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Draco looked down at his forearm; the blood and goo would not scourgify away. It was sticky and gelatinous, bothering Draco immensely. Draco thought back to when the flubber worm breeding cage had exploded on him due to the trainee’s poorly placed Bombarda . Only a shower could remove this mess.
He sighed, placing on his reading glasses and picking up his quill to complete the case report. Several paragraphs in, he heard a knock on his door. Potter stood in the doorway. His face was weary, a five o’clock shadow visible.
“How is the mutated flubber worm case going?” Potter had let himself into the office, shutting the door behind him. He took the seat across from Draco. Once he was no longer standing, he sunk in the chair, and a loud sigh caused his body to melt further into the chair. Potter leaned his head back, closing his eyes.
“Based on you morphing yourself into my chair better than the werewolf case in Scotland?” Draco looked down at his report; he had two sentences left.
“I miss the days when we were partners; we only had to worry about ourselves. It is so hard to lead people; half the time, I just want to do it myself. But there is only one of me, well, two if I count you.” Potter’s eyes were still closed.
Draco hummed in agreement. Having this conversation made Draco feel old. But Potter was right; he was not head Auror with Draco his second for no reason. They were good at what they did; their solve rate was exceptional. They had a strong team below them, but keeping the team strong took work. Both of them were tired. Being an adult was hard…harder than Draco ever thought it would be.
“Ginny wants to get together this weekend. She thinks a pick-up Quidditch game could be fun.” Potter had opened his eyes and had the decency to look at Draco.
“What an elegant way to invite you and your spawn over to my house.” Draco looked pointedly at Potter.
Potter had a sheepish grin on his face. “You do have a regulation-size Quidditch field.”
The kids were in Hogwarts, and all of them were trying out to be on their house teams. Draco was not a seer, but the likelihood that the Potters would be haunting his Quidditch field was high.
“That is true. I will speak with Hermione and see if this weekend will work.” Draco looked back down at the report, ready to start writing.
“Do the thing.” Potter’s head was leaning back against the chair again, almost half asleep.
“You will have to be more specific than that, Potter.” Draco was glaring at him.
“You know the thing…where you and Hermione speak to each other in your minds. Ginny would have just owled - but this is quicker. I have had a stressful month, and the more points I can get, the more stress I will have relieved.” Potter wiggled his eyebrows at Draco.
Draco was unsure how he had become close enough with The Boy Who Ate Food Like Someone Was Stealing It to know about his stress relief activities. He made a face at the Head Auror.
Potter did not take that well. “It is no skin off your back…please, Malfoy.” There was a distinct whine in his voice.
Draco rolled his eyes and opened his mind to his wife. Can Potter, Ginerva, and their offspring join us this weekend for sustenance and Quidditch?
She responded quickly. Of course! We could have dinner alfresco on Saturday night. Can you pick up the cat’s potion on your way home?
Draco looked down at his attire, the flubber worm goop making his suit jacket stiffer than a teenager’s socks.
He growled at Potter. “Saturday night, 4pm.”
Potter grinned, “That wasn’t too hard, was it?”
”You owe me, Potter. I have to stop by Diagon Alley on the way home now. I am covered in slime, and the bloody potion involves a whole ritual.” He continued to glare at Scar Head.
”It is good for you to get out, Malfoy. You are too pale.” Potter stood and let himself out of the office. “Have a good night.”
Draco tried to burn holes into the Head of The Boy Who Showered Infrequently. But the smoke never came.
Draco scribbled out the last two sentences of his report, stifling a yawn. He removed his reading glasses, a new addition that reminded him of the passing years. He had a pair at home that seemed to send shivers down his wife’s spine; the glasses were not all bad. Removing his cloak from the hook, he draped it on his person. He had not worn the cloak on the mission, so it covered most of the goo and blood.
He made his way to the atrium and flooed to Diagon Alley. Longbottom gave him a wave from behind the bar at the Leaky. Draco nodded his head back. Neville put his attention back on the patron in front of him. Draco took out his wand and opened the wall to Diagon Alley.
The bell tinkled above the magical animal shop. The shopkeeper stepped to the counter. “How can I assist you?”
“I am here to pick up the medication for the Granger-Malfoy cat.”
The keeper's eyes had a bored, glazed-over look. “Did you bring the claws of the beast?”
Draco sighed, opening his mind to his wife. They need one of Kraken’s claws.
I sent it over this morning. Tell them it should be in the envelope with my implicit instructions. He could feel Hermione’s sigh through the bond.
“My wife sent over the claw this morning.” Draco was unable to curb the annoyance in his voice; he knew it would not warm this person to him, but it could not be helped after the day he had.
“She must have addressed it wrong. Send it tomorrow, and we can make it then.” The shopkeeper’s bored tone matched their eyes as they drifted around the shop, avoiding eye contact with Draco.
Draco relayed this message to Granger.
