Chapter Text
Chapter 16
September, 2006
“Are you sure you don’t want to do anything?” Ginny asked from across the table at the Leaky Cauldron.
“I’m sure, Ginny,” Hermione said for what felt like the hundredth time. “The last thing I want is a big party,” she added.
“I know that you’re upset about losing that Centaur bill, but honestly, it was rigged. It’s not your fault that the Wizengamot are a bunch of old, half-decayed men with one foot in the grave. I think a celebration is just what you need!” She chirped brightly, slamming her hands on the sticky table.
Hermione sighed. “I appreciate it, Gin, really. I’ve accepted that I can’t win them all.”
“So, does that mean you’ll let us throw a party?” Ginny’s eyes were wide as she pleaded with her friend. “Theo’s been bored with wedding planning, I think he’d love to think about literally anything else.”
She eyed her friend skeptically, knowing that if she didn’t say yes, the redhead and the rest of their friends would just do it anyway.
“Fine,” Hermioned said. “Nothing crazy though, okay? Maybe something at your place? Or Theo’s?”
Her friend nodded distractedly. “I’m surprised Malfoy hasn’t convinced you yet. Remember his Valentine’s gift for you?” Ginny guffawed. “I would’ve jumped him right then and there.”
“How could I forget?” Hermione asked flatly, smiling a little at the memory and fighting a blush.
“He’s obviously the lucky one between the two of you, but he knows how to give a damn good gift,” Ginny whistled lowly, swigging from her butterbeer.
Hermione sipped at her pint. “I suppose,” she conceded.
“Have you spoken with your parents at all?” Ginny asked kindly.
Hermione nodded. “I spoke to my mum over the phone yesterday. They’re doing well; it’s getting hot where they live. I might go to visit them at the very end of the month.”
“That’s nice,” Ginny said genuinely. “And they’re still…?” She trailed off.
“Not wanting to leave the fake lives I created for them?” Hermione supplied, sighing. “They’re stubborn. I understand completely. But it does get…lonely to think about how much their lives have changed because of me.” She admitted quietly as Ginny patted her hand atop the table. “I guess it’s ironic that my biggest fear is to be forgotten, my name to the wind, when I quite literally helped facilitate exactly that.”
Ginny scoffed. “You saved your parents’ lives, Hermione,” her tone was low, urgent. “There’s no question about what would’ve happened to them if you hadn’t done what you did.”
“I know, Gin.”
“Just because they don’t share your last name anymore doesn’t mean they’re any less your parents.”
Hermione sighed, nodding. “I know, I do.” Ginny squeezed her hand. “It’s just difficult; sometimes I forget how much our relationship has changed and then it hits me all at once– that they aren’t really Grangers anymore.” She frowned slightly.
Ginny’s eyes were warm as they regarded her. “They’ll always be your parents. You remember how hard they fought to get their memories back, almost as hard as you fought to get back to them.” She shook her head. “I still can’t believe Malfoy helped you with that back then. Before you two were even–”
“I know,” Hermione commiserated. “I wasn’t expecting it at all.”
“What do you think he’ll get you this year?” Ginny asked speculatively. “A diamond tiara? A new wardrobe? A giant treasure chest?”
Hermione wrinkled her nose. “What is he, a pirate?”
Her friend shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe. God, I’d love to see the contents of his vaults. Can you imagine?”
Hermione rolled her eyes, thinking of Bellatrix’s at Gringotts. “Yes, unfortunately.” She sighed. “You know that I don’t need any of that stuff, Gin.” She played with the necklace at her throat. “Even this was too much,” she held the pendant up to the light, watching as it sparkled on its thin chain.
Ginny shook her head. “I still can’t believe he gave you that,” she let out a breath.
“Me either,” she replied honestly, letting the amulet fall back to her chest.
“How is he going to top an ancient protective amulet?”
Hermione shrugged. “It’s not a competition. I’m happy with whatever any of you get me,” she smiled.
“I know, I know,” Ginny waved her off. “But think of the possibilities! He’s definitely competing against himself, even if you don’t care what he gets you. I can’t wait to see it, whatever it is.” Her grin was bright.
