62.

At home, Hermione showered and changed – into lacy black Brazilian knickers and a matching bra beneath her black trench-coat dress, tamed her hair into loose curls with the aid of Sleekeazy's and a hair dryer, and collected the little gift bag with Malfoy's cuff-links in it. And then she slid on heels, slung her hand bag over her shoulder, and walked through to the garage, leaving the house locked up tight, wards all in place. It was oddly sad, as she stood in the doorway with only the hallway light still on, the rest of the house cast in darkness. No doubt she'd spend nights here occasionally until it sold, but she didn't think she'd ever live here again. They'd raised the children here, she and Ron. There were so many memories.

They would've moved anyway, she told herself, and it was true. Now that Muggle school zoning no longer mattered, they likely would've bought some nice bungalow in a village with more of a wizarding presence, and a big garden. It would be a shame to move away from Rose and Hugo's Muggle friends, but they only saw them in the holidays anyway; it would be difficult but not impossible to have them stay for several days in the holidays. Or drop the children off at their friends' houses, using magic. Her mind spun absently over the options.

Hermione sighed, and flicked the hallway light off and shut the door, standing in the darkened garage and shutting her eyes, picturing Malfoy's house. She arrived with a crack on the doorstep and knocked on the door. She needed a key. He opened it swiftly – she had texted him she'd be over soon – and she ran her eyes over him hungrily. Hair slightly mussed and eyes warm, he wore a pale grey shirt with the sleeves turned back and black dress trousers, his feet in socks. There were little Minnie Mouses all over the socks. Hermione grinned.

"Are those new?" She bypassed hello, pointing down. He looked downward, and gave a rueful laugh, wiggling his toes before he stepped aside and ushered Hermione in, dropping a light kiss on her cheek.

"Yes. A Christmas present from Scorpius. He bought a pack of novelty socks at Disneyland, apparently. He seems determined to ridicule me through my clothing." Malfoy was smiling though, warm and pleased, and Hermione smiled back.

"It's sweet."

"It is," he agreed as he shut the door behind them. "And I enjoy how it irritates my father. He thinks it's undignified for a Malfoy."

"Oh it is, very," Hermione said, kicking off her shoes and following him into the sitting room, putting her things on the coffee table, beside two glasses and a bottle of dessert wine. "That's why I like it."

He shot her a wry look as they settled on the settee together, she sitting sideways with her legs tucked up, and he slid his hand over her calf, biting his lip, his eyes fixed and glazed as he slowly slid her dress up to reveal the tops of her thighs. Her nerves tingled, a sudden awareness springing to life beneath her skin, his hand warm and faintly rough.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, although she thought she already knew. Malfoy grinned as he drew his hand back and leaned forward pouring wine for them both, at her nod. A drink would be lovely.

"I'm thinking that you look beautiful. And also about what you sent me this morning," he said. "The best Christmas present I've ever gotten. And which made lunch with my parents very awkward, actually." He passed her a glass of wine. "I kept thinking about the video of you, with your wet pussy right there –" she blushed, hiding her face.

"God, don't say it."

"So you'll do that, but you're too shy to talk about it?"

"Yes!" Somehow it was embarrassing in a way his stories weren't – perhaps because she'd actually done it, and despite what he said, she kept thinking that she hadn't looked sexy or appealing. She worried she looked awkward. Clumsy, and pudgy. He gave her a bemused smile.

"Alright. Fine. You strange witch. Well, I kept thinking about that. Particularly the video. And the one with the tie." He raised a brow, as if checking that wasn't too graphic a description. Hermione blushed again, but nodded for him to go one. "It was very hard." He paused. "Literally."

Hermione snickered.

He glared. "I was sitting at the table with my parents and child, erect on Christmas Day, thanks to you. It was excruciatingly uncomfortable."

"Oh. Well," she said innocently. "Perhaps you'll have to punish me for that too, then."

The way his expression instantly changed made her smirk rather smugly, pleased with herself as she eyed him over her wine. His pupils dilated even as his eyes narrowed, his gaze suddenly intense as he set his glass of wine down, not taking his eyes off her. "What, exactly, do you mean by that?"

"Remember? We agreed you would have to punish me, for comparing you to Ron." She slid one leg out, laying it over his lap, and he slid his hands up it appreciatively, fingertips of his left hand sliding lightly over the silky crotch of her knickers, and the sensitivity of her vulva heightened markedly. His eyes had difficulty rising from her exposed thigh, but when he did meet her gaze he looked rapt. Like she'd given him another Christmas present, she thought, amused.