Incompetent dolts! I SENT IT, I'm telling you. Make them dig through their post. Kraken is completely out! The shrill inner voice of his wife echoed in his brain. He closed his eyes, a slow exhale of breath leaving him. He felt her blood pressure rising, her attachment to the cat worrisome. It caused his heart to beat as well. He did not fancy a visit to St. Mungos tonight, sending calming thoughts through their bond.
Putting on his most arrogant voice, Draco addressed the shopkeeper again. “Check your mail…please.” The please was an afterthought and reminded him how he used to say Potter in school, the p popping a little too much.
The shopkeeper visibly rolled their eyes, slumping their shoulders, and moved at a glacial pace to the mail tray. Sure enough, a letter with Hermione’s chaotic writing was on top, the bump of the claw visible from the envelope.
Draco plastered a sneer on his face. As the shopkeeper looked at him, their eyes were dull. “Here it is. I will get started on the elixir.”
They stepped behind the curtain with no urgency. Draco was sure they would want to shut the shop soon, but upon checking the store hours saw they were open for another hour. Wonderful. His annoyance must have emanated through the bond.
Can they do it? Her elevated heart rate accompanied her voice in his head.
Yes. He was short in his response.
Not this again. Kraken is a member of this family and needs to be treated accordingly.
Draco grew more annoyed. People always envied their soul bond, but he had not had a significant emotion to himself in nineteen years. Draco covered his face with his hand, focusing on clearing his mind and occluding.
Do not occlude Malfoy. We need to discuss this.
I agree, but it should be in person. This is not productive. Hermione grew silent. He felt her occlude through the bond as well.
That went well. What a lovely day he was having. Draco meandered around the shop, his feet growing tired but finding no seat in the dementor-forsaken place. The dried flubber worm goo was starting to emit a foul odor. It was giving him a headache.
The shopkeeper emerged with a bag in hand. “With the rushed request, the total comes to ten galleons.”
Draco felt his jaw clench. “It was not rushed; we sent the request in this morning -“
The shopkeeper interrupted him. “Per our policy, this order was rushed. I can hold the potion overnight for you to collect tomorrow after discussing your dislike of the policy with the owner.”
Draco snarled at them, pulling out ten galleons and slamming them on the counter.
“Pleasure doing business with you.” The shopkeeper slid the bag across the counter. There was a glint in their grin that assured Draco that the eight-galleon upcharge would fund their drinks tonight.
He grunted, grabbing the bag and exiting the shop. He avoided speaking into Hermione’s mind. They tended to miscommunicate more than was good when speaking in this medium. He was sorely tempted to get a fire whiskey from Longbottom on his way to the floo but decided to head home and sort out the snafu he was in.
Their fight about Kraken, the cat, escalated when he got home. Still seething from his interaction with the shopkeeper, he slammed the potion down on the counter.
“They were able to make it; that is good. No need to bring your sour mood home.” Hermione gave him a sharp look and started fiddling with the potion and summoning the cat food.
“You are just going to have to deal with my sour mood. I have had a shit day, from being covered with flubber worm insides and dealing with that troll of a shopkeeper. The last thing I need is for you to start turning into a banshee.” Draco was fuming. He knew he was being unfair, but Hermione had felt his emotions throughout the day; she knew what a bad day it was.
She leveled a glare at him, “Draco, we have discussed this; just because I can feel how your day went, it is unfair to expect me to understand the reasoning. We still need to communicate.”
He changed tactics. “That potion is just a bunch of pixieshit anyway. It will not help Kraken.”
As if on cue, the old cat sauntered into the room. He really was looking bad; half his hair was missing, and his eyes were clouded over; he was too skinny, his ribs visible. Hermione looked at the cat, big tears forming in her eyes. Draco felt despair and panic through the bond. All his righteous anger and indignation evaporated. He walked over to the witch and wrapped her in his arms. He sent love and comfort through the bond, kissing her on her temple. She wrapped her arms around him, as a few large tears started to fall.
“I know the potion is hogwash.” She sniffled and continued. “But I feel like everything is changing so fast. Scorpius is dating someone that he is being cagey about. I see more and more of my father in Corv every day, and Lyra is starting her second year in September. You need reading glasses, and I found another gray hair today.”
Draco tried to ignore the annoyance he felt at the mention of his reading glasses. His former perfect vision was something he took pride in. Hermione was growing distressed as she spoke, her sad emotions overshadowing his vain ones.
“Remember when we got Kraken? He was tiny. Scorpius and Kraken would get into everything. I can’t let him die. I know it is irrational, but I feel like when he dies, our kids' childhoods die with him.” She buried her head into his chest. “I am not ready to let go, not yet.”
He tightened his hold on her, “What was the name of that awful book? We had to read it every night - The Adventures of Memo and the Kraken ?”
A soft laugh left Hermione's lips. Her inner swot could not allow the misnaming of a book title. Draco’s plan worked; she smiled up at him. “ Mimi and Kraken’s Wild Sea Adventures . Scorpius was a magical pirate for several months. The cat is his enthusiastic sidekick.”