— — —
Late September, 2006
“Happy birthday,” Malfoy said as she opened her office door, showing up unannounced.
“Malfoy,” she blinked in surprise, motioning for him to enter.
“I know it’s not until tomorrow,” he told her. “But I wanted to stop by and give you this,” he waved a hand, a fat bouquet of deep red roses appearing, tied with a black velvet bow.
She smiled, taking the giant bouquet from him. “Thank you,” she said softly against his lips, her eyes fluttering shut.
“Anything for my Golden Girl,” he smirked at her, planting a kiss on each cheek. “Obviously, your real gift will come tomorrow. But I wanted to give you this as a precursor, a promise of more.” He straightened the collar of his white Oxford.
“You’re the worst,” she shook her head, fighting back a grin. “You don’t need to do any of this, you know. You’ve already won me over.”
He hummed, cradling her jaw in one hand. “I wholeheartedly disagree.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead before stepping back. “I’ll never stop trying to impress you, especially because I’ve already won you over.” He smirked down at her, self-satisfied. “I have to go, I have a meeting to get to. I’ll see you tomorrow at Pansy’s?” His brows were raised.
Hermione nodded, holding the flowers up to her face and taking a deep breath. “Thank you again.”
He turned back from where he stood in the doorway, giving her a cheeky wink and a genuine, soft smile. “Of course. I’ll see you.”
With that, he pulled the door closed behind him, leaving Hermione to sit back at her desk, distracted and giddy for the rest of the long work day.
— — —
Hermione grinned widely as she appeared in Ginny and Pansy’s living room, her friends wearing Muggle party hats and blowing paper party horns, both of which had become a tradition on Hermione’s birthday.
The cottage living room had been decked out in Muggle birthday decorations; a colorful banner hung against the back wall, charmed to dispense glitter at random intervals, the letters spelling out Hermione’s name flashing in the warm light. Golden balloons floated and bobbed, hitting guests when they least expected it; crepe paper streamers in red and gold hung from the ceiling; a wooden table draped in a red plastic tablecloth was covered in an assortment of finger foods.
She was immediately pulled into a revolving door of hugs from her friends– Harry, then Ginny, then Ron, and then after that, she lost track.
“Thank you, really,” she directed at Ginny and Pansy. “You’ve all truly outdone yourselves.” She tugged at one of the streamers hanging nearby.
“What about me?” Theo asked, a hand to his chest in mock-affront. “I was the one who decorated!”
Pansy waved him off. “Don’t listen to him, Granger. He mostly just sat on the sofa while sneaking food as if we wouldn’t notice.”
Theo scoffed, but did nothing to deny this statement.
Hermione rolled her eyes fondly, giving Theo a friendly pat on the shoulder.
“Thanks, Teddy. As always, I’m sure you were a great help.”
“Quite right, Granger,” he smiled congenially, giving her a light kiss on the cheek. “Oh, we almost forgot! Your accessories.”
With a dramatic wave of his hand, a black fabric sash with gold lettering that said “Birthday Girl” and a gold plastic tiara materialized; Theo placed the former over her shoulders, adjusting it over her black dress, and the latter atop her unruly curls. He gave her a pat on the head.
Malfoy walked up to her, wearing his typical black slacks and starched white Oxford, a thin black tie completing his signature look.
“You look lovely,” he said quietly once he was in range, his eyes dancing amusedly over her birthday ensemble.
The long sleeves of her dress were thin and gauzy, the skirt’s hem was short but flowy over her thighs, the sweetheart neckline dipping just a little, the scar from Dolohov’s curse just barely on display. Her heels were also black, thin straps winding up her ankles.
“Thank you,” she replied shyly, blushing at the rapturous look on Malfoy’s face.
He bent to kiss her gently, both of his hands cupping her jaw, his thumb running along it absently.
“Eugh,” Ginny and Ron said in unison, sticking their tongues out.
Against her lips, Malfoy muttered, “Fucking Weasleys.”
“Let’s do cake first, then presents,” Ginny said from her side, ignoring Malfoy’s comment.
Hermione nodded, knowing that she realistically had no say in the matter. She gave Malfoy a semi-apologetic look as she pulled away from his hands.
