so often I have nearly begun to believe it."

"Those people misunderstand the man you are. You are not your father's son. You are my son and you will always be my son. Those people have it the wrong way 'round, you are falling in love with the Granger girl the way I loved your father. She is giving you new life, and you are giving her a family."

Draco let out a soft, "Oh."

Narcissa dropped her hands and said, "Thank you for this. I hate that I needed your comfort—"

"Never hate that."

"—yet I am grateful you knew the words I needed to hear. I will not be at breakfast, but I will be out before lunch. I need to have a chat with that Dean boy."

Draco conceded, "Better you than me."

"Yes."

.oOo.

Draco was the last of the guests to arrive in the dining room for breakfast, his morning off to a rather late start. There was an empty chair at the head of the table, to the right of Hermione. He paused in the doorway, noting a bit more ease between the friend groups. Parvati was next to Hermione, though, and she looked like she would rather be anywhere else. She was wearing a man's jumper, trackies, and slippers. Draco guessed Padma had only just stopped short of physically pulling her out of bed.

The Longbottoms sat to her left, and Draco wondered whether he still owned a green lampshade. He noticed Hannah's purse at the base of her chair, with what looked like the tines of a fork peeking out the top. Luna Lovegood was next, her hair pinned back in a haphazard bun secured by three pencils sticking out at odd angles. Draco thought that, given their similar hair colour and that morning's penchant for buns, they might be mistaken as cousins. He smiled to himself and conceded it would be far better company than some other branches of the combined Malfoy/Black family tree.

Potter and Weasley were the least-delightful additions to the table. Next to them were Albus and Scorpius, trading berries and eggs like currency. Tracey and Theo were next to Padma and Bastien, the former of whom were having a far better time than the latter. Rounding out to the seats on Draco's right were Blaise and Dean. Draco noted the sappy smile on Blaise's face and the relaxed lean in the chair that was so unlike him. They certainly had sex last night, and Draco supposed if he wasn't having any then he could hardly blame Blaise for taking the opportunity. Hell, the Longbottoms probably managed a shag between pinching bits of manor memorabilia. Overall, it was the most delightful morning Draco had in years.

The manor felt like home.

Draco walked into the room and made a beeline for Scorpius. He bent over the back of the chair, scooped his son out of the seat, and pulled him into a tight hug. Scorpius grinned and hugged him around the neck.

"Good morning, son."

"Morning, dad!" He leaned back to say, "Did you know Miss Luna paints the sun?!"

"I have heard."

"She made me a painting! And one for Al!"

"Oh?"

"And chef let me wash berries!"

Draco said, "It sounds like you have already had quite a full morning."

Scorpius nodded.

"May I sit? I want my berries."

Draco asked, "Is that proper?"

"May I sit, please?"

Draco placed Scorpius back on his seat then made his way to the other end of the table. He plopped into the empty chair, and leaned forward to kiss Hermione good morning. She smiled, giggled even, and Draco couldn't pull away. He lingered far longer than he should've, until Bastien shouted,

"Oi! Some of us are still trying to eat breakfast!"

Draco laughed and looked over to see Bastien struggling not to smile. He nodded as if to say, It's nice to see you happy. Hell, it was nice to be happy. Hermione whispered,

"Good morning to you, too."

"I missed you last night. You slept in a room with two other men, and the staff have begun to talk. Thought I should take the opportunity to remind everyone you belong in my bed."

"Do I?" asked Hermione.

Draco whispered, "Without question."

Hermione nodded, and Draco took a moment to really look at her. She'd opted for another short-sleeved jumper, pale pink with a monogram print. The raised bits of purpleish skin toward the base of her neck were far more visible than they had been. Hermione caught Draco looking at them before he glanced away. She gestured to the pancakes, pre-sliced, on her plate.

"Thank you for this. I appreciate that you remembered."

"Chef is happy to accommodate."

"But you asked him to."

"Of course. though his pancakes aren't nearly as good as mine," teased Draco. "And I must say, I'm not bothered by you spending the evening with Potter and Weasley. I trust you."

"I know you do. We fell asleep talking; Cedric and Parvati's split has a ripple effect for all of us. The three of us haven't had time together in so long, we got carried away."

"I am glad you had time with your friends."

Hermione turned her whole body to look at him and say, "Thank you for giving it to me."

.oOo.

The Longbottoms departed shortly after breakfast. Guests were left to wander around, and Draco first found Parvati staring morosely out the window of the drawing room. He knocked on the wall and she didn't so much as turn around. She asked,

"What do you want?"

