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Hermione Granger liked to think that she had a very healthy sexual appetite, and a very healthy way of exploring said appetite.
There had been a few stumbles along the way, obviously. (The one time she had convinced a reluctant Ron Weasley to tie her hands together and subsequently had to help him through a panic attack certainly came to mind). But after a little trial and error, she had worked out a fairly good system for exploring and indulging her various needs and kinks.
Chiefly, finding a partner whose appetite and proclivities matched her own quite well.
To say he had been a surprise would have been the understatement of the century; but for quite a while now, she had been happily getting what she needed from just about the last person anyone would have expected.
It had all begun at a pub night, as these things are wont to do.
The Wizarding world in England was claustrophobically insular, and somewhat lacking in nightspots. This meant that if one went out with co-workers on a Friday for after work drinks, then it was likely that you would be one of a throng packed uncomfortably into the same four or five pubs. Add on that he worked as an Auror alongside her best friend, Harry Potter, and friendly ex-boyfriend, Ron Weasley, and Hermione saw quite a lot of him.
Over the years they had settled into an easy enough pattern. He knew her drink order, and would bring her the first wine of the night. She knew his preferred spot and would save him a seat. The others at the table would invariably be bored to tears by whatever they ended up discussing, and would either wander off or ignore the pair of them while they argued about things that nobody else had even heard of.
She quite enjoyed it, and he seemed to as well. They even ended up meeting outside of work and pub nights increasingly often in order to continue the discussions over coffee. Or, on one memorable occasion, for Hermione to drag him to a cinema to prove a point.
One night, however, things took a sharp turn.
Everything had been fairly normal. She was three wines deep, he was several firewhiskeys in, and everyone else was well and truly ahead of them. Most notably, Ron, who was rapidly hitting the point of drunkenness that he forgot all decorum or discretion. So, when someone made a comment about how surprising it was that he and Hermione had remained close friends after their breakup, he had said something a little too revealing.
“Oh, we still love each other plenty, but just as friends.” He had slurred, “Wasn’t the only reason we broke up, but I couldn’t make her stay with me when I can’t do the kinds of sex she needs. Wouldn’t be fair to her.”
Hermione had to cast a silencing spell on him after he had begun to explain about the restraints incident. Then, flaming red to the roots of her hair, she had beaten a hasty retreat to the bathrooms to cool off for a moment.
He had followed her, and somehow the night had ended with him fucking her throat until she teared up, coming on her face with one hand fisted harshly in her curly mane, and then eating her out until she cried.
It had been the best sex she’d had up to that point.
/
\
Hermione didn’t really know how to classify her relationship with Draco Malfoy. For more than two years they had been fucking quite extensively, exploring kinks for reasons ranging from burning desire to idle curiosity, and generally spending more and more time together.
Her modest flat had a drawer and at least a quarter of her closet reserved for Draco’s stupidly expensive suits. Meanwhile, Draco had simply cleared out half of the walk in closet at his penthouse for her use, and then started filling it with ridiculously expensive clothes for her. They spent at least six nights a week together, satisfying each other’s every whim both in and out of their beds. They went on outings regularly; not really dates, but perhaps date adjacent.
It was nice to be around someone who challenged her, even outside of sex, and Hermione enjoyed it without a single trace of guilt. He was handsome, reasonably well mannered (these days, at least), had goals that aligned with hers, and was completely unthreatened by her being a powerful and intelligent woman. It was, to put it simply, extremely delightful to spend time in his company.
He seemed to enjoy the status quo too. He enjoyed arguing with her, liked having someone around that wasn’t shy about putting him in his place, appreciated that she treated him like more than his wealth or past, and valued her acceptance of his desire to shower her with gifts whenever the fancy took him. He was, to put it simply, more than content to ensconce himself in her life.
It wasn’t that Hermione hadn’t occasionally thought of labelling it, but the old adage of ‘why ruin a good thing’ had always come to mind. So she just… chose to keep on going with their unlabelled fucking and spending time together.
It was, after all, a very good thing. The things that man could do with his tongue were probably only rivalled by what he could do with his cock. Forcing a conversation and running the risk of putting him off just did not appeal to Hermione in the slightest. Truly. Absolutely. Definitely.