Ginny bustled into the kitchen, disappearing for a moment before reemerging with a frankly ostentatious three-tiered cake, done in golden frosting with dark red piping trim. Two white candles stuck out of the top in the shape of the numbers two and seven.
The redhead set it on the snacks table, lighting the candles with a wave of her hand. In unison, her friends all began singing a terribly off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday”, which made Hermione giggle.
She blew out the candles, her eyes fluttering closed on instinct as she made her wish.
Paper plates with fat slices of vanilla buttercream cake were passed around in addition to flutes of sparkling champagne; Hermione made to sit on a green velvet settee, Malfoy taking the armchair behind her, his long legs outstretched on either side of her.
She tensed as he leaned forward so that his chest brushed her back, his cake plate hovering somewhere by her head.
“Do you like the cake?” He asked, and though the question itself was innocent, the indecent way he drawled in her ear was decidedly not.
She suppressed a shiver as she managed a quiet, “Yes.”
“I’m glad,” he said lightly, pulling back from her.
His fingertips began tracing swirling patterns into her exposed upper back, her body suddenly on high alert.
“What are you doing?” She asked out of the side of her mouth, not looking back at him.
“What do you mean?” He asked nonchalantly.
“Quit teasing,” she grumbled.
He chuckled, a low sound that made Hermione’s blood sing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She huffed, determined to ignore him and focus on literally anything else.
Ron and Ginny were bickering about Quidditch on the sofa across from them, their arms gesticulating wildly as their faces got progressively more red. Theo was cackling maniacally at Harry’s bewildered expression, Theo having just smeared cake all over his glasses, Harry retaliating automatically by smashing his plate into Theo’s waiting face.
“Christ,” Malfoy muttered, sounding incredulous. “Are they always that rowdy?” He jerked his chin toward their respective best friends.
“Unfortunately, I think this is pretty tame. Remember that time at your birthday party?”
Malfoy huffed a laugh. “When we played that drinking game? How could I forget my first and hopefully last time drinking troll vodka? I woke up with a raging hangover the next day.”
“Same,” Hermione laughed, hiccuping a little.
Once Theo and Harry had returned from the bathroom, the pair now free of cake face but looking slightly more disheveled than before they had disappeared for half an hour, it was time for presents.
“Mine last,” Malfoy whispered in her ear, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.
She nodded mutely.
Theo, of course, demanded that his presents be opened first, the others not bothering to argue against him.
Without further ado, he unceremoniously shoved three lumpy, somewhat squashed packages into Hermione’s open arms; the wrapping paper was dark green with silver snakes, charmed to slither around.
“Funny,” she commented drily, raising a brow at her friend.
“I thought so, too,” he smiled. “Now that you and Draco finally got over whatever it was that kept you from confessing your undying love to one another,” he rolled his eyes; Hermione bristled as her friends laughed.
Hermione sighed, pushing Theo’s insolence out of her mind before refocusing on the presents in front of her. She received a lovely set of hair pins in yellow gold, decorated with delicate white flowers, a priceless first edition of Hogwarts: A History, and most confusingly, an inventory ledger bound in dark leather.
“What’s this?” She asked, holding it up.
“You’ll see,” Theo replied cryptically, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth.
Hermione shrugged, moving to open the rest of her gifts. From Harry, she received an expensive set of self-inking, smudge-proof quills; from Ron, two tickets to the museum to an exhibit she had been dying to see. Ginny’s grin was wide, half-manic as she placed a red gift bag in Hermione’s lap, tissue paper bursting out of it.
“Should I be scared?” Hermione asked, giving her friend a knowing look.
Ginny shrugged. “This is for you too, Ferret,” she nodded her chin at Malfoy. “Just open it.”
So, Hermione opened it, her jaw dropping to the floor at the very flimsy, very tiny lingerie set currently pinched between her fingers– in Slytherin green, of course. She stuffed the see-through bra, skimpy thong, and salacious garter belt back into the gift bag while blushing furiously, but not before the rest of the guests saw.
“Ginny!” She squeaked, her face beet red.