"I thought you were just…flirting. I didn't really think –"

Hermione smirked, trying to look confident instead of nervous. She and Ron hadn't really done any kind of role-play. "I mean, I was serious," she teased, "but we don't have to if you don't –"

"Oh no, I want to," he interrupted swiftly, his voice low and his expression suddenly darkly contemplative, posture shifting as though he were about to pounce on her. Hermione set her wine down, fearing it was about to go flying.

"We should have a safe word," she said suddenly, remembering to mention that before he leaped on her. "In case I want you to stop."

He looked at her, bewildered. "Would 'stop' not work?"

"Well, what if I wanted to struggle a bit?" She licked her lips, looking down at his hand, his fingers splayed over her thigh. "What if I wanted to pretend I wanted you to stop? Then we'd need another word if I actually wanted you to stop."

His pupils positively swamped his eyes as he processed that, and seemed to like the idea, his fingers flexing on her leg. "Merlin, Granger, you blush over me saying something about your pretty pussy, and then you suggest things like that?" he said, slightly strangled. Then: "How about Christmas? For a safe word?"

"That sounds good." Hermione felt breathless, her blood singing in her veins and her pulse racing. "And – and just don't do it too hard. Or I'll Christmas you, and I'd rather not have to do that."

He snorted. "Christmas me," he muttered, standing. "Just tell me if it is," he said, standing, using magic to slide the coffee table back further before dropping his wand onto it, turning to look at her, still curled up on the settee. "No need for the safe word."

"But you can't just do whatever I say, or –" she broke off, looking at him helplessly. She wished she'd done what she would usually do, and researched how to handle this beforehand, rather than going in blind based on snippets of information she'd picked up from Merlin only knew where.

"Just about how hard I spank you then," he said. "Nothing else. Yes?"

"Yes."

"Good." He gestured. "Get up then." His voice was subtly different. Hard. Predatory. It sent a frisson of excitement slithering down Hermione's spine and she gulped as she pushed to her feet. "And take your dress off. I want you in nothing but pants for this," he ordered and whipped his belt off, tossing it aside before he sat back on the settee, arms draped along the back as he looked up at her. She paused a second, suddenly self-conscious. Arousal was humming and thrumming through her already, but she was nervous.

"Go on," he said. He looked up at her, head tilted slightly and eyes molten, pinning her under his gaze, a faint flush high on his cheekbones. She gulped. She felt naked already beneath that look. "Strip for me, Granger, so I can give you a good spanking for being so disrespectful." She whimpered despite herself at the way he dragged the words off his tongue, and he grinned wickedly. She undid her fabric belt, and began to slowly unbutton, trying to make a seductive show of it. Her heart was pounding, and the brush of her own fingers made her skin tingle.

"For making my Christmas Day so fucking difficult," he went on as she slowly kept unbuttoning, beginning to reveal her bra. "Showing me your sweet, dripping wet cunt, and then not letting me have it immediately. All day, I had to sit there and think about tying you up and then licking you until you came on my tongue, and then fucking you so hard you screamed, and I couldn't." His voice was rough, filled with a very real frustration that edged close to anger, as she reached the button at her hips, and then undid her cuffs. She drew her arms out, and the dress clung to her hips for a moment before gravity dragged it down and left her standing in black lace.

"Oh fuck, look at you." His eyes moved over her slowly, almost like a physical caress, and he bit his lip and adjusted himself before he spoke again. There was a definite tent in his trousers, Hermione noticed, her cheeks hot. "Did you buy those specially for me, Granger? Or are you wearing sexy underwear that you picked with pleasing someone else in mind?" A possessive note crept into his voice. "Because that will earn you extra punishment."

Hermione's mouth was dry, her pulse humming fast, wetness already beginning to seep between her legs. "I could lie," she said, and her voice was quiet, and husky with arousal. She swallowed hard and her throat clicked drily. She didn't know what to do with her hands, flexing them awkwardly at her sides. Malfoy grinned, and it looked more like baring his teeth than amusement.

"But you wouldn't." He looked right through her.

"No. No, I wouldn't." She shifted on her feet. "I bought them the other day. For you." She'd purchased them because she'd been looking for sexy knickers, and seen the high cut Brazilian style that had exposed her bum, and thought of him spanking her in them. And the image that had come into her mind had been unspeakably arousing. Over his lap, squirming, begging for mercy. The idea had never appealed to her before in her life – but then in the past, she hadn't been sleeping with Draco Malfoy.