They figuratively slept together, literally slept together, ate meals together, and just generally didn’t bother with everyone else insisting they were something more. Neither of them even bothered with looking for other partners, perfectly content with the nameless thing between them. Perhaps that was because they were both legendarily possessive; but regardless, they worked well together.
What they didn’t usually do, was hesitate. Which did make her a bit wary of the uneasy way Draco had invited her to sit down across from him at the giant ebony table in the penthouse.
“What’s wrong?” Hermione immediately cut through any incipient waffling. She knew Draco well enough by now to know that he hated to be uncomfortable, and would always pussy foot around any non-sexual issue that made him feel vulnerable.
Rolling his eyes, Draco sighed in a put upon manner and rolled up his shirt sleeves to rest just below his blurred Dark Mark, “I have a… request.”
“And it makes you… nervous?” Hermione squinted at him, “Why?”
Why indeed? Hermione and Draco had explored any number of things together. He hadn’t faltered when she asked if she could peg him, and he certainly hadn’t been shy about requesting her to do it again on occasion. Lord knows he hadn’t been shy about requesting any number of things that might have been awkward, either. He generally trusted her to at least be honest if something was a hard limit, as rare as those were between them.
“It’s… something I’ve been thinking of for quite a while now,” Draco chewed at his cheek for a moment, running his hand through his white hair, tousling it in a most striking manner.
He truly was upsettingly attractive sometimes. Hermione quite liked looking at his broad shoulders and trim waist as he sweated above or below her; just as much as she liked seeing him strapped into the dark crimson robes of the Aurors or strutting about in a suit that cost more than their weekly wage combined. But most of all, she was finding that she found him the most attractive in the quiet moments where he was less guarded and would stop with any pretence around her.
Like, weirdly, when he was sitting across from her and displaying every single fidget he usually stomped out viciously in public.
Confused she might be, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy staring at him.
“And?” She eventually prompted when he appeared thoroughly flummoxed.
“How much do you trust me?” He asked, grey eyes staring into her brown ones with more sincerity than she’d seen from him since right after the war, when he apologised to her for all his previous behaviour.
“Implicitly,” She replied without hesitation.
She truly did, and no longer only in a strictly sexual context. It may have begun that way, but she now also trusted him to know thing like when to pick up sanitary pads and chocolate. Just as she knew he trusted her to know exactly when he’d had a rubbish day and just needed her to hand him a piping hot tea and rub his shoulders.
“Oh,” He looked briefly surprised, and then averted his face to cover his pleasure. “So, well… I… This might be too much, though.”
Hermione leaned over to take his hand, giving him a soothing smile, “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” She squeezed his hand until he looked up again, “I’ll tell you if it’s not something I’d be interested in.”
“Right.” Draco took a deep breath and reached into the pocket of his trousers, “So, I want to have sex while you hold this potion in your mouth. With, um, a spell sealing your lips.”
Hermione took the vial he handed her, inspecting the potion contained therein curiously. It was a rather pretty shade of spring green, but there was nothing she could quite pick out to identify it from the many potions that came in similar colours.
“What is it?” She asked, uncorking it to take a whiff of the delicious new-growth smell of it. Again, too generic a smell for her to single out.
“That’s part of it… I don’t want you to know until I’m already inside you.” Draco watched her recork the bottle, his eyes looking ravenous even as his face stayed stiff. “Which I know is asking for a lot of trust.”
They had played with a lot of scenarios that required a lot of trust between them, even dabbling in situations others might find shocking or dubious. Neither was a stranger to being restrained, gagged, spanked, whipped, choked, or even magically frozen into place for the other’s enjoyment. They both willingly handed over or took control, depending on their mood, and thoroughly enjoyed being on both ends. But none of that was even close to how far they had pushed each other.
She had drugged him with a heavy lust potion at a Ministry gala, causing him to go absolutely feral for her as she lured him into his office and stuck him to his desk to edge him until he was mindless and begging. Another time, he had given her a sleeping potion in her tea and she woke up the next morning having been deliciously used in every hole.
These, and other similar scenes, were normally thoroughly discussed in advance, right down to which potion would be used and at least a general timeline. This did make his agitation more understandable – asking any magical person to take a completely unknown potion was well outside the realms of usual expectation, even for them.