Ginny cackled, her head tipping back. “You should’ve seen your face!”
Hermione was fuming, already beginning to formulate ways she could get her revenge.
“I quite like it,” Malfoy chimed in amiably from his place behind her.
The redhead guffawed. Hermione’s eye twitched. She cleared her throat loudly, placing the bag on the ground by her feet before moving onto other, better things.
Malfoy got progressively more tense behind her as she opened gift after gift until there were none left but his own. She saw the muscle in his thigh flex, one foot bouncing on the hardwood floor.
“Well?” Theo asked his friend expectantly.
Malfoy stood from where he sat behind her, moving around to face her from where he knelt on the floor. He waved a hand, a crisp white envelope appearing in his grasp. He looked suddenly unsure, hesitant to hand it to her.
“I’m sure I’ll love it,” she reassured him quietly, her eyes not leaving his.
He nodded slightly, offering it to her.
The assembled crowd waited with bated breath as she slid her thumbnail under the wax seal, breaking it open and lifting a folded piece of thick parchment out of the envelope. She unfolded it carefully, her heart pounding in nervous anticipation. She read the heading, her brows knitting in confusion, before continuing to read the next short paragraphs until she got to the end.
Her mouth opened on a small gasp, her eyes flitting across the page, turning it over to see if there was something she was missing.
She sat, swallowing thickly and blinking rapidly at the page, the words in black ink blurring across her vision. She felt her fingers clench around the parchment, a slight crumpling sound the only thing audible in the room.
“What is it?!” Ginny practically screamed, apparently fed up with waiting.
“Er–” Hermione stammered, still blinking. “It’s– I don’t know.” Theo’s ledger suddenly made sense.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Theo asked, incredulous. “Can I?”
She offered the parchment to him wordlessly. Theo read it outloud for the group.
Dear Ms. Hermione Jean Granger,
It is with great pleasure that I write to you to tell you that the ownership of Granger’s Books (nee. Flourish and Blotts), located in Diagon Alley, has transferred to your estate in your name. I truly cannot think of another witch or wizard more passionate about books and the knowledge they hold than you. I am honored to pass on the ownership to you, and on your birthday, no less!
My solicitor will get in contact with yours shortly to handle the business side of things, but do not fret– it will be handled and you do not have to lift a finger. The name change of the shop will go into effect at your behest.
Yours truly,
Cornelius Dagworth
The room was silent for another moment before it burst with excited exclamations and cheers. Hermione sat stiff as a board as her friends jumped up and down, Ron and Blaise clapping Malfoy on the back.
Malfoy stared unwaveringly at her face, his own brows knitted together in concern for her. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, watching as Malfoy’s expression morphed into that of genuine uncertainty, of guardedness. That simply wouldn’t do.
She surged forward at once, gripping his perfect, pointy, pale face in her hands, planting a sloppy kiss against his pouty mouth. The cheers of her friends were drowned out and muffled as she swallowed his sound of surprise, slanting their mouths together, his hands coming up to grip either side of her waist.
She pulled away, exhaling shakily. “You’re insane,” she told him, shaking her head. “I can’t believe it.”
“Do you like it?” He asked, sounding nervous but ultimately pleased.
She shoved at his shoulders. “Of course I like it, you prat! I love it.” She felt like she might cry, her eyes suddenly burning.
He grinned, his cheeks dimpling. “You can change the name to whatever you want, I just thought that Granger’s–” he rambled nervously.
She cut him off with another kiss; she couldn’t help herself. For so long, she had been consumed by the somewhat-irrational fear that she’d be forgotten upon her death, that her name wouldn’t make a lasting impression on Wizarding society despite her best efforts. Of course, she had never voiced this fear outloud, but of course Malfoy had known anyway, just as he had known it was her in disguise all of those months ago. Just as he had always known her.
“It’s perfect,” she said against his lips. “I love you.”
He smiled, blushing a little. “I love you too, Granger.”
“I can’t believe it,” Ginny interrupted, bursting through their bubble. “You’ve truly outdone yourself this time, Ferret,” she sounded genuinely impressed as she patted his shoulder.
“Thank you, Ginevra,” he replied politely, though his eyes never left Hermione’s.