"May I come in?"

Parvati nodded. Draco walked inside and took a spot on the chaise next to her. She had tugged the ends of the sleeves over her fingers to make her hands into sweater paws. Her arms were crossed as she slumped forward, curling further into herself. He laced his fingers together and said,

"Diggory told me what happened."

Parvati huffed, "Happy to know he's spreading it around."

"He was heartbroken and needed to tell someone; I happened to be that person. I would like to say something, if I may."

"Why not?" Parvati rubbed away the tears pooling in the bottom of her eyes. "Can't be any worse than what I think of myself."

Draco placed his hand on the centre of her back and let her breathe for a moment. He'd been there. He'd been just that low. Lower, even. Once her breaths leveled out, he said,

"I know what you feel right now, in a way. Not exactly, but … I lost a life with my wife because of her pregnancy, and you lost a good love because of yours. The failure you feel will linger. Everyone around you will tell you that it's not your fault, that you should not blame yourself, and no matter how true those words are you will blame yourself. You will feel the guilt."

Parvati asked, "How did you deal with it?"

"Avoidance, mostly. The thing Hermione helped me to see was that my guilt hurt those I love most. My guilt kept me from loving them. You must look forward."

"Do you know what I see when I look forward? A man I love. Another pregnancy, another miscarriage, another failure."

"I understand."

"And I didn't get to enjoy it." Parvati sighed and wiped tears from her cheeks. "Maybe if I'd known, if I had a moment to celebrate even the possibility … But I didn't know."

"The not knowing is a deeper ache than anyone realizes. I wonder every day about what Astoria would think of my son. Am I raising him right? Would she be disappointed that Blaise is a better father to him than I have been? I'll never know. What I did to compensate for her loss was surround my son with as many people who love him as I could …" Draco admitted, "Because I knew I couldn't give him enough on my own. If I can give you one piece of advice—"

"I didn't ask you for advice."

"Fair enough."

"But …" Parvati hedged. "If I did?"

Draco gave her one final pat on the back and stood up from the chaise. He said,

"You have people who care about you. Let them care for you, and don't allow the ache to consume you. You are too strong a person to let this deter you from the family you want."

Parvati took his hand and gave it a brief squeeze. She didn't say anything else, and Draco recognized the dismissal for what it was. He departed the drawing room and closed the door, leaving Parvati to her grief. He barely made it ten steps down the hall before a member of the maid staff stopped him.

"Mr. Malfoy, sir, we have a bit of an issue in the green guestroom."

Draco sighed. The Longbottoms must've managed to nick the lampshade after all. He followed the staff member upstairs to the green guestroom, walked through the open door, and his jaw dropped. The mattress was completely exposed, duvet and bed linens nowhere to be seen. It appeared the lampshade was just the beginning, as the lamp itself was missing. The floral arrangement and its vase were also absent. He laughed.

"Should I inquire about the state of the bathroom?"

"They took nearly everything. All the guestrooms are missing their extra soaps. This bathroom has no shampoo, conditioner, lotion, cleanser, it's all gone, sir." She conceded, "I am surprised they did not make a go for the mattress."

Draco laughed.

"This may be the most elaborate theft Malfoy Manor has ever seen. I'm rather inclined to replace the goods and let them have their mementos."

"It will be three months before we can replace the bed linens; those are a custom order. Everything else ought to be replaced within two days. We do have a spare duvet, so I can place that on the mattress for aesthetics."

"Brilliant." Draco shrugged. "Hermione's friends are nothing if not entertaining. Is there anything else I need to know?"

"No, sir."

An hour later, everyone made their way to the portico at the back of the house. Albus and Scorpius made their way down the steps as quickly as they could, the adults far behind. Draco sidled up to Hermione and took her left hand in his right. He said,

"How are you this morning?"

"Happy, mostly."

"Mostly?"

"I've been reading a book for an interview I have scheduled in a couple weeks. Less, actually, closer to a week. I find myself in an ethics quandary."

"Malfoy Manor is many things, though not often the site of ethical pondering. We're more of the, I want this and how do I get it sort."

"If I have evidence someone is a fraud, am I obligated to inform them prior to the interview?"

"Depends, in my view." Draco offered, "There's a difference between one lie and a scammer. If someone has built a career on lies, then you don't need to inform them you are pulling on a single thread. What unravels from that is of their own making."

Hermione nodded.