She hadn’t been lying when she said she trusted him implicitly, but she did take a moment to think through the implications.
“You don’t want me to take it the normal way?” She asked, still examining the potion and trying to figure out what it was. “Just hold it in my mouth while we fuck?”
“Uh, to start with, anyway.” Draco winced, “A big part of this fantasy is giving you more instruction once we’ve begun.”
Hermione put the potion down and stared at it thoughtfully.
“It won’t cause you any harm, I swear,” Draco said earnestly, his stiff expression cracking open to reveal a glimpse of the vulnerability that he usually hid so well. Whatever this was, he wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything before.
“Oh, I didn’t ever think it would,” Hermione smiled at him, taking his hand again and making her decision, “Let’s do it.”
“Let’s… Just like that?” Draco looked blindsided, his eyes wide and eager.
“Just like that,” Hermione shrugged, “I think it sounds fun.”
“Merlin,” Draco lurched up and pressed a kiss to her mouth, stretching his frame over the wide expanse of ebony, “When?”
It was a Wednesday, which meant work the next day. Hermione was never keen on trying anything too out of her comfort zone if she had work, and she knew that was likely why Draco had chosen to bring it up when he did.
“This weekend?”
“Absolutely,” Draco kissed her again, the table between them squeaking a bit as he leaned on it eagerly, “Thank you, Hermione.”
“Of course, Draco,” Hermione kissed him back, using one hand to start undoing the buttons of his shirt, “Any time.”
/
\
Knowing that it was a large part of his fantasy for her to remain somewhat clueless, Hermione restrained herself from immediately researching every potion that was green and smelled like fresh plant life. Barely.
The whole thing was wildly arousing, and both she and Draco had been working each other into a froth without another word spoken about it. They couldn’t even keep their hands off each other at the Ministry, equally desperate for each other and gleefully breaking the unspoken agreement to not interfere with each other’s work.
Thursday had found her sneaking into his office to suck his cock until he bent her over his desk and fucked her so hard that she had bruises on her hips all afternoon, until he healed them while he moved torturously slow inside her in his bed that night.
Friday had him dragging her into a broom cupboard; fingering her until she screamed into his free hand, and then taking her unhurried and hard against the door while he looked at her like she was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen.
Then, Saturday finally arrived. Hermione spent the night before alone, something Draco insisted on. He knocked on her front door at exactly 7:30pm with a hand-picked bouquet in a sweet display of chivalry, ready to escort her to their favourite Muggle restaurant.
He kept his hands rigorously to himself all through dinner, and Hermione took her cue to do the same. The glances they exchanged over sumptuous food and better wine were scorching enough that she was soaked before they even got to the main course. Draco’s eyes traced every inch of skin revealed by the black silk of her dress, lingering on the swell of her breasts and the thigh revealed by the fluttering hem.
She knew damn well that it drove him mad to see her wear clothes he bought her; and she enjoyed it, even if she thought he spent far too much. Knowing that she could bring him to his knees just by putting on a dress was empowering.
Watching him drag one long finger through the luscious raspberry coulis of his dessert had her just as distracted, and she lost her train of thought when he sucked the red sauce off with a wicked grin.
She honestly could not get out of there fast enough, and neither could he. As soon as the check was paid and their coats were on, he was dragging her out with more open desperation than he had ever shown, pulling her around the corner and out of sight. He pushed her against the wall of the alley, hand cushioning the blow for her head as his hips ground her into the bricks.
“Can’t believe you did that,” He growled, “Fucking sitting there in this dress and biting that lip at me like fucking temptation incarnate.”
“Me?!” Hermione gasped as he latched on to her neck with snarling teeth, “What about you? Licking that goddamn sauce off of your finger like it was my cunt.”
“Fine, we’re even then,” His hand travelled up the inside of her thigh, swearing when he discovered that she hadn’t bothered with knickers under her lace garter belt. “You fucking-“ He groaned, “I need to get you home before I fuck you right here.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” She laughed, palming his hardness through the sinfully soft wool of his trousers, “Not even the first time in this exact spot.”
“But I have other plans,” He reminded her, stepping reluctantly away with a hard breath. “Plans that I don’t plan to break unless you tell me to.”