“Seriously, well done,” Harry chimed in. “Makes the rest of our gifts look positively lame in comparison.”
“Of course not, Harry!” Hermione protested instantly. “I love everything that you got me. Truly.”
“I know, I know,” her bespectacled friend said. “But how can we compete with that? Malfoy bought you a fucking bookstore. Merlin, I knew you were rich,” he nodded at Malfoy, “But this is just…insane.”
Malfoy laughed. “A small price to pay for her happiness,” he replied, patting Hermione’s thigh, making her blush profusely.
Ginny cooed, clasping her hands in front of her as she pretended to swoon.
“Rich and selfless?” Ginny asked incredulously. “I truly never would have guessed that those things went hand in hand.”
Malfoy scoffed. “You wound me, Weasley.”
She guffawed, her fingers tracing idle circles on Pansy’s waist.
“You should have seen him, Granger,” Theo piped up from the couch. “He was positively beside himself with anxiety. ‘Do you think she’ll like it, Theo?’ ‘Is it too much, do you think?’ Merlin, I wanted to put him out of his misery.”
Malfoy shot his friend a dark look, “That’s enough, Theo.”
Theo just laughed, used to Malfoy’s surly dramatics. “I’m happy for you, truly.”
Hermione smiled at Theo and the rest of her friends, her heart still beating quickly in her chest at the whirlwind of emotions she had felt. She was struck with a sudden surge of fondness for them all; as hodge-podge as they were, they were her family.
Several hours later, Hermione managed to stumble through her Floo, still pleasantly drunk. She remembered at the last second to step out of the way of the fireplace, Malfoy following right behind her, before she flicked on the living room lights.
“Oof,” she said as she stumbled a little further into the room.
“You alright?” He asked, dusting off his trousers.
She hummed, toeing off her heels and tossing them in the vague direction of the couch.
“I can’t believe you,” she mumbled.
He stepped up to her, his hands moving to rest on her hips. “Did I tell you that you look absolutely beautiful tonight?” His smile was soft.
“Maybe once or twice,” she laughed against his lips. “I can’t believe you. Or Ginny.” She huffed, rolling her eyes.
“Hey!” Malfoy said, drawing his face back. “Don’t lump me in with the Weaslette. But speaking of her gift,” he trailed off, his eyes darting to the pile of packages that he had dragged through the Floo.
She laughed again. “You’re the worst,” she pushed at his chest. “Did you help her plan it?” She raised a brow.
“Of course not,” he scoffed, “But for reasons completely unrelated to her gift, she has risen a lot higher on my Tolerable Weasleys totem pole,” he smirked down at her, pushing her back toward the bedroom.
Hermione just rolled her eyes again, smiling as they made their way down the hall, his hands skating up her ribs and across her back as he pressed his mouth against her neck.
Once inside her bedroom, he dropped any pretense and was on her in an instant, his kisses down her throat feverish. She gasped as he nipped at the thin skin there, tilting her head back further as they stumbled towards the bed, her table lamp the only source of light in the dark room.
Her knees hit the bed frame as she fell back onto it, pulling him down on top of her, his mouth never leaving her skin as she moved up to rest her head against the pillows.
“Beautiful,” he mumbled into the side of her neck, his hips slotted between hers.
“Thank you,” she whispered, capturing his lips with hers. “I couldn’t have asked for a better birthday.” She smiled up at him; his eyes glowed in the dim light. “I still can’t believe it,” she shook her head incredulously. “A whole bookstore.”
He pulled back to look at her face, his expression fond. “A lucky guess,” he joked, leaning down to kiss the tip of her nose, her arms looped over his neck.
“But–” Hermione protested, still wrapping her head around it all. “How did you know that I’d–?”
“That you’d what?” He gave her an unimpressed look. “Enjoy being given the ownership of your favorite bookstore?” He huffed. “I know I can be a bit dense sometimes, but nobody could miss the way you covet Flourish and Blotts.”
“I know,” she started, running a hand through his hair. “I mean the…” she glanced at the ceiling, “Name change.” She swallowed, her voice suddenly stuck in her throat.