"Another interview, then." She dropped into her news anchor voice. "Ballsy bitch Hermione Granger back at it on BBC, ending Gilderoy Lockhart's career next Wednesday at seven."

"Thank God, it's been dreadfully dull without you putting diplomats in the proverbial guillotine." Draco wrapped his arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Thought you might be going soft on me, Granger."

"I hoped to be softer."

She glanced down at the ground and let her shoulders slump. Draco said,

"Then be soft with me. I love when you make me laugh, I love getting to hold you, snog you on the rare occasions we've been given. We deserve something soft."

Hermione nodded. Draco wondered,

"Why are you determined to be less forceful? The day we met, you and I had a disagreement over BBC Breakfast. Now you are asking whether it is appropriate to expose someone who has likely stolen the work of how many others?"

"Several," conceded Hermione.

"You can be the guillotine in journalism or you can be the plush red sofa. You cannot be both."

"How should I be soft for you, then?" asked Hermione.

The group pairings ventured apart a bit, still within sight of each other but Draco led Hermione over to one of the benches near a fountain. He hoped the gurgling and rippling noises would obscure their conversation well enough. Draco asked,

"Can you rephrase the question?"

"I get to laugh around you, be a softer version of who I am. I want to know how best to show you that when we are together more intimately."

Draco frowned.

"Did you ask Viktor Krum how to be soft for him?"

"No, because I didn't want to be soft for Viktor. Our intimacy was always a bit more," Hermione blushed, "edgy and quick. It is different with you."

"Because I'm bisexual."

"Because I love you and I want you to feel how light you make this part of my life while the rest of it is clouded by such failure." She paused before conceding, "And you are different from the rest of the men I've been with."

Draco repeated, "Because I'm bisexual."

"You said you are past the point where you try to explain it to people."

"I am. Yet you just asked me, in a very clever way, to explain it to you."

"We are going to have sex and I want to ensure—"

"What," teased Draco, "that I have a good time?"

Hermione's cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink, but she didn't try to walk it back. Draco grinned and said,

"If you really intend for me to explain it to you, I will. Perhaps I should get an easel, draw up a slide, perhaps a little infographic like I would a business proposal—"

"You're being rather rude about it."

"As though you asking about my sexuality isn't rude?"

"I don't want to disappoint you!" huffed Hermione. "Why is this such a chore? I've been trying to shag you for months and you've put it off. I have quite literally thrown myself on top of you twice now, and we agreed it will finally happen. I only want to ensure if you are finally ready it is worthwhile. That is why I asked."

Oh. Draco frowned and leaned back on the bench. He listened to the plop plop plop of rushing water hitting the stagnant pool at the bottom of the fountain. Hermione's thoughts were rather sensible. She couldn't possibly know he wouldn't push her away a third time. He imagined she must be panicking about it, given how humiliated she was the first time it happened. And the second.

"I see now, and I apologize for not seeing it before."

Hermione nodded but did not reply. Draco placed his hand on Hermione's thigh. He ran his thumb in a small circle over the fabric of her trousers, trying to form the proper words.

"You won't need to do much of anything. I owe you this moment, Hermione, because of those two false starts."

"But—"

"Don't think about it, golden girl. Let me take care of it." Draco amended, "Let me take care of you."

Hermione nodded.

"I want to impress you, is all."

Draco gave her thigh a gentle squeeze and insisted, "You impress me every day. And please tell your friends, the Kleptobottoms, they will be receiving a bill for my breakfast plates. Those are a family heirloom."

Hermione giggled and repeated, "The Kleptobottoms. Sounds like a miniseries on BBC, perhaps I'll pitch it to the network. It'll be top streamed on iPlayer, I can already see it. I know Hannah stole your soap, and I am sorry—"

"Hermione, they stole the whole bedroom."

"What?!"

Before Draco could reply, Blaise appeared out of nowhere to sit on the bench at Draco's other side. He said,

"Your mother asked for a private conversation with Dean."

Draco squeezed Blaise's shoulder and confirmed, "Some things are best coming from her."

"What could she possibly have to tell him?" Blaise huffed, "I brought him here so she could see I finally found the man I intend to marry after so many years of searching."

That hit Draco like an unexpected punch to the gut. Did he truly think so little of their year together? Blaise gave him no time to dwell on it.

"I watched them and saw Dean's face begin to change. It was as if he was doing maths in his head."

Hermione interjected, "He is trying to impress her."