They stood holding each other for several moments, watching the cat try to swallow the food in its dish. Hermione tilted back her head, scrunching her nose, “You smell awful.”
She started pushing him away. “I am surprised it took you this long to notice.”
Performing a shooing motion of her hand, she plugged her nose with her other hand, making her voice stuffy, “Go shower.”
He rushed her, causing her to scream and run from him. He had her in a bear hug, trying to surround her with the stink as much as he could. She shrieked and started poking him in the side to get him off.
“Please stop.” Their intrepid sea adventurer stood at the counter, petting his faithful sidekick, Kraken. The disdain in Scoprius’s voice reminded Draco so much of himself at that age, that he took Hermione’s chin in his fingers and planted a lingering kiss on her lips.
“Ew…” Draco knew an eye roll accompanied his son’s comment. Draco chuckled across the bond, looking into Hermione’s amused eyes when they broke apart, just a moment longer than necessary.
“I am going to go shower.” Draco grabbed a green apple from the fruit bowl, taking a bite as he left the room.
Draco was never one to let an opportunity pass. Later that night, he took advantage of their fight in the form of makeup sex.
Hermione was bent at the hips, her buttocks in the air. Draco loved when she was like this; face pressed against the mattress, spin elongated, cheeks rosy and curls splayed across the bed. He was itching to spank her, to add another imprint to her already red ass. Instead he squeezed her flesh, causing her to squirm under him. Becoming lost in the feel of them together, he sent a wave of pleasure through their bond. She moaned in response, her fists pulling at the sheets. Her pleasure radiated down the bond; he enjoyed this aspect of their bond the most. He could feel her pleasure building and it ignited his own. It was the same for her. They were both close, his cock was being squeezed by her hot and wet cunt.
What he did not enjoy was the golden glow that started emitted from the bond. It began small, similar to a beam of sunlight that broke through a forest canopy onto the floor below. But as they drew closer to their climax the light would morph into something similar to fairy lights; bright orbs of gold and silver swirling around them, making their skin glow. When they came, the lights would explode sending a dusting of the light all around them, coating them for several moments until it disappeared. Initially, this spectacle made Draco confident in their love for eachother. Proved to him that they could defy all odds, that they were fated. It was a marvel, a wonder Draco naively thought would dim with time. But it persisted. Defying every attempt at concealment. No charm could mask it, they had tried. Draco had accepted their defeat years ago, if his brilliant wife could not find a way to suppress its magic, it was not possible. Draco became accustomed to being cast in an unwanted spotlight, their bodies sheathed not just in sweat but in this incessant glow. With each encounter, what once felt like enchantment now bred a weariness and resentment in Draco. He resigned to the awkwardness it caused, far removed from the novelty of their early days.
Hermione started clenching his cock, the glow became stronger, the light show was well underway. It was beautiful; Draco took a moment to look at Hermione’s skin under the golden glow.
“Mom…Dad, is everything alright?” The tentative voice of Lyra drifted into their room. “What is that glowing?”
Draco cursed but finished in Hermione, already too far gone to stop. Once he was coherent enough, he croaked out, “We are fine, don’t worry. Go back to bed.”
”Are you sure?” Lyra, their youngest and still did not know what the glow meant. He was fairly certain their two oldest had worked it out.
“Yes, sweetheart. We will see you in the morning.” Hermione was breathless, enjoying her orgasm too much to send daggers Draco’s way. She was against having sex while the children were home, but after their fight over Kraken Draco could not help himself, make up sex was one of his favorite activities. Plus, not having sex for the entire summer was unreasonable.
As Lyra’s footsteps started down the hall, he bent over, resting his head on Hermione’s shoulder. He felt a chuckle escape him. She reached around, playfully, slapping his arm.
“It is not funny!” She protested, trying to squirm out from his grip. Draco held her hips, her skin started to glow brighter where his fingers dug into her skin.
He started kissing and nipping her back. Everywhere his lips made contact the light shimmered. “It is hilarious and you know it.”
Her wiggling started to harden him. He worked his way up her back and growled in her ear, “Round two?”
He pushed deeper in her, the mixing of their fluids sending pleasure through both of them. He heard her whimper, pleasure moving along the bond. Draco flipped her onto her back and gave his undivided attention to her breasts.
Draco was not going to miss an opportunity to bring back the light show.
They lay in each other arms, the dusting of light slowly fading as their sweat evaporated into the night air. Hermione was curled into his side, her head resting on his chest. He was absentmindedly playing with her curls, letting the smooth strands run through his fingers.
“I still think Harry and Ginny investigating the glow in Tokyo, is the most embarrassing time we got caught.” Her voice reverberated on his chest.
Draco disagreed with his wife’s assessment of the most memorable “fairy light encounter” as she put it. Draco thought back to his mothers birthday celebration so early in their marriage. Narcissa had insisted that they attend. Draco planned to book a hotel, but his mother rejected the idea. The villa had enough room for all.