“Let’s go, then,” She grabbed him with a quick look around to check that there were no unmagical eyes to spot them, “Take me home.”
Draco kissed her hard, spinning them both through space to land in the living room of the penthouse. All vestiges of restraint vanished the second they were alone. They tossed their coats straight on the floor, and then Hermione’s legs were hauled out from under her by strong hands. She locked her ankles in the small of his back without ever breaking the kiss and fisted his hair for leverage to undulate against him. She didn’t care in the slightest that she was making a mess out of the front of his trousers and hem of her dress, rather enjoying that she was ruining them.
Not even stumbling under her extra weight and writhing, Draco strode straight to the bedroom without any more preamble. Hermione’s back hit the plush mattress with a soft bounce, and Draco stood over her panting with something very far removed from physical exertion.
“Still up for what we talked about?” He looked directly into her eyes, expression darkly hungry with an undercurrent of uncertainty.
Hermione sat up, reaching to put a hand on his sharp jaw, “Absolutely.”
Slumping slightly in relief, Draco turned to press a kiss into her palm, “Usual rules apply.” He grabbed her wrist to hold it between them.
Snapping her fingers, Hermione produced a shower of harmless red sparks, “Red for stop, Yellow for slow, Green for oh-god-please-keep-going.” She grinned at him, “Good enough?”
Licking his lips, Draco leaned over to kiss her quickly, “Use them. The second you feel even slightly uncomfortable, I want to see red or yellow sparks. Okay?”
“I will,” Hermione smiled softly, “I always do.”
“I know, I just needed to make sure.” He kissed her once more, lingering and sweet, and then stood back with a stern façade chasing away any trace of his hesitance, “Strip, everything but the garter and stockings.”
Heart thumping wildly in her chest, Hermione rose onto her knees to comply. She dragged the black silk of her dress up her body, revealing it inch by inch to his greedy eyes. Draco watched, standing tall and unwavering by the side of the bed, his pupils widening to swallow the silver of his irises at her show. Hermione’s nipples pebbled beneath the gauzy lace of her green bra, reacting to the slightly cool air and his heavy gaze in equal measure. Her hair was out, unbound and barely tamed in the way he loved, and it swung out of the silk at the last moment in a heavy bronze mass to tangle down her back.
Relishing his attention, she paused to allow Draco a good look. She arched her back and bit her lip, spreading her thighs just enough to expose herself.
Eyes dark, Draco reached down the press a thumb to her mouth. She accepted the digit eagerly, drawing it into her mouth and hollowing her cheeks around it. He allowed it for a moment, and then dragged it from between her lips with a pop.
“I believe I told you to strip everything except the garter and stockings, Hermione,” His hands went to his belt, and the hiss of the supple leather dragging through the loops as he pulled it free shot straight to Hermione’s core like lightning, “Take off that bra and present yourself.”
Breath catching in her throat and belly clenching in anticipation, Hermione rushed to comply. There was no slow seduction left in her, and she felt at least one of the hooks give out as she tore the green lace from her body. She flipped over impatiently, settling on her knees with her chest pressed into the comforter. Draco’s deep chuckle told her he had noticed her eagerness, and he ran a gentle hand over the curve of her arse, slipping a finger under the verdant silk of her garter strap.
“Never met a witch more eager for a spanking,” He kissed the skin where his hand had been, “Count.”
The first strike of leather on her rump made her grunt into the comforter, her whole body tensing and relaxing in a shiver of pure desire, and she breathed out the first count.
“One, sir.”
The whistle through the air and the crack of the belt on tender skin was almost as good as the sharp sting that had her already wet cunt starting to leak down her inner thigh.
“Two, sir.”
The next strike hit the other cheek, reddening fresh skin and making Hermione moan like the wanton she loved to be.
“Three, sir.”
The final strike laid itself right over the last, and Draco grunted in satisfaction when she shrieked and wriggled.
“Four, sir.”
Humming in satisfaction, Draco kissed each of the welts. They both knew he would be soothing them properly as soon as they were finished, just as they both knew that she would want him to leave them so she felt it for days.
“Good girl,” He kissed her tailbone and moved away, “Stay there.”