She leaned forward a bit to catch Blaise's gaze. Blaise seemed surprised to find her there. Hermione said,

"Dean was very nervous about meeting Draco's mum because, in his mind, that's your mum, too. He wants to be part of your family and this is the most important part of that process. Narcissa is a terrifying person, so I'm not surprised Dean may find himself a bit at odds with her worldview."

Blaise conceded, "He went shopping for new trousers because he didn't have any he felt were suitable."

"That is a win for us all," replied Hermione. "While you still need to have some uncomfortable conversations,

"What sort of conversations?"

"That you don't know," said Draco, "is why my mother had to do it."

"She's not—" Blaise's eyes went wide with fear. "She would not say something to him to make him leave. She wouldn't do that to me."

Draco leaned back on the bench and stared over at the fountain.

"No, Blaise. She is explaining what it means to marry into wealth. She had this conversation with Astoria before I proposed. If anything, this conversation means she sees the depth of your love for him."

"Oh." Blaise leaned backward and said, "Everyone else wants to be with me for money, now I'm worried about Dean leaving me because I have too much money. Do you remember when I first brought home The Scarlet Steam Engine?"

Draco grinned.

"I do. Scorpius loved it straightaway, and I remember when you Googled Dean Thomas the first time as well. You were so happy to find out he was gay, and devastated to learn he was married. My mother loves you and we all see how comfortable the two of you are together." Draco nudged Blaise's shoulder with his own. "Might even give Bastien a run for best marriage in the group."

"Bastien and his wife are shouting at each other in Bengali at the far end of the garden, so I believe Dean and I might be closer to reaching them than we were yesterday."

Hermione sighed.

"This is my weekend; I am finished playing relationship therapist."

Draco agreed, "I feel the same."

"Oh," Blaise turned to face Draco and asked, "Who must I ask to get more soap in our bathroom?"

.oOo.

The afternoon saw several departures. Weasley left, Lovegood left, and Harry Potter departed after a rousing discussion with his son. He agreed to let Albus stay another night if Hermione would drive him home the following afternoon. While that meant one less day with Hermione, Scorpius would have another day with his best friend. What sort of father would deny his son that friendship?

A shit father.

Lucius Malfoy.

All seventeen Malfoys before him, most likely.

Draco tucked Albus and Scorpius into bed that evening. Albus had seemed rather shy around Draco, but as he stood to leave, Albus shouted after him.

"Mr. Malfoy!"

Draco turned around and walked back to the bed. He asked,

"Yes?"

"When I got here, I was scared. Your house looks scary on the outside."

Draco smiled and conceded, "That was rather the point."

"But you're really nice to me, and to my dad. My dad's been scared for a long time and he's not scared here. So if my dad's not scared, I'm not scared. It makes me happy to see my dad smile, so thank you for giving my dad a scary place to not be scared and to be happy."

Draco's heart warmed the slightest bit. What a kind thing for a child to see, even if he bungled the wording. Perhaps Scorpius was more similar to his best friend than he let on.

"You're welcome. Though, I think the house is less scary because Scorpius is in it."

"He's my best friend. Thanks for letting me stay."

"Anything for Scorpius's best friend. Now, you both have good dreams, alright?"

Scorpius grinned as Draco turned out the light.

"Promise, dad!"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy!"

Draco closed the door behind him, but left it cracked just a bit to hear their whispered conversation.

Your dad is nice.

He's happy now. Hermione makes him smile.

Draco smiled softly as he pulled the door fully closed. He made his way down the hall to his own room, thinking about how little more than one day had seemed to push his friends apart only to bring them closer together. He opened the door to find Hermione standing in his room. He teased,

"My bed tonight?"

"If you'll have me."

"Without question, golden girl." Draco nodded to that familiar bright red hoodie and pyjama bottoms. "I quite like this look on you."

"I—"

Draco gently backed her into the wall and kissed her, both hands on her face, begging for one more chance. He wanted this intimacy with her in a desperate way, far more desperately than he ever felt for Astoria. Not that Hermione was better than his wife, but this love was so much more difficult. Everything about Tori had been easy, while everything about Hermione was deeper. Draco felt in his core that this was his last opportunity, if he bailed again Hermione would not give him another chance. Hell, if he bailed again he did not deserve another chance. Draco stepped back to say,

"I am ready for this, if you'll have me."

"Yes. When I was with Viktor—"

Jealousy worked its way from Draco's chest down to his stomach and landed somewhere between his thighs. Krum had taken the insecurity away from her when Draco should have been there. He should have been trustworthy enough, and he wasn't. He let her go and damn well didn't plan to do it again.