Draco had made sure to ward the room, but forgot about the glow. He had Hermione balanced on the balcony of the patio with a sticking charm. He was on his knees, his face buried between her thighs, worshiping her. He was doing that movement with his tongue that caused her to come so hard it made him climax from the pleasure that exploded through their bond. She hit her climax and Draco was ejaculating on the balcony below him. He was not sure how much hit the floor or shot through the railing onto the grass below. But the fairy lights were dancing around them and bathing them in the glittering dust that left nothing to the imagination. He removed his head from her thighs, sitting back on his haunches, wiping her juices from mouth when he saw his parents on the beach. Both were standing still, open mouthed, making eye contact with him. They must have gone for a walk on the beach. Neither slept well since the war.
Draco remains grateful to Merlin that Hermione, lost in a post-orgasm haze, was oblivious to his panic through their bond. Effortlessly, he released her from the enchantment. Holding her in his arms, he hurried back to their room drawing the drapes shut. Their radiant bodies cast a warm glow dispelling the shadows.
Breakfast the next morning was rather tense, but his parents never spoke of it. The family motto might as well have been devita from all the conversations his father avoided. Draco never informed Hermione of the incident, keeping that a moment shared between himself and his parents.
Draco brought himself back to the conversation at hand.
“Ginerva has never thanked us for that encounter in Tokyo. Potter learned a thing or two that night, I think her married life was vastly improved after that trip.” He grinned as she tickled his side.
“You are too confident in your skills.”
“I have not heard any complaints these twenty years.” She rolled her eyes at his comment, but did not dispute it. Pushing herself into a sitting position, Hermione got out of the bed to use the restroom. Draco enjoyed the view of her sparkling body as she left.
Draco walked down the corridor to the afternoon training sessions with the new trainees. Today was focused on hand-to-hand combat. Since Potter and himself had taken charge of the department, all types of combat training were required. Not only did they duel and train with their fists, but proficiency in hand held weapons and firearms was also required. They received a lot of flack for this change, but after it helped in tight spots, the department complied. It was expected that every department member spent time each day honing their skills or engaging in cardiovascular pursuits.
Draco stepped into the training room. The floor was cushioned and white, similar to what you would find in martial art studios. Bō staffs were against the wall, and mirrors were spread about to watch your form. The trainees were lined up together, each in various states of readiness.
Draco removed his suit jacket and hung it on the hook next to the door. He had made all his button down shirts of a stretchy cotton material. It was a strange order for his tailor, but it made movement so much easier. Draco tightened his wand holster, his second wand hidden on his calf. The holster held a firearm and several knives. Draco undid his cufflinks, placing them in the pocket of his jacket. Rolling up his sleeves, his tattoos and dark mark became visible.
As he was folding the sleeves, he felt an anxious feeling permeate the bond. Hermione was at a conference in New York City. His wife was brilliant and asked to speak all around the world. Even though she did it frequently, Hermione did not do well with public speaking. She was wonderful at it, but had never grown comfortable with the experience. He had woken up when she was still asleep. As his day progressed, her anxiety progressed with it.
They had tried occluding in the beginning of their soul bond to keep feelings from each other, learning early on that being able to feel everything your partner did was helpful in some situations but annoying in day-to-day life. The soul bond was a powerful magic, and occluding only held for a few minutes. They used it more to signal to the other that they wanted to shut them out, even though they could not. It was similar to the silent treatment in other relationships.
Draco closed his eyes, Hermione had a large spike in anxiety that ran along the bond. It was always distressing to feel. He wanted to help, comfort, and protect her. He had been sending encouraging and soothing feelings across the bond to little avail.
He usually worked out the anxiety with Potter. He considered Potter a friend these days, but he got great pleasure in punching his school rival. The Boy Who Had No Fashion Sense was gallivanting around the Highlands of Scotland. Draco had been left to run the department. Being in charge of Aurors involved more paperwork and pointless meetings than he had ever considered. He spent most of his morning in a meeting discussing the type of paperwork that should be completed for this year's budget. With Hermione’s underlying anxiety thrumming through him, it was an annoying meeting, to say the least.
Theodore Nott was standing on the side. He had joined the Auror team with Draco, looking to change his family reputation, just like Draco. He had transitioned from fieldwork to leading the training program due to one to many injuries. Draco or Potter usually joined random combat sessions of the new trainees to inspire them—Theo’s words not his. But today, however, Draco could use the physical exertion.
He slipped his hands in his pockets and addressed the group. Some had their wands at the ready. Draco understood the instinct. It was hard to not fall back on magic.
“Wands in holsters.” He commanded. The few that had them out stowed them away. “Today is a hand to hand combat training. Why do we keep our hollisters on our persons, fully equipped?”
His eyes roamed over the group. A tall black haired girl with her chin jutting out responded. “Because we will never be in a fight without them. We need to learn to move with them.”