"Take off your bra," he ordered, exuding an air of total superiority as he sat there, relaxed. As though he owned the room. As though he owned her. Her breath caught as she reached behind her and fumbled with the hooks, her pulse still racing, feeling feverishly hot, her face still flushed as she slid her bra off. She wished her breasts were slightly perkier, or firmer; children had left them soft and not quite as high as fifteen years ago. Malfoy made a soft sound and his eyes gleamed with a hungry want. He clearly didn't care, Hermione told herself.

"Come here," he said, shifting his knees apart, and she obeyed, stepping between them. "Salazar's sake, you're fucking perfect." His hands came up and swept up her sides, from hips to breasts, cupping and lifting them, thumbs rubbing over her nipples. A jolt of arousal shot straight to her core without any preamble – her nerves stimulated and her well-primed body reacting with a pulse of pleasure that thrummed through her, making muscles twitch and nerves sing.

"Hngh," she whimpered involuntarily, and he grinned, shark-like.

"And you're so fun to play with," he said, that dark, hard tone still clear in his voice. Still playing a role. "So responsive." He squeezed her breasts gently, and then met her eyes. "Lean over me," he said, "hands on the back of the settee." She hesitated, thoughts racing – she felt self-conscious about her breasts just hanging down above his face like that – and he tweaked her nipple lightly. A spark of pleasure edging on pain.

"Do as you're told," he said, as if there were no doubt she'd obey, and Hermione took a short, shaky breath and did, already wanting his fingers on her clit. His mouth. But she didn't expect she'd be getting that for a while. His hands moved over her as he let out an utterly contented sigh, skimming her sides again and then his hands cradled her breasts, and his mouth found her right nipple. He bit it, very lightly, then swirled his tongue over it, suckling gently at first, tongue pressing it against the roof of his mouth and she let out a shaky, whimpering moan. And then he sucked properly, and hard, and Hermione tensed and moaned again as an aching pleasure wrenched through her, straight through her insides to between her legs.

She pressed her thighs together and made another shaky noise. He grinned around her nipple and then let it go, before repeating the whole process on the right one. By the time Malfoy was done she was shaking slightly from holding herself brace over him, her nipples were sensitive and tender, and verging on sore, and she was pressing her thighs together and tensing in search of some kind of stimulation. It wasn't enough, but Hermione was desperate. "Please," she murmured when he slid his hand over the outside of her thigh, as though he'd noticed what she was doing.

And then Malfoy's fingers slid around onto the curve of her bum, and his eyes widened slightly. "Stand up and turn around for me," he said, hand falling away from her arse. He let go as she straightened, and then as she turned, he took a sharp breath, and let it out on an, "Oh…" His hands gripped her bare arse properly, and squeezed. "What kind of pants are these? Because I love them. I won't even have to take your knickers off to spank you."

"That's why I bought them," Hermione admitted, and he made a sound low in the back of his throat.

"Fuck, that's so sexy," he said as if in awe. "You bought knickers just for me to spank you in them?"

Hermione felt both embarrassed and turned on as his hands kept mapping her arse. "Yes," she whispered, and he made an almost-groan and then bit her on the bum, a sucking nip. She yelped even though it didn't really hurt, just startled her. His hands seized her hips, holding her still, and she thought perhaps he was laughing. And then he kissed where he'd bitten, and licked it, sending tingles buzzing up her spine and making her try to wriggle, shivering. He loosened his hold and let her, and then made a pleased, humming sound.

"Your arse jiggles a little when you wiggle, did you know that?"

"Sorry," she apologised automatically, biting the inside of her cheek and wondering suddenly about cellulite, and dimples, and her bum just not being toned enough. He kissed it again though, his hands warm as he slid them over her arse, thumbs rubbing gently across her skin.

"Fuck, don't apologise, Granger. I love it. And I want it over my lap now. You're distracting me from what we're here for." He slapped her bum lightly. "Your punishment."

Hermione felt clumsy and awkward as she climbed over his lap, draping herself over his thighs. But then she was settled across him, and his right hand was on the back of her neck, gentle but deliberate. There was no force to the touch, but the message was clear; stay. She could feel his cock, a hard bar pressing against her hip. His left hand smoothed down her back and over her bum, before his fingers delved between her thighs. "Spread your legs, just a little," he ordered. She did, and then she felt his fingers over the crotch of her knickers, pressing against her vulva, and oh she felt so sensitive and hot and swollen. And getting wet.

He could feel it, surely. She knew he must – the heat and the beginnings of slickness. His fingers all but pushed the scanty gusset of her knickers between the dampening folds of her vulva, sliding his fingertips over the material and up to her clitoris. One finger tapped a firm little beat against her clit – she whimpered and wriggled against it – and then he slid his fingers back, over her vulva, before resting his hand over her bum. Her breath was coming short. Her whole body was thrilling with anticipation and arousal, skin feeling tight and goosebumps shivering over her, her clit aching – demanding – to be properly rubbed.