"—there was a pain in my left shoulder. I need you to be very careful with it."

Draco nodded.

"I will let you on top of me, but I need you to keep your weight off that shoulder."

"I will do that."

"My neck doesn't move to the right, which is your left. It can, but when it comes to sex I need you to act like it doesn't move that direction at all."

"Understood."

"And my left arm still doesn't move more than halfway up."

"Is there anything I should know about your legs?" asked Draco.

"No." Hermione revealed, "There is a lot of scarring on the left one, but there was no permanent internal damage."

"Right. Now, is there anything else I should know? The moment I get my mouth on your tits, Hermione, all brain function will be directly subservient to my dick. It's best to get these things in beforehand."

Hermione laughed and replied, "I suppose there's no time to waste, then."

She pulled down the zip and pushed the hoodie off her shoulders. Draco held his breath as she pushed down her pyjama bottoms and kicked them aside to reveal what she'd been hiding from everyone all these years.

"I knew if I didn't do that right now, I wouldn't do it at all."

Draco's eyes were instinctively drawn to Hermione's tits. Her bra was simple, black, one that fastened at the front. Draco guessed she could no longer fasten anything in the back. Her knickers were nearly waist-high, and the scarring along the outer portion of her left leg was very different from the tortured skin of her arm. It was slightly mottled, a bit raised, but generally the same colour as the skin around it. Her right thigh was covered by a series of very thin, faint bisecting lines.

"Would you say something, please?"

Draco looked up to see a rather impatient, self-conscious expression on Hermione's face.

"Anything."

"There is something so safe about seeing a woman who has been through all this. I lost my wife because her body failed us. To me, these scars mean I don't have to worry about losing you."

"I can tell you mean that."

Draco reached forward and unfastened her bra. He pushed the cups to either side and smiled down at the most beautiful, perfectly round pair of tits. The skin around her nipples was perfectly proportioned, circular, and her nips were beginning to poke out ever so slightly. It took far too much willpower to keep from grabbing Hermione by the waist and latching his mouth onto her tits.

"No more limitations to note?"

"None."

Draco bent to take one nipple between his lips. Hermione laughed and placed one hand on the back of his head to hold him close. He palmed her other tit as Hermione ran her hand up the back of his neck and into his hair. He pushed her tit up the slightest bit, cradling it between his thumb and forefinger while Hermione's hands moved up and down his arms without finding purchase. Draco pulled back and looked Hermione in the eyes to find nothing there but humour and excitement. A sense of we are really doing this as Draco pushed her bra fully off her shoulders.

Draco leaned in for another kiss, wordlessly promising he was ready. No pushing her away this time, his heart was open and hers for the taking. Hermione placed her hands on either side of his face, pulling him closer. Next thing he knew, she was fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. She managed to unfasten one before Draco pressed a couple fingers against her clit. She sighed and dropped her hands as Draco fell to his knees. He tugged the top hem of her knickers down to press a gentle kiss against the swell of her belly. Hermione's breath stuttered, she pushed her hips toward him instinctively, stomach rolling, tits pushed out then falling with her as she leaned back against the bedroom wall.

He pressed his open palm over of her stomach and looked at it a moment, astounded he nearly covered her side-to-side, from the bottom of her stomach to the underside of her breasts. God, she was so small, and incredibly fearless. Draco placed his hands on her hips and pressed his lips to that same spot, where her stomach was softest. He kissed his way up her abdomen then stood to kiss her on the mouth. Draco's hands were on her tits, though he couldn't remember putting them there. He could do nothing but play with Hermione's tits until the end of time and die a happy man. Hermione had her right arm around his neck, the left searching for purchase along his back and finding none, eventually settling on his hip.

Hermione grabbed Draco by the collar and pulled him into a kiss, tangling her fingers in his hair. Draco placed his hand on the back of her head and answered with enthusiasm, kissing, breaking apart to breathe, then meeting her lips again. She pulled away and palmed his dick. Draco closed his eyes and cradled the back of her head, focusing on the confidence of her grip overtop his trousers. She was always self-conscious about that hand, hiding it, but Hermione worked him up with a self-assuredness Draco was surprised and all too happy to bring out in her. Hermione's right hand moved to his back and just as he felt himself begin to rise, Hermione dropped her hold. She went to work unfastening the remaining buttons of Draco's shirt, dodging his kisses as she went. Hermione smiled and eventually granted him a single kiss before using her right arm to push his sweater up toward his shoulders. Draco pulled the sweater over his head then tossed the shirt onto the floor.