Draco nodded, “Correct, trainee…”
“Marshall.”
”Thank you, trainee Marshall. Your hollister is now your second skin. You go nowhere without it. You sleep with it within an arm's reach. You do not know your muggle weapon of choice yet, but they will soon join the wand and firearm that is already on your holster.”
Draco looked at Theo, “Auror Nott, do they have their second wands yet?”
”No, Deputy Malfoy, that comes next week.” Theo remained leaning against the wall.
“You will also learn to always fight with your second wand. You will choose where to hide your it on your person. This is information you will share with your partner only.” He sharply looked at all the trainees. When his gaze fell on them, their spines straightened.
“Auror Nott has taught you the basics. Today we have a tournament. The winner gets a go at me.” He grinned at the group and stepped back to the wall, putting a leg against to support his weight and he watched the fighting skills of the new Aurors.
Theo paired them off. It was a round-robin style fighting with two pairs squaring off at the beginning. Theo came to stand next to him to discuss the strengths and weaknesses of each pair.
Panic shot through his bond. He stood his gaze fixed on a distant place. He opened his mind to Hermione. Everything okay?
Oh, yes. Doctor Sano is here from Japan.
Draco growled across the bond. He did not like that man. The doctor had made his brilliant wife doubt herself. Draco was all for constructive criticism, but this man was just cruel.
Hermione, you are a leader in your field, prove him wrong.
He felt her courage harden her. The anxiety that had been buzzing in his person relaxed.
I love you.
I know.
He felt her mentally swat him. A grin came to his face.
“Stop mind fucking your wife.” Theo's head was turned toward the fights, but Draco knew he had been watching him.
“You're just jealous.” Draco replied.
“We all are. The first soul bond in 200 years. It also saved you from a sad life of being married to the perfect pureblood wife.” There was a resigned sigh, a slight hint of bitterness in Theo’s voice. Theo had just extracted himself from said marriage. He was still finding his footing as a single dad and man. But Draco knew his friend. He would manage.
The final fight was taking place and since his conversation with Hermione, her emotions had remained calm. Almost like the days she wrote or did research. Her mind was too focused elsewhere to send any emotions his way.
A brute of a trainee won. He focused too much on his protein intake, in Draco’s opinion. But it was for the best. Draco was by no means a small man, but it was important to demonstrate that size could be overcome.
He stepped in the fighting area, extending his hand to his opponent. “Draco Malfoy.”
”Liam Scully.” The young man took his hand, squeezing harder than he needed to in the hand shake. They nodded at each other.
“Clean fight, gentlemen.” Theo spoke from the side. Liam swung first. His fist easy to dodge. What he had in bulk, he was missing in finesse. Draco drew the fight out, knowing he could outlast this man. Liam had no cardio strength, focusing too much on muscle mass.
Several things happened at once. A panic, hurt, and enraged emotion erupted through his bond. He responded accordingly. Soul bonded couples were extremely protective of each other. When the bond called for it, Draco would enter a haze and he had little control over his actions. Draco was trying to suppress the haze to varying levels of success; in his distraction, Liam landed a concussion inducing punch to his face. Draco felt his face move sideways, the skin breaking, pain erupting through his head. The blood from his teeth hitting too hard against his cheek filled his mouth.
The usual demeanor that kept Draco a level-headed leader melted away. Hermione was fuming through their bond, her confused mind echoing the conversation that was taking place at the conference. Dr. Sano was being a huge prat, putting down Hermione due to her being a woman. Demanding that her partner - a male - present their findings.
Her emotions were so high and Draco was so upset on her behalf he exploded. He released his energy on Liam, hitting the trainee in quick succession. A roundhouse kick throwing the man to the ground. He could hear an echo of his name sounding through his rage haze.
Theo stepped in for Liam, parring Draco’s punches and kicks. Theo was an excellent fighter and just what Draco needed in this state. Everything he dished out, Theo returned. Triumph came through the bond, with pride. Draco paused just as Theo’s fist came in contact with his face. Theo had not held back. Everything went black. As he fell to the ground he felt panic for his well being echo across the bond. Hermione’s protective instincts were rising.
Draco woke up in the healer room of the Auror department with a nasty bruise and a very judgmental Theo. Hermione was frantic in his mind, worried he had been hurt on a mission. He spent the rest of his day correcting the mess his protective urge from the soul bond had put him in.
He calmed Hermione down, assuring her it was just training. She continued to mumble across their bond about being too old to spare with twenty year olds. Draco took offense, he had beaten the 20 year old. He was not going to tell Hermione that since it was the 40 year old that bested him.
He first apologized to Liam. Liam did not seem upset in the slightest.
“It was good that you stopped holding back. I was getting frustrated knowing you were giving about 25%. Now I know what I need to prepare for.” Awe was in his features as the healer applied bruise paste to his nasty purple blemish.