"How many, do you think?" he asked, smooth and dangerous, his hand moving again, sliding over her bum and then down between her legs, and then back up, again and again, his other hand on her neck the whole time. "You compared me to Weasley. That has to be at least ten. And then you teased me all fucking day, and drove me crazy. Which is surely another ten."

"Five," Hermione gasped, playing the game. Trying to negotiate, even though she didn't really care if it were fifteen or twenty. She knew he wouldn't hurt her. But she could still feel his cock, pushing against her hip. She wanted it in her, filling her deliciously, stretching her around him. And a shorter spanking meant that would happen faster. "Five for – for the photos." He huffed a laugh.

"Five, you think? Why is that?" His fingers moved between her legs, and now she could really feel how wet her knickers were getting. He rubbed over her clit, in firm little circles, and side to side, and she moaned, pushing against his touch.

"I – I was trying to do something nice," she panted.

"Well, I suppose you were," he allowed. "Fine then, five." His hand kept moving. Over her exposed bum cheeks, fingers trailing lightly, and then pushing down firmly between her thighs. Over her knickers, and the fabric slid in her slickness now, and slipped between her labia. She whimpered, cheeks flaming, embarrassed for some reason as he hissed a breath. "Merlin, you're getting so nice and wet. Alright, Granger. Fifteen then. Ready?"

"N-no." Time to pretend, she thought. Her breath came in sharp little drags, her heart thundering.

"No? Well, too bad. You'll take your punishment like you agreed to."

"N-no. No, I won't," she said, her struggles to get away deliberately ineffective as she wriggled and tried to scramble off him, feet pushing against the settee and hands grabbing at the seat. But she was fairly well stranded over his lap even if her struggles had been genuine. "You can't make me," she gasped as she tried to escape, squirming backwards off him but his right hand gripped her neck firmly, his left grabbing her left thigh, and then she was pinned. She kept trying for a moment longer, hips wiggling and free right leg kicking pointlessly, pushing at his thigh with her hands.

Nothing happened except that her knickers wedged themselves firmer between her slippery-slick folds – both irritating and stimulating – and his cock rubbed against her hip, and he inhaled sharply.

"I can," he said, a tightness in his voice that she thought was from arousal. "I can, and I will. And if you struggle, I'll make it thirty." He slapped her on the thigh, and it stung sharply, and she moaned. The sudden, unexpected small pain high on her thigh, and the reverberations it sent through her flesh, felt shockingly good. Hermione had wanted to try doing this at least once after Malfoy mentioned it, but she hadn't expected it to feel so good. And that was just her thigh.

"Oh," he said, and a pleased amusement joined the arousal in his voice. "I see. " She lay very obediently still as he slid his hand up to her bum. And then he spanked her, sharply and firmly, and she bit her lip and moaned again. "Fuck, Granger, that's so hot," he breathed, and then spanked her again, slightly harder, her bum jiggling a little and the pleasure ricocheting through her, blooms of it unfurling in her core and overwhelming the edge of pain.

"A – a little harder," Hermione gasped, hand clutching at the settee cushion. She wanted her bum to go all pink and rosy, like Malfoy had said in his fantasy, and she didn't think he was doing it quite hard enough, too afraid of hurting her.

"Shut your mouth, Granger. I'll do it as hard as I want," he said, and then did as she wanted and spanked her harder, twice. She gasped, desperate now for his fingers to slide back down over her vulva and rub over her clit, but instead he spanked her again, and this time she yelped. Her skin felt hot and glowing. "That's five." He rubbed his hand over her bum, and hummed. "Oh yes, it's getting all nice and pink now. Only ten more. A third of the way there, Granger."

"Mmph," she said breathlessly, her face against the settee.

"I'm not sure how much of a punishment it is though. You seem to be enjoying it too much," Malfoy said and spanked her again and she whimpered, arching her back and sticking her bum in the air. He laughed, and spanked her twice more, and pleasure and that sharp, fleeting pain burst through her, and she whimpered. By the time he was finally done with the fifteen she was moaning and squirming on him, and honestly ready for it to be over, impatient for more. He seemed equally impatient.

Malfoy pulled her knickers aside, his fingers sliding over slick flesh, pushing easily into her cunt, and Hermione made a strangled sound and her hips arched up. Her bum felt like it was deliciously on fire, and the rest of her felt just as hypersensitive. "Oh God." He fucked her slow, fingers curling and pressing inside her, finding all the places and angles that dragged throaty groans out of her, helpless. "I want – I want to come," she gasped, lifting her head, "and then I want you to fuck me. Please."