“Oh,” he said thoughtfully, pressing soft kisses against her forehead. “Lucky guess?”
She chuckled, trailing her hands down his back. “Off?” She asked.
He shifted off of her a bit, sitting back on his heels as he deftly undid the buttons on his shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders and tossing it to the side. Hermione couldn’t help but reach a hand out to trace the defined muscles of his abdomen, his skin tensing under her featherlight touch.
“Oh,” she said, sitting up. “I almost forgot.”
She nudged him fully off of her, her legs swinging over the side of the bed before she stood, padding to the bedroom door.
Malfoy made a little sound of protest as she reached for the handle, his brows furrowed comically.
“Relax, you prat,” she smiled at him. “I’ll be right back.”
Shutting the door behind her, she padded back into the living room and rummaged through the pile of gifts until she found Ginny’s red gift bag. She made quick work of removing her dress, then proceeded to get very confused about how to put the garments on, straps and scraps of lace that they were.
Finally, she managed to get each limb through the correct opening; not wanting to overthink it further, she practically ran through the hallway.
“Close your eyes,” she called through the door.
She heard Malfoy groan from inside. “Really, Granger?” He drawled, his voice muffled.
“Yes, really,” she huffed. “Are they closed?”
“Yes.”
She took a deep breath and opened the door, shutting it quickly behind her. She stepped up to the bed, trying her best not to fidget with the garter belt at her waist.
“Open them,” she said quietly.
He did so, his eyes blinking a few times before widening as he shifted up onto his elbows to look at her fully. He stared, unblinking and brazen as he took her in, a tinge of pink coloring his pale cheeks, his mouth slightly open.
“Well?” She asked, suddenly nervous.
His hands darted out toward her, pulling her down onto the bed on top of him. His mouth was hot against hers as he kissed her in earnest, one hand tangling in her hair, the other stroking the soft skin of her hip.
“Beautiful,” he murmured against her lips. “God, I could die just like this,” he sighed dreamily, his head falling back against the pillows as he gazed up at her through half-lidded eyes.
“Don’t be dramatic,” she giggled, crossing her arms where she sat against his hips. “Nobody’s dying.”
“I think I might be,” he said seriously, tugging on one of the straps of her bra. “Do you know what you look like right now?” He laughed. “Fucking incredible.”
She pretended to be unaffected by the open, honest way he adored her, but found herself fighting back a blush. She leaned down over him, kissing the side of his jaw as his hands skated up her back, making her shiver.
“Take it off of me?” She murmured against his pale skin, her body humming as he tensed underneath her.
“I’d be a fool to say no to that,” he laughed, drawing her into another heated kiss that left her breathless. “Come here,” he said, gripping her hips and pulling them up toward his face.
She squeaked in surprise, her knees shuffling up the bed, her hands reaching out to grab the headboard.
“What are you doing?” She asked, giving him a dubious look from where she sat against his chest.
He squeezed her hips, giving her a meaningful look.
“Oh,” she said softly, her face flushed.
He continued pulling at her until she was centered above his face, her thighs shaking as she held herself off of him. He glanced up at her, shooting her a cheeky wink, before he began pressing soft kisses against the skin of her inner thigh, causing her to gasp. One of his hands gripped the flesh of her upper thigh, the other pressing lightly against her clit, eliciting another choked gasp from her.
Her entire body was flushed, hot and tense under his touch as he teased her, her knuckles white from where they gripped the headboard. His mouth ghosted over her core, there and then gone, and she had to bite back another groan.
“Malfoy,” she gritted out, “Please.”
“Please what?” He asked, nipping at her inner thigh.
“You know what,” she argued, swirling her hips.
His grip on her leg grew tighter at the motion, his eyelids fluttering. “Tell me anyway?” He asked.
“It’s my birthday,” she whined.
Malfoy huffed a laugh, his fingertips pressing into her skin. “I suppose you’re right,” he said easily, his eyes closed, and she sighed with relief. “You’ve been so good,” he whispered against her core.
She fought back a groan as his fingers began pulling the lace to the side, gasping in surprise as he ripped right through the underwear.
“Malfoy!” She half-shrieked.