Theo was not as easily calmed. “Draco, you need to get that shit under control.”
It was an age-old argument. Draco was a Slytherin in all aspects of his life, except Hermione. He wore his love for her in the open, daring anyone to challenge it. Theo hated it, his days of protecting their friends in the war never left his system. You did not show who you loved around Death Eaters - it was a sure fire way to watch them die.
Hermione was triumphant through their bond, her body relaxed and happy the rest of the day. She had put Doctor Sano in his place.
Draco played nice and offered after work drinks to those who wanted to join. Of course, the entire department took him up on it. Draco mingled and drank, paying for two drinks only for each person. The younger crew left for louder environments, and the older Aurors went home - too tired to walk to other pubs.
Theo’s child was with their mother and Draco had no one to go home too - the kids were over at the Potters, enjoying a movie night with the Weasley cousins in attendance.
Theo and Draco drank as if they were back in their Hogwarts common room, watching Blaise attempt to charm anyone who passed by. They reminisced about old times, and before Draco realized, Longbottom had thrown floo powder into the fire, pushing him into the manor.
Upon returning, Draco found himself alone in his study, records playing loudly as he danced solo, fueled by Hermione's infectious joy. It was only after Ginerva's Patronus message about the children camping in their yard that he decided to call it a night, the echoes of music fading as he ascended the stairs to his bedroom. The night's festivities had taken their toll, and Draco fell into a deep sleep.
Draco woke up in his empty bed, his head fuzzy. He sat up, his head splitting as he did so, a heart beat pounding painfully against his skull. Grabbing his wand he conjured a glass of water and summoned a hangover potion.
Now that his headache was manageable he felt for Hermione through the bond. There was no response - it was the middle of the night in New York. Resolved to start the day positively, Draco decided on a run around the manor grounds.
During his prestretch a familiar figure approached. Corvus, having returned from the Potter's earlier than his siblings, was ready to join his father.
"Five kilometers this morning?" he asked, enthusiasm evident in his voice.
Draco looked at his son, seeing the familiar gray eyes and platinum blond hair that marked all his children. Corvus, with his riot of curly hair so much like his mother's, stood eager and ready. Going into his fourth year and already securing a spot on the Quidditch team last year. Draco knew he was determined to keep his place on the team.
“Yes, I do not have further in me.” His son nodded and they started their run.
Draco enjoyed these mornings, they would sometimes speak, but most of the time just ran. His son had started setting the pace, the realization that the next generation was coming in made Draco uncomfortable. But he was happy with the world he had helped build. His son was worried about his grades, who he was going to kiss and house points. At his age, Draco knew he had an unnatural obsession with Hermione Granger, that he could have been disowned or killed for. He heard whispers that the Dark Lord was rising. He was preparing for the worst years of his life, without knowing it.
“When did you know you loved mom?” Corvus asked when they had turned left at the lake, running along its shore.
Draco could tell his son had worked up his courage to ask this question. Draco put thought into it. Loving Hermione came naturally to him - like magic. It flowed through his body, something he rarely thought about. He tried to think of a time when the current was not there - that she was not fully embedded in his being.
“I was always aware of your mother. She is hard to not notice.” He moved his eyes to look at his son. He was concentrating on what Draco was saying, focusing too hard on the path ahead. “I truly saw her in my fourth year. I remember the day. I had received a letter from my father spouting his usual rhetoric about the inferiority of muggle-borns. It was early morning, most students were at breakfast. I walked into the library and the sun was hitting the east windows. The beams of light had dust moving through them, a calm silence covered the book shelves. There sat your mother, illuminated in light. She had stacks of books surrounding her, creating a barrier against the rest of the world. Open books were magically floating above her, like strange birds circling her head. She muttered to herself, one quill writing her dictation, the other in her hand, like she could not get the knowledge out of her head quick enough. Her wand was in her hair, holding it out of her face. But her hair has its own magic and was escaping its confines, falling into her eyes. In her frustration, she blew it out of her face.”
Draco stopped. If he continued, he would have spoken about how he watched those lips, wondering what they would feel like on his. That passion burning in her eyes, he wanted directed at him. That day, she became his sun - he was forever chasing her warmth.
Draco continued after a few strides. “I had never seen anything so magical. I knew my father was wrong - that Hermione Granger could not be inferior.”
Corvus looked at him, Draco returned his eye contact. “Dad, you said nothing about love.”
”Corv, I have always loved your mother. I was born to love her. I was an idiot, and it took me too long to realize what she meant to me. But once I did, I knew that day in the library was when I fell under her spell.”
Corvus still had confusion in his eyes. But it didn’t matter. One day he would understand, or not. That was his path to walk.
Draco walked into the office with an owl on his desk. Marty, his tailor had a last-minute cancellation and could get him in to fit his new pants. Draco sent an owl back, saying he would be there in an hour. He met with Potter, debriefing on their various missions. Potter brought up the previous day's training. Draco rubbed his eyes and mentioned the idiot Doctor Sano. They both grunted. Potter was almost as protective of Hermione as Draco himself. She was his sister in everything but blood.