Hermione wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in so they were nearly chest-to-chest and oh. Something in Draco's brain snapped when Hermione's tits were pressed flat against him. He leaned down so their foreheads were nearly touching and said,

"I don't think I knew how much I loved you until now."

Hermione huffed a laugh, hardly able to catch her breath.

"Happy to know my tits live up to expectations."

"Exceeds expectations."

Draco kissed her gently as she tugged his trousers down low on his hips. His hands were on her waist, nudging the sides of her breasts, noting the softness of her skin, fingertips trailing along the curves. Draco pressed his fingers against her clit as they continued snogging. The sounds of their bodies together in the quiet of his bedroom were obscene. Not just the smacking of hurried, anxious kisses, but the dull thunk of Hermione's elbow hitting the wall when she tried to pull Draco toward her. There was something naughty about their feet shuffling on the wood floor as they each fought for balance. Draco felt himself heating up, as this skill set didn't seem quite as far out of reach as he previously believed.

Hermione unfastened his trousers and pulled down the zip. She pushed his trousers below his bum, gave one cheek a quick squeeze, and looked down to see his dick at half-mast. She took it between her fingers and said,

"You are absolutely perfect."

Draco tucked some of her hair behind one ear and teased, "Happy to know my cock lives up to expectations."

Hermione blushed and shook her head. She continued to stroke him as he teased her clit. The tension grew between them as they each worked the other up. Hermione dropped her hold on Draco and began to take deep, shallow breaths. She leaned forward and gripped his waist, his shoulder, moaning. Draco recognized what was happening before Hermione did. She breathed heavily as a small orgasm worked its way through her. She had one hand overtop Draco's and pressed down, rolling her hips into his touch.

Hermione leaned back onto the wall once it passed, and Draco took the opportunity to tug her knickers further down and consider that part of her. She hadn't done much tidying up; there was a coarse trail of hair from the bottom of her navel down toward the dark curls covering her cunt. Curls that peeked out on either side of the crotch. Draco hummed softly to himself,

"That's rather hot."

Hermione leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She sighed,

"I've come before you even have your cock fully out of your trousers."

Hermione pushed herself off the wall, grabbed Draco by the chin, and turned his face toward her. She pushed his hair out of his face and looked him in the eyes to say,

"I love you, too."

Then she pulled him into the filthiest open-mouthed kiss he could remember. Draco grabbed her bum to pull her close, eyes closed, lost in the feel of her. Hermione pushed his trousers a bit further down his thighs then walked him backward until the backs of his thighs met the edge of the bed. Draco opened his eyes as he sat down, just in time to watch Hermione clamber on top of him. She straddled his thighs; Draco leaned back and allowed himself to be snogged senseless. Hermione's hands were on the back of his head, in his hair, on his back … Draco absentmindedly rubbed one of her nipples between two fingers as she pulled back. Her lips were inches away but before Draco could lean forward, she began working her fist around his dick. Hermione tugged his foreskin up and down, watching it eclipse the tip just to reveal it again. Draco had one hand under her thigh to keep her steady and—

Hermione pulled her knickers aside, lifted herself up, then pushed Draco's cock inside her. Draco grabbed her bum and let out a low, satisfied breath. A couple ups and downs later, they found a rhythm. It felt fanfuckingtastic to be inside a woman again. The damp heat of her cunt was a familiar sensation, but it was Hermione Granger's cunt. This woman whose skin was mucked up beyond imagining, whose bones survived a bomb, a woman who could defend someone at trial in four languages. What the hell he did to deserve this good fortune, Draco would never understand.

Both his hands were on Hermione's backside as she rolled her hips, lifting herself up and down. Draco shimmied until his trousers were down around his ankles. Hermione's tits pressed against his clavicles as he leaned back and she rode closer and closer to her second orgasm. Both her arms were around his neck and Draco let her take what she wanted. This one was her show.

Draco felt Hermione's internal muscles clench down as her hips stuttered. She moaned louder this time, a needy, "Uuungh." Draco held her by the bum as she pulled him close. "Haah, haah, haaaph." Hermione let out one final, "Ooh." Draco ran his hands along her sides as she continued to ride out the aftershocks. Slow repetitive little rocks back and forth as Draco studied her skin with his fingers.