“Yes, sir,” Hermione sighed happily, feeling the cold air on the heated flesh of her arse like a caress.
The drawer next to the bed opened and shut. Hermione’s ears pricked to the sound, and she waited with baited breath as the rustle of Draco’s clothing hit the floor. Warm skin laid itself along the length of her back, firm muscles shifting underneath as Draco crawled languorously over her. His cock nestled between her thighs, just below where she wanted him, and his hot breath warmed the sensitive skin under her ear.
“Colour?” He murmured.
“So green,” Hermione whimpered, trying to buck her hips into him and hissing when her sensitised arse rubbed against the fine trail of hair that pointed the way to everything she wanted, “Greenest I’ve ever been.”
“Good,” Draco kissed her cheek with gentle kindness, and then his hand roughly yanked her head back by the hair. A glass bottle pressed to her lips, and Hermione opened eagerly to let him pour the potion into her waiting mouth. “Remember, don’t swallow.”
Hermione nodded eagerly, closing her mouth and letting her cheeks bulge slightly to hold the cool liquid in her mouth. Draco was right, something about not knowing what this potion was enhanced her arousal by tenfold. She had never felt so empty, and she turned her head as much as she could to wordlessly plead that he fill her.
Chuckling, Draco leaned forward and licked a stray drop from her lips. He pressed the cold wood of his wand to the same spot, sealing her mouth until he allowed it to open. “Such a fucking incredible witch, giving me everything I could ever want. Letting me act out every depraved thought I’ve ever had.” He tossed his wand aside, using the hand still in her hair to press her face back into his bed, “Ready for me?”
Stretching her arms out in front of her, Hermione clicked the fingers of both hands to produce as many green sparks as she could.
“Perfect,” He reared up tall on his knees, letting go of her hair in favour of gripping her hip and his cock. The blunt head of him started to part her sodden folds, pressing into her at a pace that was agonisingly drawn-out for both of them. “Do you want to know what’s in your mouth now?”
Hermione nodded fervently, her head spinning and her hips trying to buck against his hold to speed him up. She adored when he fucked her without bothering to prep her with his fingers. Not to say she didn’t love when he took his sweet time with his hands, but feeling the almost burning stretch of his cock was always heavenly. Impatient and desperate for him, she wordlessly prayed for him to drive into her waiting channel, little muffled whimpers and gyrating hips urging him onwards. He didn’t relent, and continued to ease into her so slowly that she was liable to lose her mind.
“Hot-headed as always, Hermione,” He leaned forward, waiting until his cock was seated in her to the hilt to enlighten her, “But to answer your most burning question, the potion you so happily let me seal in your mouth is the strongest fertility potion that can be legally brewed.” He gripped her hair again and twisted her around just enough to speak directly into her ear, “Swallow a single drop, and there’s not a single contraceptive measure that will stop my seed from taking in your belly.”
Heat flushed through Hermione from top to toe, and her strangled moan and tightening cunt must have given away her reaction. But Draco didn’t move, holding himself perfectly still even as he panted raggedly at the feeling. She realised he was waiting for a more obvious reaction from her, and Hermione clicked to quickly send a shower of green sparks dancing against the headboard.
“Fuck,” Draco sounded like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, and so she did it again. His hips bucked reflexively, and he lurched back up. “You fucking love it.” He breathed incredulously, hands coming to rest on both of her hips.
Nodding as hard as she could, Hermione ground back into him and moaned shamelessly. This was by far the riskiest thing they’d ever done, and her mind was spiralling wildly out of control. She could safely say she had never been so turned on, and when he finally began to move only the spell on her mouth kept her from screaming loud enough to wake the dead.
Setting a brutal pace, Draco hauled her backwards onto his driving hips. “Can’t believe you’re letting me do this,” He growled, sounding more out of control than she’d ever heard him, “Fuck, you could wind up so full of me, Hermione. Fucking swollen belly declaring to the whole world that you’re mine.” He expertly angled his cock so it hit the spot deep within her that would always have her begging in seconds. “My witch, my baby.”
Writhing in his grip, Hermione whimpered deep in her chest and used every non-verbal cue she could think of to encourage the man riding her. Her throat tightened, and she felt lightheaded as he rode her hard and fast, exactly the way she needed. The feel of his hips against the stinging welts on her arse was a glorious pain, twisting and heightening the pure pleasure from his words and cock.