After the meeting, Draco flooed to Diagon Alley. He had given himself a few extra minutes to enjoy the window displays.
Draco was standing in front of the mirror, admiring the way the material clung to his defined thighs, when he felt pleasure surge through the bond. Looking at his watch, it was still too early in New York for her to be awake.
Images began to accompany the feeling of pleasure - Hermione was having a wet dream. Draco tried to step away, but Marty froze him in place.
“You fidget too much, Mr. Malfoy. I will be using needles today. Do not want to stick you anywhere sensitive.” His eyes glinted. Marty was the best tailor in London, but a strange conversationalist.
Marty started to hum a song as he pinned needles into Draco’s trousers. Hermione’s dreams were entering Draco’s consciousness. It was one of his favorite memories. His body was pressed up against hers. They were in a back alley of a bar after dancing around each other all night. Hermione was in her tight muggle jeans and a low cut red top, that she had worn to tease him. If asked, Draco was not sure he could explain what it was like reliving this memory through Hermione’s mind. He could feel what she felt but also remember how the experience was for him.
It was the first night he had tasted her. They were not bonded yet and he could not feel her pleasure building; he was not attuned to her body like it was his own. It was a night of exploration and discovery. The night they realized they might be more connected than they originally thought.
Draco was frozen in place, the tailor adjusting his hem, a circle of mirrors around him. He looked at his reflection; his jaw was tight, similar to how his pants were starting to feel. He looked down, seeing his erection grow with Hermione’s dream. He tried to lift his foot and step off the platform.
“So antsy today Mr. Malfoy. You want it to fit correctly?” Marty, focused on the hem, looked up at Draco’s face. His gaze stopped halfway up. “Ah…that is a strange way to request a hidden extension charm on your trousers, but it can be accommodated. We will need a rather large one, I see.”
Humor twinkled in Marty’s eyes. Hermione’s dream progressed, and Draco felt a glow start to illuminate his skin.
His voice was thick, as he choked out, “Marty, I have to leave.”
“I suspected as much. Keep the trousers on, you can owl them later. Try not to stain them.” Marty had a grin that matched the barely restrained laugh in his voice.
As the sticking charm released, Draco rushed to the floo. He threw the powder in the fire, calling out the manor. Once he stepped into the entry area, he apparatted to his en-suite bathroom. He vanished his clothes, turning on the shower and stepping under the hot stream of water.
His penis was fully erect, glistening with precum, waiting for his touch. He allowed his mind to fully enter Hermione’s dream. She was at the part where Draco started removing her clothing. His eyes were dark, drinking her in. He added his own memory to the dream. Her body splayed out beneath him, she squirmed, trying to create friction at her core.
The shower was dark, Draco had not bothered to turn on the light. His body already casting a faint glow, illuminating the space. He grasped himself, moving his hand rhythmically, the water reducing any friction. He wondered if Hermione could climax from the dream alone, without any physical touch. The thought intensified his arousal, pushing him closer to the brink.
He was reaching his climax when Hermione became an active participant in their mutual pleasure.
Oh Dracoooo. He felt her moan across the bond.
A shiver ran down his spine.
Good morning, love.
She hummed back to him. He could picture her: body stretched out, back arching, writhing on the sheets. He projected an image of her parting her legs, her hand gliding over her breasts, barely grazing them as it traveled to the apex of her thighs.
Are you touching yourself? Her question was breathless across the bond.
He looked in the mirror, opening his mind further to her, allowing her to see what he saw. His pale body gleamed, steam curling around him. His numerous tattoos stood out starkly against the glow. His muscles, defined and tense, as he worked toward his climax. His right hand braced against the shower wall, his left gripped around his erection. He appeared in profile, except his face, which gazed directly at her through the mirror’s reflection. His usually light gray eyes were dark.
Hermione moaned through the bond. I wish I was there to suck that precum off.
He felt her pleasure spike. They were both so close, the fairy lights started to form around him.
He turned his entire body towards the mirror, his mind still open to hers so she could see all his glory. His strokes became hard and swift, when the door to the bathroom opened.
“What is that glowing?” Scorpius’s voice echoed in the bathroom. Hermione came just then, Draco joined her, ejaculating on the glass shower wall. His cum dripped down the drain like his dignity.
Scorpius peaked around the door, “Fuck dad! What are you doing home!?”
Draco spoke, not looking away from the mirror. “Enjoying the privacy of my own bathroom. Get out!”
Draco had caught a glimpse of his son’s aghast face, mouth hinged open, his face three shades paler than it usually was.
Scorpius didn't need to be told twice; the door slammed behind him. Draco knew a conversation about respecting privacy was due with his eldest.
Unbeknownst to him, he had continued sharing his reality with Hermione. Her laughter echoed through the bond.