Her right arm was very dry and smooth, purple ridges that formed all the way up to her shoulder, her clavicle, then up toward her neck. A blessing that this injury had spared her tits all those years ago. Her bum was smooth, they must not have taken much skin from that part of her. Those faint lines on her right thigh were quite obviously scars from a scalpel, performed by a very trained hand. There were two small chunks missing from Hermione's left tricep and a curiously normal bit of skin along the top of her elbow. Draco looked at her left clavicle to see almost no trace of a scar there. A faint strip of skin that was a bit too smooth, but not otherwise noteworthy. Certainly not in comparison to the rest of—

Hermione placed her hands on either side of Draco's neck and looked him briefly in the eyes before squeezing her own eyes shut. Draco could hardly believe it was happening again so quickly as she tugged on his hair at the roots. Her tits bounced gently as she leaned back, those quick, tiny breaths quickly turning into, "Oh, ooh, ooh oooh." Draco lifted her up and down on his dick, gently gripping her waist, watching those tits bounce until she let out a throaty, "Oh, God, yes!"

He held her in place as her body shook. The fat on the inner half of her thighs trembled as she sank lower, unable to completely support herself. Draco pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder and waited until Hermione turned his face up toward her and kissed him as if to say thank you. Before Draco could even form a reply, Hermione lifted herself off his cock, then off of him entirely. She knelt between his legs and tugged the trousers and socks off in one go. Draco shook his head, knowing what she had planned, but there was nothing that could've prepared him for the sight of Hermione Granger's lips around his cock.

Draco tossed his head back and moaned.

"That's better than any fantasy I've ever had."

She took her time about it. Hermione used her left hand to work his cock as she sucked, her right hand reaching up toward his chest. She teased one nipple then spread her fingers wide across the centre of his chest and slowly worked her hand downward. Draco leaned back even more, still balanced on his elbows as he concentrated on the damp heat of Hermione's mouth around the head of his cock. Her lips made an obscene smacking sound when she pulled back to breathe and he pushed his hips up to follow her. Draco hummed,

"Fuck yes, golden girl."

She cupped his bollocks with her left hand and flattened her tongue against the underside of his dick. He whispered, Ohhhngh, as she licked from the base to the tip. Then she leaned up to kiss him, bent at the waist, tits hanging down, and he was lost. Everything else about life melted away and there was nothing but Hermione's bum, Hermione's tits, and her lips and that trail of hair leading down to the cunt he'd yet to see. Draco pulled her knickers down over her bum then pushed them down to her ankles. Hermione shimmied out and stepped backward.

"Burnt arm aside, pretty good?" she asked.

Draco shook his head in disbelief, knowing he'd never be able to watch the news again. Not without thinking of those perfect tits, and the way she still held herself with the sort of confidence he saw on BBC four times a week.

"If you did the news topless, I think we'd solve a lot more problems in international relations. Turn around, for me?"

Hermione obliged and Draco pressed a kiss to her tailbone before kissing his way up her spine. Hermione's breaths were deeper, more sure of something. Draco gently palmed her tits, then slowly dragged his fingertips along her sides until his hands rested on her hips. He guided her backside down and backward onto his lap. He placed his cock inside her, then watched Hermione sit back a bit before straightening herself out. She rolled her hips, trying to get comfortable. Draco watched her for a full minute, round bum in his face and her mass of hair bouncing along with them, but he couldn't see the best bits of her.

Once Hermione found an angle that suited her, Draco could do nothing but watch, and reach out to place one hand on her stomach to ensure she was steady. He sat up and moved his hand from her stomach to her tits as Hermione slowed her pace. She placed her hand over his and leaned back, as Draco kneaded the fullest parts of her breast.

It wasn't intimate enough. It wasn't enough. He waited for Hermione to fully settle into his arms before pulling out. Draco stood up and said,

"Your turn, golden girl. On the bed."

Hermione perched on the edge while Draco grabbed one of the pillows. He placed it at her shoulder blades, ensuring they were even, then asked,

"Is this good?"

She nodded and asked, "Is this where you want me?"

"Legs spread on my bed?" Draco teased, "This is always where I want you."

Hermione laughed then parted her thighs. Draco knelt between her legs and glanced quickly down before meeting her gaze.

"You might as well lean back and enjoy; I don't know whether I will find it in myself to so much as come up for air."