“You’re dripping wet, love,” He let go of one hip to drag a finger through the stickiness soaking into the top of her stocking, “You like hearing that, hmm? You like hearing about how one swallow could have you with my seed planted in you? How badly I want it?” He thrust particularly hard and slapped his hand over her clit, rubbing just the way she liked it. “I fucking dream about it, all the time. I’ll be fucking you, and then the statistics you told me on failure rates of all the contraceptives will make me cum. Just the thought of it… Can you imagine?”
Shaking her head, Hermione breathed unsteadily through her nose as saliva flooded her mouth.
“Yeah, how messed up is that?” Draco panted, never once pausing in his thrusting or rubbing, “To have a witch as amazing as you riding my cock, and cumming because I wonder if that muggle pill of yours is one of the 3% that just won’t quite do the job?” He groaned deeply, and Hermione knew that this was not going to be a long session, “Remember last month when I came after barely getting inside you?”
Hermione did, but she had thought it was because they’d been teasing each other for a solid three hours while pretending to be interested in the conversation at a BBQ Harry had thrown.
“I came that fast because I thought you might have stuttered the antifertility spell.” His cock twitched within her, as though in memory, and his rhythm began to falter and stutter. “That was when I knew I had to ask you to do this. I couldn’t get it out of my head.” He bent over to kiss her shoulder worshipfully, “Can’t even fucking tell you how badly I want you to swallow right now. Want you to so bad, want to cum as deep as I can inside you, knowing that you’d get pregnant.” He sank his teeth into her skin, immediately soothing it with his tongue, “Want it, want you.”
He wasn’t the only one losing his mind. Hermione was a mess in the best way, trembling under his onslaught as the pure need in his fracturing voice seeped into her. She knew that this was crazy, to be so turned on by how he was almost begging her to swallow. They didn’t even live together – hadn’t even bothered to properly label their relationship – and he wanted to knock her up.
And, who was she kidding, she wanted to let him.
They were both nuts. But, Merlin help her, the thought of him fucking his cum deep inside her with purpose was tipping her right over the edge. Her core was fluttering around him, and her breath was barely enough to fuel the inferno burning her. She was so goddamn close, just needing one final push, and she would be floating amongst the stars.
“Hermione…” Draco’s voice was a broken thing, splintered glass and pure sex, “Imagine it, love… Fuck. Imagine how I would worship you with your belly full of my baby. How I’d lay the world at your feet every day, and then fuck you just the way you need every night.”
She could tell he was close to losing it, and the way he was begging combined with his skilful fingers and the stretch of his cock was exactly enough to send her careening over the last hurdle. She flew, muscles shaking and contracting as a scream trapped itself behind her lips. She felt like pure magic, stars behind her eyes and in her blood as she came hard on the cock throbbing inside her. Draco was dragged along with her, cursing and sinking his cock as deep as he could possibly get. Heat pulsed from him into her, filling her with everything he wanted to give.
“Fuck me,” Draco panted weakly, exhilarated and spent.
Hermione didn’t think they’d ever had sex that intense. Her whole being felt wrung out, light, and perfect. Draco’s warm body on her back was comforting, even if he was heavy, and she wiggled sluggishly in contentment, burrowing upwards into him. Unfortunately, he misunderstood the action and began to move away.
“Sorry,” Draco fell to the side, spent cock slipping out of her. He seemed to get distracted for a moment, a finger swiping at some of his spend when it leaked from her, but then he shook himself from the post-orgasm stupor and grabbed his wand, “Fuck, the spell. C’mere.”
Letting him help her sit, Hermione looked him straight in the eye as he unsealed her lips. As soon as the spell was cancelled, she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue.
“What?” Draco’s mouth fell open in mimicry of hers, and his eyes blew wide. “Where’s the potion?”
“I swallowed,” Hermione, coming down from her own high, settled her still sore bottom comfortably on the bed with a satisfied sigh. “As soon as you told me what it was.”
“You what?” Draco was struck dumb, apparently unable to process what was happening, “But… That was the real thing. You’ll get…”
“Get pregnant?” Hermione tilted her chin up in defiance, “Possibly.”