It is not funny. He could not help but smile.
Yes it is. How mortifying for Scrop. He thinks you masturbate while admiring yourself at the mirror. She laughed harder, and he imagined her rolling with mirth on her hotel bed. Draco ran his hand down his face, groaning. He had a high tolerance for embarrassment, but today made him slightly self conscious.
Who would do that? Draco had not thought about how he looked to his son.
They said in unison to each other, Zabini!
Draco laughed, the sound echoed around the shower. Once they had both calmed down he spoke to Hermione. That thought had not occurred to me. Thank you for adding that awkward layer to my upcoming conversation with Scorpius. Between him and Marty, I might blush.
Who? Hermione’s insatiable curiosity coursed in the bond.
Marty, my tailor. He was fitting my pants when your dream started. Draco had so many feelings at the moment he was not sure which one his witch was feeling.
A guttural laugh sounded in his mind, Hermione could hardly breath.
Glad my mortifying day can provide entertainment. He added extra disdain to his voice.
She continued to laugh for several minutes as Draco shared the memories of his visit with the tailor.
Are you going to find a new tailor? She asked, once she was able to breathe.
No…should I? He is the best in London.
He felt Hermione’s eyes roll as she asked. What’s an awkward memory between a tailor and client?
Precisely, I am sure it happens all the time. Draco truly did not see a problem, Marty acted like it occurred all the time.
We know the glowing doesn’t. He loved the sass in his wife, he felt himself grin.
Details.
She hummed, her disbelief in his confidence evident. Want to join me for my shower?
Only if you do exactly what I tell you. The anticipation they both felt at his words caused him to harden.
Yes sir. Can I suggest locking the door before we start? Draco could just imagine the smirk on Hermione’s face. He would have spanked her if she was here for that cheek. But he did, wandlessly, lock the door, sending an eye roll through their bond.
Draco was racing down the pitch, quaffle in his hand. Scorpius was hovering around the hoops, playing keeper. He had been keeper for the Slytherin house team for three years now. He was hoping to be captain in the upcoming school year.
Draco drew his arm back, ready to throw, but instead, he dropped the quaffle to Ginerva, who was zooming below him. She swung by the hoops, getting the quaffle past Scorpius. The keeper's brows furrowed in frustration, but he decided not dwell on the points and threw the quaffle to Potter. Ginny grinned at Draco, giving him a wink as she sped up to harass her husband.
It was a four on four pick up game - three chasers and a keeper on each team. Lily was currently sitting on the side lines, having rotated who sat out in 10 minute periods for the game.
Dinner is ready.
Draco looked up the hill where Hermione had been sitting, reading a book. She was now standing, helping Mippy set out the meal. Her hair was pulled back, with her wand holding it in place. A smile on her face as she spoke to the elf.
We'll be there soon.
“Oy, dinner is ready.” Draco called to the group. Himself, Ginerva, and Potter landed on the ground.
“I was just about to go back in…” Disappointment laced Lily’s voice.
“We can play after dinner.” Potter tried to reassure his daughter.
“The light will be gone.” She said, shrugging, resigned to her fate.
“We could play 20 minutes longer, three on three?” Corvus spoke tentatively, looking at Draco.
“Only 20 minutes.” Draco confirmed, as his son nodded.
“Thanks, Corv.” Lily’s face broke into a wide smile directed at Corvus as she mounted her broom.
Corvus’s smile lit his entire face, a blush creeping up his neck, and his signature dimples forming on his cheeks. He turned on his broom to keep up with Lily as they went to tell their siblings.
Ginerva wiggled her eyebrows at the two wizards.
“Do not start, Gin. I do not want to think about them growing up.” Potter muttered, shaking his head.
“Whether you want to think about it or not, it is happening.” She said, taking the lead toward the picnic spot, her broom resting on her shoulder.
The wizards followed. Draco kept his eyes on Hermione, standing smiling at them as they approached. She was stunning, her soft cotton dress hugging her curves. Her hair had escaped her wand and was being played with by the wind.
You are beautiful.
You do not look too bad yourself. Can you wear that kit to bed tonight? Her eyes were glowing with mischief.
“You two, keep it in your pants. I know you have a thing for quidditch players, Hermione, but I need to be at least a half a bottle in to deal with your fairy lights.” Ginerva pointed her finger between the two of them, sat down, and took a large gulp of her wine.
Draco smirked at Ginerva, which she returned in kind. He placed a soft kiss on his wife's lips, feeling the electric current flow through them.
Draco sat down, removing the more uncomfortable parts of his kit. The table fell into a lively conversation around him. He felt a hum of contentment run along the bond. Sitting back, wine glass in hand, he placed his other hand on Hermione's thigh under the table, giving it a squeeze. Her gaze drifted to him, a warm smile on her face, that he matched. Draco recognized the magic in the night. He was surrounded by good friends, family, and his soulmate. Despite the troubles a soul bond could bring, he would have it no other way.