He waved her off, “I’ll repair them later, Granger.” His voice was low.
The first touch of his tongue against her clit caused every stray thought to eddy out of her head, her nerves alight. She moaned into her arm as he licked at her, her thighs clenched on either side of her head. Hermione gripped his hair in her hand, muffling her gasps as he lapped at her, his own groans vibrating through her entire body.
“Fuck,” he mumbled into her skin. “You’re perfect.”
She tossed her head back on an embarrassingly loud moan, her hips swiveling against his mouth as he sucked on her clit, working her higher and higher. Hermione inhaled shakily as she felt his finger enter her, her hips stuttering at the pressure.
“Oh fuck,” she choked out, her teeth biting into the skin of her bicep as she involuntarily ground down onto him.
“Yeah?” He asked, his hands gripping her hips to keep her pinned against him. “You’re so beautiful,” his voice was soft, his breath hot against her sensitive skin.
He flicked his tongue against her again as his finger pumped into her, and she shattered above him, her thighs suffocating as they clenched against his head. She let out a broken moan as her entire body tensed, before she collapsed against the headboard, panting.
Malfoy squeezed her legs, humming contentedly as she rode out her orgasm, his hair wild and sticking up in all directions.
She sighed happily, scooting down before laying her head against his chest, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, her leg swung over his hip.
He planted a kiss against her cheek, his fingers tracing light patterns across her upper arm, his bare skin flushed.
“You look good in green,” he said, smiling down at her.
“Prat,” she huffed. “Ginny’s going to be pissed.” He waved a hand. “The Weaslette is smart. She knew what she was doing, giving you this,” he plucked at her bra strap.
She rolled her eyes, her hand trailing down to his belt buckle to undo it. Malfoy sat up, allowing her to pull it through the loops before tossing it on the floor.
“Trousers,” she said, tugging at them.
He stood almost comically fast, undoing the button and shucking them off, kicking them to the side. Hermione eyed his toned body greedily, the way his boxer briefs sat low on his hips, the hard planes of his chest and abdomen gleaming in the low light.
“On or off?” He asked, smiling at her.
She sat up, unclasping the bra and tossing it off the side of the bed before shimmying out of the garter belt; the only thing left now were the sheer green thigh highs.
“You too,” she nodded at his boxer briefs.
He knelt back on the bed, his mouth trailing kisses up her stomach to her breasts, one hand coming up to circle her nipple, humming against her skin as her legs circled his hips.
She ground against his hard cock, gasping at the heavy weight of it against her sensitive flesh, her hands buried in his soft hair.
“Please,” she mouthed at the skin of his shoulder. “I need you.”
Malfoy let out a broken moan at her words, his head dropping to her shoulder.
“Hermione,” his voice was almost pained as he kissed her neck. “Don’t say things like that.”
She laughed, her hands running across his broad back. “Please, Draco.”
He growled at the sound of his name from her mouth, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, his hand cradling her jaw.
“Fuck,” he said, sounding slightly frantic. “How?”
She pushed lightly at his shoulder, waiting for him to sit back on his knees before she flipped over onto her stomach, arching her back and hearing him gasp.
“Fuck,” he groaned, one hand palming her arse. “You’re perfect.”
She wiggled her hips impatiently. “Please,” she said into the pillows.
She felt him shift behind her, his cock bumping against her entrance as he planted his knees on either side of her hips. He leaned down to kiss her shoulder, then her cheek from where it lay against the pillow; then he was pushing in, her gasp muffled at the feeling of him filling her.
She pushed back against him until he bottomed out, the two of them gasping. His hands were gripping her hips, fingertips flexing against her as she adjusted to him.
“Move,” she ground out, impatient.
He withdrew, then snapped his hips forward, causing her to cry out. Malfoy groaned again, thrusting into her in long, hard strokes.
Hermione’s fingertips gripped at the bedsheets, her hair wild as he drove into her, her moans growing increasingly loud as he fucked her.
“Fuck,” he growled above her, one hand moving to grip the hair at the back of her head, pulling her up toward him. She pushed up onto her elbows, tilting her head back, and he bent to kiss her, still thrusting into her as he swallowed her moans.