“Is this seriously happening?”
“Should I have not?” Hermione was starting to feel a little uncertain, and more than a little foolish for her impulsive action.
“Fucking hell, Hermione,” Draco suddenly lurched sideways and began to rummage in his side table, muttering to himself, “Bloody Gryffindor, this is the last way I wanted to do this.”
Hermione watched him warily, wondering if he was about to pull out some sort of antidote and feeling a sharp pang of disappointment at the thought. But before she could examine that feeling too closely, Draco was sitting up and holding something hidden in the palm of his hand.
“Now, if anyone asks, this was a lot more… well, a lot more something other than this,” Draco sighed and smiled ruefully, “But… here I go.” Both of them still stark naked and sweaty, he took her hand in his free one, kissed her forehead, and pressed something into her palm, “I’m shit at feelings, and even worse at talking about them. You know this.”
She did, possibly because she was just as bad.
“That said,” He leaned back and turned her hand over, “I commissioned this three months after we, uh, after that first night in the pub.” He chuckled self-depreciatingly, “Which is pretty sad, given that I haven’t been able to even been able to ask you to date me officially yet.”
Hermione’s eyes dropped to the little box in her hand, and she gasped in recognition. “Is this…”
Gingerly, Draco flipped open the velvet box to reveal the most beautiful diamond ring that Hermione had ever seen. Perfectly sized to stand out without being ostentatious, an emerald cut diamond surrounded by a halo of the most incredibly pristine sapphires glittered up at her like a promise.
Which, she supposed, it kind of was.
“I knew I would try and convince you to marry me someday,” Draco said, more raw and open than she had ever imagined he could be, “I was just too much of a coward to risk our status quo.”
Hermione had no idea what to say, and just stared at the ring in numb shock.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Draco started to panic, and Hermione realised she had begun to cry. “I’ll… I’ll just go and-“
“No, stop, I’m not mad, I’m just shocked.” Hermione put a hand on his bare knee to stop him, “You really want to marry me? Not just because we got a bit carried away and I might be pregnant?”
“I really do, Hermione,” He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, “I know this is arse-backwards, given what I just did, but I’ve been in love with you for at least five years now. There’s no one else I’d ever want.”
“Five years?” Hermione blinked at him, “But we…”
“Only started sleeping together two and a half years ago?” Draco smirked, “Believe me, I am painfully aware.”
“So… everything tonight was…?”
“I don’t know what I was thinking, really.” Draco rubbed the back of his neck with a wince, “I thought I could pass it off as just another scene. A bit of breeding kink play that would end with you spitting out the potion and telling me it was one and done.” He shrugged, “I figured I’d get to feel this way at least once, and you’d never know that it was all real for me.”
“But then I swallowed.”
“But then you swallowed,” He sighed, looking torn, “Obviously you can still back out, we can pretend you never saw the ring and we can look at options for-“ He swallowed thickly, “For the pregnancy.”
“That’s… not what I want.” Hermione gently placed the ring box in his hand, and then held out her left hand before his handsome face could crumple completely, “You and I are both idiots, Draco Malfoy, and I’m keeping my own name,” She wiggled her fingers impatiently at him, “But I will marry you, and I’ll have this baby with you, too.”
“You will?” Draco breathed, and then his face split into a broad grin and he scrambled to get the ring out of its box and onto her finger, “Thank you. Fuck, thank you so much.”
“Thank you!” Hermione laughed, tugging him forward to kiss him firmly, “Just so you know, I love you too.”
“Seriously? Really?” Draco laughed, unrestrained and boyish in his joy, “Fuck it, let’s get married tomorrow!”
“Draco!” Hermione scolded, laughing right along with him.
“I’m serious, let’s elope.” He crushed her to him, raining kisses on every bit of her he could reach, “We’ll make Potter and Weasley witness it, I can’t wait to see their faces.”
Hermione laughed, and protested, and pretended he was ridiculous when he kissed her flat belly. But for all her objections, she was still standing with her hand in Draco’s less than twelve hours later, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. A bewildered Harry and Ron stood next to them, watching them swear the wedding vows and wondering just how the pair of them had gone from complete denial to marriage in less than a day.