"That –" His fingers twisted in her and she made an animal sound "– can be arranged," he said, strain in his voice. "But you stay where you are." And then he kept fucking her with his fingers, firm and exquisite. "Fuck, you're amazing," he said, enraptured, as he pushed in a third finger and Hermione wailed, bum lifting up again as he curled his fingers inside her. Oh God, it was so much.

"Too much," she gasped, but then when his fingers immediately slid out of her, she felt empty. She wanted his cock. Now. But she also very much wanted to come. "Want your cock," she went with in the end, begging, lust-drunk and incoherent. "Please, Malfoy. I want your cock. Please."

"No," he said, hand firming on her neck, and she wished she could see his face, because he sounded like the words were an effort. He sounded halfway to wrecked in fact, his voice rough and hard as he yanked her knickers halfway down her thighs. "You're going to come for me first. Over my lap, on my fingers, very obediently, like a good girl. And then I'll fuck your greedy little cunt." And then his perfect, wonderful fingers slid over her clit and began to rub, pleasure sparking and bursting through her, and she decided she would wait for his cock, just until she came.

It took longer than Hermione would've thought, and several times she nearly lost her patience as Malfoy played with her, only for him to hold her still and plunge two fingers back into her, fucking her with them slowly and deeply. He took his time, making it last, experimenting with different touches, and when she finally, finally came it wrenched through her almost violently, the culmination of what felt like at least half an hour of teasing, edging, and delicious torture. Bliss crashed through her hard, wringing her out, and then she was boneless and limp over him, panting against the settee cushions, sweat a faint dew over her skin as heat radiated off her.

"Come on Granger," he said, sitting her up with an easy heft and then standing – the quick movement leaving her wobbling as she sat there staring up at him dazedly. "My turn." Malfoy stripped her knickers the rest of the way down her legs, shed his shirt, and then unbuttoned his trousers and shoved them and his boxers down, his cock springing free, hard and thick. She bit her lip. He sat back down and the cushions dented beneath her, tipping her back towards him. Neatly he took hold of her as she toppled, settling her so she straddled his lap, his hands cradling her tender bum.

Hermione sank down onto his cock with a bliss-filled moan, her breasts pressed to his chest and her face buried against the crux of his neck and shoulder. Pleasure bloomed through her hot and perfect as he pushed his hips up and pulled her down, hard, a groan shuddering out of her throat. Oh Merlin, he felt so fucking good. She rose and fell on him quick and rhythmic, controlled by his grip on her hips, his own snapping up to meet her, and the only sounds were their ragged breathing and her moans, and the little huffs of air he made that were nearly moans as well. Just before he came, he lifted her swiftly up and off him, his hand going from her hip to his cock, finishing himself off.

"Shit," he said afterwards, contemplatively, staring down between them as she sat there, flushed, sweaty, and panting. "I don't know if I pulled out entirely in time."

"It's fine," she said, pushing her wild hair back and then idly dragging a finger through the spatter of cum across his abdomen. "I'm sure I'm doing the contraceptive charm correctly, now."

"Did you just draw a heart with my cum?" he asked in bemusement, looking down at the glistening residue on his stomach.

"Well. Not a very good one," she said, smiling and kissing him before she slithered off him. "Merry Christmas, Malfoy."

A short time later they were freshly showered, with a contraceptive charm carefully cast, she in one of his t-shirts and plain cotton knickers, and he in his puffskein pyjama trousers and a t-shirt. Her bum was ever so slightly tender, which made her smile ruefully as she sat. It might be a while before she felt the desire to try that again, as fun as it had been in the moment.

Malfoy topped up their barely touched wine, and they finally exchanged their presents. He seemed to appreciate the cuff-links, with their engraved golden snitches, and he gave her an utterly beautiful set of tanzanite earrings that matched her necklace; delicate and undoubtedly horrendously expensive. They swapped amusing stories about how their days had gone – he laughing far too hard at Harry's comment – as they rummaged up an evening snack and ate in the kitchen. And then they fell into bed, exhausted by the day.

Hermione dreamed a messy chaos of different things, all blending one into the other. The only fragment she remembered clearly was the two of them lying on their backs in a field, staring up at the night sky. Only she was dressed as Anne, and he was Gilbert in one of his own Edwardian suits, and they held hands as a meteor shower rained above them. "I don't know what lies around the bend, but I'm going to believe that the best does. It has a fascination of its own, that bend," she quoted conversationally to the sky, and then the moon came hurtling down at them and she woke with a start, breathless, Malfoy's arm snugged around her middle.