“Draco,” she practically sobbed, her eyes rolling back into her head, her nails digging into the sheets.
She cried out as she felt his fingers against her clit, his other hand still in her hair. She bit her lip so hard that she tasted blood, trying and failing to muffle the sounds she was making as he fucked her into the mattress, her entire body shifting forward with each thrust. She felt herself winding tighter and tighter as he whispered against her ear, his pace never faltering as he swirled his fingers against her clit.
“Fuck,” she cried, “Draco, please,” she babbled.
“Hermione,” he groaned against her shoulder, his hips stuttering.
Her entire body was tense, her back arched against him as he continued fucking her.
“Fuck,” he said, his thrusts coming faster now. “I can feel your cunt clenching on my cock,” he threw his head back on a particularly deep thrust. “Please, come for me.”
She tensed around him as she came, shouting his name as her head fell back down onto the pillows, her arms giving out. He continued driving into her, his fingers still on her clit as she shook around him before she collapsed fully onto the bed. He pressed kisses against her shoulders, murmuring praise into her skin as she came down.
“Good?” He asked, his hips flush against her arse.
“Mmm,” she agreed, pressing back against him, urging him to move. “More.”
He nipped at her neck, groaning. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered, “But I’ll die the happiest man on fucking Earth,” his voice was pained as he ground against her arse.
“Stop teasing,” she said.
He huffed a laugh; she felt him smirk against her shoulder.
“Fine,” he said, inhaling deeply behind her, her body tense in anticipation. “Put your hands on the headboard, Hermione,” he told her firmly, his low voice causing her to involuntarily shudder.
Her mouth was suddenly dry at the commanding tone, her body warm, but she did as he said.
“Good girl,” he said, his hands moving to grip her by the hips.
She cried out as he thrust into her, his hips slamming against her as he groaned, her body falling forward. Hermione could only grip the headboard tighter as he fucked her hard and fast, his cock hitting deep inside her on each thrust.
“Hermione,” he whimpered, “I can’t believe how lucky I am,” he punctuated this statement with an especially hard thrust.
“Please,” she managed to groan out, thrusting her hips back on him. “Fuck me.”
“Oh fuck,” he choked out, his pace faltering as she met him in the middle. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” his grip on her was ironclad as he drove into her, the headboard knocking audibly against the wall as he tumbled over the edge.
He shouted as he came, his cock buried deep inside her, his hands squeezing her hips. After several moments, he collapsed against her, pulling them both down onto the bed, their chests heaving.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head as she laid against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Her hand traced lazy circles across his pecs, humming absently as they laid there in contented silence.
“Did you have a good birthday?” He asked after a moment, his voice still breathy.
She laughed, fingers drumming against his skin. “I’d think so, wouldn’t you?” She asked, sighing happily. “A very posh man bought me a bookstore and named it after me, and then fucked me senseless in my own bed.”
“Cheeky,” he practically nuzzled against her hand as she wove her fingers into his hair.
“You love it,” she teased, tilting her head up to place a soft kiss against his lips.
He hummed, the low sound rumbling in his chest. “I do,” he said earnestly, “I’ll love you forever, if you’d let me.”
She blinked up at him, at the raw honesty of his words. “I don’t let you do anything,” she chided gently.
He rolled his eyes. “My point exactly.”
He laughed as she smacked his chest, his arm squeezing her shoulders.
“I’m only teasing,” he said at her pout.
She huffed, her brows drawn down in mock consternation.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he drawled, “But you practically have me on a leash, Granger.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t be absurd,” she said, giggling as he nipped at her earlobe.
He sighed, sitting up to pull the sheets over them. “I’m serious,” he said as he settled back against the pillows. “I’d do anything you’d ask of me,” he told her.
She blushed, wanting to brush off his words, but knowing that he was telling the truth, prone to dramatics as he was.
“Anything?” She asked quietly, glancing at him.
“Anything,” he nodded, staring at her in open adoration.
She smiled, pressing a kiss against his lips, his mouth chasing hers when she pulled away. “I can’t ask you for forever,” she grinned as he rolled his eyes in disagreement. “But let’s start with now.”