Hermione balanced the pillow properly between her shoulders, closed her eyes, and her whole body relaxed. Draco was as hard as he'd ever been in his life, grateful that this was one bit he certainly hadn't forgotten how to do. He leaned forward to press the tip of his tongue against her clit for the briefest moment and watch as Hermione's thighs parted even more, as if to say, This is your show now. Draco pushed his hair out of the way and began working her clit gently with his tongue. He placed two fingers inside her, pushing gently down, as Hermione reached forward to pull him closer by the back of his head. She pushed his hair back and rolled her hips upward. Draco slowly began thrusting his fingers inside and out, teasing her clit, then pulling back to tease it with a gentle rush of cool air.

The back-and-forth, the slow tease was what Hermione seemed to enjoy. Her breaths were even and punctuated by tiny aahs. She rolled her hips again, and again, so Draco began thrusting his fingers toward the top of her cunt. Hermione responded instinctively, pulling his face flush against her, his brow pressing against the underside of her belly.

Hermione gripped at the duvet with her good arm and tugged on Draco's hair with her left. He might never breathe again, and it would be worth it. Those even breaths quickly became staggered as Hermione's body hummed with a sudden tension. She bent her right knee and pressed her toes against his left shoulder. Draco pressed his tongue flat against her clit and moved his fingers rapidly inside her cunt until she came with a satisfied hmm and her hands on either side of Draco's face. He removed his fingers but continued to tease her clit with the tip of his tongue until she patted his cheek and said,

"I can be on my back for the next bit."

Draco popped up and asked, "Are you sure?"

Hermione sat up and nodded. She said,

"That was so good I can barely feel my legs. They're like liquid, I don't think I could stand for a moment."

"One of the highest compliments you can give a man." Draco grinned. "Shall I move the pillow?"

Hermione nodded and confirmed, "You might need to move me, too."

Draco grabbed the pillow and positioned it in front of another, giving Hermione plenty of support behind her. He made for the nightstand and pulled a condom from the drawer, opened it, then rolled it over his cock with embarrassingly shaky hands. God, he was so anxious for this. Sex with Hermione. Making Hermione come well enough she couldn't stand up. Finishing inside Hermione?

Fucking hell.

He pulled Hermione backward by the waist until her shoulders were resting against the pillow. She looked up at him with hooded, satisfied eyes. He asked,

"Good?"

Hermione confirmed, "Perfect."

Draco wasted no time climbing onto the bed and situating himself between her legs. He braced himself on either side of her shoulders as she pulled him into a kiss. It was a bit awkward, with her not quite able to bend at the neck in a way that was comfortable for either of them, but it was damn well good enough. Hermione pulled him closer by the waist and sighed when Draco reentered.

Goddamn, she felt perfect. Fuck. Draco leaned forward so they were chest-to-chest, bracing himself with one arm under her left and his other hand against the headboard. He was lost in the wet heat of her cunt, thrust his hips forward as if he could go any deeper. The long, throaty moans coming from Hermione Granger were the dirtiest, most desperate sounds he'd ever heard. She wrapped her right leg around his backside to keep him close, grabbed the hair at the base of his neck and gave it a tiny tug.

Draco let out a garbled, "FUCK." He slowed for a moment only to lift himself up the slightest bit and snog her senseless before pounding into her again. And again. And again. It wasn't enough. He placed his hand on her neck, cradling her face, wordlessly begging for her to make those sounds again. He snapped his hips faster as she seemed to be getting close and he needed her to come once more, just one more time so he could keep those sounds embedded like art on the walls of his brain. When life seemed impossible, he could close his eyes and remember that he made Hermione Granger sound just … like …

This.

She gripped his shoulder and her toes curled into the duvet. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she came and Draco felt her cunt tighten around his cock. It was the tiny shudder that rippled through her tits as she came that did him in. He balanced himself on his elbows and thrust once more, twice, and came as hard as he ever had. Perhaps it was well over six years without sex, maybe it was the unforeseen rapid return of his libido, or maybe it was just that Hermione Granger had found a depth of Draco he hadn't known was there. But there was something about this woman underneath him that had Draco Malfoy spinning in all the right directions.

When he finally opened his eyes, Hermione was snogging him so gently. Draco wanted nothing except to hold onto her and this moment. A moment they both feared would never happen. He felt there should be music in the background, a triumphant string score signaling that their romance had, in fact, made it to this point. Hermione ran her hands up and down his arms and Draco bent low to press their foreheads together.

"You're turning my world upside-down, Granger."

Hermione was breathing heavily and smiled before leaning up to steal a quick kiss.

"I think you are the reason my world keeps turning at all."